#for the record - I hated the 'You could have broken out of here any time you wanted' line

[arealtrashact]

'The cage is open. You can walk out anytime you want. Why are you still in there?'

[webslingingslasher]

peters nerdy side>>>> can we get more hot nerdy peter pretty pleaseeeee

nerdy peter makes me feral.

Peter Parker was finally rewarded for all the shit he deals with. 

A teen, who was a silent walker in school, but a near lethal hero at night, one that has to deal with more stress and traumas than any other kid at seventeen. Night after night, his spirit being broken down a little more each bad guy he’s put away. 

Queens see a hero that keeps the streets clean. 

Sometimes, all Peter could see was someone’s dad, or husband, or son he was putting away. 

All that bullshit he’s been dealt, the bullshit about power and responsibility, was washed away when he finally got something good, something he really thought he deserved. 

He got you, and that’s why he’ll stop at nothing to keep you. 

“You got yourself a good one, parker. Don’t fuck it all up with your nerdy shit, pretty girls hate that.”

Was it dumb to listen to Flash of all people? Maybe. 

Does he know more about girls and has a better track record at keeping them? Yes. 

But of course, just like how you were the one to approach him, ask him out, kiss him first and ask for him to be your boyfriend, he should’ve trusted you. Could you really blame him though, not totally trusting he can have a purely good thing with no consequences? 

He couldn’t, that’s why it shocked him when you made it clear you only wanted him. 

You wanted Peter Parker, however he came. Science facts, nerdy hobbies, tirades and all. 

—---------------------

Have you ever built up an idea of who someone was in your head, and when you date the other shoe drops and they’re nothing like you thought? 

That was you with Peter Parker. 

He was adorably perfect, noticing him when sharing a history class. Peter sat three seats up from you on the left, perfect position for you to watch his habits. The shake in his leg, tapping pencils on his desk, blowing a breath every time someone answered incorrectly, sitting up and leaning over his desk when something catches his attention, chewing his bottom lip while going over notes, poking his tongue out when he takes a test. 

Peter Parker was the constant subject on your mind, starting in history and causing you to look for him in other classes, you only shared one more, typing class. He was three rows behind you, there wasn’t a good way to look at him, instead having to rely on his quiet murmurs when the teacher stands behind his computer. 

After two weeks of pining you couldn’t stand it, stomping over to his table at lunch you sit down right next to him. His friends paused at your sudden and aggressive entrance. 

“Hi. We haven’t really talked but we share typing and history. For two weeks straight I’ve been watching you and I can’t get you out of my head, and I would really, really like to go on a date with you.” 

You can see it on his face, how he goes from shock to excitement, then as he looks you over his face falls. He thinks you’re fucking with him, you don’t know how to make him believe it’s real. 

“Here,” you pull at your backpack and rip the front pocket open, you pull a sharpie out and with a slight tremble you grab his arm, pushing his sleeve up you uncap the marker with your teeth. Scribbling your number onto his skin, “think about it, let me know.” 

Before you lose your steam you scramble to stand and grab your bag, “okay, that’s all. Um,” you nod at his friends, silence deafening as everyone at the table takes in the scenario. “Thank you, and… enjoy lunch?” Cringing, you turn to leave, whispering an ‘oh my god,’ to yourself while pressing a hand to your cheek. 

Peter is sure in that moment you were a hundred percent serious and you just mortified yourself, spilling your guts and being met with nothing.

 Six steps away he calls out, “yes!” 

You pause, then turn, “what?” 

“Yes! I’ll go on a date with you.” 

Oh, that’s a new feeling. It felt like your heart had wings, your stomach felt like you were on a rollercoaster, flutters everywhere. You couldn’t even try to play it cool, the guy you’ve been crazy about just as interested and curious as you were. A toothy smile overtook your face, eyes lit up. 

Taking a few steps closer, you felt giddy. 

“Really? You will?” 

Peter’s smile matched yours, he laughed through his answer, he can’t believe you actually like him that much. “Yeah.” Biting your bottom lip you pull it together, “cool, text me and we’ll plan something?” 

“You got it.” 

Nodding you walk off, Peter’s riding on a high like never has. He’s never had such a pretty girl like you like him, want him, notice him. He felt like he’s been rewarded, that he does deserve a good thing. 

Flash scoffs when you sit back at your table, immediately talking and watching faces gasp and squeal. 

“You got yourself a good one, parker. Don’t fuck it all up with your nerdy shit, pretty girls hate that.”

The last thing he wants to do, before he even gets you, is send you off. So, he listens and promises to be someone that should be with a girl like you, someone that isn’t really him. 

—---------------------

You figured it was first date nerves. 

That or just the fact you’ve never been alone with each other, especially under the guise of a date. It wasn’t like he was weird, but he was off. The person you watched in class was goofy, using his body to express himself, confident when speaking because he could back every word up. 

This Peter was quiet, guarded and almost… boring. 

You tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, he just had some jitters. Maybe if you kissed him it would settle him, you could prove that you liked him and he had nothing to be nervous about. Trying to look past his awkwardness you took the night as it was, wishing he was making you laugh like he had in class, or wishing he would ramble on in a story like you’ve watched him do with his friends at lunch or at his locker. 

It may have been different than you thought but he’d come around after a date or two surly, you’d kiss him and after another few dates he’ll open up and be his true self. It was hope, but you were riding on it. 

Peter ended the night by walking you home, conversation slowly dwindling as you approached closer, falling flat when you were  in front of the building. Waiting for a moment you looked at his mouth, he made no reaction, you hadn’t expected him to sweep you off your feet but to not offer anything made you feel unsure. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

It was obvious from the look on his face that he wasn’t expecting anything in the slightest, but he licked his bottom lip and nodded softly, “yeah,” leaning in you wait for a moment, he makes no move, he has to be extremely nervous, no other option. You kissed him, you pressed into him and grabbed his face, his hands gently hovered and you pulled away. 

Maybe he just pitied you, just agreed because you put him on the spot. 

“Um, you know if you didn’t want-” 

“Can we do this again, please?” 

And just because he asked, and because it seemed like he realized he acted off and he wanted another chance, and because you really do believe in first date jitters, you say yes. 

—--------------

The first time you went over to his house his room was oddly clean, empty spaces on his bookshelf and shelves, almost like he’d put things away. Eyeing a bin by his closet you walked closer, “you collect comics?” Hoping you wouldn’t find, but still opening the top and starting to look through the ones on top. 

Peter took a deep breath, “as a kid, kinda stupid now, don’t you think?” 

You furrow your eyebrows and shake your head, looking back down at the comic in your hand. You thought when you started dating he’d open up more, instead he got more closed off. 

Clearing your throat you place the comics back in, in the exact same order and putting the lid back on. “No, I don’t think they’re stupid. I was hoping you had some new ones I could catch up on, but if you think they’re stupid now I guess I’ll have to get ‘em myself.” 

If he had known you like comics he would’ve never said that. It’s his fault for leaving them out, he should’ve put them away like everything else that screamed ‘nerd alert’. 

“I didn’t mean they’re stupid, just you know… collecting them as an adult… is.. weird?” 

The lamest excuse you’ve ever heard, but you keep your patience. It hasn't even been two weeks, he’ll come around. You know it. 

—------

Surprising Peter with a hug he budged against your weight before supporting you, talking to a friend while he wrapped his arms around your back. Picking up on pieces of the conversation you nudge your head up, interested in his words. 

The Peter you like, the one that’s animated and rambling, moving his hands across your back as he talks. You place a kiss at the bottom of his neck, “whatcha talking about?”  It sounded like a new program that was going to change the future of computer engineering, when you questioned he blew you off. “Nothing important.” 

You had tried, you tried to be kind and patient and understanding but he just wasn’t who you wanted. You wanted that person, the person that’s excited about new technology and collected comic books. 

Peter closed off when you asked, guarded back up, you wished it could’ve been different. Maybe one day he’d open up more, you didn’t want anything but his true self. 

You gave it a month before you had to accept that Peter Parker wasn’t the person you thought he was, today, you had to accept that you were breaking up with Peter Parker. Pulling away you grab his arm, silently telling him to look at you. 

“Can I come over later?” 

“Yeah, of course. Wanna come with me after school?” 

“Sure,” you wondered if he could see through your smile. It doesn’t seem like it, he leans down and gives you a quick kiss, you pull away and back away through the halls. 

He has no idea what’s coming. 

—------------

Gently pushing Peter’s shoulders down to coax him into sitting on the edge of his bed, you grin politely when he follows instruction. Dragging his desk chair to sit in front of him you pause to think about what you were going to say, clearing your throat you begin. 

“So, I like you a lot, and I’ve enjoyed having you as my boyfriend for the past month-” 

Peter’s eyebrows furrow, he holds his hand up, “enjoyed? Are you breaking up with me?” 

You bite your lip and nod solemnly, “I’m sorry, Peter.” 

The silence is unsettling, you look away from him, his figures deflated and his mind races. 

“Why?” 

Taking a deep breath and blowing it out you shrug, “I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Peter. But, uh, you’re just… not what I thought you’d be like.” 

How could you not like him? He’s done everything right. He was the perfect suitor, he acted like the typical non nerd male. The kind of all american guy every girl wanted. 

“I don’t… what does that mean?” 

You laugh, “I have a type, and you’re not it. I like nerds, like, straight up goofy, funny guys that know something about everything and collect comic books and get excited at new, humanity altering technology. I thought you were that guy, but I guess not.” 

Oh my god. 

He’s fucked it all up, he was dumb enough to believe you wanted something else. 

He can show you he’s a nerd, he’s been one his entire goddamn life, he’s about to nerd olympics the hell out of you. 

Peter jumps from his seat so quickly it startles you, his hands come down on the armrests of your chair, the seat tilting backwards as he pushes his weight towards you. 

“I’m the biggest nerd you’ll ever meet.” 

Your seat jostles when he lets go and opens his closet, pulling out a box he sets it on his bed. 

“This is everything I put away when we started dating,” he turns with three rubik’s cubes, each one in various sizes. “,these are my rubik’s cubes, I can finish the standard in forty three seconds, the six by six took me about thirty minutes and this baby?” he bounced the biggest one in his hold, “, this is a twenty one by twenty one, it took me about three hours.” 

Peter dropped them to the bed and continued, “and this is my national championship trophy for chess club,” he shoves it in your face before he keeps digging, a small picture frames come next, “this is when I won the states most innovative science fair project,” frantic digging, “, this is a figurine of my favorite video game,” two large disc sets next, “lord of the rings and star wars,” 

He spins around, flying past your body where he picks up his comic book container, “remember when I was late to our date last week? I was getting these,” three new additions of an old comic you had just started to pick up, “, and currently?” Peter moved to his desk, tapping on his keyboard until his screen woke up, code covered the screen, he pointed between the monitor and a notebook, “I’m learning to read binary code.” 

You felt like the grinch because your heart grew the times the size, adoration blossomed, you could feel your chest crack and glow. The Peter you wanted, the person you thought he was from the start, was real and in front of you. 

This was who he was, so why was he hiding it? 

“Why did you hide that from me? Peter, that’s like, the entire reason I wanted to date you. I liked who you were, then you turned into someone else.” 

Peter rested against his desk and sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I figured a pretty girl like you wouldn’t want some nerdy guy, it might be cute at first but when I’m stoked about something I read on wikipedia and make it my thing for a day and talk your ear off about it, you’re gonna wish you had a boyfriend that just watches sport clips for fun.”

That’s the point you were trying to make, “that’s what I want! I was literally dumping you because you weren’t that.” 

“Well, I am that. So there’s no point in breaking up, right?” 

You hum and spin in his chair, “I dunno… you dragged me along for a month, hiding yourself from me, making me question everything. I mean, you have a lot to make up for, parker.” 

“C’mere,” you’re not given an option, he reaches forward and pulls the chair towards him and pulls you from the seat, flopping himself down and tugging you into his lap. Your stomach clenches, this was the confident Peter you wanted, it was confidence in himself. 

His pointer finger taps on the monitor, “you read binary from right to left, and you separate them into groups of eight. Now the key is knowing that each one and zero mean-” 

Your mouth on his, cutting his words off with a kiss, you held his face tightly, never wanting him to separate from you. Caught off guard he froze for a moment, then wrapped his hands around your middle. Pressing into him, separating for air but giving small pecks. 

“Baby,” kiss, “, I’m sorry,” kiss, “, I shut,” kiss, “, you out,” kiss, “I didn’t,” kiss, “, know it meant,” kiss, “, so much,” kiss, “, to you,” kiss. 

“You’re so much smarter than me,” a chaste kiss, “it’s so hot,” you look into his eyes, he’s flushed out and breathing harshly. “You’re so hot,” another kiss, Peter feels like the room is spinning, he’s never felt so wanted, so needed, the way you can’t stop kissing him, how tight you’re holding him to you, how blown your pupils are, the way you’re gulping him like water. 

“I mean if you,” he grunts when you kiss down his neck, biting into his collarbone. “, if you want, I could show you how quick I can solve my rubik’s cube.” Your hands drag up his hair, gripping and tilting his head away, better access to nibble and lick the skin. “Or, recite the first seventy nine numbers of pi.” 

Attention caught, “you know the first seventy nine numbers of pi?” 

“Mm hmm, I could also tell you” a whimper,  “, all the elements. Want me to start rattling them off?” 

Kissing the middle of his throat you hum, “I’d rather you take your pants off.” 

For the first time in Peter Parker’s life, memorizing the periodic table got him laid. 

[teaboot]

if ur a murderbot nerd now do u have any fun opinions abt it yet?

Oh my goddd you have no idea

I really, really, really like Murderbot because it comes at life with this perspective we don't often see that is very real among people who have already been through traumatic experiences, who developed skills and abilities to suvive that were once useful but no longer have context- that search that traumatized people go through to recalibrate and reorient ourselves in a world where we no longer really need those things to survive.

A bit personal here, but my own issues personally involved a lot of psychological abuse that made it difficult to trust my own perceptions of reality, and as a result I found I was very easy to lie to and manipulate.

To handle this, I became obsessive over writing things down, cataloging details and making notes of things as they happened- I'd carry recording devices and make audio recordings and stay up late at night to transcribe what they'd picked up, read those over and over again to reassure myself of things I wasn't certain about.

While doing this, there were others close to me that I felt responsible for, who I had to protect from others and protect myself from at the same time. Life was about two things: Evidence, and defusing threats

Over time, I learned to trust myself as my memories matched what had been recorded where their narrative didn't, but I never really kicked the habit. Like Murderbot, I had added something to my own programming that reassured me I was safe, that I was in control of myself, that I couldn't be mistaken or crazy or broken or used.

I'm only on book two, but already I see myself in Murderbot again. No spoilers here, but when I left home- left that dangerous context- I didn't need to repeat these patterns to survive anymore, but I still did, because I didn't know anything else anymore. It felt safe, comfortable, knowing knowing that the past couldn't repeat itself, because I'd written that flaw- blind trust in myself-  out of my programming and replaced it with something else.

Still, though, I'd become something specially suited to thrive in a very specific environment. Nothing else felt right like followinghigh-risk situations, like witnessing and watching and recording and knowing I had proof of the truth where others might not.

People took notice. I wound up in security by accident, but's an environment that I thrive in due to the same patterns and behaviours I originally developed when I had no other choice. I climbed the ladder pretty quickly, once supervisors caught on that my reports were the most accurate, most objective, most factual, detail-oriented and timely. I keep others and myself safe and prioritize public safety above all else, and I perform well under pressure

Now I'm in a position where I often wonder, do I enjoy this job, or is it just what I'm good at? I have a set of skills now, but do I have the option of choosing not to use them? What would I be, if not this? Could I be anything else? Can Murderbot be anything else?

It has a set of skills that set it apart, make it different, special. It does what it knows best. But is it free? Does it want to be? What does it want? Does it have to do what it was built to do? What if it didn't?

I know what I'm good for. The idea of deliberately leaving what I'm good for for something uncertain, that I might hate, that I might be useless at- the choice to give up what was so important to me for so long and become deliberately obsolete?

Let go of my entire purpose? The only thing I know, that I fit so well into but don't actually know if I enjoy? Now that I can choose? Now that enjoyment is a luxury I can afford to consider?

Yeah, that resonates.

I like the Murderbot series so far because it feels the way I feel: Like the most significant and formative part of my story, the part where I became what I am, has already happened

And now I have to just. Keep going

Into... what?

It feels absurd. Like a microwave giving up on reheating food and deciding to start a life around abstract dance.

So, uh. Yeah. It's really very wild to see this same philosophical-ish dilemma I've been digging over in the back of my mind and in therapy for the last forever laid out so plainly in a genuinely exciting and enjoyable story like this. I feel much less alone, and I... kind of really need to see how it resolves, I think.

So, uh. Yeah. Read Murderbot, I guess

[pretzel-box]

Hi! Hello! How are you doing? I hope you're having a great day. This is the first time I requested something so pls bare with me. So I really like the swap!Sebastian and swap!/payment received reader, so can I request a second part where Sebastian bought readers file and maybe some fluff and comfort, that'd be soooo cute and what comes next is up to you.

Anyways thanks for taking your time in reading this and it's also okay if you ignore this😊😊😊

Tags: Comfort, Fluff, Reverse AU, gn! experiment reader & human sebastian, sequel to previous chapter

Words: 1,1k

Authors Note: Since the story progresses differently, I tried to at least write the fluff and comfort part after Seb saw the tapes!

Sebastian’s breath hitched as he tried to steady himself, his heart racing and his mind a chaotic mess of thoughts. He hadn’t expected to break down like this, not here, not in front of you. He had always prided himself on being composed, on having a plan. But those tapes… the sight of what you had gone through—the screams, the agony, the helplessness—it had torn through him like a knife. He didn’t know how to cope with the knowledge of your suffering, and now, here you were, laughing so freely, so blissfully unaware of the turmoil in his heart.

“Ah, there you are!” Your cheerful voice had greeted him when he walked into the shop, his eyes still red and puffy from the tears he had tried to hold back. Your smile was so genuine, so full of light, and it only made the ache in his chest worse. He wanted to protect that light, to shield you from any more pain, but he didn’t know how.

“Look!” You said, holding up the recorder with a playful grin. “I recorded a wall dweller getting hit by Pandemonium. It got squished like a fly.” You played the clip for him like it was some kind of small victory, a moment of dark humor to lighten the mood. But Sebastian couldn’t focus on the video. He could only see you—the real you—behind the cheerful facade.

He felt a lump form in his throat, his eyes welling up with tears again. You noticed the shift in his expression, the way his face crumpled with a pain you couldn’t quite understand. “God, Sebastian,” you teased gently, though your voice was tinged with concern. “Don’t tell me you’re getting emotional over a wall dweller.”

Sebastian didn’t respond. He just stood there, tears streaming down his cheeks in silent waves. The shame of his breakdown mixed with the overwhelming sadness he felt for you, for everything you’d endured, for every piece of you that had been broken and put back together. He hated that he couldn’t control this, that he couldn’t stop crying in front of you. He felt so raw, so exposed.

You blinked, your teasing smile fading as you realized this wasn’t just some passing moment of sentiment. You stepped closer, your expression softening as you took in the sight of him—Sebastian, your normally composed and snarky companion, now reduced to tears.

Without a word, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a comforting embrace. His body stiffened at first, but then he melted into your touch, his head resting against your shoulder as he let out a shaky breath. You held him close, your hand stroking the back of his head, fingers tangling gently in his hair. The other hand moved up and down his back, soothing him with gentle, rhythmic movements.

“It’s okay, Solace,” you whispered softly, your voice a calming melody against the storm raging in his mind. “The wall dweller is at a better place.”

Sebastian let out a choked laugh, a mix of a sob and a chuckle, shaking his head against your shoulder. “It’s… it’s not about the damn wall dweller,” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s… it’s you.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, pulling back slightly to look at him. “Me?” you asked, searching his tear-filled eyes for answers. “What about me?”

He took a deep, shaky breath, trying to steady himself enough to speak. “I saw the tapes,” he admitted quietly, his voice breaking on the last word. “I saw… what they did to you. What you went through.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, your grip on him tightening instinctively. “Sebastian…” you whispered, your voice softening with understanding. “You… you saw those?”

He nodded, tears spilling down his cheeks again. “I’m so sorry,” he choked out. “I’m so sorry for everything they did to you. I just… I don’t know how you’re still standing here, smiling like that.”

You felt a pang in your chest, a mix of sorrow and affection for the man in front of you. You knew the tapes were horrifying—brutal, even—but you had long since come to terms with your past. It was a part of you, yes, but it didn’t define you. Not anymore.

You cupped his face gently, wiping away his tears with your thumbs. “Hey,” you said softly, your voice a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. “I’m okay, Sebastian. I’m still here. I’m still… me.”

He looked at you with such a mix of awe and disbelief, his heart aching with every beat. “But how?” he whispered. “How can you just… move on from something like that?”

You gave him a small, knowing smile. “Because I have to,” you replied simply. “Because if I let it define me, if I let it break me, then they win. And I refuse to let them have that power over me.”

Sebastian stared at you, his heart swelling with a mixture of admiration and love. He had always been drawn to you, always found himself captivated by your spirit, your strength. But now, more than ever, he realized just how much you meant to him—how much he needed you in his life.

He pulled you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he let out a shuddering breath. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated, his voice muffled against your skin. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from that.”

You smiled softly, your hand continuing to stroke his hair. “You’re protecting me now,” you whispered. “That’s what matters.”

You felt him nod against your shoulder, his arms wrapping around you tighter as if afraid to let go. And in that moment, you knew that no matter what had happened in the past, no matter what horrors you’d both faced, you would face them together. And together, you would heal.

As the two of you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, a small, playful smile tugged at your lips. “Besides,” you added, your tone teasing, “I bet that wall dweller’s in wall heaven now, with all his little wall dweller friends. Don’t you think?”

Sebastian let out a watery laugh, pulling back to look at you with a mix of exasperation and affection. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, a small smile breaking through his tears.

“And yet,” you said, grinning up at him, “you’re still here.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, his heart feeling a little lighter, a little more whole. “Yeah,” he admitted softly. “I am.”

And as you stood there together, holding each other close, you knew that even after Sebastian saw the tapes, he would be alright. Just like you are.

[ginxyy]

The Studio

Who doesn’t love woozis studio and getting fucked in it

I never imagined I’d be back in this room, the air between us so thick with tension it felt like a smothering blanket. Woozi’s studio, normally a place I could breathe in, felt smaller with him in it Mingyu. It wasn’t even supposed to be this way. I was just here to drop off some files, nothing more. But fate has a cruel way of throwing us together. Maybe it was because Woozi had a habit of disappearing whenever work got tedious. Or maybe it was the universe conspiring to make this moment inevitable.

Mingyu was leaning against the console, his broad frame making the small space feel even tighter. His eyes flicked up, catching mine for just a second. That damn smirk of his tugged at the corner of his lips a look that had once melted me, and still, after everything, did the same. I hated that about him. I hated that, even now, after we’d broken up, my heart still raced when he was near. But what was worse? He knew it too.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Mingyu said, his voice low and casual, as if we weren’t standing in the middle of a minefield of unresolved feelings.

“I’m not avoiding you,” I replied, busying myself with the files, pretending they were more interesting than him. “We just work in different departments. I don’t have to see you.”

He chuckled, the sound both warm and mocking. “Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

I turned to glare at him, but that was a mistake. Those dark eyes of his were always too damn good at getting under my skin. They held that familiar look teasing, yes, but with something more behind it. A hunger. One that hadn’t been sated since the day we decided to call it quits.

We’d been so good together, once. At least, that’s what everyone had said. Mingyu was the type of guy who could light up a room, and for a while, I was happy to bask in that light. We had chemistry that could burn the world down, but sometimes the brightest flames are the ones that burn out the quickest.

It wasn’t that we didn’t love each other because we did, deeply. But love wasn’t enough when we couldn’t see eye to eye on certain things. Our schedules, our priorities, the way our lives were heading in two different directions. He was wrapped up in the world of SEVENTEEN, and I was trying to carve my own path at HYBE. The fights became more frequent, and eventually, it felt like we were only holding on because we didn’t know how to let go.

So, we let go.

Or at least, we tried to.

Now, standing here in Woozi’s studio, it was clear that whatever we had wasn’t as easy to shake as we thought. The air hummed with unsaid words, unfulfilled desires. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to create some distance between us, but even that felt futile.

“You still haven’t told me why you’re really here,” he pressed, stepping closer.

“I told you. Woozi needed these files,” I said, my voice coming out sharper than I intended. “Why are you even here?”

“Waiting for Woozi. We’re supposed to be recording.” He raised a brow, his gaze dropping briefly to my lips before meeting my eyes again. “But I’m not in any rush.”

I swallowed hard, heat creeping up my neck. There was a time when I would have closed that distance between us without a second thought, when the tension crackling between us would have only led to one thing. But that was then.

“You should be,” I said quietly, turning my back to him, but I felt him move closer, the heat of his body warm at my back.

“You miss me,” he murmured, his voice low in my ear. It wasn’t a question.

I closed my eyes, inhaling a shaky breath. “That doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t it?” His hand brushed lightly against my arm, a feather-light touch that sent a shiver down my spine. I hated how easily my body responded to him, even after all this time.

“Don’t.” The word came out weaker than I intended, but he stepped back, respecting the line I’d just drawn. For now.

There was a long silence before Mingyu finally spoke again, his voice softer this time. “You think Woozi’s gonna take long?”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Probably not. He’s never gone too long.”

“Shame.” He moved back to the console, his smirk returning as if he hadn’t just rattled my composure. “Guess we’ll have to keep each other company.”

I could still feel the lingering warmth from where his breath had brushed my skin, and I hated it hated how he always managed to worm his way into my thoughts, how my body still reacted to him despite the space I was trying to keep. Woozi’s studio felt more like a trap than ever. A place I couldn’t escape from, no matter how much I tried to pretend that seeing Mingyu didn’t affect me.

I was hyper-aware of his presence, the way he leaned against the console, tapping his fingers absentmindedly on the edge. The way his eyes would drift toward me every few seconds, even though I was doing everything I could to pretend I wasn’t paying attention. But I was. I always was.

“You’re tense,” he commented, his voice low, as though he was observing something obvious.

“You think?” I shot back, flipping through the files in front of me, though I wasn’t reading a single word. My skin still tingled where he’d touched me, and I hated that he knew exactly the effect he had on me.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” he continued, his voice a little softer, and that caught my attention. Mingyu wasn’t often vulnerable. He was charming, witty, and confident, but underneath that, there were cracks ones I knew well, but didn’t often see in moments like this.

I glanced up at him, my throat dry. “What do you want from me, Mingyu?”

He pushed away from the console and crossed the small room in a few steps, his towering frame once again making me feel like there was no air left. He stood in front of me, so close that I had to tilt my head back to look at him. His eyes were intense, focused. It was like he could see right through the walls I was trying to keep up.

“I want you to stop pretending like this doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice rougher now. His hand hovered near my waist, but he didn’t touch me, not yet. “Like I don’t still matter.”

I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the tightening in my chest. “It doesn’t matter. We broke up for a reason.”

“And yet…” His hand finally found my waist, a light touch that sent a shockwave through me. “Here we are. Again.”

I hated how right he was. We couldn’t stay away from each other, no matter how much sense it made. My heart was racing now, every nerve in my body hyper-aware of him, of the way his thumb brushed just slightly against my side. It was like a switch had been flipped, and all the emotions I’d been trying to bury came rushing back to the surface.

I should push him away. I should tell him to stop. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I found myself stepping closer, my body betraying me. My breath hitched as I felt the solid warmth of his chest brush against mine, his gaze never leaving my face.

“Mingyu…” I whispered, but it was more of a plea than a protest.

His eyes softened, just for a moment, and then his lips were on mine. The kiss was hard and desperate, like we’d both been starving for this and had finally given in. All the tension that had been building between us exploded in that single moment, and I couldn’t stop myself from responding just as fiercely.

My hands found the front of his shirt, clutching it tightly as I pressed against him, feeling his body mold against mine. His hand slid from my waist to the small of my back, pulling me even closer as his other hand tangled in my hair. Every part of me was on fire, and I couldn’t think straight. All I knew was that I needed him, now, just as much as I ever had.

“Mingyu, we can’t…” I managed to gasp between kisses, but the words felt hollow. I didn’t mean them. Not really.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed against my lips, his voice rough and full of need. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

I couldn’t. I didn’t want to.

Instead of answering, I kissed him harder, my body already making the decision for me. His grip tightened on me as we stumbled back against the console, his hands moving lower, gripping my hips like he was afraid to let go. My heart was pounding in my chest, my mind clouded with nothing but the feeling of him, of the way his lips moved against mine, the way his touch sent electric shivers through me.

It was too much, too fast, and yet it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. I’d missed this missed him more than I wanted to admit. And right now, all the reasons we’d broken up felt like a distant memory, overshadowed by the overwhelming need that had taken hold of us.

His lips left mine to trail down my neck, leaving a hot, burning path as his hands roamed my body, exploring familiar territory like he’d never forgotten. I arched into his touch, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I held onto him for dear life.

“Mingyu…” I moaned, the sound escaping before I could stop it, and I felt him grin against my skin, knowing exactly what he was doing to me.

“You still want me,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire. It wasn’t a question.

I should’ve denied it. I should’ve said something anything that could stop this before it went too far. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. My body was on autopilot now, driven by the undeniable pull I felt toward him. The tension, the desire, everything we’d been holding back for months was bubbling to the surface, and there was no stopping it.

His hands slid under my shirt, his touch sending sparks through my skin, and I let out a shaky breath as he pulled me even closer. I felt like I was losing control, and maybe I was. But in that moment, I didn’t care. All I wanted was him. All I needed was him.

Just when I thought we might lose ourselves completely, the door to the studio flew open with a loud crash, and both of us froze.

“Mingyu, have you seen my…” Woozi’s voice cut off abruptly, and my stomach dropped as I whipped around to face him, my heart still racing, my lips swollen from Mingyu’s kisses.

Woozi stood there, one eyebrow raised, his arms crossed as he took in the scene before him. I could feel my face heating up with embarrassment, but Mingyu didn’t even flinch. He just let out a low, frustrated groan and stepped back from me, raking a hand through his hair.

“Really?” Woozi said, his voice dry as he looked between us. “Again?”

I wanted to sink into the floor and disappear, but Mingyu just smirked, clearly unbothered by the whole situation.

“We were just… catching up,” Mingyu said casually, as if we hadn’t just been seconds away from completely giving in to our desires.

“Yeah, looks like it,” Woozi replied, shaking his head. “You two seriously need to get your shit together. Either break up for real or just admit you can’t stay away from each other.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Woozi had a point, after all. How many times had we found ourselves in this situation? Torn between what we thought was right and what we actually wanted?

“You’re not wrong,” Mingyu said with a grin, clearly unfazed by the interruption. “But you didn’t have to ruin the moment.”

Woozi rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. “I’m not about to let you defile my studio.”

I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, the tension of the situation broken by Woozi’s dry humor. It was so typical of him, always able to lighten the mood, even when things were at their most awkward.

“Thanks, Woozi,” I said, finally finding my voice. “For… you know, stopping us before we did something stupid.”

Woozi just shrugged, clearly amused by the whole thing. “You’re welcome. But seriously, get it together. I can’t keep walking in on this.”

Woozi had a point, but standing there with my heart still racing and my skin burning where Mingyu had touched me, it was hard to admit that to myself. My mind was spinning, and my breath hadn’t quite returned to normal yet. Woozi’s casual smirk told me he wasn’t going to stick around, and after a few more seconds of awkward silence, he turned to leave, tossing a look over his shoulder as he made his way to the door.

“Try not to kill each other before I get back,” he quipped with a grin, and then, like a ghost, he was gone.

The door clicked shut, and suddenly, I was alone with Mingyu again. The weight of the silence crashed down around us, heavy and thick with all the things we weren’t saying. Mingyu took a step back, his hands falling to his sides, but his eyes never left mine. The intensity that had been there just moments before was still simmering beneath the surface, but now, something else had crept into his expression. Something quieter. More serious.

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. How could I even begin to unpack what had just happened? How we’d gone from avoiding each other to nearly falling right back into old habits?

“I meant what I said earlier,” Mingyu finally spoke, his voice low but steady. He took a small step toward me, his eyes searching mine, as though looking for something some sign that I felt it too. “I still matter to you. And you still matter to me.”

My heart clenched in my chest. I wanted to argue, to push him away, to tell him that we had moved on, that whatever was between us was over. But the truth was lodged in my throat, impossible to deny. He did still matter. He mattered too much.

I swallowed, my voice barely a whisper when I finally spoke. “Mingyu, we broke up for a reason. You know that.”

His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tightening as he looked down, breaking eye contact for the first time since Woozi had left. “Yeah, I know. But that doesn’t change how I feel. It never has.”

I could feel the weight of his words settling over me, pressing against my chest, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The truth of it was overwhelming. The love we had shared, the connection that still tied us together it had never gone away, no matter how much we had tried to pretend it had.

“Mingyu…” I started, but he cut me off.

“I know what you’re going to say,” he said quietly, his voice strained with the effort to hold back his frustration. “That it wasn’t enough. That we couldn’t make it work because of our schedules, because of the pressure, because of everything going on around us. But the truth is, we didn’t even try.”

My head snapped up at that, his words cutting through me like a knife. I wanted to argue, to defend myself, but he was right. We hadn’t tried, not really. We had let our insecurities and our fears drive us apart. We had both been too afraid of what might happen if we failed, so instead of fighting for each other, we had let go.

“You think I didn’t want to fight for us?” I asked, my voice shaking with the raw emotion that had been bottled up inside me for months. “You think I didn’t lie awake at night wondering if I’d made the biggest mistake of my life?”

He didn’t say anything, but the way his face softened told me he had felt it too. The regret. The sleepless nights. The empty spaces where we used to fill each other’s lives.

“I loved you, Mingyu,” I said, my voice cracking on the words. “I still do. But love wasn’t enough to fix the fact that we couldn’t make it work. And that’s on both of us.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Mingyu looked like he wanted to argue, like he had something more to say, but for once, he stayed quiet. His hands clenched at his sides, and I could see the battle raging behind his eyes. He was fighting the same war I was caught between the love we still had for each other and the reality of the situation we were in.

“Maybe it’s not about fixing everything,” he said after a long moment, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful. “Maybe we’re never going to have a perfect relationship. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have something.”

I shook my head, feeling the tears prickling at the edges of my eyes. “But we did have something, Mingyu. And we let it slip away.”

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing softly against my skin. The touch was gentle, tender, but it was laced with a kind of desperation that made my chest ache. “I don’t want to let you slip away again,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

I closed my eyes, leaning into his touch, feeling the warmth of his palm against my skin. Every part of me wanted to give in, to tell him that I felt the same way, that I couldn’t bear to let him go either. But there was a voice in the back of my mind that wouldn’t let me forget how hard it had been before. How much it had hurt to try and fail. And how terrified I was of repeating the same mistakes.

“What if it’s just not enough?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, my eyes still closed. “What if we hurt each other again?”

His thumb stilled on my cheek, and for a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer. But then, he spoke, his voice soft but sure. “Then we try harder. We figure it out together. Because I can’t walk away from this. From you. Not again.”

I opened my eyes to find him staring at me with that same intensity, the same unshakeable determination that had always drawn me to him. It was that look that had made me fall in love with him in the first place. And despite everything, despite all the reasons why we shouldn’t be together, I knew I couldn’t walk away from him either.

But it wasn’t that simple.

“We still work together,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady even as my heart pounded in my chest. “Our jobs… our lives… They’re still complicated.”

He let out a soft, frustrated breath, his hand slipping from my cheek. “I know. I’m not saying it’ll be easy. But maybe… maybe it’s worth trying. Even if it’s complicated.”

For a long moment, we just stood there, staring at each other, the weight of his words hanging in the air between us. The pull between us was as strong as ever, but the scars of our past were still fresh, and I knew that jumping back into something without thinking it through could be dangerous.

But at the same time… could I really walk away from him again? Could I ignore the way my heart ached for him, the way every fiber of my being wanted to reach out and hold onto him, no matter how complicated things were?

Finally, I let out a shaky breath, stepping back and breaking the physical connection between us. I needed space. I needed to think.

“Mingyu…” I started, my voice soft but firm. “I don’t know if we can just go back to the way things were.”

He didn’t look surprised, but the sadness that flickered across his face made my heart twist painfully. He nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets as he looked down at the floor. “Yeah. I get it.”

“But maybe…” I hesitated, my heart pounding in my chest. “Maybe we can figure it out. Slowly. One step at a time.”

His eyes snapped back to mine, hope flickering in them for the first time since we had started talking. “You mean that?”

I nodded, feeling the weight of my decision settle over me. “Yeah. I do. But we need to take it slow. We need to be careful this time.”

A slow smile spread across his face, and the sight of it made my heart flutter in a way that I hadn’t felt in months. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind my ear. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

I smiled, feeling a sense of cautious hope begin to bloom in my chest. Maybe we could figure it out this time. Maybe, just maybe, we could have something again.

His hand lingered against my cheek, his eyes locked on mine, and for a moment, the weight of everything the conversations, the history, the heartbreak it all disappeared. There was just Mingyu and the undeniable pull between us. The way my body responded to his touch as though I had no control, as though all the rational reasons we shouldn’t be doing this again evaporated into the air.

Maybe we were making the same mistake. Maybe we hadn’t learned anything from our time apart. But standing there, feeling the heat radiating from his body, the way his fingers curled against my skin, it didn’t matter. Not in this moment. Not when everything inside me screamed that I needed him.

His breath was shallow, his chest rising and falling in sync with mine. There was a brief second of hesitation in his eyes, as if he was giving me one last chance to back out. But I didn’t want to. I couldn’t. We’d been playing this game for too long, and the tension that had been bubbling under the surface had finally reached its breaking point.

I closed the distance between us, my lips crashing into his with a desperation that had been building since the moment we had walked away from each other. Mingyu responded immediately, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me in close, as if he was afraid I might slip away again. The kiss was hard, hungry, and full of all the things we hadn’t been able to say to each other.

His hands found my waist, gripping me tightly as he backed me up against the console. My hands slid up his chest, feeling the hard lines of his muscles through his shirt, and I couldn’t help the way my body reacted to his like we’d never been apart, like we were two pieces of a puzzle that fit perfectly together.

Mingyu’s lips left mine, trailing hot kisses down my jaw, my neck, his breath coming out in short, heated bursts. Every nerve in my body was on fire, and I arched into his touch, my fingers tangling in his hair as I held him close. It was like a dam had broken, and all the pent-up desire that had been sitting between us came rushing out, uncontrollable and wild.

“God, I’ve missed this,” he groaned against my skin, his hands sliding under my shirt, his fingers warm against the bare skin of my back. “Missed you.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped my lips as his hands roamed my body. I had missed this too missed him more than I wanted to admit. The way his touch made me forget about everything else, the way my body came alive under his hands, the way I felt when I was with him.

“Mingyu,” I breathed, my voice shaky, full of need. “Please.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His lips found mine again, and this time, the kiss was slower, deeper, full of all the passion we had been holding back for so long. His hands moved to my hips, lifting me up onto the console, and I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him in close, feeling the solid warmth of his body pressing against mine.

His hands slid up my sides, pushing my shirt up as he kissed me harder, more urgently. I could feel the tension coiling in my stomach, the need for him building with every touch, every kiss. My hands found the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and over his head, my fingers immediately exploring the hard planes of his chest, the familiar feel of his skin under my fingertips sending a thrill through me.

Mingyu let out a low groan, his hands moving with purpose as he pulled me closer, his lips never leaving mine. It was like we couldn’t get enough of each other, like we were trying to make up for all the lost time, all the months we had spent apart. The desperation between us was electric, charging the air around us as we lost ourselves in each other.

His hands moved lower, slipping under the waistband of my pants, his touch sending a jolt of pleasure through me. I gasped, breaking the kiss as my head fell back, my body arching into his touch. He grinned against my skin, clearly enjoying the way I was unraveling under him.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed this,” he murmured, his lips trailing down my neck, his hands making quick work of my clothes as he pulled them off, tossing them to the side with an urgency that mirrored my own.

I didn’t have the words to respond. All I could do was cling to him, my body aching for his touch, my mind lost in the haze of desire that had consumed us both. His hands were everywhere exploring, teasing, driving me wild with need. Every touch, every kiss was like a reminder of how good we were together, how much I had missed this missed him.

“Mingyu, please,” I gasped, my fingers digging into his shoulders as he pressed me back against the console, his body covering mine. “I need you.”

His eyes met mine, dark and full of desire, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. There was no hesitation in his gaze, no second-guessing. He knew what I wanted what we both wanted. And without another word, he gave it to me.

The moment he entered me, the world fell away. There was no space, no time just the two of us, tangled together in the heat of the moment. His movements were slow at first, deliberate, as though he wanted to savor every second. But as the tension between us built, so did the urgency. Our bodies moved together in a rhythm that was both familiar and new, the heat between us rising with every touch, every kiss, every desperate gasp of breath.

It was like coming home. Everything about this felt right his touch, his body, the way we fit together like we had never been apart. I could feel the pleasure building inside me, coiling tighter and tighter with every movement, every whisper of his name on my lips.

“Mingyu…” I moaned, my voice trembling with the intensity of it all. “I’m close.”

His grip tightened on me, his pace quickening as he buried his face in the crook of my neck, his breath hot against my skin. “Me too,” he groaned, his voice strained with the effort to hold back, to drag this out as long as possible.

But we were both too far gone. The pleasure hit me like a tidal wave, crashing over me with a force that left me gasping, my body trembling as I came undone in his arms. Mingyu followed soon after, his body tensing against mine as he groaned my name, his hands gripping me tightly as he rode out the waves of pleasure with me.

For a moment, neither of us moved, our breathing ragged, our bodies still pressed together, slick with sweat. The studio was silent except for the sound of our heavy breathing, the air between us charged with the remnants of what had just happened.

Mingyu lifted his head, his eyes meeting mine, and there was a softness there a tenderness that made my heart ache. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. The look in his eyes said it all. We weren’t just making up for lost time. This was more than that. This was us, falling back into each other, because no matter how much we had tried to stay apart, we were always going to end up here.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair out of my face. “I missed you,” he whispered, his voice full of sincerity, of emotion that he rarely let show.

I smiled, my hand reaching up to cup his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin under my palm. “I missed you too.”

We stayed like that for a while, tangled together in the afterglow, our bodies still pressed close as we caught our breath. The intensity of the moment had faded, but the connection between us hadn’t. It was still there, stronger than ever, and I knew that whatever happened next, we’d face it together.

Eventually, Mingyu pulled away, his hand trailing down my arm as he helped me sit up. He reached for his shirt, handing it to me with a soft smile, and I couldn’t help but laugh as I pulled it over my head, the fabric still warm from his body.

“Woozi’s gonna kill us if he finds out what we did in here,” I said with a grin, my voice still breathless from everything that had just happened.

Mingyu chuckled, shaking his head as he slipped back into his pants. “Yeah, but it was worth it.”

I laughed, the sound light and carefree, and for the first time in a long time, I felt… happy. Things weren’t perfect. We still had a lot to figure out, a lot to work through. But in that moment, none of that mattered. All that mattered was that we were together, and we had a chance to start again.

As Mingyu pulled me close, pressing a soft kiss to my lips, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of hope. Maybe we didn’t have all the answers yet. Maybe we’d still face challenges along the way. But we had each other, and for now, that was enough.

[snoopyracing]

re: our "normal girl" conversation earlier... could I get Lando + 2 from your fluff prompt list? 🥺

my sweet viv ❤️ here you go!!

lando + "you're beautiful, you know that right?"

you never thought you would have ended up in a relationship with someone famous, let alone a formula driver.

the driver in question? lando norris.

the guy who had a track record of only being seen with or dating models. something you were the complete opposite of. you didn't have millions of followers on instagram with thousands of men flocking to your comments or dms to try and get your attention. your account was private with not even 500 followers and you liked it that way. you didn't treat the paddock like your own personal runway (not that there was anything wrong with that) but it was just not you. you had a normal job and sometimes couldn't make it to every one of lando's races and he understood that. you were just the opposite of everything the "model" f1 wag "should" be.

all you wanted to do was live your life the way you wanted and support your boyfriend. something that many people apparently had an issue with. they would try and say you weren't good enough for lando, or that he was going to cheat on you, anything to get under your skin. they would constantly compare your to the other wags, trying to pit you against each other. which honestly made you laugh because you were good friends with some of them.

it just amazed you that people were so upset about you living a normal life and that somehow lando was in love with someone that didn't look like they came straight off of the cover of vogue.

you knew lando loved you and for some time you had been able to just brush off the hate, but eventually even the strongest person breaks.

lando knew something was off when you refused to walk with him through the paddock. telling him that you would show up later. he didn't pry though, figuring if something was truly wrong you would tell him. so he gave you a kiss goodbye and told you he would see you later. it wasn't that you didn't want to go with lando. it was that you didn't want a million cameras on you capturing content of you for everyone to nitpick. you prayed that you could sneak in behind some crew members and not be noticed.

and when the time came you truly thought your plan was working until you accidently made eye contact with one of the hundreds of photographers and in an instant a camera was in your face. by the time you made it to lando's driver room you were on the verge of crying and when you saw those pretty blue eyes of his staring back at you you couldn't help but let the tears fall.

lando pulled you into his chest his arms wrapping around you as to protect you from whatever had made you break down like this. "what's got my girl so upset? you've been off all day."

the soothing sound of lando's voice and his strong arms wrapped around you told you that as much as your didn't want to tell him, you knew you had to. so as the two of you stood there in his tiny drivers room, you let everything out. you didn't want to be a bother, didn't want to stress him out or have him think you were a crybaby, but a person can only take so much.

when lando heard how much you had been struggling with things his heart broke. he knew people for some odd reason hated that you were 'normal' and found any little thing to poke fun at you for. he tried to protect you from it, but in this day and age of the internet there is truly no escaping it. and to see you broken like this in his arms put a sour taste in his mouth. as much as he shouldn't have to deal with hate, he had gotten used to it. he was an athlete people were never going to be happy with him, but you shouldn't be hated for simply existing and for loving him.

"hey look at me-" he tucked his finger under your chin, lifting your head up towards him. "you're the most beautiful girl in the world, you know that right? i love you so much it drives me crazy. and it hurts to see you hurting because of me. fuck anyone who doesn't think we aren't meant to be or that you aren't good enough for me. you're everything and more to me. you love and support me unconditionally and i couldn't ask for more than that. i'm gonna put out a statement about the hate. the love of my life should not be afraid to walk with me anywhere. and if anyone has a problem they can say it to my face."

you stood in awe at him. his words making you cry more, but only out of love. you couldn't believe you had managed to have a man like lando in your life. who was so open with his feelings and never made you doubt just how much he loved you.

"i love you more than words can describe lan."

[ddejavvu]

Okay! Please take your time writing this I understand if it doesn’t make sense! 🫶🏾!!

So I love over caring reader she’s adorable! And I was wondering if you could do something like she’s not an agents and she’s just Aaron’s cute little girlfriend!

And Aaron Comes over to check on her every night when he gets off of work at the same time. It’s pretty late and a very common time for violent crimes to happen! And since Aaron comes to see her at the exact same time she just figured. “I’m just gonna leave the door unlocked for him!” Not knowing how much danger that could put her in.

So when Aaron knocks on the door expecting her to come over and open it like she usually does. It’s rubs him the wrong way when you yell “It’s open Aaron!” And how does he an fbi agent who deals with Incidents like this all the time when people just leave the door open and then boom dead react to this?

Love you and your writing!!

~sincerely silk 🤍🫶🏾✨

Aaron feels bad knocking on your door past midnight, but he'd given his spare key to your place to Jessica while he was away on business, and he hasn't seen her since he landed. He'd gone straight to your apartment after hearing that Jack was already asleep, safely tucked away in Jess's spare room, and now he stands outside your door with his go-bag and a box of pizza he's planning on sharing with you.

He loves his son more than anything, but he'll let the boy stay with his aunt for one more night if it means he gets you to himself.

He knocks lightly, used to pounding on the door much harsher to speak to barricaded unsubs. You hear him even if he's not breaking it down, and Aaron feels his stomach drop clear to his feet when you call back with a muffled shout, "It's open!"

It's open.

Your door is unlocked.

Your voice sounds like it's coming from your bedroom, down the hallway and out of view of the entryway. You'd been in your bed for god knows how long past midnight with your door unlocked, and you hadn't even verified his identity before announcing that you were completely vulnerable.

All of a sudden the heated weight of the pizza box in his hands makes his stomach turn. He opens the door, hating how little resistance he's met with, and deposits his things weakly on the couch. He places the pizza on the coffee table and makes a point to lock both of the latches on your door, even going as far as to jiggle the handle once it's closed to make sure it doesn't budge.

It doesn't, but maybe he'll check one more time before sleeping, just in case.

He starts down the hallway and each step he takes feels leaden. Your hallway is dark, and your door is mostly shut- god, you'd have no idea that someone was in your apartment until it was too late.

When he pushes open the door to your bedroom you're waiting for him with an eager grin, but at the grave, stony frown on his face, you slump slightly.

"Aaron," You hum cautiously, "Are you alright? Tough case?"

"You left the door open." He states, his voice purposefully controlled.

You nod slowly, "Yeah, you don't have your key, do you? Jess said she's still got it at her place."

"You can't leave the door open." Aaron forgoes any acknowledgement of your reasoning, stomach still churning uncomfortably.

"It was just for a little bit," You insist, "Only when I saw you were coming here from the airport."

"You can't leave the door open." Aaron repeats, sounding like a broken record. Over and over and over again he sees flashes of darkness and shadow in his mind, a grey mask, a haunting pair of eyes, a dead woman on the ground.

It's something he's seen before, something he's all-too-familiar with, and he thinks his nausea might overtake him if he doesn't shut his brain down first.

"I'm okay." You seem to settle into the realization that you're not getting out of this one, and you stand from the bed to approach him, "I'm sorry, Aaron. I didn't think about it. You're right, I- I shouldn't have left the door open. I won't anymore. I'll keep it locked, I promise."

"You can't-" He tries again, but his voice quavers slightly, and you rush to take his hands.

"I won't." You promise, kissing the backs of his large hands while you squeeze them in your own smaller ones, "I won't, Aaron. I promise. I'll lock it. I'm okay, I'll lock it."

He steadies himself while you hold his hands, letting you squeeze life back into him where it had threatened to leave him to rot in his own trauma. When he feels like taking a break won't kill him, he drags oxygen into his lungs, blinking away a tear in his left eye, "There's pizza on the counter."

You smile sadly, nodding and using your intertwined hands to pull him towards the kitchen. You sit him at the counter and serve him two slices on a paper plate, and he watches wearily as you flick the lights on in the entryway and survey the locks.

"I locked them." He tells you, pizza still on its plate and not anywhere near his mouth. He's not sure he's hungry quite yet, but the heat radiating off of the slices is nice on his hands.

"Thank you, Aaron. And I will, too," You promise, jiggling the door handle just as he had done, and nodding to yourself when it doesn't budge.

"Please do." He begs, trying to make it sound much stronger than it is.

"Eat your pizza," You pad back into the kitchen, sitting beside him at the next stool over. You rub a hand over his tense back as he sits, and he lets himself relax into the feeling of your touch, your warmth, your life.

When he finally raises a slice to his mouth you lean forwards to bite off the edge of the crust. You give him a guilty smile as you chew, but he can't stop a grin of his own from growing around his mouthful of cheesy bread. He thinks he might let you devour the whole pie if you wanted to; anything so long as you're alive.

[griffin-girl-r]

You're not mine (Part 1)

Created: 08.10.2023

Finished: 08.10.2023

Edited: 08.10.2023

Age: 15

Word count: 1,344

Warnings: Abandonment, Child neglecting, Self harm, Blood, Blade, Arguments, Screaming, Child favoritism

Note: Please proceed with caution if you're triggered by any of the warnings above.

Request: Yes (Wattpad user) (@herospark18)

Pairing: WinterWidow

Summary: Natasha adopted you from the Red Room when you were only a baby, but when she and Bucky had their own child, she started forgetting about you.

Part 2

—

"I hate you!" You shouted, slamming the door behind you

"Y/N, we're not done!" Natasha, your mother, shouted from downstairs "Get back here!"

This was a daily occurrence by now.

The, once nonexistent, daily arguments between you and Natasha only got worse over the years.

Although Natasha isn't your biological mother, she raised you like her own after she saved you from the Red Room.

You were only 2 months old when she adopted you and everything went well. You both formed a happy little family for a while.

That was until Natasha started dating Bucky a little after your 10th birthday and she slowly started spending less and less time with you.

But not Bucky was the factor that determined your mother-daughter relationship with Natasha to drift apart.

The main reason behind everything was your 5-year-old baby sister, Tanya, who came into the world a few months after Natasha and Bucky started dating, with a little bit of help from Tony and his technology that, nowadays, seems to defy all odds.

Tanya's arrival only strengthened the bond between her parents, who had a romantic history that started years before even you were born, and, at the same time, weakened the bond between you and Natasha.

You knew the drill by now.

'Tanya is perfect.'

'Tanya is ours.'

'Tanya is innocent.'

Their voices echoed in your brain like a broken record.

Tanya knows that she can get away with everything and Tanya does get away with everything.

Since her birth, it was as if Natasha had completely forgotten about your existence.

It began by ignoring you while she focused her attention solely on Tanya.

She wouldn't feed you anymore, wake you up for school, or cuddle you at night.

She didn't even notice that you changed.

But, how could she, when Tanya was everything she noticed?

—

You stared at yourself in the mirror.

Determination was etched on your pale face as you picked up the blade that was on your sink.

It became a relief for you.

Sliding that blade on your wrist helped you forget about the unbearable pain in your chest.

The crimson blood that was pooling from the cuts held your attention. The pain of being abandoned by two different mothers was momentarily shoved at the back of your mind.

You started harming yourself 2 years ago when you couldn't take Natasha's ignorance any more.

You haven't told anyone and it's not like they would care if they knew anyways. Tanya was the center of their world, not you.

She was the perfect baby, while you were the adopted bastard and a grand mistake that Natasha made.

Natasha never admitted it out loud but you understood the message from the way she was treating you.

The blade fell down from your hand into the sink.

'Is it all because she never gave birth to me?'

And you stared at the trail of blood it left on the white sink.

'Are adopted kids not important, just because they're not blood related?'

You slowly understood.

'Will I ever be treated the same as Tanya?'

The only one left to understand was Natasha.

—

"Y/N, do you want to play with my dolls later?" Tanya asked you a few hours later, during dinner

You pulled at the sleeves of your hoodie even more, hiding your hands inside of them.

"Sure, Tatu." You gave the small child a shy smile "I think I'd like that."

"Tatiana." Natasha sternly looked at Tanya but the tone of her voice was soft "Remember we have a movie night tonight. You can play with Y/N another time."

"Can Y/N come too?" Tanya's big, innocent eyes sparkled while she asked, as Natasha refilled the girl's glass of orange juice

"I think she has more important things to do." Natasha replied, not even bothering to ask what you want "We're going to have a mother-daughter night. It's going to be just us two, sweetheart. Wouldn't it be fun?"

"Yay!" Tanya cheered, throwing her arms in the air

But as she did, she accidentally knocked over the glass filled with juice.

"Oh oh..." Tanya said, looking at the spilled juice "Sorry, Mama."

"Don't worry, baby girl." Natasha smiled, sitting up to clean the mess "Accidents happen."

"That's not what you said the last time when I accidentally knocked over my glass of water." You bitterly spat out at Natasha

"You have no right to talk, Y/N." Natasha snapped at you "Shut up!"

"Natalia, honey, calm down." Bucky, who was sitting beside Natasha, put his hand on her arm "She didn't do anything wrong. She's just a kid."

"She's not a kid, James." Natasha shouted, turning her head in Bucky's direction "She's a grown-up teenager now."

"Talia, I think you are just overreacting right now." Bucky kept trying to calm his wife, sparing a glance in your direction

He looked down at your plate that was untouched, the effect of your lack of appetite obvious on your skinny and fragile frame.

"I think I'm full." You quickly sat up from the table

"Sit back down, right in this instance, Y/N." Natasha shouted at you "You don't disrespect your mother like that and get away with it."

"Well, lately, you didn't act like a mother at all." You shouted back at Natasha, pain evident in your voice, but Natasha was oblivious to it "All you care about is Tanya."

"Because she's my child!" Natasha screamed offended "It's only normal to care for her."

"I used to be your child as well!" You shouted, tears forming in your eyes "I still am your child."

"You're not mine!" Natasha shouted and you widened your eyes shocked "You're not anything to me! You aren't my child because you don't have my blood. I didn't carry you or feel you grow day by day inside of me. But with Tanya, I did. You are just a mistake, Y/N!"

"You are the mistake here, Mom!" You cried, slightly lifting your sleeves as Bucky's eyebrows shot in his hairline "Look!" You showed your scarred wrists to the woman "This is all because of you! Why can't you love me like any mother should do? Blood shouldn't be important! You raised me, Natasha."

Bucky reached his metal arm slowly towards your extended arms to inspect your wrists but he was pushed aside by Natasha, who blocked out the fact that you were hurting because of her and ignored the truth, her intrusive thoughts winning as she said something she would never be able to take back.

"You were never truly a part of this family, Y/N!" Natasha shouted "Get that in your head. You are not our blood and you will never be. I saved you because I thought that you would change but I see that you didn't. You are the same. But I did change. I am not the same Natasha that I was in the Red Room. I am better."

Shaking your head, you took a few steps backward.

"I can't believe you." You whispered in disbelief

"Y/N..." Bucky breathed out, sitting up from his chair "Don't listen to your mother, she's just tired. She didn't mean what she said."

"She knew damn well what she was saying." You kept shaking your head, a lone tear falling down your cheek

"Then get that in your head once and for all." Natasha shouted once more, stubbornly fixated on her wrong belief that she was right

"I hate you!" You shouted at Natasha "I wish you never rescued me from the Red Room!"

And with that, you stormed out of the house and ran into the veil of darkness provided by the night.

Bucky tried to run after you but it was too late.

He found no sight of you or any clue where you might have run away to.

—

Bucky walked inside the house and looked at Natasha who was still oblivious to the damage she had done and muttered one question.

"What have you done?!"

—

Permanent taglist: @lizlil , @lovelyy-moonlight , @theunchosenonee , @ravensinthedaylight , @justarandomreaderxoxo , @youralphawolf72 , @mmmmokdok , @natashasnoodle , @observeowl , @circe143 , @kassies-take , @taliiiaasteria , @sheneonromanoff , @darkstar225

[pastel-peach-writes]

hai !! can i request a reader who looks down on themselves until korra confesses n they get a huge confidence burst ?? :D

Hi! Of course!

Shy Until You're Not | Korra Headcanons

╰┈➤ PLOT: You were known to have low self-esteem, well, until the Avatar made an accidental confession.

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: Lower Case Intended, Kinda Short, Light Cursing, Not Proofread

⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ

– you were the type to compare yourself to others

– bender or nonbender, you would see someone and wonder why you weren't as good as them, what you could do to be like them, or wish you were them

– you spend most of your time comparing, you didn't notice how good you are at things too.

– whether that's making a joke, taking care of people, drawing, or fighting, you were good at something and you refused to see that.

– you know who didn't refuse to see that though? Korra.

– she noticed everything about you even if you didn't yourself

– she didn't understand why you didn't see what she did in yourself. you were always there motivating her, inspiring her, making her fall head over heels for you

– when you first met, she thought you were shy or some sort of people pleaser so she excused the behavior but once you got comfortable with each other and she got to know you, she didn't understand why you kept putting yourself down in front of her

– and then it clicked

– you were trying to impress or flatter her by knocking yourself down, you genuinely meant what you were saying.

– korra hated that.

– anytime you would put yourself down in her presence, she would confront you.

– "eXcuse yoU! I don't let anyone speak about my friend that way and that includes you." "now, what did we say about the negative self-talk?" "dude, seriously. I will wack you if you keep this up."

– korra's very overprotective. she will literally swat your arm or flick your ear when you talk bad about yourself.

– even through the flaws you claimed you have, korra couldn't help but fall for you. she likes everything about you, even the things you don't like about yourself.

– you were the same way with her.

– sometimes, when she was really down in the dumps, she hated how abrasive she can be but you love her bold and bluntness. it's what makes korra, well, korra.

– you both like each other despite your flaws and honestly, any genuine love should be that way.

– annnyyyways, korra's confession came kind of abruptly.

– you two were hanging together, chilling on top of a rooftop (don't ask), and you were talking down about yourself... again.

–– "You know, I wish I was cool enough to think of this," you bashfully say as you swing your dangling feet. It was sunset in Ba Sing Se and while on a random Avatar trip, you and Korra decided to slip away and take a quick break.

Korra from beside you sighs. She picks at the fur on her Water Tribe wear and crosses her legs at the ankle. She really didn't understand why you talk about yourself like this.

You are the coolest person she knows. You're always there for her and crack the funniest jokes at the most inappropriate times which pleases her because it annoys Tenzin. Not to mention you're painstakingly beautiful and make her heart flutter when you smile.

"But you know, I'm not. You are though." You shrugged, still swinging your feet.

Korra sighs again, but this time out of annoyance. "I hate when you do that."

"Do what?"

"When you talk bad about yourself as if you're not cool, awesome, funny, or all the other adjectives you use to describe others. And honestly, it ticks me off. I don't let anyone else talk about you that way so why should I let you?" Korra shuffles to sit up straighter, legs crossed. "I don't mean to sound like a broken record here, but it really irks my nerves. I can't stand it."

Your feet stopped swinging when Korra went on her tangent. You didn't notice you were talking bad about yourself. It's just something you've done. You can't remember how or when it started either. "I'm sorry. I just--"

"No," Korra sighs again, this time out of depletion. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said all that. Not like that, anyways. You are literally one of the coolest people on this planet and it kills me to know that you don't think the same. You're kind, compassionate, and you make me want to be a better person. I don't know if it's because I like you or something but--"

"Wait a second."

Korra froze. She didn't say what she thought she did... right? Oh, Spirits, this wasn't how this was supposed to go. Korra was going to ask you the night of the Water Tribe festival after she showed you her home and won you all sorts of prizes. She was going to confess to you a few moments into the fireworks so she could watch the pretty colors dance across your face as she spilled out her deepest emotions to you. It was supposed to be romantic. Not a blurt.

While Korra was having her internal freakout, you were grinning on the outside. The Avatar had a crush on you and she was blushing at the possibility that she confessed to you just now. There was something about her shyness, how she wore her nerves on her face that made your insides turn in a good way.

It was hard to explain but it was like warm butterflies exploded and performed their congregation dance in your stomach then flew up to your chest and fed sweet pollen and nectar to your ego.

Oh, Korra was never going to hear the end of this now. ––

– after her confession, korra wasn't sure if accidentally spilling out her guts was a good thing

– yes, her accidental confession led to you guys dating but it also led to countless nights of teasing and you wearing a proud grin on your face that korra wanted nothing but to kiss off of you

– whatever korra was expecting from you in a relationship, it wasn't this.

– because of your insecurities, she thought you were going to be the shyer one, maybe even the one who got flustered more often or had the smallest things make you weak in the knees but it was actually the contrary!

– it was like you were given a miraculous that made you cocky, flirtatious, and suave. (iykyk).

– korra would like to call your increase in flirty interactions and ego boost a flaw fallen upon her, but she would be lying. She loved it.

– she loved the smirk you wore when you teased her. She loved how your confidence grew when a blush would show on her cheeks

– she loved seeing your shoulders square, your eyes brighten, and your teeth showing themselves off in that cocky smile you often put on

– sure, it would be a bit embarrassing when you would tease her in front of her friends and family, but what's a little embarrassment? some may say the Avatar needed to be humbled. What better way to be humbled than your partner teasing the shit out of you?

– Korra had no clue where that insecure and shy person went after her confesssion.

– they rarely showed up anymore.

– korra saw it as a trophy that you didn't compare yourself to her often and rarely thought you weren't enough for her.

– before, when you saw the people she surrounded herself with, powerful benders and non-benders, you thought you weren't enough which was quite the opposite.

– you didn't do that anymore and it made Korra extremely proud. Happy. You finally saw the person she saw in you after all this time.

– after her realization, korra found you and squeezed you so tightly you thought she was trying to make juice out of you.

– she gave you many kisses after being told she was squeezing you too tightly and reassured you about how much she loved you for you and how awesome you are.

– you weren't sure what caused this reaction or behavior but you weren't complaining

– you were being held and kissed by the Avatar. Who complains about that?

WC: 1,316

[cherry-cola-on-ice]

Hello! if you accept requests, can I make it?

I hope the answer is yes🙂‍↕️

I really, really, REALLY want to see the situation with Thomas Hewitt when he was too affected by Hoyt's joke. Thomas was offended by him to the point of tears for the first time in many years, and Y/N calms him down.This only makes Tommy cry harder, since no one has calmed him so tenderly before. They spend a long time together like this until Tommy stops crying. (I ESPECIALLY WANT MORE DESCRIPTION OF TOMMY’S EMOTIONS. You can even write on his behalf if you wish🥺)

thank you very much, and have a nice day!

Someone to fall back on

It was a joke. A mean joke, but a joke nonetheless.

Thomas Hewitt heard them all before. The mean jokes, snide comments and straight up merciless teasing. From strangers, from victims. From some of his own family.

Hoyt's words towards him has always had a underlying tone of hate. Talking down to him like he was a child. Criticizing everything he's done to keep his family safe. And this only seemed to escalate when Thomas met you.

Brave, beautiful, wonderful you. He never imagined that he could love one person so much.

But not everyone thought your love was beautiful.

"Why the fuck else would someone stay with him?!? It ain't definitely for his looks!"

"That bitch is just waitin' for him to fuck up like he always do!"

"You must really fuck 'em good if they're willin' to put up with your ugly mug, eh Tommy? "

It hurt. It hurts.

There was so much nasty thoughts swimming around Thomas's head, that he didn't feel that first tear fall down his cheek. Or the one after that. Or the one after that.

He didn't feel his hands gripping his hair so tightly, he was pulling out strands. He couldn't hear anything else but the pounding of his own heart and his uncle's voice replaying like a broken record. His body shaking, breathing coming out in short puffs.

Anxiety ate away at him, piece by piece. Despair tore through his heart like a freight train.

Everything was wrong. He was wrong. He was the monster keeping you in this hell hole for his own selfish reasons. He kept you because he loved you.

And you stayed because you feared him.

Thomas could feel his consciousness slipping away. Good, maybe he'd never wake back up.

But what would happen to you?

"-Mas? Thomas? Tommy!"

Your hands grabbed his, prying them off his abused scalp. He was scared to look at you, not knowing what look would be on your face. Disgust? Fear? He couldn't handle any of those.

He heard you sigh, then could feel your body sit next to him. When did he get down on the floor?

"Tommy, baby, are you okay?" You scoffed "Of course you're not. Your uncle's a asshole."

You grabbed his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. His teary eyes reluctantly met yours. You smiled "There's my handsome man. With his pretty eyes. "

Slipping on to his lap, you ran your fingers through his hair "You can't believe everything Hoyt says, Thomas. He's a bitter, old man."

"I love you, Thomas Hewitt. And I'm sorry if I haven't told you enough, showed you enough. And I'm sorry that Hoyt's words hurt that much. But nothing he says is, or will ever be, true."

With the upmost tenderness, you removed the beaten leather mask from his face. Placing a kiss on his forehead, you continued "I'm here because I love you. I stayed because I love you. Not because I'm scared, not because of pity. I love you, Thomas. Just you."

Thomas let out a broken sob and you brought his head to your chest "Tommy, please, there's nothing wrong with crying. I'd rather you get snot all over me than you kept all this in."

The quiet sobs turned into quiet wails as Thomas's arm pulled you closer to him. You hummed, some song he couldn't place a name on. Maybe it wasn't real, Thomas thought, you had a knack for random melodies.

But you were real.

This was real.

[hippolotamus]

Hiiiii Hippo 💕💕💕

Buddie fic title:

If only I knew you had electric fingerprints

-❤️🪐

Hiiii Saturn!!!! So lovely to see you here! You said Buddie. Please know you have my eternal gratitude for forgiving my slip into Diaz Family Feels. 💞🦛

After the debacle of broken salad bowls, 'I think you should go home' and 'This is your mess now', Eddie thought that he and Chris had worked through the biggest tangles of dating in the Diaz household. Introducing Marisol was almost a non-event. Eddie might even go so far as to call it a success.

He will now admit that line of thinking was more than a bit premature and naïve on his part.

Maybe it was his own growth and evolutions in the relationship department that led him to assume Christopher wouldn't face the same issues. And, well, technically he didn't. No, Eddie's son dealt him an entirely new, foreign set of tribulations. A one-eighty of Eddie's nesting instincts where Christopher is leading on five different girls. Five!

Wasn't it just last year they were discussing how much shirt sleeve was acceptable to show? What the hell happened?

And, OK, it's a new world with new methods of communication and apps and how teenagers interact with each other. Eddie likes to think he isn't completely stupid, because he tries to stay informed about current trends that he would honestly rather not know about. But no article or discussion with the school guidance counselor - or Frank - could have prepared him for tonight. No tips, tricks, signs to watch for could have fortified him for the devastating blow of 'We loved her and she left us anyway' and 'I can't remember her voice anymore'.

When Buck emerges from Chris's room, Eddie is still leaning against the wall, crushed under the weight of a thousand emotions and questions, attempting to prevent his heart from spilling past the walls of his chest. To keep it from slipping through the makeshift cage where his fingers press bruises into his skin, just below his collarbone.

Buck squeezes Eddie's shoulder before wordlessly leading them to the kitchen where he pours them both a glass of water and he waits. Waits for Eddie to speak, because it's what they do. They don't press. And maybe they should - more or earlier - but that's another thought for another day. For another version of Eddie that doesn't feel like the ground has been ripped out from underneath him.

"I don't- How am I supposed to-" Eddie blows out a harsh breath, frustrated that he can't form a complete question. That there is no entry in the non-existent Parenting Handbook for how to tackle this scenario.

"Eds," Buck says the nickname so carefully, so gently, like his tongue is shaping it from the most fragile glass. His hand tentatively slides across the tabletop until it's resting on top of Eddie's own. "You don't need to have all the answers or know exactly what to do."

"I know I don't. It's just-" He cuts himself off, huffing out an unamused chuckle. Because he doesn't know.

And, look, Eddie is fully aware that he doesn't have to be one hundred percent in control all the time, but it doesn't make him hate whatever this is any less. This combination of lost and thrown off course; of sad, bitter anger muddled together with desperation. His own eagerness to bargain for a way to make this situation more palatable. A pathetic yearning for the chance to go back. To never enlist and close himself off. To splurge on the digital camera with video recorder so he could capture a truly ludicrous amount of everyday, mundane moments.

How many hours of footage might they have collected? Of simple things like Shannon chopping vegetables or putting on makeup before a night out. Her and Eddie slow dancing in the backyard to music only they could hear. Or her laughing, bright and bold, as she smudged dirt and filth across Eddie's cheek after he showed her how to change the oil in her car. The way he pulled her in with his own grimy hands, pressing their mouths together so he could swallow the sound.

He blinks rapidly to keep tears from falling as he wonders how many instances would have featured her rolling her eyes - exactly the way Christopher does now - and shoving her palm in front of the lens.

But he'll never know because he's stuck with the choices he made. That they made. He can tell their son stories, bring him for graveside visits, and offer small souvenirs of the time Shannon had on earth, but that's all Eddie can do. He can't replicate what it was like to be in her presence. He can't convey how she was soft and gentle and all the things Eddie isn't, while also being sharp and spirited. How she smelled like peonies and summer rain.

Whatever he has to offer is two dimensional. Framed photographs, memories stored in his mind. Some of them also stored in Chris's though Eddie suspects in a completely different way. Hopefully in a way that doesn't taste as much like guilt and regret for things left unfinished and words left unsaid. Words like-

Dear Christopher.

He swallows hard around the phantom taste of sea spray from the Pacific Ocean, has the urge to claw at damp, sun-warmed sand that isn't there. And god only knows how his best friend has any idea what's scratching at Eddie's brain, but he does. And Eddie is so, so grateful when Buck rubs his thumb across Eddie's knuckles and asks if he should stay or would Eddie rather it just be him and Chris.

As much as Eddie would like Buck to be present as an extra layer of protection, he knows this is something he has to do himself. Even though, as he walks Buck to the front door, promising to call later, he gets the distinct feeling he won't actually be alone.

In the low lighting currently casting shadows around his bedroom, Eddie's fingers tremble as he reaches for the small safe in the back of his closet. A simple design meant to hold important, precious things. The metal dial is cool under his fingertips, easily manipulated as he rotates it right and left and right again until the door pulls open.

It's been years since he read the words written in Shannon's flowing script, but he knows them like he knows his own name. He traces over her loops and arches, wishing, like always, that he had more time. That he could put off performing this errand for a few more years, decades, lifetimes. Even if he knows it's only for selfish reasons. Because he owes this to Chris and to Shannon. It's on him to follow her instructions and deliver this remaining link between mother and son.

He holds the folded pieces of paper in his hands, feeling something familiar wrap around him that isn’t the usual despair. Something that's more like spun gold flowing between the note and his skin.

Eddie bites back a sob as it dives beneath the surface to wind its way around nerves and spill through blood vessels on its way to his heart. As a calm takes root, anchoring in all four chambers, unfurling and flourishing. As the room, that typically smells like lavender fabric softener and the fancy vanilla linen spray Pepa bought for him, is permeated by the overwhelming scent of Texas nights - filled with crackling humidity wrapped in silvery starlight - and velvety pink peonies.

He squeezes his eyes shut, breathing it in, inhaling deeply to his core like it might allow him to hold onto this moment forever. When at last his lungs protest, forcing him to exhale, his eyes flutter open again.

Eddie closes the door to the safe, hearing it shut with a satisfying click.

"Thank you," he whispers, letting his gaze drift to the letter once more before he walks down the hall to pass it to its rightful owner. His son. Their son. A living, breathing tether between past, present and future.

He knocks on the doorframe, briefly saddened by the sight of Shannon and Christopher’s picture turned face down on the desk. It only makes him more sure he’s doing the right thing.

“Hey, buddy…”

For additional Feels™️ may I recommend

[jasonsknight3]

Alright, it is time for chapter two! Enjoy!

⚠️warning⚠️ violence, mentions of gore, gun, and drugs.

The longest night

Chapter two

Fear Begins Now

Ever since you lost Jason it felt like a piece of you was missing. In its place was a deep hole that was filled back up with loneliness, sadness, and emptiness. Sure, you picked yourself back up but you have never loved another since Jason. You tried but. O filled that void. That loss. However, picking yourself up doesn’t mean that you are completely healed. In fact, you weren’t. You knew that. Sometimes you still have nightmares about that film. The film Joker sent Batman.

Your presence wasn’t known to Alfred, Batman, or Nightwing. All of them watched the film. Jason was so…broken, dead eyes, empty. He was empty. His body, broken and hurt. Misshapen, pieces missing, cuts, burns. A horrid sight. He was tied to a chair with barbed wire. Joker's voice came through the video. “Have you got something to tell the nice man Jason?” Joker questioned. Jason’s voice was rough and barely audible. “My name…is Jason Todd.” He said without looking at the camera recording him. Joker walked into the camera view and circled around Jason. “And who do ya hate?” Joker asked with an edge of humor in his voice as if trying to not laugh at a cruel joke. “Batman.” Jason answered quietly. “Excellent, of course you do.” Joker turned back to the camera, his face taking up most of it. “Here that Bats? Kidd not yours anymore. He’s mine. Mine to do with as I wish.” Joker walked away from the camera screen and spoke in a “hey I just got an idea” kind of way. “Hey, I never asked, what’s the big secret?” Joker curled around Jason leaning down to him. “Who is the big bad Bats name?” He cooed. “Tell me?” Joker walked away standing a little bit away from Jason. “Of course sir, it’s…” before Jason could even say a word Joker pulled out his ace of spades. His 15-3 revolver and shot Jason knocking him over. Seeing that you screamed in pain. It felt as if you had been shot too. Except there was no freedom of death. The bullet leaving you with pain, loss, and suffering. Bruce had you dragged out of the room by nightwing. Everyone mourned, everyone except Bruce. He never openly cried and you didn’t forgive him for that.

Currently you work at a business office as a “coffee girl” is what they call you. However, you really just work the front desk answering calls, organizing documents, and running errands. Surprisingly, you made good money but were treated poorly. Your second job was a bit more secretive. You still stayed in the loop with Batman and the rest of the crew. Often you walk the streets dressed in dark clothes and eavesdrop on criminals. Most of the time you find a nice spot to sit. Listen. When you listen you hear plans. Hear information on criminal activity. Your second job was slipping information to the vigilantes.

Standing on the rooftop the night sky was cloudy tonight as usual. The air smelled of rain to come. Rain would feel nice on a night like this. “Hey little birdie.” The sudden sound of Nightwing’s voice scared a small yelp out of you before you punched him in the shoulder. “Don’t scare me like that Dick!” He just laughed, “Ow, you didn’t have to hit me.” Sick rubbed his shoulder with a smile. Dick changed as he grew older and more mature. He grew up becoming a Boy Scout. A happy go lucky kind of guy. Sometimes it was nice and refreshing. Even better, sometimes his attitude was infectious in the moment. Let g out a small laugh and your body relaxes. “So, got any info for me little birdie?” He asked, leaning on the roof railing. “Yea actually, heard about some possible two-face activity. Harley Quinn may be coming back. Her heavy mourning stage is over….” The words catch in your throat. “Joker's death.” The name left a foul taste in your mouth. “I think she’s going to make a comeback.” You say quietly. Dick nodded “Okay, got any specific information on the Two-face activity?” He inquired. “Bank heists in old Gotham. Other than those two it’s been quiet. The bad kind that makes your stomach twist.” You explained finally leaning against the railing as well. “Thanks for the info.” He paused “How are you (y/n)?” The question threw you off. “Huh?” Was all you said as your eyebrows knit together. Dick frowned “well, I just know that…” Dick but his lip trying to find a way to word it. Even though you knew exactly what was coming. “His death anniversary is tomorrow.”

The words made your body feel heavy all of the sudden. Science says that women have heart strings. Those heart strings can break when really hurt. Could lead to early death even from not properly being able to pump blood. You know for a fact the day he died one heartstring broke, but every year when his anniversary comes back around it feels like another heart string begins to break. Hurts but doesn’t break. “I…” you start your sentence if you couldn't finish it before the tears start slipping down your cheeks. Dick pulled you to him so fast and wrapped his arms around you tight. “It will get easier.” Dick cooed. “I know.” You reply. You say those words but you didn’t honestly believe them. Not now anyway.

Eventually he let go and smiled at you to which you retired the smile. “Well, thanks for the information. You’ve always been a good help. Just as he wasn’t about to leave he turned back to face you on his heel. “And little birdie, tomorrow's Halloween, please, please, please, stay inside. Tonight and tomorrow night are some of the most dangerous nights of the year. When you go home stay safe, don’t be out tonight. Okay?” Before you could speak a loud screeching sound echoed throughout the whole city. All the screens began showing a scene, Paula’s dinner. I adore people screaming and tearing each other apart. A real blood bath, a scary sight to see. Even gunshots echo through the scene. “What is this? What’s happening?” You asked Dick. “I don’t know, I’m calling B.” As Dick walked off and began talking to Batman there screens all changed to a familiar face. “Scarecrow….” You breathe. He began to speak, his voice refined and calm. “This demonstration used just 5 ounces of my latest toxin.” That was only 5 ounces used? That small amount just caused over ten deaths. You picked up on the conversation Dick was having. “Only one survivor? What are we doing? What’s the plan B?” The scarecrow spoke once more. “Tomorrow, this will seem like child’s play.” That made your heart sink to your feet. “Gotham, this is your only warning.” Was the last thing scarecrow said before the recording cut out and played again. You look over at Nightwing who was off the call with Batman. “Dick?” He approached you, true uncertainty in his eyes.

“They are evacuating the city.”

Close up of scarecrow

[statisticallymorelikely]

00Q au edit for @ironpe: pre-MI6 relationship

AU where Q and James had a relationship before James was recruited to MI6. After a hasty recruitment, James disappears suddenly, ordered not to contact anyone from his past life, including his lover, the man who would become Q. He's pronounced dead from a botched Naval mission that never happened, and Q goes on to search for him tirelessly for years. Until, one day, they finally meet again, as agent and quartermaster.

---

After one particularly close call, James decides enough is enough. If he can die at any moment, he'd rather do it without any more regrets adding to the pile. So when he goes to return his equipment, he ignores R completely, marches into Q's office and stands right there, locking the door behind him.

Q's mouth opens, but James beats him to it. "I'm not leaving."

"007," Q sighs. "Unless the world is actively imploding, I have nothing to say to you. Kindly return your equipment to your designated handler."

"Alright, Q, you don't need to talk. I only need you to listen to me."

Q stands up, arms folded. Though his demeanor seems guarded, James notes the excessive blinking and the clench in his jaw. "I don't want to listen to any of your excuses, 007."

"No excuses, Q. I'm here to apologize." James lets out a rumbling breath. He can practically hear the grief and regret rattling in his bones, he's tired. "I shouldn't have left like I did. I've broken rules before, could've easily snuck away to contact you. Truth is, by the time I could, I had so much blood on my hands, I couldn't risk staining you. Every day since I've hated myself for hurting you. I'm sorry."

The moments stretch out between them silently, until it's suffocating. When Q finally does break the silence, it's with a whisper. "I thought you died. I've committed treason several times over, hacking into government records just to find you. I didn't want to accept you were dead."

Q looks up at him for the first time, eyes wet. "I grieved you, James, and to find out that you've been alive this whole time--"

James moves closer, but Q holds his hand up to keep him at bay.

"-- and not only that, but to find out you've moved on." Q swallows thickly. "I know about Vesper, James. Do you know what it says in your file?"

He does.

"You almost retired for her. So I suppose I never mattered enough for you to give all this up."

James sighs, defeated. "What can I do to earn back your trust?"

"I don't know if you can." Q hugs himself tightly. "And if you could, this is not the way to do it. You can't just barge in here and ask for things to go back the way they were! This isn't something you can fix with an apology!"

"I know that. I'm not trying for a quick fix, Q, I'm in this for the long run. Whatever it takes, however long it takes, I want to earn your forgiveness, please."

The last word softens Q, the fight dissipating from his posture. "I'll think about it. For now, put what's left of your kit on the table and fuck off."

James nods once, taking the small leather case from his suit pocket and placing it on the desk. "Thank you, Q."

With that, he leaves.

Q opens the case to reveal a gun, radio and electronic lock pick, all fully intact. Despite his better judgment, his battered heart skips a beat.

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

the world (it burns through me)

Chapter 5

Ao3 | 3.7k Words | Darlin's POV

Dr. McDreamy is on the case. X-rays, bone fragments, and late night confessions.

TW: Medical jargon, discussion of broken bones, trauma, and abuse, Alexis Solaire (just ya know... general warning for her)

It had been two weeks since you’d made your prodigal return to the 10-19, and in that time, you’d managed to avoid having any conversation that delved past surface platitudes and small talk with David. You weren’t sure if you’d consider your conversation in the office to be an argument, but that’s what it felt like. You thought about apologizing. But then, you didn’t really think you were wrong. 

David drove you to the firehouse every day. You hung around the house while he was on shift, napped across the bunkroom and lounge, ate the seemingly endless snacks that spawned in the kitchen every day. He drove you back to his place at night. You chatted with his spouse while he cooked dinner. You watched reruns of Grey’s Anatomy and The X-Files in the living room late into the morning hours, too restless to sleep. You could see the front door from your spot on the leather sectional. You guarded the two of them while they slept. 

You bothered Sam, mostly to avoid talking to the rest of the fire crew. Asher followed you around when he wasn’t on a call, his pathetic puppy dog eyes wide and terribly effective. Milo had attempted to talk to you a few times. He would call out to you, the familiar cadence of bickering and teasing coloring his tone as he shouted down fleeting hallways; “Tanker!” Even after so many years of living in Dahlia, his heavy, North Eastern accent hadn’t settled into the more neutral, South Western tones of those around you. You supposed that you couldn’t shake Washington out of your mouth, even after being here for over a decade. 

You were faster than him, always had been, and you escaped into the relative safety of the ambulance bay. Neither of them followed you there, in Sam’s domain, where they couldn’t trap you in the context of your past with them. 

Sam was a fresh start. Sam and Vincent and their nervous probie didn’t know you, didn’t know how reckless and stupid and stubborn you were. You didn’t have to sit with the heaviness of it all, with the betrayal you’d levied against them, the abandonment. 

David needed you. They all did. And you’d left. They hated you. They had to hate you. 

Eventually, Dr. Collins (and he was a doctor, his gossiping little probie ratted him out) convinced you to accompany him to an off-the record appointment at Dahlia General late at night. 

“Your name won’t end up on any paperwork.” He assured, huddled in the back of the ambulance as he ran paperwork between calls. He looked so fucking good in his uniform shirt. Navy and fitted, the short sleeves curled around his biceps as tight as skin. You wanted him to lock his arm around your throat and squeeze. 

There was something wrong with you. 

“I don’t have any money.” You said.

“That don’t matter.” Sam shook his head, that little crease deepening in his brow. Perpetual worry. Continuous stress. Your finger twitched to reach across the miniscule space between you, him crouched over his clipboard on the ride-along bench, you sat criss-cross on the gurney he’d just disinfected. You wanted to ease the tension from the lines on his face, spread your grubby fingers across his skin until it went slack. “Officially, we’re providing medical treatment to no one, so there’s no one to charge for it.” 

“Clever thing.” You grinned. Sam didn’t strike you as the sort of man who blushed, but if he did,  you imagined it would look something like this. His head ducked, his mouth quirked into something resembling a smile. You could spend a lot of time chasing that expression on his face. 

 David didn’t ask questions as you walked to Sam’s truck instead of his that night. They must have conspired about this. Petulant frustration bubbled in your gut. You swallowed around complaints, huddled into Sam and didn’t meet David’s eyes as he called out the same thing he did every time someone he cared about got into a vehicle he wasn’t driving:

“Be careful.” 

Sam’s truck was smaller than David’s and older too. You ran your fingers across the leather seats and dashboard, shifting to better accommodate your still-sore ribs. He huffed as he plopped himself down into the driver’s seat. His keys jingled with the tremor of his right hand. You’d been watching Sam’s hands for two weeks now, too weak to watch his eyes for more than a few seconds at a time. You could map that shake like a stretch of familiar road, curving and rough and so known to you you didn’t have to think as you drove it. 

Dahlia General was a big hospital. It was Dahlia’s only Level One trauma center, so it was where the 10-19 dropped off most of its critically injured patients. You’d crossed the threshold of the ER countless times since you were a probie, often for yourself. You had the record for the most on-the-job injuries in the house’s history. Gabe had a plaque made and everything.  

Sam didn’t pull into the ER bay, but instead into a covered parking garage that led to an employee entrance. He leaned over you to pull out a red decal that he hung from the rear view mirror. His name was inscribed in white text across the surface; Dr. Samuel Collins. 

“Not a word.” He hissed as your mouth started to fit around a smart comment. You pressed your teeth into your tongue as he cut the engine. 

You passed a series of locker rooms with a handful of exhausted looking doctors in green scrubs and rumpled white coats. They seemed not to see you, but a few of them stopped their hurried paths to shout a greeting to Sam. Some of them called him by name. Some, the younger, nervous-looking ones, scurried past him without making eye contact. If they did address him, it was always with his title instead of his name. Sam’s face darkened each time, slipping into a waxy, distant mask. 

Sam dismissed the x-ray tech handily. He had no white coat, no badge with his name, no credentials, but everybody still treated him like a doctor. He stepped into the darkened room, took a deep breath, and turned to you. His face was blank and slack. 

“Right.” He nodded. “Hands and ribs.” 

Sam ran the x-ray like it was the most familiar thing in the world to him. He laid out your hands, palm down, marked them left and right, laid a heavy, protective apron over your chest before stepping behind a wall and running the machine. He had you stretch out on a cold, metal table and took images of your ribs. He led you from the x-ray room down a secluded hallway to a small exam room, the lights still off. 

“You’re a doctor.” You said into the pin-drop quiet between you. Sam sighed out through his nose. 

“That I am.” He replied. 

“If I were a doctor,” you cocked your head to the side, let the unnatural curl of your top lip pull your mouth into a vicious sort of smile, “I wouldn’t take the pay cut to be a paramedic captain.” 

“Yeah well…” Sam’s face darkened, the joke slipping past him and landing as an insult. You swallowed around the apology that beat at the back of your throat. “We aren't the same person.” 

There was a rap of knuckles against the door of your exam room. You jumped, a jolt of pain running up your ribcage and catching your breath. Sam’s bright eyes caught yours for a moment before he reached for the door handle. 

The prettiest man you’d ever seen in your life stepped through the darkened doorway, x-ray films in his thin, long hands. He was wearing the same sort of white coat that all of the interns and residents in the locker rooms were wearing, but his was stark and pressed and perfect. Underneath it he wore a set of maroon scrubs, separate, it seemed, from the rest of the hospital. His hair was so blonde it was nearly white, his skin pale and flawless, his gray eyes shining even in the darkness of your exam room. He smiled, his teeth straight and white and sharp. He extended one of those long hands to you, and his touch was cold as fuck when you met it. He looked nothing like Patrick Dempsey, but your mind supplied the moniker McDreamy anyway. 

“Hello, there,” he smirked, his voice tinged with a smarmy British accent. You flinched at the sound of it, your face curling in disgust. His eyes flicked across your features, but seemed to find no offense among them. “You must be-”

“Porter.” Sam warned from his spot in the corner. “Please, just tell ‘em what’s going on. No flirting.” Dr. McDreamy turned on the heel of his fancy shoes, held a hand up in the scout’s solute. 

“No flirting.” McDreamy repeated. “Now, if you don’t mind, Samuel, I have a patient to attend to. Don’t forget that I’m doing you a favor.” 

“Yeah,” Sam rolled his eyes and made for the door, “add it to my tab. Just come get me when y’all are done.” 

Some childish, stupid part of you wanted to ask him to stay. Part of you wanted to reach out, fold his hand in yours, and let this whole stupid appointment pass over you like water, knowing that Sam would take it all in for you. You tightened your shaking fists and swallowed down that need like bile. 

McDreamy set your x-rays in the light box and flicked it on. He studied them for a moment before casting his eyes over his shoulder to you. 

“You’re a friend of Sammy’s?” He asked. You snorted at the endearment. 

“I’m a firefighter.” You lied. Porter hummed and turned back to his images. 

“Your hands are fine,” Dr. McDreamy said after a moment, his canines glinting as he pointed out your intact knuckles, “just bruising. Your ribs…” he shook his head and clicked his tongue, one long finger trailing over the x-ray of your shattered bones before stepping towards you and lifting your shirt to examine the swelling. “You’ll need surgery.” You pressed your lips together and recoiled from his touch. 

“Nah.” You shook your head. 

McDreamy blinked up at you. You’d finally caught him off guard, thrown him off his rhythm. 

“The bone fragments-” you liked the way his posh accent curled around the word. You shivered at that particular thought. 

“I don’t care.” You managed to cross your arms. “I’ve survived plenty of bone fragments.” Dr. McDreamy held your eye for a moment longer before sighing and nodding. 

“Sam will have wandered off by now. He can’t help himself.” He made for the door, collecting your images and handing them over as he did. You folded them until you could stuff them into your back pocket. McDreamy cringed at the sight. 

He led you through the near abandoned halls of Dahlia Gen. You’d always thought that this place would have stayed as bright and loud and alive at night as it did during the day. At least, that’s what the ER was like. The emergency room was like a living creature, teeming with movement and noise. Marie Greer was the charge nurse down there, and she ran most night shifts with an iron fist. Every time you’d ended up in her care, she’d reamed you out within an inch of your life only to bring you back again with her excellent medical skills. You wondered if she was down there tonight, running her ER like a conductor before an orchestra. You wondered what she would say if she saw you. If she would be the one who could convince you to lay down, get treated, get surgery, get better. 

You wouldn’t risk it. You’d slip out the back and hope she didn’t catch sight of you. 

“You know,” McDreamy said as he led you past a door with big bold letters stating NO ENTRY BEYOND THIS POINT, “pretty face like yours… I could work out that scar tissue faster than you can say ‘please.’” You stared up at him, that smug smile on his face. 

“Go fuck yourself.” 

Porter laughed. After a moment, you joined him, ribs be damned. 

You came upon a door that was marked GALLERY. Porter swiped his keycard and opened it, poking his head in before leaning back and motioning you in. 

Sam was sat in what looked to be a stiff, uncomfortable chair, alone in a gallery space facing a glass panel. His back was bent, elbows on his knees, his posture that of intense focus. You chanced a glance down and caught sight of a vast, brightly lit operating room. A sea of doctors and nurses were moving around a patient on a table like ants. Movements were synched and smooth, flowing between each other as naturally as breathing. Standing over the patient’s left side, at the epicenter of all of the movement, was a woman draped in surgical gowns and gloves. You could see fire red curls escaping the bun and scrub cap at the base of her neck. Her face was pinched in concentration, her hands, painted red, were tying knot after every knot into the flesh of the patient’s still-beating heart. Sam’s shaking hands tried in vain to copy her movements.

“Christ,” you breathed. Sam jolted and looked up at you. His face was strange and open in a way you hadn’t seen before. Something like grief was clear across his features. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, sitting back in his chair, “that’s um…” he swallowed, “that’s Alexis Solaire. She’s a cardiothoracic surgeon. She’s the best of the best.” 

“She’s not human.” Porter chimed from the doorway. “But then, are any of us?”

Sam stood, shook out his shaking hand, and turned away from the OR. As he did, Alexis Solaire looked up from her work very suddenly. It was like she had known Sam was watching, and she knew now that he had turned away. Her work faltered for only a moment before those careful knots were continued. 

He was quiet as he walked you out, hands firmly in his pockets. He waved McDreamy off impatiently, too quiet and withdrawn now to bother with his flirting and teasing. Porter slipped away into the guts of the hospital as you and Sam slipped out of them, into the dingy, dark parking garage. 

Sam sat in the driver’s seat, both hands shaking, his face drawn and pale. He had history in that hospital. He had people there. And it was too much for him. 

“Gimme your keys,” you said. Sam’s eyes snapped to you. 

“What?” He asked softly. 

“You look like you’re gonna pass out.” You smiled. “Let me drive.” He hesitated for a moment, only a moment, before relenting. 

Halfway through the drive, your fancy new phone propped on your knee shining directions up at you through the dark, Sam’s voice rose through the silence in the passenger seat. 

“Your ex,” he said, “the one you’re afraid of-” 

“I’m not afraid of him.” You snapped. Sam was only quiet for a breath before continuing. 

“Did he do this to you?” 

It was the question that had been hanging over you for two weeks, since you’d given Sam just a glimpse of Quinn in that ambulance. You wouldn’t be surprised if Sam had told David. That’s why you couldn’t bear to talk to him about anything serious, why you couldn’t let Milo and Asher chase you down and pull the answer out of you. It felt as though everybody was staring you down all of the time, that question sitting in the back of their throats, beating at their teeth to jump out at you. 

You gnashed your teeth against the instinct to snap at him, to tell him to fuck off, to remind him exactly how little he was entitled to when it came to your history.

But then again, he’d snuck you into a hospital, his hospital, got you looked at for nothing, got one of his fancy doctor friends to see you. You owed him. 

“No.” You gritted out. You flexed your hands on the wheel. You were speeding, just a bit, and purposefully slowed down. “He… it was some friends of his. One hook up and a guy she was seeing. I was… asking her some questions. She didn’t like that.” 

“What, you faced down two grown folks on your own?” Sam huffed. “No wonder you got your ass kicked.” 

“Hey, I walked away from that fight.” You grunted. “They did not.” Sam laughed, and then seemed to realize you were serious. 

“Lord have mercy,” he breathed, “you’re gonna give me an ulcer. You won?” 

“I did.” You grinned. 

“You’re good.” 

“I’m good.” 

Sam turned on the radio, flipping to a pre-saved channel that played shitty, rock-adjacent music that old men liked. He sang along to a few songs, off-key and rasping, his voice so unsure even though he knew the words. 

Sam’s house was deep in the woods just outside of Dahlia, surrounded by tall trees and overgrown grasses. It wasn’t big, but you knew it was expensive just by the look of it. Intentionally aged wood siding on a brick foundation, windows with curtains drawn. A wrap around porch with matching rocking chairs and a string of industrial looking lights. A coffee mug still sat on the wooden planks of the porch next to the plain welcome mat, empty and dark-rimmed. Sam bent to snag it as he passed, unlocking the door with his good hand. 

It was dark inside, still and cold. Sam flicked on a lamp beside the door. A sprawling living room emerged from the dark. A large, worn leather sectional filled up most of the space. Somebody else had decorated it. You couldn’t imagine Sam carefully matching the accents in the rug to the curtains. One wall was lined with floor to ceiling bookcases, stacked haphazardly with sterile-white medical texts. Knowing the costs of textbooks, that shelf alone must have cost more than the rest of the house combined. 

Your fancy new phone buzzed in your pocket. You snagged it out, hands still numb from the cold outside. David’s name lit up on the still-generic wallpaper. 

ETA??

You shot back a quick reply. 

My hand is fine. Ribs are broken, but fine. Crashing at Sam’s. Too late to drive. 

David wouldn’t argue with the ‘too tired to drive’ excuse. 

“Do you… um…” Sam was standing too close to you when you turned. You jumped, twinging your ribs as you did. You winced and stepped back, grasping at your side. “Shit,” Sam’s hands hovered over your shoulders, as though he wanted to steady you but he was afraid to touch, “I’m sorry, Darlin’. You okay?” 

“Yeah,” you replied instinctively, “I’m fine. Jumpy. Always… I’m always just a little jumpy.” 

Sam’s dark eyes flicked over your face. His full lips quirked up at the corners in that ghost of a smile you wanted to chase. 

“Do you want my bed?” 

“Nah,” you shook your head, “unless you’re joining. I won’t kick you out on the street.” 

“Nonsense.” Sam grinned outright, straight, sharp teeth. You wanted to run your tongue along them to see if they could cut. “It’s no trouble. And you’re injured. I’m not letting you bum it on the couch.” 

“Rich boy don’t have a guest room?” The anxious shake in your chest eased a bit as the banter broke out between you. Sam shook his head and stepped forward into your space again, his hands hovered over your shirt, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. Fuck, you were a sucker for brown eyes. 

“Can I?’ He asked. You nodded once. He lifted your shirt gingerly, his hands carefully avoiding actually touching your skin. He first assessed your stab wound, poking and prodding at the gauze before sliding one cold hand up, pressing painfully into your ribs. You gasped, grabbed his shoulder to steady yourself, and threaded your fingers into the fabric of his shirt. “I know, Darlin’, I know. Just lemme…” He ran his fingers along the line of your ribcage one more time before receding. His hand fell to your hip and held on, keeping you upright as you caught your breath. 

“How much longer are you gonna be doing that, exactly?” You gasped. 

“Well, seeing as you’re not getting surgery,” his tone betrayed his disapproval, “a while longer. I wanna make sure your chest wall maintains its integrity. One bone fragment in the wrong place can lead to a collapsed lung. I’m not lookin’ to pull you back from that particular precipice.” 

“Everybody’s so worried about my bone fragments.” You grinned. 

Sam produced an oversized t-shirt bearing the name of a medical college that you didn’t recognize and a pair of fleece pajama pants. He tried again, gentleman that he was, to put himself on the couch, but you wouldn’t have it. The two of you ended up on opposite sides of Sam’s insanely large bed. His blankets were plush and worn, well loved. Sam’s things were nice, nicer than you had expected from his appearance, but it was clear he used things about as far as he could. It was a habit you saw in yourself sometimes. You didn’t think you’d find it in some richy rich doctor with a giant house. 

Sam fell asleep quickly, his quiet puffs of breath evening out. You were so tired. You laid awake, watching out of the second story window as the trees moved in silent conversation. 

“His name is Quinn,” you whispered into the quiet of the room, “and I was in love with him. Was. Maybe I still am. He um… he was rough. But I like that. I thought I did.” You turned your head against Sam’s plush pillow. “He hurt me. Did… um… all of this shit to me.” Your fingers trailed over your face. “I gave as good as I got but… I am… I am scared of him. Really scared.” 

Silence filled the room in the wake of your rasping voice, nothing but the pounding of your heart and Sam’s quiet breaths to reply to you.

[quirklessidiot]

title: hell's favorite secretary [sneak peak] pairing : Devil!Ryomen Sukuna x F!Lost soul!reader [based on the webtoon 'the devil is a handsome man', DC Comics "Lucifer", and the book and video game 'Dante's inferno'] Genre: Alternate Universe-Hell, angst, mystery/thriller, mild horror, romance, slow burn, hell au, dark comedy, lost soul x devil au

Summary: The faceless man shrouded in mystery tends to be a subject of rumors and false pretenses, but you'd think otherwise when you accidentally caught sight of those grueling red eyes.

General warning for the story: graphic depictions of heavy gore (manslaughter, mayhem, and torture), and explicit sexual scenes, more will be added per chapter. this will be exclusively released in ao3 in december <3 Notes: after reading a couple of pages of dante's inferno, reading lucifer (the comic book), and the devil is a handsome man, it sort of struck my interest to write this story! this is a pretty long series and im actually so excitied to write this lol.

if you're a person heavily practicing the catholic faith, i won't recommend reading this series as this talks and leans on the devil (i'm not a satanist pls), he's not glorified here in anyways but I do recall people who lean heavily on the faith are not fond of reading any media depictions of the devil.

i hope you enjoy! rb's are always appreciated.

There are possibly hundreds of artworks about the devil. 

The most famous one is that snake hanging off the forbidden tree or, better yet, a half-animal and half-human. Others would be an ugly babe falling down from the heavens. The most popular modern one would be the one in red with horns on his head, yet your boss did not resemble any of those impressions. Instead, he wore a three-piece suit and had a hole right in the middle of his face.

Yes, you heard that right.

A hole. 

All you could see was an empty void of black nothingness. Nobara had said that Sukuna – yes, the devil went by that name — would never show his face to lost souls like you because, as an angel before, seeing him in his proper form would result in instantaneous combustion. 

Despite that good reason, talking to him was still disconcerting. The whole situation remained to be anomalous.

The ringing thoughts about your previous conversation with your workmate replay in your head like a broken record, your eyes trickling on the piles of paperwork across the window that revealed your boss leaning against the table with his usual outfit and pink tufts of hair neatly styled away.

You recalled meeting him for the first time and wondering why he seemed somewhat familiar. You had overtly eyed him up and down. Despite the hole in his face, he had caught on quickly and asked what exactly you were doing. Until now, you couldn’t understand the physics behind how he could even see you and talk.

You purse your lips in deep thought as lines form in the middle of your head. You don’t even feel your boss walking up to you on your desk, “Seems like someone’s head is up in the clouds this morning.” he points out.

You immediately sat up straight, your shoulders squared, “Sukuna, Sir…” you jumped, eyeing him somewhat warily. 

Despite how he made you feel, the devil was not exactly a strict boss. 

He’s rather lax and did not mind procrastination and passing your work at the last minute as long as you did it well. He works on proper hours, gives vacation and leaves, and an appropriate timetable for lunch breaks. 

He’s hard to hate for a being who's been blamed for man’s misfortune since time immemorial.

“Was the long weekend still not enough?”

“I’m not exactly a sloth, Sir,” you mumble to yourself, but he catches onto your words and remains unphased. It's uncharacteristic for you to say anything more to him, but you needed a good starter for this conversation to get on,  “...Although, I-uh…I do have a question…You remembered our contract, sir?”

One thing that humans were able to grasp correctly about hell and its king is the contract signing and how the devil gives out favors in exchange for something you truly hold dear. For you, since you’re a lost soul, in exchange for changing your status, you’d give proper work hours and help him capture at least eight hundred itinerants.

You’re running on two hundred and fifty so far.

“Oh?” he leans in closer, “That’s not something we talk about every day.” his body language remains fluid and guileless as if he wanted you to speak your mind more, and it only made your palms sweaty despite the coldness of the room, “Would you like to change some conditions? I am, after all, a fair man.” His voice is crisp and light, a charm that made up for his empty face.

“I- well, I’m going to be frank with you, Sir…” you blink, “I- um,” you start to stammer, and it only makes your stomach do different kinds of flips as your mind conjures up different types of worst-case scenarios. It’s not like you couldn’t become a soul after this, right? You’d only have to wait for a century and try to retain your sanity along with it.

He cocks his head to the side, and if you could paint a face on that void of nothingness, you’d wish it would be kind eyes looking down on you, but this was the devil, the man who was struck down from the heavens for being too ‘arrogant and malicious’. You need to be careful with your words, “I…I need information…” you swallowed, your words tumbling out clumsily.

“Information?” your boss remained relaxed, and you knew it was rather diabolic to even pray for God when you were literally in hell, but you had little to no way of reading him. There’s another round of stifling silence; you only want to melt into a puddle of goo this time.

[ninesbey0nd]

Sweet Venom | Heeseung

Fallen Angel! Heeseung x Reader | Oneshot

SYNOPSIS. Unbeknownst to you, one of your fellow classmates happens to be your guardian angel. He watches over you silently, as he is to never interfere with your life’s path. He was sent to protect you. Alas, Heeseung seems to have tabled his duties after your classmate Jay starts getting too close for comfort.

PAIRING. Fallen Angel Heeseung x Reader

GENRE. slight angst, possessive Heesung, strangers to friends to lovers

WARNINGS. Violence, Profanity, Implied/NSFW, Death, Religious Aspects (not really but)

WORD COUNT. 4.5k

if you wanna be added to my tag list lmk! :) <3

“I would give up heaven if I had to, just to get another taste of your sweet venom.”

"I really don't wanna go to this lecture," you whined, taking sloppy steps as your friend Gaeul pulled you behind her.

"We have an exam in this class soon! I don't wanna be responsible for helping you cram a day before." She shook her head, drawing her lips into a thin line.

The two of you hurried to your seats and set down your belongings. The professor hadn't arrived yet, so you both had time to take a breather.

"I hate this fucking class." you groaned, slumping back into your chair while holding your head in your hands. Gaeul nods in agreement, "Literally no one cares about statistics, but we need this class to graduate."

You exchanged a blunt look with Gaeul. She was right, but that didn't make you want to be here any more than you already did. As the professor made his way toward the front of the classroom, you noted a presence settling beside you.

"Oh! Hey Jay." Gaeul gave him a little smile, waving her hand in his direction.

“Ready to be bored to death for an hour?” Jay snickers, elbowing you softly. The class began and the three of you did your best to at least try to understand the professor. He might as well have been a broken record from how much information he repeated, you weren’t complaining though. Less to study, less to remember. The clock hit 11:00 and the students arose from their seats. You stretched out your arms above you, a small yawn escaping through your lips.

“Lunch?” Gaeul pointed toward you and Jay, motioning in the direction of the dining hall.

“Down,” You replied, settling your backpack strap onto your shoulder. Jay nodded along, following after you and Gaeul. 

Most of the students had cleared the lecture hall at this point, however, Heeseung remained seated. His eyes trailed toward where you exited, and he let out a long sigh. His duty was quite simple. As your guardian angel, he must protect you. Granted, he cannot save you from the petty day-to-day interactions however, he does his best to try and steer you away from trouble. He’s already been reprimanded for interjecting himself a little too much in your life, but Heeseung ignored his superiors' comments. He had not broken the golden rule of all guardians: You shall not directly place yourself into your human’s life. Heeseung would never be able to talk to you, sit next to you, interact with you, or anything. He was bitter. As much as he loved being your angel, he wanted to be more to you. He had such a burning passion for you, and he doubted anyone else could match his efforts. You were perfect, in his eyes. 

Heeseung decided to get up, trudging toward your dining area. His expression was anything but pleased. He couldn’t stand sitting afar, watching as you and Jay shared a conversation. Even from a distance, he could still see how your eyes twinkled with playful mischief. How you smiled so brightly, full of pure joy. The way the corners of your lips would curve upward before you laughed at something Gaeul said. 

This was his life. Doomed to watch over you for the rest of his life, without being able to admire you for himself. He hated it. He hated to admit that he was jealous of some worthless human. A long sigh escaped his lungs as his fingers scrunched his hair into a messy fistful. He shook his head, eliminating these thoughts from his mind. He shouldn’t be thinking about this. He shouldn’t be thinking about you. He was your angel, and that was all he would ever be to you. 

The day went on and you attended the rest of your usual classes. Luckily, a professor had cancelled your afternoon class due to roadwork. You silently pumped your fist beside you, thanking the universe that you could leave early. 

Heeseung eyes crinkled into tiny crescents and chuckled to himself, you were just too cute. 

You snacked on some food you brought on your way to the dorms, humming to yourself. Fortunately for you, your campus was on the smaller side. The walk was manageable, and you honestly enjoyed it. It was nice to get a breath of fresh air after being holed up in classrooms for hours. 

You made it to the main campus crosswalk, impatiently waiting for the traffic light to change. When it finally did, you began to briskly walk. You just wanted to be in your bed doing nothing. You were halfway across the road when a car comes racing down the street. The putrid smell of gas floods your senses before you can even think to move. 

I’m gonna fucking die. 

It almost felt like slow motion. You saw the car coming toward you and yet, you couldn’t find strength in your legs to move. Even if you had attempted to dodge, you were simply not fast enough to compete with a speeding vehicle. Your eyes screwed shut, turning your back to the car as if to shield you from the damage it would inflict. When the car had passed and the roaring engine died down, you hesitantly opened your eyes. You were across the crosswalk, untouched. Safe. You stood there for a second, taking in your environment. This was impossible. You definitely did not imagine that car, nor did you believe you made it across the crosswalk in time. 

“Are you okay? That was close," a voice questioned. You lifted your gaze up to meet the boy standing before you. He had fluffy blonde hair that framed his features. His gaze was soft, and a warmth seemed to radiate off of him. He looks like he walked out of a magazine, he’s gorgeous. You stop yourself from gawking and straighten your posture. 

“Hi,” you looked him up and down. Where had he come from? “Uh, yeah I think I’m alright?” You pat down your clothes, as if checking to see that you’re in one piece. 

“If you hadn’t ran last second that car would have seriously hit you! Watch where you’re going,” he scolded with a light and airy tone. 

“I thought–” You paused. You definitely were not even close to the other side of the road, let alone outrun that car. “I’m sorry for worrying you,” you bowed your head awkwardly. “I don’t recognize you, what’s your name?” 

He can’t help but feel a little giddy inside. Had he broken the rule that he swore to never break? Yes. Did he care? Not at all. His lips quirked up into a little smirk. “Heeseung. You’re (Y/N) right?”

Your eyes widened suspiciously. “How do you know my name?” Your brows knit together, looking at the boy with a stern gaze. 

“We have a class together I’m pretty sure. I sit in the back so it makes sense why you wouldn’t have seen me around.” He explained.

“Ah, I guess you’re right.” You nodded, checking your phone for the time. “Well, I should get back to my dorm. It was nice meeting you Heeseung! I’ll see you in class.” You waved at him before you trekked your way to the dorms. 

He returned your wave with a smile, hesitating to walk away to make sure you were alright. Heeseung was more worried about your well-being than the fact that he broke his oath to the Arch Angels. Surely they wouldn’t find out so quickly, right? There were millions of guardian angels occupying Earth with the same duties. He sucked in a breath, holding it in his lungs before exhaling. It was time to go ‘home’. He frowned, drawing what looked like a star in the air before vanishing.

“What were you thinking?” The Arch Angel gazed down upon Heeseung, her voice strained with concern. “You made an oath, Heeseung.” Another chimed in. Heeseung knelt before the Arch Council, his head hanging low. 

“I couldn’t watch them die. You have to understand–!” He cried out. 

“Silence.” The Arch Angels hushed the crowd. 

“Heeseung,” she began. “You broke your oath to us, your brothers, and your assigned heavenly duties.” She paused, a look of disappointment flashing across her soft features. 

“Come forward.” She gestured Heeseung to stand and come forth.

He stood from his knees, his hands folded in front of him. 

“You will not return here. Ever” She declared. “You are to be stripped of your angelic features and sent to earth as a mortal.”

Heeseung nearly choked on air. “What do you mean–?” 

She silenced him again, beginning to make her way down to where he stood. When she arrived, Heeseung was trembling. What was she going to do? She came face to face with Heeseung, pressing her thumb to his forehead. A searing pain ripped through his body and he nearly doubled over. He felt like his soul was being torn away from him. 

“I’m sorry, Heeseung.” She embraced the quivering boy who now gargled sounds of pain. He had never felt physical pain before. Her hands made their way to his back, running down his shoulder blades before his face contorted in agony. She was stripping him of his wings. He couldn’t begin to process the burning sensation that erupted from his back. He couldn’t even speak. He dropped to his knees, barely catching himself with his hands. He couldn’t breathe. His entire body was trembling and burning. Is this really just punishment for offending the oath?

The Arch Angel stepped back from Heeseung. “Goodbye, Heeseung.”

Heeseung awoke in a daze. He couldn’t move. He didn’t know where he was. He was mutilated. He shut his eyes, rallying the strength to pull himself up and off the ground. His head was throbbing, not to mention his arms that were going numb from the pain. He appeared to be in some sort of school building. Doors lined the hallway with various name tags and decorations. What was this place? He stumbled around, doing his best to act as normal as he could. He wandered around until discovering a room with his name on it. He paused. After abusing him in heaven they were ‘gracious’ enough to give him someplace to stay? He scoffed to himself, rolling his eyes before he gripped the door handle and slowly swung it open. It was very bare, but he wasn’t complaining. Better than being left on the streets. He sprawled out onto the twin sized bed, sucking in a sharp breath. 

“Fuck.” His eyes fluttered shut in frustration. He would explore his surroundings later. For now, he opted to lay on the dingy little mattress. Anything to slightly relieve him of the pain he had endured. Resting his body, Heesung drifted off into a slumber. Tomorrow, he hoped it would be better. He silently wished that this was some sort of sick prank his superiors were playing on him. To get him to abide by the rules. Despite knowing in the back of his mind that it was not the case, he entertained the thought. 

The sun dripped over his features, a gentle reminder that the next day had come. He pulled himself up, wincing slightly but felt his arms regaining some of their strength. He only had one pair of clothes, and near zero essentials that humans typically have. He sighed. He had a bank account on earth just because, however, he never thought he’d actually have to use it. Money was a funny concept to him. He had never had to exchange paper for an item. He found it odd. Regardless, he gathered up his things and set out to explore.

It was a surprise to him when he exited the building to find himself on your campus. He was back here? He knit his brows together in confusion, then suddenly he was elated. He was on your campus. He didn’t have to abide by those stupid rules set for him. He could talk to you freely without consequence! He felt a sense of excitement rise in his chest. He had to find you somehow. He knew where your classes were, so maybe he could catch you in an afternoon class you had. He silently prayed he would get an opportunity to talk with you today.

The afternoon rolled around and you had just sat down at your afternoon lecture. You haphazardly yanked the notebook out from your back and smacked it onto your desk. This week had been too long. You needed this class to be over and done with. The door handle twists and a familiar face appears. 

His eyes meet yours and he shoots you a grin, “mind if I sit with you?”

“Yeah that's fine with me,” you nodded your head, scooting over so that Heeseung would have a comfortable amount of space. “So this is the class where you sit all the way in the back, hmm?” You quirked an eyebrow toward the boy.

“Ah, yeah. I sat in the back row.” Heeseung sheepishly admitted, running a hand through his hair. 

“Well, at least now we can sit together!” You beamed.

“Cute,” Heeseung whispers under his breath, his lips curling into a smile at your sentiment. “You better watch out and hope I don’t distract you during lecture,” he nudged her elbow.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t mind. This class bores me to death anyways.” You stretched your arms out in front of you, folding them into a pretzel and resting your head on them. “At least this is the last class for the day, or, at least for me.” You chirped. 

Heeseung nodded. “Do you have any plans after class?” He wrung his hands together under the desk, praying you didn’t have any obligations.

“Yeah I do! I’m going to a really cute cafe with my friends Gaeul and Jay. Do you know them?”

Heeseung held himself back from cringing at the mention of Jay’s name. He shook his head, “No I don’t think I recognize those names, are they our year?”

You nodded, pulling out your phone to bring up the many pictures you had of the three of you. “I think you’d get along with them, they’re super fun and sweet. Actually, did you wanna come with us?” You looked at him expectantly.

Heeseung never said yes faster in his life. He coughed, catching his breath calming himself to avoid future embarrassment. “Yeah, I’d love to,” he grinned, meeting your gaze with a look of giddiness. 

“Yay I’m glad! I’ll let them know you’re coming,” you began tapping on your phone, opening the group chat you had with Gaeul and Jay. 

(Y/N): Hey!! I invited my friend Heeseung to come with us today after class, is that alright with you guys?? He doesn’t seem to have a lot of friends and I think you guys would really like him :)

Gaeul <;3: Yes omg!!! Please bring him we need more energy in this group,,

Jay: What’s that supposed to mean… 

Gaeul <;3: Anyways, I’ll see you both later ! <3

Jay: Okay,, ╥ ╥

(Y/N): Love you both, see ya <3 !!

You slid your phone back into your pocket, looking back at Heeseung. “Ah, lecture’s gonna start now,” you pouted, fixing you’re posture and opening your notebook.

“At least we have something to look forward to after class,” Heeseung reminded you, which seemed to lift your spirits. The lecture went on as normal, the professor talking for a straight hour of bullshit. You really couldn’t comprehend how he managed to waste an hour of your day every time this class was scheduled. The time eventually hit where students began to prematurely pack their bags and put away their things so they could bolt out of this godforsaken room. You couldn’t blame them, you were the same.

“Heeseung,” you loosely grabbed his sleeve. It took Heesung by surprise, he flinched before his eyes landed on your hand. 

“Uh. yeah what’s up?” He smiled, trying to suppress the large grin his face threatened to display. 

“We’re gonna meet Gaeul and Jay at the main parking lot, lets walk together!”

The two of you walked side by side across the campus. He learned a bit more about you, granted, he saw you everyday of his life. You just didn’t know he existed until a day ago. He didn’t mind though. Being able to talk to you was more than enough to satisfy him.

“(Y/N)!” You heard Gaeul yell, her body jumping up and down while she waved her arms in the air. You giggled to yourself, beginning to quicken your pace toward your friend. “You excited? I can’t wait to try all the yummy pastries!” Gaeul pumped her arms next to her, a fire blazing in her eyes. She had a very bubbly persona at school, but when it came to food she was so serious. There was nothing more she enjoyed than a good sweet treat. 

“Me too, I was looking at the menu earlier and I saw they have a lot of crepe flavors.” You licked your lips, imaging the sweet sugary dessert already.

“Alright alright, let’s get moving then shall we?” Jay interjected. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was really excited to try their cute drinks and little treats. Heeseung stood beside you, hands resting in his pockets. He really didn’t care about Gaeul or Jay. They didn’t concern him right now, at least. He tolerated them though, only because they were your friends.

Jay and Gaeul sat in the front while you and Heeseung sat next to one another in the back. The car ride was short, but the moments where your knees would accidentally touch made Heeseung crazy. He still couldn’t believe this was his reality. It was absolutely horrid that he was denounced as an angel, but he would give up heaven for you. 

The four of you sat down at a circular table in the center of the cafe. A white table cloth was neatly draped over the wooden platform and gold rimmed plates and saucers decorated the table. Even the silverware was painted with dainty gold detailing. 

Gaeul was absolutely going wild, taking pictures of literally anything and everything in this room. She was so in love. “If the place looks this good, I bet the food will be even better,” she squealed excitedly. 

“Don’t eat the whole cafe, Gaeul.” Jay jokingly nudged her, shooting her a smug look.

“Hey, don’t yuck my yum.” She huffed, crossing her arms and turning away from Jay.

You couldn’t help but laugh. Being with them always made you feel safe. The three of you always shared such a carefree attitude that made your school days go by much quicker. 

“So, what are you thinking about ordering?” You leaned over to see what Heeseung was investigating on the menu. 

“I don’t know, do you have any recommendations? I haven’t really had many of these desserts before.” He spoke sheepishly, reading down the list of pastries and confectioneries. 

“I really like crepes! I think they're sooo fluffy and sweet and–” You took in a breath, shutting your eyes. “They’re just so good you have to try them,” you placed your hand on Heeseungs. “Like, you have to try a crepe while we’re here.”

Heeseung grinned at your antics, he of course, ended up ordering a crepe like you suggested. The time at the cafe went well without a hitch. Although Heeseung didn’t really talk much, you sensed that he felt comfortable.

“Hey (Y/N), what kind of crepe did you get?” Jay tilted his head, eye-ing your dish from beside you. 

“Oh! I got the honey mixed nut banana one. It’s honestly better than I thought,” your fork poked your crepe softly. “Did you wanna try some?” You began slicing at a small portion of your dessert.

“I mean, if you don’t mind,” Jay looked to the side, a small smile painting his lips. 

“Yeah I don’t mind!” You beamed, setting the piece on Jay’s plate. 

“Can I try it too?” Heeseung leaned toward you, almost to the point where you could feel his breath fanning across your face. 

“A-ah yeah! Of course,” you shook your head to get yourself out of that trance. You were probably imagining things. 

When you cut off the crepe piece, you were about to set it on his plate when he tilted his head. He looked up at you expectantly, touching his lips to your fork. You flushed, he wanted you to feed it to him? It felt more intimate than it should have when his lips nibbled at the fork, cleaning the utensil of any stray crumbs. You watched his expression change into a euphoric expression.

“Wow, that is really good.” He looked back toward you, his tongue swiping any honey tidbits that stuck to his lips. His gaze lingered on yours just for a moment longer before he pulled away from you, straightening himself and returning to lounging in his chair. 

The entire time this scene is playing out Gaeul is watching Jay. He did not look pleased at all. She had a suspicion that Jay had liked you for some time, but this confirmed it for her. After all, what man would NOT be upset watching the girl feed another man. When she stole a glance toward Heeseung she could’ve swore he glared at Jay. Awkward. She knew they hadn’t met before, but the tension between them felt vicious already. Regardless, you didn’t seem to pick up on it so she opted to ignore her suspicions for now.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow!” You waved toward Gaeul and Jay. They lived in a different dorm complex than you, so you parted ways in the parking lot. 

“Can I walk you home?” Heeseung offered, it almost came out as a whisper. Was he nervous?

“Y-yeah thats fine,” you nodded your head vigorously, unsure of what to say next. 

The walk back to your dorm was quiet. Heeseung strode next to you comfortably. It wasn’t an awkward silence, but instead a mutually agreed upon atmosphere. The two of you would occasionally bump arms and mutter a string of apologies to one another before laughing. Despite not knowing Heesung for long, you could already tell you felt safe in his presence. It wasn’t something you could put into words, but whenever you were around him you just felt as if you were weightless. 

“Well, this is my dorm building,” you stopped in front of a long stone building. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” Heeseung smiled, his eyes twinkling. 

“Yeah for sure!” You nodded eagerly. You began to take a step back toward your dorm when you felt Heeseung loosely wrap his fingers around your forearm. Spinning around, you looked him up and down. Your heart was beating out of your chest, and you swore you could hear the blood rushing through your ears. 

“Sorry if I startled you,” Heeseung released his grasp and hugged his arm back to his own chest. “I was just wondering if I could get your number? So we can maybe exchange notes or hang out if you want?” He internally cringed, hoping he wasn’t coming off as weird.

“Yeah!” You almost exclaimed a bit too loudly. “Um, yeah here’s my phone if you want to put in your contact info,” you fished your device out from your pocket and handed it to Heeseung. The tips of your fingers tingled as his hand brushed against yours in that moment. After he was done inputting his info, he handed your phone back to you. 

You couldn’t help but grin when you saw he named his contact ‘Heeseungie <3’

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Heeseung smiled softly, lingering before walking further down the street. 

Today couldn’t have been better. His head replayed the moment in the cafe with you on loop. He could tell Jay was furious with his actions, but he didn’t care. He was just ahead of the game compared to Jay. He didn’t stand a chance. And even if he did, Heeseung wouldn’t let Jay get any further.

“Oh my god (Y/N), is that what I think it is?” Gaeul’s eyes widened to the size of saucers as she eyed the small purple blotch sitting on your collarbone.

“Gaeul!” You hissed playfully, pulling your shirt collar up to try and hide the mark. 

“No way…” She gaped at you. “(Y/N)? (Y/N) that has never even held hands with a man? Is this the real (Y/N)??” Gaeul kept asking questions, disbelief washed across her features.

“Okay Shh SHhh,” You shook Gaeul’s shoulders gently. Your lips curved into a sly smile before sucking in a deep breath. “Yes it is what you think it is,” the words spilled out of your mouth quickly.

“(Y/N) what the fuck! You didn’t tell me anything about this, I thought we were besties. Who was it?” Gaeul frowned dramatically, drawing a fake tear down her cheek. 

“I just– I wasn’t planning on anything happening! But then y’know it just,” you flailed your hands in the air. “Please don’t tell anyone,” you clasped your hands together. “I don’t want rumors to start or have people get the wrong idea about me,” you pleaded.

“Who would I tell? You know I don’t really talk to anyone else except you guys. So, who was it!” Gaeul stated, referring to the group.

“Okay okay fine it was–” you stammered.

“Morning Gaeul, (Y/N).” Jay appeared from the turn in the hall. You both turned your heads to acknowledge his appearance and greet him. 

“Hey Jay,” Gaeul shot him a sympathetic look, her lips tightening into a thin line. She had talked with Jay the night before about how he felt, and was actually planning on asking you out today; had it not been for the peculiar bruise on your chest. Your weight shifted uncomfortably from side to side. You had picked up that Jay wasn’t in the best mood, and looked between Gaeul and Jay. 

“You guys wanna do anything after class? We could grab dinner at that new restaurant down the street,” you proposed.

“Yeah! That sounds yum,” Gaeul excitedly clapped her hands together. Jay opened his mouth to respond but was quickly gagged when a pair of arms wrapped around your shoulders lazily. 

“Morning,” Heeseung pressed a kiss to your temple, settling his head atop your shoulder. “So, dinner tonight?”

“I’m good.” Jay remarked, hiking his backpack further up his shoulder. “Anyways, I’m gonna get to class early. Bye.” 

The three of you watched Jay walk off, disappearing into the halls. Meanwhile, Gaeul was stupified.

”Oh my god, (Y/N).” She punched you in the arm.

“What??” You laughed, wrapping your hands around Heeseung’s arms. 

“Ah, I guess I got you in trouble,” Heeseung looked to the side, a smirk toying with the edge of his lips. “Sorry baby,” he mumbled into the nape of your neck.

“Yeah yeah, whatever. You should be glad I’m not mad at you,” you lightly tapped him on the head.

He grinned, simply cuddling into you and savoring your scent. Although he hadn’t succeeded in the heavenly duties he was assigned, it no longer mattered to him. In his eyes, he would give up heaven for you anytime. Always.