#he said it made him want to settle down too

[goldfades]

hiiii idea popped in my head seeing joey on the phone but like imagine he’s away and trying to help y/n get kids to bed but it’s hard since he’s away 🥰😭 sorry i have to share the imaginings happening :-))))

no, baby i love when people share their cute little ideas!!! i hope you enjoy this one<3

The second Joe’s face popped up on FaceTime, Hayes let out a dramatic gasp—like he had just seen a celebrity in the wild.

"Dada!"

You winced as his little voice echoed through the house, far louder than necessary. "Hayes, baby, inside voice," you reminded him, but it didn’t matter. The damage was already done.

From down the hall, you heard the unmistakable wail of your youngest, jolted awake by his big brother’s sudden outburst. You closed your eyes for a brief second, sighing, already bracing for the next half hour of chaos.

Joe must have heard it, too, because his face twisted in sympathy. "That bad, huh?"

You turned your attention back to the phone, where Joe was sitting in his hotel room, half-smiling, half-wincing, freshly showered with wet curls sticking to his forehead.

"That bad," you confirmed, shifting Hayes further onto your hip. He had his tiny fingers fisted in your shirt, but his eyes were locked on the screen, grinning so big it made his dimples pop.

"Hi, buddy," Joe said, his voice warm and fond.

"Dada, when you coming home?" Hayes asked, tilting his head.

Joe’s face softened. "Couple more days, bud. But guess what? We have a game tomorrow. Are you gonna watch?"

Hayes nodded enthusiastically, kicking his legs in excitement. "I wear my jersey!"

"You better. Gotta match me, right?"

Hayes nodded again, his little hands now gripping the phone like he could somehow pull Joe through the screen.

It wasn’t the first time he had gone through this phase. As you liked to say, Hayes had his "favorites"—rotating obsessions that switched every few months. Sometimes it was dinosaurs, sometimes it was a specific pair of socks he refused to take off for days at a time, and sometimes, it was Joe.

This was one of those times.

For the past couple of weeks, everything had been about Joe. Hayes only wanted to watch football, only wanted to play "catch" in the backyard, only wanted to FaceTime his dad 24/7. If Joe was around, you were nothing—completely cast aside.

Which, really, you didn’t mind. Because the way Joe lit up every time Hayes showed even an ounce of excitement over football or his job in general—it was worth every second of being ignored.

What you did mind, however, was getting him to sleep without Joe here.

"Okay, buddy, we gotta say goodnight to Dada," you said, shifting Hayes in your arms.

"No!" Hayes protested immediately, curling his little fingers into fists. "Not yet!"

Joe chuckled. "C’mon, H, listen to Mama. You gotta go to bed."

Hayes pouted. "Don’t wanna."

"Yeah, well, I don’t wanna deal with a grumpy toddler tomorrow, so you kinda have to," you muttered under your breath, earning a soft laugh from Joe.

"How about this?" Joe offered. "I’ll stay on FaceTime while you get in bed, and I’ll tell you a story, okay?"

Hayes perked up immediately. "A story?"

"Yeah," Joe grinned. "But only if you’re in bed."

Hayes was already wiggling out of your grasp before Joe had even finished his sentence, making a beeline for his room. You sighed in relief, grabbing the monitor from the counter before following behind.

By the time you got to his room, he was already under the covers, clutching his stuffed tiger, eyes bright with anticipation.

"Alright, let’s hear it, Burrow," you said, settling into the rocking chair, phone still in hand.

Joe laughed, then launched into one of Hayes’ favorites—something about a football-playing dinosaur that you were pretty sure Joe had made up on the fly one night, but Hayes had loved it ever since.

It took a few minutes, but eventually, Hayes’ blinks got heavier, and his tiny body started relaxing into the mattress.

By the time Joe reached the end of the story, his voice had dropped to barely above a whisper, and Hayes was out.

"Thank God," you sighed, carefully tucking the blanket around your son before stepping out into the hallway.

Joe was smirking when you looked back at the screen. "See? Easy."

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, ‘easy’ because you get to do the fun part. Try dealing with the bath time tantrums before you get cocky."

Joe laughed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I miss you, though. And I miss Hayes."

Your heart clenched. "He misses you, too."

"I’ll be home soon, I promise."

"I know."

There was a beat of silence before he spoke again, voice softer now.

"You’re doing such a good job, you know that?"

You felt it—the warmth spreading through your chest, the way your shoulders relaxed at his words.

"Thank you," you murmured. "Now hurry up and win so you can get back home to your biggest fan."

Joe grinned. "I think that’s you."

You huffed out a laugh. "Not even close. That title officially belongs to your tiny clone."

Joe laughed, shaking his head. "Fine. But you’re a close second."

And somehow, that was enough.

--

Joe had barely stepped foot through the door before Hayes came barreling toward him, arms wide, cheeks flushed with excitement.

Joe barely had time to drop his bag before scooping him up. "There’s my boy!" he grinned, pressing a kiss to Hayes’ chubby cheek. "Missed you, bud."

"Missed you too," Hayes said, but before Joe could even savor the moment, Hayes was already wiggling out of his grasp.

Joe blinked in confusion as his son ran right past him and straight to Maisie, who was lounging on the couch, scrolling through her phone.

"AUNT MAISIE!" Hayes shouted, climbing into her lap like she was his long-lost hero.

Maisie barely looked up, smirking. "What’s up, little dude?"

Joe stood there, stunned. Mouth slightly open, arms still mid-air from where he had just been cast aside like a used toy.

You were trying so hard not to laugh.

Maisie shot Joe a cocky look, ruffling Hayes’ curls. "Told you. I’m officially the favorite now."

Joe scoffed. "That’s not possible."

You snorted. "Oh, it’s possible. It happened while you were gone. Apparently, Maisie’s the ‘cool’ one now."

Joe crossed his arms. "I thought I was the cool one."

Maisie let out a dramatic sigh, adjusting her sunglasses (which she was still wearing inside, for some reason). "You had a good run, but the people have spoken."

Joe turned to Hayes, genuinely confused. "Buddy, what about football? What about watching game film with me? What about—?"

"I like Aunt Maisie’s music better," Hayes cut in, matter-of-factly.

Joe looked genuinely offended. "What’s wrong with my music?"

Maisie let out a loud laugh. "Oh my God. You’ve been replaced by Taylor Swift and the Encanto soundtrack."

Joe’s face dropped. "That’s not fair. Encanto has bangers."

"You don’t even know the words to ‘We Don’t Talk About Bruno,’" you pointed out.

Joe gasped, pointing at you accusingly. "You’re enjoying this too much."

"Oh, absolutely," you grinned.

Joe groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. "Unbelievable. Gone for one week and I’m completely irrelevant."

Maisie patted his shoulder. "It happens to the best of us, man."

Joe sighed, finally giving in. "Fine. But just so you know, he’s gonna want to play football with me again in, like, two weeks."

Maisie smirked. "We’ll see."

And honestly? You weren’t so sure. Because the way Hayes was currently clinging to Maisie’s side, giggling at whatever TikTok she had just shown him?

Yeah. Joe was gonna have to work really hard to win back his title.

[meo-eiru]

Day 5 of Character Trivia Night!

For tonight we have Theo

Theo has a human mother and a cyclops father, though his dad isn't really in the picture as his mom doesn't like to settle down and instead jumps from monster bf to monster bf

Since there aren't any schools for monsters his mom always sent him to human schools, which meant Theo was always around people who did not look like him

His skin is a bit greenish but they usually explain it as a sickness and he always keeps his bangs long to hide his eye, thanks to not having much of a presence as well he was able to go under the radar most of the time

But there was one time in elementary school when he wanted to try playing with the other kids and ended up accidentally showing his eye. His mom quickly moved them to another city and enrolled him into a different school before the news outlets could get their hands on the situation, so by now it's more like a legend of their old town

The experience was quite traumatic for him so now he makes sure to never ever let his eye show in public

Some people who don't know him assumes he's a gamer but he's actually very bad at games

Has no depth perception and wears single lens glasses (glass...?) to make up for it, but they are a bit ugly so he only wears them at home

He actually doesn't have an eyebrow

Due to his quiet and nerdy appearance there are rumors about him being a gamer in class but he's actually really bad at games

That being said he's really into movies, anything sci-fi more specifically. Especially ones about aliens

Maybe because they are often depicted green, or maybe because the focus is on them not being human, but growing up Theo felt a lot of kinship with the aliens he was on the screen and they became a way for him to cope with his own life

He's mostly terrible at cooking but can make fire lasagnas because his mom likes it and it was the one meal she actually taught him

If left alone he would mostly stay alive eating chips and other snacks

He favorite color is green but if he had to choose a second favorite he would say dark purple

The first item of yours he stole borrowed, because of his overflowing love, was the pen you forgot on your desk

Soon he started collecting whatever item he could find of you. Erasers, pencils, napkins, used straws, clothes....

He also likes to take your pictures and hang them on his ceiling and walls, looking at your face as he falls asleep helps him see better dreams

He never intended to make a shrine of you but the items he stole from you and hid in his closet are starting to form the shape of a shrine and he might've added in some fake candle totally not because he wanted to make it more shrine light but because his closet just needed some more light

He's surprisingly good at drawing. He always enjoyed sketching colorful and quirky monster like creatures but lately his notebook has been filled with drawings he made of you. Weirdly enough, unlike everything else he draws, your drawings always look so clean and shiny like he's trying to draw his god

He also likes to write your name over and over again, it helps him calm down when he's too nervous or when his love for you is overflowing and he can't keep it under control

When writing can't cut it anymore he has to lock himself in a quiet bathroom and take care of the trouble under his pants. He wants to have something that belongs to you while doing it and usually even just a pen can do it but if he's lucky he can snatch your used gym clothes without you noticing.... and maybe take them home too if you don't pay attention... and try to spread your smell into his room as much as he can...

He always follows you home to stalk you make sure you're safe so he's familiar with its location and structure

One time he even tried going in thinking no one was home but just when he was walking towards the building he made eye contact with your mom and just ran back before she can say anything

His tear drops are really big, so when he cries it turns into quite a mess. That's why he does his best not to cry but unfortunately he's someone who can cry as easily as a newborn baby

One of his secret fantasies is you catching him while he's stalking you and humiliating him for it. Mostly because he can't think of any other reason for an amazing, incredible and holy person (one might say) like you to approach him

[celestemona]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘'𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐒

and you aren't around so they're in charge of their children.

pairing: dad & husband! alhaitham, kaveh, kaedehara kazuha, lyney, wriothesley x fem! reader

cw: original characters, domesticity, fluff. characters may look a bit ooc or not.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

ALHAITHAM

Hakim stirred restlessly beneath the blankets, his small face flushed with fever as his jade-green eyes slowly blinked open. A soft whimper escaped his lips, catching your attention, seated at the edge of his bed, pressing a damp cloth against his forehead.

“How are you feeling, my love?” you asked gently, brushing aside strands of his silver hair.

Hakim mumbled, burrowing deeper into the warmth of the covers. “It hurts, mummy... 'm hot…”

Before you could respond, the door creaked open, and your husband stepped inside, his usual impassive expression in place, though his gaze softened slightly at the sight of his son.

“I'll stay with him today,” Alhaitham said simply, crossing his arms.

You blinked. “Are you sure? Won't they miss you at work or—”

“It doesn’t matter,” his voice left no room for debate. “Hakim needs someone here, and you have an important meeting to attend.”

You hesitated but then sighed, gratitude shining in your eyes. “Thank you, dear.” You pressed a kiss to Hakim's temple before standing up. “I'll leave some potions and instructions in the kitchen. Make sure he drinks plenty of fluids.”

Alhaitham gave a small nod, already rolling up his sleeves. “Go. He's in good hands.”

“I know he is,” you smiled softly and left, casting one last glance at your son before slipping out the door.

The morning that followed was mostly spent with Alhaitham staying by Hakim’s side, ensuring his comfort. Carefully, he fed the boy warm herbal soup, patiently insisting that he take slow sips, even when Hakim scrunched up his face at the taste.

“It's bitter…” Hakim murmured, wrinkling his nose.

“It's medicine, not dessert,” Alhaitham replied flatly. “You need to take it to get better.”

With a small sigh, Hakim relented, leaning tiredly against his father as he took another reluctant sip.

When the fever made Hakim restless, Alhaitham prepared a lukewarm bath, carefully lowering his son into the water. His touch was firm but gentle as he washed away the sticky sweat clinging to the boy’s skin. Hakim whimpered when the cooler water trickled over his forehead, but Alhaitham ran a calming hand through his damp hair, murmuring, “I know, Kim. Just a little longer.” 

When Hakim was finally cleaned and dressed with a new and fresh pair of pajamas, the scribe carried him back to bed, tucking him snugly beneath the covers. The soft hum of the ceiling fan and the steady presence of his father seemed to soothe the little boy, allowing him to finally rest.

It didn't take too long for Alhaitham also notice Hakim’s fever began to subside as his breathing grew more even. Seizing the opportunity, Alhaitham went about tidying the house—washing the dishes, straightening the furniture, and even preparing a simple but nutritious meal for later.

Once everything was in order, he headed to Hakim’s bedroom again and checked his asleep form from the doorframe, humming in satisfaction at the relaxed sight in the boy's features. With everything running as good as it could possibly be, Alhaitham finally settled onto the couch back in the living room, a book in hand, savoring the rare silence.

But it didn’t last long.

A small, sleepy voice called across the hall. “Baba?”

Alhaitham closed his book, immediately standing and making his way to Hakim’s room. The boy was sitting up, his eyes drowsy but alert. Without a word, Alhaitham effortlessly scooped him up, carrying him back to the couch.

“I'm here,” he murmured as he sat down, cradling Hakim against his chest. The boy clung to him sleepily, nuzzling into his father’s warmth.

Alhaitham picked up his book again and opened it. “Want me to read to you?”

Hakim gave a small nod, and without changing his calm tone, Alhaitham began reading his current text—an academic study on the evolution of Teyvat language.

The words were dense and complex, but the steady rhythm of his father’s voice lulled Hakim into a peaceful state, his blinks growing slower and slower.

By the time Alhaitham reached the end of the chapter, Hakim was already fast asleep.

A rare, faint smile touched Alhaitham’s lips as he adjusted a blanket around his son, pressing a silent kiss to his silver hair.

The house remained quiet, but this time, it was a comforting kind of silence.

KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

The Kaedehara estate was unusually quiet that first night without you. 

Kazuha sat on the floor with Haruki nestled against his chest, his tiny fingers clutching at the fabric of his father’s haori. The little one had been fussier than usual, missing the warmth of his mother’s presence. Kazumi and Kiyomi sat on either side of him, their faces a mix of uncertainty and longing.

“Mama will be back soon, I promise,” Kazuha murmured, gently rubbing Haruki’s back. “But in the meantime, we must carry on and make the most of our days.”

Kiyomi leaned her head against Kazuha’s shoulder, letting out a little sigh. “I miss her…”

Kazumi, trying to be strong for his younger siblings, nodded but kept quiet. He wouldn’t admit how much he missed you too. Instead, he intertwined his fingers with Kiyomi’s, squeezing her hand.

That night, Kazuha tucked them all into bed with extra care. Haruki, after much rocking, finally drifted into a peaceful sleep. Kiyomi clutched one of your scarves as she dozed off, and Kazumi, despite his usual independence, asked if Kazuha would stay until he fell asleep. Kazuha did, running his fingers gently through his firstborn’s hair until his breathing evened out.

By the third day of your absence, though, the household had found a rhythm. Kazuha had planned small adventures to keep the children engaged. 

In the morning he’d reserve his time to help the older kids with their homework, his calm voice guiding them through difficult subjects. However, as soon as they got restless, he’d take all of them outside to the garden, where they played or trained together—Kiyomi, full of energy, attempting to mimic her father’s fluid sword techniques, and Kazumi practicing precise movements with quiet focus. Haruki, too small to participate, sat comfortably in his playpen, giggling at his siblings’ enthusiasm and having fun with his own toys as well.

Afternoons were filled with quieter moments, though.

Kazuha would prepare a meal, tying an apron around his waist as he balanced Haruki on his hip. Kiyomi eagerly assisted, though her true goal seemed to be sneaking tastes of the ingredients, while Kazumi helped set the table. After meals, Kazuha would help them to bathe and after everything was done, he'd gather everyone in the living room to read fairytale books to them—the soothing melody of his voice lulling Haruki into peaceful naps. Kiyomi would often lean against him, eyes closed, enjoying the warmth coming from her father's body, while Kazumi listened intently, his expression relaxed.

As the last afternoon before your return arrived, Kazuha gathered the children. “What’d you guys like to do today?”

“Street market!” Kiyomi and Kazumi chorused in excitement and Haruki clapped, almost like in agreement.

And so, the four of them ventured into town.

The marketplace was bustling with life—vendors calling out their wares, the scent of freshly grilled skewers wafting through the air, and colorful lanterns swaying overhead. Kazuha carried Haruki in one arm while holding Kiyomi’s hand in the other, with Kazumi walking confidently beside him.

“Ooh! Dango! Can we have one, please, 'tōchan?” Kiyomi blinked cutely.

Kazuha chuckled but agreed, purchasing a few sticks, ensuring Haruki had a small, soft piece to nibble on as well. 

They then stopped by a goldfish-scooping stall, where Kiyomi leaned forward with intense focus, trying to catch a golden fish.

“Careful now, Kiki,” Kazumi teased. “You don’t want to break the paper too fast.”

“I know what I’m doing!” the little girl huffed, her tongue sticking out slightly in determination. With careful precision, she managed to scoop up a small, wriggling fish, beaming proudly.

Kazumi gave it a try too, and while he had an air of confidence, his first scoop tore almost instantly. “Eh?” He blinked in surprise before laughing. Kazuha smiled beside him. 

“Even the steady hand of a swordsman can falter.”

With the sun beginning to set, they picked up some sweet pastries to bring home, a treat to celebrate the end of their eventful week.

Back to the estate, as the children helped set the table for dinner, Kazumi and Kiyomi whispered excitedly about their surprise at your return. Kiyomi arranged a bouquet of wildflowers they had gathered earlier, while Kazumi wrote a small welcome-home poem on a slip of parchment.

“I’ll make it extra pretty so mama loves it!” she declared proudly.

Haruki, too young to contribute much, remained in Kazuha’s arms, drowsily sucking on his pacifier. Kazuha smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to each of his children's heads. “I think she’ll be very happy to see all of you.”

And as the evening settled, Kazuha couldn’t help but feel a deep warmth in his heart. Even in your absence, your family had flourished, finding joy in each other’s company. Soon, you’d return, and your home would feel complete once more. But for now, he cherished the quiet laughter of his children, the scent of fresh flowers, and the anticipation of a joyful reunion.

KAVEH

Kaveh heaved a deep sigh as he stepped into his home, rolling his sore shoulders and rubbing his temple. The day had been grueling—endless site inspections, client complaints, and the ever-looming threat of deadlines.

The first thing that welcomed him was the scent of roses and something faintly herbal drifted through the air, drawing his attention toward the living room. And just in there you stood—giving the makeup a last touch-up with your hair pinned up with golden accessories, and a white qipao embracing your curves.

He nearly forgot his exhaustion.

“You look stunning, azizam,” he murmured, lips curving into a tired but genuine smile.

You turned at his voice, brows immediately furrowing in concern. “And you look exhausted, Kaveh. My goodness! It is starting to make me reconsider if I should go. I can stay—”

“No, no, absolutely not,” Kaveh waved a hand, marching forward to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “You deserve this night out. I can handle Zahra.”

“She can be a handful.”

“She is my handful, and I adore it,” he said, puffing his chest despite the clear fatigue in his voice. “Besides, I have a foolproof plan: playtime, dinner, bath, story time, sleep. Easy.”

You hummed, unconvinced, but he gave you an exaggerated grin and a thumbs-up. “Go, enjoy yourself. The girls are waiting, and if I recall, you’ve said something about have being challenged at dice again.”

That earned a chuckle from you, who finally relented. “Alright. But if you need me, don’t hesitate to come at me. I’m dead serious.”

Kaveh saluted you dramatically. “Yes, ma’am!”

With one last glance—one that lingered, as if memorizing him just in case—you left. The moment the door shut, Kaveh slumped against its wood with a deep sigh. Still, he didn't stay there for too long and soon crossed around the house's corridors looking for his daughter.

Zahra was in the middle of a grand pillow fortress when he found her, golden eyes bright with mischief. “Hi Daddy! Look! I made a castle!”

Kaveh grinned, kneeling beside her. “It's magnificent, my little architect. But I think it needs a tower here… and maybe a secret passage here?”

She gasped, completely entranced as the two of them got to work. What was meant to be a quick addition turned into an hour-long session of castle enhancements, dragon-slaying, and a daring escape from an imaginary evil mage.

Dinner followed, a messy affair of Zahra insisting she could eat with her hands and Kaveh attempting (and failing) to get her to use a spoon. “Zahra, my love, pasta is not finger food—oh, Archons, now it's in your hair!”

After a particularly splashy bath—where more water seemed to end up on Kaveh than in the tub—he wrestled a giggling Zahra into her pajamas. “You, little miss, are far too energetic tonight. Let’s get you into bed before I turn into a prune.”

Tucking Zahra into bed was the easiest part. Reading to her, however, was where the real challenge began.

“Tonight’s story is…” Kaveh yawned, flipping open a book, “The Adventure of the Clever Fox.”

He cleared his throat, sitting up straight. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it properly.

“Once upon a time in a vast forest—” a second yawn broke through “—lived a cunning fox who outwitted everyone he met.”

Zahra giggled as Kaveh attempted voices: a sly, slinking tone for the fox, a gruff, burly one for the bear, and a high-pitched squeak for the rabbit. But his words grew slower, syllables melting together.

“And then the fox said… said… uh…”

Zahra peeked up from under her blanket. “What did the fox say, daddy?”

Kaveh blinked rapidly, shaking himself awake. “Ah, yes! The fox said… Oh! Right. He said—” Another yawn. Another pause. “He said…”

Silence.

Zahra sat up. “Daddy?”

He was slumped against the headboard, mouth slightly open, the book resting on his chest nearly falling on the ground.

Asleep.

Zahra giggled and poked her father's cheek, testing how deep he fell asleep. Kaveh, in response, remained out like a light, completely oblivious to his surroundings. She took the book from his chest, flipping to a random page. “And then the fox said—” she mimicked, turning the book upside down and reading in an exaggerated voice, though the words were nowhere near what was actually written.

When you returned home a couple of hours later, you were greeted by an unexpected sight: Zahra, wide awake, cross-legged on the bed, reading (or attempting to) while Kaveh snored beside her.

You bit back a laugh, stepping forward. “What’s going on here?”

Zahra beamed. “Daddy slept before telling me what the fox said, so I read it for him!”

You leaned down, brushing back Kaveh’s hair before pressing a soft kiss to his temple. He barely stirred.

“You did a great job, sweetheart," you whispered, picking Zahra up. “But it's past your bedtime. How about you sleep with mommy tonight? Let's let daddy get some rest here tonight.”

The little girl eagerly agreed, and you led her back to your own bedroom, quickly stripping off your robes and accessories and getting your nighttime routine going so that Zahra wouldn't be kept awake waiting for you for too long.

As you settled beside your daughter under the blankets, Zahra’s sleepy voice murmured, “Daddy tried his best…”

You chuckled, putting a stroke of her blonde hair behind her ear. “He really did, didn't he?”

And as Zahra drifted off to sleep in the warmth of your embrace, across the hall, Kaveh let out a soft snore, his hand twitching slightly, as if still lost in dreams of clever foxes and bedtime stories.

LYNEY

The morning light gently streamed through the curtains of the twins' bedroom, casting a delicate golden glow over the cozy space. 

Lyney leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed and a soft smile on his lips as he observed the scene before him—two little lumps hidden beneath a sea of blankets, completely indifferent to the sunrise light.

“Time to wake up, little ones,” he called playfully, taking a few steps into the room. No response. He sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “What a tragedy! It seems my dear children have been turned into statues overnight! What should I do?” Still nothing. He could hear their soft breathing, confirming they weren’t so asleep as before.

Smiling, he tried a different approach. “Oh my... I guess I’ll have to eat all the pancakes by myself.”

Quentin’s reaction was immediate. The little boy threw the blankets aside, revealing a mess of tousled hair. “Pancakes?” He said almost in disbelief, his purple eyes still half-closed from sleep, but already moving by instinct. He jumped out of bed in a hurry, only pausing to give his father a good morning kiss on the cheek before dashing to the bathroom.

Lyney laughed, rubbing the spot where his son had kissed him. “Good morning to you too, sunshine.”

He turned his attention to Corinne, who was still curled up under the covers, unmoving. Lyney crouched beside the bed and gently pulled the blankets down just enough to reveal his daughter’s sleepy and serene little face. “Cori, sweetheart, time to wake up,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

A small whimper escaped her lips as she snuggled deeper into the warmth of her bed. “’m still sleepy, papa…”

Lyney’s heart melted. “I know baby girl, but it's time to get up…” he murmured, sliding his arms under her small body. Corinne let out a soft sigh as he effortlessly lifted her, her sleepy little head resting against his shoulder. He pressed a tender kiss to her temple before carrying her to the twins’ shared bathroom, where Quentin was already washing his face.

With one hand, Lyney dampened a cloth and gently wiped Corinne’s face. She mumbled softly but didn’t resist. “There, all fresh and beautiful,” Lyney sang, helping her brush her teeth and comb her hair.

“Papa!” Corinne murmured when he picked up the brush to separate her silky strands for a braid. “Not too tight.”

Lyney immediately loosened his touch. “Oh! Sorry,” he quickly apologized, loosening the braid a bit more. She let out a small sound of approval, allowing him to continue. Once he was done, he tied it with a lilac ribbon. “Voilà! Ready for breakfast.”

With both children's morning routine done and they dressed properly, the trio finally made their way to the kitchen, where a stack of fluffy pancakes awaited them. The twins eagerly dug in, Quentin pouring syrup over his pancakes while Corinne savored each bite slowly. Lyney couldn’t help but smile as he sipped his morning tea, watching his little ones enjoy their meal.

The rest of the morning was filled with activities. First, he helped them with their homework—simple number and letter exercises—then came cleaning time, which quickly turned into playful chaos.

Quentin and Corinne tried to help with dusting and sweeping, but their tiny hands only made more of a mess. At one point, Quentin tripped over the broom, sending dust flying everywhere, making his twin sister burst into laughter. Lyney sighed, knowing he would’ve to redo everything later, but their joyful laughter made it all worth it.

By noon, it was time for lunch. “Let’s make something special,” Lyney suggested, flipping through your recipe book.

“Ooh! Moon pie, moon pie!” Corinne pointed excitedly at a page.

Lyney raised an eyebrow. “Ah, ambitious! But why not? Let’s do it.”

Quentin tugged at his father’s sleeve. “Please, no onions, papa.”

The magician chuckled, ruffling his son’s hair. “No onions, got it.”

Cooking with the twins turned the kitchen into absolute chaos. Flour covered their faces and hair, bits of dough stuck to their fingers, and eggshells ended up in the most unexpected places. Quentin was in charge of mixing the filling, while Corinne carefully arranged the crust. At one point, Lyney noticed Corinne placing tiny decorative stars on top of the pie with an expression of absolute concentration.

“It looks wonderful, Cori,” Lyney praised, kissing her forehead.

With the pie in the oven, they moved on to making cookies, shaping them into hearts, moons, and even little cat faces. Quentin insisted on adding extra chocolate chips, saying it was “the secret to making them magical.”

By the time the food was ready, the kitchen was a disaster, but the pie smelled divine. They sat down to eat together, and even Lyney had to admit—it was delicious.

After lunch, the twin began yawning, their morning energy finally running out. Kitchen could be cleaned later. At this very moment, Lyney just wanted to enjoy his children a little bit more. 

The magician guided them to the couch, covering them with a soft blanket there. “Why don’t you take a little nap while the cookies are still baking? By the time you wake up they‘ll be ready to be eaten,” he whispered, gently stroking their hair.

Corinne nodded and snuggled against him, her tiny hands clutching the fabric of his shirt. “I love you, papa,” she murmured sleepily.

Quentin, already half-asleep, echoed, “Love you, papa…”

Lyney’s heart swelled as he pressed a soft kiss to each of their heads. “Je vous aime aussi, mes amours.”

As their breathing slowed, Lyney remained there, holding them close, listening to the soft hum of the oven and the gentle patter of rain against the window. A moment of peace, perfect—a memory he'd cherish forever.

WRIOTHESLEY

The morning air of the Fortress of Meropide carried the scent of sea salt and diesel oil from the working machines, mingling with the distant murmur of underground streams.

Back in his family private quarters, though, Wriothesley sat at the dining table, sipping his black tea calmly as he thumbed through the latest news from The Steambird. Across from him, you hurriedly nibbled on a slice of toast, your mind clearly elsewhere.

“I wish you’d eat more before leaving,” Wriothesley murmured, watching as you stood up and brushed the crumbs off your hands.

“Yeah, I know. But I woke up at the last minute today. I’ll make sure to grab something later, though. Don’t worry,” you assured him, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to his cheek. “Cameron is your responsibility today. Behave, love.”

His lips curved into a playful smirk. “Shouldn’t I be the one saying that to you?”

You only smirked before heading toward the door. “Bye, sweetheart! Have fun with your dad today!” you called over your shoulder.

From the hallway, a soft voice replied, “Bye, mommy.”

Wriothesley turned just in time to see his son, still in pajamas, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he entered the dining room.

“Good morning, champ,” Wriothesley greeted warmly. “Hungry?”

Cameron nodded but didn’t ask for help. Instead, he made his way to the kitchen, carefully pushing a stool to the counter so he could reach the bread and jam. Wriothesley watched in an amused delight, resting his chin on his hand, as his six-year-old meticulously prepared his own breakfast. His heart swelled with pride—Cameron was growing up so fast.

“You know... I could've made something else for you,” Wriothesley suggested, taking another sip of tea.

“That's okay, daddy. I can do it myself,” the little boy replied, spreading the jam on his toast with determined focus.

A small chuckle escaped Wriothesley. Not long ago, he carried this boy everywhere, and now Cameron was set on doing things on his own.

After finishing his meal, Cameron cleaned up his own messy by putting them into the dishwasher, heading to the bathroom where he brush his teeth, and a couple of minutes later, he returned to his father already dressed. Wriothesley looked at him approvingly, though he couldn’t help the bittersweet pang in his chest.

“Alright, let’s head to my office,” Wriothesley said, ruffling Cameron’s hair. The boy pouted but didn’t protest much.

Once inside the office, Cameron settled on the floor with his building blocks while Wriothesley started his reports. The steady sound of wood tapping against wood filled the room as Cameron focused on his creation, occasionally pausing to inspect it with critical eyes.

“Need help with that?” Wriothesley asked, noticing that Cameron was struggling to balance a particularly tall structure.

“No, I can do it.”

“Alright, alright.” Wriothesley chuckled softly and leaned back in his chair—but his eyes never went too far from his son's little form.

A few moments later, Cameron found himself tired of playing so he decided to jump to another activity. He picked up a homework book from his school bag he had brought earlier and started scribbling some numbers and letters. It wasn’t long before his pencil stopped, and he frowned at the page.

“Stuck on something?” Wriothesley asked.

Cameron hesitated, gripping his pencil tighter, but he said nothing. He could handle the problem by himself easily. Well… that’s what he wanted to believe, at least.

Wriothesley smiled knowingly but let him try. Only after five more minutes did Cameron finally give in, standing up and walking shyly over to his father’s desk.

“Uh…Daddy,” he murmured, almost in a whisper. “Can you help me with this?”

Wriothesley’s heart melted at the timid request. He patted his lap, and when Cameron hesitated, he gently pulled him up to sit there, just like he used to when he was smaller. “Of course, Cam. Let’s take a look.”

Together, they worked through the problem, Wriothesley’s voice soft and patient. Cameron, despite all his independence, nestled into his father’s warmth, his small fingers gripping Wriothesley’s sleeve.

Maybe he was growing up, but he’d always be Wriothesley’s little boy.

And that was more than enough.

[rcvcgers]

Rotten Apples

part two

pairing: caleb x non!mc reader

synopsis: you've always hated her. you live your life free from her and caleb. a stranger helps save you from a date gone wrong.

word count: 5.1k words

warnings: extreme loathing, kinda funny, kinda sad, a good mix of everything! mentions of death. not proofread!

author's note: hi! this is my first lads fic! it's lowkey a mess and is all over the place, but that's okay! i hope you all enjoy! <33 please feel free to comment! i love any & all feedback! <33

edit: part 2 will be coming soon! thank you for all the love on this! i love & appreciate every single one of you!

You never thought yourself to be a hateful person, but whenever you saw Caleb with her, your heart boiled. His smile was always the brightest with her. He always handed her the first water bottle after a run around the neighborhood. His eyes were always on her and not you during study hall. They shared giggles with one another and you were the last to know the joke as you filled out blank homework pages. Whenever she walked into a room, he jumped to her side and aided her with whatever it is she needed.

And she always needed something.

Your friendship with Caleb and the girl you deemed a she-devil blossomed from a young age, having been next-door neighbors with Josephine. You are older than her yet still a few months younger than Caleb, which meant that the two of you had to look out for her.

She was naive in many ways. She always trusts people too easily and is quick to help, not knowing that the world is cruel and is out to hurt her. It’s something you and Caleb bonded over; taking care of her was something you had in common with him alongside planes, absolutely loving apple pie, and always wanting to be the last one tagged during recess.

However, those childhood days have long passed and you’ve settled into a draining routine where you played a background character in someone else’s life.

When you and Caleb reached freshman year of high school, you were sure that he was going to ask you to be his date to the homecoming dance. Instead, you were surprised with the revelation that he was going to stay home and have a movie night with her since she wasn’t in high school yet.

Despite his compliments about your dress, he snuck back inside his house when you asked him if he needed a ride to the dance. She was waving him back inside in the background and he couldn’t have been happier to watch My Little Pony or whatever bullshit she had lined up.

You basked in his frequent compliments when he met you outside your home, when she wasn’t around. Caleb always knew what to say when you had a saddened frown on your face.

“Did James turn you down? I thought he liked you! You’re a catch!” Caleb’s warm words reached your ears and made the butterflies in your stomach flutter. At least he knew then that you were worthwhile. If only he wasn’t so blind to what you had to offer to him.

At least you had a year of high school alone with him. You two even shared a few classes together and had planned study nights to prepare for final exams! Huddled at the desk in his room, you could smell the sweet apple scent of his shampoo and were able to hear through raspiness of his chuckle right next to your ear.

It was fun until she came inside his room, claiming that she wanted to help you two study. That plan lasted for about ten minutes before she whined and complained that she wanted to watch her and Caleb’s favorite show. That night ended up with her snuggled into his side while he stroked her hair. You held the chip bowl, not by choice, and watched as your crush on the boy next door began to deteriorate.

When she finally joined your and Caleb’s high school, you bit your tongue and held back the deplorable comments that shuffled through your mind about his so called beloved. You even held back comments to your new friends about his relationship with her. You knew that if you ever said anything bad about her, he’d come to her defense and shun you for what you’ve said.

It never mattered how you felt. It didn’t matter if you were having a bad day or had just embarrassed yourself in front of your entire gym class when Becky threw a ball right at your face. His attention will forever be owned by her. You’ll never get to know how it feels to always be under his cautious gaze nor will you ever be a recipient of his charming smile.

Truth is, you used to be friends with them. The perpetual third wheel to all of their escapades and adventures. You used to be close to them but as time moved on, they grew closer together and you, well, just didn’t fit into their equation anymore. The funny thing is that they have no clue of their wrongdoing towards you nor did they realize that you had left their group entirely after months of sitting in your room, filled with nothing but discontent as you scrolled through their posted selfies together.

You thought you set yourself free from them. It’s better to watch from afar instead of up close, no? It spares you more heartbreak and it, very selfishly, keeps you away from her.

You can stay away from her smiles. Her laughter. The way her dark hair falls into the perfect messy bun while yours just looks plain erratic. Not to mention the way her hands always lingered on him while you watched, helpless from the other side of the lunch table.

And you can finally break free from that stupid nickname he has for her.

“Hey!” You hear a friend’s voice from over your shoulder. You turn and smile at them, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Are you ready for the game against the Rams tonight? I heard you’re starting!”

Before you can reply, you hear a thud behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, you notice that Caleb leans against the metal lockers. His arms are crossed over his chest and he wears that stupidly charming  grin on his face.

“You have a game tonight? Why didn’t you tell us?” He asks. Her smile falters.

Us. That damned word.

“It’s not a big deal,” you shrug, placing your leftover books inside the locker. “You two are usually busy anyways doing…whatever…so it wouldn’t have mattered if you knew or not.”

Okay, maybe there is some venom in your tone and malice in the way you throw your books into your locker. To be fair, you’re so fed up with them ghosting you and never showing up to your games that you can’t help but let some of your anger out.

“Woah!” Caleb pushes off the locker and holds his hands in the air. You roll your eyes and slam the locker shut, walking away. He quickly follows and matches your hellish pace. “What’s wrong? You’ve been so distant lately. Me and—”

“Don’t,” you bark. The two of you pause in the middle of the hallway, your eyes locked on his in a heated glare. “How long do you think it’s been since I’ve hung out with you two?”

A look of confusion flashes across his face. You have to stop yourself from looking at the way his face scrunches up, the way his tongue pokes about between his lips while he thinks.

“Hm…like a month?” Caleb’s words are genuine, you know that, but it shatters your heart to know that he doesn’t even realize it’s almost been a year since you two hung out, let alone were in a room together.

“A month?!” You scoff and look away. A laugh filled with disdain and shock escapes your lips. Your hands drop to your side, tightly balled into fists, as anger washes throughout your body. “Caleb, be real with me right now. Do you truly think it’s been a month?”

You want to give him a chance to redeem himself, for him to own up to the mistake he’s made. Everyone deserves a second chance, right?

“I do, yes…” he wearily says. Your nostrils flare, cheeks heating with irritation.

“Hey guys!” Her cheerful tone scratches the inside of your brain. You sharply inhale and close your eyes just to open them to the side of her attaching herself to his side. “Are you okay? You look angry,” she remarks and gently places her hand on your shoulder. You immediately slap it away. The tips of your fingers tingle from the smack.

“Hey! What was that for?” Caleb steps in front of her, pushing the teen girl behind him.

You cross your arms over your chest, eyes narrowing up at Caleb, who guards her from you.

“Just fuck off and leave me alone!” You snap, pushing past them, your shoulder bumping into Caleb’s bicep. 

“Wait!” Caleb’s voice rings in your ears. A flash of hope makes your heart flutter.

Is he going to chase after you? Will he finally ditch her and see how you’re feeling for a change? Will the old Caleb come back, the one that actually cared about you and your feelings?

Your feet hesitate, pace drastically slowly, still in earshot of the other two’s conversation. You can hear his footsteps coming after you, going from slow to quick, but they suddenly stop.

“She isn’t worth it, Caleb,” her voice shoots any semblance of hope you felt, ripping your heart into shreds. “She’s so mean…she doesn’t deserve your care.”

The hallway in front of you turns glossy. You use the back of your hand to wipe away the tears that brew in your eyes. Your once reluctant pace hastens and you disappear down the hallway, becoming just another face in the crowd.

The year passed and you graduated with a new group of friends; friends that welcomed and invited you with open arms. Your camera roll was no longer sad, filled with empty selfies with her and Caleb not paying attention in the background, shifting to group photos and friends completing the other side of your hand heart. It filled your heart with the joy and happiness that your previous friendships lacked.

And most importantly of all: you were completely over Caleb and didn’t have to spend any more time around her. It’s a relief for you, really, and you’re able to go to the college of your dreams and pursue the career you wanted. 

The saddened memories no longer pained you. They no longer dug into your skin. Instead, you planted them into the soil of your mind, using the special fertilizer (the special ingredient being resent), and grew from them.

So what if they wronged you? You were now free and didn’t owe either of them a damn thing! That is, until Caleb died.

The news nearly broke you. Your mother informed you of the news when you came home for a visit. You were on a much needed break from work and were looking for a chance to relax. Your time of relaxation was quickly turned inside out.

You became a shell of yourself, the last memory of Caleb haunting your mind as you holed up in bed, covers covering the entirety of your body with a small hole for clean and cool breathing air. Your cheeks became perpetually stained with tears, becoming sticky in your sleep before the cycle started all over again.

The day of his funeral was unnecessarily rough. Your mother had to drag you out of bed and help you into the shower, the hot water turning cold from the amount of time you stood there. Once you stepped out, body trembling from the cold air, you stared at the black dress that was laid out across your bed.

It was simple. It stopped mid-thigh and the sleeves ran long down your arms. You paired it nicely with tights from high school, a pair that Caleb complimented you on, and a pair of simple booties.

She was the center of attention, of course, there was no doubt about that. The ache in your chest left you feeling conflicted. She sat alone, head hung low, as people walked by, chuckling as if they weren’t at a funeral reception.

You almost felt bad for her and the way her mascara streaked down her cheeks. She clung to a piece of metal in her hand, occasionally bringing it up to her lips to kiss it.

The distance between the two of you felt like a game of cat and mouse. She took one step forward, you took one back. She entered the hallway you found recluse in, you made sure that there was room in the closet for you to hide in.

You thought that you were able to slip out unnoticed until she called out your name.

“Hi…” your voice falls off. Her fists are balled at her sides, knuckles white.

“What are you doing here?” Her words are sharp, effortlessly slicing into you. “I thought you hated him.”

“I could never hate him…” the words barely come out, just above a meek whisper. She doesn’t say anything else. All she does is stare at you with her heartbroken expression, eyes strained and red from the sobs she let out earlier.

A part of your heart broke for her. The other part remained emotionless, knowing how she tormented you in your younger years by dangling Caleb in front of your face. It tormented you to know that you could still hold a sliver of resentment in your heart for something that happened so long ago. You quietly left, leaving her alone in the hallway, disappearing behind a familiar turn.

A year passes. The hatred you held in your heart has dissipated. You’ve watered the flowers you planted in your mind and the petals read off messages of forgiveness and second chances, even though you made sure to never run into her ever again.

Some people can forgive and forget, but you’ll be sure to forgive and keep a distance.

Skyhaven isn’t too bad of a home. Sure, there’s barely any trace of organic life throughout the city, except for the token tree the mayor decided to add about two months ago, but it’s a nice place to live. You’ve made yourself comfortable. The nightlife is great and the rain is even better. You even made some friends at your job and have gone out on a date or two with a guy who is very attentive.

But none of them are Caleb.

You stare at yourself in the cafe mirror, shaking your head. You fix your disheveled hair, wondering how you managed to spend the last ten minutes digging up the past when you’re on a date with a very cute guy. You bite your lip and tweak the last details of your outfit, flattening out a wrinkle in your skirt.

Pushing the bathroom door open, you glide down the hallway, smiling at the other customers who pass by. You can finally go back to…what’s his name again?

Jared? Clyde? Marc, who always emphasizes that there’s a ‘C’ at the end of his name instead of a ‘K’?

You clap your hands together when the name comes back to you. He jumps in his seat, his eyes closing in on you when you sit down. His smile is a little too goofy, missing out on any kind of charm that he can capitalize on, and you can’t help but watch out of the lower half of your vision as he itches his crotch.

“Thanks for waiting for me, George,” a warm smile spreads across your lips. He matches it and leans forward, pushing a colorful mug in your direction. You watch it closely before drawing it closer to you. You don’t take a sip, though, instead letting the whipped cream on top of the coffee melt. You sigh.

You don’t even liked whipped cream on your coffee. You know who would have remembered that?

“It was no problem at all!” George proudly proclaims. His chair scraps across the wooden floor. He inches closer and closer towards you in an attempt to close the distance but you scoot away from him, keeping a pleased smile on your face.

“So, what were you saying you do for a job?” Your question goes straight to his head. Gnawing at the inside of your cheek, you refrain from interrupting him about his long ramble about how he works as a “video game consultant” at a local game store.

The conversation is so painful to sit through. You glance between his beady gaze and the clock on the wall behind him. The ticking hands somehow move slower when he dives into his day to day routine. Maybe the whipped cream isn’t as bad as you previously thought.

An hour goes by and you have barely been able to get a word in. Mugs form into a half-circle in front of you. Your leg bounces up and down, hands jittery. Even your blinking is rapid as you solely stare at the clock.

“That’s enough about me. Tell me about yourself,” George grabs his glass. He ordered a cream soda at the beginning of the date but the cream separated from the colorful soda water, forming into chunky clouds.

“You know what,” you breathe out in a laugh, signaling over your shoulder to the door, “it’s getting late. I have an early start tomorrow so I should get going.” You stand from the chair and snatch your tiny purse from the seat beside you.

The cafe is practically empty now and the sun has set hours ago. You rush towards the exit, the route to the door feeling like it never ends as Greg — oh shit, George! — chases after you. 

The Skyhaven night is nice and crisp. The rain isn’t as hard tonight, just a mere sprinkle, and you rush out into the open, taking a deep breath. The chilled air fills your burning lungs and you’re able to breathe again, that is, until George grabs your hand. You gasp and snatch it back from him.

The raindrops lightly kiss your face but George’s sickening smile makes you want to hurl. He creeps towards you, the moon shining just bright enough for you to see the darkness form in his eyes.

“I have to get home, George!” You nervously chuckle, turning away. You rush towards the nearest bus stop, knowing that there will be other people there to take refuge with. George doesn’t let up though and his movements become more primal and animalistic as the seconds tick by.

“Come on, sweetheart,” George beckons from behind. You can hear his ragged breath from behind you grow close. You brace your body for impact…but nothing comes. Instead, you hear a struggle from behind. You swirl on your heels and stare at the scene behind you.

A tall man pushes George away from you. The moonlight reflects off of the shine of his coat, the top of his hat deflecting the light raindrops. You stagger backward, heart racing inside your chest, as George crumbles to the ground, a blur of red, grey, and blue pushing down on the man.

“She said she’s going home,” the voice growls. It itches the back of your mind, calling to you like a faint memory. “Leave. Or I’ll crush you right here and now.”

The voice beckons to you from the back of your mind, putting it at ease. The voice calls out your name followed by a throaty chuckle. It asks you how you’re doing, if you need help with that week’s math homework. You can also hear his voice apologize to you for forgetting about your plans to go to the movies with your group of friends, making some excuse that she got locked in the attic and needed rescuing.

The moonlight turns dark, the floating rock covered by a cloud, as the figure slowly approaches you. The once soft droplets of rain evolve into hardened projectiles, the wind picking up from all around you. With the weather matching your quickly escalating mood, you march through the rain, the phantom chasing after you.

“Hey! You’re getting soaked!” His voice calls from behind. You pay no attention to it.

The voice sounds exactly like a dead man! A person who is resting in peace six feet under and couldn’t possibly be here in Skyhaven.

You reach the bus stop and hide under the small covering, the rain pounding against the top, rolling off the sides. You hold your arms to yourself and your teeth clatter on the inside of your mouth. You have to tell yourself to not look at the man beside you.

Stranger danger, after all.

“Why are you ignoring me?” The man asks. It’s just the two of you at the bus stop. The stop’s light flickers, adding to the already ominous feeling that forms deep inside your chest. You hug your arms to your body, providing the only warmth in this cold night. “Oh, I get it. You’re mad at me.”

“I don’t even know who you are!” You retort rather quickly, finally looking up at the man.

You gasp and stumble backward. He quickly reaches for you, his large, warm hands gripping your waist, stabilizing you.

He looks down at you with an irresistible and charming smile. His purple eyes seem to glow under the dim lighting. He wears a black and orange rain jacket, black baseball cap sitting on his head. He cocks his head to the side, gaze drifting to memorize your face.

Nausea sweeps over your body. You tear your gaze off of the phantom before you. The cold air pricks the inside of your lungs, rapidly moving in and out of your system.

This can’t be real, right? He cannot possibly be standing in front of you, alive and well, with that damn smile on his face. A single tear rolls down your cheek, your lips parted. Your breath flows out of your mouth in gentle plumes of steam.

“Caleb?” Your voice falters. He chuckles, smoothing down your frizzy hair.

“The one and only! C’mon, you can say it: you missed me!”

You reach out, grabbing his arms, squeezing him. His brows furrow, eyes training themselves on your hands as you poke and prod various parts of his body. You grab his cheeks, pulling on them before squishing his face. He gently takes your hands into his, moving your hands away from his face.

“You done yet?”

“You’re alive!”

“I am well aware of that, yes.” His laugh fills your ears and your heart swells.

Even after all these years of forgetting Caleb, you still end up swooning for him the moment he saves you from Landon.

Or was it David? Eh. It doesn’t really matter.

“How…what…” you stammer, unable to form a cohesive and coherent sentence. Caleb sighs and takes your hand. He flattens your palm against his chest.

How heartbeat is slow and steady…it’s there. You gasp, bottom lip trembling, legs slowly becoming jelly.

Tears freely flow down your face as the realization of his existence sets in.

He’s alive.

He’s here.

He’s breathing.

His last memory of you isn’t you ending your friendship and avoiding him for the rest of your senior year of high school.

You collapse to your knees, hand digging into your chest. A sharp pain slices into your chest as your fingernails dig into your skin in an attempt to grab your heart and to scream at it to calm down. The pounds from your heart makes your ears ring, drowning out the endless pitter patter of rain. Even your lungs feel as if they are on fire, unable to suck in and inhale the oxygen that you need to survive.

Your eyes open and Caleb’s face is right in front of yours. You can hear him speak but cannot make out a single word that he says. He gently helps you back to your feet.

“Take it easy,” his words seep through the sound of your heartbeat, “breathe.”

His hand slides to the back of your neck, warming your body, and his thumb gently grazes the side of your neck. You inhale through your nose, holding it for a few seconds before slowly exhaling until all of the air is out of your lungs.

“Does she know?” the question pops out of your mouth before you can stop it.

How could you even ask that at a time like this? You should be seeing if he’s okay! If he’s in any sort of trouble that you can help get him out of.

Did he fake his death? Has he been alive this whole time? When was he going to come see you?

Caleb sharply inhales through gritted teeth, pulling away from your face. You watch him closely, bottom lip trembling.

You know. You know the answer.

Of course she knew before you! She is his beloved, the one person he will spend the rest of his life with. It’s laughable to even think that you stood a chance against her.

“Actually,” you interrupt him, covering his mouth, “don’t answer that. I really don’t want to know.” Even though every fiber of your being screamed blood murder at you to figure it out.

Is he dating her? Has he ditched her for good? HAs Caleb finally come to the realization that she isn’t some angel that came down from the heavens.

His purple eyes blink at you, perplexed by your actions. Caleb speaks into your hand but his voice is a mere muffle. You sigh and look out at the pouring rain.

You need to get home.

You need to get home and get away from him.

You need to relieve yourself of any memory, item, or scent that can remind you of him because, well, he clearly isn’t yours to have.

If you stay any longer, you’re going to end up crying in the rain, unloading all of your emotions onto him. And Caleb, who has risen from dead, doesn’t deserve to hear any of it. He’s innocent in all of this and no matter how angry and resentful you can feel towards him, you’ll never be able to hold it against him.

“Get home safe, Caleb,” you breathe the words out, slowly releasing your hand from his mouth.

You push away from him and bare the thundering rain on your own, hugging your jacket to your body. You sprint across the street, desperately needing to get away from him.

Caleb watches you with wide eyes, captivated by the woman you’ve become.

You’ve lost all the baby fat in your cheeks. Your hair is longer and is styled to perfection.

You’re bolder. Funnier, even, whether it’s intentional or not. Caleb laughed at your jokes in the cafe, particularly the ones that George didn’t find funny.

Whatever. He’s an idiot.

He heard your laugh from inside the cafe and got drunk off of it. He found himself smiling wider than he has before in the past year.

You took his mind off of his stressful job, which he just came back from, and relaxed his body. He didn’t think about how ling he stayed in that damned tunnel nor did he think about his connections with Ever.

Your laugh turned off the fight or flight switch that perpetually stayed on inside his head. It did pain him, though, to know that you were out with other guys. This George fellow is not your match. He’s a Sul-indulgent prick who only talks about himself.

And what the fuck is a video game consultant anyways?

His job is nothing compared to being a Colonel in the Farspace Fleet. You’ll surely be impressed with that.

You did always say you loved a man in a uniform.

His purple eyes flicker with excitement. He steps out into the rain and follows in your exact footsteps. Once he’s across the street, he turns around and stares at the cafe you two once sat in.

She walks out with her friends, umbrellas covering their heads. They smile and laugh with one another, teasing as thunder booms in the background. He chuckles at their umbrellas but his smile quickly fades when he realizes that you didn’t have one.

Silly girl. Now he has to check in on you and make for sure that you don’t catch a cold.

His gaze drifts to her but the spark he once felt isn’t there anymore. She’s…boring now. Caleb tilts his head back and laughs.

How could he have been so blind?

His focus has been on her all along but you…you are something else.

Captivating. Intoxicating. Enchanting. Hilarious. Fascinating.

Your fruity perfume formed a tent in his pants. Have you always smelled like apples and cinnamon? You encapsulate an autumn evening. Suddenly, he loves it when the leaves change colors and fall from the trees. He’ll never let you fall ever again.

Caleb doesn’t know how he let you slip through his fingers so many times. You live in Skyhaven, too, right under his nose. He should have found you sooner.

He should have gone with you to the homecoming dance. He regrets not watching you during the countless games you’ve invited him to. He should have closed the door in her face when she petered you two when you needed to study for the math exam. It was never your best subject. Lucky, he excelled in it.

And he should have fucking gone after you when you told him to fuck off all those years ago.

But now?

Now Caleb’s going to take back the time he missed out on. Surely, you’d feel the same way when he comes back? After all, he does know where you live now.

Six floors up. The fourth room from the left. You have a stained glass butterfly hanging in your window. He’ll see it up close soon enough.

He stands outside your apartment building with a bright smile on his face, staring up at your bedroom. He can see you move throughout the living room, your shadow painted against the far wall. His eyes follow as you slip into your bedroom. You look out the window.

What are you looking at? I’m here. Show me anything. Give me the signal I need to come and save you.

You turn on a lamp. The light points up to the butterfly, illuminating the blue and orange colors from the glass.

You’re so thoughtful.

How did you know those are his favorite colors?

Caleb chuckles to himself, shaking his head. His feet carry him to the entrance of your apartment building, just barely sneaking in as a couple leaves. He thanks them and sneaks to an elevator, stepping inside as he presses the button to your floor.

Thank you for the signal, he thinks to himself, I’ll be there soon.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

if you're interested in being a part of a taglist, please let me know here!

[starfruitii]

cws & notes. fluff! post-timeskip. iwaizumi hajime x implied fem!reader. 500+ words. since you guys liked the last one, here's more iwaizumi :) he's so <3

Iwaizumi is a gentleman. It's made immensely clear even before you started dating him, that chivalry isn't dead as long as he is living and breathing.

You never have to touch a doorknob when you're walking by his side, because by the time you reach out, he's already turning the handle. It's instinct by now; he could be midway through a monologue about the clients at his job, or the mediocre weather they've been having, or any other topic, and he'd still never forget to hold the door open for you to pass through first.

It's a wonder how you didn't notice sooner, with how frequently it happens, but it's not the only thing. It can be subtle at times, so much that you barely notice when he guides you to the street side of the footpath, leaving himself closest to the road, or when he lends you his umbrella, even if he has a longer walk home.

The habits are charming, but no moment shows his ways better he asks you out. A bunch of neatly clipped roses in hand, in his nicest shirt and pants, he arrives with a whole speech ready to confess his feelings. For once, he even looks nervous, almost stumbling over his words. But all of that is gone as soon as you smile at him, accepting his invitation with a breathless laugh.

Suddenly, with the walls of friendship knocked down, and faced with the chance for more, it only amplifies. Now, he gets to hold your hand, and drape his jacket over your shoulders, and slide his arm around your waist to draw you closer. Whenever you go out together, he's always either at your side or close by, holding your drink when you duck into the bathroom, and glaring at anyone who dares to make you feel uncomfortable.

And it's not just you who sees it, it's everyone else too.

On his birthday, a few of his closest friends gathered for drinks together, celebrating the occasion together. You were enjoying yourself for a while, but the gathering was starting to drain you. It was loud, and it was cold, and Iwaizumi noticed. He always did.

“You good?” He asked lowly. “We can leave early if you want.”

“I'm fine,” You said, stifling a shiver. The movement wasn't lost on Iwaizumi, and his brows furrowed minutely. He shrugged off his own jacket—the nice, comfortable black one you bought for him as a gift—and gently laid it over you. The weight of it settling across your shoulders was comforting, and you smiled in gratitude.

“Can't believe this favouritism,” Mattsun, sitting a barstool over, rolled his eyes, light-heartedly slapping Iwaizumi on the back. “He never treats us like that, you know. What if I was cold, huh?”

It was true, you realize slowly. You've never seen him interact with anyone else quite in the same way as how he interacts with you. Perhaps that's to be expected, with you being his partner, but it was obvious even before. Even with all his rough edges, every part of him was softened especially for you.

You smiled at Iwaizumi, with nothing but love. “Oh, that's just the way he is.”

A gentleman, through and through.

do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai. reblogs are appreciated <3

[bewaryofpity]

could i plz get smut #17 with quinn hughes 💕💞💗

thank you for requesting ! 🩶

17. “Keep the noise down, baby. You’re too loud.”

.

You weren’t an outdoorsy person by any means, but you couldn’t exactly decline Quinn’s parents' invitation to a weekend camping retreat. And despite your initial hesitation, you found yourself packed into the backseat of their SUV, winding through pine-lined roads towards the campsite.

The air was crisp, the scent of damp earth strong just like the humidity sticking to your face. You sighed, tugging your hoodie tighter around yourself as you stepped onto the uneven ground, waiting for Quinn to finish unloading the car. 

“Come on,” Quinn called with a grin, tossing you a rolled-up sleeping bag. “Let’s set the tent up before dinner.”

With reluctant hands, you fumbled through assembling the tent, getting frustraded left and right, and the fact that he was snickering at you almost made you want to drop everything and let him build the tent on his own. It wasn’t long before the fabric was stretched taut, the stakes firmly planted in the dirt. 

Dinner was as simple as it could be. Jim brought out a small grill to use over an open flame, the occasional crackle of firewood filling the lulls in conversation. Sooner than you expected, the fire died down, feeling the cold of the night seeping into your skin, and you all decided to call it a night. But Quinn had other plans. 

“Stop moving.” He said. 

“Sorry but I’m freezing.” 

You wriggled into your sleeping bag, feeling the hard ground beneath you despite the extra padding. Quinn settled closer beside you to bring you some comfort, one hand wrapping around your middle. He placed an hesitant kiss to the back of your neck, then more and more as you unconsciously rolled your hips back into his. You felt a smirk creep onto his lips, his hand moving under your hoodie to palm at the skin of your stomach and your hip. 

“Quinn, stop, your parents are literally a few feet away.” You whisper-yelled, but it was useless because your body was betraying you. 

“It’s okay, they won’t hear us.” He muttered, nuzzling his nose into your neck.

In a swift motion he pulled your pants down just enough to get access to you, doing just the same to his. He took two fingers between your folds to gather your slick and used it to stroke his dick before lining up with your entrance. He was teasing you, taking his time to bottom you out and when he finally did, a whined moan escaped your lips. “Keep the noise down, baby. You're too loud.” 

Impatient, you pushed your ass into him, the rustling of your clothes brushing against your sleeping bag filling the tent. You muffled your cries with your hand as Quinn pounded into you at a fast pace now, his free hand dropping between your legs to play with your clit. He groaned at your tight walls squeezing him and he bit into your neck to stay quiet.

“Shh, baby, I know.” His lips brushed at your shoulder, forehead resting on your neck as he fastened his pace on your bundle of nerves. Your hand did almost nothing to stop your moans from leaving your mouth, but it didn’t take long for you to come undone on his cock with a loud cry. Your cunt tightened as you hit your orgasm and Quinn spilled his release into you with a grunt. 

Panic surged onto you as you realized you had to face his parents the next morning.

[writeriguess]

Katsuki x f reader one bed trope??? PLEASE????

Frozen Flames

Snow crunched beneath your boots as you trudged up the steep, frost-bitten slope, the icy wind biting at any exposed skin. The mission brief had been clear—track down and neutralize the villain terrorizing the nearby village. But of course, luck had thrown Katsuki Bakugo into your path, turning an already difficult mission into a nightmare.

“You’re too slow,” Katsuki sneered, his voice barely carrying over the howling wind. “At this rate, the villain will be sipping hot cocoa before you even show up.”

You shot him a glare, cheeks stinging from the cold and his biting words. “Not all of us need to blow everything up to get the job done, Bakugo.”

“Maybe if you actually did something useful, I wouldn’t have to.”

You bit back a retort, focusing on the task at hand. Katsuki had always been a thorn in your side since UA. Every mission, every training session was a battleground, not just against the enemies but against each other. You both had climbed the ranks quickly, proving your worth as heroes, but your rivalry never simmered down. If anything, it had only intensified.

The villain’s hideout was nestled in a cavern halfway up the mountain, obscured by snowdrifts and jagged rocks. The ambush happened fast—a blur of motion, cold wind, and ice shards hurtling toward you. Katsuki’s explosions countered them, the blasts lighting up the twilight sky.

Your quirk surged to life, heating the air around you and melting the snow at your feet as you redirected the villain's attacks. But the terrain was unforgiving, and your focus slipped for just a second.

A sharp pain tore through your side as a shard of ice embedded itself into your flesh, your blood seeping out in a vivid contrast against the pure white snow.

“Idiot!” Katsuki roared, his eyes wide with a mixture of fury and—was that worry?—as he blasted the villain backward. “Can’t you do anything right?”

You grit your teeth against the pain, forcing yourself to stand straighter. “I don’t need your help.”

“Clearly, you do.”

With one last explosion, Katsuki subdued the villain, snow and debris settling around the both of you. His chest heaved, crimson eyes blazing as they darted to your wound.

“Let me see,” he demanded, stepping closer.

“I said, I’m fine.”

“And I said let me see!” His voice was harsh, but his touch was surprisingly gentle as he peeled back the torn fabric to inspect the injury. The cold was quickly numbing your senses, making the pain less sharp but more dangerous.

Katsuki’s jaw clenched. “There’s a cabin a few minutes from here. Can you walk?”

You nodded, though your legs felt like they were made of lead. “Just...don’t blow anything up on the way.”

The trek to the cabin was brutal.

The wind howled like a wounded beast, whipping the snow in furious spirals that made it almost impossible to see beyond a few feet. Your boots crunched against the icy ground, each step sending a dull ache through your body. The wound in your side burned and throbbed, the cold numbing the pain but stealing the strength from your limbs.

And then there was him.

Katsuki Bakugo walked beside you, his presence an irritating combination of warmth and hostility. His hand, firm and unyielding, had latched onto your arm the second your knees threatened to buckle, and he hadn't let go since.

“Stop dragging me, Bakugo,” you snapped, your breath coming out in visible puffs of air.

He scoffed but didn’t loosen his grip. “Oh, excuse me, princess, for stopping you from eating shit face-first into the snow.”

“Maybe I want to eat shit. Did you ever think of that?”

His eye twitched. “You’re so damn annoying.”

You shoved at his shoulder with what little strength you had left. He barely budged, the heat from his body stark against the bone-chilling cold. “Then leave me alone.”

“You’d freeze in ten minutes. Not my fault you’re built like a damn icicle.”

Your retort died in your throat when the cabin finally came into view. It was a squat, wooden thing, nestled between the jagged ridges of the mountains, almost buried beneath thick layers of snow. Smoke no longer curled from the chimney, which meant it hadn't been used in a while—but at least it was shelter.

You barely had the strength to stumble through the door before Katsuki kicked it shut behind you, shaking the snow off his arms with an annoyed grunt.

The interior was barebones—worse than you’d hoped. A single wooden table, a few cabinets that might hold emergency supplies, a fireplace, and…

Your stomach dropped.

One. Single. Bed.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Katsuki followed your gaze, blinking at the pitiful excuse for a sleeping arrangement before a slow, smug smirk crept across his face. “What’s wrong? Scared to share a bed with me?”

Your face burned hotter than it had any right to in subzero temperatures. “I’d rather sleep outside.”

“Be my guest.” He shrugged off his heavy coat, tossing it aside before crouching by the fireplace. With a few well-aimed sparks from his fingertips, flames roared to life, casting flickering shadows against the log walls. The warmth was immediate, seeping into your frozen bones.

Reluctantly, you shuffled closer to the fire, rubbing your hands together.

Katsuki glanced at you, then at your still-shivering form, and let out a long, suffering sigh. “You’re still cold?”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re useless like this. Get in the damn bed.”

Your stomach flipped. “Excuse me?”

“You’re freezing, dumbass,” he grumbled, standing to his full height and stripping off his gloves. “You’re losing heat too fast. Either we do this the hard way, where you pass out and I have to warm you up anyway, or you stop being stubborn and get your ass under the covers.”

You hated that he made sense. You hated even more that he was always warm—like a walking furnace, his body heat already making the space around him feel unfairly comfortable.

But the alternative was actually freezing, and you were really starting to lose feeling in your toes.

“…Fine,” you muttered through gritted teeth, standing on shaky legs. “But if you try anything, I’ll—”

“Yeah, yeah, stab me in my sleep, blah blah. Just get in.”

The bed creaked under your combined weight as you clambered in first, bundling yourself under the rough, thin blanket. The moment Katsuki slid in beside you, the whole mattress dipped, pressing you closer together. Your entire body locked up.

And then—

Heat.

The contrast was almost shocking. His warmth radiated, sinking into your frozen limbs, your aching muscles, the marrow of your bones. You exhaled a shaky breath as relief flooded through you, but that relief was immediately overshadowed by the realization that you were spooning.

Spooning. With Bakugo.

“Relax,” Katsuki grunted from behind you, his arm firm around your waist to keep you close. “You’re shivering like crazy.”

You clenched your jaw, trying to ignore how solid he felt, how the slow rise and fall of his chest against your back was weirdly steadying. “I hate this.”

“You think I’m enjoying this?” His breath was hot against the back of your neck, making you worse. “Tch. You’re ice-cold, it’s like hugging a damn corpse.”

You elbowed him weakly. “Then let go.”

He didn’t.

Silence stretched between you, save for the occasional pop of the firewood. The exhaustion from the fight, from the cold, from everything, started creeping in, turning your limbs heavy.

“…Thanks,” you murmured reluctantly.

“For what?”

You swallowed. “Dragging my ass up here. And, y’know. Not letting me freeze to death.”

Katsuki huffed. “Damn right you should be thanking me.” But then, quieter, almost like he didn’t want you to hear it:

“…Just don’t die on me, idiot.”

Your eyes fluttered shut. The warmth, the exhaustion, him—it was all too much.

For once, you didn’t argue.

[meinii]

“be my valentine forever”

summary: it’s valentine’s day, but you haven’t even heard from Sylus. he must have forgotten… or so you thought

content: fluff

୨୧･｡｡･♡･∴･♡･｡｡･୨୧

valentine’s day had never been a big deal to you—at least, that’s what you always told yourself. but this year, it felt different. maybe it was because everyone at work had been receiving flowers, chocolates, and gifts all day.

maybe it was because you had seen couples walking hand in hand, smiling, whispering sweet nothings to each other

or maybe it was because Sylus, your arrogant, smug, too-clever-for-his-own-good lover, hadn’t even mentioned valentine’s day once

you knew he was busy. ruling over Onychinus wasn’t exactly a nine-to-five job, and he had a habit of getting wrapped up in his own plans. but still… not even a text? not even a simple happy valentine’s day?

so by the time your shift ended, irritation had settled in. you walked out of the building, ready to head home and sulk—only to freeze in your tracks

because standing right outside, dressed in his usual sharp black blazer draped over his shoulders, was Sylus

and in his hands? a massive bouquet of red roses, dark petals velvety and rich. an expensive-looking box of chocolates sat on top of them, tied with a sleek ribbon

his red eyes found yours instantly, sharp as ever, but there was something playful in them, something teasing

“took you long enough” he said, his lips curving into that knowing smirk

you crossed your arms, trying to keep up the front of being mad. “oh? now you remember valentine’s day?”

Sylus let out a low chuckle, stepping closer, the scent of roses and his cologne mixing in the air. “did you really think I’d forget?” he tilted his head slightly “you wound me”

“you didn’t say anything all day.”

he leaned down, close enough that his breath brushed your cheek

“because I was planning a surprise”

before you could protest, he slipped an arm around your waist and led you toward his car—a sleek, black vehicle that practically screamed power and wealth

“get in” he said, opening the door for you

“and if I say no?” you teased, still holding onto your stubbornness

his smirk deepened “then I’ll just carry you.”

you huffed but slid into the car anyway, pretending not to notice the way your heart was racing. once Sylus was behind the wheel, the drive was smooth, the city lights flashing past. you wanted to ask where you were going, but the way he kept glancing at you, amusement dancing in his eyes, told you he wouldn’t spill

when the car finally came to a stop, you blinked in surprise

“the luna park?”

but something was off. it was quiet. no lines. no crowds

Sylus got out first, walking around to open your door before holding out his hand

“rented it for the night,” he said, as if it was the most casual thing in the world “figured we deserved some privacy.”

your mouth fell open slightly “you… rented out an entire amusement park?”

he hummed “it’s valentine’s day, isn’t it? I don’t like sharing.”

your irritation melted instantly, replaced by warmth so strong it made your chest ache.

taking his hand, you let him lead you inside, the colorful lights of the park reflecting in his red eyes

the first thing he did was take you to one of the stalls, where plushies lined the shelves as prizes

“which one do you want?” he asked

you pointed at a soft-looking crow plush, its dark feathers making it stand out among the rest

Sylus arched a brow but didn’t question it

instead, he rolled up his sleeves, picked up one of the balls, and in a single throw, knocked down every target with effortless precision

the worker—who must’ve been paid well to stay late—looked half-impressed, half-terrified as he handed over the crow plush.

Sylus placed it in your arms, his fingers brushing against yours

“it suits you” he murmured

“because you gave it to me?”

his smirk softened, just slightly “because it’ll remind you of me”

you couldn’t help but laugh, hugging the plush to your chest. as the night went on, you rode the ferris wheel, played more games (where Sylus, unsurprisingly, never missed a shot), and even bought matching headbands—yours with little stars, his with tiny black horns

“I’m not wearing this” he said at first

“please?” you tilted your head, giving him your best pleading look

he sighed, muttering something under his breath, but he put it on. and even though he pretended to be unimpressed, he didn’t take it off for the rest of the night.

eventually, you both found a bench near the carousel, the distant sound of music filling the air. you pulled out the box of chocolates he had given you earlier and opened it, picking up one of the pieces

“eat with me” you said, offering him one

Sylus glanced at it, then at you “I don’t eat sweets”

“just one,” you insisted “for valentine’s day”

he sighed again, but when you placed the chocolate against his lips, he didn’t pull away

instead, he let you feed it to him, his gaze never leaving yours as he bit down

“happy now?” he asked, voice lower than before

you grinned, popping a piece into your own mouth “very”

there was a brief silence, the world around you feeling far away. Sylus reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek before settling at the back of your neck, pulling you closer

“be mine,” he murmured “not just today, forever.”

your heart skipped a beat “is that your way of asking me to be your valentine?”

his lips twitched “do I even need to ask?”

you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against his lips, tasting the lingering sweetness of chocolate “yes,” you whispered “forever.”

Sylus smiled against your lips, and for once, there was no arrogance in it. just something deep, something real

[heejamas]

nicest guy: 28. the super bowl episode

word count: 10k words (sorryyyy....) + 10 screenshots

warnings: MDNI!!!!!! explicit sexual content. petnames, spanking, unprotected sex (dont do it!!!!) all the fucking lot. spoiler alert im so sorry...... thank you......

prev | masterlist | next

Jake pulled up in front of your place at exactly 5:30, just like he said he would. You slid into the passenger seat, buckling yourself in as he shot you a smirk. “You’re looking way too cute for a football night,” he teased, eyes flickering over your outfit.

“Should I have worn a jersey?” you joked.

“I mean, if it were a Chiefs jersey, I’d be down bad.”

“Don’t start,” You warned, trying to suppress a smile.

“Start what? Being charming?” He pulled away from the curb, one hand on the wheel, the other adjusting the radio. “Can’t help it.”

You rolled her eyes, looking out the window. “I feel like this is just another one of your many talents. Football, flirting, and what else?”

Jake glanced at you, grinning. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

By the time you pulled up to Heeseung’s place, the party was already in full swing. The scent of pizza, wings, and beer lingered in the air, blending with the distant roar of pre-game analysis from the TV. The house was packed with excited chatter, the occasional burst of laughter echoing through the rooms.

Jake led the way inside, his palm pressing lightly against the small of your back—an unnecessary but deliberate touch that didn’t go unnoticed. Your eyes scanned the crowded living room until they landed on Sunghoon, lounging on the couch next to Jungwon and Jay, a beer lazily dangling from his fingers.

He saw you and Jake enter together. His gaze flickered between the two of you, pausing ever so slightly on where Jake’s hand rested against your back. Then, as if amused by the whole scene, he smirked and leaned back into the couch, exuding that effortless, unreadable coolness that always made your stomach twist.

Jake shook off the feeling and turned his attention to the rest of the room. “Hey, losers,” Jake greeted, grinning as you walked further in.

Beomgyu, perched on the arm of the couch, dramatically clutched his chest. “Finally, some respect in this household.”

Heeseung, from his spot in the kitchen, lifted his drink. “About time you got here. You’re lucky, kickoff’s in fifteen.”

“Wouldn’t want to miss it,” you replied, moving to greet everyone properly.

Then, just as you were pulling away from Jay’s quick side hug, Sunghoon was there. And unlike the others, he didn’t go for a casual half-hug—no, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. Too close. Long enough for you to feel the firm press of his chest against yours, the warmth radiating off him, the way his fingers pressed lightly against your waist.

Your breath caught, just for a second. And then, finally, he let go, his lips twitching upward as he murmured, “You good?”

Before you could even formulate a response, Jungwon’s voice cut in, dry and unimpressed. “Yeah, okay. Let me say hi to my sister,” your twin gave you a pointed look, barely concealing his exasperation.

Sunghoon cleared his throat, stepping back. “Right.”

Jake, who had been watching the whole thing with narrowed eyes, didn’t waste a second. The moment you were within reach again, he pulled you slightly closer to his side, fingers brushing against yours as if reminding you who invited you in the first place. Sunghoon, of course, noticed. He didn’t say anything, but the amused glint in his eyes was enough to make Jake’s jaw tighten.

“Beer?” Sunghoon offered, reaching for the cooler beside the couch. He pulled out two bottles, holding one toward you first.

Before you could take it, Jake spoke. “I’m good.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t asking you.”

Jake just shrugged, undeterred. “I’m practically part of the furniture here. I know where the drinks are.”

Just as the pre-game commentary wrapped up, everyone settled into their spots. Jake pulled you onto the couch next to him, his hand resting lightly on your knee—another not-so-subtle reminder of his presence.

As kickoff loomed, the tension between the two boys at your sides remained. It wasn’t outright hostile, but it was there, simmering beneath the surface. And you? You were more than happy to sit in the middle of it all, enjoying every second of their silent battle for your attention.

Heeseung leans forward, gesturing animatedly with his beer as the pre-game analysis plays on the screen. “Look, I don’t wanna hear anything from you guys,” he starts, his voice carrying over the chatter in the room. “Saquon had the best season of his career. You can’t argue that. And the Eagles? They deserve this.”

You take a sip of your drink, barely listening until you hear Sunghoon scoff from the couch.

“Yeah, Saquon had the best season of his career,” Sunghoon drawls, shifting to rest his elbow on his knee, “for a team that isn’t the Giants.” His tone is just short of bitter, but the unimpressed look on his face seals it. “They don’t deserve shit.”

“Maybe,” Jake finally speaks up, his voice low, but carrying the weight of a rivalry that’s been simmering for years. “But if you ask me, they’ve still got nothing on the Chiefs.” He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, his focus entirely on Sunghoon now.

Sunghoon turns his head slowly, his gaze cold but measured. “Really? You think they can actually win it this year?” His lips curl into a slight smirk, the kind that’s just enough to test Jake's patience.

Jake doesn’t flinch, though. Instead, he grins, a sharp, knowing smile. “Better than the Eagles. Chiefs have the heart, man. You’ll see.”

The tension hangs between them, but it’s a different kind of tension now. Less hatred and more something familiar. Old rivalry with new ground to stand on. For a brief moment, you feel like they might just find their way back to being those old friends, the ones who used to laugh and trash-talk without the weight of everything that’s happened between them.

But then Sunghoon throws an arm over the back of the couch—right behind you, fingers brushing your shoulder, and whatever moment they just had evaporates instantly. Because Jake immediately notices. And he’s not about to let that slide.

Casually—almost too casually—he shifts, resting his palm on your knee. His thumb brushes the exposed skin there, barely enough to be anything, but enough to be something. You glance between them, feeling the shift in the air.

Sunghoon, unbothered as ever, just takes another sip of his beer, gaze fixed on the screen like he doesn’t feel Jake’s stare burning holes into him. Jake, on the other hand, keeps his focus straight ahead, jaw tight. And you? You just sit there, stuck between them, sipping your drink like you don’t feel their silent battle for dominance happening on your body.

The moment the Eagles score another touchdown, Heeseung shoots up from his seat like a rocket, nearly knocking over the bowl of chips on the table.

“LET’S GOOOOOOO!” he yells, arms stretched wide, face pure smugness. “JALEN HURTS IS HIM! MAHOMES WHO? I’VE NEVER HEARD OF THAT MAN IN MY LIFE!”

Beomgyu, slouched dramatically in his seat like he just received life-altering news, glares at Heeseung with unfiltered rage. “Bro, shut the fuck up. You’re acting like you even know ball.”

“I do know ball,” Heeseung shoots back, hands on his hips now, chest puffed like he personally threw the touchdown. “And you know what else I know? Jalen Hurts is CLEARLY better than Mahomes. Better QB, better team, better haircut—”

Beomgyu sits up so fast it’s like his soul re-entered his body. “Oh yeah? Well, Mahomes could—” He pauses, eyes darting around as his brain short-circuits. “—Mahomes could beat Jalen in a sword fight.”

Silence.

Even Heeseung looks momentarily thrown off. “A…sword fight?”

“Yeah,” Beomgyu says, doubling down like the absolute menace he is. “Mahomes has that wrist power, bro. Think about it. You ever see that man throw across his body? Now imagine him with a sword.”

The room collectively loses it. Jay actually wheezes. Sunghoon nearly chokes on his drink. Even Jungwon, who’s been silent for most of the game, shakes his head in pure disappointment.

Jake, however, is not laughing. At all. He’s sitting there, arms crossed, jaw clenched so tight you’d think his teeth might shatter. “This is actually disgusting,” he mutters. “Zero points. Zero. We’re getting cooked.”

Sunghoon, for once, nods in agreement. “Embarrassing.”

Jake glances at him. Sunghoon glances back. And in that moment, their mutual disdain turns into something far more powerful—mutual suffering.

“This defense is non-existent,” Jake continues, shaking his head. “Like, where the fuck is Chris Jones?”

“Right?” Sunghoon huffs. “And why are they not running the damn ball?”

“Dude, I was thinking the same thing,” Jake mutters, leaning in slightly. “And Mahomes keeps trying to force deep shots that aren’t even there.”

Sunghoon nods again, mirroring Jake’s energy now. “If they don’t get points before halftime, I swear—”

“They HAVE to,” Jake interrupts, his frustration now indistinguishable from Sunghoon’s.

From where you’re sitting—smack between them—you can feel the tension between their bodies shift. It’s no longer hostile. No longer cold. They’re in sync. Complaining. Critiquing. Agreeing. Like they’re supposed to.

Like they used to.

And even though they’re completely ignoring your existence, you can’t bring yourself to mind. Because this? This is good.

You glance across the room to Jungwon, who’s watching the entire scene unfold, seated next to Jay. He meets your eyes, then tilts his head toward Jake and Sunghoon, eyebrows raised slightly. You shrug. He smiles.

And just like that, it almost feels like everything is falling into place.

For now.

The room buzzes with anticipation as the stadium lights dim. The opening beats of Alright hit like a shockwave, and suddenly, the energy shifts. Jake and Sunghoon, who had been stewing in their shared misery, straighten in their seats, eyes locked on the screen. Then, almost in sync, they spring to their feet.

“OH, SHIT—” Jake yells, immediately jumping to his feet.

Sunghoon is right behind him, eyes wide, a rare grin spreading across his face. “Nah, this is about to be crazy.”

They’re both locked in, eyes glued to the screen, rapping along with Kendrick like the past twenty minutes of suffering never even happened. And just like that, they’re completely absorbed—every frustration about the game momentarily forgotten as Kendrick Lamar commands the stage.

Jake mouths the words effortlessly, nodding to the beat, while Sunghoon raps along with so much confidence you’d think he was personally featured on the track. By the time DNA. starts, the entire room is moving. Even Jay, who usually keeps his reactions in check, is bobbing his head, rapping under his breath.

Then, out of nowhere, Sunghoon turns to Jake, squinting in suspicion. “Wait—weren’t you Team Drake?”

Jake freezes mid-head nod. Slowly, he turns to Sunghoon, face contorted like he just got personally insulted. “Are you dumb?”

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow. “I swear you were a hardcore Drake fan.”

Jake gestures wildly toward the TV, where Kendrick is absolutely going off. “Yeah, I used to bump old Drake. But obviously I’m Team Kendrick. I have taste.”

Before Sunghoon can respond, Taehyun, who had been relatively quiet most of the night, suddenly starts rapping word for word. Like—flawless execution. Perfect cadence. No hesitation. The entire room turns to stare at him, completely dumbfounded.

Even Jay looks impressed. “Damn. You really went off just now.”

Taehyun barely blinks. “It’s Kendrick. You think I’d come unprepared?”

Before anyone can react to that flex, the instrumental shifts. A slow, deep bass creeps in, and SZA’s unmistakable voice floats through the speakers. The moment Luther starts, the atmosphere changes. The wild energy from the rap performances fades into something smoother, something that settles into everyone’s skin. The kind of song that makes you feel something.

Jake doesn’t even hesitate. Without a word, his hands slide around your waist, pulling you back into him.

Your breath catches slightly, but you don’t resist. Instead, you let yourself sink into his chest, the heat of his body wrapping around you. His grip is firm but easy, his thumbs brushing soft circles over your sides. It’s intimate. Subtle. A moment meant just for the two of you.

From across the room, Sunghoon watches.

His beer lingers halfway to his lips, forgotten, as his gaze settles on the way Jake holds you. The way your head tilts just slightly against Jake’s shoulder, the way Jake’s fingers flex around your waist like he’s making sure you’re real.

It’s the same feeling he had at the party. The same quiet observation. The same pull.

Meanwhile, Jake leans down, lips brushing against your ear. His voice is low, barely above a whisper.

“Meet me in the kitchen when this is over.”

The words send a shiver down your spine. It’s not just what he says—it’s how he says it. Low. Intentional. The kind of tone that makes your skin prickle with anticipation. Your fingers tighten slightly around his arm in response. Just enough to let him know you heard him.

But before anything else can happen—

“OH MY FUCKING GOD.”

Beomgyu’s scream is so loud it nearly drowns out the music. The entire room whips toward the TV, and what they see does not make sense.

Because there, standing on the sidelines of the Super Bowl halftime show, is—

“NIKI?!” Heeseung practically yells.

The camera pans across the crowd, and sure enough, Niki is right there, just casually vibing with John Cena, Yeonjun, and—

“WAIT—IS THAT TAYLOR SWIFT?!” Soobin screeches.

The reaction is instant chaos.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Beomgyu shouts, grabbing his head like he’s in physical pain.

“WHY IS HE WITH TAYLOR SWIFT?” Heeseung demands.

Jake is just staring at the screen, mouth open. “What the fuck is going on?”

Beomgyu throws his arms in the air, voice cracking. “WHY IS THIS OUR FRIEND? WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING?”

No one has an answer. And frankly, no one cares. Because at this point, reality doesn’t even matter. The only thing that does? The fact that Niki is somehow, someway, living a life no one will ever understand.

The chaos from the living room finally settles, leaving behind an electric buzz of excitement and lingering shock over whatever the hell Niki was doing at the Super Bowl. But Jake? Jake has other things on his mind.

Without a word, he stands, stretches like he’s just casually shaking off the loss, and heads toward the kitchen. No one really notices—except for Sunghoon.

Sunghoon, who has barely spoken since that moment behind the couch. Sunghoon, whose sharp gaze follows Jake’s every move as he disappears around the corner. And then, a moment later, follows you, watching in silence as you rise from your seat and slip out of the room.

When you step into the kitchen, the house feels different—quieter, softer. The sounds of the halftime show still echo faintly, but here, it’s just you. You and the weight of anticipation pressing against your ribs.

You push open the pantry door. The moment you step inside, Jake is there. Before you can say a word, before you can even breathe, his hands are on your waist, pulling you in, and his mouth crashes against yours.

You barely have time to register it, the sheer urgency of it all sending a shockwave through you. His grip is firm, fingers digging into your hips like he needs to feel you. Like he can’t stand a single inch of space between you.

You gasp against his lips, caught off guard but not unwilling. Not even close. Because as soon as the initial surprise fades, something inside you ignites. You kiss him back just as fiercely, your hands finding his shoulders, his jaw, anywhere you can touch. His lips move against yours with a desperation that makes your knees weak, makes heat coil low in your stomach.

When he presses you back against the pantry shelves, knocking into a box of cereal that almost topples over, you barely even notice. It’s hot. It’s needy. It’s so Jake.

You pull back just enough to catch your breath, chest rising and falling fast. His forehead rests against yours, his breath hot against your lips.

“What the hell was that?” you ask, a little breathless, a little dazed.

Jake exhales a laugh, his hands still gripping your waist, thumbs brushing slow, teasing circles over your skin. “Needed a little consolation for watching the Chiefs get absolutely embarrassed on national television.”

You raise a brow, still catching your breath. “And this was the best idea you came up with?”

He smirks. “Seemed like a solid plan.”

You hum, tilting your head like you’re considering it. “You know,” you murmur, voice dropping just slightly, “there are other ways I could console you.”

Jake stills. His grip on you tightens, just barely, but you feel it. The way his fingers flex against your skin. The way his breath hitches just slightly. His eyes flick down to your lips, then back up to meet yours. Dark. Heated.

“Oh yeah?” His voice is low, rough around the edges. “Like what?”

You don’t answer. You just kiss him. But this time, it’s different.

You take your time, letting your lips brush his, slow and teasing, just enough to leave him wanting. And it works, because Jake exhales sharply, like he’s losing his patience, like he needs more. So when he kisses you back, it’s almost punishing.

He presses you further against the shelves, his hands sliding up, fingers tracing the shape of your ribs, your waist, like he wants to memorize the way you feel. His lips part against yours, deepening the kiss, and when his tongue brushes against yours, you swear you feel it everywhere. It’s dizzying. It’s addictive.

The air in the pantry is thick. Heavy. Charged with something neither of you want to name.

Jake’s hands are still on you, his breath still warm against your lips, and the weight of his body pressing you against the shelves makes it impossible to think about anything else.

Until the door creaks open. Both of you freeze. A shadow fills the narrow doorway, and then—

“Oh, shit. My bad.”

Sunghoon.

Standing there, blinking at the two of you like he just realized what he walked in on. Jake doesn’t move an inch, body still pressed against yours, but his head snaps toward the door, eyes narrowing immediately. “You have to be kidding me.”

Sunghoon holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Relax. I was just looking for some salt.”

Jake lets out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “For what?”

“A tequila shot.” Sunghoon says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker over you—your swollen lips, the way Jake is still practically caging you in. His expression doesn’t change much, but you see it. The knowing glint in his gaze.

Jake scoffs. “Yeah, okay. Sure.”

And then—without warning—Sunghoon steps inside. You barely have time to react before the door swings shut behind him.

Now, the pantry is even smaller, the three of you packed together in a space that suddenly feels suffocating. Your pulse spikes.

Because Sunghoon doesn’t just stand by the door. He moves closer. Not enough to touch you, not yet, but enough that you feel him there. His presence, his body heat.

The tension is a living, breathing thing between you all.

You swallow hard, trying to shake off the static running up your spine. “You guys need to stop fighting over me,” you say, breaking the silence. Your voice comes out steadier than you expected. “There’s no point.”

Sunghoon huffs a soft laugh. “Yeah? Try telling him that.”

Jake rolls his eyes. “You’re the one who just invited yourself, dude.”

Sunghoon shrugs, but his gaze stays locked onto yours. “Doesn’t change the fact that we both want you.” His voice is lower now, slower. “So, really, what’s there to stop?”

Your breath catches. Because the way he says it—like it’s inevitable, like there’s nothing either of them can do to change it—it does something to you.

Jake, on the other hand, just snorts, the corner of his mouth tugging up slightly. “At least we know you like to watch.”

You tense. Sunghoon doesn’t react at first, but you catch the subtle shift in his expression. The way his lips twitch, just slightly, like he’s considering something.

Then, he tilts his head. “You saying you don’t?”

Jake’s smirk falters—just for a second. But that second is enough. Sunghoon notices. You notice. Jake exhales sharply, jaw clenching for half a beat before he looks away, as if that alone will make the tension disappear.

It doesn’t.

Sunghoon shifts then, closing the distance just a little more. His voice is almost amused when he speaks again, but there’s an edge to it. “Does Jake know what happened last night?”

Your whole body tenses.

Jake stiffens slightly against you. “What are you talking about?”

You don’t say anything. Because you can’t. Because the way Sunghoon is watching you—like he already knows the answer, like he’s relishing in the fact that Jake doesn’t—has your brain short-circuiting.

Sunghoon hums, tilting his head, eyes flickering between you and Jake. “Maybe it would’ve been more fun if you were in the middle,” he muses, voice deceptively casual. “But I don’t mind sharing.”

The words send a sharp jolt of electricity straight through you. You don’t even get a chance to process them before Sunghoon moves again. This time, he’s right there, his chest nearly pressing into your side, while Jake is still solid behind you. Trapped. Between them.

Jake doesn’t move away. Doesn’t react. Just watches.

And then—Sunghoon leans in, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “You don’t mind either, do you?”

Your eyes flutter shut.

And then, as if your body isn’t already seconds away from betraying you, you feel it. Sunghoon’s lips pressing against the curve of your jaw. Slow. Deliberate. Your breath hitches. He doesn’t stop there.

The next kiss lands just beneath your ear, softer this time, barely there. Then, lower—trailing down, down, until his lips brush against the side of your neck. And just like before, Jake doesn’t stop him. He lets it happen.

And the realization nearly makes you dizzy. Because you’re not sure which is worse. The fact that Sunghoon is doing this. Or the fact that Jake is letting him.

Jake exhales through his nose, slow and measured, before his hands tighten around your waist. He pulls you back against him, fitting you flush to his chest, his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck.

Then, his lips press against your pulse point—hot, deliberate. You shudder. And he feels it.

You know he does, because his grip on your hips tightens, and his voice drops when he murmurs, “Do you like this?” Another kiss. This time, his teeth graze your skin, making your breath catch. “Or do you just want me?”

The question barely registers, because Sunghoon doesn’t let you answer.

His lips are still on you, trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your jaw. His tongue flicks against your skin, teasing, and then his teeth—just barely. You whimper. Jake exhales sharply behind you.

Sunghoon chuckles, low and smug, not pulling away. “C’mon,” he drawls, voice smooth as silk. “It’s a simple question, Y/N.” He presses another kiss to your neck, lingering there for a moment. “Who’s the nicest?”

Your fingers tighten around the fabric of Jake’s shirt. You tilt your head slightly, giving Sunghoon more access, and his lips curve against your skin. Jake notices.

“The nicest guy?” you murmur, your voice breathless. “Is there even a right answer?”

Sunghoon huffs out a quiet laugh, shifting even closer, if that’s even possible. “Guess you’ll have to find out.”

Jake scoffs behind you, but doesn’t pull away. If anything, his hold on you firms. “This is insane,” he mutters, lips brushing against the back of your ear. “You do realize that, right?”

Sunghoon smirks. “And yet, you’re still here.”

Jake doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t argue. Doesn’t move.

Instead, he just huffs, jaw tight. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

Sunghoon hums. “You’re not?”

Jake doesn’t answer immediately. His hands move, sliding lower over your hips, his thumbs brushing your waistline. You feel his breath against your skin, heavy and warm. Sunghoon waits. Watching.

And then, quietly—like he doesn’t really want to admit it—Jake mutters, “I didn’t say that.”

Sunghoon grins. And you swear, you can feel the shift in the air.

Sunghoon doesn’t pull away. Not completely. His lips brush the corner of your mouth—just barely, just enough to make you chase him. But the second you lean in, he tilts his head back, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Did you ask Jake if you can kiss me?” he murmurs, eyes glinting with amusement.

Your lips part slightly, and then, slowly, you smirk. Jake shifts behind you. “Do you want to?” His voice is lower now, raspier.

You turn your head just enough to meet his gaze. “Can I?”

Jake exhales sharply through his nose, tongue swiping over his bottom lip before he tilts his head. Then, smoothly, he says, “Only if you want to, princess.”

Your stomach flips. You don’t even get a chance to process the way your pulse spikes, because the second you turn back to Sunghoon, leaning in—

Shouts erupt from the living room. Loud, excited. The unmistakable sound of a game back in full force.

Sunghoon takes a step back, running a hand through his hair, exhaling like he knew this would happen. “Guess that’s our cue.” He gives you a lingering look before glancing at Jake. Then, with an infuriating smirk, he mutters, “We’ll finish this after the game.”

And then he walks out. Leaving just you and Jake. Still standing there. Still reeling.

Your eyes meet his, and for a moment, neither of you say anything.

Then you both laugh.

Soft, breathless. Like you just did something insane.

Jake shakes his head, exhaling through his nose, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “And here I was thinking you were the quiet type.”

Your lips curl. “And here I was thinking you were good at reading people.”

Jake grins, stepping closer, just for a second, just enough to catch you off guard. Then, before you can react, he leans in and presses a soft, lingering kiss against your lips. Not rushed. Not urgent. Just something.

And then, just as smoothly, he pulls away, shooting you one last smirk before disappearing out the door.

The game is over. And it’s a disaster. For Jake, at least.

The Eagles won. By a lot. And while Sunghoon is pissed because he hates the Eagles, he’s nowhere near as devastated as Jake, who’s staring blankly at the TV like his entire world just crumbled. Next to him, Beomgyu looks equally wrecked.

Which, of course, means Heeseung is having the time of his life.

“Damn,” Heeseung drawls, stretching lazily as he leans back against the couch. “You know, I tried to warn you guys. Jalen Hurts clears Mahomes. Every time.”

Beomgyu immediately turns his head, eyes wide with betrayal. “You’re really talking right now? He lost to the Chiefs like two years ago!”

Taehyun, sitting beside Heeseung, snickers. “I mean, Heeseung's got a point.”

“Oh, shut up, Taehyun!” Beomgyu whirls on him. “You’re only saying that because you were a Hurts fan before it was cool.”

Soobin, who has been quietly enjoying his drink on the other side of the room, finally breaks and bursts out laughing. “Dude,” he wheezes, watching as Beomgyu and Heeseung continue bickering, “you are so pressed right now.”

Meanwhile, you feel a tug at your wrist. You glance over to find Jungwon pulling you aside.

Your twin gives you a pointed look, nodding toward the door. “I’m staying at Jay and Sunghoon’s place tonight. We’re dropping Woonhak off first.”

You nod. “Alright.”

Jungwon narrows his eyes at you, lowering his voice just enough. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he warns. Then, before you can say anything, he grins. “Actually, never mind. Do something stupid. It’s funnier that way.”

You smack his arm.

Before he can retaliate, Jake appears beside you.

“I can take you home,” Jake offers, shoving his hands into his pockets. His voice is casual, but the way he glances at you from the corner of his eye gives away everything. Jake tenses beside you, shoulders going rigid, hands still shoved deep in his pockets. His jaw clenches so tight you swear you can hear his teeth grind.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, is the picture of ease—standing there with one hand gripping the back of the couch, the other lazily holding a half-empty beer bottle. He doesn’t even look at Jake. Just shifts his gaze toward you like he’s only mildly interested in the conversation.

“I can come too.”

He says it like it’s nothing. Like it’s just a casual suggestion, like he’s not doing this purely to get under Jake’s skin. And oh, it works.

Jake lets out a sharp exhale through his nose, tilting his head slightly before dragging his tongue over his teeth. He doesn’t even look at Sunghoon. Just keeps his eyes fixed ahead, like he’s counting to ten in his head, like he’s fighting the urge to say something that’ll start a whole new problem.

You glance between them, your stomach twisting—not with discomfort, but with anticipation. Because there it is again. That energy.

Jake finally speaks, voice clipped. “We’re good.”

Sunghoon hums. A soft, low sound that you can barely hear over the background noise of the party. But you hear it. Jake hears it.

The corner of Sunghoon’s mouth twitches, like he’s amused, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. And then he shrugs. “Alright.”

But he doesn’t sit back down. He doesn’t grab another drink. He doesn’t join the others, who are still laughing over Beomgyu and Heeseung’s never-ending argument.

No. He follows. You feel his presence behind you as you and Jake walk toward the door. Not saying a word. Just trailing behind. Like he has nowhere else to be.

The walk to the car is silent, but not in the comfortable way. It’s that kind of silence that feels thick with unsaid words, with tension in the air. You feel the weight of Sunghoon trailing behind you, just there, his presence like an electric current that you can’t escape.

Jake, though—Jake is close. Too close. His hand keeps brushing against your back, pulling you slightly closer to him every few steps. His fingers, warm and firm, rest on your waist for a fraction of a second, and you can’t tell if it’s accidental or deliberate. The way he moves with you, like he’s anchoring you to him, makes your head spin just a little.

When you reach Jake’s car, you lean against the door, your back pressing into the cool metal. You glance up at both of them, and in that moment, you can’t help but notice how much taller they are than you. Jake, with his broad shoulders and stance that screams confidence, and Sunghoon, with his calm, almost nonchalant presence. Both of them are standing there, looking down at you, and you’re not sure whether to feel small or intimidated.

It’s quiet again. You shift slightly, unsure of what to say, how to break the awkward silence. But Sunghoon doesn’t hesitate.

“Jake’s really bummed out about the loss,” he says, his voice casual, but his smirk is sharp, almost teasing. “You should comfort him.”

Before you can process what he means by that, Sunghoon leans in and places a quick, light kiss on the corner of your mouth. It’s so unexpected, so sudden, that it makes your breath catch.

And just like that, he straightens up, giving Jake a playful tap on the shoulder. “See you at practice tomorrow, man. Have fun,” Sunghoon adds, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he gives one last glance at you and Jake. Then, without waiting for any reaction, he turns on his heel and walks away, disappearing into the night as though the entire thing was just some casual exchange.

You stand there, blinking, a little stunned. You’re not sure how to process what just happened, how quickly it all unfolded.

Jake, on the other hand, doesn’t seem fazed at all. He smirks, his gaze flicking from Sunghoon’s retreating form to you, and without missing a beat, he opens the passenger door.

“Shall we?” he asks, his voice low, tinged with that playful confidence that always seems to make your heart race.

You hesitate for a moment, still processing everything—Sunghoon’s kiss, the tension, the way Jake has been acting around you—but then you nod. Because at this point, why not? The night is full of unexpected turns, and you’re not sure where this one will lead, but you can’t deny that you’re curious.

You slip into the passenger seat, the door shutting behind you with a soft thud, and Jake slides into the driver’s seat with a smirk that tells you, without words, that he’s very much looking forward to what comes next.

When you arrive at your house, you take a breath and unlock the door. The cool night air makes you shiver slightly, but there's a warmth inside you, a feeling of anticipation you can't shake off. You turn the handle and open the door, glancing back at Jake, who’s just a few steps behind you.

“Make yourself at home,” you say, trying to sound casual, but the words come out a little softer, a little more inviting than you intended.

Before you even have a chance to step inside, Jake is right behind you. His hands find your waist, pulling you toward him as he presses your back against the door.

Without warning, he kisses you, his lips crashing into yours with a hunger that feels like it's been building all night. You’re caught off guard for a second, but the moment he deepens the kiss, you melt into him, your hands running up his chest, your fingers tangling in his shirt.

Jake pulls back just enough to look at you, his breath ragged, his gaze intense. “I couldn’t wait anymore,” he mutters, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Needed you alone.”

Your heart races, and you smirk back, teasing, “Guess it’s about time then.”

Before you can say anything else, Jake’s lips are back on yours, and this time, they trail down your jaw, pressing soft, burning kisses against your neck. You gasp softly at the sensation, arching into him as his hands grip your waist tighter, pulling you even closer.

His voice comes out hushed, almost as if he’s fighting to keep control. “I’ve been dying for this.” His lips move to the soft spot just below your ear, and you feel every inch of him pressed against you.

Without warning, he lifts you in one smooth motion, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. The surprise causes you to gasp, but you cling to him, your hands finding his shoulders for support.

You’re pinned between Jake and the door, his body all heat and strength, and you feel his hands sliding down your back, gripping you tighter. He holds you against him as his lips return to your neck, kissing and sucking along the sensitive skin there. Your breath catches in your throat, a shiver running down your spine.

“Jake,” you breathe out, your voice shaky from the intensity of the moment. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, pulling him even closer.

Jake grins, the spark in his eyes never fading, before he presses his lips against yours again, this time even more urgently, as if he can’t get enough. The kiss is deep, intense, and you can feel every part of him. You’re breathless, lost in the moment, your heart pounding as he lifts you a little higher, pressing you against the door with a force that makes everything around you disappear.

When he pulls back just enough to speak, his voice is low and rough. “Where’s your room?” he asks, breathless.

You try to steady your heart, your chest rising and falling quickly. “Second door on the right,” you answer, barely able to form the words.

Jake doesn’t hesitate. He moves toward the hallway with you still in his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist. But as he reaches for the first door, the one you know is Jungwon’s, you quickly stop him, tugging on his shoulder.

“No, not that one!” you say urgently, making him pull back. “That’s Jungwon's.”

Jake stops, raising an eyebrow at you with a smirk. “I didn’t want to remember your brother lives here tonight,” he teases.

You laugh softly, the tension easing slightly. “Yeah, me neither,” you admit, rolling your eyes.

Jake chuckles, heading for the right door this time. He opens the door to your room easily with one hand, holding you in place with the other as he kicks it shut behind him. Without missing a beat, he walks you toward the bed, placing you gently onto it as he leans over you. The weight of him on top of you is both grounding and electric, and your heart pounds even harder.

You glance up at him, your legs still wrapped around his waist, and your chest tightens with anticipation. The silence between you is thick, but it's comfortable, and it's clear what you both want.

Jake's gaze softens for a moment, his voice low as he leans in closer. “You okay?” he asks, his hot breath brushing against your lips.

You nod, barely able to speak. "Yeah… I'm more than okay"

He smirks at you, and Jake’s lips crash against yours again, hungry, urgent. The intensity of his kiss takes your breath away, leaving you dizzy. Your hands instinctively tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on. You can feel the heat between you both, a pressure building that makes your heart race even faster. Your hands roam over his chest, feeling the muscles under his shirt, the warmth of his skin. He lets out a low groan, pulling away just enough to catch his breath.

“You’re killing me,” he mutters, but there’s a smirk on his lips, before his lips are on yours again, his kiss deeper, more insistent.

His hand slips beneath your shirt, fingertips grazing the soft skin of your waist, and you shiver under his touch. Every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire. His other hand moves to your neck, gently tilting your head back, giving him better access. He kisses your jaw, then moves down to your neck, sucking lightly, making you gasp in pleasure.

You arch into him, your legs tightening around his waist. He responds with a growl, lifting his head slightly to meet your eyes, his breath coming in short bursts. And then, in a sudden move, he pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands still gripping your waist. "Tell me you want this," he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours, almost teasing.

“I want this,” you whisper back, your voice shaky with desire.

His smirk deepens, and without saying another word, Jake’s lips are on yours again, more demanding this time, as if he’s losing himself in the moment. His hands roam over your body, tracing the curve of your waist, pulling you even closer. You can feel the weight of his desire, and it only makes the kiss more intoxicating.

You slip your hand beneath his shirt, your fingers brushing the warm skin of his chest. His breath hitches, and he responds with a growl that sends a shiver down your spine. He pauses, his lips hovering over yours, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re making this hard to keep up with,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire, his hands gripping your waist like he’s trying to hold onto some semblance of control.

You smile against his lips, teasing him just a little. “Maybe I like making you lose control.”

His eyes flash with something darker, something hungry. Without warning, he pulls away from the kiss, his hands at the hem of his shirt. “You'd like this?” he asks, his voice low, his gaze intense. He’s not asking for permission—he’s already making the decision for you.

You nod, breathless, watching him as he pulls his shirt off, revealing the muscles beneath, the definition of his chest and abs making your heart race. His eyes lock onto yours as you take him in, his gaze searching yours for something. A challenge, maybe. A question.

“You like what you see?” he asks, his voice full of teasing, his grin almost predatory.

You raise an eyebrow, an amused smirk pulling at your lips. “Maybe.”

His grin widens, clearly enjoying the teasing, his gaze burning with a mixture of challenge and desire. “What about Sunghoon?” he asks, his words coated in playful provocation. “You prefer him?”

You tilt your head, your smirk never fading. “I don’t know... I haven’t seen him like this,” you tease, your eyes flicking between his, enjoying the power shift.

Jake’s smirk falters just for a second, before he leans in close again, his lips brushing against your ear. “Well, I guess he’ll just have to get a taste of me then.”

His words send a wave of heat through you, but before you can say anything else, he moves to lift your shirt, his hands warm against your skin. “May I?” he asks, his voice lower now, a soft but commanding question. You hesitate for a moment, looking into his eyes. Then you nod, your heart beating faster as he pulls your shirt off. The moment feels like everything is falling into place, the tension building to its peak.

His eyes fall to the red lacy bra you're wearing, and a small chuckle escapes his lips. “Did you plan this?” he asks, his voice a mix of amusement and desire.

You smirk, your heart racing. “Maybe.”

And as he stares at you, the silence between you both is charged with anticipation. Jake leans in again, kissing you with the same intensity, as if the world outside doesn’t even exist. Every touch, every movement feels like it’s driving you both further into this shared moment.

But even then, his hands are gentle, patient, as if he’s savoring every second of this tension, of what’s building between you both. And in that moment, it feels like the entire universe has slowed down—just you, him, and the magnetic pull between you.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs, his voice low, thick with something that makes warmth pool in your stomach.

You bite your lip, heat creeping up your neck as his gaze dips lower. Jake’s eyes darken at the sight of your body. He reaches out, slipping his fingers beneath the hem of your skirt, brushing against your thigh. It’s barely a touch, but it sets your skin on fire.

“You’re so soft,” he whispers, his breath warm against your shoulder as he leans in, pressing a lingering kiss just beneath your jaw. He trails lower, lips ghosting over your collarbone, then lower still. His hands work the fabric of your skirt higher until it pools around your hips, exposing even more of your skin to him.

His lips find the inside of your thigh, slow and deliberate. Each kiss is featherlight, but the heat of them leaves a mark you can’t see but feel everywhere. His hands steady your hips as he presses closer, mouthing at your skin, murmuring praise between each kiss.

“So beautiful.” A kiss. “So perfect.” Another. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

You can’t think straight, not when he’s looking at you like that, not when his lips are so warm and his hands are so gentle yet firm. Every touch, every word, every heated glance makes the air between you buzz with something electric.

He lifts his head slightly, meeting your gaze, searching for something—permission, reassurance, the silent confirmation that you want this as much as he does. And you do. More than anything.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs, fingers still teasing at the edge of your skirt, eyes locked onto yours like they hold the universe. His fingers gently toying with the hem of your skirt. He looked at you, waiting for your response, unable to keep the teasing smile off his face.

“I want you, Jake…” you say in a ragged voice, and the moment the words leave your lips, you see the shift in him. His eyes darken, his breath catches, and a slow, wicked smile spreads across his face. Desire surges through him, his fingers tightening against your skin as he drinks in the sight of you.

His lips ghost over your sensitive skin, his breath warm and teasing. “Is that so?” he hums, voice laced with amusement and hunger. “Then I’ll gladly give you what you want.” His hands make quick work of your skirt, sliding it down your hips and tossing it aside. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh, then another, each one slower, more deliberate, more intoxicating.

His kisses trail higher, slow and agonizing, leaving a path of heat in their wake. His hands grip your thighs, steadying you, keeping you exactly where he wants you. He’s in no rush, savoring every reaction, every little gasp that slips from your lips.

His gaze flickers down, lingering on your red lace underwear. A slow smirk tugs at his lips as his fingers trace along the delicate fabric. “Matching,” he muses, his voice thick with appreciation. He leans in, lips brushing just above the lace, his breath hot against your skin. “You look absolutely delicious.”

“Do you like it?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jake’s grip on the fabric tightens slightly, his eyes dark with desire as he takes in the sight of you. The deep crimson lace against your skin, his favorite color—it’s almost too much. A soft groan escapes him as his fingers skim the delicate fabric, feeling its softness against his fingertips.

“Oh, I love it,” he breathes, his voice thick with arousal. His fingers toy with the edge of your underwear, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. The anticipation in your gaze makes his pulse quicken. But before he moves any further, he pauses, his expression softening slightly as he searches your face. “May I?” His voice is lower now, almost reverent.

Your nod is all he needs. Jake’s heart pounds, his excitement thrumming in his veins as he watches you give him permission. Holding your gaze, he slowly peels the fabric down, his hands trembling slightly as he slides the lace from your body.

His eyes roam over you, drinking in every inch, every curve, every perfect imperfection. Wonder flickers across his face, as if he’s seeing you for the first time. As if he can’t believe you’re his, even if just for tonight.

His lips return to your skin, trailing a path of slow, lingering kisses along your inner thighs. Each touch is deliberate, teasing, meant to drive you wild. He takes his time, savoring the way your body reacts to him, how you shift under his touch, how your breath catches in your throat.

His lips hover just above your core, his breath warm against your skin. He looks up at you, eyes dark with desire, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Do you want me to taste you, princess?” His voice is low, commanding, dripping with need.

“Jake… Fuck, yes,” you gasp, nearly trembling with anticipation.

A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face. “That’s what I wanted to hear,” he murmurs. His grip tightens on your thighs as he settles between them, his breath ghosting over your skin.

And then, with excruciating patience, he finally gives you what you’ve been aching for. Jake's warm breath ghosts over your aching core, sending a shudder through your body. Your legs tremble as you shift, fingers gripping the sheets with desperate intensity.

His tongue glides along your slick folds, tracing every inch before dipping lower. A sharp gasp escapes you as he circles your most sensitive spot, teasing the tight ring of muscle before pushing the tip of his tongue inside. The sensation sends a spark of heat straight to your core, leaving you breathless.

Slowly, he drags his tongue back up, parting you with ease before latching onto your clit. He flicks it, slow and deliberate, just to hear the way your breath stutters. He knows exactly how to unravel you.

His tongue dips into your entrance, pushing inside before pulling back, leaving a glistening trail of saliva mixed with your arousal. You're already a mess beneath him, and he hasn't even started yet. Jake devours you, his hot tongue exploring every inch of your dripping cunt, savoring you like he can’t get enough. He sucks hard, his lips sealing around you as he tilts his head from side to side, his face buried between your thighs, never giving you a moment to breathe.

"Jake..." Your voice is barely a whisper, but he hears it—feels it in the way your body responds to him.

His tongue pushes inside you, again and again, relentless and desperate, sending sharp jolts of pleasure up your spine.

"I want you dripping for me," he rasps against your heat before diving back in, feasting on you with reckless hunger.

You're so wet that you can feel it dripping down the insides of your thighs, warm and slick against your skin. Jake pulls away from your entrance, shifting his focus back to your aching, desperate clit. He captures it between his lips and sucks hard, releasing you with a wet, obscene pop. The sound alone sends a fresh wave of heat through your body. He repeats the motion, but this time, before sucking again, he drags his tongue over the sensitive tip, teasing it with slow, deliberate strokes while keeping it trapped between his lips.

He buries his face deeper between your thighs, pulling you against his mouth like he never wants to let go. All you can do is moan—loud, needy—while he devours you, moving his head up and down, side to side, his tongue relentless, his mouth unforgiving.

You come undone against his tongue, body trembling, your pleasure spilling into his mouth. And he doesn’t stop. His movements slow, his tongue gliding over every inch of you, licking up every drop of your release as if he’s savoring it.

"You're addictive, you know that?" His voice is low, rough with hunger, as he presses soft kisses to the insides of your thighs, nipping at your skin before leaving one last, lingering suck against your swollen cunt. Then, he drags himself up your body, eyes dark and lips parted, still wet with you.

"You're so fucking sweet," he murmurs, voice thick with desire. You shudder as his fingers trail down your hip, finding your slick heat with ease. "And so wet..."

He brushes the tips of his fingers over your entrance, barely touching you, yet it’s enough to make you whimper. A smirk tugs at his lips as he catches your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down before pulling away with just enough force to leave you breathless.

"Jake, please..." He leans down, pressing soft, teasing kisses along your jawline, his voice a low, satisfied purr beneath your ear.

"Please what, princess?" he murmurs, making you whimper in anticipation. When you don’t answer right away, he lets out a quiet chuckle against your neck. "What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?"

Then, he rolls his hips against your soaked folds, the hard outline of his cock pressing right where you need him most. A breathy moan escapes you, your fingers gripping onto his waist.

"Take this off," you demand, tugging at the waistband of his pants. His lips curl into a cocky smirk as he slowly pulls away, rising to his knees in front of you. Without breaking eye contact, he unbuttons his pants at an agonizing pace, his gaze heavy, teasing. And when he finally pushes them down, your eyes drop to the thick outline straining against his boxers, your body instinctively moving closer.

But before you can reach for him, his fingers wrap around your chin, tilting your face up to meet his eyes. "And what do you think you're about to do, huh?" His voice is deep, dripping with amusement. You bite your lip, looking up at him, unable to find the words.

Jake tilts his head, watching you closely. "You’re gonna have to tell me, princess. Do you want to suck my dick?" His tone is dark, commanding, and when you nod, his smirk only deepens.

"Yeah, that’s not happening. Not tonight." His grip tightens just enough to make your breath hitch. "Because I need to be inside you right now."

A moan slips from your lips, the sheer authority in his voice sending a rush of heat straight through you.

Jake leans in, closing the distance, capturing your mouth in a feverish, desperate kiss as he gently but firmly pushes you back onto the bed. His hands waste no time sliding down his body, and with agonizing slowness, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of his underwear, peeling them off inch by inch.

You’re left breathless as he kneels between your legs, his sculpted body bathed in the dim light, every muscle defined, every inch of him unbearably perfect. He catches the way your lips part, the way your eyes drink him in, and he lets out a low, knowing chuckle.

A wicked smirk tugs at his lips as he wraps a hand around his rigid length, guiding the swollen tip to your soaked entrance. He drags it slowly along your slick folds, teasing you, spreading your wetness over himself with deliberate precision.

"This what you want?" he murmurs, pressing just the tip inside, barely stretching you open before pulling back. A whimper escapes you, frustration mixing with pleasure. "Tell me, princess," he coaxes, teasing you again—just the tip, just enough to drive you insane.

"Fuck, yes!" you curse when he presses his cock against your throbbing clit, gliding it between your dripping folds before stopping at your entrance once more.

Jake exhales sharply, shaking his head to get rid of the strands of hair falling into his eyes. And then, finally, he pushes in, slowly sinking his entire length inside you. Inch by inch, he stretches you open, filling you completely, letting you feel every bit of him.

His movements are unhurried, savoring the way your body molds to him, the way you take him so perfectly. His abs tighten with every slow thrust, his muscles flexing under the dim light as he sets a steady, intoxicating rhythm that has you both moaning softly.

He doesn’t speed up, doesn’t change his pace. Instead, he leans in, capturing your lips in a deep, languid kiss. Your body melts against his, every inch of you consumed by the way he moves inside you—deep, deliberate, relentless.

"You have no idea how much I wanted to hear you moaning for me," he rasps, his voice thick with arousal. The moment his words sink in, your walls clench around him, and he groans, head dropping to your shoulder. "Fuck, don’t squeeze me like that," he growls.

Your hands find his face, pulling him into another messy, desperate kiss, your bodies moving together in perfect sync. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, licking up the thin layer of sweat that coats your skin before biting down on your shoulder—just enough to make you whimper.

He knows exactly what he's doing.

"Let me ride you," you plead, your voice unsteady, barely above a whisper.

Jake doesn’t hesitate. He pulls out of you with a low grunt, sitting back against the bed, legs spread, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

Your eyes trail over him—the way his thick cock pulses against his abs, the sheen of sweat on his tanned skin. Your core clenches at the sight, and without another thought, you crawl toward him.

"Anything you want," he murmurs, tapping his thigh twice. "Come here." You obey, straddling his lap, gripping the base of his cock before aligning it with your entrance. "Sit on it nice and slow for me, baby," he urges, voice dark and filled with desire.

You sink down onto him, taking him inch by inch, swallowing his deep, guttural moan as his hands grip your ass, guiding you through every movement.

You ride his cock, rolling your hips until you find the perfect rhythm, bouncing on his thick length that stretches you so deliciously. Jake meets your movements, thrusting up in sync with you, making everything even more intense.

"Fuck, you're so hot," he growls, landing a sharp slap on your ass. A needy moan escapes your lips, and he chuckles darkly, delivering another one. "You like this, huh?" Another slap. "You like getting spanked… you like it when Sunghoon watches. You're not as innocent as I thought."

His words make you clench around him, and he groans under you, biting the corner of his lips as you quicken your pace. His head falls back, his jaw tightening as he sinks his teeth into his lower lip. Slowing your movements, you grind against him, teasing him.

"Fuck—" he curses, frustration lacing his voice.

His hands grip your waist as he notices the way your thighs begin to tremble from exhaustion. He takes control, thrusting up into you with deep, powerful strokes that leave you gasping and gripping his shoulders.

"A-ah… just like that!" you cry out, your body trembling from the force of his thrusts. He pounds into you, hitting all the right spots over and over again.

"You're so fucking tight," he groans. Your eyes rake over his body—his toned arms and sculpted abs, flexing with every movement. His dark, slightly damp hair clings to his forehead, and his parted lips spill out the most sinful moans. His eyes, darker than ever, squeeze shut as he tilts his head back, consumed by pleasure. Jake is pure perfection.

Your walls flutter around him, signaling the orgasm building deep inside you. Sensing it, Jake tightens his grip on your waist, holding you still as he thrusts up harder, deeper. "Ah—Jake! This feels so good…!"

"I know, princess. I know…" Your moans mix with his, and as the pressure within you finally explodes, you let out a sharp cry. "Cum for me, baby," he groans, voice rough and desperate. "You're squeezing me so tight, fuck—"

With his words, you unravel completely, your orgasm crashing over you in waves. Your body trembles uncontrollably, the overwhelming pleasure sending sparks through your veins. Your pussy clenches around him, milking his cock as he continues to guide your movements, his hands gripping your ass firmly.

"Baby…" you whimper.

Jake groans, his muscles tensing beneath you. His cock throbs inside you before warmth floods your core as he spills deep inside. His mouth parts in a silent moan, his eyes squeezing shut, his entire body shuddering as he rides out his release.

Breathing heavily, he lets his head fall forward, forehead pressing against yours.

"Angel," he whispers, still catching his breath. Your bodies remain connected, neither of you willing to move just yet. You take the opportunity to kiss him—slow, lingering—your fingers trailing along his sharp jawline, nails scratching his skin softly.

Completely spent, you collapse onto his chest. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer, letting you rest your head over his heart. His fingers brush gently over your cheek, his touch soothing. "How can you be this perfect?" he murmurs.

Your chest rises and falls rapidly, still recovering. “You’re driving me insane, Jake…” you manage between deep breaths. He chuckles, scrunching his nose.

"You’re the one driving me insane, love." His fingers move to your hair, stroking it softly. Your body relaxes against him, sinking into his warmth. "Feeling better now?" he asks.

You smile, tilting your head up to look at him. "If every time we watch an NFL game together ends like this, I might start watching more often."

He grins, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"I wouldn't mind that at all," he muses, eyes locked onto yours, deep and captivating. "But next time, you better bring luck to the Chiefs."

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author's note: SO...... THAT HAPPENED..... LMAOOOOO ok so this was the very first smut scene i've ever written so.... hope u guys like it and ALSO im sorry i took this long to post it, it's because i've been really busy these past few days and i was struggling very hard writing it so. anyway!!!! here it is. HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY EVERYONE

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[dulcescorderitas]

let me love you like a woman

parings: sam winchester x reader

song: let me love you like a woman by lana del rey

warnings: 18+, smut

from a small town, how 'bout you?

sam winchester wasn’t used to softness.

not real softness, not the kind that lingers in the morning light, stretching across sheets that smell like love and laughter. not the kind that curls up next to you on the couch, fingers tracing patterns on his skin, not asking for anything, just being there.

he had known the rough kind of love. the kind edged in fire and regret, love that felt more like a fight for survival than something you could rest in. jess had been soft, once. but even that had been haunted, because he had known—even if he hadn’t admitted it to himself, he had known—that it wouldn’t last.

but you—God, you were something different.

i only mention it 'cause i'm ready to leave l.a.

he found you in some nowhere town, the kind that didn’t have a name worth remembering. you’d been working in a bar, slinging drinks and dodging grabby hands with the kind of practiced ease that told him you’d been doing it too damn long. he hadn’t been looking for anything when he met you. hadn’t been ready.

but love doesn’t give a damn if you’re ready. it just happens.

one night turned into two. two turned into something more. and before he knew it, he was coming back to you after every hunt, like gravity had tied itself to his ribs and dragged him home.

home.

it still felt strange to think of it that way.

and i want you to come

he didn’t talk about the past much. you never pushed. you let him tell you things in pieces, in half-whispered confessions at two a.m. when the nightmares made his breath come short and shallow.

you learned about ruby first, because that wound was still fresh. the betrayal. the blood. the way he had let himself become something he wasn’t sure he could ever undo.

jess came later, and it wrecked him in a way he hadn’t expected. he could barely get the words out, hands shaking as he told you about her, about the way he had loved her, about how she had burned.

and the other women—well.

there had been other women.

sam winchester was a man who carried grief like a second skin, and sometimes, the only way to drown it out was to feel something else.

but none of them had been you.

you weren’t a distraction. you weren’t an escape. you were real. and that terrified him more than anything else.

80 miles north or south will do

one night, lying in bed with your head on his chest, you told him you wanted to leave. not forever. just for a while.

“pick a direction,” you murmured, tracing circles over his heart. “north or south?”

“doesn’t matter,” he said, voice rough with sleep. “as long as you’re there.”

and he meant it.

God, he meant it.

i don't care where, as long as you're with me

you didn’t leave right away. life never worked like that. there were hunts to finish, loose ends to tie up. but every time sam came back to you, every time he held you close, he felt something settle inside him.

he still had nightmares. still woke up some nights gasping for breath, the weight of his past pressing down on his chest like something tangible.

but you were always there. always whispering his name in that soft, steady voice. always pulling him back.

let me love you like a woman

one night, he broke.

not in a dramatic way. not in a way that made noise.

he just let go.

let you hold him. let you see him—all of him. the broken pieces, the sharp edges, the parts of himself he had spent years trying to hide.

and you stayed.

let me hold you like a baby

you didn’t try to fix him. didn’t tell him it would be okay. you just loved him.

and for the first time in his life, sam winchester let himself believe that was enough.

he was quiet that night, his body wound tight like a coiled spring. the hunt had been rough. not the kind where blood was spilled, but the kind that left an ache somewhere deeper. a child had died. a mother had screamed. and sam had carried the weight of it all, shouldering it the way he always did, like it was his burden to bear alone.

but you weren’t having it.

“let me take care of you,” you whispered against his jaw, lips ghosting over his skin. he sighed, hands flexing against your hips, fingers twitching like he wanted to pull you close and push you away at the same time.

“you don’t have to,” he murmured, but you could hear the longing beneath the protest. the way he wanted it but didn’t know how to ask.

so you didn’t make him ask.

let me shine like a diamond

you just kissed him. slow. deep. the kind of kiss that felt like unraveling a knot that had been pulled too tight. his breath hitched when your fingers slid beneath his shirt, tracing the hard planes of muscle, the scars, the story of his body written in old wounds and fresh tension.

“sam,” you breathed, pressing your forehead to his. “let me love you.”

his lips parted, a shuddering exhale slipping out, and then he melted.

let me be who i'm meant to be

he let you undress him, let you push him back onto the bed, let you kiss every inch of him like he was something sacred. his hands trembled when they found your skin, tracing up your sides, gripping your thighs as you straddled him.

“i’ve got you,” you whispered, guiding him inside you, taking him slow, taking him deep. his eyes squeezed shut, a groan ripping from his throat as he sank into you, as your body wrapped around him like something holy.

talk to me in poems and songs

“God,” he choked out, his hands grasping at your hips like he didn’t know how to hold on properly, like he was afraid to break you.

but you wanted to be his anchor. you rode him slow, deliberate, watching the tension bleed out of his shoulders with every roll of your hips. you kissed the furrow from his brow, whispered his name like it was a prayer, like he was worth worshiping.

don't make me bittersweet

and when he finally came undone beneath you, gasping your name like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth, you held him through it.

pressed kisses to his temple. ran your fingers through his hair.

loved him the way he deserved to be loved.

and sam winchester, for the first time in his life, let himself be loved.

let me love you like a woman

taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis @whisperingdaze @cherrygirlfriend @figthoughts @sunsbaby @ambiguous-avery @sunnyteume @starzify

[writingwisterias]

All of me for All of you

DI!Leon Kennedy x AFAB! Fem! Reader Warnings: SMUT, MNDI, Fluff, Friends - Lovers, Insecurities, Oral (F- receiving), Praise Kink, Slight Breeding kink ;), Unprotected sex, Summary: He was always the best at surprising you Words: 2.8k Happy valentines day! I know I said it would be a drabble but I'm starting to think I don't actually know what the word is. Stay safe tonight if you do have plans! and hope you all have fun ;))

It was probably better for you that he cancelled instead of waiting in the restaurant for the dickhead to show up with some cheap chocolates and dying flowers in exchange for sex. Dating was hard enough these days, with all of the apps being used for a quick fuck instead of a meaningful connection. Did that not matter to anyone anymore? The idea of a relationship with someone who felt like your best friend seemed like a distant dream at this point. 

Instead, tonight you were sitting in your apartment with a glass of wine and some expensive chocolate you treated yourself to. It just always felt so sad spending the one holiday that is meant for people to declare their love to each other like this. To make matters worse you were the only one alone today, you couldn’t even have a galentines day since their dates didn’t decide to cancel. The only person you knew that was free was Leon. A recent edition in your life after joining his workplace. Your relationship progressed quickly into best friend status as your skills worked well together, trusting each other almost immediately. Humor even more so. 

The ideal couple if the office had anything to do with it. You wouldn’t be yourself by ignoring the blossoming crush you had on him. After all he was the office heart throb there were many others that felt the same. Yet, with his lack of text today you assumed he was slumped in some bar or busy on a mission. Too busy to deal with you stewing in your self worth. 

The rom-com playing in the background did nothing to improve your mood, only adding to the sense of loneliness that suffocated your brain. You hadn’t realised how sad it felt being alone when there were so many people booking up the restaurant spaces. To make a bad evening worse you couldn’t even get a takeaway dinner because of all ‘Love day’ deals. 

Leon however had remembered the brief comment you made yesterday about the date cancellation. The backpack he was wearing was full of dinner supplies, wanting to make sure that at least you had something to make you feel better. Did he have a date because you had one? Yes. Did he cancel it because yours was cancelled? Also yes. 

Perhaps this is just the life of someone smitten. It took him a while to even gather the courage to ask you on a date, spending days calculating every moment of it so he could finally admit how he felt only for you to crush it by showing a picture of sir dickhead. His plans ruined and replaced with some woman he found that same night at least then he wouldn’t be alone he thought. Hopefully you’ll settle for some homemade pizzas as the poor guy couldn’t even get the shop bought ones in the frozen section. 

The knock at your door surprised you more than anything, scrambling the mountain of blankets you had on the sofa for your phone in case you missed a text. He could hear your feet thudding to the door. Leon stood in the doorway, rocking on his feet as you turned each lock but the nerves settled quickly when he caught a look at your adorable face. You were wrapped in a blanket, hair down and messy, the house highlighted by the soft glow of the fairy light he helped hang up a few weeks ago. It felt like you, a ball of warmth. 

“Happy valentines day?” He chuckled holding out the squashed flowers from where they were crushed in his backpack along with a squashed box of chocolates. He grinned as the confusion on your face was slowly wiped into a happy expression. The corners of your mouth twinging upwards slightly until it finally broke into a fill on grin. “Leon, what are you doing here? I thought you had a date or something?” You questioned, stepping aside anyway to allow him to enter. He placed the flowers and chocolate on the table, his jacket finding the spot you reserved for it on the hanger by the door. “It..uh…got cancelled? Anyway, no point in us being lonely” He spoke. 

The backpack landed on the table with a thud before he started to unpack it. Various pizza toppings, bags of many types of cheeses. “What is all this?” You asked, picking up a few items trying to correlate his plan. “Well I tried to pick up some pizzas but there wasn’t any. It might be fun to try and make our own, I thought” 

You could have melted in a puddle right there and then you swore as you turned to look at him. The smile he wore was genuine for a change not the forced one he often used around the office or when the team went out for drinks. He really wanted to be here with you tonight, even going as far as to conjure up a last minute plan. So with a large grin you turned to face him, rolling up the sleeves of your pjs “Guess we better get cooking I’m starving” 

Music slowly filled the kitchen, flour covering every surface as well as each other as you both shaped your pizza bases. “We should do hearts, to keep in theme” You suggested as you started to create the arches perfectly. Leon nodded, giving an attempt himself laughing at the mess. “At least we will tell each others apart,” He joked. Whilst he lacked the artist approach that yours did it was still endearing anyway, it gave it character. “I can see the attempt” You giggled, resting your chin on his shoulder as you looked at it. Leon’s breath faltered – he hadn’t expected the night to turn so domestic, to feel like a relationship with you was something he always missed. It fuels the determination inside him to correct it to ensure that no matter what he succeeds.

“Yeah well yours was always going to be perfect, everything you do is” He spoke, catching your eye briefly before turning to look at the pizza creation he was working on. It was a prime opportunity to wrap your arms around him, hold him close and just feel his warmth seep into your bones. You didn’t though; instead you reluctantly peeled away moving towards the oven to begin cooking them. It felt like time had slowed as you both waited, sitting on the counters opposite each other whilst the pizzas baked in between you too. “So how come your date cancelled on you then?” You asked him, legs thumping on the cabinets as you swung them. 

Leon shrugged he wasn’t sure if was ready yet to admit the truth, the real reason why he was here. He was currently enjoying the atmosphere. He spent time with you often breaking his rule of allowing people close, letting them worm their way into his closed off world in case they got hurt. You didn't even need to try. You just did it, made him crumble and falter; gave him an adrenaline rush of something that wasn’t fighting death. “Rather be here instead anyway” He stated. You believed him, the look in his eye told you he was content. Happy even. The beeper on the oven interrupted your own admittance, cutting the tension you had both created before it was too late. You didn’t want to ruin this. 

“How come I have the shit blanket?” He grumbled as you both curled on the sofa, the pizzas cut and ready on plates in your lap. He was letting you choose the movie today, after all he chose the last one a few weeks ago. “Because this one is my favorite” You stated eyes glued onto the screen. You were both a respectful distance away, curled up in either corner of the sofa, your legs touching slightly as you sprawled out at a diagonal. You had managed to find a cheap candle, lighting them around the tv which added to the warmth of the room. It was the perfect night in. “I like that one as well though” He whined. You knew he did, he stole it every time you got up to the bathroom, used it when he slept on your couch. It smelt like him every time he left; that's why it was your favourite. 

“Cry about it. I could have not given you one” 

It was true he supposed, he could have been left to the cold. His body moved before he thought logically about it, sliding across the couch holding his pizza carefully. Worming his way next to you under the blanket. You stiffened as he moved the pillows around to create a fake arm rest, kicking his legs out on the coffee table in front of him. He was so close, you could feel his arm brushing against yours as he moved them to bring the food to his mouth. Brushing his hand against your thigh as he rubbed the crumbs off his finger tips. 

“This pizza’s great, what a great idea. I wonder who came up with” He joked but when he turned to look at you his breath caught in his throat. You gazed at him with a soft smile, your eyes twinkling in the fairy lights. Your hand landed on his, holding it gently. “How do you want your credits?” You whispered, heart pounding as you leaned closer. Leon could feel your breath against his cheek, feel the weight of you as you leaned in closer to him. His eyes scanned you, looking for any sign that he was reading the situation wrong only to find that yours were doing the same. Waiting for the rejection from him, for him to push you away and leave you alone again. 

Leon didn’t dare, not when your lips tasted this sweet once he finally closed the gap. Your skin soft underneath his palms as he held your face and brought you close. The empty plates clattered to the floor, the sound muted as the blanket fell with them. Leon dominated you, pushing you back against the couch. “Are you sure about this?” He asked nervously, his body caged you in. His aftershave intoxicating you as you nipped at the skin of his neck. “I’m sure” You whispered against the stubble that covered his jaw. Slowly making a trail back to his lips. “I don’t want this to be a one time thing because we are lonely” 

“Good. Me neither” 

With a smirk his fingers began to slide up your pj top, helping you remove it quickly. “No bra?” He teased as he pulled one of the hardening buds in his mouth. Sucking at the flesh loudly, his tongue circling the bud with an infinity symbol flicking as he moved over it. You couldn’t even respond to him if you tried, your heart thumping as he kissed along the valley of your breasts. His fingers replacing his lips on the breast he left behind. Your fingers tugged at the strands of his hair, pulling him closer to your chest like you were trying to suffocate him with the sweet smell of lavender that lingers on you. 

You felt him smirk his teeth grazing the bud, small nibbles around the area that was soon to leave marks. He wasn’t even doing anything but devouring your breasts and it got you all hot and bothered. Your breathless moans were your only form of communication; words failing you as he continued to move south. His grip was gently – barely there as he moved his hands down to your thighs. Leon’s fingers dug into the soft flesh prying your legs apart. Your grey shorts are already displaying your eagerness to him. “Never pictured you to become this horny” He teases, his tongue moving up the insides of your thigh marking the journey he made. You felt him suck against the fabric, moaning deeply as the muted taste of you hit his tongue. 

His fingers returned their teasing touch, hovering above the waistband of the shorts. Leon however paused, glancing back up to you waiting silently for a final form of approval before doing anything. Your fingers stroked the soft strands of his hair as you smiled down at him and nodded. The shorts were removed fairly quickly and discarded somewhere in the room. “Cute” He chuckled upon seeing your underwear. You had totally forgotten about the heart shaped ones you wore this morning after not expecting company. “I…I wasn’t planning on this” You chuckled nervously. Your cheeks are heating up as embarrassment flooded through your system. You knew he didn’t care, not when his lust blown eyes watched the unveil of your underwear as he exposed your pussy. 

He watched the poor thing clench around nothing, the cold air making it twitch and spasm as you silently begged for attention. Who was he to deny you? This is what he wanted after all. To finally prove his affection and how much you mean to him, how much effect you had on his life since entering it. His kisses were firm, your arousal was just as sweet as your personality. Now sweetening up his bitter outlook on life. Fuck it was addictive, to ellicite each whine and whimper as he devoured your taste. His cock throbbed in his jeans. It was almost painful.

You didn’t miss the subtle shift in his hips as he ground them into the couch trying to give himself any form of pleasure he could. “Leon- please..more” You whimpered, tugging at the soft strands of his hair to get him to face you. His mouth curved into a grin upon hearing your request. Your slick coating his lips like lip gloss as he finally lifted his head to face you. “Anything for you” He grinned. The warmth seemed to follow him as he stood up, his presence immediately missed as began to remove his jeans and boxers in one fluid motion. 

His cock was pretty, the tip flushed red – cum beading in greeting of your greedy eyes. The shaft decorated in veins you knew would feel perfect as he moved himself through your folds. He knew he should fiddle through his pockets for that shiny wrapper, keep each other protected but at this moment he didn’t seem to care. Not when you were looking at him like that. Your legs spread even wider, pulling them back towards your chest as he returned to his spot. The couch had barely enough room for this type of motion, the coffee table limiting his leg room meaning it was an awkward angle. It didn’t matter in hindsight, not as he sunk himself in your welcoming warmth.

For the first time in years his mind was empty, no thoughts except for the pleasure that coursed through his cock, all of his blood rushing south. Fuck you were devine, he wouldn’t regret what he did to get to this moment. That poor woman who thought she was going to get lucky is now sobbing at home alone. He didn’t care not when you felt this fucking good. Tasted this fucking good. 

“I’m never letting you go” 

His obsession with you was rising, jealousy making him sick with thoughts of the competition he didn’t even have. Leon poured everything he could in the movement of his hips, hoping you’ll never forget the way his cock curved slightly as he entered. The tip brushed against your cervix as he pushed you further into the couch. Your nails grounded him, dug into his shoulder blades as you lost yourself to the feel of his cock. “I don’t want you to” 

The words were breathless, teased against the nape of his neck as you spoke them. His eyes met yours, he didn’t have to explain anything. Not with the history of his love circling around them. You had both been through too much, the job you shared demanding so much of everything. You both needed this. Something to return to – to remind you both you were still human. 

Your orgasm builds up quickly with his rhythmic thrusts hitting every spot you need him to. Your back arched with a gasp as it finally shattered through you, Leon smiled at the sight of you, his hips moved against yours at a bruising pace. It was a dangerous line to push himself this close without pulling out, the claim he could have by finishing inside you. Prevent you from finding anyone else, get anyone else from looking at you. He craved you for so long and it was gone too soon. “Where?” He grunted, burying his head in the crevice of your neck. “Inside” you whispered. 

He smiled against your skin, biting down as he finally let himself go. Your nails dragged along his skin as you felt his warmth flood through you. The two of you laid there, basking in the aftermath of your affection. Breaths mingling as you stared at each other with giddy smiles. “Happy valentines day” He whispered before bringing your lips in a sweet kiss. “Thank you, Leon” 

[yourownutopia]

❥002 ╔⏤⏤⏤╝❀╚⏤⏤⏤╗ 𝚂𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠’𝚜 𝚃𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚗 𝚅𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎’𝚜 𝙳𝚊𝚢 ˗ˏˋ ʚ♡ɞ ˎˊ˗ ╚⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤╝

Valentine’s Day—a time for romance, roses, and chocolate. But when your boyfriend is the Shadow Monarch, nothing ever goes as planned. 𝘝𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘋𝘢𝘺 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 ┊ 𝘑𝘪𝘯 𝘞𝘰𝘰 𝘹 !𝘍𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘐 𝘌𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘙𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 ┊ 𝘚𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘑𝘪𝘯 𝘞𝘰𝘰 ┊ 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘉𝘦𝘳𝘶’𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 ┊ 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘺? ┊ 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘴𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘦 ┊ 𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘵 ┊ 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘧𝘸 ┊ 𝘍𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭ "Don’t you dare be late," [Y/N] warned with a raised index finger as she stepped out the door. Jin-Woo remained in the doorway, watching as his girlfriend turned to face him one more time.

"I won’t," he replied with an innocent smile. Both of them knew how many times he had said that before—and how many times it had actually been true.

"I’m definitely going to win," she declared, leaning forward slightly with a challenging smirk.

"In your dreams, maybe," he countered, grinning.

He had teased her so often about making her speechless that she had decided to take it as a personal challenge to do the same to him. And so, a small power struggle had developed between them—one they both obviously enjoyed.

Her [E/C] eyes met his gray ones as she looked up at him, determination shining in her gaze. A brief silence settled between them as her eyes studied him intently. Just as Jin-Woo was about to

ask if she had forgotten something, she suddenly stepped closer, grabbed the collar of his shirt, and pulled him down to her level.

She pressed her lips to his with gentle determination.

Jin-Woo was slightly taken aback but wasted no time returning the kiss with equal intensity. A warm shiver ran through his body, but the moment ended as quickly as it had begun.

"See you tonight," [Y/N] whispered against his lips as she pulled away. At the same time, she let go of his shirt, and he reopened his eyes, which had closed during their brief but intense kiss. Her warmth faded as she took a few steps back.

"What was that for?" the young Shadow Monarch asked.

But [Y/N] merely put on an innocent expression, clasping her hands behind her back. "Just a little preview of what you’ll miss if you keep me waiting later," she teased before breaking eye contact, turning away, and raising a hand in farewell.

Jin-Woo stared after her—even when she had long disappeared from sight, he was still standing there, dumbfounded, his thoughts drifting. The fact that she was on her way to the city with Hae-In to buy a new dress for today made his thoughts drift off again… What would it look like? Not that it mattered—everything looked good on her anyway. And he would end up tearing it off her regar—no, carefully and lovingly removing it, like a gift meant only for him.

"My Kiiing~"

Jin Woo flinched; his face red as a tomato when Beru’s voice suddenly rang out beside him. The ant had materialized out of nowhere, as if summoned by his own embarrassment. Why now, of all times? He knew his shadows were a part of him, but thinking about how much they actually perceived? Yeah, no thanks.

Feeling caught, Jin Woo reflexively slammed the door shut in Beru’s face, spun on his heels, and walked straight into the kitchen.

Beru, confused by his master’s reaction, simply passed through the door as a shadow, not understanding that he had just interrupted something.

"My Kiiing, that was so mean," Beru whined theatrically, floating after Jin Woo, who was now rummaging through the kitchen cabinets.

That damn ant had been given too much freedom by his beloved. Sometimes, Jin Woo really thought the two of them were conspiring against him. He was getting bratty again.

"My Ki—" Beru began again, but Jin Woo shut him down immediately.

"Shh."

Right now, he didn’t want to hear a single word from him. He just wanted to go over his plan for today in his head again.

It was their first Valentine’s Day since they became a couple, and he wanted everything to be perfect. Cheesy? Maybe. But still perfect.

He'd pick up his new suit , get some new cologne, grab her a bouquet of her favorite flowers, take her to a fancy restaurant, watch the sunset with her on Kaisel, give her the gift, and then—

"but—" Beru tried again, cutting into his lewd thoughts a second time.

Jin Woo shot him a sharp glare. Beru shrank back, his antennas twitching nervously under his master’s silent reprimand.

Finally, silence.

Jin Woo went back to searching for something to eat, absentmindedly biting into a piece of bread as he closed the cabinet door.

Where was he again? Right—sunset, gift…

His eyes widened.

The damn gift.

He had completely forgotten.

"Beru!" He turned to the ant, furious. Beru flinched.

"You were supposed to remind me!" Jin Woo accused, already storming toward the hallway to grab his coat.

"But my King, I tried to—"

"Be quiet," Jin Woo snapped, too busy snatching his keys to hear the rest.

With a dramatic whimper, Beru melted back into the shadows.

ꨄ︎

"Damn it."

Jin Woo sighed in frustration as he stared at the empty display case behind the glass.

Gone.

Just yesterday, while walking home hand in hand, he had seen her gaze linger on that necklace—just for a moment.

The way the stones perfectly matched her [E/C] eyes had been enough for him to make up his mind. He would have bought it for her right then and there, but she had simply shaken her head, pulling him along, insisting it wasn’t worth it.

"It’s too expensive. I’d barely wear it anyway."

As if he gave a damn.

As if he wanted something else than to see her happy. To see her eyes light up as he fastened the delicate chain around her neck.

But someone else had beaten him to it.

His perfect Valentine’s Day gift idea was ruined.

What now?

Then it hit him.

He could just ask the others.

"Shadow Extraction," he murmured, and in an instant, darkness enveloped him. When the shadows faded, he was standing in the grand castle Beru had built for him. That crazy ant.

Everything stopped.

"The King has returned!" "Make way for the King!" "My King!"

His army sprang into motion as Jin Woo strode into the throne room, where Bellion was already waiting.

"Beru, gather everyone in the throne room."

Beru fully materialized, bowing deeply.

"Welcome back, my King," Bellion greeted as Jin Woo passed by, making his way to his throne and lazily resting his chin on his hand.

The sound of footsteps approached.

Jin Woo’s gaze flickered to Igris, who knelt before him in greeting.

The throne room quickly filled with his soldiers, murmurs spreading among them.

Their King had called for them.

Was there another battle? Another enemy?

As silence finally settled, Jin Woo stood, commanding attention.

"Alright, listen up."

Hundreds of glowing eyes fixated on him.

"We have an important mission."

Anticipation crackled through the air.

"What should I get [Y/N] as a gift?"

A long, stunned silence.

His shadows exchanged bewildered glances.

That was why he had called for them?

But if it was important to their King, then it was important to them.

"How about a crown for our Queen?" one shadow suggested. "A true Queen should wear a crown."

Beru smacked him over the head.

"Blasphemy! Our Queen does not need a crown to be a Queen!" he declared, utterly offended.

Iron let out a loud yell, catching Jin Woo’s attention.

"I really don’t think Lady [Y/N] would appreciate the head of a dungeon Boss as a gift," Bellion remarked, also deep in thought.

Jin Woo sighed. "Igris, what do you think?"

His most trusted knight had been quiet, and Jin Woo was counting on him. Igris took his time, then finally stood. His glowing eyes met his King's.

"I have an excellent idea," he said, gripping the hilt of his sword.

Jin Woo felt hope stir. Then—

"We should craft Lady [Y/N] a hand-forged sword."

Jin Woo gave up. He collapsed back onto his throne, utterly defeated.

What the hell made him think asking his shadows was a good idea? "My Liegeeee, what’s wrooong?!" Beru wailed, dramatically kneeling beside the throne as if his master was on the verge of death.

Jin Woo sighed deeply, covering his face with one hand. Finding a gift for a woman, HIS woman - was apparently more difficult than slaying a Monarch. Even with hundreds of shadows. ꨄ︎ "Really? Isn’t that a bit… too much?" Hae-In asked.

The two women stood in front of a shop window displaying a selection of ball gowns. Hae-In shook her head, her eyes glowing with curiosity as she examined the dress.

Under normal circumstances, [Y/N] would have agreed with her. But for what she had planned, this dress was simply perfect.

"It’s perfect" she breathed, her eyes shining.

"Alright then, let’s go," Hae-In said, pushing her friend toward the entrance.

As they stepped into the small boutique, the warmth of the shop washed over them. It wasn’t particularly large—more of a quaint, understated store that specialized in unique, handcrafted pieces rather than mass-produced fashion.

Immediately, a cheerful sales associate greeted them with a bright smile. Her long, red hair cascaded in soft waves down her back, and her blue eyes sparkled as she welcomed them warmly.

"Hello and welcome! Can I help you with anything?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

Before [Y/N] could respond, Hae-In spoke up.

"My friend here would like to try on the purple dress in the window," she said.

The redhead beamed even more—if that was even possible.

"Of course! Just a moment," she said before disappearing behind a curtain, where the display items were stored.

[Y/N]’s thoughts were racing. This kind of dress wasn’t really her thing. She had never really had an occasion to wear something like this—but this time, she had a plan.

She was going to leave him speechless. She was going to show him that she was more than what he was used to.

When the red-haired saleswoman returned, she carried the dress carefully folded over her arm.

"Here you go. The fitting rooms are right over there," she said, pointing toward two fitting rooms on her right.

[Y/N] thanked her and disappeared behind the curtain.

She quickly changed out of her clothes and slipped into the gown, the soft fabric embracing her body like a second skin. It fit her perfectly, as if it had been tailor-made just for her.

There was no mirror inside the fitting room, so she pulled the curtain aside and stepped out.

Both Hae-In and the young saleswoman stared at her, jaws practically hitting the floor.

"[Y/N]…" Hae-In stammered, while the redhead covered her mouth in shock.

Did she really look that strange? Feeling uncertain, she turned toward the nearest mirror and stared at her reflection. She could hardly believe that the person in the mirror was actually her.

The dress was a deep midnight blue with hints of violet, adorned with shimmering details that resembled a clear night sky. The fitted bodice flowed into a soft, wide skirt that swayed with her every movement. Delicate silver embellishments gave it an elegant yet understated glow.

She almost forgot to breathe as she moved slightly, watching the way the dress followed her every motion so effortlessly.

"Well?" she finally asked, glancing at the two women, who were still at a loss for words and could only nod furiously in response.

Satisfied, she took one last look at her reflection. No matter what Jin-Woo had planned—he was in for a surprise.

ꨄ︎

"Damn it," Jin-Woo cursed breathlessly, a bouquet of [Y/N]’s favorite flowers clutched in his left hand.

He had absolutely no idea what time it was, but the setting sun told him everything he needed to know.

It was too late.

All his plans—ruined.

He had rushed over as fast as he could and was still late. And she had specifically warned him about it.

A dull ache formed in his chest. What kind of pathetic excuse for a boyfriend was he?

He could slay monsters and rule over his kingdom, but making his girlfriend happy? Apparently impossible.

Yet when the urgent request from Jin-Chul had come in, he couldn’t exactly refuse.

A dungeon break was the last thing he needed right now, but the hunters on-site were struggling to deal with the high-ranking monsters. And unfortunately, he had completely lost track of time during the battle.

As he rang the doorbell, he mentally prepared himself for her anger—and rightfully so. Nervously, he fidgeted with the hem of his suit. He had at least managed to shower and change beforehand, his Hair still damp. He rang the doorbell again.

No answer.

Was she so mad that she wouldn’t even open the door for him? But… when he paused for a moment and closed his eyes to sense her location, what he saw was not the inside of her apartment—but his castle, from a bird’s-eye view.

Of course, he always had a shadow assigned to her. But yesterday, when she had asked to borrow Kaisel, it had been… unusual.

He hadn’t thought much of it at the time. It wasn’t strange for her to choose a shadow to accompany her—but she usually picked Beru or Igris, since those two were her favorites. Why was she in his castle instead of at home? That made no sense.

For the second time that day, he used Shadow Exchange and instantly appeared in the entrance hall of his castle.

Lifting his head, he stared at the closed doors of the throne room. Beyond the doors, he could feel the presence of his many shadows lurking inside. And of course—her presence as well.

What the hell was going on? Jin-Woo’s mind raced as he approached the enormous doors, still holding the bouquet in his hands. His heart pounded wildly in his chest. As the doors creaked open, darkness greeted him. His shadows had almost completely overtaken the room, with only a few torches on the walls left unobstructed, casting a warm glow over the vast hall. Jin-Woo stepped inside, tension swelling in the air. Just how bad was this going to be? His steps moved on their own as his heart pounded wildly against his chest. He had lowered his head—unable to look at her. The guilt gnawed at him.

But when his gaze finally lifted, when he saw her—he instantly forgot why he had been worried in the first place. His heart skipped a beat.

There, on his throne, she sat.

As he finally stood a short distance before her, he felt the heat under his skin, a faint tingling in his fingertips. His eyes wandered over her graceful form. Starting at her feet, encased in stunning heels that matched the color of her dress—the soft skin of her exposed legs, which she had elegantly crossed. His gaze traveled upward, over her slender waist and the intricate embellishments on the corset.

He swallowed hard.

The golden flames of the torches cast their glow over the deep, dark fabric of her gown—a starry sky woven into flowing material, so perfect it seemed as if the night itself had wrapped around her body. At the slightest movement, it shimmered like a thousand twinkling stars. She was the serenity in the darkness, the queen of his shadows—his queen.

Then, his eyes drifted higher, and he noticed what she was wearing around her neck. The necklace. The damn necklace he had wanted to give her. The one he had desperately sought out, wanting nothing more than to see it make her eyes shine even brighter. But she already had it… She had it anyway, and it looked just as perfect on her as he had imagined. She was breathtakingly beautiful, almost divine—simply perfect.

Shit.

He was the Shadow Monarch. A king. Feared. Unstoppable. His shadows kneeled before him. And yet… at this very moment, he felt like he was the one who should kneel before her.

As if she was the ruler of this realm instead of him, as if everything bowed only to her will. She radiated absolute calm.

Her head rested gently in her palm, her elbow casually propped on the throne’s armrest—her [E/C] irises were clear, gazing down at him, but her expression gave nothing away. Under her piercing stare and commanding presence, he felt small.

Jin-Woo had always admired her—the energy she exuded had enchanted him from the very beginning—but what he was feeling right now was something far deeper than mere affection. It was something instinctual, something beyond words—a reverence for her sheer elegance.

The air was thin—charged with an electricity that was overwhelming, exhilarating, and physically palpable as [Y/N] rose to her feet. The skirt of her dress cascaded softly over her legs—the tiny stars reflecting the torches’ warm light, glimmering like a flowing galaxy.

Jin-Woo held his breath as [Y/N] took slow steps toward him. Her movements were graceful, poised, her head held high—exuding a confidence that sent a shiver down the Shadow Monarch’s spine. The sound of her heels echoed in his ears, growing louder with each step. A satisfied smile tugged at her lips as she finally stood before him.

"There you are at last," she whispered softly, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her warm body pressed against his, pulling Jin-Woo out of his trance.

"I came as fast as I could, I—" he started, turning his gaze away in guilt, unable to meet her intense eyes. Nothing he said would make a difference, nothing would excuse his lateness or make up for the moment he had missed. "The Chairman called—God, I’m so terribly sorry," he stammered, desperately searching for the right words to show her that it wasn’t because he didn’t care.

Because by God, he did.

He hated nothing more than disappointing her. He would move heaven and earth to make her happy—he would make the whole world kneel before her if that was what she desired. Her hands cupped his face, and with gentle determination, she made him look at her. Her eyes were warm, her soft features shaped into a tender smile.

"I know."

She had known. From the very beginning. Being the strongest meant sacrifices.

The safety of the world rested on his shoulders—even on a night like this.

That was why she had planned from the start to move their date here—to his castle, which had long since become her home as well, considering how much time she spent here. Her voice was so gentle, so understanding, that the tension in his body instantly melted away.

His shoulders relaxed, and he leaned into the warmth of her touch. With one hand, he grasped her wrist and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles.

Dark strands of hair fell over his eyes as he looked up at her, apologetic.

"You are…"

Breathtaking.

Magnificent.

Everything I need to breathe.

Extraordinary.

Perfect.

Mine.

None of these words could even begin to describe what he felt for her—what he wanted to tell her. He didn’t just want to say it. He wanted her to feel it. Every day—every moment, with every breath he took, he wanted nothing more than to make her happy.

"Absolutely stunning in this dress?" she teased, stepping back slightly to twirl in place, the fabric lifting elegantly before settling around her again.

"Shit, yeah," he muttered as he took her in again, hardly able to believe that this beautiful woman was actually his.

She grinned, placing her hands on his chest. "Have you looked at yourself?" she asked, tracing small circles on his suit jacket with her finger before slowly moving upward. Her soft touch sent an electrifying shiver down his spine, and he felt his self-control begin to crack. The closer her fingers got to his collar, the shallower his breath became. Provoking him like this was dangerous. "Don’t do that," he growled, his voice low, carrying a warning that sent butterflies fluttering in [Y/N]’s stomach.

"Don’t?" she echoed innocently, batting her lashes at him. But when her cool fingertips finally grazed the exposed skin of his open shirt, leaving behind a trail of tingling heat—he snapped. In a flash, he grabbed her wrist. His eyes gleamed a deep, glowing violet, and the energy around them shifted instantly.

[Y/N] giggled softly before leaning in to whisper in his ear: "If you like the dress so much, you’ll definitely love what’s underneath."

That was it.

Without a word, in one swift movement, he lifted her into his arms, cradling her effortlessly.

His strong hands supported her under her knees, and [Y/N] let out a startled gasp as she suddenly found herself pressed against him.

"Jin-Woo!" she half-heartedly protested as he turned on his heel and strode toward the exit.

"Where are we going?" she asked innocently, feeling the firm grip of his hands on her legs.

Anticipation swirled in her stomach as she wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head against his warm chest.

"Bedroom. Now."

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! ꨄ︎ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ Happy Valentine’s Day, my loves!

(Yeah i know, valentine's day is tomorrow, but i wanted to give it to you, since i'm not able to post ist tomorrow (yeah yeah i could plan it but i wanna see what y'all think :) I hope you enjoyed this little special! Do you have any exciting plans? My boyfriend and I made a reservation for dinner and just want to have a lovely evening… and a lovely night? Who knows. Maybe we’ll just end up in a food coma in bed, sleeping it off :D Much love to all of you! ❤️ Thanks for all reblogs, likes & comments.'*•.¸♡ I really appreciate it <3 ♡¸.•*' ˋ°•*⁀✎ 𝑢𝑡𝑜𝑝𝑖𝑎 ps: this is what i had in mind while choosing the Dress for [Y/N] ! <3

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗠𝗜𝗗𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧, 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗦 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗬𝗢𝗨 - four mafia! charles leclerc x wife! reader ( ??? ) series summary . . . after preparing your whole life to be married off to a mafia boss, you now have the difficult task of figuring out your new marriage and life, ensuring they don't turn out to be miserable.

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The atmosphere in the grand hallway was thick with tension, but you focused on Charles, straightening his tie with steady hands. You tugged gently at the lapels of his suit, smoothing out invisible creases, your eyes scanning him with quiet scrutiny. He looked every bit the part—powerful, composed, untouchable. But you knew him well enough to see the subtle weight pressing on his shoulders.

“You’re going to do fine,” you murmured, fixing a stray curl in his hair before letting your fingers trail down to his collar. “No one in that room holds more power than you.”

Charles huffed a soft laugh, tilting his head slightly as he watched you. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you said simply, eyes flickering up to meet his. “You’re Charles Leclerc. Your name alone commands respect.”

His gaze softened, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you just a fraction closer. “You always know what to say to me, ma chérie.”

You smiled, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before he could get too sentimental. Charles, of course, was never one to settle for half-measures. Before you could pull away, he caught your chin between his fingers and kissed you properly—slow, deliberate, lingering just long enough to make his point.

When he pulled back, his lips barely brushed against yours as he murmured, “Stay close to me in there.”

You nodded, and with that, Charles pushed open the heavy doors, stepping into the grand meeting hall where Europe’s most powerful crime families were gathered.

The room was a spectacle of wealth—tailored suits, glittering jewelry, designer watches. Wives sat beside their husbands like living trophies, diamonds cascading down their throats. Every glance, every movement, every unspoken word was a statement of power.

The two Leclercs stood tall, unshaken by the silent battle of status being waged around them.

And then, he arrived.

Max Verstappen entered the room like he owned it, his presence commanding attention without him having to say a single word. He was dressed simply, no excessive displays of wealth, but somehow, that made him stand out more. He didn’t need to flaunt anything—his reputation did it for him.

Your stomach twisted uncomfortably as his sharp gaze swept across the room before settling, for the briefest moment, on you.

Then, he spoke.

“Apologies for the . . . inconvenience,” Max started, his voice smooth, practiced. “But Belgium had to be taken. It was necessary.” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle over the room. “If anyone has a problem with that, now’s the time to speak.”

Silence.

No one moved. No one dared.

Because they all knew the truth—Max Verstappen wasn’t just powerful. He was dangerous. Crossing him was a death sentence.

And as much as you wanted to look away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, beneath it all, his message wasn’t just for the room.

It was for you.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The moment you stepped outside the meeting hall, the air felt lighter—free from the thick tension and unspoken threats lingering within. You exhaled, rolling your shoulders back as you approached the water dispenser, filling a glass with slow, deliberate movements.

A moment. That was all you needed.

But a moment was all it took.

You sensed him before you saw him. A shadow in your periphery, a presence too familiar, too heavy to ignore.

“Thirsty?”

The voice sent a chill down your spine, not from fear, but from something far more complicated.

You didn’t turn immediately, instead taking a slow sip, letting the cool water settle before acknowledging him. “Is that a crime now, Verstappen?”

Max chuckled, stepping closer—too close. “No,” he said, voice laced with amusement. “But some things are.”

You finally met his gaze, and it was a mistake.

Because he was looking at you like that. Like he used to. Like he still saw you as his, like he still believed you should be.

“You’ve been talking to Victoria,” he murmured, his head tilting slightly as he studied your face. “I appreciate that, you know. Not many people would bother.”

Your fingers tightened around the glass. “She’s my friend, Max.”

“I remember,” he said softly, and for a moment, just a fraction of a second, something unguarded flickered in his expression. “I remember everything.”

His hand lifted before you could stop him, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

You stiffened.

He noticed.

But he didn’t stop.

Instead, he let his fingers trail lower, his knuckles grazing your jaw before he held your chin—so gently, so carefully, as if he was afraid you’d break beneath his touch.

There was no malice in his gaze, no roughness, no anger. Just something far more dangerous.

“I could give you a place,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t belong with him, schatje.”

Your breath hitched at the old nickname, and Max caught it.

He always caught everything.

“I know why you married him,” he continued, his grip still featherlight against your skin. “I know it wasn’t your choice.” His thumb ghosted over your chin, his touch achingly soft. “But this? Us? That was.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to steel your nerves. “There is no us anymore.”

Max smiled then, but it wasn’t a happy one. “There could be.”

Your heartbeat pounded against your ribs.

He leaned in just slightly, just enough for his next words to ghost against your skin. “Come back to me.”

Your lips parted, but nothing came out.

“Come back,” he repeated, voice smooth as silk. “Take your place with me. Where you should’ve been all along.”

You tried to step back, but his hand at your chin kept you still—still gentle, still careful, but firm enough to remind you of the power he held.

“You think he can keep you safe?” Max’s head tilted, amusement flickering in his expression. “You think he can stop me?”

Your fingers curled at your sides, nails pressing into your palms.

Max didn’t miss it. His smirk returned, amused. “I’ll take Monaco,” he said, as if he were discussing the weather. “You know I will. And after that?” He paused, letting the words sink in before delivering the final blow. “And then I’ll take Italy.” His thumb pressed lightly against your jaw. “And when I do, lieverd, there won’t be anything left for him to protect.”

Your pulse roared in your ears.

“I’ll give you one chance,” he continued, his voice almost too soft. “Make the right choice.”

Your breath felt too shallow, too quick. “I need to get back.”

Max didn’t stop you. He simply released your chin, his fingers lingering for just a second longer before dropping to his side.

You turned sharply, gripping the glass so tightly it might have cracked.

You didn’t look back.

You couldn’t.

But you felt his eyes on you the entire way back.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The meeting had finally drawn to a close, the grand hall emptying as the various mafia heads and their entourages filtered out into the cold Monaco night. The tension still clung to the air, thick and unspoken, but for now, it was over.

You let out a slow breath, shaking off the weight of it as you turned to Kika, offering a small smile. “See you soon?”

Kika, ever warm and effortless, pulled you into a hug, her perfume light and floral as she squeezed you briefly. “Definitely. Text me, okay?”

You nodded, stepping back as Pierre gave you a nod of acknowledgment, his hand resting on the small of Kika’s back as they left.

Charles stood beside you, his hands in his pockets, his expression carefully neutral until they were out of earshot. Then, with a scoff, he rolled his eyes.

“Some New Year’s gathering,” he muttered, the irritation clear in his voice.

You huffed out a laugh, watching as he strode forward and opened the car door for you, the deep red of the Ferrari gleaming under the soft streetlights.

Before you could slip inside, something pulled at the edge of your awareness. A feeling.

Your gaze drifted instinctively across the lot.

And there he was.

Max stood near his own car, a sleek Honda NSX, his posture almost hesitant—like he wasn’t sure if he should leave just yet. His hands flexed slightly by his sides, but his sharp blue eyes were locked onto you, unreadable in the dim light.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then, as if deciding against whatever thought had crossed his mind, Max tore his gaze away, slipping into the driver’s seat and shutting the door. The low hum of the engine echoed through the parking lot as he pulled away, disappearing into the night.

You swallowed, turning back to Charles, who was already watching you with narrowed eyes.

“Let’s go,” you murmured, stepping into the car.

Charles said nothing, but as he shut the door behind you and rounded the front of the Ferrari, you could feel the shift in the air between you.

He had seen.

And he had questions.

[sweetfcwn]

stay - george clarke.

the fight had been stupid. at least, it felt stupid now, in the silence that followed.

you sat curled up on your side of the bed, your arms wrapped around your knees, staring out the window at the dim glow of london’s streetlights. george was on the other side of the room, pacing in that restless way he did when he was upset but didn’t know what to do with it.

“are you even going to say anything?” he finally asked, voice quieter than before, but still edged with frustration.

you swallowed, your throat tight. “i don’t know what you want me to say.”

george ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “i don’t want you to say anything, i just—” he stopped himself, shaking his head. “i just wish you’d let me in.”

your fingers tightened around the fabric of your jumper. he didn’t get it. he didn’t understand that letting people in meant giving them the power to leave. and you had lost too many people to take that risk.

“i’m trying,” you said, barely above a whisper.

george looked at you then, his expression softer now. less frustrated, more… sad.

“i know,” he admitted. “but it’s hard watching you shut down every time something gets too real. i don’t need you to be perfect, baby. i just need you to be here with me.”

the words settled in your chest, heavy and aching. you hated how much sense they made.

for a moment, neither of you spoke. the only sound was the faint hum of the city outside, the space between you stretching wider, more fragile.

then george sighed, raking a hand through his hair again before turning toward the door.

“i’m gonna go—”

“don’t.” the word left you before you could stop it.

george froze, glancing back at her. you bit her lip, willing yourself to meet his eyes. “don’t go,” you said, quieter this time.

his shoulders relaxed, just slightly. “i wasn’t leaving,” he murmured. “just giving you space.”

you let out a breath, your pulse unsteady. you shifted, hesitating only a moment before reaching out a hand. “i don’t want space.”

george didn’t hesitate. he crossed the room in two steps, taking your hand in his, warm and steady. you let him pull you close, letting yourself melt into the safety of his arms.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered against his chest.

his lips pressed against the top of your head. “you don’t have to be.”

you stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, until the city outside faded into nothing.

and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe—just maybe—love didn’t always have to end in loss.

[heliosunny]

Hi there! Your yandere reader x mydei was an absolute masterpiece. May I request you to write yandere reader x phainon. Where the reader is a noble lady and phainon was her knight and she was rlly obsessed w him.

Of course, no need to rush. >_<

Yandere!Fem!Reader x Phainon

The grand ballroom sparkled under the glow of a thousand chandeliers. Laughter and music wove together into an elegant tapestry of noble frivolity, but Phainon barely paid any mind to the festivities. His focus remained on the young lady beside him, his charge, his responsibility.

"Phainon~!" Your voice rang sweetly in his ears, laced with an affection so open that it drew the attention of nearby courtiers. You reached for his arm, nearly tripping over the hem of your gown in your haste.

Phainon caught you with ease, steadying you with a firm grip. "Careful, my lady." he said, amused. "You’ll ruin your dress if you keep stumbling like this."

You pouted up at him, eyes shimmering with something too intense, but Phainon had long since learned to dismiss that particular feeling. It was simply how you were. Overly attached to him, perhaps, but not in a way that seemed harmful.

"You’re always catching me, aren’t you?" You sighed dramatically, letting your fingers linger on his wrist longer than necessary. "What would I ever do without my dearest knight?"

"Find another knight?" he teased lightly, guiding you toward the dance floor as a nobleman approached to ask for your hand.

But before the man could even complete his bow, you laughed, stepping closer to Phainon as if he were the only one in the room. "Oh, but why would I need anyone else? My knight is the strongest, the most loyal—" Your fingers curled slightly against his sleeve. "—and he’s always by my side."

The nobleman chuckled, mistaking your words for a jest. "A lady so fond of her knight. How charming! Sir Phainon, it seems you are irreplaceable."

Phainon offered a polite smile, ignoring the way your grip tightened.

You had always been like this. Possessive in a way that others found endearing, doting in a way that left no room for anyone else. It wasn’t unusual for nobles to be attached to their personal knights, and you had been his charge since your youth. Your affections, no matter how overwhelming at times, were harmless.

…Right?

----

The sun hung low in the sky, casting golden light through the tall windows of the training grounds. Phainon adjusted his grip on his sword, exhaling slowly as the heat of exertion settled into his muscles. A match had just ended, and the dust had barely begun to settle when he heard your voice—cheerful, unmistakable.

“Phainon~! I brought you something refreshing.”

He turned just in time to see you skipping toward him, a cup in hand, your fine silk dress unsuited for the dusty grounds. Despite that, you moved with light steps, your smile unwavering as if this was the most natural place for a noble lady to be.

Phainon wiped his brow, chuckling. “You didn’t have to, my lady.”

“But I wanted to” you hummed, pressing the cup into his hand.

He took it without argument, accustomed to your little gestures by now. You were always like this—bright, affectionate, clumsy in a way that made others fond of you. Your hands lingered at his wrist, fingers warm against the cool metal of his gauntlet.

And then he saw it.

A thin cut along your palm, red against pale skin. Not deep, but fresh.

His brows furrowed. “You’re hurt.”

You blinked, then glanced down as if you had just noticed. “Oh? I suppose I am.” You laughed, brushing it off with a small wave of your hand. “It’s nothing.”

Phainon frowned. It wasn’t unusual for you to be careless with yourself, but the way you disregarded your own wounds always unsettled him. “What happened?”

“Hmm… I think I might have scraped it on a broken cup earlier.” You tilted your head, smile unwavering. “But it’s already fine, see?”

He barely had time to process before you reached up and pressed the cut hand against his cheek despite the sting it should have carried. He stiffened slightly, not at the touch itself but at the lack of reaction from you.

A wound like that should hurt, shouldn’t it?

But you didn’t even flinch.

Phainon hesitated. The thought lingered only for a moment before he sighed, shaking his head.

Perhaps you just had a high tolerance for pain. Perhaps you truly hadn’t noticed the injury.

“Phainon” you said sweetly, eyes locking onto his. “You’re thinking too much again.”

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Perhaps I am.”

Your fingers curled against his cheek.

His grip on the cup tightened, but he said nothing.

----

The moon hung high, casting silver light over the quiet estate. Most of the household had long since retired, the corridors dark, the halls silent. Yet, as Phainon made his patrol through the gardens, his sharp eyes caught something unusual.

A lone figure, seated by the window of the highest tower.

His steps slowed. Even from afar, he recognized you immediately—the soft glow of candlelight catching the curve of your face, the way your hand rested lightly against the sill. You weren’t reading, nor did you seem lost in thought.

You were looking at him.

A strange feeling stirred in his chest, though he couldn’t name it. He had grown used to your attentiveness, to the way you always sought him out during the day, but this…

Why were you still awake?

Why were you watching him so intently?

His lips parted, perhaps to call out, but the moment his gaze met yours—

You disappeared.

In an instant, you vanished from sight, pulling the curtains closed as if you hadn’t been there at all.

Phainon remained standing in place for a long moment, the cool night air brushing against his skin. A quiet chuckle finally escaped him as he shook his head.

“Strange” he murmured to himself, resuming his patrol.

It was probably nothing. You were just being you.

Phainon completed his patrol as usual, but a lingering sense of curiosity remained. By the time he returned to the inner halls of the estate, the candles were dim, the servants long asleep, and the air carried the distant scent of roses from the gardens.

He shouldn’t dwell on it. It wasn’t the first time you had acted strangely, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. Still, something about the way you had disappeared the moment he saw you gnawed at the back of his mind.

Had you simply been embarrassed at being caught? Or…

Before he could entertain the thought further, a voice broke through the silence.

“Phainon.”

He turned swiftly, only to find you standing there, illuminated by the flickering lanterns.

Dressed in a nightgown of soft silk, a shawl barely clinging to your shoulders, you looked as though you had just stepped out of bed. But Phainon knew better. The quickened breath, the faint warmth of your skin despite the cool night air—you hadn’t been asleep at all.

“My lady” he greeted, concern slipping into his tone. “It’s late. You should be resting.”

Instead of answering, you smiled. Bright, affectionate, as if it were the middle of the day rather than the dead of night. “You work so hard” you murmured, taking a step closer. “Even now, you’re still patrolling. Do you ever stop, my dear knight?”

Phainon hesitated, caught between propriety and familiarity. You were always like this. But it was harmless, wasn’t it? You had been like this for years.

So why did it feel as though the weight of your gaze never truly left him? Even when he wasn’t looking?

He offered a small chuckle, pushing the thought aside. “It’s my duty,” he reminded you. “Ensuring your safety comes first.”

You sighed, tilting your head. “You worry for me more than I do for myself.”

His gaze flickered briefly to your hand—the same one that had been cut earlier. Wrapped in silk bandages now, but even that seemed more for appearance than necessity.

“You should rest, my lady” Phainon said gently, shifting the conversation away. “I’ll be here in the morning, as always.”

For a moment, you simply stared at him. Then, ever so slowly, you smiled again, softer this time.

“Yes… you will, won’t you?”

There was something unsettling in the way you said it. Not as a question, nor as a hope—but as an undeniable truth.

And yet, as always, he dismissed it.

Phainon was accustomed to waiting. It was part of his duty, to be ever-present, ever-ready to escort you wherever you wished. But as he stood outside your chambers that morning, he was met with something unexpected.

“The lady?” a maid stammered when he asked. “She… she already left.”

Phainon blinked. “Left?”

The maid nodded hastily, sensing his confusion. “She insisted it was nothing to worry about. Said she would return shortly.”

His grip on his sword hilt tightened. You never left without him. Not once in all these years.

And yet, this morning, you had gone alone.

Without another word, Phainon turned on his heel, stepping out of the estate. His first instinct was to check the market square, but as he watched the morning crowds, he quickly realized that if you had wanted to be seen, you wouldn’t have left without him.

No, you were hiding.

His search led him deeper into the city, away from the refined streets of nobility and into the underbelly where secrets thrived. His instincts sharpened as he observed, unnoticed, from the shadows of an alley.

Then, just as he was beginning to question himself, he saw you.

Dressed in commoner’s garb, a hood drawn over your head, moving through the streets as if you belonged there. If he hadn’t known your every movement, your every habit, he might have missed you entirely.

You were skilled at this.

Phainon’s heart pounded as he trailed behind, watching as you slipped into a small, unassuming building. A guild.

What were you doing here?

Minutes passed before you emerged, and in that moment, Phainon moved.

Before you could disappear again, his hand caught your wrist, firm but careful.

You gasped softly, turning—only to meet his piercing blue gaze.

“My lady” he murmured, his voice calm but laced with something unreadable. “What exactly are you doing here?”

You had been caught.

For the first time in a long while, you hesitated.

Phainon watched you closely, his grip on your wrist gentle, yet firm enough to keep you from slipping away. You were good at hiding things—always had been—but this time, you had been caught.

And now, you had to answer.

“…Phainon” you finally said, your voice softer than usual, as if searching for the right words. “You startled me.”

He didn’t let go. “That doesn’t answer my question, my lady.” His tone was even. “What business do you have in a guild?”

You tilted your head, smile returning, but it was a fraction too slow, a fraction too forced. “Is it so strange for a noble to be curious about the workings of the city?”

His eyes didn’t waver. “Strange? No. But unusual for you, considering you didn’t bring me along.”

You laughed lightly, as if that alone could wash away the tension. “Oh, Phainon, must I report everything to you?”

His fingers flexed slightly around your wrist. “When it concerns your safety? Yes.”

There it was—that unwavering loyalty. The kind that made him yours. But that same loyalty could become an inconvenience if he ever turned it against you.

For now, you needed to placate him.

You exhaled, lowering your gaze just enough to feign guilt. “…I only wanted to know more about you.”

Phainon stiffened, only slightly, but you caught it.

You lifted your free hand to rest against his, the warmth of your fingers pressing against the coolness of his armor. “You’re always protecting me, always by my side. But how much do I really know about my knight?” You sighed, shaking your head. “I asked for stories. About your past, your reputation. Is that truly so terrible?”

Phainon remained silent for a long moment. Then, at last, he sighed.

“…You shouldn’t have come alone.” His grip finally loosened, though he didn’t look pleased. “If you wanted to know, you could have asked me.”

You smiled. “Would you have told me everything?”

His silence was answer enough.

“See? That’s why I had to do it this way.”

Phainon exhaled through his nose, rubbing his temple. “My lady, you are truly…” He trailed off, shaking his head before offering his arm. “Let’s return before anyone notices your absence.”

You slipped your hand into his without hesitation, allowing him to lead you back through the city.

----

The afternoon sun filtered through the garden, casting soft golden light over the tea party. Laughter rang through the air, delicate and refined, as the ladies spoke in gentle, lilting tones.

Phainon stood a short distance away, ever watchful, ever present. His polished armor gleamed under the sunlight, a silent reminder of his duty. He was used to being ignored in these gatherings, just another knight in the background—until today.

“Sir Phainon, you must tell us” one of the ladies cooed, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Is it true you once took down a dozen bandits alone?”

A few of the women giggled, leaning in with eager eyes.

Phainon only chuckled, his usual warmth never fading. “I assure you, the story is exaggerated. A knight is never truly alone—our duty is to stand together.”

More laughter followed, the ladies clearly enamored with his charm. But as Phainon smiled and answered their questions, something prickled at the back of his mind.

Your gaze.

It wasn’t the usual fondness you showed him. It was something quieter, sharper. Your fingers rested lightly against your cup, poised and delicate as always, but there was a certain stiffness in the way you held yourself.

You weren’t laughing.

You weren’t even looking at the other ladies.

Just him.

Phainon’s lips parted slightly, but before he could say anything, you placed your cup down with a soft clink.

“Well, ladies, this has been delightful” you said with a gentle smile. “But I must take my leave.”

Soft protests arose, but you only laughed, standing with practiced elegance. The moment was fleeting, yet unmistakable—your gaze flicked once more toward Phainon before you turned away.

He watched as you bid farewell, your voice still as sweet as ever. But as you walked back toward the estate, your steps slowed.

Because one of the ladies had latched onto his arm.

A playful gesture, innocent by noble standards. But Phainon saw it.

The way your fingers twitched at your side. The way your eyes darkened for the briefest second before you simply turned and disappeared inside.

For a moment, Phainon considered shaking the lady off.

No, why would I?

The thought was absurd. You had no reason to be upset. And yet…

That night, as he patrolled the gardens, he felt it again.

Your gaze.

This time, when he looked up, you didn’t hide. You sat by the window, watching him as you always did.

Phainon exhaled softly, shaking his head as he continued his rounds. He told himself it was nothing, just another one of your harmless habits.

But this time, you didn’t stay long. Instead, you lay back on your bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking.

Thinking of her hand on his arm.

Thinking of how to ensure it never happened again.

Hours passed in silence.

Knock. Knock.

A gentle rapping at your door.

You blinked, your lips parting slightly. You hadn’t summoned anyone. The maids would be asleep.

Slowly, you sat up.

“…My lady?”

Phainon’s voice.

Your heart beat a little faster.

You smiled.

“Come in, Phainon.”

The door creaked open, revealing Phainon standing in the dim candlelight. His silver-white hair was slightly tousled, a sign that he had been outside for some time. His blue eyes, ever sharp yet warm, studied you carefully.

You sat on the edge of your bed, one hand resting lightly on the silk sheets. You made no move to hide your amusement as you tilted your head.

“Phainon” you greeted softly, your voice carrying the remnants of sleep despite how long you had been awake. “What brings you here so late?”

Phainon hesitated, his grip tightening slightly at his side. He had been following his instincts for years—protect, guard, serve. But this? This wasn’t something he could fight with a sword.

“…I noticed you weren’t sleeping” he said. “You were watching me again.”

Ah. So he had seen.

Your smile didn’t waver. “Did it bother you?”

“No.” He exhaled, stepping further into the room. “But… my lady.” He hesitated again, his voice quieter. “Were you upset earlier?”

You blinked, feigning innocence. “Upset? About what?”

Phainon didn’t answer immediately. He simply watched you, as if trying to decipher something he couldn’t quite grasp. Then, he shook his head with a sigh.

“It’s nothing” he muttered, though his tone suggested otherwise.

You patted the space beside you, inviting. “Then come sit with me.”

For a brief moment, he seemed reluctant. You rarely made requests, never demanding, never unreasonable—always so understanding. That was why his loyalty to you had only grown deeper.

And yet, something about tonight made him hesitate.

But he obeyed, as he always did.

As Phainon lowered himself beside you, his presence was as steady as ever, strong, reliable. The very things that made you unable to bear the thought of losing him.

You leaned slightly closer, your warmth pressing against his side. “You always come when I need you, don’t you?”

Phainon chuckled lightly. “That’s my duty.”

Your fingers curled slightly against the fabric of your gown.

“Then,” you murmured, “stay a little longer.”

He should have said no.

But he didn’t.

“…Alright.”

The room was quiet, save for the soft rhythm of your breathing.

Phainon sat still, watching as your head rested lightly against his shoulder. The warmth of your presence, the gentle rise and fall of your chest—it was a rare sight. For all your brightness and grace, you never let yourself appear vulnerable. Yet now, with your breath steady and eyes closed, you looked… at peace.

A sigh left his lips. He had stayed longer than he intended. Carefully, he shifted, easing you onto the bed without waking you.

He stood, adjusting his armor in silence, and turned toward the door.

Then he noticed it.

A drawer, slightly ajar.

Phainon frowned. He had always been meticulous about his surroundings, a habit born from years of training. That drawer had been closed when he entered. Had it shifted when he sat down?

It would only take a second.

But in that moment, something caught his eye.

A flicker of parchment, tucked beneath a velvet lining. More than one. Letters, notes—some bearing his name. And then, at the very bottom, a stack of papers carefully organized, filled with records.

His records.

His breath slowed as he pulled one free, scanning the words under the dim candlelight. Battle reports, background checks, guild transactions—things no noble lady should have access to. Things no one should care to gather about a mere knight.

Yet you had them.

Every detail. Every moment of his life before he had even stepped into your service.

And then, among the papers, something more chilling—locks of white hair, carefully tied with ribbon. His hair.

Phainon barely had time to process before—

Whoosh.

Instinct screamed at him. He moved just in time, ducking as something sharp and fast sliced through the air where his head had been.

He spun around.

You stood there, wide awake. Your usual smile was gone, replaced with something unreadable.

“…You shouldn’t have looked, Phainon.”

He stared at you, his body tense, his heartbeat hammering against his ribs. “My lady” he began, his voice slower now, careful, “what is this?”

You sighed, tilting your head. “Isn’t it obvious?”

His grip tightened. “You’ve been—”

“Watching you?” you finished for him, stepping forward. “Of course.”

Your voice remained light, but there was something dangerous beneath it, something unsettlingly calm. “You’re mine, Phainon,” you whispered. “You always have been.”

Phainon felt something in his chest tighten.

This wasn’t just admiration.

This was—

His vision swayed. A strange dizziness settled over him, creeping into his limbs like a slow, suffocating tide. His fingers twitched at his side, his muscles suddenly heavy.

His eyes snapped back to you.

You were watching him expectantly.

“You’re feeling it now, aren’t you?” you murmured.

Phainon’s breath came quicker, his knees threatening to buckle. “What… did you do?”

You only smiled. “I didn’t do anything, Phainon.” Your fingers brushed against his arm as you leaned in. “You simply breathed.”

A scent. Faint, sweet—one he had noticed before but never thought much of.

His body wasn’t used to it. But yours was.

“Don’t worry” you soothed, guiding him down as his strength drained.

Phainon tried to move, tried to resist, but his body was no longer his to command.

When Phainon’s eyes fluttered open, the first thing he noticed was the cold.

Not the damp chill of stone corridors, nor the familiar night air of the estate gardens—this was different. Heavy, quiet, controlled.

His body felt sluggish, like the weight of sleep hadn’t fully left him. He tried to move, only to find resistance. Chains. Not harsh bindings, but secure enough to limit his movement.

A dim glow flickered from a lantern nearby, casting soft shadows against the polished wood of what looked like an elegant chamber. The air was filled with a familiar scent—your scent.

And then, there you were. Sitting gracefully in a chair beside him, hands folded neatly in your lap. No mask of surprise, no guilt, no hesitation. Just you, watching him with a knowing smile.

Phainon exhaled, closing his eyes for a brief moment before opening them again. “Where are we?” His voice was hoarse, weaker than he would’ve liked.

“You don't need to know.”

His muscles tensed instinctively. “My lady—”

“My name,” you corrected softly. “Say it, Phainon.”

He swallowed. “…Why?”

You sighed, as if dealing with a stubborn child. “Because I like the way it sounds when you say it.”

He remained silent.

Your expression didn’t waver. Instead, you leaned forward slightly, studying him. “Do you understand now?”

“Understand what?”

You smiled, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “That you belong to me.”

Phainon inhaled. There was no jest in your words. No fleeting obsession, no childish claim. It was a simple, undeniable truth to you.

He should have been furious. Afraid, even.

But instead, all he could feel was a creeping sense of inevitability.

“…Why?” he asked at last, voice quieter.

“Because you’re the only thing in this world I could never stand to lose.”

Phainon should have been searching for an escape, should have been planning his next move. And yet, he found himself staring at you instead, searching for something, anything, that would explain this madness.

But there was no hesitation in your eyes.

Just certainty, as if his fate had been decided long before he had ever realized it.

“…You could have had anyone” he said at last, his voice low.

“I only want you.”

Phainon let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

Your smile returned, small and pleased. “From the very beginning.”

His jaw tightened. The strange part wasn’t the revelation itself—it was that, in hindsight, he should have known. The signs had always been there, scattered like breadcrumbs through the days, through the years.

The lingering stares. The way you never showed interest in anyone else. How effortlessly you seemed to know where he was, what he was doing, who he was speaking to.

And yet, it had never felt dangerous.

Phainon’s gaze flickered to the chains around his wrists. They weren’t cruel, weren’t meant to hurt—only to keep him here.

He exhaled. “You think this will make me stay?”

You reached forward then, fingers brushing against his cheek. He flinched slightly, not in fear, but in realization.

The warmth of your touch had never felt unfamiliar.

Had he always let you so close?

“Phainon,” you murmured, your voice unbearably soft. “You’ve never needed chains to stay by my side.”

You were right. You had never demanded his loyalty. Never forced him to kneel, never commanded his devotion. And yet, he had followed you all the same. Even now, bound and betrayed, part of him didn’t hate you for it.

Phainon’s chest rose and fell in measured breaths, his mind working through everything—your obsession, your control, your unwavering belief that he was yours.

He should have been angry. He should have wanted to escape.

But instead, all he could feel was you. Your fingers lingered against his cheek, your warmth so familiar, so natural, as if nothing had changed. As if you weren’t the one who had done this to him.

His blue eyes flickered to yours. “What do you want from me?”

Your smile didn’t falter. “Everything.”

A slow exhale left his lips. “You already have my loyalty.”

“I don’t just want loyalty, Phainon.” You leaned in, voice dropping to something almost tender. “I want you. Your thoughts, your heart, your entire being.”

His fingers curled against the chains. “You can’t force that.”

“I don’t need to.”

There was no arrogance in your voice, just a quiet, absolute confidence.

And that was what unsettled him the most.

Because you truly believed he would stay.

That he belonged to you.

And the worst part?

Somewhere deep down, he wasn’t sure if you were wrong.

Phainon swallowed, forcing his expression to remain neutral. “And if I say no?”

“Then I’ll wait” you murmured. “As long as it takes.”

The weight of your words pressed against him like a vow, a promise carved into the very fabric of his existence.

You weren’t demanding.

You were simply waiting—because you knew that, in the end, he had nowhere else to go. The chains were nothing compared to the weight of your words, the inevitability of it all.

You had already won.

His eyes met yours, searching—perhaps for regret, for cruelty, for some sign that you had done this out of malice. But there was none. Only devotion. Only love, twisted and unshakable. A quiet laugh escaped him, tired yet laced with something else. Something dangerously close to surrender.

“…You won’t let me go, will you?”

You simply smiled. “There is no ‘letting go’ of something that already belongs to me.”

He closed his eyes briefly, when he opened them again, something in them had changed. The fight had dulled, not entirely gone, but no longer a battle he could win.

“Then at least,” he murmured, his voice softer now, “take off these chains.”

Your breath hitched, eyes widening just slightly before your expression melted into something warm. Pleased.

Because you knew. You had him now.

You reached forward, your fingers brushing over the cool metal of his bindings. The lock clicked, and the chains unraveled, falling away with a soft clatter against the polished floor.

Phainon flexed his wrists, rolling his shoulders as he tested his movement. He could fight now. He could leave.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he lifted his gaze to you, watching the way you studied him, waiting, as if daring him to run—knowing full well that he wouldn’t.

And you were right.

His hand lifted before he even thought to stop it, fingers brushing against your wrist, tracing the pulse beneath your skin. His grip was not tight, not forceful, but it lingered. And you let him.

No words passed between you, yet something unspoken shifted in the air.

Then, he pulled you closer. Your breath hitched, just barely, as his forehead dipped against yours.

"You always knew, didn't you?" His voice was low, steady, but no longer holding that edge of resistance.

Your fingers curled lightly against his chest, as if reveling in the warmth of his presence. "That you would stay?" A soft chuckle. "Of course."

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head slightly before pulling back just enough to meet your eyes.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper—resigned yet laced with something dangerously close to acceptance—

"Then don't ever make me regret it."

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Omg Bunny I do miss Mafia!Anakin so much 😭 I was gonna request Sweetheart!Ani but since you said you have some on your inbox

Could we have some Mafia!Ani fluff pretty please? I'll take anything ✋🏻😞

- 🦢

PAIRING: mafia!anakin x f!reader

ANAKIN SKYWALKER stood against the doorframe, watching you. Just watching. He didn't say a word, didn't make a sound—he just leaned there, arms softly crossed, that deep ocean gaze locked onto you like you’re the only thing in the world worth looking at. But that shouldnt be a surprise, if to him, you are.

You’re sitting at your vanity, silk robe draped loosely over your frame, skin glowing under the soft golden light. Gosh, he loves you like this—bare, natural, undone. He loves you always, but there’s something about these times near midnight where you're glowing even more for him, as if the moon itself found you more beautiful, and poured all it's shining glory to you.

You don’t pay much attention to him at first—too focused to make the delicate swipe of lip gloss across your lips, focus on the way it shines just right, just the way you want. That small act made him smirk. His girl always likes to feel pretty. And damn, you are. More than you even realize.

Then you felt him.

Not with words. Not with sound. But with presence.

Warmth.

Heat.

The polished floors barely making a sound beneath his heavy frame. And then—his hands. Large, firm, possessive. Settling so gently on your shoulders, fingertips so delicately sliding down your arms before curling around your waist, pulling you against him. Well, mostly your chair. You melted at the scent of his cologne—dark spice, something rich and utterly Anakin.

“Always so beautiful,” he murmured, lips grazing the shell of your ear.

His voice is deep, raw, a sound that could destroy everything; kingdoms, worlds, empires..yet here—with you—it’s soft. Devoted. Gentle. Loving

His lips trailed to your shoulder, pressing the gentlest kiss there, then another, then another—slow, reverent, worshipful. Your skin is so warm beneath him, and he takes his time, hands stroking soft patterns along your waist, grounding you.

And then—something cool touched your skin

You gasp, eyes widening when you see it through the mirror.

A necklace. Small, delicate, stunning. A thin chain of pure silver, diamonds caressing it's length. Soft. Simple. Breathtaking.

Just like you.

He clasped it behind your neck, fingers lingering—in a way of saying; ‹you are mine, always›

His lips brushed against your ear, deep voice sending warmth all the way down your spine.

“You know I don’t need a holiday to show you how much I love you, angel.” His hands slide to your stomach, pulling you closer, tighter, safer. Gaze locked onto yours through the mirror, full of nothing but love. Need. Everything.

“But I need you to know—I’ll never stop proving it.”

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