#his mind realized he already was everything he needed to be

[lookingforuravity]

THE ONLY EXCEPTION

♫ now playing - the only exception by paramore

bakugou x reader

word count: 1,827 words

IN WHICH each time your friends caught bakugou only being nice to you.

a/n: still 'fool for you' just changed the title (≧ω≦)

“i've never seen him so.. calm.”

“right? he's always so uptight.”

the two friends were peering over the couch as they watched bakugou and y/n sleep soundlessly. there was a serene look drawn on his face while he held y/n closely to him, her hand resting softly on his chest as their chests rose up and down simultaneously.

“how come he's so much nicer to her than any of us?” kirishima complained with a pout stitched on his lips. he'd been friends with bakugou way before (two months) him and y/n got together. where was his special treatment?

“they're dating duh. why wouldn't he be nice to her?” mina replied as gazed at the couple with a soft gaze in her eyes. their young, teenage love was truly admirable.

even if bakugou seemed to have a stick up his ass 24/7.

the couple twitched softly in their sleep. it had been a long and stressful day of endless amounts of training, and lord knew that they both needed a break. a thin blanket was all that covered their bodies, but anybody could make out the way bakugou held her waist and the way y/n laid her hand on his chest underneath the sheet.

the usually quiet library turned into a circus as it filled up with bakugou's grumbling, denki's whines, and y/n's giggling. the sight of bakugou repeatedly smacking denki on the head with rolled up paper was an entertaining sight to distract her from her note-taking.

“are you seriously this stupid?” bakugou growled as he peered over the blonde's notebook, erasing and scribbling over any mistakes he made. denki pouted while rubbing his head on the spot that bakugou smacked. “c'mon.. it's really not that easy!” denki whined.

bakugou's vermillion eyes narrowed at denki. “it's basic algebra! how did you even get this far if you can't do simple math?!” he snapped.

denki continued to pout as he grumbled under his breath, something about bakugou lacking basic respect.

“uh.. katsuki?” y/n called out hesitantly.

though he still kept the glare on his face, the way his body language softened was visible, and how his tone contrasted from denki to her was plain obvious. “what?”

she turned over her notebook towards him so he can see her work. “i think i did it wrong.. can you check it?”

bakugou grabbed her notebook and skimmed over her work. “yeah.. here, let me explain.” he leaned over closer to her, close enough to where she can smell caramel on his skin.

denki's mouth fell agape as he watched how the guy went from raising hell on him to looking like he was practically skipping in a field of flowers inside his head. “that is SO not fair! how come you're so much nicer to her than me?!”

“cause she's not an idiot! keep working!”

it was far past midnight, and it was already one thing that izuku couldn't sleep, but on an empty stomach? it made it far much worse. he tried everything in the book from counting sheep to counting his breaths, but nothing could beat his racing mind and the sound of his stomach growling.

izuku didn't want to disturb anyone, but would it really hurt if he just tip-toed to the common room? he sighed as he ran his hand through his curly green hair, quietly making his way to the kitchen to not wake anyone.

but as he walked through the common room, a taller figure appeared in front of him.

“GAH!” he yelped, hastily smacking a hand over his mouth as he realized how loud he'd screamed. “shoto!” he half-whispered. “what are you doing?!”

todoroki stood still, his expression unwavering. “i couldn't sleep.” his direction turned towards the kitchen. “i wanted to get a snack, but i think someone is in there.” he said.

that's odd. it was almost one in the morning, and the only people that izuku thought could be awake fell asleep ages ago. he asked todoroki who it was but he only shrugged, showing he only heard the person but never checked who it was.

he never thought he'd be met with the sight of bakugou resting his chin on y/n's shoulder as she made them snacks.

“at 12:47 in the morning? that's way past bakugou's bedtime…” todoroki muttered under his breath.

bakugou's tone was softer, softer than anyone had ever heard besides y/n herself. “you better not burn it.” he huffed.

y/n giggled, slightly turning her head to face his side profile. “i'm not going to burn our snacks,” she assured. “i'm an expert.”

“expert my ass.”

“hey!”

izuku and todoroki looked like a deer in headlights looking at the scene before them. they wanted to walk away, believe them, they really did. but the sight of bakugou being so domestic was such a rare and amusing sight to see.

“do we… leave?” izuku suggested.

“i don't know…” todoroki answered. “this is really weird.”

bakugou’s head shot up from her shoulder and turned to look at the two voices faster than the speed of light. his ruby eyes were narrowed as he glared them down as his lips curled. “the hell are you guys doing?”

izuku's hands flapped around in a panic. “w-we were just about to leave! i swear-”

“you're very affectionate, bakugou” todoroki said, as blunt as ever.

“shut up!” he yelled, his face turning as a red as a tomato and his hair puffed up. y/n giggled once again at the dramatic scene that laid in front of her. “do you guys want snacks too?” she offered.

“why are you giving our food to extras?” “suki!”

brutal wasn't even the word to describe today's training session. everyone was curled up on the ground, hands over their stomach as it even hurt to breathe. the sounds that filled the room were heavy breathing and complaints. and y/n— was nowhere to be found.

mina, jirou, and ochaco all wandered the hallways, a worried look etched on their face as they searched for their friend. “i'm really worried about her y'know.” mina was the first one to break the silence.

both girls nodded in agreement.

“so am i,” ochaco said. “she just disappeared right after training ended.”

the trio kept wandering the halls, looking in every corner and every turn where y/n could be hiding.

suddenly, through the glass window, they see their little y/c haired friend sitting on the bench, with her fingers intertwined on her lap and her head hung low.

“there she is!” jirou yelled, quickly running to the nearest door to go outside and get y/n while the other two girls trailed closely behind her.

but something made them stop dead in their tracks. the closer they got to the window, the more they were able to see someone elses silhouette sat next to her.

“is that bakugou?”

bakugou's arm was wrapped securely around y/n's shoulders, intently listening to her rambling about whatever she needed to get off her chest.

“i did really bad today.” she mumbled, her voice filled with sadness and frustration.

“and that’s okay.” bakugou comforted her. “one bad doesn't mean you suck. everyone has bad days.” he reassured her, rubbing light circles on her shoulders.

y/n shrugged, playing and picking at her fingers as they rested on her lap. “i just think i’m weak, y’know?” she mumbled once again.

“you're not- hey. look at me.” bakugou squished her cheeks and turned her head to face his. “stop. you think i'd be talking to you like this if you're so weak? hm?”

“no?” she muffled due to how much bakugou was squishing her face.

“exactly. you're strong, so stop putting yourself down because of one off day and keep training.”

“you're hurting my cheeks.”

bakugou let go of her face, lightly patting her cheeks as an apology. “my point is, one bad day doesn't mean you're weak. think about every other time you've kicked ass.”

y/n laughed softly, her face changing from what looked like a kicked puppy to her usual grin. “thank you suki.” she said.

“this is the cutest thing I've ever seen.” mina whispered while clenching her shirt where her heart is tightly.

“who knew the pomeranian could be such a romantic?” jirou teased as ochaco and mina giggled along side of her.

bakugou lightly ruffled the top of y/n's hair, lightly blushing from the way she looked at him with such a lovestruck glance. “you're strong. don't start with that ‘i'm weak’ shit cause i won't hear it.”

“you're so sweet when you want to be.”

“now you're pushing it.”

“why are you only nice to me?” the question caught katsuki off guard.

the couple had been in y/n's dorm room simply sitting in silence, with their legs entangled together and the light noise of the TV playing in the background.

he turned his head slightly to face her, their eyes meeting instantly as she was already looking at him so softly. “why wouldn't i be?” katsuki questioned as his fingers lightly played with her hair.

y/n shrugged, not having a response to his question. it just seemed out-of-character for him. he was the type of person to not let anyone change him, good or bad.

but the crude boy would come to be a puddle of sap when it came to her. even if it wasn't obvious verbally, the ways his eyes softened when they laid upon her was enough said.

“i asked you a question first.” she retorted.

katsuki exhaled sharply, his gaze turning from her to the ceiling as his heart rate sped up a bit. “you're just.. different.”

y/n's eyebrows raised slightly as a smirk stitched itself onto her face. she scooted closer to katsuki's side, leaning her head on his bicep as she stared lovingly at his side profile. “i'm.. different? there's more to that, isn't there?”

“of course there is. you just don't get to know that stuff right now.”

y/n knew that katsuki wasn't one to talk about his feelings. she wasn't looking to change that. but the simple thought of him just looking at her differently from the rest, like shes the only person in every room, made her heart flutter.

“don't think i'm getting soft though.” katsuki grumbled, an arm slipping around her waist as he pulled her impossibly closer.

“you're just… the only exception.”

©LOOKINGFORURAVITY 2024 | please do not copy, translate, or repost my work onto other

TAGLIST: @kaerotica @sweetlike-sugarplum @misfortvne @iridescencefae @awesomesauce-oo @kalulakunundrum

[revelboo]

Revel, this is very important (Atleast to us-). Me and my friend have both been reading Everything is Alright and we both agree on something, we were hoping that you could make Starscream a Girl dad, and make the first sparkling a girl. Only if you want to though and don't have any plans, we'd be alright if you don't do this too. We both really love and enjoy your writing, and check everyday for new updates from you. <3 Also, considering this is a request, If you don't mind and it isn't too pressuring, could we please have updates on the Brainstorm and Chromedome/Rewind fics?

Sure! I didn’t have a plan yet for Star’s kid so that works. I’ll try to update Chromedome/Rewind, Tailgate/Cyclonus, Sunder, Brainstorm, and Metroplex if I can today

Everything Is Alright Pt 123

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• “If I was in charge, we’d have conquered this miserable mudball already and crushed the Autobots,” Starscream says, lip curling and you freeze. “The Constructicons already have a refinery going, mining is in full swing. But we’d be much further ahead if you hadn’t let those disgusting Insecticons just scurry away. I’ve said that those little savages need to outfitted with mode locks and tracking implants they can’t just remove themselves.” You’ve heard Star’s side of the war. That they were fighting for freedom and to overthrow a corrupt senate, but this is the first time he’s mentioned conquering your world and it leaves you cold inside. Because was that his intention all along? Whispering to you at night whole knowing he was going to destroy everything and not even caring?

• “What do you mean about conquering Earth?” You ask and Soundwave tenses as your emotions begin to build. Glares at Starscream to stop, but the Seeker is on a roll, secure in the knowledge that Megatron can’t hurt him too badly now. Not looking at you to realize you’re upset. ‘The only value in this world is the energon Shockwave seeded millennia ago,’ Starscream says. “The only value? This is my world. My home.” And you’re shrugging off Soundwave’s hand to face the Seeker, little hands balled into fists. Furious and he’s never seen you angry like this before. “What do you to do to worlds you’ve conquered?”

• Rant faltering at the edge in your voice, Starscream sees Megatron smirk and realizes he’s just made a mistake. Wings dropping, he turns back to you and forces a smile. “Nothing to worry yourself over, little one. Our home is Cybertron. Yours now, too.” And your eyes narrow, looking from him to the other two and back as your face reddens and your chin lifts. Why are you so upset? You’ll love Cybertron. You’ll be with him and your sparkling.

• “I asked what you do to the worlds you conquer,” you repeat. “What’s left after you’re done? Is anything left?” Hates that the upset edge in your voice bothers him and knows it’s the bond pulling him to you, urging him to soothe you, but Megatron has no intention of interfering. Enjoying watching the SIC struggling for words, wings flicking as he finally catches on that he’s screwed up. “I’m not going anywhere,” you say, tossing your hands up and striding away, though there’s nowhere you can really go trapped on the berth. Watches Soundwave drift after you, touching your arm and getting his hand slapped. And Starscream is glaring at him like this is all his fault.

• “Typically,” Megatron growls and you turn to glare at him, unsettled by his lazy smile. “Worlds our war spills onto don’t survive.” Breath catching, you wish he was mass displaced so you could slap him. Actually right now, you want to slap all three of them. There has to be a way to keep your idiots from razing your home to ash with their stupid war. They’re bigger and stronger than you, but they need you don’t they? You’d gotten the impression from Star that fully bonding takes ‘til death do us part to the most literal extent. Which means you’ve got leverage to get your way, even if it’s absolutely awful to even consider holding your life over their heads by threatening yourself just to try and get them to behave.. “Though, I might be convinced to spare this world. With the proper motivation.”

• And he can feel the shift in your emotions, the cold calculation. Doesn’t like it one bit, either. Scheming and manipulation isn’t your strength. Curling his arms around you and tugging you back into him when you try to shrug him off, Soundwave tries to pin down exactly what you’re thinking, but as always your mind is too chaotic for him. But he can’t help but be worried. He’d played kingmaker for Megatron, started playing the same game for you, positioning you so you’re safest, but if you’re also playing? It complicates things. Needs to fully bond you as soon as possible so he can better protect you, be able to get a better grasp on your thoughts. Except. There’s the problem of your lifespan. If it was only his life, he’d take it, claim you, but his cassettes need him. Depend on him. And so do you. For the first time he can remember, his path forward isn’t clear to him. What he wants and needs at odds with reason.

Previous

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[favefandomimagines]

I Know Places 2 (r.c)

Summary: Rafe goes to Y/N at the bait shop and his presence is not celebrated

AN: part 2 of ‘I Know Places’ and I’m deciding to go the traditional route! I’m used to the old school way of fics so this will be fully written out and not SMAU! Though I do love how that’s on trend right now!

Previous part

The next morning, Y/N Maybank was up before the sun had fully risen, her mind too restless for sleep. She had spent the night tossing and turning, debating whether or not to tell JJ and the Pogues about what happened at Tannyhill. It wasn’t that she wanted to keep secrets—she just didn’t know how to explain the strange feeling of being pulled into Rafe Cameron’s world, if only for a fleeting moment.

By the time the bait shop was ready to open, she was already elbow-deep in her morning routine: feeding the live bait, checking inventory, and wiping down the counters.

Summer was here, which meant the shop would soon be crawling with locals and tourists alike, and she needed everything to be in order.

The small bell above the door jingled, pulling her attention away from the tank of minnows. She glanced up to see Rafe Cameron standing in the doorway. His broad shoulders filled the frame, his usual air of arrogance replaced by something quieter.

“Hey, Pretty Girl,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Y/N quirked a brow, unsure whether to be annoyed or amused. “Rafe Cameron on the Cut? You must’ve hit your head harder than I thought.”

“Funny,” he replied, stepping closer. “How’s business?”

“It’s early,” she said flatly, then tilted her head. “How’s your head?”

“Better,” Rafe said, though his hand instinctively went to touch the bandage she had applied the night before. “Still aches.”

“Maybe now you’ll listen to me and see a doctor,” Y/N said, crossing her arms. “What if you’ve got brain damage? You must have if you thought coming here was a good idea.”

Rafe chuckled under his breath, but his expression quickly sobered. “I need to talk to you about last night.”

Y/N set the container of fish food on the counter, her brows knitting together. “What do you mean?”

Rafe leaned against the counter, his blue eyes scanning the shop briefly before landing back on her. “How many people did you see leave the house?”

“Three,” she said slowly, thinking back to the shadowy figures slipping through the side gate. “They looked like men, but I couldn’t see their faces. They had black hoods on.”

She watched as Rafe’s jaw tightened and his eyes clouded over, clearly running through a mental list of possibilities. It didn’t take a genius to realize there was more to the break-in than he was letting on.

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” Y/N asked, her voice softer now.

Rafe shook his head quickly. “No. Don’t worry about it.”

“Rafe, someone broke into your house and assaulted you. You need to tell Shoupe,” Y/N said firmly.

“I’m sure they didn’t find what they were looking for,” he replied cryptically.

“What does that even mean?”

Rafe ignored the question, shifting his weight uncomfortably. “I just... I wanted to see you. And to thank you again for helping me last night.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “It’s no problem,” she said, though her voice faltered slightly. “But you should probably go before JJ finds you talking to me.”

“Do you always do what JJ wants?” Rafe asked, but there was no malice in his voice.

Y/N hesitated, his question catching her off guard. Did people really think that? “No,” she said finally, a small smile tugging at her lips. “It’s just that a fight is bad for business.”

Rafe returned her smile, a rare softness in his expression. He pulled out his phone and handed it to her. “Here. Put your number in. You know, in case I need another house call.”

Y/N stared at him for a moment, her instinct screaming at her to say no. But Rafe seemed... different. The last time they’d spoken, he’d been consumed by grief and arrogance, still reeling from his father’s death and struggling to take over the family business. But now, he seemed calmer—more grounded, though still carrying an edge.

She grabbed his phone and began typing her number. Her head was screaming at her to not do it, don’t give him access. But she did it anyway.

“Rafe?”

Both their heads snapped toward the dock, where Sarah Cameron was walking toward the shop. Rafe stepped back from Y/N, his demeanor instantly shifting.

“What are you doing here?” Sarah asked, her gaze narrowing suspiciously.

“Thought someone broke into the house last night,” Rafe said smoothly. “I knew you parked outside when you went to that party, so I came to see if you saw anything.”

Before Sarah could respond, Y/N interjected. “I already told him I didn’t see anything. We were still at the party when it happened.”

“Someone broke into the house? Did they take anything? Are you okay?” Sarah questioned. “I’m fine. It didn’t look like they took anything. Just a window and a door I have to replace.” Rafe answered.

“I uh, gotta go, I’ll see you around.” He added, his gaze fleetingly on Y/N.

He walked past Sarah and up the dock, leaving Y/N standing there, her heart pounding for reasons she couldn’t fully understand.

“Was he bothering you?” Sarah asked, stepping into the shop.

“No, no,” Y/N said quickly. “He just wanted to ask if we saw anything.”

But even as she spoke, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Rafe’s visit meant something more. And as much as she hated to admit it, she didn’t entirely mind.

“JJ is going to freak when he finds out.” Sarah commented. “We don’t need to tell him. I’m sure Rafe came here looking for you but I was here.” Y/N quickly replied.

As Sarah stepped closer, Y/N busied herself with the container of fish food on the counter, her mind racing. She could still feel the heat of Rafe’s presence lingering in the room, and her stomach twisted at the thought of Sarah catching onto something she hadn’t even figured out herself.

“What’s going on?” Sarah asked, crossing her arms as she studied her friend.

Y/N shrugged nonchalantly, hoping her casual demeanor would be enough to shut the conversation down. “Nothing.”

“Since when does Rafe come to you for answers?” Sarah’s tone was skeptical, her piercing gaze making Y/N feel like she was under a microscope. “And why didn’t he just ask me?”

“Maybe because you were at the party too?” Y/N said, raising a brow. “I don’t know, Sarah. He didn’t exactly give me his whole life story.”

Sarah frowned but didn’t press further, instead moving to grab a soda from the mini fridge behind the counter. “Still... I don’t like him showing up out of nowhere like that.”

Y/N let out a short laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “What, you think he’s gonna rob the bait shop? Pretty sure we’re not hiding any family heirlooms in the minnow tank.”

Sarah snorted, but her expression remained thoughtful as she leaned against the counter. “I just don’t trust him, Y/N. You know how he is.”

Y/N hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her shirt. Sarah wasn’t wrong—Rafe Cameron was trouble. He always had been. But last night, when he was bleeding and vulnerable, he didn’t feel like the same guy she’d written off.

“Yeah, I know,” Y/N said quietly. “But he’s your brother, Sarah. He can’t be all bad.”

Sarah gave her a sharp look, clearly not expecting that response. “You’re defending Rafe now?”

Y/N shook her head quickly. “No, I’m not defending him. I’m just saying... people can change, right?”

Before Sarah could respond, the bell above the door jingled again, and John B strolled in, followed closely by JJ, who was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Morning, ladies,” John B greeted with a grin, grabbing a bag of chips from the shelf. “What’s the gossip?”

“Rafe was here,” Sarah said bluntly, making both boys freeze in their tracks. Y/N glared at her friend, eyes saying ‘why the hell would you do that?’

“What?” JJ’s tone immediately turned sharp as he walked over to Y/N. “Why the hell was Rafe Cameron here?”

“Someone broke into his house,” Y/N said quickly, trying to downplay the situation. “Wanted to know if we saw anything suspicious last night. That’s it.”

JJ’s jaw clenched, and he let out a humorless laugh. “Since when does he care about what we saw? He’s up to something.”

“Relax, J,” Y/N said, placing a hand on his arm. “He wasn’t here to start trouble. He just... wanted answers.”

“Well, he better not come around again,” JJ muttered darkly, his protective instincts kicking in. “I don’t care what he wants. You don’t need to be talking to him.”

Y/N bristled at his tone, but before she could respond, Sarah spoke up. “Let’s not make this a thing. Rafe’s gone, and he’s not coming back here.”

JJ muttered something under his breath, clearly still annoyed, but he let it go for now. Y/N, however, felt a tinge of annoyance in her chest. She loved her brother, and it was just the two of them at the end of the day so it makes sense he’s protective. But he’s not her father, she’s 20 years old, she doesn’t need her brother telling her who she can and can’t talk to.

||

The fire crackled softly, its orange glow casting warm shadows on the Pogues as they lounged in the cool evening air. John B was sprawled out on the sand with Sarah curled up beside him, their laughter intertwining as they recounted the story of JJ’s infamous fight with Topper outside the country club.

“And then Shoupe shows up, and Y/N’s out here sweet-talking him like she’s auditioning for a soap opera!” JJ exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air for emphasis.

“Sweet-talking?” Y/N interjected from the hammock, her tone dripping with mock offense as she rolled another joint. “I’ll have you know I was using logic and reason to keep your ass out of juvie.”

Kie snorted. “Logic and reason? You told Shoupe Topper started it and then cried about how JJ was just trying to defend your honor.”

“Exactly,” Y/N said with a smug grin. “And it worked, didn’t it?”

JJ grinned back, leaning over to flick sand at her. “I owe you for that one, Sunshine.”

“Damn right you do,” Y/N quipped, expertly twisting the joint closed.

The group dissolved into another round of laughter, the kind that came easy after a long day and a few too many hits. Pope was stoking the fire while Cleo leaned against him, teasing him about his terrible impression of Shoupe. It was one of those rare nights where everything felt simple—just them, the stars, and the stories they carried.

“Hey, Sunshine!” JJ called, breaking through the chatter. “Toss me one of those masterpieces!”

Y/N smirked, flicking the newly rolled joint in his direction. JJ caught it with ease, holding it up like a trophy before lighting it.

As she reached for another paper, her phone buzzed against her thigh. She picked it up without much thought, her heart skipping a beat when she saw the name.

Rafe.

The text was simple but enough to tug at her carefully guarded smile.

RC: Hey, Pretty Girl.

Y/N: Can I help you, Cameron?

RC: What are you doin’?

Y/N: Currently? I’m rolling a joint.

RC: Lol, save one for me?

Y/N: Maybe.

The next text froze her in place.

RC: Just wondering, is asking you out against doctor’s orders?

Her breath hitched, her mind racing. Was Rafe Cameron—Rafe Cameron—really asking her out? She stared at her phone for a moment too long, trying to process what this meant.

Y/N: Hm, that might be bad for your health

RC: What if we don’t tell anyone?

This wasn’t the Rafe she’d known before. The old Rafe was reckless, arrogant, and self-absorbed. But now? He felt different, quieter. Something had shifted, and Y/N couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

RC: Did I lose you, Pretty Girl?

She glanced around the fire. Her friends were laughing, oblivious, completely immersed in the stories of summers past. Sarah was teasing John B about his failed attempts at surfing, JJ was leaning back with a lazy grin, and Kie was high enough to be softly singing to herself.

Y/N was the odd one out—always had been in a way. The one without a partner, without a storybook romance. And yet, there was something undeniable about the way her chest had tightened in Rafe’s bathroom, how she’d felt something she couldn’t ignore.

Y/N: Better plan a good date

The reply came seconds later.

RC: Is that a yes?

Y/N: It’s a yes. Don’t mess it up.

Y/N set her phone down, the smallest of smiles playing on her lips as she leaned back in the hammock.

“Who are you texting?” Kie’s voice came from beside her, making Y/N jump. Kie had slid into the hammock, her eyes glassy but curious.

“My cousin,” Y/N lied smoothly, reaching for another paper. “We need more weed, and he’s got the good stuff.”

Kie leaned her head on Y/N’s shoulder, her movements sluggish. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Y/N froze, the lie suddenly feeling heavy in her chest. “Of course, Kie,” she murmured, though her voice felt hollow.

“You’re my best friend,” Kie continued, her words slurring slightly. “You and me, we’re a team, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Y/N said softly, guilt twisting in her stomach.

But as Kie drifted into a half-asleep haze against her shoulder, Y/N’s thoughts drifted back to Rafe. Whatever this was, it wasn’t something she could tell them. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

[insidekatmind]

Confession-Alejandro Balde

Wearning:+18,sweet smut.

It was late, and the rain was falling gently on the streets of Barcelona as you clutched your phone in your hands, your heart shattered by yet another lie. The proof was right there, in front of your eyes messages, photos, details that left no room for doubt. He had cheated on you. Again.

You felt foolish, exhausted, drained. How much longer were you going to stay in this toxic relationship, hoping he would change?

A knock at the door made you jump. You already knew who it was.

Alejandro stood there, his hoodie slightly damp from the rain, his eyes burning with restrained anger. He looked at you for a moment, then, without saying a word, pulled you into his arms.

"You don’t deserve this," he whispered against your hair.

You broke down in tears, letting all the pain flow out, just like the rain streaming down the windows. Alejandro didn’t let go, not even for a second.

"I don’t understand why I keep hurting myself," you murmured, your voice breaking.

He pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hands. His dark eyes were intense, filled with a feeling you couldn’t quite decipher yet.

"Because you love him," he answered, a trace of bitterness in his tone. "But he doesn’t know what it means to love you."

Your breath hitched for a moment."Ale…"

He shook his head, taking a deep breath as if he was about to say something he had been holding back for too long.

"I’ve seen you suffer too many times, Y/N. I’ve watched you forgive, hope, stay when you should have walked away." He paused, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. "And I realized I can’t stand by and watch anymore."

Your heart pounded wildly.

"I love you," he confessed, his voice trembling but sure. "And I have for a long time. I just always thought you deserved someone better than me… but then I realized that anyone would be better than him."

He gave you space to pull away, to refuse, to deny. But you didn’t. Because in that moment, with his hands holding you as if you were the most precious thing in the world, you felt a truth you had never dared to face before:

Alejandro was everything your ex wasn’t.

And maybe, he was exactly what you had needed all along.

You look at him for a while and then finally kiss him. He responded almost immediately, kissing you back hungrily, as if he could not believe that this was finally happening. His hands roamed across your body possessively, pulling you closer to him as if he wanted to fuse your body into his.

You straddled him without breaking the kiss. He groaned, his hands gripping your waist as you straddled him, his body reacting to you. He deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth passionately. Alejandro shifted you a little so you were fully sitting on his lap, and could feel his excitement growing as your body pressed against him.

You moaned and clung to him as you kissed him more passionately. He broke the kiss for a moment, his breathing ragged, and looked at you with dark eyes filled with desire.

"You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," he murmured, his hands roaming across your back, as if trying to memorize every curve of your body. Without warning, he flipped you both over so you were now laying on the couch, with him hovering over you.

You look at him smiling and you let him fall on your body hugging him while you caressed his hair and every now and then you gave him sweet kisses on his face. He buried his face in your neck, nuzzling and breathing you in. His body was heavy on you, but it felt safe and comforting.

His hands roamed your body, sliding underneath your shirt and caressing your bare back. He let out a low moan, as if just the touch of your skin was enough to make him lose his mind. "You drive me crazy, you know that?" He murmured, his lips brushing against your collarbone. He began to kiss and lick your skin, his teeth grazing along your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His hands continued to roam over your body, as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

You could feel his arousal, hard and wanting, pressed against you, and it made you shiver with anticipation. You pulled him closer, your fingers tangling in his hair. He responded immediately to your touch, his body pressing against yours even more. His hands were everywhere, as his mouth latched onto your skin, finding every sensitive spot that made you arch your back, and moan softly.

He nipped at your earlobe and then whispered in your ear, his voice deep and sensual, “I want you. I want you so bad it’s driving me crazy.” You shivered at his words, feeling a new wave of desire wash over you. You pulled him closer, kissing him hard and needy, as your body strained against his. He groaned, his hands sliding further down your body, exploring every curve as if marking you as his territory.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, wanting him even closer, wanting to feel every inch of his body against yours. He responded in kind, his own hips rolling against you as he kissed you deeply, his tongue tangling with yours.

Alejandro gently and delicately takes off your leggings and kisses your legs softly and then takes off your panties, he moans at the sight. He looked at you, his eyes dark and heavy with desire. He ran his hands over your thighs, his touch a mix of gentle and possessive.

"You are so magnificent," he murmured, his voice hoarse, as he planted kisses along your legs, his lips sending shivers of pleasure through your body. Alejandro slowly made his way up, his hands sliding up to your hips, as he pulled you closer. He looked up at you, his eyes locking with yours, filled with an intensity you had never seen before.

He quickly takes off his sweatpants and boxers and slowly enters you. His hands gripped your thighs as he slowly entered you, his body trembling with desire. He let out a low moan, his eyes locked on yours, as if he couldn't look away.

He took a moment, his body completely enveloped in you, and you could feel his heart pounding against your chest. He leaned in, kissing you deeply, his body pressed against yours as if he couldn't get close enough. “You feel so good,” he says softly as he pushed his cock into you slowly and sensually.

You moan softly feeling his gentle, slow and sensual thrusts. Alejandro watched your face closely, his gaze taking in every single expression you made. He loved the way your body responded to his touch, the way your moans made him shiver.

His hands continued to roam your body, finding all the spots that made you arch your back, and squirm in pleasure. He was taking his time, wanting to make you feel every single moment, every single sensation.

“Ale” you moan softly as you still feel his slow and sensual thrusts. “faster” you murmur but Alejandro shakes his head. “There's time baby, I want to make you feel every inch of me inside you” he whispers softly kissing your forehead.

“You’re so beautiful, so perfect,” he murmured between kisses, his hands roaming over your body lovingly. “I’ve wanted this for so long, I can barely believe it’s real.”

Your heart beats fast at his words and you smile softly and then moan as you feel Alejandro slowly and sensually hitting your g-spot. “There it is,” he whispered, his eyes gleaming as he noted your reaction. He knew he had found the perfect spot, and he began to move himself even more to touch it more softly, slowly making you lose your mind.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he commanded. “Don’t look away.” You obeyed, your gaze locked with his as he continued to move inside you. His eyes were dark and intense, filled with so much emotion it took your breath away.

He bent down to kiss you again, his mouth devouring yours possessively. His movements became even more deliberate, as if he was trying to drive you crazy. Every inch of your body was on fire, ignited by the passion of his touch. Alejandro picked up the pace a little, his thrusts becoming deeper and more erratic, but he was still in control, still keeping the rhythm slow and sensual. He could feel your body reacting to his touch, your breathing ragged and heavy.

Alejandro watched you closely, his eyes never leaving yours, as if he was trying to burn this moment into his memory. His hands were everywhere, roaming your skin, touching every part of you as if he couldn’t get enough.

You moan softly, kissing his jaw lovingly. "Ale I'm coming" you whisper. “Let go, baby,” he whispered back. “I’ve got you, I’m here.”His hands gripped your thighs a little tighter, as he continued to move inside you, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

“Come for me,” he said, his voice low and sensual. “Come for me and I’ll catch you.” At his words you moan softly and come. With two more thrusts he pulls out and comes on your belly sighing loudly.

He groans at the sight. Alejandro reaches out and takes the rag that was on the furniture and removes his cum from you and then throws the rag on the floor. Alejandro collapsed beside you, his body glistening with sweat, his breathing ragged. He pulled you closer, holding you tightly in his arms. “That was… incredible,” he murmured, his voice hoarse and filled with emotion.

Alejandro looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of awe and satisfaction. He gently kissed your forehead, his fingers tracing a path across your skin as if he couldn’t get enough of you. You smile sweetly and hug him.

He held you close, relishing the feeling of you in his arms. He gently kissed the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your hair. "I can't believe that just happened," he murmured, still sounding slightly breathless. "I've dreamed of this for so long, and it was even better than I could have imagined.”

Alejandro hugged you tighter, feeling a wave of protectiveness wash over him. He never wanted to let you go. He wanted to keep you safe, keep you happy, and keep you close. His hand gently caressed your back, feeling the soft curves of your body. "I love you," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. "I love you so much, and I always have. I just never thought it could be real."

Alejandro pulled back slightly, so he could look into your eyes. He wanted to make sure you knew how serious he was, how honest his words were. He cradled your face in his hands and searched your gaze, his expression filled with a mixture of vulnerable and intensity.

[sukioyakio]

Part two to the Drabble

CoolbfSukuna x losergfreader

He won’t ever admit it but after dating you but he now cant stand the quiet.You really did something to him.Your words,your sounds;your voice was like his podcast.

And so when he came home to a ln eerie quiet place.He opened the door; taking off his shoes and placed them near the door entrance.And usually he would see you in the couch or walking right up to him.Or in the bedroom playing one of your greeky games.But no it was just silence.

”hello. . .”

A furrow creased his brow of confusion.

Then he called out your name, "Hello", he waited, a second passed by, nothing, a minute passed by, and still, no sound. He walked the hallway, looking for you, "Hello?!" He called out again. Maybe your in a deep sleep right now.As he opened the bedroom in hope of seeing you there but he was face with a clean neatly room.Making him stern face completely flashed with Confusion.As he looked around every corner thinking your trying to scare him.Which in case you were scaring him with possibility of something happening to you.

But after 20 minutes running and checking each room.One he found you had left your phone and two he hates these emotions he was feeling.

He approached your phone, wondering what you had been up to, but as he looked through it, all of your chats seemed normal. No unusual messages, no secret contacts. In fact, everything seemed normal.

He glanced at your photos and see’s many pictures of him and you and then your social media profiles, anything that could give him a hint of your whereabouts, but there were no clues. Frustrated, he threw the phone on the bed and ran a hand through his hair.

‘I need to relax before i go do something stupid’ he thinks as he walks through his bedroom and onto the bathroom. He needed a shower to stay calm. As he undress his clothes and steps in the lukewarm shower.

Meanwhile you were actually at the mall with sukuna younger brother ( not little anymore his 18) yuji. In the afternoon,You two were having a blast.Strolling through each store that had something anime related. But as you were buying stuff for you but also for sukuna. But already knowing the stuff you bought were stuff he wasn’t going to wear anywhere else.

At least you bought him some accessories that you two wear.

So you went into your purse to grab your phone to see what time it was and always the stuff sukuna was waiting for to release but you search and you found nothing. . .

The realization that your phone was missing hit you like a freight train, the anxiety that washed over you was almost overwhelming.

Yuji's concern voice, however, did little to calm your panic. The thought of losing all those precious pictures and memories was almost too much to bear.

"How did it happen? Have you looked in your bag again? Maybe it just slipped out somewhere," Yuji suggested, trying to stay calm.

Your mind raced with questions, 'What if it got stolen? What about your contact list? What about your pictures?'. You couldn't help but feel vulnerable without your phone.

"Yeah, I checked my bag, and it's not there," you managed to reply, your voice trembling slightly. The anxiety was palpable.

“okay come on,get go check out in the stores,we went!” Yuji respond gently placing back your glasses to your nose roots. And giving you a trustful smile.That helps ease the anxiety.

“o-okay” you replied with a weak smile. As you and yuji retraced your steps throughout the mall.Yuji asking to every employee in the stores for your phone. After a literal two hours of goong everywhere. Your face filled with overwhelming anxious.As you gave up on it. “It o-okay, let just go back home.I promise ill buy you a phone” Yuji announces; pity filled his eyes. As you forces back those tears. As tell yourself that the real thing is better.

‘Who cares about a device when-‘ You think with a proud smile that. ‘Omg i had everything There!!!’ You mentally screamed,Your smile turn into a frown- a sad frown. Yuji pat your shoulders through the uber drive back home.

A heavy silence fell over the car as you drove back home. Yuji fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, his concern for you palpable in the air.

"Don't worry too much about the phone," he finally said, his voice breaking the silence. "We'll figure it out."

As the car approached the house, he glanced over at you, his eyes taking in your sullen expression. "Hey, we're almost there," he said gently.

When you both arrive at your apartment;Yuji is helping you with getting your bags upstairs.Making sure you got there safely.While making you laugh at his stupidity jokes. The air around you was now calm down. You reach your destination , with a relaxed smile.

looking at yuji with a smile. “You could come over,after all i made you go out with to a mall” you chuckled awkwardly. As you see him chuckled back shaking his head. “No it alright! Trust me i pretty much enjoyed my time with you.Your ten time better than sukuna” he says with a playful voice. Making your lips appear a soft smile.And cheeks warm up at the compliment.

As yuji says his final goodbyes and walks away.You stare at his pink disappearing from your view before turning your attention towards the door. you reach out the keys in your purse to open the door and automatically announce your presence in the cold house.

“Im home-“You take the bags into the house and closing the door behind,your head turning around to be reminded of your tall tattooed boyfriend.As his red orbs creates holes in your frame.His greek like jaw clenched with veins visibly showing. His arms crossed straining his muscles against his shirt. And he’s face was something that makes you stop in your tracks. But right now it wasn’t his casual expression more like a angry cat being mad at it owner. And that owner is you,and you dont know why the cat mad.

“hey. . Babe!” You said with a awkward smile,pushing up your glasses up. Your docky eyes staring up at him before retreating to staring his eyes.Scratching your neck.Flustered with how intense his glaze was on your frame. “where were you?” his deep and low voice echoes through the rooms,like a king with authority. You stand still like a kid in trouble but you weren’t. He walks up close to you.His frame creating a shadow surrounding you. Red orbs glowing in his shadows. And he repeated himself.

“Where. were. You?” His voice eerie calm,as a low hmm could be heard from his chest.Yet there was an edge towards his voice.

Taken a back a bit;blinking at him before speaking.“I went out with yuji and we went to the mall i told this to you.Last night but i guess you were too sleepy to hear me.And i think while shopping i forgot my phone-no i loss my phone”. You explain quickly.Pushing up your glasses.

”And I completely forgot to tell you today.Sorry baby!I should’ve used Yuji phone- You rapidly rumble on, without stop.As you constantly push back up your glasses. Sukuna stops you from rumbling on by interrupting you. ”Yea you should’ve” Voice lanced with annoyance.

“I-i” you stamped on your words,trying to reason with him.

“I came here home,to a silent home and when i saw your phone.”He eyes narrowed slightly.His hand run through his pink salamander hair in frustration. “No text,no calls,no annoying voice nagging me,nothing”

Your heart brokes out in peices as you hear him speak his pain.Your eyes widen in guilt. Mind screaming for your own actions. “S-sorry, i-i clearly” you exhaled a breath before. “Please forgive me baby kuna” your eyes plead. his blood crimisons eyes glance at you and scoffed.He didnt answered right away and instead look away.Jaw clenched.As one of his ironic frowns appears on his face.

You got this man worry for nothing. . .he wont admit it, but his mind and body felt like a lot more relaxed. Seeing your docky eyes staring at him and your presence makes his quiet life more interesting.

“Next time,if your loser ass forget the phone again,just dont”he mutters as his glaze on you moves to the kitchen.A Bit of blush spread on upon his frowned face. A smile tugged on your lips as you nodded.”Mhm” you cheerfully said.You walked up to him as you embrace his large frame.Wrapping your small frame around him.Instinctively noticing his body going stiff.As you bury yourself in his chest.

“Got you something. . .” You mumbled in his chest.As His lips parted to say something but scoffed out loud.Awkwardly patting your back.Which you never minded.His eyes soften up. He mumbled back.

“Do i even want to know how they look?” He asked his voice more softer than before. You chuckled at his response shaking your head.Removing your head from his chest to look up at him with greeky smile. “Probably not”.

He rolls his eyes.As the hand he was patting your back came to the top of your head and ruffled your hair. Muttering with a smirk on his lips. “Of course,punk”

Sukuna does not do karaoke. In matter of fact he hates them. The horrifying voices he had to endure.

But god knew you lived with it. In fact, he doesn’t even know why you brought Yuji along.

And now he’s in a karaoke booth;agasinst his right basically. Sitting down in the small couch in the karaoke booth.His legs speard out,hands spayed onto the couch surfaces.Annoyance spreads across his face.As the LED lights hit him with it their colorful glow.

This was not how he wanted to spend his day off at all.

Meanwhile, you and Yuji were practically vibrating with excitement, scrolling through the song selection. It was honestly disgusting how much energy the two of you had. If he had to compare you to animals, you’d both be golden retrievers,overly friendly, overly excitable, and cringey.

‘Loser’ He mutter underneath his lips.His eyes stayed on your frame.

“A-alright Yet get this started” You Announce with a slight stutter.Pointing at sukuna with a smile.“YURR!LET GET IT”Yuji Joined along. As you grab the mic and pass one to yuji. Checking it easliy. As the beats started to take place.The Tv screen showing the song they chosen.

Ocean saga,epic the muiscal by Jorge Rivera.

“ THESE WAVES AND TIDES HAVE Grown in strength and size!!” Your voice singing every words but in his head not the melody.Walking around with over-the top hand gestures.

“IS IT NATURE OR DIVINE OR A BLESSING IN DISGUISE?! OUR HOME’s in sight, This storm’s Our final FIGHT THERE’s no time to die,comrades!!”

Yuji interrupted. “But Sir!” yuji clenching his fist.You turn with your hand up in air. Head down. “EMBRACE FOR A STORMS”Your lips in a full grin as you point a finger out sukuna. As you and yuji doing rolling gestures.

“This has be the worst thing ive ever had the misfortune of listening to” Sukuna sighs rubbing his temples off.As your both performances continued.

“Captain, we will capsize with thesе waves, our fleet will fail” Yuji voice rages out as you approach with your mic close to your mouth to Sukuna. Giving him an small wave and quirky smile. “Have them follow my ship, I'll ensure that we prevail,STORM ,STORM!!”

God please bless him with the patience of listening to you sing-actually to both of you.BOTH of y’all voices weren’t never meant to be in Broadway.

"Idiots" he muttered under his breath "Absolute idiots... singing like that."

And then you have the audacity to ask him to sing play with you and Yuji for one song. “PLEASE!!” You begged

“PLEASEE UNC!!” Another plead from his annoying brother.

“No” he stated flaty; Arm crossed like a wall of Stubbornness. Before continuing. “Andfor the last time—IM Not A UNC!” He roared.

Yuji pouted like a kicked puppy.

You, however, were determined. With a sudden thud, you dropped to your knees, hands clasped together in an act of pure, shameless desperation.

“P-please, babe!! I-i’ll let you do all the chores in the house!!” you stammered, voice trembling with exaggerated sincerity.

Yuji, who had also dropped to his knees beside you, immediately turned to stare at you in abject horror. “What the hell?! You just offered yourself up to a literal CYCLOPS!”

Sukuna hearing-no watching this absurd exchange with mild amusement. Boy was he humor by this. Clicking his tounge against the wall of his mouth. Shaking his head. “What on earth are you two losers talking about ”

Yuji answered first ;his puppy eyes staring into his red orbs.“WE JUST NEED SOMEONE TO PLAY THE ROLE OF POSEIDON PLEASE”His voice full with dramatic urgency.

“PLEASE YOUR LIKE PERFECT FOR HIM!” You followed behind.

Sukuna Stared at yall with unimpressed eyes. Oh,hell no he wasn't going to get dragged by yall.

Right. . .

Nope-You got him singing as Poseidon in the end.At least he gonna gain some reward from you doing a chores. But he know deep down; you weren’t gonna do shit.But hey seeing that smile glowing because of him is worth it.

Hope you like this as well. Hope yall have a wonderful day.Please forgive the grammar errors.

Mutual taglist: @ciggrx @ukininayu @scoobysnakz @lynxslokley @mononijikayu

Your welcome to always comment or reblog as well. I always appreciate your feedback.

Made by @sukioyakio 2025

[kkyiu]

heart locket.

anton lee x reader

. . . confronting your ex was the last thing you needed amid a cold winter.

genre : angst , ex au

warnings : heartbreak , no use of y/n

wc . . 1.1k

You wonder why you dragged yourself to the park at 3 AM to face your ex-boyfriend, but here you are, revisiting the wounds of your heart just by seeing him again.

The first thing you noticed seeing Anton for the first time in what feels like an eternity, was the silver necklace resting on his collarbone. The heart locket was hidden under his coat, but the intricate detailing of the chain could have you recognize it within a heartbeat.

It had been a year and four months since you two called it quits. You try your hardest to manipulate your mind to think it came to a mutual agreement, though it only aches your heart remembering how he took the initiative. After the breakup, Anton's whereabouts were nonexistent to you considering how he blocked you on everything and you were never close with his friends, so there was no way to find out how he was dealing with the breakup.

Only after several breakdowns and disassociations you went through at the expense of the breakup, you were slowly picking up the pieces of your heart. Anton wasn't occupying your thoughts anymore and you started going out with friends again. It’s safe to say you were happy again, thinking the same for the other party, but only way quicker on his side.

Well, the assumption of him moving on was soon to be proven false when you received a text from an unknown number, revealing it to be your ex, asking to meet.

A giant part of you wants to curse him out for breaking no contact to drag you outside in the cold. But another part of you hated the way you willingly let yourself obey his words.

Nevertheless, there he was right in front of you, dressed neatly in a black wool coat that complimented his tall figure which reminded you how much of a beauty he was.

You two were the only figures spotted in the park that was engulfed in darkness, the only sources of light being the dimly lighted broken street lamps and the illuminating bright moon. The bottom half of your face was buried under your big scarf to shield against the sharp breezes. You kept a safe distance from Anton because if you were any closer to him, you'd certainly let your guard down and take the opportunity just to cup his face once more. The necklace kept stealing your attention considering how intently you kept your eye on it.

The silence was finally broken when he said your name, his voice barely above a whisper. Hearing your name come out of his mouth in such a distant tone felt so foreign. "I'll just get straight to the point." He continued, "I regret every bit of it, I mean breaking up with you. I..I thought it was the right thing. My insecurities were eating me alive, and I kept thinking you deserve so, so much more than what I was offering. I know now that I was the biggest coward to do that," the smoke of his breaths was visible due to the cold while you kept listening. "I'm sorry for shutting out after the breakup and causing you pain."

You exhale a wobbly sigh, flashing him your glossy pair of eyes. Your eyes were already filled to the brim with tears and the sight broke him completely. “Anton…” He cut through your words and unknowingly took a step closer toward you, "I found myself going to every place we went, hoping to catch even a tiny glimpse of you, wishing that I could undo this mess." You just listened and listened, carefully taking in every word he said. Out of habit, Anton reached to the tiny necklace pendant of his for solace and you can’t help but crack a tiny sad smile.

You hadn’t realized how much the space between you two had closed and you swear you could catch snowflakes land on his eyelashes, dissolving within milliseconds. Seeing him this vulnerable made you want to take back all the hatred you had for him leaving.

"Your heart locket.” You finally acknowledge, and you notice his slow blinks in realization. He pursed his lips and undoes his clutch, revealing the silver heart-shaped pendant. He was taken aback that you called it out despite it being hidden under his coat.

He still recalls the day you gifted him it for his birthday early in the relationship. He'd proudly show not just you but everyone around him the small black-and-white photo of you smiling brightly. The necklace witnessed every moment of the relationship. From a full day of laughter on the beach, sharing the first kiss, and stargazing nights to petty quarrels, deafening yells, and a pool of tears during the final night of the relationship.

It was as if every memory he shared with you was captured in that tiny little pendant, and anytime it was open, everything would flood back up. He couldn't bring himself to take off the necklace because then it would mean losing you all over again and he couldn't bear to go through that the second time.

"This was all I had left of you." The locket was again closed in his fist and you could see his knuckles turning red from the biting cold. "I wish you knew that you were all I wanted," now it was your turn to speak, "I wish you knew that you were the only light through my darkest times and I didn't need anything else. So, yes, you sitting me down to say those three words hurt me an amount no words can summarize." You lock eyes with him, tiny apologies flooding in his dark orbs with a frown on his face.

Anton took another step closer, "Please..." he breathed your name once again, prompting you to shake your head, "Anton, no. It's been more than a year and I've moved on. I'm happy now." You say, though your words are unconvincing to him. “I swear I'll love you right this time if you just give me this chance." His soft-spoken voice became unsteady and a single tear ran down his cheek. Overtaken by emotions, Anton let his head wearily drop on your shoulder. You stood there frozen, contemplating what to do with your ex-boyfriend physically relying on your smaller build.

Your heart breaks for him and the least you could do was wrap your hands around his waist, hoping to console him with your touch. Getting carried away, your hand found its way to his hair gradually caressing his soft streaks. His muffled sobs accompanied you as you started to feel your wool coat getting damp.

Although it was truly tempting to drop everything and return to his love, you couldn't. For the sake of both of you, maybe locking up the memories in that heart locket will do nothing but good.

[weekendlusting]

A TALE OF FAME

pairing ꪆৎ charles leclerc x ahaana patel ᥫ᭡. f1 driver x bollywood actress au

chapter ꪆৎ 3

summary ꪆৎ she's everything, and he just drives.

note ꪆৎ no hate to any characters used in the story, none of what i write reflects on how they actually are. all my love, happy reading.

prev

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Charles Leclerc sat in his hotel suite, fingers drumming impatiently against the glass of whiskey in his hand. He wasn’t even drinking it—just swirling the amber liquid in the dim light of his room, as if the motion itself could steady his thoughts.

Alex was late. Of course, she was. She had a way of dragging things out, prolonging the inevitable, believing that if she held on long enough, reality would bend to her will.

He heard the sharp knock at his door and exhaled slowly before getting up to open it. Alex stood there, all too put together—her blonde hair in effortless waves, her lips curved in a knowing smirk, like she already thought she’d won whatever game she was playing.

“Chéri,” she purred, stepping past him without waiting for an invitation. “Miss me?”

Charles shut the door and ran a hand through his hair. “Sit down, Alex.”

She turned, arching a perfectly sculpted brow. “Oh? We’re being serious now?” She strolled over to the couch, sitting with the grace of someone who still thought they held all the cards.

Charles didn’t sit. He remained standing, arms crossed, his jaw tight. “I told you this was over.”

Alex let out a soft laugh, tilting her head as she crossed her legs. “And yet, you called me here. Mixed signals, don’t you think?”

“I called you here,” Charles said, voice measured, “because you don’t seem to get it. We are done, Alex. Finished.”

Her smile didn’t waver, but something flickered in her eyes. “Are we?” she said smoothly. “Because I keep hearing your name next to mine. The media still calls me your girlfriend. You haven’t exactly rushed to correct them.”

Charles clenched his fists. “I shouldn’t have to. We broke up. You just refuse to accept it.”

She leaned forward, resting her chin in her palm. “Or maybe you’re just confused. Maybe this—whatever this little tantrum is—will pass, and you’ll realize that I am the only woman who truly understands you.”

Charles let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Tantrum? You think I’m throwing a tantrum? Alex, I am exhausted.”

Her smirk faltered slightly, but she masked it quickly. “Exhausted of what?”

“Of you!” His voice rose, exasperation lacing every word. “Of the mind games. Of the manipulation. Of the constant need to control everything, including me.” He pointed at her. “You think if you show up enough times, if you insert yourself into my life over and over, I’ll just—what? Change my mind?”

Alex’s eyes darkened. “I wouldn’t have to insert myself into your life if certain people weren’t trying to replace me.”

Charles exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And here we go.”

She stood, arms folding as she stepped closer to him. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about, Charles. That little actress you’ve been parading around—Ahaana.”

Charles’s eyes snapped to hers, his posture stiffening. “Ahaana has nothing to do with this.”

Alex scoffed. “Please. You think I don’t see the way you looked at her that day?” She stepped closer, voice dripping with venom. “She is nothing. She’s a novelty. A shiny new toy for you to play with. And once the excitement fades, you’ll realize what I’ve always known—you and I are inevitable.”

Charles’s jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. “You are delusional, Alex. And actually fucking crazy if you think that Ahaana has anything to do with this.”

Her lips curled. “Am I?”

“Yes,” he snapped, stepping forward, closing the space between them. “I have never—never—been more certain about anything in my life. We are over. I am breaking up with you. I don’t love you. I don’t even like you.”

She inhaled sharply, but before she could speak, Charles continued.

“You want to know why? Because I see you now. For who you really are. You’re not the woman I fell for—you’re a version of her, twisted and bitter, clinging onto something that doesn’t exist anymore.” He exhaled harshly. “You’re right about one thing. I do look at Ahaana differently. Because she isn’t like you.”

Alex’s face twisted, her hands curling into fists. “She will never be me.”

“Thank God for that.”

The silence between them was thick, charged with something dangerously close to hatred. Charles had never wanted to hate Alex—had never even imagined he could—but looking at her now, seeing the pure, unfiltered malice in her eyes, he realized he might be close.

She straightened, lifting her chin. “You’ll regret this.”

“No,” he said quietly. “I won’t.”

She stared at him, something almost desperate flickering across her features, before she masked it with indifference. “Fine,” she said. “Have it your way.”

Charles said nothing. He just watched as she turned, her heels clicking against the floor as she stormed toward the door. But before she left, she paused, glancing back over her shoulder.

“This isn’t over,” she said, voice eerily calm.

And then, she was gone.

Charles stood there for a long moment, his heart pounding, his fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms.

But then he exhaled, shaking his head, as if shedding the last remnants of whatever hold Alex had on him.

For the first time in a long time, he felt free.

Meanwhile not too far away,the hotel room was bathed in soft hues of twilight, the warm amber glow of the setting sun spilling through the sheer curtains. Ahaana sat curled up in a chair by the window, her phone resting idly on the armrest. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the rim of a coffee mug, long gone cold. The day had been uneventful, yet her mind was anything but still. The ghosts of the past lingered in the shadows, whispering doubts, tugging at old wounds she had worked so hard to forget.

India.

Film city.

Even the thought of it sent a strange chill through her veins. It wasn’t fear—not exactly. It was the weight of something unfinished, something unresolved, lurking in the corners of her memory. The industry that had once been her playground had also turned its back on her when she had needed it the most. And yet, here she was, being offered a way back in.

What the fuck is happening? She sighed to herself, rubbing her temple.

The phone buzzed suddenly, pulling her out of her thoughts. She glanced at the screen, expecting yet another half-hearted PR email or a message from her manager. But instead, a name lit up the display, and for the first time that day, she felt something shift inside her.

Varun Dhawan.

She hesitated for only a second before answering. “Hello?”

“Finally! Madam has answered my call.” His voice was light, teasing, filled with the familiar warmth that had always made her feel like home.

Ahaana huffed out a small laugh. “Hi, Varun.”

“Hi, she says. That’s all I get? After ignoring me for days?”

“I haven’t been ignoring you.”

“Really? Because Karan and I were starting to think you had developed some severe phone phobia. Should we be concerned?”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Dramatic? Me? Never.” His tone dropped slightly, losing some of its playful edge. “Ahaana, you know why I’m calling.”

Her smile faltered. Of course, she did.

“You and Karan are relentless,” she muttered, leaning back against the chair.

“Because we believe in you,” he countered immediately. “And because we know you still love this. Don’t pretend you don’t.”

She exhaled slowly, staring out at the dimming sky. “It’s not that simple, Varun.”

“Yes, it is.” His voice softened. “You were born for this, Ahaana. And you know it. Whatever happened before—”

She stiffened slightly. “Let’s not talk about that.”

There was a pause, as if he was choosing his next words carefully. Then, he sighed. “Fine. But don’t let the past dictate your future. You’re not that person anymore.”

She wanted to believe that. She really did.

“You don’t have to do this alone, you know. And we’re still your people, Ahaana.”

She closed her eyes for a moment. She had spent so long pushing everything away, convincing herself that she didn’t need anyone, that she had forgotten what it felt like to have people who cared. People who wanted her back.

Then, before she could respond, another voice chimed in from the background. “Has she said yes yet?”

Karan Johar.

Ahaana let out a small laugh despite herself. “Karan, are you eavesdropping?”

“I don’t eavesdrop. I supervise.”

Varun snorted. “He’s been pacing for the past ten minutes, by the way. I think he might actually combust if you say no.”

Karan’s voice came through again, a touch more serious this time. “Darling, you’re a star. Stop dimming your own light.”

Ahaana stared at the city skyline, a myriad of thoughts swirling inside her. But for the first time in a long time, the hesitation didn’t feel quite as heavy. Maybe Varun was right. Maybe Karan was right. Maybe it was time to stop running.

She inhaled deeply, a quiet moment of clarity settling over her. Then, she spoke.

“Okay.”

A beat of silence. Then Varun whooped so loudly she had to pull the phone away from her ear. “YES! Ladies and gentlemen, she’s back!”

Karan’s relieved sigh came through the speaker. “Finally. I was this close to staging a full intervention.”

Ahaana laughed, shaking her head. “You two are impossible.”

“And you love us for it,” Varun quipped.

She did. More than she cared to admit.

And maybe, just maybe, it was time to come home.

The gang had game nights far too often then they'd like to admit, Max and Kelly were ofcourse there, Ahaana was there, Carlos and Rebecca joined, Lando somehow always inserted himself in even though everytime he cheated and got himself uninvited. Even Alex Albon and Lily joined them from time to time, but couldn't make it this time and Charles was with them for the first time ever.

The night was young, but the energy in the room felt like the start of a Grand Prix itself—fast, loud, and filled with the potential for absolute disaster. The gang had gathered in Max’s hotel suite for a game night, and true to form, it had already descended into chaos.

“I’m telling you, Lando cheats,” Ahaana declared, pointing an accusatory finger at him as he smirked from his spot on the couch. “There is no way you won that round fairly.”

Lando, lounging back with all the ease of someone who had just scammed his way into victory, dramatically placed a hand on his chest. “How dare you? I am an honest man.”

“Honest, my foot,” Kelly interjected, shaking her head. “Even Charles saw it, didn’t you?”

Charles, who had been uncharacteristically quiet for the past few minutes, blinked. “Huh?”

“See? He wasn’t even paying attention,” Lando scoffed. “Probably too busy thinking about how free he is now that he’s finally dumped his psychotic ex.”

That got everyone’s attention.

Rebecca, who had been stacking poker chips, froze mid-motion. Max, who had been snickering at Lando’s misfortune, raised a brow. Ahaana, who had been preoccupied trying to figure out how Lando had managed to win five rounds in a row, looked up.

“You finally did it?” Carlos leaned forward, grinning. “You actually told Alex to get lost?”

Charles exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. “It was not exactly smooth.”

“Of course, it wasn’t,” Max said. “She’s like an overly attached leech.”

Kelly winced. “Oof. Harsh, but fair.”

“I don’t even want to know the details,” Lando said, tossing a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Actually, no. I do. Tell us. In detail.”

Charles groaned. “Why are you all like this?”

“Because this is the most entertainment we’ve had all season,” Rebecca quipped. “Now spill.”

Charles rolled his eyes, but he recounted the story of his final conversation with Alex. The room responded accordingly—with gasps, laughter, and a few muttered curses aimed at Alex’s name. When he finished, Ahaana just shook her head, unimpressed.

“She’s delusional,” she said simply. “Absolutely delusional.”

“I would’ve paid money to see her reaction when you told her it was over,” Max admitted, grinning.

Charles smirked. “It was… satisfying.”

“Okay, enough about the she-devil,” Lando said, stretching. “Let’s get back to the game before Ahaana starts accusing me of cheating again.”

“You do cheat,” she said without hesitation.

“I do not—”

“Lando, you have a history of cheating at literally every game we’ve ever played,” Max said, unimpressed.

“I prefer to think of it as strategic improvisation.”

“Strategic bullshit,” Rebecca muttered.

The next hour was filled with absolute mayhem. There was yelling. There was a near-brawl between Carlos and Lando over an Uno reverse card. At some point, Kelly got so frustrated she threw a playing card at Max’s head, which only made him laugh harder. Charles, for the most part, found himself entertained just watching it all unfold.

Ahaana, in particular, seemed to come alive in the chaos. Her laughter was light, effortless, and every time she rolled her eyes at Lando or tossed a witty remark at Max, Charles found himself watching her just a little too long.

“Alright, alright,” Ahaana said, throwing her hands up in surrender after another brutal loss. “I need a break before I throw Lando out the window.”

“Jokes on you,” Lando said. “I’d land gracefully.” To which Max snorted.

Ahaana got up and stretched, and that’s when she casually dropped, “Oh, by the way, I officially start shooting for Jigra in 17 days.”

The room went silent.

“What?” Max was the first to react, blinking.

“You’re actually going back?” Lando added.

Rebecca gasped. “Finally! You’re returning to the big screen!”

Ahaana smiled, a little softer this time. “Yeah. It’s time.”

There was a beat of silence before Max, ever the older brother figure, crossed his arms. “Are you sure?”

She looked at him, understanding the weight behind his question. “I am.”

Max studied her for a long moment, then exhaled. “Alright. If anyone gives you trouble—”

“I know, I know.” She grinned. “I’ll call my attack dog Verstappen.”

He smirked. “Damn right.”

After a long round of jenga and then stuffing their faces in food, the last slice of pizza appeared on the table, and the room instantly went silent, all eyes locked on it.

Ahaana leaned forward, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Well, look who’s in the spotlight now.”

Carlos didn’t miss a beat. “I’ve been eyeing that slice for the last ten minutes.”

“Oh, please,” Ahaana shot back. “You just noticed it now because it’s the last one.”

Lando raised an eyebrow. “You’re really gonna fight over pizza? This is an all-time low, even for you.”

“Shut up, Lando,” Carlos grumbled. “It’s mine.”

Max chuckled from the side. “This is gonna be good.”

Ahaana picked up the slice like it was some sort of prized possession. “I’m just saying, I’ve had a long day. So I think I’m entitled to this.”

Carlos shot up from his seat, but Ahaana held the slice just out of reach, her smirk widening. “Nice try.”

Max shook his head, watching the two of them. “This is the dumbest thing I’ve seen all week.”

Ahaana, sensing victory, took a deliberate bite of the pizza. “Too slow, boys.”

Lando leaned back, popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth. “Well, that was anticlimactic.”

Later that night, after the raucous energy had settled slightly, Charles found himself watching Ahaana from across the room. She was laughing at something Lando had said, her head thrown back, eyes crinkled in amusement. The dim lighting softened her features, casting warm shadows over her skin, making her look almost ethereal.

He didn’t know when it started, this quiet admiration of her. Maybe it was when she first walked into his life with that effortless confidence, like she belonged in every room she entered. Maybe it was when he realized she wasn’t just sharp-tongued but also deeply, frustratingly kind. Or maybe it was moments like this, when she wasn’t doing anything extraordinary—just laughing, existing—and yet, she managed to pull his entire attention like a force of gravity.

There was something in the way she carried herself—unapologetic, bold, yet with an underlying grace that was hard to ignore. She was an enigma, a storm and a lull all at once. And he was starting to realize he liked that about her. A little too much.

“Are you staring at Ahaana?”

Charles nearly choked on his drink. He turned sharply to see Max smirking at him, amusement flickering in his eyes.

“No,” he denied, a little too quickly.

Max hummed, unconvinced. “Sure. And I’m a level headed person when angered.”

Charles groaned. “Can you not?”

Max chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “Oh no, mate. I definitely can.”

Across the room, Ahaana caught his gaze, a small, soft smile playing on her lips. Charles smiled back but quickly looked away because he was scared his blush would be way too evident, but the warmth on his face lingered and Ahaana caught it anyway, chuckling a bit at the very handsome man, which Charles heard.

Yeah. He was in trouble.

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ᝰ.ᐟ third part! hope you guys like it!

next

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tags @seonghwaexile @bookishprophecy @justadesirebel @peterholland04 @bakingpiastries @ricciardosheart @mikefaistgf @sp1rl @charlesgirl16 @leila-030304 @uhcalli @blahblechblah @phobiccneel

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© weekendlusting

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[separatist-apologist]

Lying In Between The Memories

You could call it paradise but it looks just like hell to me

Summary: Following the blood rite, Gwyneth Berdara can't shake the memories of a life long-gone.

The shadowsinger can't seem to move on after five centuries of loving the same woman.

Together, they'll have to carve a new path forward.

Read on AO3 | Previous Chapter

[ongoing TW for Sexual Assault]

If Gwyn didn’t force herself out of bed, she’d never leave. 

In Gwyn’s defense, she’d tried to leave multiple times only for Azriel to open his eyes and drag her back. She must have wasted half the week that way, happy to forget the horrors that were waiting just outside the bedroom door. She didn’t want to deal with the Day Court scholar, with Gunnar, or anything else that had been plaguing them. Azriel was good at keeping her mind preoccupied—one slide of his hand up her thigh evaporated whatever anxieties she had.

Save for the ones that centered around him. Three times now, she’d offered to get up and offer him something to eat, and each time he looked like he wanted it before he pulled her back, claiming he didn’t want to see her go, even for a moment.

But surely he wanted to cement what shimmered between them? 

Gwyn was starting to think Azriel didn’t want that at all. The thought pulled her from her dream, lost to the darkness of his bedroom and new insecurities worming their way through her chest. Azriel was asleep, for once—softly snoring as he laid on his back, his wings splayed out beneath him. One hand lay on his bare stomach, and for a moment, Gwyn was tempted to wake him up with her tongue and teeth. 

He’d like it, she thought. Every time she touched him, he watched with open-mouthed wonder, which broke her heart a little. Before, she’d assumed that he didn’t feel like he deserved it, and she’d wanted to prove that he did, but now…

Gwyn swung a leg over the edge of the bed slowly, watching to see if the spymaster would feel her leave him. Azriel didn’t move, his naked chest rising and falling slowly. He needed the sleep—she did, too, though she wasn’t going to get it until she talked to Nesta. 

It was its own form of torture, leaving him in that bed so she could try and get inside his head. Why not just ask him, some more rational part of her mind screamed. She’d been trying, for whatever that was worth. 

Slipping a night dress over her head once she was in the hall, afraid the material would be so loud it would wake him, Gwyn made her way to Nesta and Cassian’s bedchamber. Cracking the door, she found the curtains pulled half open so a beam of silvery moonlight fell over Cassian.

Who was awake.

Knife in hand.

Staring straight at her.

Gwyn raised her palms slowly, but Cassian was already sliding the dagger back on the bedside table. “Can I talk to Nesta?” she whispered.

“In the morning,” Cassian grumbled, wrapping his arms around Nestas sleeping form. They’d woken her, though. Nesta’s head popped up from Cassian’s chest, blinking against the dark.

“Gwyn?”

“Tell her to go back to sleep,” Cassian grumbled as Nesta wiped drool from her cheek. 

“Is everything okay?” Nesta asked, pulling out of Cassian’s embrace while he complained into a pillow. “Oh go sleep with Azriel if you’re that lonely.”

“I might,” Cassian retorted, rolling onto his stomach. He wasn’t wearing clothes, Gwyn realized, though Nesta mercifully had a night dress on. “I’ll bet he’d hold me if I asked.”

“He’d let you be the little spoon,” Nesta agreed, shaking her head back and forth before they made their way back out into the hall. 

Cassian flung a pillow at Nesta just as she shut the door, causing it to thump softly against the door.

“Did they…?”

“Probably,” Nesta said with a shrug, answering her unspoken question. Had Cassian and Azriel ever done anything together. Gwyn would ask…in a decade, or so when Azriel wasn’t so guarded. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Azriel,” she whispered, following Nesta up the steps to the living area. They both flopped down on the little loveseat, Nesta yanking a knitted blanket from the back to cover them both. “I think…I think he wishes the bond hadn’t happened.”

Nesta, who’d been slow and sleepy right up until that moment, snapped to attention. All the lights in the room flickered on, the house responding to Nesta's mood and magic. 

“How could you think that?” Nesta asked, brow furrowed. “He is always with you.”

“The bond pulls us together, but I’ve tried…” gods, but the whole thing was so embarrassing. “I’ve tried to accept the bond, and every time I offer, he distracts me until I forget.”

Nesta’s frown deepened. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I thought he’d want to, but…he doesn’t.” Gwyn swallowed the lump forming in her throat. Mates were rare—so rare she’d never expected one, never given having one any thought until she’d felt the bond between them. To tell Nesta, who was mated herself and happy about it, felt like another miserable blow. 

“Fuck him,” Nesta said, resting her head on the back of the couch. “Like he’d ever do better.”

“Is there anyone else?” Gwyn questioned, heart hammering. Nesta’s eyes were unfocused for a moment, brow furrowed over some memory she’d clearly forgotten. Gwyn knew Nesta was never going to be honest if there was—but there was. Or, there had been before he’d left, anyway. She’d never thought to ask—and she should. Ask him, anyway. Right then, though, Gwyn would have preferred to be swallowed whole by the earth itself.

“He loves you, though?”

Gwyn shrugged. “He says he does.”

“But you don’t believe him?” Nesta probed, some of her anger shifting into an emotion Gwyn thought she preferred not to see. It was pity. 

“Why won’t he accept the bond if he loves me? There’s someone else—”

“It would be easier if there was, wouldn’t it?” Nesta commented, angling her body to face Gwyn. 

Gwyn paused. “Why do you say that?”

Nesta considered her words, nose scrunched. “If he doesn’t want the bond…you can walk away.”

“Why would I want that?”

“Why would you want that?” Nesta asked with genuine curiosity. 

“I don’t.”

“But you’re out here talking to me, when you could just ask Az himself.” 

“I can’t just ask, hey Az, are you in love with another female—”

“No. Just you.”

Azriel’s voice drew their attention, his presence in the doorway catching them both by surprise. He stood there, arms crossed over his bare chest, his expression unreadable. How long had he been there? How had he known where she’d gone?

His shadows swarmed toward her, slinking through her unbound hair all the while whispering what she thought were apologies. Gwyn couldn’t speak their language, though she thought some part of her understood most of what they tried to convey.

“Traitors,” she whispered, watching as his shadows recoiled ever so slightly. 

“Talk to him,” Nesta whispered loudly, throwing Azriel a wink. “Did Cass climb in bed with you?”

Azriel didn’t smile. “Not tonight.”

“He’s getting jealous,” Nesta replied, fingers skimming Azriel’s arm before she slipped out. She whispered something to Azriel Gwyn didn’t hear, and only knew was spoken because he turned his head to the side so he could listen.

“I won’t,” he murmured in response, hazel eyes falling on her again.

“Goodnight, Gwyn,” Nesta called over her shoulder. Neither Gwyn nor Azriel spoke until Nesta was gone, though only Azriel heard the sound of Nesta’s door click shut. He took a careful half-step into the living room, his expression betraying nothing that might help her.

“You weren’t in bed,” he said flatly. Why? 

“I couldn’t sleep,” she replied, her stomach twisting nervously. She’d wanted to talk to Nesta, to have her friend reassure her that everything was fine and she didn’t need to worry. Not Azriel, whom she’d never really had an honest conversation with. They were too new, didn’t know each other well enough to delve into the complicated and messy history of their pasts. 

“I’m not in love with anyone else,” he said when it was clear she wasn’t going to say anything beyond not being able to sleep. He’d have to make the first move. Azriel took another half step toward her. “Only you.”

“Then why…” she tugged a strand of her hair. “Forget it. Forget I said—”

“Tell me.”

“Az,” she half pleaded, but he wasn’t letting it go. She could see the shape of his will, the determined set of his jaw—he was going to make her tell him everything she’d thought, every confession to Nesta, and then…she didn’t know. 

“I’ve done something, and now you think I don’t care for you,” he said, his voice cracking at the edges. He was coming closer now, walking as though he were being pulled. His wings were tight against his back, which she understood meant he was nervous—protecting himself from some threat.

From her. 

Gwyn turned on the sofa to face him as he came around the side, sinking softly to one knee, and then the other so they were almost eye level. He’d placed himself at her feet, looking up at her with the same expression she’d seen priestesses gaze at the statue of the Mother. 

“Why don’t you want to accept our bond?” she asked, forcing the words out of her mouth. “You keep putting of off.”

Azriel’s eyes fluttered shut, head turning to the side as though he couldn’t stand for her to see him. Instinctively, Gwyn’s fingers found his chin, turning his face so he had to look at her.

“I do want that,” he managed, his voice hoarse. “I want it…I want it more than anything.”

“Then why—”

“You’re so young,” he said, the words falling out like a rush of water. “You have your whole life and I…I had that time. It’s wrong to leash you to me, and I…I would wait. I will wait—”

“Don’t you know me at all?” she interrupted, her frustration warring with a giddy sort of joy. She’d fully expected the opposite—for him to say she was broken beyond repair, that she was too damaged to love, too imperfect for the likes of him. He’d indulge in the bond, but he didn’t want a life.

Azriel’s eyes shone like moonlight. 

“I don’t want another male. I’ve never wanted any male—”

“The bond—”

“Merely strengthens what was already there,” she said, thumb sweeping over his stubbled cheek. “It was always going to be you, or no one.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You don’t get to tell me what I know,” she shot back. The corners of Azriel’s eyes crinkled though he didn’t smile. He wanted to, though, but was too comfortable denying himself anything that might bring him pleasure or joy. “I know that’s true, and with a century of space, it would still be your bed I crawled into every night.”

There was a beat as Gwyn imagined what Azriel was offering, a frown pulling at her mouth. “You’d let me sleep with other males?”

“Yes,” he agreed immediately, though there was a darkness in her expression. “But afterward, I might kill them for it.”

“How is that letting me find myself?”

“I’m not hurting you,” he replied, absurd and earnest as ever. 

“What if I fell in love with him?”

A growl slipped from his throat, his amusement gone, replaced by cold, unfeeling anger 

“See?” she whispered. “Why torture yourself when I’m here, and I want you?”

“And when you wake up in a century riddled with regret?” he asked her, cocking his head to the side. “What will I do, then?”

“Wake up from the terrible nightmare you had,” Gwyn shot back with a smile. “It’s not going to happen. I don’t like other males, Az. You are the only exception.”

Azriel rose to his feet, offering her his hand. “Come on,” he murmured. Gwyn followed after him, half tripping down the stairs though never once letting go of him. He took her to the kitchen, pulling open drawers and cabinets until he found was he was looking for.

A loaf of crusty, day old bread. Using a dagger he inexplicably had in his sleep shorts, Azriel sliced two pieces and set them on a plate while Gwyn protested that she was supposed to do it. 

“I want to,” he said, ending the argument swiftly. She let him slide that unbuttered piece of bread into her mouth, wishing something would happen. It seemed so unfair it had to be females, at least in this one instance. 

“Your turn,” he whispered, looking like a caged animal about to bolt. He didn’t think she’d do it—he expected her to back down. As if Gwyn had ever backed down from a challenge. She was slow, holding his gaze as she brought that piece of bread to his lips.

Azriel’s fingers curled around her wrist, holding her hand against his mouth, teeth gently nipping at the tips. 

“Do you feel it?” he asked, pulling on the cord between them. Of course she did, though before it had been a string tied around her rib with a knot she could have undone with some effort. Something that could be cut—snapped. Now, though, it was gold plated, firmly attached like another muscle she was only aware of when there was an ache.

Azriel kissed the palm of her hand. “Do you want a mating ceremony?” “No,” she said, the word bursting out of her with a laugh. “Do you?”

He shook his head back and forth. “It’s no one's business,” he murmured, though in truth, they simply didn’t like the fuss, being the center of everyone's attention. His friends would turn it into a spectacle because they loved him, and her friends would want the same. Gwyn was content with the bread, the dark, quiet kitchen, and whatever came next.

It was an eternity.

And she was glad for it.

—

Azriel knew Rhys knew the second he stepped into the room. Nostrils flared, eyes wide—there was only joy on Rhys’s face, followed by a flurry of unspoken questions. His friend knocked on Azriel’s warded mind, but Azriel wasn’t ready to share, yet. He was only at the River House because he wanted to ensure Eris Vanserra stayed far, far away from his mate.

Who was upstairs.

Sleeping.

In his bed.

He smothered a smile in favor of leaning against the fireplace mantle. 

“Where’s Feyre?” Cassian asked, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. It wasn’t even dawn, yet, and none of them wanted to be up, least of all Azriel who had foregone sleeping at all in favor. He’d put Gwyn to sleep—with his cock, no less—not an hour before. 

Was it strange to watch her sleep? Perching himself in the windowsill, Azriel had caught himself mesmerized by the way her hair fell around her face, how her chest rose and fall so steadily he could have set a clock to it. He wanted to touch her.

Gods, he wanted to touch her.

Once again, Eris Vanserra was in his way. 

“Asleep,” Rhys replied, eyes still pinned to Azriel. “She had a long night—”

“Can you please, just…” Cassian raised a finger to Rhys, looking as if he were at the end of his rope. “She’s like a sister to me.”

“With the baby,” Rhys finished, grinning sharply. “One day, when you have children of your own, you’ll experience a different sort of late night satisfaction.” Cassian mumbled something under his breath Azriel didn’t quite catch. He didn’t dare let himself imagine it—children, with Gwyn’s shock of cinnamon hair and teal eyes…and his wings.

The yearning he felt was so powerful it nearly brought him to his knees. There was time—infinite time, truly. It didn’t stop him from wanting, though. 

He smothered the thought as Eris strolled in, crisp as always, though this time crowned with the laurel leaves that marked him High Lord of Autumn. Even the air around him felt charged, causing the hair on the back of Azriel’s neck to stand on end. Eris deserved to be ripped limb from limb, and now he’d never get the chance.

Eris’s eyes swept over the room, his displeasure plain. “You know why I’m here.”

“I don’t,” Rhys lied, sitting in his chair, fingers steepled in front of his mouth. “I’m surprised you have the time, given the rumors of civil war…”

Eris’s amber eyes flashed. “Where is she?”

“Who?” Cassian questioned, but they all knew. They were here to play a role—the terrifying, brutish males of the Night Court that reveled in violence for fun. Eris ought to know better by then, but mates did something to a male. Made them less cautious, less careful, and Eris certainly wasn’t an exception. Azriel might have pitied him had he not kidnapped Gwyn. 

“Arina. I want her,” Eris declared, his hand inching toward the ceremonial sword hanging from his hip.

Rhys considered this. “I’m not familiar with her.”

Azriel shook his head back and forth as if to say, doesn’t ring a bell.

“I might have had her in my bed last—”

“Oh cut the shit,” Eris snarled, his temper already at the surface. “We can all walk away with something we want, or I can call all the other High Lords and force you to hand her over.”

“What do you think we want?”

“Knowledge,” Eris replied, holding Rhys’s gaze. “My father made several bargains that you might like knowing about. I might be willing to share them, even—if you produce Arina.”

“Last I heard—and I’m not saying she’s here—she was asking to return to Helion.”

“Fuck Helion,” Eris snarled, his patience shredding. He looked ready to start a fight, which caused both Cassian and Azriel to straighten themselves out. Rhys was their friend and their High Lord—another High Lord threatening him, especially on their soil, was unforgivable. “She’s a pawn to you, so use her.”

“I want to know the deal he made with Montessere,” Rhys replied.

“Swear you’ll give me my mate if I tell you. Immediately,” Eris replied. He wasn’t stupid—bargains were specific or they weren’t worth much. Rhys could agree and then keep her for the next six centuries and Eris would simply have to wait.

Azriel would have liked to see it.

Rhys stood. “Fine. I’ll return her to you this morning if you outline the deal.”

“There was no deal,” Eris said once they’d shaken hands, his expression triumphant. “Not with Montessere, anyway—Gunnar is merely an undead puppet.”

The room was utterly silent. “Undead?” Cassian finally asked. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“He’s dead.” Eris declared, as if Azriel hadn’t seen him with his own eyes. He’d been unwell, certainly, and perhaps paler than Azriel would have liked…but dead? Wouldn’t he have noticed that? “His soul has left his body, and he’s being moved around by the god of death.”

“He can do that?” Cassian asked when no one else spoke.

“Apparently so,” Rhys murmured, running a hand down his chin. “How do you know this?”

“Beron was paranoid—he kept notes on everyone. Every conversation, every interaction, every realization. I left his body there, and it's very likely Koschei has it, too. Beron seemed to think he could reach us on the wind, whispering promises and power in exchange for his bidding.”

Some small realization slithered over Rhys’s face, smothered before anyone but Azriel caught it. 

“What was the deal?”

“Power, of course,” Eris replied, holding Rhysand’s gaze. “High King of Prythian, his enemies destroyed and dead.”

“What did Beron give him for it?”

Eris only sighed. “I don’t know. He didn’t say, didn’t write it down…or it was destroyed before I found it. Some of the noble families ransacked his office while I was quelling a rebellion up north, and when I returned, things were missing.”

Rhys stood. “How are you dealing with them?”

Eris’ smile held no joy. “Death.”

“So the King of Montessere is dead, puppetted by a god, and at least one High Lord here is doing his bidding. How many others?”

“You read minds, not me,” Eris replied flippantly. “Now give me my mate.”

“The cipher remains here,” Azriel said, speaking for the first time. Arina had stolen it from Gwyn, and Azriel firmly believed only Gwyn could finish deciphering that book that might help explain what Koschei’s plan was. Maybe the Day Court scholar was smart—though, she was tethered to Eris Vanserra, which certainly didn’t lend any credibility to her cause. 

“Fine,” Eris snapped, unaware of its importance. 

“I’ll get her,” Cassian murmured, stretching out his wings. Cassian was likely the only one of the four of them on good enough standing with the scholar to convince her to let him touch her—

Azriel was pretty sure she’d claw out his eyes if he came within a hundred feet of her.

There was no love lost between them—she’d stolen from Gwyn and refused to hand it back, even after everything. 

Arina was brought down ten excruciating minutes later, disheveled and still in her night clothes. Eris looked ready to murder someone. 

“Did you touch her—”

“Of course I touched her,” Cassian snapped, shaking out his hands before plopping back to the sofa. “We had to fly down here. Unless you’d prefer I drop her—”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Eris managed, looking her over. Arina looked irate, turning from Eris to Rhys.

“You’re sending me with him?”

Rhys only shrugged. “He’s the only one asking for you.”

It was unnecessarily cruel, in Azriel’s opinion, though not a lie. Helion hadn’t been begging for her back, likely because he trusted Rhys not to hurt her. Eris didn’t, though. Eris looked like he wanted to touch her and though it was cruel, Azriel hoped she never let him. 

“The alliance between us stands,” Rhys called as Eris turned to leave, having shrugged out of his jacket to drape it over her shoulders. 

Eris glanced backward. “I don’t want to see our land ravaged by an unchained god.”

It was good enough, at least for the moment. Eris swept out a moment later, hand hovering against Arina’s back though he didn’t dare touch her. It was well deserved, seeing Eris suffer. For once, Azriel got what Eris couldn’t buy his way into.

Rhys waited until the front door slammed closed. 

“Where is Elain and Lucien?” Rhys asked, his voice just a shade too casual. Had Rhys told Cassian what he’d confided in Azriel a week earlier? 

“He was taking her to Spring with him,” Cassian told Rhys. Rhys filled Cassian in, leaving out the parts regarding the potential originations of Azriel’s magic. That wasn’t confirmed—they couldn’t prove it. All Azriel had was his suspicions and fears. He wasn’t sure he wanted Cassian to know until he himself knew for sure.

Cassian handed Azriel the cypher while Rhys asked them to leave, intending to call the pair back to Night. He’d ordered Cassian not to say a word to Nesta about it, admitting he hadn’t told Feyre the whole truth, either. The Archeron’s would circle around Elain, with Nesta and Feyre creating a wall of power they’d make the rest of them punch through in order to get to Elain, regardless if she was working with Koschei or not.

Azriel had never been more grateful to not be mated to one of the sisters as he was right then. They’d meet again once Rhys had his answers regarding Elain, and then…Azriel knew they’d be preparing for war. How did you kill an immortal god? Amren likely knew, but Azriel didn’t think he wanted to.

Not then, anyway.

He and Cassian made their way back to their respective mates, though Cassian’s mood was much darker. He loathed being told to keep secrets from Nesta, his loyalty between his friend and High Lord, and his mate constantly at odds. 

Gwyn’s cypher was on the desk in her room, put there by his shadows after Cassian had ordered Arina to hand it over. Gwyn would be delighted, which was all he cared about right then. Picking it up, he sat on the edge of the bed, intending to watch her sleep.

Gwyn peeked open an eye. “Come back to bed.

“I have something for you,” he murmured. She leaned upward, hair spilling over her shoulders like molten fire. She was so beautiful it made his teeth ache. Azriel handed her the slips of paper, unable to hold back a smile when her own expression lit up with joy.

“How?” she breathed.

“Eris made an exchange—this was part of the bargain.”

Gwyn bit her bottom lip, apprehension sliding over her features. “You let him take her?”

“It wasn’t my choice,” Azriel reminded her. “Why?”

“It’s just…I was going to teach her how to use a knife.”

“It’s not that complicated,” Azriel assured her, ignoring that he’d once given Gwyn dagger lessons. He simply couldn’t bring himself to care, and wished Gwyn cared less, too. He knew what she saw, though—a defenseless female being delivered into the hands of a cruel male.

How many people would think the same had happened to her? Many, if he had to guess. Most everyone outside of Velaris, even. He didn’t have a polite reputation, after all.

Gwyn set the cipher to the side table by the bed before reaching for his bicep to drag him back to the pillows. Azriel kicked his boots off quickly, wishing his clothes had fewer buckles. It would be a nightmare to get them all off—and he wasn’t going to use brute strength to tear them apart. High quality leathers were hard to come by.  

She let him strip down to his underthings before stopping him, fingers squeezing his wrist. “Lay with me?” she whispered into the dark as if she’d asked him for something costly—something he wouldn’t freely give her.

Azriel clenched his jaw, not out of anger, but nerves. Just lay? Propping himself against a wall of pillows, he stretched out his arm while she curled into his side, cheek pressed to his chest. Cautiously, Azriel ran his fingers through her hair, letting the silken strands drape against his skin like rivulets of water. 

“Are you afraid?” she asked him after a heartbeat of silence.

“I’m not afraid of anything,” Azriel lied. It seemed, lately, that he was afraid of so much. His fears had centralized, coalescing around the female cradled against his body. For the first time in

Azriel’s life, he had something that was his—something he could truly lose. 

“Well, I am,” Gwyn admitted, fingers splayed against his bare chest. Azriel took her hand, pressing a kiss to her fingertips. 

“You don’t need to be afraid of anything,” Azriel told her, thinking he could carry enough fear for them both. “I’m here.”

There was something to be said for resisting the urge to give in to the lust he felt for her, the instinct to sink into a frenzy. If he was intentional, he thought he could keep her in bed until she was with a child and—

Azriel’s throat constricted.

A child.

A family.

Not like the one he’d had as a boy, violent and angry and fearful, but one of laughter. For a moment it all stretched out before him—Gwyn, bright and happy, that smile illuminating the shadows clinging to the corners of the room. He could hear the sounds of children laughing, their feet pounding on the floors as they jumped from furniture. He could see it—his wings, her eyes. 

He wouldn’t yell, like his father had. Not at Gwyn, not at his children. Azriel exhaled a breath, lost in the fantasy. 

He’d need things—like a home, for one. If he told Feyre, she’d go about purchasing something ostentatious and close, but Azriel thought he’d like something smaller and outside the city. Something close to Nesta and Emerie. Cassian had talked about moving to Illryia, a thought that had repulsed Azriel at the time, but maybe…maybe that would be so bad.

He could move his mother in, too. He thought Gwyn would like her.

He knew she’d love Gwyn.

By the time Azriel returned to the present, Gwyn was asleep. That wasn’t how he’d wanted the night to go—he’d hoped she’d keep his ears warm with her thighs, if nothing else. Still, it seemed sacrilegious to wake her, even if Azriel was convinced he’d never fall asleep. 

He did—of course he did. He’d been sleeping more often since he’d met Gwyn than ever before in his life. Once he was asleep, Azriel was asleep—totally dead to the world in a way he’d never experienced, which caused him to wake a little after dawn with a sharp inhale of air.

Gwyn wasn’t there, as she so often wasn’t. Azriel hated the panic that rumbled through him, even as he heard her laughter floating through the air, sure as any of his shadows. They swarmed, save the one that trailed after her everywhere, murmuring that she was having breakfast with Nesta while Cassian went to retrieve Emerie 

She hadn’t left him. Azriel took another breath, trying to settle his stammering heart as he dressed casually, padding into the dining room where Gwyn and Nesta were gleefully heaping spoonfuls of sugar into oatmeal already laden with fruit. When she saw him leaning in the doorframe, she grinned up at him.

“Hungry?” she asked. A bolt of lust swam through him, causing Nesta to wrinkle her nose in disgust. 

Azriel ducked his head, embarrassed and pleased all at the same time. He knew they needed to figure out what to do with Koschei, with Eris, with the world itself. But right then as Azriel sat down at the table, he felt content.

Optimistically happy.

He didn’t think it would last.

[yvaineseleneposts]

Love me like a friend

Requested: no

Pairing: Nico Hischier x reader

Words: 604

Warning(s): none

The snow fell softly over Newark, blanketing the city in a quiet hush. (y/n) pulled her coat tighter around herself as she walked toward the arena, her heart pounding against her ribs. She shouldn’t be here, but she couldn’t stay away—not from him.

Nico Hischier stood near the players' entrance, hands buried deep in the pockets of his jacket. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes softened the moment they landed on her.

"(y/n)," he said, his voice carrying that familiar warmth that always made her weak.

"Hey," she whispered, unsure of what to say, unsure of why she had come.

They had been everything but what she truly wanted. Late-night talks, easy laughter, lingering glances—he was her constant, her closest friend. But that’s all they had ever been. Friends.

Except it had never been enough.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his breath visible in the cold air.

(y/n) hesitated, biting her lip. "I don’t know. I just... I needed to see you."

A long silence stretched between them, the kind that carried unspoken words and unanswered questions.

Nico sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "(y/n), you know how much you mean to me. But—"

"But not like that," she finished for him, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

He didn’t answer, and maybe he didn’t need to. The truth was already there, hanging between them like the snowflakes that refused to settle.

(y/n) took a step back, exhaling shakily. "I should go."

Nico reached for her hand, just for a second, as if he wasn’t ready to let go. But then he did.

She turned and walked away, knowing that loving him like a friend was the only way she could keep him. Even if it broke her heart.

(y/n) walked through the snowy streets, her breath coming in short puffs. She wanted to believe that leaving was the right choice, but her heart ached in a way she hadn’t anticipated. She pulled out her phone, staring at their old messages, the ones filled with inside jokes and late-night confessions. The warmth of their friendship had been everything, yet it felt hollow now.

She had almost reached the subway when she heard hurried footsteps behind her. Turning, she found Nico, slightly out of breath, his cheeks pink from the cold.

"(y/n), wait."

She froze, her pulse racing. "Nico, you don’t have to—"

"I do," he interrupted, stepping closer. "I don’t want to lose you."

She shook her head, sadness pooling in her eyes. "You’re not losing me, Nico. You never have. But I can’t keep pretending this doesn’t hurt. I can’t keep being just your friend when my heart wants more."

His jaw tightened, the weight of her words settling over him. "I never wanted to hurt you. I just... I never knew how to be without you."

(y/n) let out a small laugh, one tinged with exhaustion. "Then maybe it’s time you figure that out."

Silence stretched between them again, but this time, it wasn’t filled with unsaid things—it was filled with realization. They had been dancing around their feelings for so long that neither of them knew how to step away without falling apart.

Finally, Nico reached out, brushing his fingers against her cheek. "(y/n), if I asked you to stay, would you?"

She swallowed hard, her heart warring with her mind. "Only if you mean it."

He searched her face for a long moment before nodding. "I do."

And maybe, just maybe, this time, they wouldn’t let fear get in the way of what was meant to be.

[nownahc]

i absolutely love the prompt idea! i might not make it easy on you~ prompts 1, 3, and 83 with hyunjin sound like they could be interesting <3

just once | hwang hyujin

hyunjin x reader

main masterlist

prompts list send in an ask to request

▶• ılıılıılılıılıılı.

notes. been in my feels lately so this might be a reflection of what's going on in my mind

warnings. angst, talk of serious emotionnal stuff

prompts. “Do you want me to leave?”/“I’m not jealous.”/“Just once.”

Never in his life, Hyunjin would have thought he’d witness such despair in someone. Let alone, when that person happens to be you. He can’t seem to find the words, nor the strength to move as he sits in front of you, watching helplessly as you sob in the sleeves of your sweater. Your bedroom, so familiar, yet foreign now that your laughter doesn’t echo between the walls, feels cold, devoided of any of the warmth he’s accustomed to. “I just… I don’t get it, everyone around me seems so in tune with everything, with their life, their family, their friends, their… love life, while I’m stuck here, watching me, as if I’m outside of my body, like a spectator of my own life, I…” It’s the first words you uttered since he arrived here. All you’ve been doing is sob and cry silently in the fabric of your sweater. When you called, he had no idea what caused you to feel this down, was it someone, or something, he had no clue. All he knew, is that he had to sprint to you, the sole idea of leaving you alone in such a vulnerable state eating at his consciousness.

“I’m not jealous, it’s envy more than anything, admiration even and,” she can’t help but hiccup letting her words hang in the air, until she can speak her mind again, “I want to be like them, to know what I’m doing, to be happy, truly happy, to love and be loved.”

He wants to scream at her that no one has anything figured out, that everyone is pretending, and everyone has probably cried and begged like she’s doing right now. He wants to scream that, he can give her at least one of those things she’s asking for. Love. He can love her, and let her love him. That’s all he ever wanted, all he ever wished for.

“Do you want me to leave, or do you want comfort?”, his voice is soft, barely above a whisper, as if he was scared of his own words.

Finally, her gaze flickers to him, a small sad smile tugging at her lips. “Stay…”, she wants to add that there’s no need for comfort, for his sole presence already means a lot to her. The fact that he's there, watching her drown in her own sorrow is a sign that someone cares, someone sees the ugliness of her thoughts yet, he’s still willing to stay.

Hyunjin shifts on the floor, trying to conjure the perfect words for her, the perfect words that would make her magically see all the goodness this world has to offer, that at some point, she’ll realize that happiness is different from all people, that maybe she simply hasn’t found hers.

“Y/n, I can’t miraculously make you happy, or make you see that people care and love you, but I can help. I can stay with you and guide you through it, so please, give me this chance. Just once, let me help you find yourself.”

The words hang in the air, both Hyunjin and you processing the weight of them. Hyunjin wants to say more, he wants to say that he’d repeat the process of healing with her a million times if needed, in every universe, in every life time if needed.

“Help me Hyunjin…” Her answer surprised him, for a second he thinks he imagined it for how vulnerable and quiet it sounded. Still, she said it, she allowed him to guide her, to show her, to help her through this, and he’s more than happy to help the one person he doesn’t want to see this desperate ever again.

[bubblebear4life]

A/N: A little fanfic for @the-spam-specialist The Ringmaster's Written Reminders ^^

I was going to write some angst, but I figured you'd have that covered in your later stories. Caine and Pomni fluff it is then ^^

~~~

What A Silly Thing

Caine is in desperate need of some snuggles, but Pomni is currently on an adventure. Surely it wouldn't hurt to summon her this one time... Right?

It was a quiet morning in the tent today. The artificial light from the digital sun streamed through Caine's office window, casting a warm golden glow throughout the room.

The little energetic Ringmaster slowly spun in his office chair while excitedly planning tomorrow's glorious new adventure. Reviewing his trusted list of each circus member, Caine considered everything he needed to include to address the humans' needs.

Let's see: he'll add a friendly butterfly NPC guide for Ragatha and Kinger, a relaxing atmosphere for Pomni, a dancing puzzle for Gangle, and maybe even a tavern for Jax and Zooble. He isn't going to allow them to purchase any alcohol, though. That would be against the rules! Haha!

After a few minutes of checking his list Caine hummed, thoughtfully tapping the end of his pen against his jaw. He had already sent his scrumdiddlyumptious-lemon-flavored-cucumbers on today's adventure only an hour ago, and he was already starting to feel a little... lonely.

He absolutely loved planning his adventures- don’t get him wrong! They were his passion! However, he had grown so accustomed to planning them while the others were around. The sound of their usual shenanigans had become a comforting background noise against the constant hum of the tent.

After Caine started to befriend the humans and join them on their adventures, the circus tent felt different when he was alone. It felt... eerie. Hauntingly large, even. Like the whole tent could swallow him up at any moment.

The thought sent a shive through his code.

Caine's large, cartoonish eyes nervously flickered around the room. When did his breathing become so heavy? Why was he shaking? Were the walls always this close to him?

What was the bad taste in his mouth?

Caine looked down and realized he had accidentally bitten off the end of his pen. Now, he had ink all over his hand and in his mouth. He gagged, the bitter taste of ink worsening his current predicament.

The usually composed ringmaster shot up out of his chair, sending it crashing back against the wall. He had to get out of here. It was too much. Everything was too much. He threw the pen down, not caring about the mess he made, and zips out of his office and into the safety of Kinger's pillow fort.

Caine whimpers softly as he curls up against the many pillows and blankets littering the floor of the fort. Logically, he knew he was being silly. There was nothing here to fear! The Amazing Digital Circus is a perfectly safe place for all ages! Still, he couldn't shake off the panic that had settled in his digital heart.

Being in the pillow fort did little to ease Caine's nevers. He needed someone else to be here with him. He couldn't summon his buttery-toaster-strudels at this time! They were busy on an adventure! Caine sniffles, feeling something wet fall against his gloved hand.

He is crying.

Caine gasps, trying to wipe the tears from his eyes. This was silly! It was all so silly! He tried to reason with himself.

If it was silly, then why couldn't he just stop!?

Suddenly, a little reminder popped up into his head. With his vision blurred with tears, he quickly pulled out his list, the long parchment crinkling as he scanned for what he was looking for.

Ah-ha!

Do not summon people unless it was an emergency.

This- was an emergency, right? Caine hiccups as another sob shook his body.

This was definitely an emergency.

With shaking hands, Caine snaps, summoning the first person that came to his mind.

That person happened to be the anxious jester herself, Pomni.

Pomni, completely taken aback, paused to observe her surroundings before her gaze settled on the very being that had summoned her.

It didn't take long for her to reach his side. She held her hands out toward him, stopping just short of making contact, uncertain of what he needed in that moment. "Caine!? Wh-what's wrong?!" she asked, trying to keep herself from panicking as well.

"I- I don't know!" Caine wailed back, immediately flinging himself at Pomni and clinging to her. "Make it stop!"

"Oof-" Pomni flinched when Caine clung to her, but she forced herself to relax and immediately wrapped her arms around the little AI. He needed her to be strong right now. She rubbed his back, hoping it would help soothe him. "Can you tell me how this started?"

Caine blinked, running through his memory files to try and figure out this mess.

It seems his memory already wiped away the incident.

Not being able to remember only stressed himself out more.

"I c-can't remember! I can't remember anything, p-pomni!" The AI clung on tighter to the girl. "Wh-why is this happening!?" Caine's voice glitched with his sobs.

Pomni had to think fast. What helps her calm down from panic attacks? "Um... Hey, can you try taking some deep breaths with me?" Asked the jester, taking Caine's hand in hers. She took a deep breath, waiting for Caine to follow.

Caine took a breath only to immediately choke on a sob. "I-I c-can't!"

"That's ok, you're doing good, Caine. Let's try again." Pomni took another deep breath, squeezing Caine's hand encouragingly.

The Ringmaster managed to take a small breath, and after a few more attempts, his breathing began to even out. Pomni continued to rub his back and give his encouragement the entire time.

About half an hour later, Caine was feeling a little better. "Thank you, Pomni. I'm- sorry I took you away from the adventure for something so... Silly." He whispered, looking away with large guilty eyes.

Pomni stroked his head, the bells from his tophat ringing softly. She gave his a stern, yet concerned look. "It's not silly, Caine. You can call me whenever you need help." She lifted his lower jaw to look him in his sad puppy dog eyes. "I promise you aren't bothering me, or anyone else. Your feelings matter just as much as ours. Do you understand." It was more of a statement than a question.

Caine sniffles again, slowly nodding his head. "Thank you again, Pomni."

"Anytime, Caine." Without thinking, the jester placed a small kiss to his top jaw

Caine froze. The feeling was foreign, but had a nice feeling to it.

"Caine? Are you alright?" Pomni was afraid she broke him.

Caine merely hummed sleepily, tucking his denture head under her chin. "Shut down now...gnight." His words were slurred from the sudden exhaustion that hit.

Pomni quietly chuckles, not wanting to disturb him while he shuts down. She wouldn't say it out loud, but Caine can be pretty cute sometimes. She doesn't blame him for being tired. She remembers being exhausted after panic attacks, too.

"Goodnight, Caine." She whispers for only the darkness of the pillow fort to hear.

Her response was an AI equivalent to a snore.

~~~

A/N: Oopies doodles. Guess we got some angst after all~

Caine is still covered in ink, it's just too dark in the fort to see it. Pomni helps him clean up once she notices it

[slaymitchabernathy]

Passing By

| in honor of tom turning 30, here’s coryo turning 30 :)) |

“Do you like it? Is it good?”

Coriolanus continues chewing the cake in his mouth, letting the flavors melt all over his tongue. It’s vanilla, a simple flavor but he’s a simple man.

Besides, he loves vanilla because she smells like vanilla.

He looks up from his plate and finds his girlfriend staring at him with such an intensity in her eyes. She wants this to be perfect for him, from the cake to the entire day even though it’s almost over.

Coriolanus has two hours left to enjoy his birthday.

It’s not really that special to him, never has been, never will be. Thirty is a basic number, it just means that he’s on track, nothing to celebrate. Forty is when he’ll start taking things more seriously.

But Soarynn cares. She cares about everything including his birthday. It’s a shame he had to work today. The office has been making him work longer hours and with rent going up, it’s not like he has a choice.

The bitter part of him mind wishes he were younger only so he could have more time to make a better life for himself, for her.

They should be living on the Corso, not in this tiny, cramped one bedroom apartment. The heat doesn’t always work, the water is always frigid and sometimes rats chew through the walls.

She still bought him cake though.

Only once slice since that’s all the bakery had left when she got off her own shift at work. Soarynn works as a seamstress, it’s hard on her hands but it brings home some money so she stays there and works hard.

He wishes she didn’t have to work at all.

“It’s very good,” he tells her, still chewing but Coriolanus knows the longer he takes the answer, the more anxious she’ll get. Soarynn sighs, sitting on her knees, “Good, I couldn’t find any candles, sorry.”

Coriolanus shakes his head, placing a hand on her knee, “No need to be sorry darling, the cake is more than enough.”

Soarynn gives him a soft but tired smile. He knows she’s as exhausted as he is when it comes to living this life.

He came home exhausted, ready to go straight to bed when he found Soarynn in their small bedroom, with the slice of cake and a card. He already read the card, it’s sweet, she’s so sweet to him.

“Still,” she mumbles, brushing her hair behind her ears, “wish I could’ve gotten you something else. Some new shoes maybe.”

His shoes started getting holes in them about a month ago. Coriolanus didn’t mention it to Soarynn, didn’t want to worry her. Looks like she still noticed.

“For your birthday we’ll go out for dinner,” he tells her, setting the plate down. Soarynn’s lips twitch into a frown, “No we won’t.”

Now they’re both frowning.

Coriolanus wishes more than anything that they could afford the smallest of luxuries. New shoes, a night out on the town, new clothes for Soarynn, fresh groceries.

He always liked to think that Snow landed on top but he seems to be stuck at the very bottom.

At least he has Soarynn. With her, he feels like he’s on top of the world.

“Yes we will,” he says gently, giving her knee a squeeze, “I know I’ve been working longer hours but that means a little extra spending money. Might even be able to get you some new dresses hmm?”

Soarynn shakes her head, “Coryo we won’t celebrate my birthday.”

“Yes we will darling, twenty-nine is a big thing to celebrate.”

“Coryo, I never got to turn twenty-eight.”

Coriolanus closes his eyes but it doesn’t help. Doesn’t help him forget that she’s not even here right now. That Soarynn died almost a year ago in a car accident when she was crossing the street to get to work one morning.

He didn’t even find out until he got off of work and realized that she never made it home.

And he never got to say goodbye.

When he opens his eyes, he’s alone in his room, in his tiny, crappy apartment with no Soarynn. No warmth. No laughter. No kisses.

Just him and the slice of cake he bought himself on the way home from work because he knew she’d want him to celebrate.

Even though he doesn’t want to.

There is nothing to celebrate now that she’s gone.

“We’ll still celebrate,” he decides, ignoring her.

He doesn’t talk to Soarynn often, it’s too painful. And she only comes to visit him every so often, like on days like this.

Just like time, she’s only passing by.

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

| taglist: @strawberriicakes @kickmybark @wonderlandbound111 @melodyoflovee @evilmenarehot @erensrealgf @thevoicesinmyprettylittlehead |

[s4svnn]

Out of bounds . JJK

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; his love subjected you to the true extent of deception, a merciless lie wrapped in the illusion of paradise, until the truth tore it apart - he was always out of bounds.

↳ Jungkook x reader

↳ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: ongoing

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Chapter Thirty One

Jungkook leaned back in his leather chair, one hand gripping the phone to his ear while the other drummed impatiently against the dark mahogany desk. His office was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him, where the city stretched out in endless golden streaks against the night.

His jaw was tight, his voice low and steady. “I need you to do a job for me.”

A pause.

The voice on the other end was smooth but skeptical. “Didn’t think you’d be calling me of all people. You sure about this?”

Jungkook’s grip on the phone tightened. “Find out whatever you can about Aylah Jace Banks.”

There was a brief silence. Then, a low chuckle. “A name. That’s all you’re giving me?”

Jungkook exhaled sharply, his patience thinning. “I don’t have much else. But you’re good at what you do, aren’t you?”

A rustling noise came through the line, followed by the faint sound of keys clacking against a keyboard. “Alright, alright. I’ll bite. You want a standard background check or… something deeper?”

Jungkook hesitated for half a second. Then— “Everything. Where she is, who she’s with, what she’s doing. I don’t care how long it takes, just get me answers.”

A low whistle. “Must be one hell of a girl.”

Jungkook’s jaw flexed. He didn’t answer.

The man on the phone didn’t push. “Alright, I’ll see what I can dig up. Might take a few days, might take longer. Depends on how easy she is to track.”

Jungkook’s fingers tapped against the desk, his mind already racing through the possibilities. “Just let me know the second you find something.”

“Fine, fine. But let me ask you something first.”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. “What?”

A pause. Then, the man’s voice dropped into something almost amused. “What exactly are you hoping to find?”

Jungkook clenched his teeth, the answer sitting heavy in his chest.

That she’s okay.That she doesn’t hate me.That she’s still mine, even if she never was to begin with.

Instead, he simply said, “Just do the job.”

The man chuckled again. “Whatever you say, champ.”

Aylah’s POV:

I swirled my straw absently in my caramel frappuccino, watching the golden-brown liquid mix with the melted ice as my mind drifted back to yesterday.

The way Adam had reacted. The way he had towered over me in the storage room, his arms caging me in, his voice laced with barely contained irritation. His eyes—dark, unreadable, but holding something underneath. Something I couldn’t quite place.

I sighed, taking another slow sip of my drink. What the hell is his problem? One minute, he was acting like I didn’t exist, and the next, he was catching falling boxes and getting all up in my space like—

“BOO!”

“OH MY GOD!” My entire body jolted as I nearly spilled my drink, clutching my chest as my heart tried to recover from the near heart attack.

Cyrus burst into laughter, doubling over at my reaction. “Damn, AJ, I didn’t think you’d jump that hard. Didn’t realize you were so deep in thought.”

I exhaled sharply, placing my cup down before I actually dropped it. “Jesus, Cyrus! I swear, one of these days, you’re gonna be the reason I go into cardiac arrest.”

He smirked, plopping into the seat across from me. “Sorry, girl, but you were looking way too serious. What’s got you all spaced out?”

“Nothing,” I muttered quickly, shaking my head. “I’m fine.”

Cyrus gave me a look like he knew I was lying, but to my relief, he didn’t push it. Instead, his lips curled into a grin, his entire demeanor shifting as he clapped his hands together excitedly.

“Anyway, forget all that! It’s Bank Holiday, which means—” He stretched out the words dramatically. “—we can close up early.”

My head snapped up so fast I probably gave myself whiplash. “Wait, really?” It was like life suddenly flooded back into my body.

“Yep,” he confirmed, looking way too smug at my enthusiasm. “So, how ‘bout me, you, Serena, and Leah hit up that pizza place in Central? You know the one.”

I let out a groan, pressing my hands together in mock prayer. “Oh my God, yes. I’d kill for pizza right now.”

Just as I was about to start fantasizing about all the cheese and carbs I was about to inhale, the café door swung open, and Leah and Serena strolled in, looking suspiciously guilty.

“Guys,” Leah started, her tone careful. “We… may have a slight change of plans.”

Cyrus narrowed his eyes. “What? Why?”

Leah winced, rubbing the back of her neck. “Soooo… I may have mentioned to Adam what our plans were.”

My stomach immediately twisted.

Cyrus blinked. “Okay… and?”

Leah let out a slow breath. “Aaaand… he’s kinda coming with us.”

The entire café went silent. Even the coffee machine seemed to stop making noise.

Cyrus leaned forward. “Wait. He agreed?”

Serena nodded, eyes still wide like she couldn’t believe it herself. “Yeah, I was literally listening to their conversation, and I was shocked when he said yes. He always turns us down when we ask him to hang out.”

Leah groaned. “That’s why I asked! I didn’t want to be rude and not invite him, but I wasn’t expecting him to actually say yes.”

Serena suddenly grinned, nudging my shoulder. “Maybe it had something to do with little miss over here.”

My mouth fell open. “Excuse me?”

Cyrus wiggled his eyebrows. “I mean, think about it. He’s never hung out with us outside of work before, and now—suddenly, after your little run-in with him today—he magically decides to come?”

I crossed my arms, scowling. “That’s ridiculous.”

Serena smirked. “Is it?”

“Yes!” I said firmly. “Adam doesn’t even like me.”

Leah hummed, tapping her chin. “Mmm… Are we sure about that?”

I groaned, rubbing my temples. “Guys, seriously. He’s coming because he wants pizza, not because of me.”

Cyrus grinned. “Suuure, AJ. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

I grabbed my frappuccino and took a very aggressive sip. “I hate you all.”

They burst into laughter.

Before I could argue any further, the door chimed again. We all turned at the same time—

And there he was.

Adam was dressed in a black hoodie and dark jeans, his usual cap pulled low over his eyes, his sharp jawline illuminated by the café lights. He stepped inside quietly, his gaze sweeping over the four of us before locking onto me.

My breath hitched.

His stare was unreadable. Not necessarily hostile, but… intense. As if he was trying to figure me out, trying to understand something about me that even I didn’t know.

I swallowed. What is with this guy?

Leah cleared her throat, breaking the awkward silence. “Uh, hey, Adam. Ready to go?”

Adam tore his gaze away from me, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Yeah.”

Cyrus leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Girl, I felt that in my coochie, and I ain’t even got one.”

I shot him a glare. “Shut up.”

He smirked but didn’t push it further.

Leah clapped her hands together. “Alright then, let’s go get some damn pizza.”

The cool evening air wrapped around us as we stepped out of the café, the sky painted in deep shades of purple and navy as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. The streets were still buzzing with life—cars honking, groups of friends laughing as they passed by, and the scent of street food wafting from nearby vendors.

Cyrus jingled his car keys in his hand as he led the way, grinning like he was up to something. Leah walked beside him, scrolling through her phone, while Serena and I trailed just behind them. Adam, as usual, was silent, walking slightly apart from the group with his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie.

I tried not to think about the fact that he was right next to me. Tried being the keyword.

“So, what car are we taking?” I asked, mostly to fill the silence.

“Mine,” Cyrus answered over his shoulder. “Biggest one out of all of us.”

Leah smirked. “And you just love driving us around, don’t you?”

Cyrus scoffed. “Please. You peasants should be grateful you get to experience my excellent driving skills for free.”

Serena snorted. “Oh yeah? Tell that to the parking ticket you got last week.”

“That was a setup,” he argued. “The parking sign was misleading, and I refuse to take responsibility.”

Leah shook her head, laughing. But then, her eyes flicked to Cyrus, and her expression shifted slightly—mischief flashing behind her gaze.

Cyrus slowed his pace, letting the distance between us and them grow just enough before he leaned toward Leah and whispered, “I’ve got a plan.”

Leah arched a brow. “Oh? Do tell.”

A devilish grin spread across Cyrus’s face. “So, you know how I have two boxes of weights on my back seat? The ones I use to work out at home?”

Leah nodded slowly, catching on. “Yeah…?”

“Well, I conveniently forgot to take them out, and there’s no space in the boot.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Which means our dear AJ is gonna have to sit on Adam’s lap.”

Leah gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. “Cyrus. I love the way you think, my friend.”

They shared a sneaky high-five behind us, completely unnoticed by Serena, Adam, and me.

As we continued walking toward the car, completely oblivious to the scheme unfolding behind us, I let out a content sigh, stretching my arms. “Man, I can already taste that pizza.”

“Right?” Serena chimed in. “I’m getting extra cheese on mine.”

Adam, as expected, didn’t say anything. But I could feel his presence beside me, a silent but undeniable weight in the atmosphere.

Leah and Cyrus, on the other hand, were grinning like two kids who just got away with something very bad.

As we finally reached Cyrus’ car, he suddenly gasped dramatically, throwing a hand to his forehead like he had just remembered something crucial. “Oh no,” he said, voice laced with faux distress.

I blinked at him, confused. “What? Oh no what?”

“My weights!” He motioned toward the car like it was some tragic scene. “I completely forgot I had them in the back seat.”

I frowned. “Weights? What weights?”

Cyrus sighed heavily, shaking his head. “I work out at home, obviously,” he said, flexing his arms for emphasis. “And I bought some new ones yesterday, but I completely forgot to take them out.”

Adam, who had been mostly quiet the entire time, finally spoke. His deep, calm voice cut through Cyrus’ theatrics. “Why don’t you just move them to the boot?”

Leah perked up immediately, jumping in right on cue. “Ohhh, yeah, about that…” She winced, rubbing the back of her neck. “I may have borrowed Cyrus’ car a few days ago and may have forgotten to take out my shopping bags. Sooo… the boot is kind of full.”

I glanced between them, something about this situation feeling oddly off, but I wasn’t sure what exactly. “So… what are we gonna do? There are five of us and only four available seats.”

Leah smirked, and I swore I saw something mischievous flash in her eyes before she spoke. “Well, Cyrus is driving, obviously. And I’m a passenger princess so that seat is mine.”

I turned to Serena, already knowing what she was going to say before she even opened her mouth.

“Yeah, no way am I squeezing in the back with someone,” she said, shaking her head. “I get motion sickness way too easily so I need my own seat.”

Which left—

My stomach dropped.

Leah’s smirk grew wider. “Sooo that leaves you and Adam.”

Before I could even begin to protest, Cyrus clapped his hands together like it was the most obvious solution in the world. “AJ, you can just sit on Adam’s lap.”

I swear my entire body combusted on the spot.

“What— no, absolutely not—”

Before I could finish, a low, impatient voice cut me off.

“Fine. Get in the car.”

I turned to Adam so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash. He was standing there, looking completely unfazed, scrolling through his phone like he hadn’t just agreed to this situation with zero hesitation.

Behind me, Leah, Cyrus, and Serena squealed excitedly, but the moment I turned my head, they immediately coughed and looked away, trying (and failing) to contain their delight.

I was so going to kill them for this.

But, at this point, what choice did I have? Everyone was already climbing into the car, and I’d look even weirder if I kept standing there, refusing to move.

Taking a deep breath, I reluctantly opened the back door. Adam was already seated, legs spread slightly as he leaned back, one arm draped over the headrest as he scrolled through his phone. He didn’t even look at me.

I hesitated, shifting my weight between my feet as I stared at him from outside the car.

That’s when Adam finally glanced up, his dark eyes locking onto mine.

“You getting in or what?” His tone was even, unreadable.

“O-oh, yeah, yeah, I am,” I stammered, feeling beyond awkward.

Gripping Leah’s seat for support, I carefully climbed into the car, lowering myself onto Adam’s lap with extreme caution. I tried to leave as much space as humanly possible between my back and his chest, my entire body rigid with tension.

Well, that was until Adam suddenly grabbed me by the waist and pulled me back flush against him.

My breath hitched.

“Sit properly,” he murmured against my ear, his voice low and firm. “Or you’re going flying forward when he brakes.”

I swallowed hard, nodding quickly. “O-okay.”

I tried to ignore the warmth of his tattooed hand resting around my waist, the heat of his body pressed against mine, the way his scent—something dark and woody—wrapped around me like an embrace.

In front of me, Leah and Cyrus exchanged triumphant smirks.

I had just fallen perfectly into their trap.

Jungkook’s POV:

Jungkook sat in his office, the dim glow from his desk lamp casting shadows across his features. He exhaled slowly, fingers tapping against the cool surface of his desk as his phone buzzed beneath his palm. His patience was wearing thin.

He had given it two hours. That was already more waiting than he was used to.

Without hesitation, he picked up his phone and dialed the number, pressing it to his ear. The call barely rang twice before a familiar voice answered.

“Yo.”

Jungkook didn’t bother with greetings. “Did you find anything?”

A dry chuckle came through the line. “Bro, you called me two hours ago. I told you it would take a few days to get all the information you wanted.”

Jungkook clenched his jaw. Days? He didn’t have days.

“I’ll pay you triple,” he said flatly, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. “Make it quick.”

Silence.

Then, the unmistakable sound of the guy sucking his teeth, clearly irritated. But Jungkook knew money talked, and sure enough—

“Well,” the guy sighed, his tone shifting. “She’s in South London. Works at some café.” There was a brief pause before he added, almost amused, “So far, that’s all I’ve got.”

Jungkook sat up straighter, his grip tightening around his phone. His brain latched onto two word.

South London.

His pulse quickened as he processed the information, but he kept his voice calm, steady. “Send me her address.”

The guy let out a low chuckle. “Damn. Not even a ‘thank you’? Thought you’d want more details. Like, I don’t know, what she’s been up to, who she’s hanging around, maybe even why she left—”

“You can find all that out and tell me later,” Jungkook interrupted, his patience wearing thinner by the second. “Just send me her address. Now.”

The line was quiet for a moment before the guy finally sighed. “Whatever you say, man. Sending it through right now.”

Jungkook’s phone buzzed almost instantly. He pulled it away from his ear just in time to see a notification pop up on his screen—an address in London.

His lips curled slightly.

Found you.

Before he could hang up, a thought gnawed at him. He brought the phone back to his ear.

“How’d you even find her?”

The guy snorted. “Man, it was easy. To be honest, you could’ve found her yourself.”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

The guy let out an exasperated chuckle. “That iPad you gave her? It’s still logged into your Apple ID. You could’ve tracked her using the Find My app.”

Jungkook froze.

Then, realization slammed into him like a punch to the gut.

Fuck.

How had he forgotten about that? The iPad—he had given it to her back when—

His jaw tightened. He shoved the memory away before it could drag him under.

Doesn’t matter. He knew where she was now. That was all that mattered.

“Right. Got it,” he muttered.

“Yeah, yeah,” the guy drawled lazily. “Anything else?”

Jungkook inhaled deeply, running a hand through his curls. “No. That’s all.”

“Alright, man. I’ll keep digging. You’ll hear from me soon.”

Jungkook ended the call without another word and tossed his phone onto the desk, staring at the address glowing on the screen.

He leaned back in his chair, letting the information settle. The city that had swallowed her up, kept her hidden from him all this time—he was finally about to break through.His fingers tightened around his car keys, the cool metal pressing against his palm.

He didn’t know why he felt this rush of adrenaline. He didn’t know what he was expecting to find when he saw her again. All he knew was that he had to see her again.

A smirk ghosted across his lips as he pushed himself up from his chair.

"London, here I come."

Aylah’s POV:

The heat in the car was stifling, the kind that pressed down on your chest and made every breath feel a little too shallow. It was more than just the summer warmth, though; it was the overwhelming sensation of being so close to Adam. His hand was still on my waist, a firm, constant presence that sent a strange fluttering sensation spiraling in my stomach. What was worse, though, was the way he casually moved his fingers in small, slow circles, as if it was no big deal. It made everything feel a little too intimate, a little too personal, especially considering the tension between us.

At first, I tried to ignore it, focusing on the blaring horns and the constant stop-and-go of the traffic around us. But with each passing second, I felt his touch more acutely, the warmth of his palm pressing into the soft skin of my midriff. The fabric of my crop top offered no barrier between us, leaving my body fully aware of his presence.

His touch was making my heart race, my thoughts scatter. I was trying to make sense of it all, trying to figure out why he was acting this way. He didn’t like me; of that, I was sure. But then why was he here? And why did he feel the need to touch me, to keep his hand where no one else’s hand should be?

Just stop thinking about it, I mentally told myself, but the words did nothing to quiet the chaos in my mind. The car seemed to grow smaller, the air thicker. I shifted uncomfortably, trying to focus on anything but him—anything but the way his hand felt on my body.

But then, as if the universe decided to add another layer to my already overwhelming thoughts, the car jerked forward. Cyrus had swerved suddenly, his eyes wide as he tried to avoid a drunk man who had somehow found it necessary to start twerking in the middle of the road. It was an absurd sight, one that should’ve made me laugh or at least acknowledge the ridiculousness of it, but I couldn’t. My attention was still on Adam.

“Get out of the way, you nitty!” Cyrus yelled, leaning out the window to shout at the man who seemed completely oblivious to the chaos he was causing.

Leah’s laughter echoed through the car, a sound of pure amusement at the ridiculousness of the situation. But I couldn’t join her in her laughter. I couldn’t even appreciate how comical the moment was because everything around me seemed distant. Adam’s hand. His touch. His proximity.

My head snapped back to reality as Adam spoke, his voice laced with mild concern. “You’re going to hit your head on the headrest if you don’t move.”

I blinked, confused for a second, before I realized that the car had stopped moving, and I had been inches away from slamming my face into Leah’s headrest. Without thinking, I tilted my head downward, my cheek now resting against Adam’s shoulder.

There was no escaping it now. His scent, the warmth of his body, the proximity—it was all too much, too close. I could feel his breath against my skin, and it made the air between us feel thick. It was uncomfortable, yes, but also strangely intimate, as if the whole world had narrowed down to this moment, to the feeling of his body against mine.

I barely had time to process the discomfort before I felt his hand move again. This time, it wasn’t on my waist, but on my upper thigh. His fingers stretched across my skin, draped lazily but firmly there, resting in a way that made me acutely aware of every muscle in my body. The contact, the subtle pressure, the warmth of his touch—it was impossible to ignore. My body tensed instinctively, and my heart skipped a beat.

I couldn’t keep my focus. Every breath felt too short, too shallow. Every shift of the car made his hand feel more invasive, more overwhelming. He wasn’t even paying attention, scrolling through his phone with the kind of casual indifference that made it feel like this was normal.

Desperate for a distraction, I turned my head to glance at Serena. She was slumped in her seat, her head tilted back in a deep, seemingly effortless sleep. It almost made me angry. How could she be so relaxed while I was practically suffocating in this charged silence?

Motion sickness, my ass, I thought bitterly.

I shifted my gaze back to Adam’s phone. I needed to focus on something else, anything but the way his hand felt on me. That’s when I saw it—sketches. Detailed, beautiful sketches of the café. The lines were sharp, the shading precise, and the designs looked almost like something out of a high-end architectural magazine. I was mesmerized by the intricate detail, by the way each curve seemed to flow effortlessly into the next.

“Wow,” I muttered, unable to hide my awe. “These are amazing.”

Adam didn’t look at me. He didn’t seem to notice my growing fascination, his attention still fixed on the screen of his phone. But then his voice cut through my thoughts, teasing but with an edge to it.

“Didn’t know you were nosey.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the humor in his voice or because I was trying to ignore the fact that my pulse was racing, but I let out a breathless chuckle. “Hard to miss when your phone is practically right in my face.”

He smirked, his lips curling into that trademark expression of his. I felt it—a slight brush against my cheek, a fleeting contact that only made everything worse. My stomach fluttered again.

“Fair point,” he replied, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest.

I wasn’t ready to stop there. Not with these incredible designs in front of me. My curiosity was overpowering. I had to know more.

“So, whose sketches are these?” I asked, leaning in a little closer.

“They’re mine,” Adam said without hesitation, his voice sounding almost bored, as if it was no big deal.

I couldn’t stop myself from blinking in surprise. “Wait, these are yours?” I repeated, my voice a little too high-pitched. “You designed the café?”

He shifted in his seat, his hand adjusting on my thigh as he did so. The sudden pressure made me gasp, but I quickly tried to regain control of myself. “Yeah,” he said casually, almost as if it were nothing special. “Interior design was my thing. It’s what I studied.”

My mind was racing. “No way,” I whispered, still processing what he was saying. “I studied design too. But in car design.”

Adam’s eyes met mine then, and for a brief, fleeting moment, there was something in his gaze—something soft and sincere. It was gone as quickly as it came, but for a second, it felt like we were connected in a way I couldn’t explain.

“It’s a rewarding degree,” he said after a beat, his voice quieter now. “Hard, but rewarding.”

I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of the moment sink in. “Yeah, you’re right,” I murmured softly.

But as I looked at him, at the way his hand still rested so comfortably on my thigh, the question that lingered in my mind was no longer about design. It was about us—about what the hell was happening between us, and why it felt like everything was shifting so quickly, too quickly for me to keep up.

For once, I didn’t have an answer.

Sure, let’s extend and enhance this scene:

We pulled up in front of the famous pizza place, its familiar neon lights blinking in the early evening dusk. The whole group, myself included, had been craving this pizza all day—the kind of pizza with the crisp crust, gooey cheese, and just the right amount of toppings that made it the local legend. But as we approached the door, Cyrus came to an abrupt stop, his face turning from eager anticipation to utter disbelief.

“No fucking way,” he muttered under his breath, his hand falling away from the door handle as he stared at the sign on the window. I leaned in to get a better look, and my stomach dropped when I saw the bold letters.

Closed for Bank Holiday.

I groaned, staring at the sign in shock. The pizza, the one thing that had been keeping me going today, was now off the table. Serena, who had been half asleep in the backseat, suddenly jerked awake, her face contorting in disbelief.

“It’s closed?!” she said, her eyes wide, as if hoping that maybe the sign was some kind of cruel joke. “No fucking way!”

Leah, standing at the front, looked equally shocked. “What the hell? These guys are never closed on a Bank Holiday! What gives?” She knocked on the door as if trying to will it open.

We all stood there, staring at the closed doors like they held all the answers to life’s problems. The weight of disappointment settled in my stomach, making it feel even emptier than before.

“So what now?” I asked, glancing around at the group. Nobody seemed to have an answer.

Cyrus sighed, looking up at the sky like he was trying to draw some cosmic inspiration. “I vote we go back to the café. We can cry while eating dessert,” he said dramatically, throwing his hands in the air.

Leah perked up, nodding enthusiastically. “I second that. There’s nothing better than drowning in your tears while eating cookies and cream ice cream.” She glanced at me, giving me a playful grin.

I let out a little laugh at that, trying to shake off the frustration. As much as I hated to admit it, there was something comforting about the idea of heading back to the café and indulging in something sweet to lift my mood. I was about to agree when my phone buzzed in my pocket, pulling me out of the moment.

I glanced at the caller ID: Kayla.

I slid the phone open, lifting it to my ear. “Hey, Kayla!”

“Where are you?” Her voice was warm and chipper, but there was an underlying curiosity in her tone.

I sighed, glancing at the group. “I’m just with my coworkers. We were going to grab lunch, but that famous pizza place in Central is closed.”

Kayla let out a dramatic groan. “Awe, man, I would’ve killed for some pizza.” Her voice was light, but I could tell she was just as disappointed as I was.

I smiled, a little amused by her over-the-top reaction. “I know, right? It was the only thing you ate in college.”

She laughed at that, the sound soft and easy. “True, true. But hey, I just got back from work. If you guys aren’t going anywhere, how about you bring them all to my place? I’ll whip something up.”

The offer was tempting. Kayla could cook, and her meals were always incredible. I looked back at the group, trying to gauge their reactions.

I spoke up, excitement creeping into my voice. “Hey, guys,” I called. “What do you think about eating at Kayla’s place?”

The change in Cyrus’s demeanor was immediate. “Kayla? The Kayla? The one you said cooks like she came from heaven?” He raised an eyebrow, clearly excited by the idea.

Leah’s eyes lit up too. “Is it that Kayla?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, that’s her.”

Serena, who had been unusually quiet up until that point, perked up. “Then what are we waiting for? To Kayla’s, it is!”

I nodded, pulling my phone away from my ear to tell Kayla we’d be there in a bit. “Cool, I’ll get started on the food. See you soon,” she said before hanging up.

I felt a familiar pull—a strange twinge in my chest as I looked at the wallpaper on my lock screen. It was a picture of Jungkook’s car, the one I had designed. My pride and joy.

Adam, who had been standing beside me, glanced down at my phone as I put it away. His eyes lingered on the screen for a moment before flicking up to meet mine. “Is that an F1 car?” he asked, his voice genuine, curious.

I nodded, feeling a slight rush of pride at his attention. “Yeah. I actually designed it about a month ago for the Monaco Grand Prix.”

His eyebrows raised, clearly impressed. “Wow. I didn’t know you were that talented.”

A small smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. I wasn’t used to this—getting compliments, especially from someone like Adam. It felt a little surreal. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

His eyebrows quirked, and he leaned in slightly, his gaze locked on mine. “Oh yeah?” There was a challenge in his tone, playful but layered with something else I couldn’t quite place.

I felt a knot twist in my stomach at his words. My heart picked up pace, but I wasn’t about to let him see how much he affected me. “Well,” I said, holding his gaze. “If you stick around, maybe I’ll tell you.”

The tension between us grew, thick and unspoken. For a second, the air around us seemed to hum with something almost electric. But before anything more could happen, Leah’s voice cut through the moment as she whispered into my ear.

“Let’s get going before you two start fucking each other in front of us,” she teased, giving me a playful nudge.

I snapped out of it, feeling my cheeks warm slightly. “Right, right. Let’s go to Kayla’s. I’m starving.”

And with that, we all piled back into the cars, the mood lifting slightly as we drove through the streets. But as we made our way toward Kayla’s place, I couldn’t help but feel that strange mix of excitement and nervousness again.

[d0rothydraws]

Piercing

(You have nipple piercings and Sylus finds out. I might do a part 2 is people want it i have ideas.)

You never thought that you would be the kind of person to do this yet here you were. You were out with some friends, as one does. Maybe you were slightly tipsy, maybe someone planted an idea earlier that night. You didn't really know. All you did know is you were laying on a padded chair, shirt off as a man was piercing your nipples.

Now you knew you wouldn't regret it. If anything, you could always take them out and the hole would close eventually. But as the piercings healed and you got used to it, you loved it. It wasn't as uncomfortable as you thought it would be and also it was like jewelry only you could see. Well, you and..

The night Sylus discovered your piercings was a night you would never remember. You had been what some would call dating for a month or so. While you tried to take it slow because you felt like that was the responsible thing to do, things just felt very natural with him. Though physically, you didn't take the leap yet. At least, fully.

There were plenty of nights where you were on his lap. His hand between your thighs, lips on yours. Yet for some reason you didn't feel ready to fully reveal yourself to him. Call it insecurity or maybe even the fear of it all ending up being for nothing, like usual. You didn't really know.

It was your weekend off work and you came over to his place to destress. You had made plans to watch some movies, play some board games and maybe even finally if you were brave enough, take that final step of intimacy. Coming straight from work Friday night you were still in your work clothes as you arrived. You already had everything you needed at his place. A whole dresser of clothes, your own shampoo and body wash. Any toiletries. If you ran out, he restocked. It was like a second home.

Sylus was still out finishing up god knows what which meant you were alone to your own devices. A fresh change of clothes was calling your name. Moving through the house you entered a room that you continued to deny was yours even though it had more of your items in it than your own room in your apartment. Opening the dresser you pulled out a tank top and some shorts.

Maybe you were still tired from work, maybe you couldn't hear over the song you were humming. Either way, you failed to notice that you no longer were alone. You turned your head to toss your work shirt in the clothes hamper to be washed and in turn was met with ruby eyes. They weren't looking at yours though like usual. They were looking lower.

It took you a moment to realize, you pulled your bra off with your shirt. Not the best for your bra's lifespan. But the best for convivence. So there you stood, in front of Sylus. Topless as your little secret was exposed. You felt heat pull in your gut. This isn't how you wanted the big reveal to happen, but the look on his face made you feel.. powerful. He looked hungry. You even seen his adams apple bob just a bit as he swallowed. With just a simple action you made this man look like he was going to devour you. But even still, he knew you had boundaries. No mater how badly he wanted to touch you.

"My my, kitten." He said, his voice low as he tore his eyes away from your chest to look at you. "Now that is a surprise I wasn't expecting." His voice was teasing but playful. He chuckled slightly, raising an eyebrow. "I wonder if you have any other secrets to uncover."

You didn't know if it was the adrenaline of being walked in on or the look in his eye but your body moved before your mind caught up to you. You stood in front of him as you took his hand and moved it to your breast. Your heart raced as his fingers began to play with the piercing. Taking a deep breath to try and steady your nerves and quickly growing heat that was beginning to boil inside you, you took a step closer so his hand was pushed even more against the soft tissue.

"Why don't you come find out?"

That's all it took before his lips were on yours. His free hand moving to cradle your head as his other hand continued to play with your nipple. You stepped back. He followed. Another step back, and again. Each one until the back of your legs pressed against the bed. Pulling back from the kiss you looked up at him. He looked back at you, his eyes intense but waiting. He was letting you have full control, for now at least.

"I always wanted to try something." You admitted, feeling your heart in your throat. You motioned for him to sit on the bed and as he did you straddled him, not able to stop yourself from pushing your hips against his just enough to make him groan. You had barely done anything to him. You weren't even fully naked. Yet you could feel how much you effected him.

You curled a hand into his hair as you guided his lips to your chest. He didn't need anymore instructions. His teeth toyed with the metal, pulling slightly as it made you gasp. His tongue brushing against your nipple before he pulled it into his mouth. Your head fell back as your eyes closed. A groan vibrated against your skin as he licked and bit at your sensitive skin. After a few minuets he pulled back with a growl before he moved in on the other one. His hips rutted up against you making you moan. His hands moving to your hips as you moved back against him. It felt like he was devouring you.

You heard a slight wet sound as he pulled away from your nipple to lick up your chest and neck. Shivering as the air hit your sensitive, wet skin. A hand moved up your side to cup one of your breasts, thumb and finger playing with your piercing. His voice was a low purr that made your skin tingle.

"I'm not going to be able to keep my hands of you, sweetie."

~

I havent written anything in so long im tired im sorry. i found this prompt in my drafts and ran with it

[mintyys-blog]

Steve Rogers x Reader: Finding Home

WARNINGS:

New York City had always been loud. Too loud, sometimes. Steve Rogers had never quite adjusted to the constant hum of modern life—the honking taxis, the flashing billboards, the way everything moved at a pace he wasn’t built for. But the noise inside his head was worse.

He wasn’t Captain America anymore. He wasn’t a soldier. He wasn’t sure who he was at all.

That’s how he ended up here, sitting on a park bench in Brooklyn, staring at the place where his childhood home used to be. The building was gone now, replaced by a sleek apartment complex. People passed by without a second glance, unaware of the history that once lived beneath their feet.

“Staring at it won’t bring it back, you know.”

Steve blinked, turning toward the voice. A woman stood beside him—you. You weren’t looking at him, just at the empty space he had been fixated on. A takeaway coffee cup was nestled between your hands, steam curling into the cool evening air.

He frowned slightly. “Do I know you?”

You finally glanced his way, and there was something in your eyes—something knowing. “No,” you admitted. “But I know that look. I see it every day in the mirror.”

Steve studied you. You were dressed warmly, a scarf wrapped snugly around your neck, your eyes distant but kind. You looked…tired. Not just physically, but in a way he understood too well.

“You lose something too?” he asked.

You exhaled a short, humorless laugh. “More like everything.”

A comfortable silence settled between you. Steve wasn’t used to strangers talking to him like this—like he was just some guy, not a symbol or a relic of another time. He found that he didn’t mind.

“You grew up here?” you asked after a moment.

“Yeah,” he said. “A long time ago.”

You nodded, as if you’d already figured that out. “Let me guess—you come here a lot, hoping it’ll feel the same. But it never does, does it?”

Steve’s throat tightened. “No. It doesn’t.”

You hummed as you took a sip of coffee, unfazed. “Yeah. That’s the thing about the past. It never stays where you left it.”

He didn’t know why, but he wanted to ask about your story. Why you were here. Why you understood. But before he could, you shifted on your feet.

“Well,” you said, stretching your arms over your head, “it was nice brooding with you, stranger.”

Steve let out a quiet chuckle—his first real one in days.

“See you around, Captain Rogers.”

He tensed. You knew who he was. But you didn’t treat him like it.

Before he could respond, you turned and walked away, disappearing into the city crowd.

Steve sat there for a long time after you left, the noise of the world around him dull compared to the sudden quiet in his mind.

He hadn’t realized how much he needed it.

And for the first time in a long time, he found himself hoping he’d see you again.

Steve didn’t expect to see you again.

New York was huge. People passed in and out of his life like ghosts—there one second, gone the next. But two weeks later, as he stepped into a quiet bookstore tucked between two brownstones in Brooklyn, there you were.

You sat cross-legged on the floor, reading a battered paperback. A cup of coffee rested beside you, a small ring of condensation forming on the wooden floor. You looked different than the last time he saw you—less guarded, like the weight of the city hadn’t quite found its way onto your shoulders today.

Steve didn’t mean to stare, but something about you made it impossible not to.

“You gonna stand there all day, or are you actually here to buy something?”

He blinked, startled. You hadn’t even looked up from your book.

“You knew it was me?”

You smirked, finally glancing at him. “Not many guys walk around like they stepped out of a vintage war poster.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Guess I should work on blending in.”

“Probably,” you teased, closing your book and rising to your feet. “So, what brings Captain America to a tiny bookstore in Brooklyn?”

He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Just looking for something to read.”

You eyed him for a second, then nodded toward a shelf in the corner. “You strike me as a classics kind of guy. Hemingway? Steinbeck?”

Steve followed your gaze. “You’re not wrong.”

You grinned. “I’m never wrong.”

He raised an eyebrow, amused. “That so?”

“Absolutely.” You crossed your arms, leaning against the bookshelf. “For example, I’d bet my next paycheck you haven’t read a new book in at least five years.”

Steve opened his mouth to argue—then hesitated.

You laughed. “Called it.”

Shaking his head, he reached for a random book. “Alright, then. What do you recommend?”

You studied him for a moment, then pulled a book off the shelf and handed it to him. The Night Circus.

Steve glanced at the cover. “Never heard of it.”

“Then you’re in for a treat.”

He stared at you for a beat, then carefully took the book from your hands.

You smiled. “You keep looking at me like that, Rogers, and I’m gonna start thinking you like me.”

Steve didn’t have an answer.

Steve never thought a book would be the reason he saw you again.

After leaving the bookstore that day, he found himself reading The Night Circus late into the night. He had always been a fast reader—years of pouring over war plans and reports had made sure of that—but this book felt different. It wasn’t about battles or strategy. It was about wonder, about a world that felt impossible yet strangely real.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, he wasn’t thinking about the past.

Which is why, a few days later, he found himself standing outside the bookstore again. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing—he told himself he was just there to buy another book—but part of him knew better.

The little bell above the door chimed as he stepped inside.

“You finished it already?”

Steve turned to find you sitting behind the counter, a knowing smirk on your face.

He chuckled, holding up the book. “You were right. I liked it.”

“I’m always right,” you said, leaning forward on your elbows. “So? Favorite part?”

Steve hesitated. He didn’t usually talk about books with people—Bucky had been the only one who ever really cared about that sort of thing—but something about the way you looked at him made him want to answer.

“The clock,” he admitted. “The one that changes every night. I liked that.”

Your smile softened. “Yeah. Me too.”

Silence settled between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. For the first time in a long time, Steve felt like he wasn’t being watched—not as a soldier, not as Captain America. Just as himself.

“I, uh…” He cleared his throat, suddenly unsure of himself. “I was wondering if you’d want to get coffee sometime.”

Your eyebrows raised slightly, but you didn’t seem surprised.

“You asking me on a date, Rogers?”

Steve felt his ears burn. “Only if you want it to be.”

You studied him for a moment, then grinned. “Alright. Coffee sounds nice.”

Relief flooded his chest. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted you to say yes until you did.

“Good,” he said, smiling. “It’s a date.”

And for the first time in a long time, Steve Rogers felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

Steve wasn’t nervous. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

It was just coffee. A simple, casual thing.

So why the hell did he feel like he was walking into a battlefield?

He had faced Hydra, aliens, and even time itself, but standing outside the café where he was supposed to meet you, he felt something he hadn’t in a long time—anticipation. It was unfamiliar, almost foreign, but not unwelcome.

When he finally stepped inside, the bell above the door chimed, and his eyes landed on you immediately. You were sitting at a corner table, stirring your drink absentmindedly, deep in thought.

For a moment, he just watched you. The way your lips quirked as if reacting to some private thought, the way you tapped your fingers against the table in a quiet rhythm. There was something about you—something steady in a world that had always felt like shifting sand beneath his feet.

Then, as if sensing him, you looked up. A slow smile spread across your face.

“You’re late, Rogers.”

Steve huffed a laugh, taking the seat across from you. “By two minutes.”

“Two minutes, ten seconds,” you corrected, grinning. “But who’s counting?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You always this precise?”

“Only when I feel like it.”

Your teasing put him at ease, the nervous energy in his chest melting into something warm.

As the conversation flowed, Steve found himself surprised by how easy it was to talk to you. He told you about growing up in Brooklyn, about sneaking into movie theaters with Bucky, about the streets that no longer looked the same. In turn, you told him about your own past—how you’d moved to the city looking for something you couldn’t quite name, how you’d found comfort in quiet bookstores and late-night walks.

There was a familiarity in your words, an understanding that ran deeper than simple conversation. You knew what it was like to feel unmoored, to search for something without knowing exactly what it was.

“So,” you said after a while, tapping your fingers against the side of your cup. “What now?”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” you said, tilting your head. “Are we just gonna pretend this is a one-time thing, or are you gonna admit you like me?”

He blinked, caught completely off guard. “I—”

You smirked. “Relax, Cap. I like you too.”

Steve let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “You do?”

“Obviously,” you said, rolling your eyes. “You think I go around recommending books to just anyone?”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “I guess not.”

You leaned forward slightly, a playful glint in your eye. “So… you gonna kiss me, or do I have to wait for our third date?”

Steve’s breath hitched, his pulse quickening. He had always been careful—hesitant when it came to things like this. But as he looked at you, saw the warmth in your gaze, the way you looked at him like he was just Steve, not Captain America, he thought… maybe he didn’t have to be so careful this time.

“Third date?” he murmured. “That a rule?”

You shrugged. “Not officially.”

A slow smile spread across his lips. “Good.”

And then, before he could overthink it, he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours.

The world outside the café faded away—the noise, the past, the uncertainties of the future. In that moment, there was only you.

And for the first time in a long time, Steve Rogers felt like he had finally found home.

[bodythiefsblog]

"The Suit and the Spell"

Ethan had always been good at blending into the background. He wasn’t unpopular, exactly—just forgettable. The kind of guy who sat quietly in class, answered when called on, and never made waves. But beneath his unassuming exterior, Ethan harbored a secret so intense it consumed him. A secret he could never, ever share with anyone.

He was in love with Mr. Calloway. Not just any Mr. Calloway—*the* Mr. Calloway. His classmate Liam’s father. The CEO of some high-powered company, the kind of man who wore suits so impeccably tailored they looked like they’d been painted onto his body. And that body… God, that body. Ethan had never been more aware of his own heartbeat than when Mr. Calloway walked into a room, his tie slightly loosened, his voice a low rumble that made Ethan’s knees weak.

It was ridiculous. It was impossible. It was never going to happen. But Ethan couldn’t stop himself. He’d tried. He’d really tried. But every time he saw Mr. Calloway—dropping Liam off at school, picking him up, leaning against his car with that effortless confidence—Ethan felt like he was drowning. He needed to be closer. He needed to *be* him.

That’s how he found himself on the dark web at 2 a.m., scrolling through forums about spells and possession. It sounded insane, even to him, but desperation had a way of making the impossible seem plausible. He found it eventually: a spell to possess someone’s body. The instructions were vague, written in broken English, but Ethan didn’t care. He gathered the ingredients—a black candle, a lock of hair (he’d swiped one from Mr. Calloway’s coat during a school event), and a drop of his own blood. He waited until his parents were asleep, then lit the candle and began the incantation.

The room grew cold, the air thick with static. Ethan’s heart pounded as he chanted the words, his voice trembling. He could feel it working, the spell pulling him out of his body, into the void. He focused on Mr. Calloway—his sharp jawline, his broad shoulders, the way his suit pants clung to his—

And then, everything went wrong.

There was a flash of light, a sound like shattering glass, and Ethan was thrown backward. When he opened his eyes, he wasn’t in Mr. Calloway’s body. He wasn’t even in his own. He was… in Liam’s.

Liam. His classmate. Mr. Calloway’s *son*. Ethan stared at his reflection in the mirror, his stomach churning. Liam’s face stared back, wide-eyed and panicked. But Liam wasn’t there. Not really. Ethan could feel it—Liam’s consciousness was gone, dormant, like a computer in sleep mode. And in its place were Liam’s memories, flooding Ethan’s mind like a dam had burst.

He saw snippets of Liam’s life: childhood birthdays, family vacations, arguments with his dad. He felt Liam’s emotions—his frustrations, his insecurities, his quiet admiration for his father. It was overwhelming, invasive, and yet… fascinating. Ethan had never been close to Liam. They weren’t friends, barely even acquaintances. But now, he knew everything about him. Every secret, every thought, every memory. It was like stepping into a movie halfway through and realizing you already knew all the characters.

Ethan took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. This wasn’t what he’d planned. He’d wanted to be Mr. Calloway, to feel what it was like to be him, to wear those suits, to command that presence. But now he was stuck in Liam’s body, with Liam’s memories and Liam’s life. And Liam… Liam was gone. Or at least, he wasn’t here. Ethan was alone in his head.

He sat down on the edge of Liam’s bed, running a hand through Liam’s hair. It felt strange, foreign, but also… familiar. Like he’d been doing it for years. He glanced around the room, taking in the posters on the walls, the clutter on the desk, the faint smell of cologne lingering in the air. This was Liam’s space, but now it was his.

A part of him felt guilty. He hadn’t meant to take over Liam’s body. He hadn’t meant to erase him, even temporarily. But another part of him—a darker, more selfish part—was curious. If he couldn’t be Mr. Calloway, maybe being Liam was the next best thing. After all, Liam was close to him. Closer than Ethan could ever hope to be.

He stood up, smoothing out Liam’s shirt. He could do this. He could pretend to be Liam, just for a little while. He had all the memories, all the knowledge. No one would suspect a thing. And maybe, just maybe, he could get closer to Mr. Calloway. Not as Ethan, the invisible classmate, but as Liam, his son.

It was wrong. He knew it was wrong. But the temptation was too strong to resist.

Ethan took a deep breath and walked out of Liam’s room, heading downstairs. He could hear Mr. Calloway’s voice in the kitchen, deep and warm, sending a shiver down his spine. This was it. This was his chance.

He just hoped he wouldn’t regret it.

Ethan had always been good at adapting. It was a skill he’d honed over years of blending into the background, of observing without being noticed. But this… this was different. This wasn’t just adapting. This was *becoming*. And as he settled into Liam’s life, he found himself slipping into the role more easily than he’d expected.

The first few days were a whirlwind of adjustment. Ethan had to learn how to act like Liam—how to talk, how to walk, how to laugh. It wasn’t hard, not with Liam’s memories guiding him. But it was strange, like wearing someone else’s skin. And then there was Mr. Calloway. Liam’s father. The man Ethan had been obsessed with for so long.

Living under the same roof as him was both a dream and a nightmare. A dream because Ethan was closer to him than he’d ever been. A nightmare because he had to constantly remind himself not to stare, not to linger, not to give himself away. But it was hard. So, so hard.

It started small. Ethan would linger in the hallway outside Mr. Calloway’s bedroom, pretending to be on his phone while he listened to the sound of his voice on a work call. He’d catch glimpses of him through the crack in the door, his suit jacket slung over a chair, his tie loosened, his sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms. Ethan’s heart would race, his palms sweating, but he forced himself to stay calm. He couldn’t risk getting caught.

Then it escalated.

One evening, Mr. Calloway came home late from work, looking tired but still impossibly handsome. He dropped his suit jacket on the back of a chair and headed upstairs to change. Ethan, sitting on the couch with a book he wasn’t really reading, waited until he heard the bedroom door close before slipping upstairs. He paused outside the door, his breath catching as he heard the soft rustle of fabric. Mr. Calloway was changing.

Ethan’s pulse thundered in his ears as he pressed his ear to the door, straining to hear every sound. The slide of a zipper, the thud of shoes hitting the floor, the soft sigh as Mr. Calloway pulled off his shirt. Ethan’s imagination ran wild, his face burning with a mix of guilt and desire. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this, but he couldn’t help himself. He needed to be close to him, even if it was like this.

When Mr. Calloway opened the door a few minutes later, dressed in a casual t-shirt and sweatpants, Ethan nearly jumped out of his skin. He quickly stepped back, pretending to be heading to his own room.

“Hey, Liam,” Mr. Calloway said, his voice warm but tired. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Ethan said, forcing a smile. “Just… heading to bed.”

Mr. Calloway nodded, ruffling Ethan’s hair as he passed. The touch sent a jolt through him, and he had to fight the urge to lean into it. “Get some rest, kiddo. Big day tomorrow.”

Ethan watched him walk away, his heart pounding. He waited until Mr. Calloway was downstairs before slipping into his bedroom. The room smelled like him—like cologne and something uniquely *him*. Ethan’s eyes fell on the pile of clothes in the corner, the suit Mr. Calloway had been wearing earlier. He hesitated for a moment, then crossed the room and picked up the shirt, holding it to his face. It still smelled like him, like sweat and aftershave and something earthy. Ethan’s knees went weak.

He knew it was wrong. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this. But he couldn’t stop himself. He buried his face in the fabric, inhaling deeply, his mind spinning with fantasies he knew would never come true.

Over the next few days, Ethan found himself pushing the boundaries further. He started volunteering to do the laundry, just so he could get his hands on Mr. Calloway’s clothes. He’d bury his face in the pile of dirty laundry, breathing in the scent of him, his heart racing with a mix of guilt and exhilaration. He’d carefully fold the clean clothes, lingering over each piece, imagining what it would be like to wear them, to *be* him.

And then there were the hugs. Mr. Calloway was a tactile man, always quick to pull Liam into a hug or ruffle his hair. Ethan had never been on the receiving end of that kind of affection before, and it was intoxicating. He found himself seeking out excuses to be close to him—lingering in the kitchen when Mr. Calloway was cooking, sitting next to him on the couch while they watched TV. And when Mr. Calloway hugged him, Ethan would hold on just a little too long, savoring the warmth of his body, the strength of his arms.

It was wrong. He knew it was wrong. But he couldn’t help himself. He was in too deep.

One night, as Ethan lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, he realized he couldn’t keep doing this. He couldn’t keep living this lie, couldn’t keep stealing these moments. He needed to find a way to reverse the spell, to give Liam his body back. But the thought of leaving, of going back to being invisible Ethan, was unbearable.

He didn’t know what to do. All he knew was that he was in too deep, and there was no easy way out.

Ethan had gotten reckless.

It wasn’t enough anymore to simply *smell* Mr. Calloway’s clothes. He needed more. He needed to feel closer, to dissolve the line between himself and the man he’d obsessed over for months. And so, late one night, he found himself in the laundry room, the door locked behind him, kneeling in front of the hamper with trembling hands.

The house was quiet. Mr. Calloway had gone to bed hours ago, exhausted from another long day at the office. Ethan had waited until he heard the soft, rhythmic breathing of sleep through the bedroom door before creeping downstairs. Now, he sifted through the pile of dirty laundry—shirts, socks, trousers—until he found what he was looking for.

*The underwear.*

His heart pounded as he held them, the fabric soft and slightly damp with sweat. He brought them to his face, inhaling deeply, the scent flooding his senses like a drug. It was intoxicating, shameful, *electric*. He closed his eyes, losing himself in the fantasy—

**THUD.**

Ethan froze.

Footsteps. Heavy, deliberate, coming down the stairs.

*Shit. Shit. SHIT.*

He scrambled to shove the underwear back into the hamper, his hands shaking. The footsteps grew louder, closer. The doorknob rattled.

“Liam?” Mr. Calloway’s voice, thick with sleep, called through the door. “You in there?”

Ethan’s mind raced. He grabbed a random towel from the hamper and threw it into the washing machine, slamming the lid shut just as the door unlocked. Mr. Calloway stood in the doorway, squinting in the dim light, his hair mussed and his t-shirt rumpled.

“What’re you doing down here so late?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Ethan forced a laugh, hoping it sounded like Liam’s. “Uh… laundry? You always say I never help out, so…”

Mr. Calloway raised an eyebrow. “At 1 a.m.?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d be… productive.” Ethan gestured awkwardly at the washing machine, where the towel spun in a pathetic, lonely circle.

Mr. Calloway stared at him for a moment, his gaze sharpening. Ethan’s blood turned to ice. *Could he tell?* Did he sense something off about his son’s sudden midnight diligence?

But then Mr. Calloway sighed, running a hand over his stubbled jaw. “Look, kiddo… if this is about yesterday, when I snapped at you for forgetting to take out the trash, I’m sorry. Work’s been stressful, but that’s not your fault.”

Ethan blinked. *Liam’s memories* flickered—a fight over chores, slammed doors, silent dinners. He swallowed. “It’s… fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Mr. Calloway stepped into the room, his presence filling the small space. Ethan’s throat went dry as he caught the scent of his sleep-warm skin, the faint trace of bourbon on his breath.

“You’ve been acting weird lately,” Mr. Calloway said quietly. “Hanging around more. *Staring.*”

Ethan’s stomach dropped. “I—I haven’t—”

“It’s okay.” Mr. Calloway cut him off, his voice softening. “I know things have been tense since your mom left. Maybe I haven’t been around enough. But you can talk to me, Liam. You know that, right?”

The guilt hit Ethan like a punch. He nodded, staring at the floor.

Mr. Calloway reached out, squeezing Ethan’s shoulder. The touch burned. “Get some sleep, okay? We’ll… we’ll figure this out.”

He turned to leave, but paused in the doorway. “And Liam?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time you do laundry… maybe use detergent?” He nodded at the washing machine, where Ethan had forgotten to add soap. The towel sloshed sadly in plain water.

“Oh. Right. Yeah,” Ethan mumbled, his face flaming.

Mr. Calloway smirked—a rare, tired smile—and disappeared upstairs.

Ethan slumped against the washing machine, his legs trembling. That was too close. *Way* too close. He needed to be careful. He needed to stop.

But later, as he crept back to Liam’s room, he paused outside Mr. Calloway’s door. It was slightly ajar, the sound of deep breathing drifting into the hallway. Ethan hovered, torn, before slipping inside.

Moonlight spilled over the bed, illuminating Mr. Calloway’s sleeping form. Ethan’s breath caught. He looked younger like this, his guard down, one arm thrown over his head. Ethan inched closer, his heart hammering.

He shouldn’t. He *knew* he shouldn’t.

But then he saw it—the discarded t-shirt on the floor, the one Mr. Calloway had been wearing earlier. Ethan snatched it up and pressed it to his face, inhaling greedily.

*Just one more time*, he told himself. *One more time, and then I’ll stop.*

He didn’t notice Mr. Calloway’s eyes flicker open.