#i guess there's always been a piece of my mind that knows these two would drop everything for this kid

[slashersbabes]

Pour le pire

Summary : I never meant to become part of their world—but maybe I was always meant to be here. They claimed me, hunted me, bled for me. Their love is obsession, their devotion a cage, but I’ve never been one to break easily. They don’t just own me—I own them too. Their love is possessive, suffocating, but I don’t mind the way their hands bruise or the way their knives carve. If this is madness, then I’ll sink into it willingly. After all, love is just another form of power—and I refuse to be the one who breaks first.

Chapter 4 : In his eyes

Proxies x fem!reader

TW : OOC, kidnapping, toxic behaviour

Chapter 3 - Chapter 5

A/N : Hey guys ! I just wanted to thank you for liking and reading what I write, this chapter took a bit of time to come out as I got sick (small flu nothing serious) but the next one should be coming sooner ! Again thanks for reading this and enjoy :)

2.3 K words

Not being able to tell the time was slowly messing up my internal clock. There was no clock in sight, nothing to be able to tell the time, only thing I knew for sure was that it was nighttime. After I finished visiting the house, at the same time looking outside the window for any sign of civilization and checking for any blind spots by which I could escape. It bummed me out that there was no civilization in sight, only the darkness of the forest. But I did find something interesting during my search. So far I’ve found one window with a busted lock in a room, all the others were barricaded with wood just like mine, I couldn’t guess who’s room it was as there isn’t any decoration, the only thing I’ve found is a used cup with cigarette buds inside. I’ll have to be careful and discover which of them is a smoker, that way I can maybe get closer to him and get easier access to that window. That is if I manage to do it in enough time before we move out.

I spent some time looking through every cabinet, cracks in the wall and checking everything that seemed interesting, and again with no way to tell the time, I don’t know how much time I spent doing all this. With nothing to kill time anymore, I decided to head back downstairs. I slowly climbed down the stairs, not wanting to attract the attention of the two other residents. As I reached the end, I started walking towards the living room, when I saw something in the corner of my eye, something I didn’t see at first. Right next to the staircase, on the wall, was a piece of ripped wallpaper, it was on the bottom so it didn’t immediately catch my attention. But something was sticking out, the more I looked at the outline, the more I saw it. There is a door on the other side. I don’t know if it could be useful to me, as seeing where it is it probably leads to a room inside the house, like a basement. But seeing how hidden it is, it’s either because the room is dangerous, unaccessible or important. And I was willing to bet there is something on the other side. They didn’t try to do this with the windows, they just barricaded them, if they hid this door so well it has to mean something.

I looked over my shoulder at the entrance of the living room, maybe if they are both busy I could try to open the door. It would be hard to cover the traces though, as the wallpaper didn’t disconnect at the outline of the door, hence why I didn’t notice it at first. As I looked back, I saw the two men’s heads sticking out of the couches, looking at the TV, some show playing, I could barely see it anyway. I decided that it wasn’t worth the risk, Brian would probably be back soon, and with Toby and Tim right next to the door, it was practically impossible.

I stood up and made my way toward the living room. Tim sat on the couch with a beer in hand, watching what I can now see is… The Bachelor ? He seems weirdly engrossed in what's happening on the screen, nursing his beer while making faces at the show. Meanwhile Toby was slumped on the couch, looking at his phone. That was something interesting, Toby has a phone. Well I guess they all have phones, that would be pretty logical. I hadn’t really thought about it but now that I’m seeing it, stealing one of their phones might be one of the easiest options. Maybe they kept my phone hidden in one of their rooms. I’ll probably snoop around some more tomorrow, for now I desperately want fresh clothes and a warm shower to get rid of the horrible stench of old blood. 

Still standing up I imitated Tim by watching what was happening on the TV. I couldn’t really understand though as I didn’t have the context, but that was the only thing that could ease my boredom. After some time Tim looked up from the TV straight at me.

“I don’t know if Brian is coming back soon, you might as well sit down.”

He said it in a voice that left no other option, I carefully chose the left couch, farther away from Toby. I still needed to get close to him but I feel like he doesn’t really want to speak to me, especially with our little interaction earlier. It was quite uncomfortable at first, Tim was discreetly throwing glances my way every few minutes, as if deciphering what was going on in my head. While Toby dropped his phone and watched the TV with us, at least he wasn’t creepily watching me when he thought I wasn’t looking. I think Tim should be the first one I should get closer with, he seems pathetically riddled with guilt, which is really weird considering he is a murderer but I digress. He is quite paradoxical, he forces me to be here but at the same time feels bad about it, so like an absent parent, he tries to make up for it by overcompensating. Which is useful to me right now. 

But if I want to get through him I’ll also need to get through the two others, otherwise they’ll block any attempt I make at manipulating him. I don’t know enough about Brian and Toby to make any early judgement, Brian seems laid back, but he could see right through me, and Toby is pretty scary, though quite childish which could be a benefit, I can use it against him. I just need to find what I can use to make Brian fold, and I will start getting a plan into action. Always changing houses is still a downside, but I can still use the road to make a break for it. I didn’t initially think about it, but the moment they’ll be the most vulnerable is outside, I just hope that they won’t drug me for the whole duration of the trip because that will make my plan fail. For now my main plan of action is escaping while on the move, but if it comes down to it, I’ll find a way to escape even if it is through blood.

I was so deep inside my thoughts that I didn’t even hear the front door open, I just realized that Brian was home when a hand suddenly landed on my shoulder. I jumped up from surprise, a small gasp left my mouth. I could hear Brian laughing from behind me, like it was the funniest thing in the world. 

“Sorry I didn’t think that would scare you. I’ve got some of your stuff back, I need you to help me get them out of the car.”

I let out a soft breath and got up from the couch, following Brian with a steady step. When we got to the car, I saw that it was rundown and beat up. I wonder how it is still running, seeing how it looks from the outside. Brian saw how I looked at the car, and smiled probably knowing how it looked.

“Okay I know it looks really bad, but it’s lasted us quite a while, and it’s more convenient to use this old junk than to steal a car every time we move.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to get a bigger car now that I’m here ? I mean with how much space my stuff is already taking, I don’t think we’ll be very comfortable with all of us in the car.”

He paused for a second, and looked back at me. “Yeah you’re right, we’ll see how the first trip goes and if it’s too crowded I’ll see with Tim what we can do.” 

He then turned around, opened the doors and started taking out my things. “Come on now, take the suitcase, I'll carry the bags.”

I quickly took the suitcase out of his hands and carried it all the way with me up to my room, I could hear Brian’s footsteps following behind me. At last I finally got some of my things back, and most importantly, something to change into, and soap to wash away all the blood. We finally reached my room and laid all the bags down.

“I think that’s all, if you need something else from your apartment tell me when you’re done unpacking. We’re leaving soon and after this, we won’t be coming back.”

“Okay I’ll tell you, by the way can I use the shower ? I can’t stand the smell of blood anymore, I'm going to go crazy if I have to smell like this any longer.”

He let out a small laugh. “It’s all yours, don't worry, you don’t have to ask for permission. Do you need help unpacking ?”

“No ! Don’t worry, I'm all good.”

He just nodded his head, looking back at me one last time before closing the door. I started moving when I heard his footsteps walking down the stairs. I quickly looked through the bags and the suitcase, finding something to wear for the night, shampoo, soap and my skincare. I wanted to be done with this first before finally settling in. 

I found everything that I needed and made my way towards the bathroom. It was quite small, a bathtub, toilet and sink, with almost no space to walk in between them. I laid my towel near the sink and started undressing. It felt good to finally be able to take off this crusty dress, and my underwear, seeing as I had been wearing it for two days now, I felt like my body was finally breathing again. The heat of the water felt almost refreshing on my skin, finally feeling the blood coming off my body and hair felt good.

I spent some time enjoying the warmth and calm feeling of the water before coming out. I got myself ready before stepping out of the bathroom. The moment I stepped out I jumped from surprise, my heart couldn’t get a moment of rest today it seemed. Toby was standing for I don’t know how long in front of the door, he was leaning on the wall in front of the door, which told me he had probably been waiting for a while. I saw a slimmer of amusement on his face from my reaction, while all I could emulate was annoyance. 

“Are you hungry ?”

The question threw me off from how random it seemed, but now that he’s talking about it, I haven’t eaten in a day and I’m starving.

“Oh yeah I really am ! Did you cook ?”

He walked closer to me and took my wrist which made me immediately tense. He didn’t even seem to notice as he started leading me towards the stairs. “No I-I can’t cook for shit. It's usually T-Tim that cooks. Tonight i-it’s g-grilled cheese.”

I noticed that everytime Toby had ticks he would also twitch slightly, I only noticed by the way he squeezed my wrist every time he would stutter on a word. I wonder if it gets worse when he feels overwhelmed or angry, because it could be very useful in the future. I feel kind of bad for thinking that way but I guess in a situation like this one, the moral compass can go to hell.

I followed him- or rather I was being pulled by him towards the kitchen, where a round table was set with dinner on it. Toby finally let go of me to sit down and immediately start gobbling down his meal. Tim is standing near the furnace probably making the last grilled cheese and Brian is already seated, pouring himself what I think is Whiskey. Whiskey and grilled cheese, a peculiar combo that I do not want to try.

I suddenly heard my stomach rumbling, which is really embarrassing when you’ve got three men almost always watching you. It's a weird paradox where you still want to make a good impression even though you were literally kidnapped. The human brain really was weird. I decided to sit down and wait for everybody to be ready to start eating, unlike Toby who was already stuffing his face at an alarming rate. Tim finally brought the last batch of grilled cheese sandwiches, and looked over at me.

“You don’t like grilled cheese ?”

I looked at him weirdly, it’s quite obvious that I was just waiting for everybody.

“What ? No, I like it. I was just waiting for everybody to be seated. I thought that was normal.”

He just looked at me with what I could only describe as a lovestruck look, and spoke in a quiet voice. “You’re so sweet.” 

His sickly sweet words and puppy looks almost made me sway, especially when I’ve known him as a very cold and quiet man. Seeing him melt for something so trivial that I did, it almost made me want to stay. I mean, having three hot men on their hands and knees for you just because they feel lonely, who wouldn’t dream of that ? Well I certainly do, maybe I can enjoy my time around here before making the big break. I just threw him a small smile before finally eating what was on my plate. From the corner of my eye I could see the way Brian was looking after my little exchange with Tim, I imagined that there would be some kind of rivalry between them, they’re men after all that’s what you would expect. But on the contrary, Brian seemed almost proud of Tim. So I was right, if I want to get through one of them, I need to get through all of them. And it seems I’m already doing the right thing, I just need to play the part a bit more and it will all be over in a matter of time. I’m already enjoying this all too much.

[alrightbuckaroo]

when life gives you lemons

With ao3 down, it seems like the perfect time to transfer more stories from my 100 Ways to Say I Love You series over here! Here's one from early 2023. Credit to this user for the divider and I hope you enjoy <3

“TK?” Jonah’s voice is quiet and TK can hear his confusion clear through the question. “Am I doing something wrong?”

He looks up at TK; his eyebrows knitted together, and his lower lip is jutted out. His green eyes showing slight defeat. TK doesn’t know how to do it; but he knows he wants that look to go away. “Of course not, buddy. We just need to be patient; someone will walk by, eventually.”

TK didn’t say it out loud; but he wasn’t too sure how true that would be with it being in the high 80s on a Thursday afternoon in the suburbs of Austin.

Jonah doesn’t seem too convinced by TK’s false optimism so TK tries his next best trick; distraction.

“Why don’t you inside, grab some more markers, huh?” TK suggests. “We can make some more signs, use some of that glitter glue we got yesterday.”

Jonah dejectedly agrees before hoping off of his chair and walking through the opened garage and into their house.

TK occupies his time alone by spinning the mixing spoon in the pitcher of strawberry fizzy lemonade and rearranging the red plastic cups. He feels his phone start to vibrate agains the table and hurries to grab it, at risk of the newly arranged cups becoming askew.

“Hey,” TK answers, not bothering to see who it is.

“Hey babe,” Carlos’ voice is cutting through the line and TK smiles to himself. He sounds exhausted but TK loves the sound just the same. “I’m heading home, did you want me to pick up anything for dinner?”

TK looks at the pitcher of lemonade again before answering. “Do you think we already have everything for chicken Alfredo?”

Carlos is quiet a moment, visualizing what they already have in the kitchen. “I think so, but, I’ll probably pick up some more Parmesan cheese anyways. We just had it a couple of nights ago, is it that high in demand again already?”

TK shrugs even though he knows Carlos can't see him. “It’s Jonah’s favorite and I think he just needs a little bit of a pick me up.”

“What’s going on?” TK can hear Carlos getting into this car, the sound of his voice becoming more insulated.

“We’re selling lemonade.” TK mixes the pitcher again as he sees some of the flavoring start to settle at the bottom. “Well, we’re trying to.”

“TK, I already told you we can afford the science camp we’re sending Jonah to this week.” Carlos jokes.

TK fights a laugh before he replies. “First of all, it’s math camp this week, science was last week and second,” TK leans against the back his chair. “You’re not funny.”

“Oh you know you laughed,” Carlos answers, seeing right through TK.

“Anyways,” TK says, moving swiftly on. “Last week they learned how to make fizzy lemonade as a science experiment. This week, they watched a School House Rock special about how to save money. Long story short, I have a seven year old who has decided to go toe to toe with Country Time Lemonade.” TK explains and Carlos laughs. “Though it’s not looking to good for us but Jonah doesn’t want to give up.”

“Well, he is your brother.” Carlos remarks, off-handedly.

“I’m assuming that’s a good thing?”

“It’s the best thing, TK” Carlos answers. “You never do anything halfway; you should have known Jonah wouldn’t either.”

“That’s true.” TK mumbles. “And we are both our mother’s child.” TK mutters to himself, thinking fondly about Gwyn. Gwyn always tried her best not to give up on anything, on anyone; on him. “It’s just, we haven’t had any customers and I can tell it’s starting to get to him. I don’t want him to be sad about something out of his control.”

Carlos is silent a moment before replying, “Well, between you and me, I think his luck might change soon.”

TK’s looking over the signs he and Jonah had spent the last 20 minutes working on. He points at a black and yellow blob. “And that is,”

“It’s a bumblebee, TK.” Jonah rolls his eyes. “Can’t you see the stinger?”

TK looks at the drawing closer, not seeing anything different. “Oh yeah, it’s right there.” TK points in a general direction and Jonah moves his finger down until he’s pointing at something completely different. “Ah, got it.”

He holds up the sign, “Why bumblebees? We’re not selling honey.”

Jonah releases a very purposeful and heavy sigh. “They’re yellow? Like the lemons?”

TK nods his head, “Oh yes, obviously.”

Before TK can continue to embarrass himself is front of the seven year old business mogul himself, he sees a movement out of the corner of his eyes. He turns slightly to see Carlos walking down the sidewalk. He’s still dressed in his uniform and TK can’t help but feel a pang sympathy for him. Last time he checked his watch it was 86 degrees; and that was an hour ago.

Carlos walks up to where both he and Jonah are sitting before saying, “Hey there, so I was in the neighborhood.

TK’s eyebrows furrow, “Carlos we’re married, we live together, this is our neighborhood.”

“Just go with it, babe.” Carlos says through a tired smile. “Anyways, I was in the neighborhood and couldn’t help but be drawn to this colorful sign. I really love the bumblebees.”

Jonah’s smile is so bright TK can feel himself falling in love with Carlos all over again. “Thanks! He didn’t even know where the stinger was.” Jonah using his thumb to gesture to TK.

“How could he not,” Carlos jokes and TK can start to see where this is going. “Isn’t it that,” Carlos points to exactly where the stinger is. “Right there?”

“Is there something we can help you with, sir?” TK asks the question; annoyed but more importantly, playful.

“Well, I was hoping to buy some lemonade, and this seemed like the perfect place.” Carlos smiles and TK swears he can see all traces of defeat leave Jonah’s eyes. “What do you have?”

Jonah begins to talk Carlos through the both options: classic lemonade, strawberry lemonade; both fizzy. “It’s twenty-five cents a cup.”

“Hmm,” Carlos looks over the pitchers, weighing his options. “How much for the both pitchers?”

“You want to buy all of it?” Jonah asks, eyes wide.

“Yeah, how much are we looking at?” Carlos asks, reaching for his wallet. TK gently nudges Jonah, whispering loud enough for Carlos to hear. “Overcharge him.”

Jonah ignores him as Carlos laughs and pulls out a five. Jonah does the math, and TK watches his work. He can see the math camp is doing him some good. When Jonah tells him how much it’ll be, Carlos hands over the five and tells him to keep the change.

“Thanks, Carlos.” Jonah smiles up at Carlos, one of his front teeth missing.

“Go put that with the money you got from the tooth fairy, okay?” TK suggests. “Then come back out here so we can clean this all up before dinner.”

TK watches after Jonah before turning and looking up at Carlos. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.” Carlos argues and TK sighs as he stands up and begins pouring the lemonade from the cups back into the pitchers.

“You know I do.” TK leans forward looking around them and the houses next to them. “Where’s your baby?”

“What are you talking about, you’re standing right there.” Carlos says the words casually.

TK smiles despite himself. “You’re cute, I mean your car.”

“Parked down at the Bakers; don’t worry, I let Mandy know.” Carlos shrugs, “Felt like parking in the drive way and walking up would ruin the illusion.” Carlos gestures to the plastic bag in hand, “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go put some Parmesan cheese in the fridge before this Texas heat causes it to spoil.”

TK grabs Carlos’ shoulder before he makes it too far, “Babe,” He looks up at Carlos. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you two.” Carlos smiles. “Chicken Alfredo paired with a ice cold glass of fizzy lemonade. Sounds like a pretty perfect dinner to me, don’t you think?”

TK smiles. “About as perfect as could be.”

[arcticmist0324]

One thing that is difficult about writing historical fiction is when you’ve set your story up in the same time frame as major historical events, which you KNOW would be on your characters’ radar yet they don’t impact the plot. What is too much? What is too little?

[tojisun]

the apple that rolled over to the tree

!! fluff; f!reader; parenthood!!; simon-centric hehe >:3 // divider by @/plutism!

there is a… kid attached to your hip when simon returns home from a mission, his exhausted body stumbling into the kitchen where he finds you and it.

“what—”

he can’t even fathom the emotion coursing through him at the moment, what with shock triumphing over everything. still, you’d probably need to give him credit for not losing his goddamn mind at seeing a whole child — he couldn’t have been more than two years old with how he’s only three apples tall — clinging to you like a baby koala.

“oh my god, you’re back!” you squeal, unfazed at how dumbfounded your fiance has become, before shuffling close to embrace him.

simon reciprocates the hug anyway.

you step back, your lips still wobbling in your tears as you stare up at him, all awed like you couldn’t believe that he was back and simon wishes he can press his promises to your lips because he will always find a way to come back, he swears on his life, but also—

the child.

“sweetheart?” he begins, soft as to not spook you or the kid. “who’s, uh, who’s that?”

the child shifts, turning his little face from where it was burrowed onto your neck at the sound of simon’s voice. he rests his head on your clavicle, smooshing his already chubby cheek, before the biggest brown eyes that simon’s ever seen stare up at him, all doe-eyed and jarringly innocent, and simon, he—

well, not even babysitting tommy’s kids prepared him for this.

“this is yasha,” you murmur, pulling simon’s attention back to you. “or yakov, or james if he would want an english name.”

the boy reacts to you calling his name, and simon watches as those curious eyes tip up at you in question. you swipe your finger over his nose, the little thing scrunching up at the ticklish feeling, and simon becomes breathless at seeing the unadulterated joy in your face.

it is all parts soft and tender, but also anxious and worried, and simon begins to puzzle out the pieces.

“he’s my foster child. or ours, i guess, now that you’re here.” your voice is so fragile as you reply to him, your hand now beginning to rub soothing nothings on the boy’s back. simon wonders if it’s more to calm yourself down than it is to comfort the boy.

your lips purse, hesitating, and simon waits because while he he’s pieced out what you want to ask, he knows that this is something you would want to truly talk to him about. it is something he knows you have mustered up the courage to bring up so he gives it to you, open and ready, and he hopes that his face and his gait show that whatever it is you would want to say, simon will always support you no matter what.

“si?” you begin, looking heart-wrenchingly small in your worry. “i think i wanna adopt him.”

simon hums, stepping close but also being careful not to crowd yasha, before he curls his arms around you two — his family — and nuzzles his face on your other shoulder. “i’d love that.”

he offers you a smile, and squeezes your arm in comfort, then he watches as the tears come, easily springing up from your eyes. yasha startles, whirling to look up at his mother in worry. simon’s throat constricts at the thought of you being a mother and him, a father; how, now, there is someone else for simon to come home to. someone to fight for.

jesus. he’d need to tell the lads and maybe get wasted as a celebration.

“owies?” yasha asks, chubby fist balling your shirt.

“they’re happy tears, sweetie pie,” you reply, crooning. “i’m just so, so happy.”

yasha hums, nodding, probably already distracted, and simon takes that time to straighten back up. he pushes your hair away from your face, before he pitches forward to press a kiss on your forehead.

yeah, he’s happy too.

.

yasha gets spoiled, not that simon’s complaining given that he’s been the one doing all the spoiling.

“really, si? a new toly?” you ask, arms crossed over your chest in your exasperation.

toly or anatoly, or tory because yasha still can’t speak properly, is the name that yasha gave to all of his new stuffed toys. it all started with a dog plush that simon bought from the supermarket on a whim and gave to the boy. it was laughably quick how yasha had abandoned his blocks to make grabby hands to the toy, before squealing out that name.

the next stuffed toy that yasha received, which was just the softest and roundest penguin plush toy that simon’s ever seen, was also named toly. so was that teddy bear you bought for him. or that reindeer he got for christmas. somehow, every single one had been named toly.

the only thing you and simon can find about toly was that anatoly means sunrise. simon was so sure it was the russian word for animal, because why else would yasha repeat it, but who would have thought that their little fish is so imaginative?

like, of course he’s going to name all of his toys toly because they are as warm as sunrises. see? smart kid.

but this one, this new toly, set off world records. it was a camel plush that simon saw at the airport when he was out, pretending to be a civilian.

(garrick had been assigned with him for that mission, and was quick to spot and mention simon’s on-duty purchase.

“it’s for my boy,” he grunted in reply, forgetting the fact that he’s yet to truly break the news to his squad. garrick had never looked as surprised, and next thing simon knew, the news made its way to their group chat.

price was amiable about the whole thing. mactavish? not so much.

he just about begged to see a picture of yasha — “and yer girl again, if you wouldn’t mind.” — or even visit him. then he invited garrick to come and price invited himself too, so now the guys are going to swing by some time soon.)

when simon gave it to yasha, their boy had stared at it for a solid minute — simon counted — before screaming and then running to snatch the toy from simon’s hold. he hugged the camel close to his person, his little head nuzzling against the plush face of the camel, all the while absolutely vibrating in unabashed excitement.

he picked up thundering footsteps and turned around just enough to see you literally slide into the room. yasha continued to hug the camel, ignorant of the distress he caused, while you looked on in your panic, buzzing with worry because you just heard your boy scream, damn it!

“he’s fine, bub,” simon said before you could ask, and he watched as you came down from your frenzy, your breathing slowing down at the rationalization that if simon was not panicked, then everything’s alright.

then, your eyes landed on the new stuff toy.

“really?” you asked.

in his defence, yasha adores camel-toly.

in your defence, yasha’s room is running out of space for his tolys.

…well, simon does have all that military money. gonna have to spend it on something else, right?

.

[charlie foxtrot]

sriley: link

john2: ????

sriley: new address.

garry: oh? congratulations.

sriley: thanks.

johnp: 👍

.

yasha was shy when saying hi to price, then outright cried when he saw mactavish, which made simon bark out loud in laughter. yasha only stopped sniffling when he saw kyle. in no time, yasha absolutely adored garrick to the point that he would not even let him go.

dinner was prepared and while you called them all to eat, simon ambled out of the kitchen, where he had been helping you, and walked towards kyle and yasha to pick up his son and seat him on his high chair. but yasha had only looked at him, his head tilted in question, before ignoring simon and clinging onto kyle.

hell, he had even let go of camel-toly so that he could use two chubby fists to hold onto kyle. surprised, simon didn’t even know how to react and watched as his sergeant offered him an apologetic smile before carrying his son to the dining room. kyle rounded the table and sat yasha on his high chair, only, yasha made a scene when kyle did so, and he released a lungful of screams and cries, breaking everyone’s eardrums and their hearts.

kyle stood there, worried and confused, and hovered because he did not know what to do. hell, none of them did, and then you walked out of the kitchen, rushing to yasha, and hummed songs to comfort your son.

you crooned when he made grabby hands to be picked up and you did so with no hesitation, your touch soothing the boy into quiet sniffles. but even then, yasha wouldn’t settle down as he wriggled in your arms, short limbs reaching for—

simon glowered.

yasha was reaching for kyle. you were quick to giggle, asking kyle if it was alright that yasha would eat with him, and simon had glared at his sergeant, daring him to deny their son of anything, before reluctantly nodding his approval at kyle’s happy trill of, “of course, ma’am!”

yasha had finally calmed down when you sat him on kyle’s lap, and his boy was even polite enough to actually eat his soft veggies every time kyle beckoned him to open his mouth for a new spoonful.

simon did not startle, but it was close, when your hand landed on his thigh.

“you okay, baby?” you asked, eyes furrowed in your worry.

“yeah,” he remembers replying with, his throat all choked-up because he knows yasha must be excited to have new people to play with, but still, there was something that stung when his boy chose garrick over him.

not that it was kyle’s fault because he is a dear for even doing all that he did for yasha, but simon had hoped that he would always be yasha’s favourite.

too lost in his thoughts, simon had almost missed yasha’s call.

“-ddy? daddy?” yasha asked, startling simon.

it was not the first time yasha called him that, but every time he did, it never fails to make simon melt.

“yeah? what’s up, buddy?”

simon pretended that no one was watching the interaction.

yasha giggled, hiding his food-smeared lips behind his little palms, before turning to use garrick’s front to hide from simon. you snorted, murmuring to kyle how you swear you would wash his shirt before they go, but it’s all buzz to simon because his son — his darling boy — wanted to play with him during dinner.

yasha peeked at him again, before giggling once more when he caught simon’s eyes. this continued on until dinner ended, with simon occasionally miming growling monsters to induce more hearty giggles from his son, and being rewarded with the happiest laughter ever.

simon turned to you, with his heart on his throat, and beamed.

“aww,” mactavish sang from somewhere beside him. “ain’t that adorable— argh!”

simon had swung his arm out and thumped his fist on johnny’s stomach. thank god, yasha had chosen that time to hide his face again on kyle’s stomach.

.

“unca’ john?” yasha asks in a stage-whisper because everyone within earshot just heard him even with his attempt to be quiet. it’s only their training that stopped simon from acting like he’s noticed.

“yeah, bubsy?” john replies, sounding so utterly soft that this version of him is so foreign to simon.

“this tory,” yasha says and simon discreetly peeks to see which toly is being introduced to uncle john — it’s the elephant one.

price gasps theatrically like he hadn’t seen yasha drool all over this elephant toy before, and puffs out, “how cute!”

“mhmm,” yasha says, nodding, then smacks the face of the toy on john’s face. the trunk smooshes against john’s nose, and thank god that elephant-tory is soft because that aim would have been lethal if it wasn’t.

“jesus—” price gasps out.

“language!” simon hisses, and ducks his head back down just before yasha could catch him peeking.

.

yasha is now four and he still gets teary eyed when he sees johnny. simon placates his friend and says it’ll pass soon. maybe.

basically, i wanted to write a fic wherein simon’s reaction to being presented with a child is “what— oh okay, sure why not” and (literally in 20 minutes) “i will kill everything for this child” and so here we are

a simon spinoff - it takes a rampage (to be a dad)

[navybrat817]

Birthday Wish

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky doesn't want to make a big deal out of his birthday, but you want to make it special.

Word Count: Over 2.3k

Warnings: Mutual crush, confessions, humor, light angst, fluff, reference to Bucky's past, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: Happy birthday to Bucky and this is my first submission for @avengers-assemble-bingo (Card 4B 020 - Square 2 - Birthday Boy). ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky didn’t care to celebrate his birthday. What was there worth celebrating? It was just another day like any other, another year that he got older. Even then, his looks didn’t match his current age. It was strange to look in the mirror and have the appearance of someone so much younger when he was born in 1917. He should’ve been old.

He should’ve left this world a long time ago.

While he was thankful for Steve and his other friends, he did feel a pang in his heart when he thought of his family. The last birthday he got to celebrate with his mom and sisters was before he got shipped off to war. Since then, there were no homemade cakes, no happy singing and jokes about him getting older, no candles to blow out and make a wish.

What would he even wish for today?

“Maybe we can all go out to dinner,” Steve suggested when he brought up Bucky’s birthday. “That could be fun, right?”

He felt bad shrugging in response since his best friend was trying to help him celebrate. “Maybe.”

“Dinner? Jesus, you two really are old men,” Tony commented, typing something into his phone. “Say the word and I’ll throw you a party. Best party you’ve ever had. You can thank me later.”

Bucky didn’t mean to give Tony a grumpy look, but parties were the billionaire’s thing. And while he didn’t mind having the spotlight on him as a younger man, it seemed foreign to him now. “My birthday is tomorrow, which gives you no time to plan a party, and I think I’m good.”

“I’m insulted that you would underestimate me and my connections,” Tony argued.

“No party,” Bucky said. He didn’t want one.

“What do you want to do then?” Sam asked.

Bucky’s brows pinched together. He didn’t really know. “My birthday isn’t a big deal, so I don’t want to make a big deal out of it,” he replied. Something low-key and not the least bit stressful would be nice. “I guess if I had to choose something, I’d like to read a new book and have a piece of chocolate cake with chocolate frosting.”

The guys stared at him, and he waited for Tony to laugh or make another “old man” comment. He didn’t care. It was his birthday they were asking about, so shouldn’t he get to choose what he wanted to do?

“I think that’s really sweet. And chocolate cake with chocolate frosting is delicious.”

Turning toward the soft voice, a smile touched Bucky’s lips and his heart fluttered when he saw you smiling back. The newest member of the team, you always had words of encouragement or a soft smile for him. As kind as you were, you could also kick ass and give Natasha a run for her money. To say he had a bit of a crush on you was an understatement.

“Thanks, doll,” he whispered.

You ducked your head with a giggle before you cleared your throat, making his smile widen. When he let his mind wander he liked to imagine you whimpering or sighing when he whispered that in your ear. If you only knew the things he thought about you, both naughty and nice.

“‘Doll’?” Tony groaned and shook his head. “Barnes, we really need to acclimate you to the modern world because no one with any sense calls anyone ‘doll’.”

His jaw clenched and color rose to his cheeks. Maybe it was a bit old-fashioned, but he liked it and he thought you liked it, too. But if it bothered you…

“You can call me ‘doll’, Bucky,” you assured him. “I don’t mind.”

Bucky could’ve used the opportunity to say something charming or sweet, but he kept the words in his head and gave you a grunt and a nod instead. A fucking grunt and a nod. What the hell was wrong with him? He might as well have given you a high-five and called you “buddy”.

“Okay,” you drew the word out slowly. “I’ll see you guys later!”

While Bucky watched you leave the room, the guys once again stared at him. “Not a fucking word,” he growled when Tony opened his mouth, heading out himself. He didn’t want their pity or their jokes.

With his exceptional hearing, he stopped when Tony muttered, “Tin Man better step up his game because that was painful to watch.”

“I’m old, not dead. I have game,” he mumbled. Well, he used to have game. Times were different now, and so was he. Still, his heart skipped a beat at the thought of you liking him, and maybe he could step up and take a chance.

“Be nice, Tony,” Steve sighed.

“I’ll be nice when he grows a pair and makes a move. Look, we all have eyes and we see how she looks at him.” Bucky felt butterflies in his stomach before Tony continued. “And she’s a stunning creature. Someone will snag her if he doesn’t.”

Bucky clenched his gloved fists. “Lay off the guy,” Sam said. “He’ll make a move when he’s ready.”

“Tomorrow,” Bucky whispered, walking away, determined. He would make a move tomorrow. It would either be the best birthday he could remember or he’d lick his wounds alone in his room and hope you’d still be his friend.

But as luck would have it, he didn’t get to talk to you the next morning.

He swore he saw you rush out of the kitchen with something in hand, but Steve stopped him to wish him a happy birthday. Everyone greeted him throughout the morning with various messages ranging from nice to references of his age. They all made it a point to say something, but he hadn’t seen you at all. Well, he hadn’t seen you or-

“Happy year of birth, Barnes!” Thor shouted. Bucky’s reflexes couldn’t stop the handful of confetti from hitting his face. “Let us celebrate, my friend!”

Bucky spit a piece of confetti out and tried to wipe away the remainder that landed on his face and shirt. “Thanks?”

The god of thunder looked him over. “Wasn’t your hair longer yesterday?” he asked, inhaling when Bucky ran a hand through it. “And are you wearing cologne? Is it for the party?”

“Maybe,” he said under his breath. He had trimmed his hair a bit and spritzed some cologne in the hopes of getting your attention if he bumped into you. It was stupid. “Party? What are you-”

He tensed up for a second when Thor threw an arm over his shoulders. “Stark said you didn’t want a party and I believe it’s meant to be a surprise, so don’t tell him I told you,” he said. Bucky almost snarled. He didn’t want a party. And how the hell did Tony put something together at the last second? “He also planned for it to be earlier in the day because he said you are old and wouldn’t want to stay up late. The man is-”

“Bucky!” you called out from down the hall, making him relax. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks, doll,” he smiled, happy to finally see you.

“I like your haircut,” you said, gliding across the floor to where they stood and commanding the presence of anyone who looked your way. “It looks great.”

Bucky puffed his chest out, glad that you noticed and liked it. “Thanks, doll.”

“You got…” You smiled and wiped the remainder of confetti from his chest, his heart rate picking up. “Thor, I’m so sorry, but I have to steal Bucky away for a bit. You don’t mind, do you?”

Thor humbly bowed to you, your doe eyed expression getting the blonde to easily bend to your will. Bucky’s hands flexed and for a moment he felt jealous before he remembered Thor wasn’t romantically interested in you. “Not at all. I shall take my leave.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, linking your arm with Bucky’s and gently pulling him away. “Mmm. You smell good, too.”

Bucky hid a smile. “Thanks again,” he said, happy that he made the call to wear it. “Hey, Tony isn’t really throwing me a party, is he?”

You winced. “Yeah, he’s throwing something,” you confirmed. Bucky was going to have a chat with him later. “I tried to talk him out of it, but he didn’t listen to me.”

“I appreciate you trying,” he said, pulling you closer to his side. It meant a lot.

“Which is why I wanted to steal you away for a bit so you could have some peace and quiet.”

You guided him to the tower library which was one of his favorite areas. When he wasn’t training or hanging out in his room, he was usually there. “What is that?” he asked when he saw the CLOSED FOR MAINTENANCE sign on the doors.

“Oh, I did that so no one would come in,” you winked, opening the doors so he could go inside. “Tada! Happy birthday!”

Bucky’s mouth fell open when he saw the small set up in the corner. There was a book with a bow sitting on the chair and a piece of chocolate cake with chocolate frosting with a single candle on the table beside it. “Did you… Did you do this for me?” he asked, his chest getting tight. It was exactly what he asked for.

“Yeah. You said you didn’t want to make a big deal out of your birthday, and I thought you deserved to have the kind of birthday you wanted. So, a slice of cake and a new book it is,” you smiled, a bounce in your step when you went to light the candle for him. “But I may have gotten you one more thing.”

“And what’s that?” he asked. You had already gone above and beyond for him. There was nothing you needed to get him.

“Tickets to the new science exhibit that’s opening this weekend.”

His chest felt tight again. He mentioned to you in passing that he wanted to go to the museum to see the new science exhibit. His love of science was something that hadn’t died, but hadn’t gotten around to buying tickets yet. You really paid attention to him and cared, didn’t you?

Your smile faltered just a bit when he kept staring. “I hope it’s okay that I did that. I really wanted you to have a nice birthday and you mean a lot to me and…” you trailed off as if you didn’t mean to say that.

God, he wanted you to mean it.

“It’s more than okay, thank you,” he swallowed, making his way over to you. “And did you say I mean a lot to you?” he asked because he had to hear you say it again.

You bit your lip and he wanted to bite your lip, too. “Yeah, you do.”

Hearing that was one of the best birthday gifts you could give him. “You mean a lot to me, too,” he confessed. You meant everything. “You’re amazing, do you know that?”

There was that giggle again that he loved. “Oh, I’m not, but thank you.”

“Yes, you are,” he whispered. You were the most amazing woman he knew. “I think that candle’s about to go out.”

The flame glowed in your eyes when you held up the plate and he felt lost in the best way. “Then you better make a wish.”

A charming smile crossed his face. “I can’t blow out my candle until someone sings ‘Happy Birthday’,” he teased.

Bucky expected you to protest when you opened your mouth. “Happy birthday to you.” He exhaled as you sang, your smoothe tone sending tingles down to his toes. “Happy birthday to you.”

Taking a step closer he placed a hand on your hip, your voice turning a bit breathy. It was beautiful. Everything about you was beautiful. He didn’t think he could fall any harder for you, but he was falling more and more each day.

“Happy birthday, dear Bucky…” You peered at him through your lashes. Looking back at you, he felt like he had something worth celebrating. “Happy birthday to you.”

With a gentle breath he blew the candle out and took the plate from your hands with ease. He heard both of your hearts beating faster, and he saw hope in your eyes. He gazed back at you, silently asking for permission. He wanted to kiss you, wanted you to be his girl.

Bucky wanted his birthday wish to come true.

“Doll…” he breathed.

It wasn’t until you nodded that he closed the distance and pressed his lips to yours. He took his time, savoring the feel of your mouths together. It was perfect, a moment he’d never forget.

“Wow,” you whispered when he pulled away. “That was amazing.”

“Yeah?” he smiled.

“Yeah,” you smiled back. “And I’m thankful it was a kiss you gave me instead of a grunt and a nod.”

Bucky laughed. “I can still give you a grunt and a nod,” he teased, touching your warm cheek. “And you know, since it’s my birthday and you said I should celebrate how I want, I think it’s only fair that I get 108 kisses.”

“Sergeant Barnes, are you really asking me for 108 kisses?”

“To start,” he smirked. “And it’s a good excuse to skip the party,” he added, going back in for another when you giggled.

He’d ask you after to stay with him while he read and shared the piece of cake. You’d tell him that you made it from scratch and hurried out of the kitchen so the gang wouldn’t eat it. He’d explain that he cut his hair and put on cologne for you in the hopes of attracting your attention which you told him he already had. And before the night was over, he’d ask you to go to the exhibit with him and to be his girl.

A birthday wish come true.

Have I told you lovelies how much I appreciate you? Because I do. Happy birthday, Bucky Barnes! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Simon making it clear that you are the only one he wants

“You alright, sweetheart?” Simon’s deep, gruff voice hit your ears, pulling your out of your thoughts. 

You nodded without a sound, subtly trying to divert your gaze so that he wouldn’t look into your eyes and see all the emotion swimming inside, but at this point you really didn’t need to answer the question. The way you sit across from him with your brow furrowed into two steep peaks and your shoulders slumped forward and tight as you idly picked at the skin around your fingernails was enough of a sign. Even though you tried to dismiss him with a few muttered “I’m fine” and “It’s nothing” phrases, the man knew; whatever it was had been eating away at you for some time. 

Turning his full attention to you he took your chin into his coarse grasp and tilted your head upward until your eyes met. “Then why can’t ya even look at me?” he posed his next question. 

You let out a sigh, nowhere to run now as Simon wasn’t gonna let you back out. “It’s just…silly...” 

An incident had been on your mind for a week now, something that should have been resolved already, but try as you might to let it go it just couldn’t be shaken. A new younger female recruit had got it into her head that she wanted a piece of the huge, mysterious Lieutenant and began to flaunt that young, supple body in his direction. Simon had not allowed it to continue for even a second after that initial encounter, making sure that you knew everything in detail, and immediately she was reprimanded and reassigned, but the damage had been done to your confidence.

Were you really right for him? Were you enough? You had never really thought of yourself as ugly, but when pitted up against some pretty thing that had the freshness of young beauty on her side, you weren’t so sure if you could really compare and that made your usual abundance of self-confidence drop to nearly zero. 

Amber eyes gazed back at you as Simon waited patiently for your reply. Taking a deep, calming breath you continued. “I guess I just can’t help but wonder if you made the right choice,” you said.

“And what choice is that, hmm?” he pushed, letting you use your words even though he was sure where this was headed.

“Choosing me,” you said so softly it was barely above a whisper.

Just as he suspected, it was still bothering you and he kicked himself for not doing more before now to show you that there was no one on base or even in the whole fucking world that could compare to what he had with you. There was no one up until now that had ever kept him so tightly wound as you did that he constantly felt like he couldn't get you out of his head, that he never could get enough of you; it was a constant struggle just to keep sane so that he could do his job when he knew what would be waiting for him when he got home.

That’s why it took nothing for him to know exactly what it was that he needed to do now.

Without a word the grip on your chin was released as Simon stood to his feet. He reached down and took a hold of your hand, giving it a good, solid tug. “Come on,” he beckoned with a nod of his head to stand with him and through a bit of stubborn reluctance, you followed.

As soon as you were on your feet he pulled you into his hard, warm chest, leaning his head in close until you could feel his breath against your lips. “Of all the fuckin' mistakes I've made in my life, ya ain't one of 'em. I think someone needs a bit of extra attention, and I was a fuckin' fool waitin' till now to give it to her,” he murmured, his voice lowering into that register that always sent shivers down your spine. “Let me take care of ya, let me turn that brain of yours off for a bit and show ya how sure I am that I made the right choice.”

Before you could answer, his lips had already connected with your own to steal the words right out of your mouth. If there was one thing that experienced military man was superior at it was making you come apart at the seams like it was his fucking job. And boy did he take pride in his work.

But right here and now he would be even more meticulous in his affections as it was clear you needed to be reminded that you and only you were the best goddamn thing to grace his miserable existence. All of his undivided attention would be yours tonight and he would not stop until every single worry had left that pretty little head.

Promises were breathed into your mouth by him. "I'm not stoppin' until ya know just how fuckin' much I don't want anyone else besides ya."

In a flurry of lips and tangled limbs, you found your way over to the bed. Like a surgeon performing a delicate operation, he carefully removed each article of your clothing one by one, making sure that the exposed skin was immediately caressed and attended to before he moved on to the next. Every inch of skin on you would feel the passion in his embrace. By the time you hit the mattress’ surface, your body was already a tingling mess of nerve ends bursting to life in ways that made your mind numb.

The lights had been turned down low, their soft incandescent glow warm and inviting as the breathy sounds of unspoken desires from a man consumed filled the air. It was hard to think of anything as the thick tension permeated the space while you lay there naked sprawled out across the sheets with Simon at your side. Adoration was what he was after tonight, needing you to be left as nothing more than a puddle of pure bliss in the middle of his bed.

Toughened fingers traced all of those subtle imperfections lining your body with such tenderness as if each scar and blemish and indention were incredibly precious to him; his lips followed not far behind as he whispered praises into your skin. Those gentle words that were only for your ears alone as he couldn’t have people thinking he was going soft…even though he absolutely had been since the moment he got with you.

“How could ya ever think I would want anythin’ other than this, other than ya?" he breathed the question into the skin of your torso. “You're all I could ever want, all I fuckin’ think about; the best goddamn thing to ever happen to me. My pretty girl.” 

His nose nuzzled against the crook of your neck and he caught that scent: the smell of your body’s natural musk that just one whiff of could make his head fuzzy and his body tingle in a way he could not describe. All those beautifully fragrant notes that combined together to create a profile that was distinct to you so that even if he couldn’t see you he knew you were near. Closing his eyes, he breathed you in deep.

“Christ, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful, sweetheart,” he purred into the warm skin of your shoulder before he was on the move, lips caressing over the swell of your breasts with nipples already stiff. “I just can’t ever get enough of ya. How could ya ever fuckin' think I'd give up all this for some young tart who'd get sick 'a me sooner rather than later? Fuck, you’re all I want, all I'll eva fuckin' need.”

Down, down, down he continued over the length of your stomach towards your thighs. It was like performing a sacred act, him giving you the full breadth of his overwhelming desire as he made his way from your lips to your legs, getting everything in between. He shot a hungry glance back up at you as he reached those pillowy creations that he loved so much.

He sighed. "Every inch of ya is like a goddamn dream."

Extra time he spent on your thighs as he embraced those voluptuous curves over and over again with his mouth, kissing and sucking, running his nose along them until you were whining and writhing beneath him. Shit, he had not even touched anywhere near your throbbing clit yet and still you could not stop the way your heart pounded out of your chest or your short, sticcatoed breathing that filled the silence. 

“Please,” the plea fell from your open mouth, but there was no need to beg. This was your night after all and he was not about to deny you of anything.

"Whatever my pretty girl wants she's gonna fuckin' get," he smiled. "Always."

Slowly Simon’s large hands spread you open just wide enough that he could lean his face into your mossy bank. More delicate kisses were dotted over your petals, his mouth embracing all around that tender slit before his tongue gently slipped inside the folds. All that doting on your body had done it’s job in stimulating so that he was met with a wetness on his tongue as he dived in. 

Shit were you sweet, like eating a peach except this one would not run out before he had gotten his fill. 

That masterful tongue drew short, concise circles around your clit, lips locking around the bud intermittently to suck, using the two techniques in tandem while his nails drug lightly over your thighs until your were bucking against his face. There was no rush in his movements; he was going to take his time in drawing out your pleasure. 

You couldn’t make a sound, your mind consumed completely with every flick of his tongue, every press of it firmly against you, every pass of his hands over your thighs; overstimulated doesn’t even begin to describe it. Eyes closed, mouth wide open, desperate music being moaned into the room was all you could muster as he brought you closer and closer to the precipice of your pleasure. 

Leisurely Simon lapped at your clit, no rush, no hurry, with measured strokes that eased you pleasantly into your orgasm instead of violently throwing you over. You came so effortlessly that you are able to ride out that wave of ecstasy for minutes as his pace stayed at that steady rhythm until there was no more left for you to give. Only then did he emerge like a man baptized anew. 

By the time he finally thrust inside you, you were a glorious mess of sweat and mewls and cum. He took you right on your back, needing to see that look in your eyes that made him feel like he was your whole world. No muscle-straining positions will he put you in tonight as all he wants is to gaze down at the most beautiful creature he’s ever laid eyes on. 

“Do ya think I have any doubts now?” he asked with a muted smile. "Think I could do this with just anyone?"

Your cheeks, already warm and pink, flushed bright crimson. “No,” you shook your head.

“That's a good girl,” he praised as he adjusted your legs to be comfortable around his thick torso. “Then let’s finish this off right, yeah? You and me, sweetheart.”

Slow, even thrusts he pounded into you, stretching you and filling you full even at this angle, as he met your lips again to nearly choke you on all his passion. You could taste yourself on his breath as he claimed you body and soul. 

“Ya feel so fuckin’ good, just wanna stay buried in ya all the time,” he groaned between precise thrusts through your tight, moist core. Your body was paradise and he could not get enough. Pulling back he watched the connection of your bodies right at the point where he slipped inside of you. You were so full of him there was no distinction between where he ended and you began.

Simon was never a religious man, most of the time as far from it as humanly possible, but the closest he would ever come to faith was the moment he got his first feel of all that glory that first time you two went at it. It was then that your body became his church and from then on he was more than ready to give his life to worshiping at your alter with his fingers and tongue and cock; any and all instruments at his disposal to show you his unwavering devotion. 

That man had been starved for far longer than he would like to admit, but the first time he buried himself in you that was all it took to fill him up. It was only you that he craved: your softness and warmth and light and no one else would ever do. As much as you were his, he was yours.

His hands ran up the sides of your torso, leaving burning trails that made you shiver as he palmed both of your breasts in each one of his hands to massage the flesh. “I want ya to come for me again,” he said, more need in his voice. “Can ya do that for me pretty girl?”

Rapidly you nodded your head up and down as you focused on what was coming.

“That’s it; wanna be sure my girl gets everything she needs to stay satisfied with me.”

There was a feeling of safety and security that you got when you were with him; no matter how rough or passionate the sex got, Simon was always right there with you in the moment so that you never felt that it was one sided. Right now that feeling spread through you along with the gathering warmth in your abdomen to help you get out of your head and let go. All those worries, all those fears, they left completely as he thrust inside you a few more times and you spilled over the edge once more.

He kissed you hard on the mouth, holding your raw lips together once more as he followed right after you. His shoulder shook as his released himself and fell into that high that he would never tire of- not when it was with you. As he let go of your lips, he smiled back down at you; that glow of ecstasy causing his heart to skip a beat.

“Ya see, there’s no one in this whole fuckin’ world I want more than ya, sweetheart,” he whispered into your temple before placed a quick kiss. “And I am always willin’ to show ya that you are the only girl for me.”

[dolche-tejada]

You know, I think this ending would have been slightly less of a fucking disappointment if the heroes hadn't been so unfairly favored by Horikoshi compared to the villains. I mean, seriously

Deku destroys every bone in his body multiple times throughout the story and is warned that if he continues, he'll permanently lose the use of his limbs ? Everything's fine, his body's just got used to being reduced to a bloody pulp somehow so there's no consequences for him. In fact even when he literally loses his arms to Shigaraki, he gets them back two minutes later thanks to Eri because guess what ? Her horn still works even when cut off from her body. How convenient.

Gran Torino gets his ribcage obliterated by Shigaraki ? Don't worry guys, he'll survive that despite his old age and injuries, and this to have no particular role in the plot afterwards.

Bakugo dies heroically trying to buy time before Deku arrives ? Lmao, did you really believe it ?? No of course not, Edgeshot just uses his last-minute Deus Ex Machina to save his life at the cost of his own and- Oops nope he's fine too, my bad !

Hawks murders a criminal fleeing for his life in cold-blood ? The best Hori has to offer is him completely free and in charge of the HSPC.

And no, losing his quirk isn't a real consequence for him because not only it literally played a major part in saving the world with Vestige!Hawks raising an insurrection among AFO's quirks, but also because his quirk has always been the element through which people exploited him.

Endeavor abused his family for years and completely destroyed his eldest son ? No jail time and no media backlash for that, the only blame he received was due to the heroes' failure to stop the League during the Raid Arc.

And don't even get me started on this bs about facing hell or whatever for what he's done : He's literally free and wealthy ; he has Rei, Fuyumi, Shoto, his sidekicks and Hawks on his side ; and all the difficulties he's apparently going to suffer are off-screened.

Deku had to sacrifice OFA and his future hero career to save the world ? Guess what, Bakugo invested all his time and money to make him an Iron-Man suit and now he can still be a hero with everyone else.

There are plenty more examples of this but I think you get the idea. Now let's take a look at the villains' ending :

Toya is now a piece of charcoal kept artificially alive for the few years he has left, unable to move a finger, and whose few minutes a day during which he can stay awake will be spent talking to his father who abused him as a child.

Toga, a literal teenager, killed herself to save Ochako and because she knew it's still better than rotting at Tartarus her whole life.

And not only did she die but she did by bleding to death. Let me repeat for those who have trouble grasping what I've just said : In a manga where the heroes can survive having their heart blown to bits, being impaled Kakyoin-style or smashed against buildings like a fly on a windshield, one of the main antagonists died of a fucking hemorrhage…

As for Shigaraki, after learning that his very birth and all the tragedies of his life have been orchestrated by AFO, after all this development and narrative promises about him being saved in the end... Deku just kills him.

Because despite all his speeches about saving him, it seems like the best our MC could do was beating him both physically and mentally until he crumbles to dust…

Compress on his side is apparently locked up for life and kept alive by machines too.

A begging Kurogiri tried in a desperate attempt to save Shigaraki, only to be unceremoniously blown up by Bakugo and dying off-screen without anyone giving a shit, including Aizawa and Mic.

And Spinner will now spend the rest of his life struggling with the extra quirks inside him that affect his body and mind, while having to cope with the thought that his boyfriend best friend and companions have either died alone or are locked away for life in horrifying circumstances.

Clearly not the same as with the heroes...

Now don't get me wrong, even if they suffered just as much from the consequences of their actions or the plot as the League, this ending would still be a disaster in terms of writing but AT LEAST it wouldn't reek that much of hypocrisy.

[kayewrite]

At the same time, I wanna hug you

(...I wanna wrap my hands around your neck)

seungmin x reader!! enemies to lovers troupe!! genre; fluff. word count: 10.7k (long but still not enough)

summary; if you have teleportation powers you would bring seungmin in the middle of ocean and dump him there. that's how much you hated him. but wait.. why he was suddenly cool?

an: you dont know how much i went crazy seeing seungmin in uniform! like babe! why are my classmate not like him? and.. this was a birthday present cause this man just turn half 50 minus 1!! anyways enjoy reading

Kim Seungmin.

You hated that very name.

You hated his existence.

You hated his smirk.

You hated that he breathes.

You hated how he never failed to make your blood boil.

Like now.

You were practically crawling into the classroom, late again, knowing full well the teacher wasn’t going to let it slide this time. Slowly and quietly, you slipped through the back door, hoping to go unnoticed, but your hopes were dashed when Kim Seungmin turned in his seat and caught your eye. His face slowly morphed into that all-too-familiar smirk.

You already knew your fate.

"Ma'am, someone’s late again."

You clenched your fists, resisting the urge to punch him as the teacher ordered you to stand and endure a scolding. You stood there, bowing your head like a guilty child while Seungmin chuckled at your misery.

You hated him. You hated him so much you wished for teleportation powers—just so you could dump him in the middle of the Pacific Ocean and teleport back home.

The worst part? You were seatmates. In the one subject that made you contemplate dropping the class every week just to escape him. But no, you wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. You’d endure, just so he wouldn’t win.

"Why were you late again?" he leaned over, asking in the most casual, condescending way possible.

“None of your business,” you rolled your eyes and shifted your chair further away from him.

“Actually, it is my business.” He smirked again, lifting the attendance sheet. “I’m in charge of marking who’s here today, and guess what? I don’t see your name yet. Got a good excuse for me?”

Damn.

You glared at him, wishing your stare could send him straight to the hospital. “I hate you.”

“Oh, I love you too,” he teased, laughing at your frustration.

--

You were minding your own business, erasing the board, when out of nowhere, a crumpled piece of paper hit you square on the head. Annoyed, you turned sharply, searching for the culprit. Your eyes quickly landed on Kim Seungmin, who very obviously averted his gaze and started whistling—like that wasn’t the biggest giveaway ever.

Glaring at him, you felt your temper rise. Without thinking twice, you grabbed the nearest weapon of choice—the chalkboard eraser—and hurled it with full force.

"Hey—!" Seungmin barely had time to react, his hands flying up to shield himself. The eraser still hit him, sending a cloud of chalk dust everywhere.

Minutes later, there he was, sitting in the clinic, sulking like he’d been gravely injured. You stood over him, arms crossed, rolling your eyes at the ridiculous situation.

“You’re such a kid,” you teased, watching as he winced dramatically. “Crying over a tiny little scratch.”

He glared at you, clutching his arm like he’d survived a battle. “Tiny? You nearly broke my arm!”

You smirked, “If I wanted to break your arm, Seungmin, I wouldn’t have used an eraser.”

You and Seungmin fought like kids, constantly bickering and annoying each other to the point where even your classmates didn’t bother stepping in anymore. They’d seen you two nearly throw punches at each other too many times to care.

One day in the cafeteria, you were finally enjoying a moment of peace, savoring your lunch, when Seungmin suddenly plopped down in front of you. He smiled, but there was something odd about it. Well, Seungmin was always odd, but this felt extra weird. He wasn’t even touching his food; he just sat there, staring at you.

"What are you looking at, ugly?" you asked, scowling.

He leaned back casually. "My friends are coming, and we're sitting at this table. It’s up to you if you wanna leave or not."

You blinked, taken aback. "What?! I got here first!"

"Yeah, well," he shrugged nonchalantly, "I don’t care."

Before you could argue further, the cafeteria exploded with noise. His friends had arrived—there was no mistaking it. They were loud, famous, and had an almost cult-like following at school. You could practically hear the high-pitched squeals from the “fandom” as they entered. Without even turning around, you knew it was them.

Your frustration mounted as they surrounded the table, chattering loudly. You weren’t exactly fond of crowds, for that matter. Sitting there, sandwiched between Seungmin and his friends, you felt like a deer caught in headlights.

Hyunjin—yes, that Hyunjin—suddenly leaned over, flashing a bright smile. "Hey, what’s your name?"

You nearly choked on your food. Of course, the universe had to pick this moment to be cruel. Before you could respond, Seungmin cut in with a smug grin.

"She’s no one. Don’t mind her," he said, not even sparing you a glance.

Your face flushed with embarrassment and annoyance. You stood up abruptly, knocking over your chair. "I’ve suddenly lost my appetite," you muttered awkwardly before storming off, desperately trying to escape the humiliation.

Why does this always happen to me? you groaned internally. I hate Seungmin. And I hate myself for embarrassing myself in front of my crush… Hyunjin.

If I see that KIM SEUNGMIN later, I’m going to kill him.

Later in class, your chance for revenge came. Seungmin was called on for an oral recitation, and—poetic justice—he stood there, stuttering and completely clueless. You couldn’t help but laugh under your breath as he floundered, finally getting a taste of the embarrassment he loved dishing out.

Justice had never tasted so sweet.

---

"I hope lightning strikes him," you muttered, glaring at Seungmin from a distance as you hugged yourself, shivering from the cold. You were stuck in a waiting shed, the afternoon bringing with it a torrential downpour that looked like the start of a typhoon. The weather had been perfect this morning—sunny, with not a cloud in sight. You'd made the mistake of leaving your umbrella at home, thinking it would only weigh down your bag. Now, you regretted every bit of that decision.

Across the street, Seungmin stood dry under his big, obnoxiously bright umbrella, almost laughing as he caught sight of you. His smug grin was practically glowing, and as if to rub salt in the wound, he waved at you.

You flipped him the finger.

‘When will his time come?’ you wondered bitterly. Why am I always the one who ends up miserable?

The shed's roof was doing a terrible job of keeping the rain out. Water dripped from all angles, splashing around you and soaking your clothes. You glanced up at the leaky ceiling and groaned. When will this stop? you thought—both about the rain and Seungmin.

If the two of you were friends, and if he weren’t the spawn of Lucifer himself, you might’ve swallowed your pride and asked to share his umbrella. Your house was literally just a block away. But no! You would not—under any circumstances—lower yourself to envy his dry, smug self.

You would never give him the satisfaction. Even if it meant sitting here the whole night, soaked and miserable.

Seungmin started walking toward you, his big umbrella swaying with each step. He stopped in front of you with the most annoyingly sarcastic smile.

"You wanna share?" he asked, eyes twinkling with amusement.

You rolled your eyes. "No thanks."

"You sure? The news said the rain’s stopping… tomorrow."

"Even if it never stops for a whole week, Kim Seungmin, I would never!" you snapped, glaring at him.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying your misery. "You sure? Last chance."

"Yes!" you practically shouted, arms crossed in defiance.

"Okay." He shrugged, stepping back. "One word is enough for me."

And with that, he turned on his heel and continued on his way, leaving you alone in the rain.

"I won’t regret it!" you yelled after him, though your voice sounded far less confident than before.

Ten minutes later, you were drenched and shivering, cursing under your breath. Regret started to creep in. You glanced down the road—completely empty. Not a single taxi in sight.

"Where are all the taxis when I need them?" you groaned, looking up at the dark, stormy sky.

And so, your day ended just as it began: with Seungmin somehow managing to ruin it.

--

It was Friday, and your first class of the day happened to be the one where your seatmate was none other than him.

Determined not to be late, you arrived twenty minutes early. The classroom was nearly empty, with only a handful of students scattered around. Feeling groggy, you slumped over your desk, letting the quiet atmosphere lull you into a light nap.

Of course, peace never lasted long when Seungmin was involved.

A sharp knock on your desk pulled you from the brink of sleep. You cracked one eye open to see Seungmin settling into the seat beside you, a smug grin already plastered on his face.

"Oh, you’re early today. Were you looking forward to sitting next to me?" he teased, leaning back comfortably as if he hadn't just ruined your peaceful moment.

"It’s still early, Kim Seungmin," you muttered, closing your eyes again. Not today, you thought. You weren’t going to let him ruin your morning. Not this early.

He glanced at his watch with a chuckle. "Well, it’s 10 a.m., and that’s not exactly early, is it?"

"Seungmin, if you’re bored and looking to annoy someone, talk to my hand." Without even opening your eyes, you lazily raised your hand in his direction, palm out.

Just then, Yuna, who sat in front of you, arrived. She took one look at the two of you, eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Why are you guys always fighting the moment you see each other?"

You opened one eye, giving her a pleading look. "Can you please let him annoy you instead?"

Yuna just laughed. "Oh, Seungmin wouldn’t annoy anyone else but you." She gave you a knowing smile. "He likes you."

Your eyes shot open at her words, and you squinted at Seungmin, who was now smirking as if he knew exactly how to get under your skin. "Yeah, likes to annoy me," you huffed, narrowing your eyes in suspicion.

Seungmin shrugged, leaning in a little closer just to provoke you. "Well, yeah, I like it sooo much," he laughed, clearly amused by your reaction.

Yuna, now used to your bickering, just shrugged and turned her attention to the front of the classroom, leaving you to deal with him.

You let out a sigh, hoping that Seungmin would leave you alone for at least a minute. "Is there any chance you’ll be quiet today?"

He pretended to think for a moment. "Hmm, nope."

You groaned, dropping your head back onto your desk. "Why do you even sit next to me?"

"Fate," he said casually, glancing over as if he hadn’t just said the most ridiculous thing ever.

You shot him a disbelieving look. "What?"

"It’s fate," he repeated with a smirk. "Out of all the seats in this entire classroom, I ended up next to you. Don’t you think that means something?"

"Yeah, it means I’m cursed."

He laughed, the sound annoyingly cheerful, and leaned in closer. "Maybe, or maybe you’re just lucky to have me next to you."

"Lucky isn’t the word I’d use."

Before he could respond, the classroom started filling up, and the teacher finally arrived. You sent a silent prayer of thanks, hoping class would be a break from Seungmin’s endless teasing.

“…you will do this assignment by pairs. To speed things up, partner with your seatmate.”

It was nothing new to be stuck with your enemy, but when you realized that the activity involved a short roleplay drama, you felt a surge of panic. Acting alongside him was nowhere on your bucket list of things to do—if you even had a bucket list.

“Maam, can I exchange my partner?” you raised your hand, desperation evident in your voice.

“Ouch, you hurt my feelings!” Seungmin clutched his chest dramatically, feigning offense.

“What’s wrong with your partner?” the teacher asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sometimes you wondered why everyone seemed to love this annoying dog sitting next to you.

With no choice left, you begrudgingly held the script with a scowl. When would you ever have a peaceful day in class? Why did you have to pretend to be in love with this guy?

“Come on, read your line!” Seungmin demanded, his annoyance bubbling over.

Of all the choices in your teacher's fishbowl, you’d drawn the romantic scene everyone praying not to get. You would have preferred a horror script over this.

“I don’t want to!” you protested, crossing your arms defiantly.

“Well, you have to! It’s your fault for picking it!” he shot back, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“I told you to pick it!” you replied, frustration mounting.

“And then I’d be the one to blame? We don’t have a choice but to do well.” He leaned back, crossing his arms smugly.

“Ugh! I hate you so much!” you exclaimed, slumping back in your seat.

“Well, you have to love me now.” He chuckled, clearly enjoying your misery.

“What did I do in my past life to deserve this?” You groaned, reading the lines again.

“Probably killed someone,” he quipped, shooting you a knowing look.

You glared at him, and he immediately raised his hands in mock surrender, laughing.

“Oh, apologies. Let’s practice! You don’t have a choice; it’s either fail or just accept it.”

“I hate you.”

“I accept it, Juliet.” He grinned, clearly relishing your frustration.

Thankfully, the teacher had given you a week to prepare, which meant you never took practicing seriously after that.

“We’ll practice tomorrow,” Seungmin stated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“I have something to do tomorrow,” you said nonchalantly, hoping to deter him.

“I have things too, but I want good grades, so you have to come.” He started packing his things away.

“Hey, Seungmin!” You both turned at the sound of his friend’s voice. It was Hyunjin, accompanied by Felix and Jisung. You straightened up, suddenly conscious of your appearance.

“Let’s go somewhere!” Jisung draped an arm around Seungmin’s shoulders.

“I have important things to do,” Seungmin replied, and Jisung pouted in response.

“Oh, it was you in the cafeteria the other day,” Hyunjin said, looking right at you. It took you a moment to process that he was talking to you.

“Um…” Your voice faltered. “Yes?”

Hyunjin smiled at you, and you felt your heart race.

“Guys, wait for me outside. You just sneaked into my classroom,” Seungmin laughed, and his friends complied, heading for the door.

You were still catching your breath from the interaction when Seungmin turned back, grinning at you. “So, Hyunjin is your crush?” he asked, his tone teasing.

Oh no! Seungmin had caught on!

“Of course, I’m not!” you blurted out, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Why are you saying ‘I’m not’ in such an awkward way?” He laughed, clearly enjoying this new revelation. “Then it is true!”

“Please don’t tell him!” You pleaded, realizing you were losing this battle.

“Of course I won’t…” He smiled coyly, “…I won’t do what you ask.” Then, with a laugh, he tossed his bag over his shoulder and dashed out the door.

“Oh, damn…” You froze in your seat, panic setting in.

“See you at practice tomorrow!” Seungmin waved annoyingly from the doorway, clearly aware that you had no choice but to comply.

As the door swung shut behind him, you sank back into your chair, contemplating your fate. Tomorrow was going to be a nightmare.

--

You arrived at his house and rang the doorbell repeatedly, knowing he would probably just hear it and take his sweet time.

“You’re late,” he said with a smug smile when he finally opened the gate.

“I’m not,” you insisted, holding your wrist up to show him your watch, the sleek silver face gleaming in the sunlight.

“You’re late by 58 seconds,” he replied, crossing his arms as if he were judging your punctuality.

“What?! It’s not my fault you opened your gate late!” You rolled your eyes, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

He chuckled at your annoyed expression, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “Come in.”

“Not like I have a choice,” you muttered, stepping inside.

It was your first time in his house, and you weren’t surprised by how nice it was. The exterior was already immaculate, and the inside was just as polished—walls adorned with family photos and art that hinted at a cozy atmosphere. But you would never admit that to him.

“My parents aren’t home; they have work,” he said, glancing around the living room as if to check for any potential chaos.

“No one asked,” you shot back, feeling a mix of annoyance and amusement.

“Just wanted to let you know in case you try to kill me; there’s a CCTV camera around,” he said, half-serious.

“Oh, great. Just what I need,” you replied dryly, shaking your head.

He headed to the kitchen, presumably to get something to drink, giving you a moment to explore. You took the chance to glance at the pictures displayed throughout the room. One photo caught your eye—him as a child, beaming with joy as he played in a park.

When he returned, you pointed to the picture near the TV. “Is that you?”

“Obviously,” he said, rolling his eyes, his tone laced with playful sarcasm.

You squinted at the picture, then turned to him, suddenly serious. “I mean… will there ever be a time for us to stop bickering, even just for a bit? I'm trying to start a normal conversation here”

“Will there be?” he countered, sitting beside you with a teasing grin, his body relaxed as he leaned back.

“Yeah, right. Never,” you replied, smirking despite yourself.

He handed you the printed script he’d prepared, the edges slightly crinkled. “Why are we putting so much effort into this? It’s just reading the script, not really acting it out.”

“Because I have a goal grade, unlike you,” he said matter-of-factly, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Have you forgotten I’m an achiever too?” you shot back, crossing your arms defiantly.

When would this bickering ever end?

“Hyunjin is coming,” he announced suddenly, the air in the room shifting.

“No one asked--” You paused, then asked, “Wait what?!”

“So you should behave if you don’t want to scare him off,” he added, the grin still plastered on his face.

“Seungmin, why would you do that?!” You lightly slapped him on the shoulder, half-exasperated, half-amused.

“Because… I can?” He laughed, shielding himself playfully. “I mean, what’s wrong with inviting a friend? He's good at acting he can help”

“I hate you so much,” you groaned, exasperation creeping into your tone.

Hyunjin had been your crush for as long as you could remember, and the thought of him being in the same space as you made your stomach flutter with nerves. He was perfect in every way—charismatic, charming, and completely out of your league.

“Why? What’s wrong?” Seungmin teased, leaning closer with that infuriating grin. “Oh, I forgot—you like him, right?”

You responded by giving him another light shove, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. It was always like this between you two—endless banter, lighthearted teasing, but the presence of Hyunjin added a layer of awkwardness you couldn’t quite shake.

You both settled onto the couch, the printed script between you. Seungmin glanced at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Okay, let’s get this over with. You read Juliet’s lines, and I’ll read Romeo’s,” he said, smirking.

“Fine, but don’t mess it up,” you replied, trying to maintain your composure.

You started reading through the script, your voice steady but laced with a hint of nervousness. “O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night like a rich jewel in an Ethiope’s ear.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes dramatically. “Wow, so poetic. Just make sure you don’t faint from all that romance.”

You shot him a glare. “Shut up, Romeo.”

Just then, the doorbell rang. Your heart raced. Hyunjin was here.

“See? You should behave,” Seungmin teased, nudging your shoulder.

You threw him a playful glare, then he rushed to open the door. There stood Hyunjin, looking effortlessly cool, his smile warm as he greeted you both. “Hey! Ready to practice?”

“Uh, yeah! Come in!” you said, trying to keep your cool but feeling the heat creep into your cheeks.

Seungmin sauntered over, clearly relishing the moment. “Hyunjin! Glad you could join us! We were just getting to the juicy parts.”

You shot him a warning look, hoping he wouldn’t embarrass you. Hyunjin, however, seemed unfazed. “Nice! I can help you both with the romantic scenes if you want.”

You nodded eagerly. “That would be great! I need help with… you know, acting like I’m in love.” You winced at how obvious that sounded.

Hyunjin grinned, moving to sit across from you. “Alright, let’s try a scene. Here’s the famous balcony part. Juliet says, ‘O, for a falconer’s voice to lure this tassel-gentle back again.’”

You felt your heart flutter. “I’ll try,” you said, taking a deep breath. “O, for a falconer’s voice to lure this tassel-gentle back again!”

Hyunjin smiled, then gestured for you to continue. “And then Romeo responds with, ‘I would not for the world they saw thee here.’”

Seungmin picked up the line, and you both began to read, the atmosphere shifting as you focused on the scene. You felt a playful energy in the air, the tension of performing lifting your spirits.

“‘I would not for the world they saw thee here,’” Seungmin said, his voice low and earnest.

You replied, “Then there’s no need to be ashamed,” trying to put as much emotion into it as possible.

Hyunjin clapped after your line. “That was great! You both looked really good together!”

You and Seungmin exchanged a quick look. “No!” you both said in unison.

Hyunjin chuckled, clearly entertained by your synchronized denial. “Really, it’s just acting! But seriously, you guys have good chemistry.”

“Thanks!” you said, feeling a mix of embarrassment and pride.

“Alright, let’s keep practicing!” Hyunjin suggested, eager to dive back into the script.

You focused on the lines, the playful banter keeping the atmosphere light. As you practiced, you couldn’t help but enjoy the moment, the camaraderie making the task feel less like a chore and more like fun.

With Hyunjin guiding you, you felt more confident as you delivered your lines, ready to tackle the performance together.

--

The days passed in a blur as you and Seungmin practiced again at his house. You settled into a routine, the playful banter punctuating your rehearsals, and surprisingly, you started to enjoy the time spent together.

Finally, the day of the presentation arrived. As you stood in front of the class, you felt a mix of nerves and excitement. When it was your turn to deliver your lines, you poured your heart into the performance, channeling every emotion.

To your surprise, Yuna leaned over after the presentation and whispered, “It wasn’t like you were entering each other’s nerves at all!” Her compliment made you beam with pride.

Seungmin, too, impressed you with his serious demeanor. For once, he seemed genuinely focused, and seeing him so dedicated made you realize how much he cared about doing well. You couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride for both of you.

After the applause died down, your teacher announced, “I’m pleased to inform you all that I have chosen actors for the upcoming school play, and I choose…” She paused dramatically, glancing between you and Seungmin, “…you two!”

A wave of excitement surged through you, quickly followed by a burst of playful competitiveness. “See? You should thank me for picking a role that suits us both,” you teased, nudging him playfully.

Seungmin raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Oh, I’m grateful, alright. I forgot for a moment how you despise your pick. In fact, I’m so happy I’m going to treat you to cake and coffee.”

“Yes!” you replied enthusiastically, unable to hide your grin. “I deserve a treat after all that hard work!”

“Sure, but only because I can’t let my scene partner go hungry,” he said, winking.

As you both headed out, the bickering continued, light-hearted and familiar, but beneath it was a shared joy that made the moment all the more special. You couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this experience was bringing you closer, even if you would never admit it.

At the café, the atmosphere buzzed with chatter and the rich aroma of coffee. You and Seungmin settled into a cozy corner, the tension from earlier melted away as you both began to chat more easily.

“So, do you actually love acting?” he asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Absolutely!” you replied, a grin spreading across your face. “I’ve always idolized Emma Watson. I mean, come on, I look just like her!” You struck a dramatic pose, fluttering your eyelashes.

Seungmin looked at you, clearly unconvinced, with a “Are you kidding me?” expression. You burst out laughing, the sound ringing through the café.

“Okay, maybe not exactly like her,” you admitted, trying to catch your breath. “But a girl can dream, right?”

“Sure, if dreaming means torturing the rest of us,” he shot back with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes. “Anyway, I’m planning to major in acting when I get to college. It’s my dream!”

“Nice! I like acting too, but I’m thinking about majoring in music,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

“Wait, you? You know how to sing?” You raised an eyebrow, unable to hide your skepticism.

“Wanna hear?” he challenged, a playful glint in his eye.

“Please no!” you teased, dramatically placing your hand on your heart. “I’d rather sleep forever than listen to your singing.”

Seungmin laughed, shaking his head. “You’re so mean! I think it would be the opposite”

“Mean? I’m just saving you from embarrassment,” you shot back with a grin. “You should thank me!”

"you'll regret what you're saying when I become famous."

As you exchanged playful banter, you realized that this was your way of connecting. The teasing and light insults had become second nature, and somehow, the hurtful words didn’t sting anymore. Instead, they felt like an essential part of your friendship, a comfortable rhythm that made you both laugh.

“Seriously though,” you said, softening a bit, “I think it’s awesome that you’re into music. We’ll be the dynamic duo of arts!”

“Absolutely! Just don’t expect me to duet with you anytime soon,” he joked, raising his cup in a mock toast.

“Deal!” you laughed, feeling lighter than you had in a long time.

--

As the practice for the play approached, your schedule became packed, leaving little time for anything else. Excitement bubbled inside you, especially since Hyunjin, a year ahead of you, was also in the cast. You could hardly wait for the next rehearsal.

One day, while waiting for practice to start, you found yourself lost in thought, staring at Hyunjin as he chatted with some friends. Seungmin, ever the observant one, caught you in the act.

“You look like a lovesick puppy,” he teased, a playful grin stretching across his face.

You quickly snapped out of your daydream, narrowing your eyes at him. “Shut up! I’m not!” You playfully punched his arm, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make your point.

“Uh-huh, sure,” he laughed, clearly enjoying your reaction.

“You’re just jealous that I’m not staring at you like that!”

As partners playing lovers in the play, you often imagined being paired with Hyunjin. But the teacher had chosen Seungmin, and surprisingly, it wasn’t as bad as you expected. You’d gotten used to the banter, and the awkwardness faded as practice continued.

Days passed, filled with rehearsals that drew you closer to Seungmin. The bickering remained, a constant source of amusement.

During one practice, while the two of you were warming up, Seungmin leaned over to Hyunjin, a mischievous smile on his face. “Hyunjin, have you already eaten? This monkey here asks,” he said, pointing at you as if you were some sort of pet.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help but laugh. “I am! Thank you for asking!” you replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Yeah, and she also said you were handsome,” Seungmin added, clearly enjoying the moment.

You felt your cheeks flush, and in a mock fit of outrage, you dashed toward him. “Seungmin!” you yelled, but he was quicker. He took off running, his laughter echoing through the practice room.

When you finally caught up to him, you wrapped your arms around his neck in a playful hug, making him squirm. “You’re such a tormentor!” you laughed, shaking him lightly.

From across the room, Hyunjin watched the whole scene unfold, a smile playing on his lips. “Are you sure they hate each other?” asked the director, who was shaking his head in disbelief.

Hyunjin just nodded, clearly entertained. “Definitely yes!” he replied, chuckling at your playful dynamic.

As you and Seungmin continued to tease each other, you realized that despite the playful bickering, there was an undeniable comfort between you—something that made every rehearsal just a little bit brighter.

---

The rain poured down in relentless sheets, and there you were, standing under a shed, glaring at the gray sky as if it were personally responsible for your soaked shoes. You had forgotten your umbrella—again.

As you waited, shivering slightly from the cold, you spotted Seungmin in the distance, standing confidently under a bright yellow umbrella. He was teasingly waving it over his head, a smirk plastered on his face as he called out, “Looks like someone forgot their umbrella again!”

You rolled your eyes and shot him a finger. “Very funny, Seungmin!”

He sauntered over, his grin widening with each step. "You wanna share?"

You rolled your eyes. "No thanks." you replied, crossing your arms defiantly.

“Okay, then. One word is enough for me.” He turned to leave, an exaggerated pout on his lips.

You hesitated for a moment, watching him walk away. “Wait!” you called out, and he turned back, an annoying smile in his lips. “Fine! We can share!”

Seungmin’s face broke into a triumphant grin as he rushed back to your side, positioning the umbrella over both of you. As you walked together, the atmosphere shifted from frustration to lightheartedness, laughter spilling out between the two of you.

“My shoulder is now wet,” Seungmin complained, feigning annoyance as he brushed water off his shirt.

“Is it my fault that you work out so much? Your shoulders are just too broad!” you shot back, unable to suppress a grin.

“Did you just compliment me?” he asked, his eyes lighting up with mischief.

“Ugh, it wasn’t a compliment!” you retorted, trying to keep a straight face.

“Then I’ll just have to embrace this wetness!” he said cheerfully, adjusting the umbrella with exaggerated flair. Before you knew it, he leaned closer, and water dripped off his shoulder, splashing onto you.

You burst into laughter, shoving him playfully. “You idiot!”

Seungmin laughed too, chasing after you as you dashed away, your heart racing with excitement. The rain seemed to fade into the background, the only sound being your giggles and the splatter of water against the pavement.

“You’re going to pay for that!” he yelled, laughter echoing through the downpour.

Just as you turned to look back, he splashed a wave of water right at you, soaking you completely. You retaliated, grabbing a handful of rainwater and splashing it back at him.

The playful battle raged on, and soon both of you were drenched, shivering yet exhilarated.

---

It was two weeks before the big play, and you were laser-focused on perfecting every detail. The pressure was on, and you found yourself spending more time practicing than ever. You wanted everything to be perfect, especially with the role you were playing. Seungmin, of course, was your partner in most scenes, so you had to rehearse together.

But as you delivered your lines, standing face-to-face with Seungmin, it became harder and harder to stay serious. Seungmin kept pulling funny faces behind his lines, causing you to break character and burst into laughter.

“Direct, please, punch him or something!” you whined dramatically, throwing your hands up. “He won’t stop!”

The director, seeing your exaggerated reaction, just chuckled. Meanwhile, the rest of the cast erupted in laughter.

"I’m serious now! I promise!" Seungmin said, shrugging off his antics.

You tried to continue, but the minute you looked at his serious face, you couldn’t hold back your laughter again. His deadpan expression was just too much.

“Okay, okay,” you said, wiping away a tear from laughing too hard. “Let’s take five. I need to compose myself.”

You sat down in the corner, still laughing. Seungmin joined you, shaking his head with a grin.

“Why are you always like this?” you asked, playfully slapping his arm. “We’re supposed to be professional!”

“Hey! I’m doing great! You’re the one laughing!” he protested with a smirk.

You couldn't deny it—something had shifted between you and Seungmin lately. There was this playful, easygoing dynamic now, and to your surprise, you liked it. You weren’t exactly sure when it happened, but the tension between the two of you had somehow dissolved, leaving behind a strange sort of camaraderie. And it felt... right.

---

Late again. You were quietly crawling your way toward your seat, praying that Seungmin wouldn’t notice. Maybe, just maybe, he’d be too preoccupied to see you sneaking in. But no such luck. Just as you thought you were in the clear, you saw Seungmin glancing in your direction, that infamous smirk already forming on his face. You knew that look all too well—he was up to something.

Desperate, you shot him a pleading look, mouthing a dramatic “Nooo,” and shaking your head in an exaggerated fashion. But the smirk only widened as he raised his hand.

“Ma'am!”

You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the inevitable scolding. This is it, you thought. I’m done.

But instead, Seungmin’s voice rang out casually, “I forgot to give you the assignments I collected from the class.”

Your eyes flew open in shock. What?

“Oh right! Thank you, Seungmin, for the reminder.” The teacher smiled at him, clearly appreciating the help.

Seungmin stood up, cool as ever, handing over the pile of papers. He sat back down, a faint smirk still on his lips as if nothing unusual had happened.

You slid into your seat cautiously, your heart still racing. You glanced over at Seungmin, who met your gaze with a quick wink before turning back to his notebook. That was... new, you thought, utterly confused.

--

Practice resumed as usual, and you started to get into the flow of things. You liked rehearsing for the play more than you thought you would, especially with the creative freedom you were given. The only downside? Seungmin never missed an opportunity to get under your skin.

As you entered the practice room, sporting your freshly cut hair, Seungmin immediately took notice.

He eyed you up and down, a teasing grin already forming on his lips. “You know,” he began, casually leaning back in his chair, “short hair doesn’t really suit you.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing exactly where this was headed. “What are you talking about? I look pretty in it,” you shot back confidently, placing your hands on your hips.

Seungmin raised an eyebrow, the playful grin still firmly in place. “Pretty? More like you look like a monkey who tried to give itself a haircut.”

“Excuse me?” You gasped, pretending to be scandalized. “I do not look like a monkey.”

“Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night,” Seungmin shrugged, clearly enjoying how flustered you were getting. He leaned closer, dropping his voice dramatically. “But just so you know, if we ever put you in a zoo, you’d fit right in.”

You gasped again, this time more dramatically, then pointed at him with a mock serious expression. “You’re just jealous because I’m out here looking cute and you can’t handle it.”

“Cute?” Seungmin laughed, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“Whatever, I know the truth. You’re just afraid to admit that I’m rocking this look,” you teased back, refusing to back down.

“Yeah, yeah. Keep dreaming, monkey,” he said, chuckling softly as you narrowed your eyes at him.

--

Another day in class, you were erasing the board when something hit the back of your head. Startled, you spun around, spotting Seungmin sitting there, whistling innocently. It was the most obvious thing ever—he didn’t even try to hide it.

You glared at him, trying to keep your cool. ‘Let it go’, you thought. ‘Don’t give him the satisfaction’. But then, another paper ball hit you.

"Seriously?" you muttered under your breath, turning to give him a sharp look.

This time, Seungmin didn’t bother pretending. He smiled and pointed to the paper ball on the floor. “Read it,” he said, nodding toward the crumpled note.

You raised your hand, ready to throw the eraser at him with full force.

“Wait!” Seungmin said quickly, holding up his hands in surrender. “Just read it, will you?”

With a dramatic sigh, you picked up the paper, unfolding it. Written in his messy handwriting were the words: “Let’s eat. My treat.”

Before you could react, Jisung, who had been quietly observing the whole scene, burst into laughter. “What kind of lame drama am I witnessing?” he cackled.

You whipped around and threw the eraser at him instead, hitting him square in the shoulder. “Mind your own business, Jisung!”

“Hey! I’m just saying!” Jisung grinned, clearly enjoying the chaos.

Later that afternoon, you and Seungmin found yourselves at a seafood restaurant. Well, it was supposed to be Seungmin’s treat, but somehow the two of you ended up bickering over who would pay. Cause you wanna pay too.

“Let’s settle this the mature way—rock, paper, scissors,” Seungmin proposed, holding out his fist.

“Fine,” you agreed, thinking you had a good chance.

You both threw out your hands, and you won.

“Yes!” you exclaimed, triumph coursing through you for about five seconds. But then Seungmin began to order.

He grinned, shaking his head. “You’re gonna regret that.”

You frowned, confusion creeping in as the waiter approached. Seungmin rattled off an absurd number of dishes—enough to feed an entire village.

“Seungmin,” you hissed, eyes wide in disbelief, “do you really need to order enough food for 30 people?”

Seungmin leaned back in his chair, completely unfazed. “You said it was your treat. I’m just taking full advantage.”

You pouted, crossing your arms defiantly. “This isn’t fair. You’re evil.”

“Evil? No way,” he laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I prefer the term ‘strategically gifted.’”

As the waiter left with the long list of orders, you grumbled, “You should’ve thought about that before challenging me.”

In the end, Seungmin ended up paying for most of it, but you insisted on contributing, stubbornly pushing a few bills his way. He didn’t argue too much, shaking his head with an amused smile. “You’re relentless, aren’t you?”

“Of course! If I’m going to be broke, I might as well be happy about it,” you retorted, a grin spreading across your face.

Seungmin laughed, clearly entertained by your determination. “Fair enough. Next time, I’ll just let you win without a fight.”

“Deal! But only if you promise not to order enough food for a small army,” you teased, raising your glass in a mock toast.

“Challenge accepted,” he replied, clinking his glass against yours, both of you laughing at the absurdity of it all.

--

Another rehearsal, and you were sitting on the sidelines, legs crossed as you watched your classmates perform. You had just finished your scene and were still buzzing from the energy of it all. The lights cast a warm glow on the stage, and you found yourself quietly admiring the atmosphere, the stars of the production shining brightly in your eyes.

Suddenly, the director's voice broke through your thoughts. “Seungmin, can you step in as the main character for a bit? Our lead’s absent today.”

“Sure,” Seungmin replied, standing up with an easy confidence. He made his way to the center of the stage, and you prepared for him to be awkward or hesitant. Instead, he surprised you.

As he took his place, he transformed. His movements were smooth and assured, his voice resonating with sincerity. You couldn’t help but lean forward, captivated. He moved across the stage effortlessly, delivering his lines with an authenticity that made you forget you were watching your friend.

Wow, he was really talented.

You shook your head slightly, trying to push the thought away. No way could you think Seungmin was handsome. That was just absurd.

Then came a scene where he had to hug the female lead. As he pulled her into a gentle embrace, your heart gave a small, inexplicable flutter. The warmth of his presence seemed to radiate even from where you sat, and you felt an unfamiliar tightening in your stomach.

You tried to shrug it off, focusing on the performance, but the feeling lingered, swirling with an odd mix of admiration and something else entirely. Watching him, you realized you were seeing a different side of Seungmin—one that was undeniably charismatic and captivating.

The rehearsal continued, but you found it harder to concentrate, your thoughts drifting back to the way he had held her, how effortlessly he embodied the character. What was happening to you? You glanced away, trying to regain your composure, but the strange flutter remained, echoing in your mind long after the scene ended.

You were still lost in thought about the rehearsal when Hyunjin sat down beside you. “You look really pretty with your hair like that,” he commented with a smile.

You blushed at the compliment, glancing down. “Thanks! Seungmin said it doesn’t suit me.”

Hyunjin chuckled softly. “Seungmin? He’s just teasing you. That’s his way of telling you he likes it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You think?”

“Definitely,” Hyunjin replied with a smirk. “He wouldn’t bother teasing you if he didn’t like it.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “He always tease me.”

Hyunjin leaned back, still smiling. “How did you two meet, anyway?”

“We’re neighbors,” you explained. “Since elementary school. We were always competing—who could get the best grades, who could finish their homework first. It’s been like that forever.”

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow. “Do you hate him?”

You laughed, thinking for a moment. “If I could push him off a cliff, I probably would.”

Hyunjin grinned. “Would you really, though?”

You hesitated, suddenly unsure. “...yes,” you admitted, half-joking.

Hyunjin chuckled, clearly sensing something. “Well, I hope I don’t hear about you two pushing each other off cliffs anytime soon.”

You shrugged with a playful smile. “No promises.”

--

Later, you were eating peacefully in the cafeteria, minding your own business, when Seungmin plopped his tray down across from you. He sat down without a word, digging into his food.

You raised an eyebrow, already knowing what was coming. “Let me guess... your friends are coming?”

Seungmin glanced at you lazily, a piece of bread halfway to his mouth. “No, they don’t wanna see you.”

You pouted, pretending to be offended. “I miss Hyunjin.”

“Then ask him out,” Seungmin replied lazily, taking a bite of his bread.

You paused mid-bite, your eyes narrowing as you stared at him. “You think I have a chance with him?”

Seungmin smirked, shaking his head. “No, he hates monkeys like you who throw erasers at people.”

You gasped, glaring at him. “I do not look like a monkey!”

“Sure, whatever helps you,” Seungmin teased, his grin widening. “And for the record, Hyunjin’s probably just being nice.”

You frowned, “He said I was pretty with my new haircut.”

Seungmin scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “Do you know how much he lies? He probably tells that to everyone.”

You didn’t bother arguing. Instead, you decided to change tactics. “Help me get him to go out with me, then.”

Seungmin snorted. “Do it on your own. You’re big enough for that.”

You groaned dramatically, leaning across the table toward him. “If you help me, I’ll buy you something. Anything you want.”

Seungmin looked at you, considering it for a moment before shrugging. “Buy me a house."

You rolled your eyes, giving him a deadpan stare. “Never mind. I’ll do it myself.”

He smirked, clearly enjoying how easily you gave up. “Good luck, Juliet.”

--

It was Friday again, and somehow, you found yourself seated next to Seungmin—again. This time, however, you arrived early, a full thirty minutes ahead of your usual time. Feeling tired, you laid your head on the desk, hoping to catch a quick nap.

Just as you were dozing off, you felt a sharp knock on the desk, startling you awake. You looked up to see Seungmin grinning down at you, clearly enjoying your misery.

“Missing me that much, huh?” he teased. “You’re thirty minutes earlier than usual.”

You groaned, rubbing your eyes. “We basically see each other every day. I’m already sick of it,” you replied with a shrug.

Seungmin chuckled, settling into his seat beside you. “You’ll survive. Anyway, I need to copy your assignment.”

You blinked, sitting up straight. “We had an assignment?”

“Seriously?” Seungmin raised an eyebrow, holding back a laugh. He reached into his bag and pulled out his own paper, handing it to you. “Here, just copy mine before Ma’am shows up.”

You took the paper from him, still confused. “Wait, I thought you said you didn’t do the assignment either?”

“I forgot that I had,” Seungmin said casually, smirking. “Now hurry up before it’s too late.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed your pen and started copying the assignment, scribbling quickly while glancing at the door every few seconds to make sure the teacher wasn’t close. As you worked, you couldn’t help but notice the shift between you and Seungmin. There was a time when you would’ve refused to help him—or worse, argued with him endlessly. But now? It felt... different. There was a weird sense of comfort in these small moments.

"What now? does our fighting over who finish assignments first done?" you laugh,

"Then give me back my paper. I've changed my mind."

You didn’t hate it. In fact, you kind of liked it.

--

 Seungmin was sipping on his water bottle backstage when Hyunjin approached him, all casual as ever.

“Seungmin,” Hyunjin started, leaning against the wall beside him. “Do you like her?”

Seungmin paused mid-sip, glancing sideways at Hyunjin with a raised brow. “What are you talking about?”

Hyunjin gave him a knowing look. “I’ve known you for years, dude. I know when you like someone.”

Seungmin snorted, trying to brush it off. “Why would that matter to you?”

“Well,” Hyunjin said with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “if I asked her out, would you get mad?”

Seungmin’s eyes widened slightly before he quickly masked it, his expression turning nonchalant. “Why would I care?”

Hyunjin tilted his head, smirking as if testing Seungmin’s reaction. “Really?”

Seungmin waved his hand dismissively, though his jaw tightened slightly. “What am I, a matchmaker for you two? Why are you even asking for my opinion? I don’t care.”

Hyunjin chuckled and slung an arm around Seungmin’s shoulders. “Thanks, bro. That’s all I needed to know.”

As Hyunjin walked away, Seungmin clenched his water bottle a little too tightly. He wasn’t sure what irritated him more—the fact that Hyunjin seemed interested in you, or the fact that you two were making him feel like some kind of third wheel. Whatever it was, it was starting to get under his skin.

--

Seungmin was making his way back to the classroom, balancing a small box of milk he’d grabbed for you from the cafeteria. He'd overheard you mention wanting one earlier, so without a second thought, he picked one up, hoping to surprise you.

As he neared the classroom door, he paused when he heard your voice. You were deep in conversation with one of your friends, and for some reason, curiosity got the better of him. He stood just outside, hidden by the doorframe, listening.

"Why do you hate Seungmin so much, anyway?" your friend asked.

Seungmin’s ears perked up at the question, his grip tightening around the milk carton. He wasn’t sure why he was still standing there, but he couldn’t move. He just waited.

You sighed before answering, "He's so annoying. Always teasing me, always acting like he’s better than me. He’s infuriating."

Each word hit him harder than he expected, like tiny jabs that made his heart sink deeper and deeper. He already knows this what you felt for him but he doesn't know why it still hurts. He could feel his chest tighten, his breath coming out a little shallower as he stayed rooted to the spot.

But then you added something else, something he missed. A quieter tone followed the harshness of your earlier words. It was softer, almost like you were reflecting on something.

"Lately though... I don’t know. I guess I’ve started to see that maybe he’s not that bad."

But Seungmin didn’t hear those words. He had already turned away, stepping back before he could catch the change in your tone. His heart, now heavier, urged him to walk in the opposite direction, so that’s exactly what he did. The milk, once meant to be a small gesture of kindness, now felt pointless in his hand.

PE class rolled around, and with no rehearsal scheduled, you entered the gym, spotting Seungmin as usual. You both ended up being partners again—something that had become routine at this point. There were no protests, no over-the-top objections. Just quiet acceptance.

The first activity was jogging, but you immediately noticed something was off. Normally, Seungmin would be teasing you the whole time, making snarky comments about how slow you were. But today, he was silent.

"One minute," you said, reading his time on the stopwatch. Normally, this would prompt a laugh from him, followed by some sarcastic remark about how you'd be the first one caught in a zombie apocalypse.

But today, he just nodded and moved on to the next activity without a word. Weird.

The next exercise was push-ups. You barely managed four before collapsing, groaning in exhaustion. Seungmin, on the other hand, breezed through twenty without breaking a sweat. You tried to compliment him in a lowkey way, but he didn’t react—just kept going like a machine.

What is up with him?

Then came the sit-ups. You held down Seungmin’s toes, though it didn’t seem like he needed any help. His form was perfect, and he didn’t even look your way. The proximity of the exercise made you search for his eyes, but every time you tried to make eye contact, he avoided looking at you.

When it was your turn, you felt exhausted by your fifth sit-up, and Seungmin held your toes firmly in place. This time, he watched you more intently, though you couldn’t see him since you were focusing on the exercise. Only when you glanced up did he quickly avert his gaze.

After class, you caught him trying to leave and stopped him in his tracks.

“Seungmin, what’s going on with you?” you asked, planting yourself in front of him.

He gave you a blank look. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re acting... weirdly weird today. Did something happen?”

Seungmin sighed, clearly not in the mood for a conversation. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said flatly, brushing past you.

You caught his arm before he could fully walk away. “Hey, you can talk to me. If something’s wrong, just tell me.”

He paused, looking at you for a moment with an unreadable expression before saying coldly, “Why would I? We’re not friends.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. You froze, watching as he walked away, feeling a strange pang in your chest.

Later, you sat next to Hyunjin, watching Seungmin perform his scenes on stage. He still ignored you, going through the motions of his role flawlessly, but there was no denying the distance between you now. The way he looked past you, as if you weren’t there, made you feel... sad.

“What’s up with him?” you muttered to Hyunjin. “He’s been acting strange all day.”

Hyunjin smirked. “He’s probably mad about what I told him.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What did you tell him?”

Hyunjin chuckled softly, leaning closer. “I told him I like you. And that I was going to ask you out.”

You blinked in surprise, staring at him. “Wait... what?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Why else would he be jealous?”

“Jealous?” you repeated, confused. “Why would he be jealous?”

Hyunjin let out a soft laugh. “I don’t know if you and Seungmin are both idiots, or if you’re just blind.”

“Ouch,” you said, feigning offense, though your mind was spinning. Jealous? Seungmin?

Hyunjin’s laugh faded into a small smile, and after a moment of silence, he sighed. “Wow, my confession really flew under the radar, huh?”

You looked at him, feeling a little guilty. Oh... right. His confession.

You smiled awkwardly. “Wait, was it serious? Or were you just joking?”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes. “You think I’m a joker like that puppy?” He nodded toward Seungmin, who was still on stage.

Normally, this would be the moment where you’d blush, stammer, and lose your mind. But something didn’t feel right. There was something nagging at you, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“I...”

Before you could respond, Hyunjin raised a hand, cutting you off. “Actually, you know what? Don’t answer me yet. I’ll wait until after the play presentation.”

He smiled, and you smiled back, though it felt forced.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’m just getting my water bottle,” Seungmin’s voice broke the moment as he stepped between you two, grabbing his bottle.

You opened your mouth to say something, but he was gone before you could. You stared after him, feeling more confused than ever.

-

In the past, this type of bickering was normal between you two. You had always gotten on each other's nerves, and usually, you'd be happy to ignore him, savoring the peace and quiet. But this time felt different. Why were you so affected by his silence? Why did it feel like a hollow pit had formed in your chest, waiting for him to fill it? You hated him, didn’t you? You used to hate him—right? But now, all you felt was a growing sense of confusion and frustration, like you were waiting for something that never came.

Seungmin had been avoiding you for three days now, and at first, you brushed it off, assuming he had something on his mind. But as time went on, the weight of his silence pressed harder. It wasn’t just affecting the play—it was affecting you. His avoidance felt more personal than it ever had before, and it gnawed at you until you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

"Seungmin, let's talk." You caught up to him backstage, your voice firmer than usual, trying to mask the vulnerability you were starting to feel.

"Why?" he responded coldly, not even looking in your direction.

You blinked, taken aback by the sharpness of his tone. "What do you mean, 'why'? We obviously need to talk about something."

"I don't want to," he replied like a stubborn child, folding his arms defensively.

You groaned, frustration bubbling inside you. "Stop giving me that bratty attitude, Seungmin. Let's just talk, okay?" Without thinking, you grabbed his wrist, dragging him toward the exit door for privacy.

Once you were both outside, you turned to face him, still gripping his wrist. "Are you angry at me?" you asked softly, though the edge of desperation in your voice betrayed you.

Seungmin pulled his hand away from your grasp, shrugging. "We're normally angry at each other," he muttered, staring at the ground as if avoiding your gaze would shield him from the conversation.

You furrowed your brows, trying to make sense of what he was saying. "Seungmin, we both know something has changed between us. We’re… sort of friends now, right? Why are you acting like this?"

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Why? This is normal. We’ve always been like this. Why are you suddenly acting like something's different?"

Your chest tightened, and you swallowed hard. "So I’m still just an enemy to you?" The words slipped out, raw and vulnerable, and you hated yourself for how much it hurt. You could feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back quickly. "Because for me—" Your voice wavered, but you forced yourself to continue. "For me, things changed. I’ll be honest with you. I hated you so much before, Seungmin. I mean, if I could’ve thrown you into the fire pit, I would’ve done it in a heartbeat." You laughed bitterly, trying to lighten the mood, but your heart ached as you realized the truth. "But now, I see you as a friend."

Seungmin's breath hitched at your confession, and for a moment, his walls seemed to crack. But then his jaw clenched, and he shook his head. "No."

You stared at him, bewildered. "No? What do you mean 'no'?"

His voice was strained, like he was forcing the words out. "Why are you doing this to me? Why can’t you just focus on Hyunjin and pretend like I’m not even here?"

"Why would I do that?" you asked, confusion lacing your words.

Seungmin's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing in frustration. "Because you like him," he bit out. "You like Hyunjin, and you’ve hated me since the day we met."

You stepped closer, lowering your voice, "Seungmin… I told you. We're past that stage of hating each other."

His laugh was hollow, bitter. "You’ve hated me since we were kids. Do you have any idea how much that hurt? But you know what? I preferred it that way. I’d rather you keep hating me than whatever this is."

You were silent for a moment, letting his words sink in. It hit you hard—the realization that Seungmin had always been more affected by your feelings than you’d thought. And now, he was clinging to the past because it was easier to accept your hatred than deal with the uncertainty of whatever you were becoming now.

"But I don't hate you anymore," you said softly, your voice gentle but firm.

His gaze flickered up to meet yours for the briefest second before he looked away again, a storm of emotions brewing behind his eyes. His fists clenched at his sides, and for a moment, you thought he might say something, but instead, he shook his head, taking a deep breath.

"Then what do you feel now?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

It was a question you hadn’t fully answered yourself. What did you feel? What had changed between you two? The hate had faded long ago, replaced by something warmer, something deeper. But how could you put it into words when you weren’t sure what those feelings even were?

"I don’t know," you admitted, your voice trembling. "But I know I don’t want to keep ignoring it. I don’t want to keep pretending like we’re still stuck in the past. I care about you, Seungmin, and I—"

He cut you off, his voice sharp but shaky, "Stop. Don’t say it. Please."

His plea was laced with fear, and you could see it now—the fear of getting hurt, of being vulnerable. Seungmin had always hidden behind his teasing and sharp words, but now, as he stood before you, walls crumbling, you realized just how much he had been protecting himself all along.

"Seungmin..." You took a step closer, your hand hesitating before reaching out to touch his arm. "You don’t have to push me away."

He closed his eyes, his shoulders tense, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away again. But then, he sighed, the weight of his emotions too heavy to bear alone anymore. "You don’t get it," he whispered, his voice raw. "I’m scared. Scared that if you don’t hate me, you’ll realize… I’ve liked you for so long, and I don’t know how to handle that."

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession. The tension, the unspoken words, all of it finally made sense. You felt your chest tighten as you processed his words, the vulnerability behind them cutting deep.

Seungmin liked you.

And somehow, deep down, you’d known.

-

The day of the play had arrived, and for the first time, a tight knot of nerves twisted in your stomach. You'd performed in front of people before, but this time felt different. This time, you weren’t just performing in front of a crowd—you were performing in front of him.

As you paced backstage, waiting for the curtain to rise, you couldn’t help but glance around anxiously, searching for Seungmin. The others were already in place, getting ready for the opening act. But Seungmin… he was nowhere to be seen.

Your heart raced as minutes ticked by. What if he didn’t show up? What if his feelings, the tension between you, had driven him away? You shook your head, trying to focus, but the anxiety clung to you like a second skin.

The stage manager called for the cast to take their places, and you stepped toward the stage, dread settling deep in your chest. The lights dimmed, the curtains rustled, and the play was about to begin. But Seungmin—where was he?

Just as the opening music started and your heart sank, you heard footsteps behind you. You turned and saw him. Seungmin, slightly out of breath, his eyes locking with yours as he walked into place. He gave you a small, reassuring nod, and you felt a rush of relief. He had made it.

You took a deep breath, letting his presence calm you, and when the curtains finally rose, you stepped into your role. The lights blinded you for a second, and the sound of the audience rustled in the background, but none of that mattered. Your focus was on one person.

Seungmin.

You went through your lines, heart pounding in your chest. The audience faded away, and it was just the two of you on stage. But when you looked into Seungmin’s eyes, delivering your lines, it felt too real—like every word you spoke wasn’t part of the play but something deeper.

And then came the moment. The pivotal line.

As you reached the climax of your scene, Seungmin stepped closer, his gaze steady and intense. “I love you,” he said, his voice clear and sincere.

Your breath caught in your throat. The weight of his words, delivered in that moment, felt electric. It wasn’t just a line; it was a declaration that cut through the scripted lines and went straight to your heart.

Tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to spill over. You weren’t supposed to cry here—not in this scene—but it was impossible to hold back the emotion. The intensity of the moment, standing before him as he revealed his feelings, overwhelmed you.

Seungmin’s gaze softened, and for a second, the audience faded away. It was just you and him, wrapped in a moment that felt like the truth finally breaking through.

You tried to respond, but the weight of his confession hung in the air, filling the space between you. You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay.

The play continued, but all you could think about was Seungmin’s words. He had spoken them as part of the script, but they felt so real, so genuine. Something shifted in the atmosphere between you two—something undeniable.

As the final act came to a close, and you took your bow, the audience erupted in applause. But even then, your eyes were only on Seungmin, wondering if he felt the same shift in the air between you two. Something had changed. Something profound. And while you weren’t sure where it would lead, for now, you were content just to hold on to the moment, letting it linger as the lights dimmed and the curtains closed.

For now, the stage had played its part, but what came next was something only time would tell.

-

a reblog, like, and comment is very much appreciated to keep me going. thanks for reading, love!

sorry for being inactive lately and not responding to any of your messages i appreciate you all love you sm!!

part 2 here!

[softtdaisy]

Heyyy congrats on the 2k 💌

I wanted to request charles leclerc with birds of a feather by billie eilish some sort of high school sweetheart thing if you could

Thank you 💞

summary. Five times Charles realized you were his soulmate; one time he told you.

words count. 2 954

song. birds of a feather by billie eolith

a/n. I really hope this is what you expected, I got inspired in a very soft and sweet way and I had a lot of fun writing it so hopefully you love it 🩷

PARTICIPATE IN MY 2K CELEBRATION

criminal minds masterlist | F1 masterlist | general masterlist| request

1. The celebration

Growing up with Charles, you always got the feeling you would spend the rest of your life with him. You couldn’t explain it. 

Sure, you didn’t want to imagine a life where you wouldn’t get to see your best friend every single day. Even if it was just for a brief phone call that lasted only two minutes. When you two started dating, it became more obvious that you wouldn’t want to have another lover than Charles. 

But more than that, it was like you two were made to be together. And the universe seemed to enjoy proving it to you with silly things. 

Charles was the first one to point it out.

The first time he noticed that you two seemed to get good news at the same moment was during his first F2 season. You followed him to Bahrain to watch the first race. Making sure to be there to celebrate when he won the sprint race for the very first time. The following Monday, you got a call from the company of your dreams asking for an interview.

The next race in Barcelona a month later, when Charles won his first feature race, the same company called back to announce they were hiring you. 

Charles didn’t say a thing. But he noticed how this kept happening every single time. And when it was something related to the both of you, you were always together to hear it. You learned you got the apartment of your dreams during a casual footing and got the adoption paper for your dog right when Charles walked through the door.

Until one day, years after his F2 season, he finally slipped it out. 

“Don’t you find it funny how we always celebrate good things happening to us at the same moment?” He asked you suddenly, having nothing to do with the precedent subject.  

Charles had invited you to a restaurant in Italy after he achieved another win at Monza. Something that happened right after your boss had praised you for something you’ve been working on for weeks now.

You laughed at the thought. “What’s your theory?” But he could tell from your look that you weren’t making fun of him but were simply amused by the situation. That was very much true, now that you thought about it. 

“I don’t know,” he started, drinking his wine. “I just guess we were meant to be.”

“Because you doubt it?”

Charles stayed silent for a second, just appreciating the view in front of him. You. You were the best view. You, always so happy by his side, you that seemed so perfectly made for him. Like two pieces of a puzzle that only worked together.

He leaned towards you, his hand moving to your face to cup your cheek. You loved how when he did that, his thumb was always caressing your skin. Every single time. A habit so natural for him. 

“Never,” he smiled before giving you the sweetest kiss. 

2. The text

“Tu te rends compte que t’es vraiment niais?” Pierre laughed at his friend.

Charles rolled his eyes at the remark. He might be a little silly or cheesy when it comes to you; he might even be proud of it. He had no reason not to be when he was so happy and in love with you.

The two have been hanging out in the hotel, looking for some calm after the qualifying day. Charles got the pole, and with Pierre in the top 3, the two have been asked absolutely everywhere. He didn’t have the time to call you.

You had a hard time following him everywhere this season but always managed to be there as much as possible in any other way. You didn’t want to make him feel less supported—even if it was something that could never cross his mind.

“Let me be in love, dude,” Charles replied with a laugh that only made Pierre laugh even harder. He put his hands up in a defensive way because he learned after all these years of seeing you together that there was something he could do to stop Charles from being a pure lover boy with you.

Charles had just hung up from a phone call with his mom, who called right when he arrived there. With the time difference, he waited for you to finish the lunch you had today. The thing was, Charles knew that if he sent you a text right when he was out of the circuit, you would have put everything aside for him. 

Sometimes you both fight about putting each other first. Most of these fights were silly; just each one of you wanted to prove you were the best at this. But you already argued about how this mustn't become toxic for either of you. You didn't want to reach a point where you loved each other so much you forgot about your own life. 

And so he waited a minute. One single minute. Before he sent his text.

“Tell me when you’re free so I can call you, honey.” 

And right when his message appeared on screen, yours did too.

“It’s over, mon amour; you can call when you want.” 

Charles’ cheek turned red at the sight.

It wasn’t the first time you both managed to send texts at the exact same time. Sometimes it made sense, like right now, because you were both waiting to call each other. But most of the time, it couldn’t be predicted. Charles could even remember how many times you both managed to send each other the sky from where you were, your food, or an “OMG, I need to tell you something!!” with a few seconds apart. 

He knew you screened most of them, finding it so funny. And he was glad that there was proof it wasn’t all in his head.

“No way, it happened again?” Pierre said, looking over at Charles' phone to see that indeed it happened again. “You two share the same brain at that point; there is no other explanation.” 

Charles got up, ready to dial your number. “I think we do, yes,” he replied with a soft smile. Because he loved the idea of being so similar. 

3. The crowd

Fratelli d'Italia was playing again in the circuit. Charles was having one of the best seasons in his career, but he would never ever get tired of hearing the Italian anthem playing. And mostly seeing the team, his friends, and his family singing it from the top of their lungs.

It hasn’t been an easy race, and multiple times, he really thought he would have to DNF. If he was in some silly romcom, he was so sure that it would have been the moment Fred would have asked you to give him some motivational words on the radio. But that wasn’t possible, and well, that was probably for the better because Charles wasn’t so sure how he would react to hearing your voice during the race.

Yet, the idea of you being in the circuit for one of the few races of the season you could come to was helpful. Sure, Charles never relied only on your presence here to do great results. But he would be lying if he said it was a plus to know that somewhere, you were there looking for him.

And that when he would win, you would be around to celebrate it with him.

The thing was, being such a massively appreciated driver, Charles didn’t really find the time to celebrate with you before going on the podium. All the mechanics ran to him; his teammate chatted with him until they both went to the podium. 

Some may have noticed he frowned during the anthem, just for one millisecond. 

Because there was one thing Charles was good at.

It was finding you in a crowd of thousands of people.

His hand was still on his heart while singing the anthem with everyone. Something you were doing too. But Charles never stopped looking at you. You were his anchor. 

When the anthem stopped, the applause started. Charles knew he had a window of only a few seconds to do what he wanted. And he took it.

“I love you,” he mouthed with a big smile on his face. You could see him on the screen. And so did the world. But it didn’t matter. 

Because this was one of his favorite moments. How the world seemed to stop. It was only you and him. 

And if Charles couldn’t really see it, he knew that you said it back. He could tell. Each one of your I love you's always went directly to his heart. And it never missed its shot. This one didn’t either.

Like in the end, your love was always meant to be directed to him in the first place. Just his was to you too. 

4. The trend

You weren’t the biggest fan of the “wag” thing. Sure, you were one. That was undeniable at that point. But since you started dating Charles before he was an F1 driver, you sometimes had a difficult time getting used to being treated like one.

The photographers who were running to get a picture of you when you arrived at the circuit, the fans asking for selfies, the edit made of you and Charles together. And that was without talking about all the comments and remarks, positive and negative, made about you. 

So most of the time, you were putting social media aside and trying to forget the world knew about you because of your couple.

But sometimes, you can't escape them. Especially when the trend was fun and you had a good time looking at it.

“Did you know we were compatible on so many levels?” you asked Charles from the bedroom. 

You were lying on your bed, wearing a too-big Ferrari merch shirt from last year that was perfect to chill—and to flirt with Charles, who could resist you even less when you were wearing his color. 

You looked up and laughed when he passed only his face through the bathroom door, his toothbrush still in his mouth. “What did you mean?” he mumbled. But he was quick to rush to the sink to rinse his mouth. 

So you waited until he sat back next to you, his head on your shoulder, to look at your phone to give him an explanation.

“The fans,” you started again, a hand falling on his naked thighs to caress his skin, “they used a trend that’s going on right now about showing how people are compatible on different levels.”

You put on a video that you saw earlier about you two. Charles watched as he saw what the fans used to prove you two were made to be together. Your astrological signs, your birth date, similar features you shared, a beauty mark you shared that you had no idea how people noticed in the first place. Some were funny; others were more serious.

But the global idea was that the whole world was convinced Charles and you were made to be together. 

One video even called you soulmate.

“At this point, I’m pretty sure we can’t break up or the universe will explode.” You laughed, watching yet another video about that.

But Charles was only looking at you. 

He was pretty sure that his universe would explode if he ever lost you.

5. The flirt

“Charles, I need you to meet someone!” he heard his agent say.

To say that Charles wasn’t that pleased to be at this party was an understatement. The season was more tiring, and he couldn’t wish for anything less than just a night of peace in his hotel room. He felt like everyone around here wanted a piece of him, and he couldn’t keep enough energy to have a chat with you these days.

He loved his job; he loved this championship, but how he wanted a break from all of this.

Yet, Charles kept a smile on his face when he turned around and saw the person his agent wanted him to meet so badly. He recognized her from god knows which campaign his sponsor did these past weeks. She was a model. 

“Nice to meet you,” he said in a very polite tone. He offered his hand, trying to keep some distance. Sadly, Charles knew that each one of his movements was analyzed, and he didn’t want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable.

He hated the moment when you weren’t there and haters started to think it was some proof you weren’t a thing anymore. Because as soon as he was pictured with anybody, especially women, they would become some love interest in a story that didn’t exist. 

It turned out it was Charles who was soon uncomfortable when the model kept his hand in hers and started to caress it. “It’s a real pleasure,” she whispered, like it was a secret.

But he didn’t want to share a secret with anyone but you.

When he moved his hand to get it free, the model groaned. Charles didn’t get it, because it would have been a very inappropriate reaction for simply releasing his hand. But then he noticed how she was rubbing her palm. “You pinched my skin with your ring.”

He looked down at his hand. And couldn’t contain the smile when he realized it wasn’t any ring that hurt her by accident. 

It was the one you offered him for your anniversary, a month ago. The last time you talked about getting engaged, you both agreed that this was too soon and you would rather wait for him to achieve his dream. So the whole wedding organization wouldn’t be impacted by the craziness of the season.

“I can marry you at 20, 30, 50, or 70; I don’t care, Charles. As long as I have you in my life forever.” You told him when you discussed it.

Yet, you loved the idea of him wearing a ring that proved he was yours. And he couldn’t blame you since he did it multiple times in the past already, always happy to spend his money on his love for you.

“Sorry,” he said in a hurry, already taking his phone in his hand to send you a text. 

Right when he sent you a “I won’t believe what just happened.” He received a “I hope your party is going well!”

You were there. All the time. Even when you weren’t. 

+1 

“Un discours, un discours!” You heard everyone sing in the room, asking your boyfriend to finally make the speech he promised he would do but still hasn’t.

You turned around to see him and watched as his cheeks turned a beautiful and very red color—how appropriate to celebrate his title with Ferrari. You put your hand on his shoulder to lean closer to him and couldn’t resist kissing his cheek, adding a new tint of red to it. But mostly, as you expected, to see him chill at your touch.

“Go ahead, mon amour; they are waiting for you.” You told him, still bringing your thumb to his skin to wipe away your lipstick. You loved teasing him, but you still weren’t the mark-your-territory type of girlfriend. “You won the championship; I’m sure you can make this speech.”

“You better be right on this one,” he laughed, still not sure he could do it. Especially not after the multiple champagne glasses he drank tonight. 

But still, Charles got up, smoothed his shirt, and put a kiss in your hair before walking to the center of the room. He gave his mother a genuine smile, but his eyes fell on you one last time. It was like the kiss you blew him at that moment went straight to his heart from the way he sighed and finally turned to his guests.

“We fucking did it, guys!” Charles said loudly in the microphone, causing everyone to scream and applaud at the memory that yes, finally, il predestinato gave Ferrari its title.

And so Charles started to thank everyone in the team, making sure to not forget a single person. Making sure everyone in this room knew how grateful he was that he had been so well looked after this past year. You watched as he took the time to look at the person he said the name to every time and how he was taking the time to say a nice word about them. 

You feel the tears growing in your eyes when he talks about his family. Reminding him of the old days back in Monaco and how far he had come to achieve his dream. 

And then you heard your name. 

“And you,” he started, landing his eyes on you. He waited a second, making sure he wasn’t the only one looking at you. Making sure the whole room knew who you were—even if it had become almost impossible for them to ignore you. “I would have never, ever, done half of this without you. Having you by my side all these years and these past months has been the biggest encouragement. I love you, mon amour.”

Everyone got up and started to applaud, you included. Because of this, most of them didn’t notice Charles open his mouth again. They missed the smile on his face, all the love that came from it, or the look he was giving you at that moment. And mostly, they missed the last sentence of his speech.

Or maybe that was his plan from the beginning. 

“You’re my soulmate.”

[writingsbychlo]

A THIN LINE | LORENZO BERKSHIRE

SUMMARY: there's a pretty thin line between hate and love and enzo is coming right up against it. WORD COUNT: 2782 NOTES: this might actually be one of my favourite pieces I've written, can't say why? I just realised I was in love with it as I wrote it so I hope you all love it too!

Lorenzo Berkshire hated Valentine’s Day. 

He hated commitment, he hated romance, he hated the idea of a stupid day dedicated to public announcements of love stories that would most likely end in tragedy. He hated the concept of monogamy, but if he dug deeper, he could probably sum that up to some kind of traumatic backstory. 

He didn’t like to disguise himself by his parents, he was his own damn person and he wasn’t like them, but a therapist would probably say otherwise. Somewhere between the emotionally abusive mother who was so dedicated to his adulterous, physically abusive father that their only son’s wellbeing fell to nothingness, well, a therapist would probably have something to say about that. 

Suffice it to say, that Lorenzo Berkshire didn’t do love. 

He did sex. He did it well. He was charming and flirty and he knew exactly how good-looking he was. With his perfect hair and his pretty smile and the gazes that made men and women alike go weak in the knees. He knew how to get what he wanted, and it worked on everyone he set his mind to. 

He didn’t do love. 

At least, this inner turmoil was exactly what he was trying to convince himself of as he lay on his back, still flushed a soft pink along his face and chest. His lungs were still burning a little to catch his breath, and his muscles were sore in the most exquisite way, his body thrumming in the aftershock of pleasure. 

He was always on Theodore’s arse about his smoking habits, but he wished he had one now. Maybe it would be something else to do with his hand rather than keep stroking your hair, maybe it would be something to do with his mouth to stop him leaning in and pressing another kiss to the top of your head as you lounged on his chest. 

You stirred, your leg flexing where it was thrown over his own, soft skin that had been perfumed with florals and sugars that had made his head spin was still soft as it slid against his own. He could still feel the warmth of your skin against his lips, the pulse of your racing heartbeat when he’d kissed across your neck. 

He’d left marks. You hated when he did that, but he couldn't help himself. Some deep, sick, twisted part of himself got a thrill out of the fact you’d spent Valentine’s Day with him. Even if he hated it, everyone else would know. You could scrub away his touch and layer new perfumes over the smell of his cologne on your body, you could change your clothes and sneak back to your dorm with an excuse to the girls waiting up for gossip, but you would never be able to hide the blossoming prints he left with his mouth, or the swell of your lips, or the tremble in your step from the way he’d fucked you. 

No. That would stick with you for days. 

You shifted again, groaning a little as you stretched, and Enzo’s heart dropped in his chest. Only moments later, you lifted your head, and scrunched your nose up in that adorable way as you came back around. 

“Did I fall asleep again?”

His lips twitched up at the edges, and he popped a hand behind his head, peering down at you. Twisting that smile into a smirk, he shrugged. “I guess I just wore you out.”

You laughed lightly, a sound that he wanted tattooed to the inside of his mind, a sound he wanted to set as his ringtone, his alarm clock, to hear every morning and every night. That, and the way you so reverently whispered his name when he’d kissed you hours ago. 

It went this way every time. He’d slip you a note, or you’d give him a coy look across the room. Sometimes, it started with a party. It didn’t really matter how it started, only that it ended with the two of you stumbling into bed, your soft moans in his ear as he buried his face into your neck, the breathy call of his name as he sent you to paradise over and over. For almost a year this arrangement had been going on, and at first, he hadn't been sure why it was you he kept coming back to. Why you made him break his one-night-only rule so many times he’d lost count. 

But then he’d just given up caring. 

Now, he just let himself sink further, he could no longer see the surface. He just waited for the rays of your sunlight to break through the ripples, to warm him as he lay on the bottom of the lake, drowning over and over again. 

Hours ago the sun had risen, when you’d shyly asked him what his plans for the night were, and promised to come by later when he confirmed he had none. Now, he was waiting for the sun to set once again. 

You’d say something like—

“I should get going, it’s getting late and my roommates will start to wonder where I am.”

There it was. 

He fought to keep the grin on his face, not to let it show. Instead, he just nodded, taking a moment longer to convince the arm banded tightly around your waist to let go. Slipping away, he fisted his hand into the sheets instead, watching as you rolled away from his side He felt cold where you left, and tugged up the covers a little more to cover himself, like suddenly he was too exposed to let you see him if you turned. 

He let his gaze sweep over you, open and adoring while your back was turned. Gathering up your clothes, you didn’t look back at him until you were tugging your t-shirt back over your head. Twisting on your heel to look at him, you let a smile crawl up your face. 

“What are you looking at?”

“You.” He said before he could stop himself. With a chastising groan, he rolled back into the bed, turning his back to you and rubbing a hand down his face. You laughed again, that sound would be his undoing, he was sure, and then your smaller hand was crawling over his shoulder. 

“Don’t be embarrassed. I thought it was sweet.”

He wasn’t embarrassed the way you thought he was, but you were giving him an out, and he would damn sure take it. He just nodded, bashfully, an act he’d gotten good at putting on, and swung his legs over the bed. Swiping his boxers from the floor, he tugged them up, and let his elbows rest on his knees as he sat back on the mattress. 

There was a question tugging at his lips as he watched you free your hair from the collar of your shirt. You were so beautiful and so kind. Everything you did felt like the acts of a saint to him, you could be a religion and he’d fall to his knees to worship. You did something to him, something he’d never felt before. It was all-consuming, life-altering, suffocating and terrifying. And the longer he stared, the harder it became to hold back the words clawing up his throat. Until he gave up fighting it. Something he seemed to be getting a little too good at these days. 

“Why were you alone this evening?” The words broke out, the sound of his own ragged voice shattering the peaceful silence in his room. The smile on your face melted away, you weren’t mad or hurt, just neutral, perhaps even curious, as you shrugged. 

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” He pushed, and you only stared, a piercing gaze that cracked him in two with ease. You wanted an answer, and he wanted to give you anything you wanted. “I don’t like Valentine’s Day. I think it’s a contrived attempt to get money out of poor suckers who don’t understand that it’s probably never going to last anyway.”

You only blinked at him, registering his words, before your lips twitched at the side, and you offered him a small smirk. “Wow. Someone certainly hates love.”

Love. 

There was that word, that one that made him feel like there was a rope around his neck, a hand wrapped around his heart, choking the life out of him. “But to answer your question, I wasn’t alone this evening. I was with you.”

“I’m sure I wasn’t your first plan.” He wouldn't get his hopes up, he refused to let something so poisonous into his mind willingly, “I bet you were hoping a nice lad would ask you out, take you for dinner and woo you, before taking you back to his dorm, buy your affections. Instead, they missed out, and here you are, giving to me freely.”

There was a bite to his voice, and your brows furrowed. Perhaps he’d pushed it too far, it wouldn't be the first time, you’d leave and ignore him for a day or two and he would convince himself the world wasn’t ending. Then, he’d pull you into some hidden corner and kiss apologies into your mouth as he soothed away your anger. 

You just shook your head at him and stayed silent, and somehow that was worse. 

“Right. Okay. Well, then, I’m leaving if we’re done here. I’ll get right on looking for that nice guy.”

He watched you walk, and felt his heart rate ratchet up with every step you took closer to the door, to leaving, and this time, it was all just too much. This time, he kicked off the sandy lake floor and swam for the surface. “Don’t.”

He’d shot to his feet, so fast he felt dizzy as you turned to face him, and you only raised a brow in silent question. 

“Don’t… go. Or don’t find a nice guy. I’m sorry, I’ll be nicer. I don’t know what I— just… don’t.” 

Your fingers twitched on the door handle as he cursed himself for his rambling mess. He’d never stumbled his way through a stance like that before, he was normally the smooth one. Now, he felt sick, and anxious, fizzes and pops of cold anxiety he could feel all the way to his fingertips as he waited. 

Your hand tightened around the door handle, before sliding away. 

“What do you want from me, Enzo?” You sounded tired as you sighed the words out, and he didn’t want that exhaustion to be because of him, it sounded bone-deep and emotional. But, he knew it was. “Give me a reason to stay, to stay with you. Because it’s Valentine’s Day, and here I am, spending it with you. My first choice. I chose you over romance and flowers and being made to feel special. I chose you and your bedsheets over a pretty dress and compliments. I chose you, and yet, all you’re doing is pushing me away.”

“I’m sorry.” His hand clutched at his chest, rubbing at the place just left of his sternum where it ached inside, his throat stinging. “I don’t know what I want. I just… I want you to stay. I want to know you’ll stay, and that you won’t be with someone else. I want you all the fucking time, it’s not normal! I want you by my side, I want you to keep laughing at my jokes and nobody else, I want you to kiss me and get me to shut up, because I can’t find the words to say it, all I know is how I feel, and—”

You did as he asked, much to his surprise. Your nails pressed lightly into the sides of his neck as you kissed him, nibbling on his lower lip cheekily. His hands slipped once again around your waist, and the tight pressure that felt like it had been slowly leeching his life away finally subsided. 

He stole kisses, again and again, until you were making that angelic sound he loved and pulling back. 

“Say it again.”

“What, all of it? I can’t remember it all.” He mumbled, in a daze, swaying closer to bump his nose into yours. 

“No, just the part about having feelings for me.”

He raised a hand, so big compared to you, and brushed it over the side of your head, holding you gently. Godric, did you have any idea how precious you were to him? No, because that would require him actually saying it. “Of course I have feelings for you, honey. I just don’t know what they are. They’re fucked up, mean and possessive. I want all your time, I want all your attention. I want to punch other guys when they’re near you, I want to smell your fucking hair like some kind of sap, I want to keep you locked by my side until the end of the fucking world so no one else can get to you because you’re… mine.”

You didn’t recoil, you didn’t scare off. Instead, you chuckled at him, blinking up at him with amusement like he’d told another joke. He wasn’t perfect in this moment, he was exposed and ragged and raw. He was the most vulnerable, open version of himself, and you should be running. 

But you weren’t. 

“Enzo, you really don’t know what that is? It’s exactly what I feel too.” The breath was rushed from him, as you took his hand and rested it over your heart, leaning in to kiss his cheek between breathy laughs. “You stupid, endearing man. There’s nothing wrong with you, Enzo.”

“There’s not?”

“No.” You smiled, pecking his lips again, and his eyes fluttered closed, lips puckering to chase your kiss because just for half a second, it felt so different. “You know the name. Four little letters. Don’t let it freak you out too much.”

Love.

It did freak him out. It made him want to spiral and scream and tear at his hair. It made him want to rage and cry and kick something. But, you were still here. So, perhaps, it also made him want to hold you tight, protect you from the world, spend the rest of his life devoted to you and spring you. It was crippling and horrid, and intoxicating.

“I love you.” He mumbled, and this time, your eyes did widen. Just for a second. But he said it again, let the words sit heavy in his mouth, let himself get used to the feel of them. He’d never said it before. Not to his parents, his friends, or even a pet. But the more he said it, the less power it had over him. It stopped feeling like a gun to his head but felt more like a baby bird in his hands. Precious, fragile, a living gift to be protected, not a death sentence. “I love you.”

He wasn’t sure how many times he’d said it now, but it seemed you believed him, as you threw your arms around his neck. Shiny eyes closing, hot tears leaking down your cheeks and your kiss tasted of salt this time, but he didn’t mind. Not as he wiped those tears away, and kissed you back with everything he had. 

He hoped you could still hear the words running through his mind, even as his mouth was occupied. Could you feel his love in this kiss, did it feel different to you too, now?

Huh. Hope.

Maybe that wasn’t so bad either. 

He got it now, with the smile on your face, the way the simplest of things, a few murmured words, a few sounds and syllables strung together had created that look of sunshine. The kind of ethereal blessing that made him feel like he’d been absolved, a miracle that chased out the dark. He got it. 

Perhaps now he understood why people enjoyed the chance to proclaim their love, to make hopeful promises for the future in a desperate plea to ensure it happened. He would do it too, next year. He’d make sure there was a next year to celebrate, and one after that, and that, and onwards. 

As you kissed him, and your lips brushed his own softly as you mumbled those words back into his mouth, he got it. His hand slipped up, tangling in your hair and his mouth slanted across your own, drowning in the taste of heaven on your tongue as you slipped it along his lower lip, he got it. 

There was a thin line between love and hate. Lorenzo Berkshire loved you, and maybe, now, he could love Valentine’s Day too. 

[capquinn]

hello my favorite writer on this app.. after your quinn thot today I was curious if you would write husband!quinn and reader doing the challenge where you go to dinner and first one to mention the kids loses.. maybe a little fun time ensues after 🫣

(quinn would definitely lose and talk about bug within 10 mins)

LOVE this idea. like, absolutely obsessed with it. quinn is struggling bc literally everything reminds him of bug and cub. the music playing in the restaurant? cub babbles along to it in the car. the couple at the next table? bug told him the other day she’s going to marry her best friend from daycare. he’s doomed from the start <3

“Let's play a game,” you announce, setting your menu down and leaning in conspiratorially. “First one to mention the kids loses.”

Across the table, Quinn smirks, tipping his beer to his lips.

“What do I win?”

You blink. “What?”

“If I win.” He raises an eyebrow, expression calm, but you know him too well — there’s mischief brewing under the surface. “What do I get?”

You narrow your eyes, suspicious. “What do you want?”

Quinn hums, pretending to mull it over, gaze flicking over you like he’s debating his options. He sets his beer down, lazily tracing the condensation on the glass with his fingers. Then, with a slow smirk, he shrugs.

“Dunno. Guess I’ll decide when I win.”

You scoff, nudging his shin with the toe of your shoe under the table. It’s not a hard kick — just enough to make him smirk, to let him know you’re onto him.

“Oh, you’re feeling confident.”

“I’m always confident.”

The game starts off easy. You talk about work, a movie you want to see, the couple at the table next to you who are clearly on a first date. Quinn teases you about how you always take forever to pick what to eat, while he’s already placed his order in record time.

You roll your eyes, leaning back in your chair.

“Sorry for wanting to make an informed decision.”

Quinn rests his chin in his palm, watching you with barely hidden amusement.

“You just read the whole menu, pick something, then change your mind three times before the server even gets here.”

“That is a gross exaggeration.”

He hums, a little too smug. “I just think it’s funny how you panic-order every time.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Keep talking and I’m ordering the most expensive thing on the menu.”

Quinn grins, kicking back slightly in his chair. “Go for it, baby. I’m winning this bet either way.”

You scoff, shaking your head, but before you can fire back, the server appears to take your order. You do exactly what Quinn predicted — debate between two options, panic last second, and pick something you weren’t even originally considering.

Quinn just smirks as he hands the menus back. “So predictable.”

“I’ll remember this when your food looks boring and you're begging for a bite of mine.”

Quinn just chuckles, shaking his head as he reaches across the table, fingers lazily finding yours. He doesn’t say anything at first, just traces slow, absentminded patterns over your knuckles, his thumb brushing over your wedding ring, turning it slightly like he always does. It’s quiet, easy — one of those moments that doesn’t need filling, just the two of you sitting there, comfortable in the silence.

Then, after a beat, he smirks. “This game is so easy, huh?”

You huff out a soft laugh, rolling your eyes as you squeeze his fingers. “Yeah, piece of cake.”

But as the minutes tick by, you start running out of steam. Every topic feels like it inevitably leads back to the two tiny humans you’re both very obviously not allowed to mention. You talk about a book you’ve been reading, but Quinn doesn’t read fiction. Quinn brings up hockey, but you hear enough about it during the season. The conversation starts circling the drain, filled with long pauses and raised brows, both of you waiting for the other to slip up.

And then — like it’s a reflex — you both reach for your phones at the same time.

You freeze. Quinn freezes. Fingers hovering over the screen, neither of you daring to move.

Quinn tilts his head, eyes narrowing slightly, voice slow and suspicious. “What are you doing?”

You sit up straighter, phone still suspended midair, blinking at him like you’ve been caught red-handed. “What are you doing?”

His lips twitch. “Just checking something.”

"Me too," you reply, maybe a little too quickly. A beat of silence. The tension thickens, the air between you charged with the weight of realisation.

Quinn’s gaze flickers toward you, sharp and knowing. “Are you checking the baby monitor?”

Your jaw drops, betrayal and horror mixing into one. “Are you?”

Quinn exhales, dragging a hand down his face, already defeated. “Damn it.”

Your shock melts into pure glee. You throw your hands up, phone clattering against the table as you burst out laughing. “Oh my God! I won!”

Quinn groans, leaning back in his chair, tilting his head toward the ceiling.

“Unbelievable.” But there’s a fondness in his voice, even as he shakes his head, even as he reaches for his water like he needs a moment to process his loss.

You grin, all smug and triumphant. “Feels good to be a winner.”

Quinn shoots you a look, all playful warning.

“Guess we should just finish up and head home to —” He catches himself, groaning. “I almost did it again.”

“Tough loss.” You grin, voice full of fake sympathy as you rest your chin on your palm. “So, what do I win?”

Quinn watches you for a long moment, his eyes glinting with something warm, something teasing, something just a little dangerous. He leans in, fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles against your wrist where his hand has found yours again.

“You won. You call it," he murmurs, voice dropping just enough to make your breath hitch.

You hum, tilting your head, dragging it out just to watch him squirm.

“Hmm… I could ask for something small,” you muse, tapping a finger against your chin. “Or… something big.”

Quinn exhales, amused. “You're ruthless.”

“You knew that when you married me,” you counter sweetly.

His thumb strokes idly against the inside of your wrist, his gaze flickering between yours, a tension so thick and warm settling between you in the low candlelight.

Then, smirking, you lean in, all smooth confidence as you murmur, “I think I’ll decide when we get home.”

[moosesarecute]

Day 4: Paid Time Off

@azrielappreciationweek

Masterlist

“They’re incredible,” Feyre said in awe.

Her eyes glowed from the light of Starfall and also from the couple dancing in the middle of the ballroom.

Rhys felt his heart warm at the sight. Y/N and Azriel’s yearly dance. The first one in fifty years. It made him feel a comforting sensation that everything was as it should. Their dance truly ment a lot to everyone in their family.

“They truly are,” he answered her. “Surprised?”

“I never expected them to be such good dancers,” Feyre stated.

Rhys did agree with her. Their beautiful movements surprised him every year.

“Y/N would ask Azriel, Cassian and I to dance every year at Starfall. We always said no. We’re warriors. Warriors don’t dance ballroom dances. Then, suddenly a year, Azriel said yes. I think Y/N was just as surprised as the rest of us,” Rhys chuckled a little as the memory.

“What made him say yes?” Feyre seemed almost in trance looking at their careful and steady movements. The love that bloomed from their gazes could be seen through the entire room.

“It was their first Starfall as a couple. None of us knew, but we probably should have guessed it. Starfall has always been an important day for the two of them. And, of course, none of us know why.”

Y/N and Azriel ended the dance with a small kiss before they made their way back to Mor and Cassian. Azriel’s hand was carefully placed on Y/N’s back and his shadows still held her dress, making sure she didn’t trip on it.

“But that doesn’t explain why they’re so good at it. I never would have been such a good dancer if I only danced once a year.”

“Y/N loves dancing,” Rhys explained. “I still remember her coming crying to my room after she had started the “wife-training” as we called it. She hated the thought that she enjoyed a part of it. But she absolutely loved dancing. I have a theory that they dance all the time when nobody is around.”

“It should simmer for five minutes,” Azriel said before he moved over to you.

You sat at the table, trying to find the right place for the puzzle piece you held in your hand.

Azriel picked the piece from your hand and immediately put it in the right spot. He laughed as you let out an annoyed sigh.

“Come here, love,” he said as he pulled you up from your chair.

You couldn’t help but smile when you realized what it was he wanted.

Azriel’s strong hands held your waist as you moved through your kitchen. Your arms were wrapped around his neck. Your feet were moving together in carefully chosen patterns.

Your smiles and small laughs only grew as he lifted your hand from his shoulder and twirled you around.

The song you danced to was the song that played the first Starfall you were together. A memory you would pull forward and send into Azriel’s mind every time you danced.

His hazel eyes were looking deeply into yours and your violet ones looked back. Your smiles lightened up your entire face.

With a last twirl Azriel dipped you down and his lips met yours.

It was incredible how he still managed to give you butterflies even after centuries of being mates.

He pulled you up again and gave you another small kiss before he let go of you.

“The dinner should be done now,” he said and moved towards the stove.

And as you stood and admired your mate’s beauty you got reminded once more that it really was the little things that made life special.

Divider by @cafekitsune

[mrsfancyferrari]

Teach Me

Summary: MV1 + “I never had any special tradition for the holidays while growing up,"

Song: It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas by Michael Bublé

Author’s note: Sorry it took so long to release a Christmas fics. Exam mocks are really kicking my ass right now! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 10.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

Christmas had always been a grand affair in your family, an extravaganza of twinkling lights, laughter, and the warm, cinnamon embrace of freshly baked cookies.

From the moment you could remember, your mother would orchestrate a symphony of holiday cheer—everyone involved, from the youngest child to the oldest grandparent, had a part to play.

The joyous chaos of your family’s Christmas Eve traditions was something you cherished, an unshakable foundation of love that enveloped you every year.

But as you sat on the couch, a steaming cup of peppermint hot chocolate cradled in your hands, you watched Max, your best friend, from across the room, use his computer to read his email.

He was staying over at yours for the week since he thought it would be better to stay with someone over the holidays than stay by himself with his cats in Monaco.

His brow was furrowed, tongue poking out slightly as he concentrated; a sight that made you smile. But then he said something that spun your world off its axis.

“I don’t really do much for Christmas,” he remarked, his voice disconnected, as if he were commenting on the weather rather than divulging a piece of his soul.

You looked up, your heart tightening in disbelief. “What do you mean, you don’t do much?” Your voice came out sharper than intended, the surprise and concern mixing into a jumble of emotions that suddenly felt too big for your small living room. “Like… at all?”

Max shrugged, a hint of embarrassment tracing the lines of his face. “I don’t know. My family doesn’t celebrate like that. We might exchange a few gifts, but it’s not a big deal, you know? Just a regular day for us.”

A regular day. The words clanged against your heart like a fallen ornament, shattering the idyllic image you had created of sharing the holidays together.

How could someone not revel in the joy of Christmas?

The traditions, the twinkle of lights, the warmth of family—these were the things that made the season magical.

“Oh,” you whispered, suddenly feeling a chasm form between you. You took a sip of your hot chocolate, not sure how to navigate this unfamiliar terrain.

Your childhood memories flooded your mind—caroling with your neighbors, the ritual of finding the perfect Christmas tree, and the way your father would always bungle his lines while reading ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas.

Max must have felt the shift in the air; he looked up, catching the troubled expression on your face. “Is it weird that I don’t celebrate?” He gave you a small, tentative smile, as if he were trying to gauge your reaction.

Your heart thudded, and the truth hung dangerously on the tip of your tongue. Could you accept this about him? “Um, no… it’s just… It’s really important to me.”

You weren’t sure how to articulate the depth of your feelings, the nostalgia that struck you like a cold wind at the thought of a muted Christmas devoid of celebration.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“No, Max, I’m sorry,” you interjected. “It’s not your fault. I guess I just expected… well, more.”

Turning away to hide your emotions, you felt a tightening in your chest. You wondered if it was possible to bridge the gap between two worlds so different.

To you, Christmas was warm hugs and laughter, while to him, it was merely an ordinary day.

As you both continued to watch the show on the TV in silence, a plan began to form in your mind.

What if you could share your Christmas with him? What if you could envelop him in the warmth of your family’s traditions, guide him through the whirlwind of what the holiday truly meant to you?

That night, you stayed up late, tossing and turning, rehearsing the idea in your mind like an actor preparing for a role.

The next day, you broached the topic over breakfast.

“Max,” you started, tentative but hopeful, “what if you joined my family this Christmas? We have so many traditions, and it would be amazing to share them with you.”

You watched closely as he took a bite of his toast, the surprise etched on his face like the designs on your family’s old holiday plates.

“Are you sure?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “I don’t want to crash your family’s holiday. It sounds like it means a lot to you.”

“It does,” you replied, leaning forward, excitement building. “But I want to share it with you. I want you to experience Christmas through my eyes.”

After a moment, his expression softened, and a smile appeared. “Okay, if you really want me there, I’d love to join,” he said, his initial hesitancy fading away beneath the glow of your enthusiasm.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a rosy glow across the sky, your phone buzzed with a call from your parents. You picked it up, expecting a routine check-in, but it was a little different this time.

“Hey, honey!” your mom chirped on the other end. “We were hoping you could come over and help us decorate the Christmas tree.”

“Sure! But is everything okay?” you asked, noting a tinge of urgency in her voice.

“It’s your dad,” she said, lowering her voice. “His back has been acting up again, and he insists he can’t be on his feet too long. I’d hate to do it all by myself.”

You chuckled, picturing your dad stubbornly trying to avoid any heavy lifting, even if it meant sitting on the couch, grumbling about the decorations.

“Alright, I’ll be there soon. Do you mind if I bring Max along? He’s been staying with me for the holidays, and quite frankly, he’s getting a bit bored.”

“Of course! The more, the merrier! I’m sure he’ll love it!” she replied, her voice brightening. “See you in a bit!”

The pungent aroma of gingerbread wafted through the air as you stirred a pot of simmering cocoa on the stove. Christmas music played softly in the background, intermingling with the sounds of Max fumbling around in the kitchen.

“Max! Do you want to go help decorate my parents’ tree?” you called out, trying to be heard over the clinking of dishes and the low hum of the music.

He appeared at the kitchen doorway, a puzzled expression on his face. “Are you sure I won’t ruin it for you? I hardly know anything about Christmas,” he replied, wringing his hands, suddenly self-conscious.

“Max, relax! It’s about having fun, not just making it look perfect,” you assured him, a grin spreading across your face. “Besides, my dad’s back is acting up, and they could use an extra pair of hands. It’ll be good for us both to get out of the house and do something festive.”

He seemed to mull it over, a slight furrow forming on his brow. “Alright then, let’s go,” he said with a sigh, walking back to finish putting the remaining cookies on sheets for baking.

Once you two arrived at your parents' cozy two-story house, the inviting glow of warm lights twinkled through the windows, making it feel even more like a holiday wonderland.

The scent of pine filled the air as you stepped inside. Your mom greeted you with a wide smile and a warm embrace.

“Thank you for coming, you two! I’m so glad you could help,” she said before turning to her husband, who was gingerly stretching his back on the sofa.

You pulled back slightly to face her, noticing her festive sweater with reindeer prancing across the front. “Of course! We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you replied, a smile creeping onto your face.

As you glanced toward your dad, you caught him gingerly stretching his back on the sofa. He grunted softly, rubbing at a spot just above his hips. “I’m fine! Just did a little too much holiday decorating, that’s all,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Hello, Y/N's mom and dad," Max said shyly, standing a bit awkwardly with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He had only seen your parents twice before, and each time was a whirlwind of excitement and nerves for him.

“Max! It’s so wonderful to see you again,” your mom chirped, immediately stepping over to him, arms open. He hesitated for just a moment, but then accepted her hug, easing slightly as she welcomed him with warmth.

“What happened, Dad? Did you lift something heavy?” you asked as Max and you set your jackets down on the coat rack.

“Just a little heavy lifting here and there,” your dad said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You know, moving boxes up to the attic and making sure the Christmas lights are all working. I might have overdone it, though.”

“Remember last year?” you teased. “When you insisted you could get that giant inflatable snowman by yourself?”

“Hey! That snowman was a real battle. But look how magnificent he was once I got him set up!” he countered, puffing his chest out with pride.

You chuckled, knowing that the holiday spirit always brought out the competitive side of your father. “This year, let’s take it easy.” you suggested.

“Me and Max will put on the rest of the tree decorations, so you two go and rest,” you playfully ordered, a grin spreading across your face.

You gestured towards the mound of glittering ornaments and fairy lights that lay waiting to be hung, an assortment of memories collected over the years.

Your mom chuckled softly as she helped your dad, who was trying to rise from the couch. “Thanks, you two,” she said, glancing back at the tree adorned with half-placed baubles.

She spared a loving look at your dad, her eyes shimmering with tenderness, before leading him to their bedroom. “We’ll just take a quick nap, and then we’ll join you for hot cocoa.”

“I’ll hold you to that!” you called after her, the aroma of chocolate baking wafting through your kitchen.

Just as the door clicked shut behind you, Max stepped into view, his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his green hoodie.

“Alright, Max,” you said, taking a step back to admire the bare pine tree. “What do you think? Are you ready to decorate?”

Max looked up at the tree, its branches heavy with potential. “It’s, um, a lot taller than I expected,” he said, scratching his head. His light brown hair flopped over his forehead as he shifted on his feet. “How do you even start?”

You chuckled, feeling a sense of amusement and excitement bubbling up inside of you. “Well, for me, it starts with the lights. You can’t have a Christmas tree without lights!”

“Lights? Like, the kind that twinkle?” His wide-eyed expression radiated a mixture of intrigue and skepticism.

“Exactly! And they’re the best part.” You walked over to the box where the twinkling fairy lights lay coiled. “Here, hold this end,” you said, handing him one end of the string of lights. “Watch closely, and you might just learn a thing or two.”

Together, you two draped the lights around the branches, winding them carefully to imitate a gentle cascade. Despite his initial uncertainty, Max followed your lead, and you were surprised at how quickly he picked up the rhythm.

As you worked, you thought about how different this was for him. “So, Max, what do you usually do at this time of year?”

He paused, biting his lip as if recalling a distant memory. “Um, not much, really. My family just… doesn’t celebrate anything during the winter. My parents went away on a business trip last Christmas, and it was just me and my video games.”

You frowned. “That sounds kind of lonely.”

“Yeah, it was,” he admitted with a small shrug. “I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to do something festive, though. Like… this.”

He gestured at the lights you were hanging, and a little smile broke through. “It’s different. Good different.”

“Good!” you smiled back, feeling your heart warm. “I love that you’re getting to experience it with me.”

You finished hanging the lights, and you stepped back to admire your work. “Alright, next we get to hang the ornaments! These are my favorite part.”

You pulled out the box filled with ornaments, some homemade, some collected over the years. Each ornament held its own story.

“Whoa, look at this one,” Max said, holding up a glass snowman that sparkled as he tilted it in the light. “What’s the story behind it?”

With a nostalgic sigh, you took a seat on the floor surrounded by ornaments. “Oh, that one! My grandmother made it when I was little. She used to tell me that if we hang it on the tree, it would keep us safe from snowstorms.”

Max looked at you, his brows furrowed. “Safe from snowstorms? Does it… work?”

You laughed, feeling the warmth of memory wash over you. “To be honest, I’m not sure, but it makes me feel good to have it there. It reminds me of her, and Christmas is about holding onto those memories, right?”

Max nodded thoughtfully, placing the ornament on a branch. “I think I understand. It’s more than just decorations; it’s about the people and the moments.”

“Yes! You’re getting it!” you cheered, feeling the joy of sharing this tradition take root in your hearts. As you continued to hang the ornaments, you noticed how Max’s fingers brushed over each one, examining them as if they were precious relics.

“What’s this one?” he asked, lifting a shiny red ball with a silver ribbon tied around it.

“That’s one I made in art class when I was in fifth grade. I was so proud of it! Can you imagine?” you grinned, remembering the day you came home with it in hand.

“It looks nice,” Max said, his admiration genuine. “You were pretty crafty back then,”

“Still am!” you shot back, playfully nudging him with your elbow. “Just wait until you see the tree when it’s all done.”

As you continued to hang each ornament, you began to chat more about your families, your interests, and the things you two loved. With each conversation, the air filled with laughter and anticipation.

“Are we really putting up the angel this year?” he asked, glancing over at you with a teasing smirk.

“Of course! It’s tradition,” you insisted, a firm look on your face. After all, it was important to maintain the little things that connected your world, your friendship. “You know we can’t let it down.”

Max chuckled, and the sound was like a breath of fresh air. “All right then, but I’m the one who usually puts it on top. It’s kind of my thing.”

You shook your head, a smile creeping onto your lips. “Not this year. I’m doing it. You can help me, but I’m the one putting it on top.”

“Okay, Miss Determination,” he replied, his tone mildly sarcastic, but he stepped aside as you grabbed a wooden stool from the corner of the room.

Your heart raced slightly—not just from the excitement but from a deeper, indescribable atmosphere crackling between you two.

You steadied the stool, glancing back at Max, who was still watching, arms crossed, his expression playful yet somehow, deeply attentive. His gaze held a weight that made your stomach flip, and you could swear there was a beat where the air thickened around you.

You climbed onto the stool, your heart thrumming in your chest like a tiny drum, as you reached for the starry-eyed angel that gleamed at the top of the Christmas tree.

It felt higher than you remembered, and a sense of confidence mingled with a rush of fear surged within you—like standing on the edge of an uncertain cliff.

“Easy there!” Max cautioned, his voice a mixture of concern and amusement. “Maybe I should be doing this.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the tiny thrill that his closeness brought—only a foot separating you now, his breath mingling in the air as he leaned closer.

“Don’t you dare come over here. I’ve got this,” you insisted, waving him off with a playful faux annoyance.

But before you could even register what happened next, the stool wobbled. Your heart jumped as you lost your balance, and instinct kicked in.

You flailed, arms going wide, but before you could topple down completely, a strong hand shot out, grabbing you and pulling you back against him.

“Whoa! I got you!” Max said, surprise mingled with exhilaration in his voice.

You found yourself hanging in the air for a moment, all thoughts of the angel forgotten as Max held you firmly, your feet dangling inches above the ground.

Your heart raced not just from the fall but from the electric intimacy of the moment, your bodies pressed together, the warmth of his body wrapping around you like a blanket.

“Maybe I should have done this part,” he murmured, his face inches from yours.

His gaze held yours, a mixture of playfulness and something deeper, something you both had danced around for so long, unspoken and heavy in the air.

“Okay, okay,” you breathed, a slight embarrassment creeping into you. “Just let me get back up. I can do it.”

Yet, as his arms remained around your waist, you felt an intense flutter in your chest, the world around you fading into a gentle hush.

Everything seemed to slow—a heartbeat, a moment of depth, the shared breath between friends that felt like it could be something more.

“Are you sure?” he asked, brows knitting slightly as he studied your expression, his grip firm yet gentle.

“Just a little higher,” you whispered, and he complied, lifting you just a bit higher up, careful and steady. For a moment, you felt balanced, your body suspended, held securely by him.

With a slight adjustment, you reached for the angel perched above, heart racing.

When you finally grasped the angel in your hands, you could hardly contain your joy. “I got it! Look!” you exclaimed, beaming down at him.

Your smile matched the twinkling lights strung across the room, the room alive with holiday spirit.

“You did it!” He grinned, his eyes sparkling as he gazed up at you. “But let’s see if you can put it on the tree without falling again.”

You took a breath, carefully repositioning to reach the top of the tree without losing your balance, and to your surprise, you did it. You placed the angel right on top, the final touch to an enchanting creation.

As you settled back on the stool, Max’s hands lingered a moment longer on your waist, his eyes locked onto yours in a way that stirred something deep inside you.

“You really are something else,” he said softly, admiration flooding his tone.

You met his gaze, a million words left unspoken, a shared understanding hanging in the air between you. In that moment, amidst the tree, the decorations, and the warmth of the season, you both realized that everything could change—if only you'd take the step to speak what lingered in the silent spaces.

“Max, I—”

His breath hitched, anticipation crackling like the electricity between you.

“You really are something else,” he said softly, admiration flooding his tone.

You met his gaze, a million words left unspoken, a shared understanding hanging in the air between you.

In that moment, amidst the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree, the festive decorations draped lazily across the walls, and the warmth of the season, you both realized that everything could change—if only you’d take the step to speak what lingered in the silent spaces.

“Okay guys, are you almost done? We need to get this Christmas party started!” your mom’s voice rang into the room, cutting through the moment like a loud alarm.

You both jumped, the spell shattered in an instant.

“Yeah, um, right!” you stammered, pulling back slightly from his touch and forcing a smile.

The twinkling lights that had felt so inviting moments earlier now seemed to cast shadows, distorting the possibilities just spoken.

Max raked a hand through his tousled hair, irritation flickering in his eyes. “It’s fine,” he murmured, but it felt anything but fine.

The silence between you swelled with tension, unspoken words echoing in the air.

“Do you think we have enough decorations up? Or should we add more garlands?” you asked, attempting to redirect your racing thoughts.

It was a weak attempt, a desperate grasp for normalcy. But you could feel the distance widening, the moment fading like the last glow of an ember.

Max turned to help you adjust another string of lights, his fingers brushing yours as you worked side by side. “I think it looks great,” he said, though his tone lacked its usual enthusiasm.

His eyes darted around the room instead of settling on you.

“Thanks,” you replied softly, your heart heavy with the words that had been interrupted.

“What’s taking so long?” Your mom poked her head through the doorway, hands on her hips. “You two better hurry up or your father is going to eat all the cookies. And trust me, you know how fast he eats when his back hurts.”

You both chuckled uncomfortably. “We’re almost done!” you called out, exchanging a glance laden with mixed emotions.

As you both trudged into the kitchen, the comforting yet chaotic scent of melted chocolate, vanilla, and a hint of cinnamon greeted you.

Your father sat at the counter, a plate of cookies in one hand and a glass of milk in the other. Crumbs dusted his sweater, remnants of his early encounter with the treats.

“Save some for us, Dad!” you exclaimed, snatching a cookie just out of reach.

You made a mock of your father’s crunching sound like a movie monster, mimicking the terrifying yet silly creatures from the last film you hadn’t quite finished watching.

“‘Save some’ was my plan until your mother left,” he chuckled, taking another bite. Somehow, amidst the crumbs and laughter, he looked both amused and guilty. “Didn’t realize how fast they’d vanish. These cookies? They’re a blessing.”

You rolled your eyes. “I can’t believe you,” you teased, trying to lighten the previously heavy mood, but the weight clung to the air like an unwanted guest. You grabbed a cookie as well, feeling the soft warmth radiating from it.

“Are they good?” Max asked, eyeing the colorful array of cookies, his curiosity mingled with hunger. He reached for one, nosily nibbling on the edge of the plate.

“Epic,” your dad said with a nod, his mouth full. “Even if I say so myself.” He looked down, catching crumbs on his lap.

“Good enough to distract you from your back pain?” you pressed gently, trying to lighten the mood, even if just a little.

Your dad’s laughter faltered for a moment, replaced by a visible glimmer of sorrow, a fleeting reminder of years that brought more than just joyful memories.

“Ah, well, that along with every other distraction I can find,” he replied, his voice tinged with a sadness you could hear but not see, as if every word was a careful piece painted in gray shades.

Just as the silence began to stretch uncomfortably, your mother entered the kitchen, a warm smile brightening her face, although tired lines around her eyes told a different story.

“Everyone’s been out of sorts today. Should we all sit down together?” she suggested, motioning gently toward the living room.

“Sounds good,” you said, stepping back from the cookie plate. “Just let me snag a few more first.” You plucked three more cookies and stuffed them into your pockets, ensuring you were ready for later consumption.

Max smirked at your cookie-stashing antics. “You really think you will need that many for a five-minute stroll to the living room?”

“Hey,” you replied, holding a cookie aloft like a trophy, “you never know when the cookie monster strikes!”

Your dad chuckled again, and the tension broke slightly. “Well, if it gets too frightening, I suppose I can lend you my sweater for protection.” He gestured grandly to the crumbs adorning it.

“However, I warn you, the last person who tried to wear it claimed to have lost a battle with sugar and chocolate.”

You giggled, imagining someone in an epic showdown against a plate of cookies while wearing that sweater. “I’ll take my chances!” you said, confidently slinging a couple of cookies into your pockets before you finally sashayed toward the living room.

As you entered, the glittering Christmas tree sparkled in the dim light, each ornament reflecting both the colorful bulbs and the excitement that filled the air.

The sounds of bells jingled softly, punctuated by the occasional laughter from your mom as she rearranged a hodgepodge of decorations.

You plopped down on the couch, managing to get crumbs on the cushion as you settled in. Max followed, a teasing look still plastered on his face.

“So, what’s the plan now? A cookie feasting or a Christmas carol performance?”

“Why not both?” Max suggested, taking a bite of one of the prized cookies. The sweet explosion of chocolate instantly heightened your holiday spirit. “We could start a new Christmas tradition!”

“Yeah! Cookie caroling!” you exclaimed.

Just then, your mom turned to you with a thoughtful expression. “So, we were thinking maybe you wanted to stay over for Christmas?”

She moved a few ornaments on the tree, her hands deftly arranging them with the care of someone who wanted everything just perfect.

You glanced at Max, who had already raised his eyebrows in surprise. Staying over for Christmas would mean a whole day of festivities, treats, and memories.

But it also meant leaving Max behind if he couldn’t join. A pang of longing shot through you at the thought of him being alone.

“Can Max stay too?” you surprised yourself by asking, your voice light but earnest.

“Of course he can!” your dad chimed in, giving Max a reassuring smile. “We always have room for friends, especially at Christmas.”

Max’s face lit up, a mix of relief and joy spreading across his features. “Really? Thank you for letting me stay,” He leaned back into the couch with a grin, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

Your mom smiled warmly, returning to straighten the tree decorations. “I’ll make sure to set up a cozy spot for you, Max. We’ll even have a hot chocolate station!”

“Whoa, a hot chocolate station?” Max echoed, his eyes widening. “My festive drink dreams are coming true!”

Laughing, you leaned towards him. “Just prepare for my intense marshmallow-to-chocolate ratio. I'm known for going overboard.”

Max chuckled. “I’ll risk it for a cup with you!”

“I just might put extra whipped cream on yours,” you teased.

“Bring it on,” he shot back confidently, but there was a spark of determination in his eyes that made you look forward to a friendly competition. . . .

You were nestled in the guest room at your parents' house, a cozy haven with a view of the holiday lights twinkling just outside the window.

Christmas Eve had always been a special time filled with warmth and nostalgia, but this year, all you could focus on was Max, who was sprawled out on the couch in the living room.

You had invited him over for the festivities, and while it felt good to have him around, a worry gnawed at you—was he cold out there?

As you snuggled beneath the blankets, the fluorescent glow of string lights outside painted the walls in a soft, warm hue.

‘He’ll be fine,’ you reassured yourself. ‘It’s just one night.’ Yet the thought of him alone, wrapped in a blanket that could barely keep him comfortable, stirred restlessness within you.

You wanted to go out and offer him a cozy spot next to you, but you didn’t want to disturb him, especially if he managed to finally drift off.

After an hour of tossing and turning amidst visions of reindeer and jingling bells, you heard a soft knock at the door.

Your heart raced, mingling excitement with a touch of anxiety. Slowly, you swung the door open and there he was, Max, standing there with his fluffy pillow tucked under one arm.

The sight of him was undeniably endearing, and you fought the urge to smile like a fool.

“Hey, what’s up?” you asked, trying to keep your voice even. You stepped aside to let him in, noticing how the warm glow of the room contrasted with the chilly air he had brought in with him.

“I… just couldn’t fall asleep,” he admitted, looking down at his feet. “I didn’t know if you’d be awake, so I thought I’d check.”

“Oh, well, I’m definitely still awake,” you said, the playful tilt of your lips escaping before you could stop it. “I was trying to catch Santa.”

“Really?” Max’s eyes widened, filled with mock disbelief. “You think Santa’s actually going to show up here?”

“Well, it’s Christmas Eve! Why wouldn’t he?” You plopped down on the edge of your bed, inviting him to sit. “Just because we’re older doesn’t mean we can’t believe. It’s part of the fun!”

Max chuckled, settling onto the floor cross-legged, his pillow still clutched to his chest. “Okay, okay, I get it. But still, how do you plan to catch him? With a camera or something?”

“Maybe,” you said, half-seriously. “I might have some tricks up my sleeve. What about you? What did you think—would you prefer to catch Santa or find out if reindeer actually fly?”

He pondered that for a moment, his brows furrowing in concentration. “Hmmm, that’s a tough choice. I think I’d prefer to see the reindeer fly, actually. I mean, how do they even do it? I’d love to see those little hooves take off!”

“You know, if you stand up and pretend to be one, maybe that’s the secret,” you teased, your heart lifting at the sound of laughter that poured from him. It felt good, this mini-adventure in imagination.

Max shook his head, his smile infectious. “Absolutely not! I’ll leave the magical reindeer business to you, thank you very much.”

“Fair enough,” you said, grinning back at him. The air was lighter now, filled with a playful spirit that made the room feel even cozier. “But I’ve got to ask—are you cold out there on the couch?”

Max’s smile faltered for just a moment. “A little. I wasn’t thinking about that when I decided to crash on the couch, I swear! Just didn’t want to kick you out of your own room.”

“That’s sweet of you, but you can just come here next time if you want,” you offered, feeling a warmth spreading inside you. “There’s plenty of room.”

He glanced at your bed, then back to you. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother.”

Taking in his slightly sheepish expression, you sat up straighter. “You’re not! We can keep each other company while we wait for Santa… or at least talk about whatever silly thing pops into our heads.”

Max’s eyes glimmered with delight. “You know what? That sounds perfect.” He picked up his pillow and moved it to your bed, settling down beside you. “Okay, so how do we catch Santa then?”

“First, we need snacks! Santa loves cookies. We can’t let him go hungry,” you declared, leaping up and heading for the kitchen.

When you returned, you carried a plate stacked high with the best cookies your mom had made—snowflakes, gingerbread men, and festive sprinkle biscuits.

“Wow, you’re serious about this,” Max teased, grabbing a cookie. “Okay, then let’s make a plan. If we take shifts—”

“Shifts?” you interrupted with a gasp, the laughter bubbling over. “We’re not soldiers guarding the North Pole, Max!”

He couldn’t hold back his own laughter. “Okay, fine. No shifts. But how about we set up where we can see the tree and the cookies, and then when someone looks away, the other has to keep a lookout?”

“Deal. And when we catch Santa, you have to promise not to scream,” you added, snickering.

“Like I’d do that,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Okay, I’m going to be the lookout then.”

Minutes turned into hours as the night unfolded beneath the glow of your soft fairy lights, laughter blending with stories and silly reindeer poses.

For the first time that night, the ticking down to Christmas felt less like a wait and more like a cherished moment shared.

You positioned yourself comfortably, but couldn’t help sneaking glances at him. One moment, he caught your gaze, and an unusual silence settled between you. The playful banter slipped away and instead, the warmth in his eyes drew you in.

He leaned a little closer, his voice softening. “You okay?”

“I am,” you said, but your heart raced more from the shift in ambiance than the excitement of catching Santa. The air was somehow charged with a tension that felt both thrilling and terrifying.

Max's gaze lingered on you, and for just a heartbeat, you both held still. You couldn’t ignore the heat rising in your cheeks. Your eyes flickered down to his lips, and you felt a magnetic pull towards him.

For a moment, you thought he might lean in. Then, as if struck by an invisible force, you turned away. “I—sorry, I just…” You stammered, struggling to find your words.

But Max’s eyes, filled with curiosity and a hint of longing, didn’t let you off the hook so easily. “What is it?” he asked gently, his voice low and soothing.

“Nothing!” you rushed out, a laugh escaping that sounded a bit too high-pitched. “I think maybe I just stared at the lights too long.”

“Sure,” he replied, but the playful tone was gone, replaced by something softer, more sincere. “You can tell me, you know. I won’t bite.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady the rapid beating of your heart. “It’s just… really nice, being here with you. I mean, it’s Christmas Eve and we’re supposed to be having fun, but… it feels different this time.”

His expression softened even further, as though he understood completely. “Yeah, I feel it too.”

With a small smile, he shifted closer, letting the comfort of the moment wash over you. “Maybe it’s the cookies or the tree. Or maybe it’s because we’re just getting older.”

Under the thick blanket, you shifted again, settling into the warmth he radiated. “Now come closer; you’re taking all of the blanket,” you teased, nudging him lightly with your shoulder.

Max slowly moved to close the gap, his body edging over but hesitating just a tad as if he feared touching you too much would shatter the serene moment.

“I’m scared,” he blurted, glancing sideways, his cheeks tinged a light shade of pink.

“Scared?” you repeated, surprised. “Of what?”

“Of ruining this, I guess,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “Everything feels so perfect, and I don’t want to mess it up by making a wrong move.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Like what?”

“Making you uncomfortable,” he said. He drummed his fingers nervously on the blanket. “What if I lean too far, or what if I say something silly and it turns this into one of those moments where you laugh uncomfortably because you’re not sure how to react?”

“I wouldn’t laugh at you,” you replied earnestly, shifting so you could look at him properly. “And even if you said something silly, we’d just laugh it off, right?”

He looked at you with soft brown eyes, gauging the sincerity in your expression. “You promise?”

“Absolutely,” you said, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest. “Why would I want to ruin this either? I like where we are, Max. It feels… right.”

“I just…” he paused, the weight of his thoughts hanging in the air, “I like being around you. You make everything lighter. But I don’t want to push you away.”

You leaned closer, feeling the thud of your heart echo in the space between you. The bottle of uncertainty that had been keeping both of you at bay began to crack. “It’s okay; you’re not pushing me away. I want you here.”

The tilt of your head must have been inviting enough, because he shifted in closer, the gap between you dissolving like morning mist. He was tentative, still afraid of breaking the moment, but the warmth you felt was from more than just the blanket.

“See?” you said softly as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Not so scary, right?”

“I guess not,” he chuckled, relief flooding his features. “But I just can’t help it; I keep thinking about how everything could change. What if it goes wrong?”

“Max,” you said, resting your head against his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne, “worrying about what might happen keeps you from enjoying what’s happening now. Isn’t that what people do? They get so lost in what’s next that they forget to appreciate what they have?”

His silence was contemplative as he pulled you a fraction closer, the warmth of him wrapping around you like the blanket. “You’re right. I guess I just really want this to last… us.”

Your heart fluttered at his words. The vulnerability in his tone was striking, and it planted a seed of hope within you. “So, let’s just be in this moment,” you suggested, draping the blanket more tightly around your bodies.

“Here and now. No expectations. Just us.”

He nodded slowly, and for a moment, the sound of snow became the soundtrack of your cocoon. Slowly, his fingers brushed against yours, a gentleness that sent a ripple of warmth through you.

A smile broke across his face, one that sent warmth through you like the first rays of sun after a long, cold night. “Sounds perfect,” he said, his voice deepening in that way you had come to adore.

You settled back against him, draping the soft blanket more tightly around your bodies. The fabric felt like a cloud, cocooning you in a protective bubble.

Outside, the snow continued its gentle descent, each drop creating a soft symphony that seemed to echo the beats of your hearts.

He fell silent for a moment, and you watched as he closed his eyes, letting the rhythm of the snow wash over him. “I wonder how many people wish for this,” he mused, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“I think a lot,” you replied softly, feeling the weight of his words linger in the air. “But it’s ours. We shouldn’t take it for granted.”

The two of you settled into a comfortable silence, as peaceful and inviting as the sound of the snow against the window. You felt yourself beginning to relax, lulled by the warmth of him, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoing against your cheek where it rested.

Your eyes fluttered closed, and you let out a long, slow breath, feeling the world around you begin to fade away.

“Stay with me,” he murmured, sensing your drift towards slumber.

“Always,” you replied, feeling your eyelids grow heavier. In the sanctuary you had created, enveloped in warmth and affection, you allowed the quiet to take over as your thoughts turned hazy.

And with that, you drifted into a peaceful sleep, the comfort of his presence, the shelter of the blanket, and the soft patter of the snow wrapping you both in a cocoon of tranquility.

Here, in this moment, everything was right, and your hearts whispered promises that could span across a lifetime. . . . .

You woke up to the gentle thrum of a heartbeat against your ear, warmth enveloping you fully. The sound brought you back slowly to the present, and you smiled as you remembered where you were.

The faint smell of pine and cinnamon wafted through the air, intermingling with the warmth of the blankets draped over you.

You were home, nestled in bed beside him, accompanied by the soft glow of fairy lights strung around the room.

Turning slightly, you found him still beside you, his arms wrapped around you in a secure embrace. His chest rose and fell rhythmically beneath your head, and his breath sounded deep and peaceful.

You cherished this moment like the most precious gift, knowing that today was Christmas Day.

You smiled at the thought and snuggled a little closer, feeling the sleep still clinging to your eyelids. "Merry Christmas," you whispered, not wanting to disturb the beautiful serenity of the morning.

He stirred a little, pulling you even closer. "Mmm, Merry Christmas," he murmured, his voice husky from sleep.

He tilted his head to meet your gaze, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “What time do you think it is? Do you think your parents are up yet?”

You chuckled softly, nudging him playfully. “Probably not. They’d sleep in on Christmas morning if they could."

Max’s smile widened. “Well let’s not disturb them then and do our own breakfast,” he suggested with a conspiratorial glance. “And maybe make some breakfast for them so they like me more.”

“Max, they love you, you know that,” you said, feeling your cheeks heat slightly.

Calling Max your friend felt wrong, like a poorly matched puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit. In your heart, he was so much more, but the boundaries were intricate and tangled, built over years of friendship, laughter, and unspoken affection.

“My parents don’t usually agree to let a friend stay over at Christmas. You’re special.”

He tilted his head, his playful demeanor shifting to something more serious. “Really? That’s sweet of them. But honestly, I want to make a good impression. Christmas breakfast is a big deal, right? In a ‘you have to impress your parents’ kind of way?” He rolled his eyes in mock exaggeration.

You laughed, pushing your hair back from your face. “Okay, fine. What do you have in mind?”

Max hopped up from the edge of your bed, a spark of enthusiasm in his steps. “I can handle the pancakes if you get the eggs and bacon. And maybe we can sneak in some hot chocolate?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you agreed, reluctantly swinging your legs over the side of the bed. “But we have to be quiet. They’re definitely still asleep.”

“Shh, we have to be silent,” he declared dramatically, mimicking a ninja as he tiptoed toward the kitchen.

You followed him, amusement bubbling up inside you at his antics. Entering the kitchen, you were greeted by the familiar scent of pine from the Christmas tree, twinkling lights reflecting off the walls.

Max opened the fridge with exaggerated care, peering inside as if it were a treasure chest.

“Eggs and whatever this is,” he said, pulling out a carton that looked slightly dubious, but then again, you didn't remember buying much food lately.

You rolled your eyes. “That was from Thanksgiving. Let’s stick to the basics.”

Max pretended to ponder for a moment. “And let’s not poison your parents on Christmas morning.”

With a soft laugh, you got to work, gathering the ingredients for the breakfast spread. The soft sound of sizzling bacon filled the kitchen as you heated the skillet, and Max enthusiastically began mixing pancake batter in a bowl.

After some time, your kitchen transformed into a makeshift restaurant, with pancakes stacked high, bacon sizzling, and eggs brightening the countertop.

You’d managed to quiet the noise, but you couldn’t hold back your laughter at the two of you trying to balance plates on the way to the table.

“Okay, moment of truth,” Max said, placing plates down at two seats, making sure they were perfectly aligned. “How do we make this secretly magical?”

You raised your eyebrows, then added, “Hot chocolate on the side?”

“Genius!” he proclaimed, quickly pouring hot chocolate into two mugs adorned with marshmallows. “You’re not just a pretty face, you know.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart fluttered at the compliment. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Max,” you replied playfully, unable to hide your smile.

Just as you both sat down to toast the moment, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway. You shot Max a frantic look, and he quickly grabbed a pancake, stuffing it in his mouth as if caught in the act.

“Surprise!” your mother exclaimed, walking into the kitchen, her eyes wide with delight. “What’s all this?”

You exchanged guilty glances, but Max, ever the charmer, grinned with a mouth full of pancake. “Just trying to make Christmas breakfast a real deal. Hope you’re hungry!”

“And great pancakes, if I may add,” you chimed in, feeling your heart race. “And bacon! Can’t forget about baked bacon.”

Your dad appeared beside your mother, his scruffy morning hair adding to his amusement. “Wow, you two really outdid yourselves!” He looked between you and Max, clearly impressed.

Feeling the heat rise in your cheeks, you glanced at Max, who was now smirking, clearly enjoying the attention.

“Well, maybe, by making breakfast, they’ll include me in the family from this point onward,” he said, his eyes dancing with mischief.

You chuckled, nudging him again. “You already are family, you know that right?”

Max locked eyes with you, and for a brief moment, the teasing banter faded into something more sincere. “Yeah, I guess,” he said softly, his smile less about jesting and more about truth.

Your parents settled at the table, and soon enough, the jovial atmosphere filled the room as laughter and shared stories surrounded you.

Even amidst the festive spirits, you and Max shared fleeting glances and quiet smiles, both unsure whether to acknowledge what lingered just beneath the surface.

As bacon sizzled and your parents marveled at the pancakes, you felt a warmth in your heart.

"So, as you know, we're hosting the Christmas party this year," she said, her voice bright and cheery despite the busy atmosphere. "It's going to be crowded before it’s 4 PM."

You looked across the table at Max, who was focused on his plate but seemed to be listening intently. "You don’t mind that, right?" you asked him, your heart racing slightly.

It wasn’t just your parents who would be attending; they had invited family friends, neighbors, and even some of your old schoolmates.

Max looked up, a friendly smile breaking across his face. "No, it’s fine! More the merrier," he replied, taking a big bite of pancake as if to emphasize his nonchalance.

After breakfast, your mother handed you and Max a box of decorations that had been stored away for the season. "Here! You two handle the living room. Make it festive!" she called, already disappearing into the next room.

You and Max exchanged glances, and you both laughed at the same time. "Looks like it’s just us," you said, a hint of excitement in your voice.

"Let’s make this place sparkle!" Max exclaimed, grinning as he opened the box to reveal an array of ornaments, garlands, and twinkling fairy lights.

As you began to decorate the room, you found yourself instinctively reaching for a shimmering silver garland. You draped it across the mantelpiece, wishing to give it a touch of elegance.

Meanwhile, Max was busy attempting to untangle a giant string of lights, a comical frown on his face.

"I'm telling you, these lights have a grudge against us," he said, huffing slightly as he pulled on the cords.

You laughed, shaking your head. "Need a hand, or are you determined to battle the lights alone?"

He raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in his eyes. "I can handle this. Just you wait!"

He managed to get one long string untangled and triumphantly held it up. "See? Success!"

"You are the hero of light untangling!" you declared, clapping your hands dramatically.

As the afternoon wore on, you took a break to change into your dress. You’d chosen a deep green one that flowed elegantly around your knees. Standing in front of the mirror, you adjusted the neckline and twirled once to see the fabric swirl around you.

When you stepped out of your room, you spotted Max walking past with a box filled with more decorations. He froze, his gaze sweeping over you as if trying to gauge your outfit.

"Is it too much?" you asked shyly, suddenly feeling vulnerable under his watchful eye.

"No, it’s fine! You look beautiful, I promise," he assured you, his voice steady and sincere. That made your heart flutter a little.

“Thank you,” you said softly, a smile creeping onto your face.

Max cleared his throat, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks. "I mean it. You always look great."

As the clock approached 4 PM, guests began to arrive. The house filled with laughter and the sounds of holiday greetings. Your parents mingled with guests, ensuring everyone felt at home.

“Wow, look at this place,” Max said, his voice barely audible over the joyous chatter. He stood close beside you, his eyes wide as he took in the familiar surroundings that were brimming with memories.

“Yeah, it’s a little chaotic,” you admitted, your gaze drifting toward the swarm of guests. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Today, especially, you were thankful for Max's presence as anxiety began to creep in with each arrival. He didn’t know anyone else here, and his nervous energy mirrored yours, though he was determined to keep you company.

“Maybe we should find somewhere quieter?” he suggested, but just as you were about to agree, a voice rang out from the doorway.

“Hey, Y/N! Haven’t seen you in forever!” It was Blake—standing with a group of his friends, their smug expressions painted in the crackling light of holiday cheer.

Your heart sank. What was he doing here? Memories of the past flooded back—the bullying, the harsh teasing. You instinctively took a step back, bumping into Max, who looked worried.

“Should I get them out?” he whispered, concern creasing his brow.

“No... it’s okay,” you muttered, though your heart raced. There was a part of you that hoped this time would be different. Maybe Blake had changed.

“Blake!” you said, forcing a smile. “How has it been?”

“Good! Real good! Just finished finals, and I think I aced them all.” He leaned against the doorframe, an uninvited confidence radiating from him. “It’s kind of nice to see you. We should catch up sometime.”

His gaze roamed over you like an echo of the past, pulling at invisible threads that bound you to days long gone.

You could feel Max shift beside you. He subtly positioned his body protectively between you and Blake, his hand casually resting on your waist—something that felt both natural and reassuring.

The gesture worked to ground you, despite the tension that crackled in the air.

“Oh, um, thanks!” you replied, your voice shaky but steadying as you felt Max’s warmth. “I’ve been busy with college. Working a lot too. It’s—really challenging.”

Blake chuckled, his friends joining in the laughter. “You always did know how to balance things,” he said with a wink, his tone flirty. “I bet that’s why everyone is still buzzing about you. You’re always the one who had their life together.”

You forced another smile, but inside you felt uncomfortable under the weight of his gaze.

“I wouldn’t say that,” you replied, trying to redirect the conversation. “What about you? Are you still into basketball?”

“Of course! Can’t get enough of it.” He was enjoying the attention of your classmates who were gathered around—nothing but echoes of their bygone camaraderie. “I could show you some moves later if you want. I mean, I’m pretty good.”

“Maybe I’ll just stick to watching,” you said, with a weak laugh. Your gaze flickered to Max, who still remained a quiet presence at your side, his hand never faltering on your waist.

“Come on, it wouldn’t be the same without you,” Blake persisted, moving closer, his friends egging him on. “We can rekindle old times.”

Just then, Max tightened his grip around you as if to shield you from that unwanted history. “I think Y/N has plans,” he stated clearly. “Right?”

Your heart swelled at his assertion. “Yeah! Plans!” you echoed, grateful for his quick thinking. “We were actually just about to grab some food. Isn’t that right, Max?”

“Absolutely,” he nodded, his eyes locking onto yours with an earnestness that sent warmth through you. It was something you’d been craving since that encounter with Blake began to take an unsettling turn.

“Should I join?” Blake smirked, but your laughter came out more forced than you intended.

“No! I mean, we’re kind of... in a rush,” you insisted, pointing toward the dining room where the food was being served. “Right, Max?”

“Right,” he affirmed, his eyes that twinkled with an inner strength. “Let’s go grab some snacks, Y/N.”

With a half-hearted wave to Blake and his friends, you took Max’s hand, the warmth of his palm igniting an unexpected comfort. You navigated through the crowd, the noise fading into a dull roar behind you.

“Thank you,” you exhaled once you stepped into the quieter dining room, where twinkling fairy lights adorned the table and the table was laden with a spread of delicious food.

“I was worried I’d have to drown in that conversation.”

Max chuckled, his relief evident. “I’ve got your back. Always.”

The atmosphere in the dining room was lighter, filled with the cheerful sounds of your family laughing and sharing stories.

Under a garland of fresh greens and bright red ribbons, you felt enveloped by warmth and safety, especially with Max at your side.

“So tell me more traditions that you guys do on Christmas Day,” Max asked curiously, his bright blue eyes sparkling with excitement as he perched on the edge of the couch.

You could see the warmth of the festive spirit in him, a perfect addition to your family gathering.

You smiled, wiping away a few crumbs from your cookie-laden fingers. “Well, for us, we do Secret Santa where we pick someone’s name and get them something secretly before hiding it under the tree. Oh! And we especially do Christmas karaoke!"

You laughed, pointing at your dad and uncle belting out “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” in exaggerated voices. They were utterly off-key, but it only added to the hilarity.

Max chuckled, the sound making your heart flutter. “I would pay to see that!” he exclaimed.

“Then there’s the mistletoe!” you said, gesturing towards the couple by the entrance who were caught under the hanging sprig of green. “If there are two people under it, they have to kiss.”

You opened your mouth to continue, but before the words could form, Max leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours.

Time stood still. You were caught in that perfect moment until he pulled away, his cheeks turning a shade of pink that nearly matched the holiday décor.

“Uh, what just happened?” you stammered, glancing up only to find a bunch of mistletoe hanging right above you.

Max pointed up with a shy grin. “I figured I’d follow the traditions, you know?”

You couldn’t help the playful smirk that crept onto your lips. “Is that the only reason you kissed me?” You leaned slightly closer, your heart pounding in excitement.

Max's eyes widened as he shook his head. “No, um, not exactly,” he said, his voice a mix of confidence and vulnerability. “I really like you, Y/N.”

A giggle bubbled up from your throat before you could suppress it. “You’re so cute, Max,” you said, your voice light and teasing.

His face turned even redder, and your playful tone hung in the air between you like a promise. “Did I just get friendzoned?” he asked, half-joking but his eyes flickering with uncertainty.

You rolled your eyes with exaggerated dramatic flair. “Nope, I like you too, cutie.” The words flowed out more easily than you had anticipated, but they felt right, resonating with the whirlwind of emotion that had caught you both off guard.

Max's expression shifted, the nervousness giving way to relief and undeniable joy. “Really? You like me?”

“Of course! I mean, we get along so well, and you’re literally the sweetest person I know.”

He smiled wider, the hint of anxiety disappearing from his features, replaced by a twinkling delight. “Wow. Okay, good! So, uh, should we… I don’t know… try that kiss again? Just to really make sure it wasn’t a fluke?”

You laughed, the sound rich and warm like the cocoa in your cup. “Bad idea, Max. What if people see?” But even as you said the words, you felt a spark ignite, compelling you to step closer again.

“Who cares?” he said, his voice bold now. “It’s just mistletoe. And I think it’d be a better story if we kissed again than if we stood here talking about it.” His eyes danced with energy, a hint of mischief.

You couldn’t resist that challenge, not with the way he was looking at you—the spark in his eyes making it impossible to think clearly. “Okay, but if we do,” you said, taking a breath to calm your fluttering heart, “we have to do it right. No awkward pecks.”

“Deal,” he replied, the seriousness of the moment settling between you like a secret shared.

Max grabbed you by your waist and pulled you closer, his sudden boldness catching you off guard.

Surprised, a little noise escaped your lips — a mix of laughter and shock — and you could see the amusement dance across his face. “See? Not so bad, is it?”

You felt warmth flood your cheeks, a blend of excitement and anticipation, as well as the faintest hint of embarrassment. “You’re impossible,” you said, trying to regain your composure, though your heart raced wildly in your chest.

“You have no idea what you’re getting into,” he replied, a playful smirk forming on his lips. “But I’m more than willing to show you.”

“Bring it on,” you challenged, your heart racing with both fear and excitement.

And then, before you could second-guess yourself or back out, you tilted your head back slightly, and your lips met his.

The kiss was an explosion of warmth, as sweet and indulgent as the cocoa you had been sipping. It flickered to life like the crackling fire in the corner, igniting a warmth in your heart that surged straight through to your fingertips.

You melted into him, feeling the world around you fade—the hum of conversation, the clang of glasses, the scent of pine in the air, all of it dimming in the wake of this moment.

Max’s grip on your waist tightened, pulling you even closer. The kiss deepened, and you could feel the steadiness of him against the thrumming chaos of your own pulse. His lips moved against yours with a mix of softness and urgency that sent shivers down your spine.

After what felt like both a blink and a lifetime, you pulled back, breathless. “Wow,” you managed to say, your cheeks flushed as you looked into his eyes, which sparkled with a hint of triumph.

“Wow, indeed,” he echoed, his smile broad and boyish. “You see? Better than just talking about it.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You have no shame.”

“And you’re blushing again,” he pointed out, leaning against the back of the sofa, clearly relishing the moment. “What’s wrong with a little mistletoe magic?”

“Seems like a pretty convenient setup,” you teased, trying to regain your composure. “What if someone walks in?”

“Let them!” Max shrugged, his playful energy infectious. “I’m not ashamed of how I feel about you.” His gaze softened, and for a moment, the noise of the party faded into the background.

“Guess it’s too late to act cool now,” you said, glancing around the crowded room, where your parents were happily mingling with friends and relatives.

“Merry Christmas to me, looks like I got my present,” you added, winking at him.

“Think your parents will approve?” Max's eyes danced with mischief as he leaned closer again, just inches from your face.

“They’re going to be thrilled,” you replied, sarcasm lacing your voice. “My mom has been trying to play matchmaker for months. She’s probably already trying to convince my dad to change the seating arrangement for the rest of the night.”

Max chuckled, and suddenly, the surrounding noise blurred into a vague hum as you found yourself lost in his gaze.

“You know,” he said, “I never had any special tradition for the holidays while growing up. But after today, I think I’m ready to spend the rest of my days trying to learn your family’s traditions.”

You chuckled, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “Aww man, are you really trying to win my heart?”

“Is it working?” Max asked, his smile widening.

“Maybe,” you teased, brushing a stray hair behind your ear as you tried to suppress a grin.

“Good,” he said, leaning a little closer, the playful glint in his eyes replaced with something more genuine.

“Because I’ve decided I want to experience all the things that make your family special. Like this—” He gestured to your father, who was attempting to sing a holiday tune, completely off-key.

“Yeah, that’s a real highlight,” you replied, laughing.

“I’m serious,” Max said, the warmth of sincerity filling the space between you. “I want to be a part of it all—the cooking, the awkward games, the stories that are told every year. I want to learn why your mom insists on making seven different types of cookies, or why your uncle insists he can beat anyone at charades.”

Your heart swelled at his words. “You really mean that?”

“Absolutely,” he affirmed, taking a step closer, so your shoulders brushed against each other. “You’ve made this horrible week of relentless deadlines bearable just by being you. I can only imagine how wonderfully chaotic it must be at these parties. I want to be part of it.”

Surprised, you looked down at your feet, your cheeks burning. The twinkling lights around the room seemed to echo your racing heart.

“Well, you definitely picked the right night to make such a grand declaration. Keep your expectations realistic, though. My family is… a lot.”

“Bring it on,” he said, his enthusiasm contagious. “I’m ready. Besides, you’re worth it.”

As you sat there in the warmth of your parents’ home, wrapped in laughter, full of acceptance, you realized that this could be the start of something wonderful.

The sparkling lights twinkled with promise, and perhaps, just perhaps, this Christmas would be the first of many with Max by your side. . . . .

[silencesscreams]

"is there any chance i can fix this?" where james and reader are best friends since birth but he begins to pull away and spend less time with her in favor of the boys, so she just cuts him out of her life and after a while he doesn't know how to deal with it anymore. hiiiii

sad beautiful tragic

james potter x fem reader (angst)

a/n: sorry about any grammar mistakes, english isn’t my first language (also i’m pretty bad at writing angst but i tried my best) also immediately thought of the title because of the taylor swift song, so hope you don’t mind the association. also the first kiss part came to my mind because of a tiktok i saw a few weeks ago but i don’t really remember who’s it was to credit them

warnings: friendship distancing, kissing, fighting, cursing, a bit short (sorry), happy ending

“i’m sorry, okay? i’m so sorry, honey, please. is there any chance i can fix this? just tell me, please”

you knew james potter and he knew you. knowing meaning comprehending each other, meaning that you stood by each others side for as long as you can remember.

he was your first friend. he was your neighbor and you both grew up together, it was expected that you both would know each other better than anyone.

sure, it felt different when you both started hogwarts and suddenly he had new friends, but so did you. you spent the time you could together, always saving a bit of your days for each other.

during the sixth to seventh year summer vacation, he had spent the whole summer with you, you both would hang out all the time.

until he kissed you.

it was the last day of summer and you both had spent the evening in his room. you were talking about a book you had been reading recently and he listened quietly, like it was the most interesting thing he had ever heard of. until you paused for a brief moment and he moved closer to you. you were sat on the floor with him, the carpet tickling your legs as you played with the fluffy yarn under you.

“honey” he said, you looked at him, doe eyed waiting for him to continue. “a phrase. two words, six letters, two vowels. guess.” he said lowly whilst looking at your lips. your mind went blank.

one vowel for each word. you still didn’t get it.

“what are the vowels?” you whisper back, he smiles.

“i and e” he answers, not taking his eyes from off of you for a second. you knew.

“kiss me?” and so he did. his lips met yours abruptly, his hands grabbed your hips and yours went straight to the back of his neck. it completely changed the way you ever saw him, hell, it completely changed your expectations to a kiss. it was better than anything you’d ever experienced and you loved it.

when you got back to school, it seemed like he didn’t do that, actually, it seemed like he didn’t even talk to you the whole summer.

sure, he did casually say hello in the halls and you might’ve shared one or two conversations, but what the hell? he kisses you like that and expects you to just forget about it? that was the most fucked up thing anyone could’ve done. as the semester went on, your mind was absolutely torturing you over that kiss.

it made you overthink every single thing you ever did around him. but maybe he didn't have time, maybe he was really busy with his studies and quidditch, right? that was probably it.

he saw you every once in a while, said an awkward hi or whatever that thing signaling head thing he did was.

the crush you had developed for him didn’t help at all. it made you crave his presence in your life, even now that you hated him more than you ever thought you possibly could. you missed his pet names for you, ‘honey’ and ‘sweetheart’ sounded so amazing coming out of his mouth.

but from the moment he started to ignore you, you decided he was absolutely done. he was never going to see a smile coming from you ever again, he was never going to get another hello, nothing. james potter didn’t deserve a single thing from you.

your friends agreed. they thought he was a piece of shit and said you should’ve cut him off a long time before.

life went on without him, you barely thought about him. your studies were going well, everything was great.

christmas break came up and when you saw james at the train station, you were pissed. you knew he was going to be there for christmas dinner, he was always invited alongside with his family. you didn’t know how he was going to act then, was he going to pretend it never happened?

when you got home, your mother instantly started asking you what you wanted for dinner and you were glad to be home, you just hated that he was in the house next to yours.

a few nights after you both got home, you were invited for a date by steven, who worked at a bookstore near the city park. you said yes, he took you to see a shitty movie and tried to kiss you after dropping you off at your front porch. you dodged it and gave him a good night kiss on the cheek. james saw it all.

once the date left, you heard him yelling from his porch:

“who’s that?” you ignored him and went inside, sure, you weren’t going to see steven again but james didn’t deserve to know that.

on christmas day you went to the potter’s for dinner, your parents insisted for you to go, even though you tried to fake being sick. sirius was there too, you politely greeted all of them and didn’t bother to answer james’ “hey”.

when you sat at the side of the living room table james sat next to you, even though that wasn’t his usual seat. you played with your dress awkwardly and ate less, being there was making you so irritated you lost your appetite.

after taking a bite from your dessert, you thanked euphemia for the food and told your parents you were feeling a bit sick and that you were heading home, telling them to enjoy the rest of their night.

as you were opening the door to head out, you heard footsteps behind you. you knew james was there and you had no interest to talk with him.

“don’t” you simply stated, stepping out and shutting the door lightly on him, he followed you during the small walk between both your houses.

“hey!” he shouted, trying to get your attention. you were about to shut the door to your house on his face, but he held it with his foot, going into your house.

he pulled you by your wrist but you tugged it away from him.

“don’t touch me!” you shouted at him, staring into his eyes for the first time that night.

“now you can talk to me, huh? ‘the fucks up with you?!” he shouts back, brows furrowed. you couldn’t believe him, what a fucking nerve he had.

“whats up with YOU?!” you step closer to him, throwing your keys on the coffee table in the middle of the living room. “you’ve ignored me for the whole semester and now you wanna talk?” he had never seen you like this. you had never been this angry at anyone or anything around him.

“i’m sorry?” he had no reaction, he knew he was wrong, he just couldn’t deal with it. with anything. he didn’t know what to do after he kissed you, he couldn’t handle any of it. he knew that if he spent more time around you he would fall harder, he couldn’t risk it.

“i’m sorry! now that you don’t have anyone else near for you to talk to, i’m worthy of your attention? i’m so lucky, right?!” your eyes started to tear up, but you held it in, he was not getting to see you cry.

“honey, i’m sorry i didn’t talk much with you these past few months, but i tried to speak with you tonight and you didn’t even bother to answer me!” he ran his hand through his hair, looking at you as you sat down on the couch, staring at your hands.

“you didnt even look at me. the entire fucking night. one lousy ‘hey’ is not trying to do anything” he handed you a piece of paper, it was crumpled up in his jeans’ pocket. you knew he was bad with words, but the paper was written front and back. what was he even trying to do? did he think a letter was enough to fix the damage he had done?

“really? you’re a little too late for this, don’t you think?” you said, looking at him angrily.

“fine, don’t read it then. just keep it, okay?” he knew you were about to cry. it was the worst feeling he had ever felt.

“you don’t get to do this to me, james” you hold back tears once you say it.

“i know, honey, i know” he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, cupping your face as you try to not melt because of his touch. he kisses you, but this time you pull away.

“no. don’t do this to me” you say, a single tear streaming down your face, he wipes it off but more tears just keep coming

“im sorry, im so sorry for everything i did and-“ you interrupt him.

“could you just try to listen?!” you shout, pulling away from his touch again. “what makes you think that i want this? after all you did, better, all that you didn’t do?! you kiss me and expect me to forget about it? expect me to be okay with you ignoring me all the time just because you kissed me again? i can’t be okay with any of this unless you actually explain to me what happened. i really try to understand you, but all of this doesn’t help!”

“i love you” he says “i have loved you all my life and i didn’t know, after i kissed you it all hit me and i couldn’t trust myself around you anymore, i didn’t want to hurt you so i pulled away, i just didn’t know it would hurt you more like that. i’m sorry, but im here now and i want to show you how much I do love you” he pauses and sits next to you on the couch.

“i’m sorry, okay? i’m so sorry, honey, please. is there any chance i can fix this? just tell me, please” he wipes the tears from off your face again. you knew he meant it, you just didn’t know how to trust him again.

“i don’t know” you whisper, looking into his eyes, you had never seen him look this sad. you wanted to trust him, you really did, but how could you? how could you know he wasn’t going to pull something like that again?

you couldn’t be sure of anything, you could only hope for the best and be careful. so you gave it a shot.

“come here” you say lowly, pulling him in for a hug. he buried his face in the crook of your neck and gave you small kisses.

“i’m so sorry, baby” he whispered.

“i know” you whisper back, he looks at you and gives you quick kisses all over your face. you can’t help but smile.

it was going to take a while for you to trust him again, but you knew you could.

[jisungiesvzz]

Hii I absolutely loves ur fanfic!! Would u mind doing a jeongin version on unexpected?

I'm sorry this took so long to write! I’ve been having heavy workloads from school and I've also had writers block ugh. Anyways, I hope you enjoy :).

Crossing Lines

Idol!Jeongin x fem!reader

Warnings: kissing lessons, making out, neck kissing

Word Count: 2.7k

Author's Note: please let me know if I missed warnings, otherwise enjoy :)

Versions: Hyunjin // Han // Jeongin

—

The afternoon sun streams through Jeongin's apartment windows, casting golden hues across the living room. You sit cross-legged on the floor, a small velvet pouch between your fingers as you rummage through its contents.

"I still can't believe I forgot my jewelry," you sigh, carefully examining a silver chain with a small fox pendant. "You sure you don't mind me borrowing yours?"

Jeongin smiles from his position on the couch, phone in hand as he scrolls through his social media feed, hoping to run across a good hang out spot near you. "What's mine is yours, y/n. Three years of friendship earns you jewelry-borrowing privileges."

Giving him a soft smile, you hold up one of his earrings to the light, a simple silver hoop that catches the sunbeam and sparkles.

"It's scary how well you know me," you laugh, sorting through more pieces. "Like, you knew I'd forget something tonight."

"That's why I always keep extra stuff around for you," he replies, setting his phone down. "I am fully prepared for Hurricane Y/N."

You playfully throw a small cushion at him, which he catches effortlessly. You can't imagine your life without these little moments—the casual hang outs in his apartment, the inside jokes, the way he always seems to understand exactly what you need.

"Hey, remember that truth or dare game at Chan's party last week?" Jeongin suddenly asks, a tint of curiosity in his voice.

You groan, instantly knowing where this was heading. "Please, not this again."

"I'm just saying," he continues, sitting up straighter, "I was surprised when you said you've never been kissed. I mean, you're twenty-two!"

You feel your cheeks warm, lowering your voice to a near mumble. "So? Some people are late bloomers..."

"It's not a bad thing," Jeongin says quickly. "I just... I don't know, I just assumed you had."

You shrug, suddenly finding the jewelry in your hands incredibly fascinating. "I guess I've just never found the right person... or the right moment."

A weighted silence settles between you, unusual in its intensity. You can feel Jeongin's eyes on you, but you can't bring yourself to meet his gaze.

"I could teach you."

The words hang in the air, simple yet earth-shattering. Your head snaps up, certain you've misheard.

"Teach me what?"

Jeongin's expression is unreadable, a mix of nervousness and something else you can't quite place. "How to kiss. If you want."

You feel like the air has been sucked from the room. This is Jeongin—your best friend, the person who holds your hair back when you're sick and who can make you laugh until your sides hurt.

"That would be weird, wouldn't it?" you manage, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugs, attempting nonchalance though you can see the tips of his ears turning pink. "Only if we make it weird. It's just a skill, like teaching someone to drive or cook."

"A skill," you repeat skeptically.

"Yeah," he says, sliding down from the couch to sit across from you on the floor. "And then when you meet someone you actually want to kiss, you'll be ready."

You bite your lip, considering the possibility. The idea sends butterflies swarming through your stomach, but there's also a strange sense of... curiosity.

"Nothing would change between us?" you ask cautiously.

Jeongin shakes his head firmly. "Nothing. We're best friends first, always. This would just be me helping you out."

You take a deep breath. "Okay."

"Okay?" His eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"Yes. Teach me." You confirm, your heart pounding through your chest.

Jeongin moves closer, his movements careful and deliberate. "So first, it helps if you face each other," he explains, his voice lower than usual.

You readjust your position, suddenly hyperaware of every inch of space between you and him. The jewelry laying forgotten on the floor beside you.

"Usually there's eye contact," he continues, and you force yourself to meet his gaze. His eyes—those familiar eyes you've looked into a thousand times—now seem different, deeper somehow.

You tried convincing yourself that it’s just kissing lessons but something about kissing him feels more intimate than it should.

"Then what?" you whisper.

"Then, one person usually leans in. Sometimes both." His hand comes up to gently brush a strand of hair from your face, and you feel your breath catch. "Sometimes there's touching. Like this."

His fingers trace a feather-light path along your jawline, coming to rest at the nape of your neck. The sensation sends shivers down your spine.

"And then?" Your voice is barely audible now.

Instead of answering, Jeongin leans forward, closing the distance between you. His lips press against yours, gentle and questioning. Your eyes flutter closed instinctively, your hand tentatively reaching up to rest on his shoulder.

The kiss is soft, a brief moment of connection that ends almost as quickly as it began. Jeongin pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours.

"That's the basics," he says, his voice rough around the edges. "A simple first kiss."

You nod, unable to form words. Your lips tingle where his had been, and you find yourself wanting more—a realization that both thrills and terrifies you.

He's your best friend. Right…?

As if reading your thoughts, Jeongin speaks again. "Then there are... deeper kisses."

"S-show me..." you whisper, surprising yourself with your boldness.

This time when he leans in, there's an urgency that wasn't there before. His lips capture yours more confidently, one hand cradling your face while the other slides around your waist, drawing you closer. You respond instinctively, your fingers tangling in his hair, gently tugging at the strands.

What started as a lesson quickly transformed into something neither of you anticipated. The kiss deepened and you feel yourself being gently guided backward until you're lying on the floor, Jeongin hovering above you, your lips never parting.

When you finally break apart, both breathing heavily, you stare up at him in wonder. His hair is disheveled where your fingers have been, his eyes dark and intense.

"Innie…" you breathe, not knowing what else to say.

Without a word, he dives right back in, capturing your lips with a newfound hunger. There's no hesitation now, his movements filled with a hunger you’ve never seen before — his body pressing down against yours making you gasp into his mouth. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, any thoughts of keeping distance between you long forgotten.

"There's more I can teach you," he murmurs against your lips, his voice husky with want. Before you can respond, his mouth begins to trail along your jawline, leaving a path of fire in its wake.

"Different types of kisses," he explains between soft pecks along your skin, "are for different sensations."

Your breath hitches as his lips reach the sensitive spot just below your ear. Instinctively, your head tilts to give him better access, your fingers tightening in his hair.

"Like here," he whispers, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. Then his lips press against your neck, gentle at first, then with increasing pressure. The sensation is entirely new to you, electric pulses shooting through your body with each kiss.

"Innie," you gasp, overwhelmed by the feeling.

His hand slides up to cradle the other side of your neck, a small smile forming on his lips at the nick name as his thumb gently strokes your cheek, his kisses become more intense. You feel the gentle graze of his teeth, followed by the soothing warmth of his tongue against your pulse point, a soft moan falling from your lips as he repeated the action.

"Some people," he murmurs against your skin, "are more sensitive here than on their lips." As if to demonstrate, he places an open-mouthed kiss at the space where your neck meets your shoulder, causing you to arch involuntarily against him.

You're lost in sensation, any remaining thoughts about this being just a lesson completely gone. Your hands roam across his back, pulling him closer as he continues his thorough exploration of your neck.

When he finally returns to your lips, the kiss is different—deeper, more confident, as though he's staking a claim. You respond with equal fervor, the taste of him now familiar yet intoxicating.

As Jeongin pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, a small smile plays at his lips. "So," he says softly, "how was your first lesson?"

"I- I don't know what to say," you softly gasped, still recovering your breath.

Placing a soft peck on your lips, he sits up off the ground, gently taking your hand in his. "Come on. Let's go finish our original plans for the day."

Heart beating through your chest, you let him guide you off the ground and through the front door — the heated moment hanging in the air. A small part of you wishing it hadn't ended.

—

The next evening, you were in Stray Kids' dorm, squeezed comfortably between Jeongin and Hyunjin on the large sectional sofa. Chan had insisted on a movie night—something about needing to unwind after their intense practice schedule—and naturally, as Jeongin's best friend, you were included in the invitation.

What the others don't know is how everything changed between you and Jeongin just twenty-four hours ago.

The memory of his lips on yours, on your neck, makes your cheeks flush even now. You've spent most of today exchanging knowing glances, the anticipation of seeing him again had your stomach in knots all day.

"Everyone good with the movie choice?" Chan asks, remote in hand as he navigates through Netflix.

You barely register what film he selected—some action thriller the group has been wanting to watch. All you can focus on is Jeongin's proximity; the subtle scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating from his body next to yours.

"Y/N, want some?" Felix offers you the bowl of popcorn from across the coffee table.

"Thanks," you murmur, reaching for it. As you settle back with the bowl, Jeongin shifts closer, his thigh now pressed firmly against yours.

The lights dim as Chan starts the movie. Under the cover of darkness, Jeongin's hand finds yours, his fingers intertwining with yours between your bodies where no one else can see. Such a simple touch shouldn't send your heart racing, but after last night, everything is different.

Twenty minutes into the film, you're not following the plot at all. How could you, when Jeongin's thumb is tracing lazy circles on the back of your hand? When his breath occasionally tickles your ear as he leans over to whisper some joke about the movie?

By the thirty-minute mark, his hand had moved to your knee, resting there casually as though it belongs. The weight of it burns through the fabric of your jeans.

Halfway through the movie, during a particularly intense action sequence that has everyone's attention fixed on the screen, Jeongin's hand begins to move. Slowly, torturously, his fingers trace upward along your thigh, just far enough to make your breath hitch, gently squeezing the flesh.

You shoot him a warning glance, but the innocent smile he gives you in return is betrayed by the mischievous glint in his eyes. He knows exactly what he's doing.

His hand retreats momentarily when Changbin gets up to refill drinks, but as soon as everyone is settled again, it returns—this time sliding to your inner thigh, his touch feather-light but unmistakably close to where you could feel yourself growing needy. Your body responds immediately, heat pooling low in your abdomen, his hand now venturing into territory that makes your pulse quicken and your thoughts get jumbled up.

When his fingers inch higher, gently squeezing your thigh, you nearly jump. It's too much—the darkened room, his members just feet away, completely oblivious, and Jeongin's touch threatening to unravel you entirely.

"Bathroom," you whisper, standing abruptly. Jisung pauses the movie, looking up at you questioningly.

"Just need a quick bathroom break," you explain, forcing a casual smile. "Don't wait up, I've seen this part."

You slip away from the living room, heart hammering against your ribs as you make your way down the hallway. The cool bathroom tiles are a relief under your feet as you close the door behind you, leaning against it and exhaling slowly.

"Get it together," you mutter to yourself, turning to face the mirror — your reflection showing flushed cheeks and bright eyes.

Splashing cold water on your face, you hear a soft knock at the door.

"Y/N?" Jeongin's voice is low, just audible enough for you to hear. "You okay?"

Taking a deep breath, you open the door just enough to see him standing there, concern etched across his features—though the darkness of his eyes tells another story.

"I'm fine," you whisper. "We should get back before they—"

Before you can finish, Jeongin has slipped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The bathroom suddenly feeling much smaller with him in it, the air between you charged with tension.

"What are you doing?" you ask, voice sounding small.

"I couldn't help myself," he admits, closing the distance between you. "Sitting next to you, not being able to really touch you... it's driving me crazy."

"Your members are right outside," you remind him, even as your body betrays you by leaning toward his.

"They're absorbed in the movie," he counters, his hands finding your waist. "Besides, I told them you weren't feeling well and I was checking on you."

"And they believed that?"

A small smile plays at his lips. "Felix gave me a knowing look, but the others are clueless."

Your protest dies in your throat as Jeongin presses you gently against the wall, his body flush against yours. Any restraints from before evaporated into thin air as his lips capture yours in a kiss that's hungry and desperate.

Your hands immediately find their way into his hair, pulling him closer as his tongue meets yours. This isn't the careful instructional kiss from yesterday—this is raw need, months of pent-up desire finally breaking free.

"I've been thinking about this all day," he murmurs against your lips, his hands sliding under the hem of your shirt to touch and squeeze the bare skin at your waist. "About you."

Your response is lost as his mouth moves to your neck, finding the sensitive spots he discovered yesterday. The sensation pulls a soft moan from you, which Jeongin quickly silences with another kiss.

"Quiet," he whispers, a teasing glint in his eye. "Unless you want everyone to hear."

The thought of being caught should terrify you, but instead, it only heightens everything—the racing of your pulse, the heat of his touch, the urgency of your kisses.

His hand slides back to your thigh, higher than he dared in the living room, his fingers tracing patterns that make your breath catch. When he presses his hips against yours, you can feel exactly how much he wants you.

"Innie," you gasp as his lips find a particularly sensitive spot below your ear.

“Fuck, y/n.” he grumbles against your neck, softly nipping and licking at the skin there, eliciting more moans from you.

“Innie, ngh, you’re gonna l-leave marks,” you whined, your defiance falling short as you arched into him.

“We should stop,” he mumbles between open mouthed kisses.

You both knew you should, but neither of you make an effort to move.

A sudden knock on the door makes you both freeze.

"Y/N? Jeongin?" It's Chan's voice. "Everything okay in there? Movie's almost over."

Removing himself from your neck, Jeongin clears his throat. "We're fine, hyung. Y/N just felt a little dizzy. We'll be out in a minute."

"Okay," Chan replies, though you can hear the question in his tone. "We're thinking of ordering food after."

Footsteps retreat down the hallway, and you both release the breath you've been holding.

Jeongin's forehead drops to yours, a small laugh escaping him. "That was close."

"Yeah," you let out breathy laugh. "We should get back."

He nods, stepping back reluctantly, but not before pressing one more lingering kiss to your lips. "This isn't over yet," he promises, his voice low with intention.

As you straighten your clothes and Jeongin attempts to fix his hair, you catch his eye in the mirror. The boy who was just your best friend yesterday now looks at you with an intensity that makes your knees weak.

"Ready?" he asks, hand on the doorknob.

You nod, knowing that while you're about to return to a room full of his members and pretend nothing has changed, everything has. The line you crossed yesterday isn't just crossed—it's been erased entirely, replaced by something new and thrilling and completely uncharted.

As Jeongin opens the door, his hand finds yours for just a moment, giving it a squeeze before letting go. It's a promise of what's to come, once you're alone again.

And suddenly, you can't wait for this movie night to end.

[rizzkisworld]

exes to lovers

pairing: ex!enhypen x gn!reader

genre: fluff, slight angst if you squint

word count: 2.6k (each member is 300-400)

warnings: mention of princess treatment in Jay's(I don't feel like it implies a female reader, but understand if gendered terms make you uncomfy), Sunghoon's is a little depressing, lmk if there's anything else

Ty to my bae Milan ( @kairoot ) for the help💋

reblogs and feedback are appreciated!

Heeseung

Guess I never got over you

There's never a moment in time where he's not thinking of you. Everything reminds him of you. Whenever he's scrolling through pictures on his phone, he always comes across yours. He could never bring himself to delete them. You were just.....his whole world. You were his everything and even though you broke up he could still feel a piece of you somewhere in his heart.

He doesn't even try to get with anyone else. He might go on dates here and there, but nothing goes anywhere. Not because the date was bad, but none of them are you. He only wants you. He doesn't admit it to anyone else, but you're always on his mind every second.

A year without you felt like hell. It was the biggest surprise to see you out while he was running errands. He wanted to be normal, didn't want to approach you and make you feel awkward. But most importantly, he didn't want to expose that he still had heavy feelings for you. He assumed you got over him, probably dating someone else now. He wouldn't be surprised cause you're so amazing. 

He's in total shock when you approach him. There's a smile stuck on his face the entire time. Talking to you felt as if the gloom in his cloudy brain was overtaken by sunshine. You were his sunshine. You'd invite him to get something to eat after figuring out you both hadn't eaten. Was this for real? Is he dreaming?

You never realized how much you missed him until now. The others never satisfied your needs. Never gave you the proper attention he had, stared at you with loving eyes like he had, going out of their way to make you smile on your worst days like he had. You realized then that Heeseung was made for you. Being together may not have been right a year ago, but now, you knew it was the perfect time.

Jay

Never a moment you're not on my mind

Breakups were difficult, we all know this. But your breakup with Jay broke you. You felt as if a part of you left. You felt as if you were drowning in an ocean and he was the only one who could save you. But he wasn't there. At this point you believed life was unfair. Your first valentine's day without him really reminded you how in love you were.

The sweet gestures he would do, the dates he would plan, the gifts he would get, the princess treatment you received. You felt like you mattered to him. You felt like you were special. And you were. He saw you as more than just his partner. The breakup did a lot of damage to his heart as well. Though he wasn't as broken for long like you were, the impact you left on his life was visible. Especially now that you are gone. 

You miss him everyday. There were times you believed you were over him. Times when you believed you were okay. Suddenly everything would come crashing down again. You just knew he was with someone new. Knew he didn't think about you the way you thought about him. Though not to the same extent as you, he did think about you.

Fate. That's how you'd both describe it when you bumped into each other. It was at a concert for a band you both loved. You'd spend so much time gushing over them together when you were dating. Things were extremely awkward. Actually that's an understatement for the tension between you two. It was as simple as a "hi" and a "how are you" before you had parted ways that day.

Little did you guys know that one occurrence was one of many. Suddenly you guys saw each other five times a month. At that point you knew it had to mean something right? The short conversations turned into long ones. All of a sudden you guys were texting? Then calling? Oh this totally meant something. Let's just say a rekindle of the relationship was the next step and it came faster than you could ever imagine. 

Jake

Are we even exes?

The breakup was unexpected....kind of. Jake couldn't handle seeing you hurt, you couldn't handle seeing him that way either. With that being said, you both agreed to be friends. Friends, that was totally all you were. He was totally your ex. It was normal to still talk everyday, cuddle in bed, watch movies together, say "I love you" to each other, and make out. You know, things exes don't do. 

You both swear up and down that you didn't realize you two were still acting like you guys were together. It took your friend to ask you if you got back with him for you to realize the situation. That's when the real breakup happened. You cried for days after cutting things off. Some days you felt fine and then the next you would feel as if a pile of garbage fell on you. 

This sucked. Everything sucked. Everyone sucked. It took months to finally get over him. You had started going on dates again and let Jake completely leave your mind. Life without him was strange at first, but then it became normal. Even when you first saw him again at your mutual friend's party, you weren't fazed. He didn't seem fazed either. In fact, you saw him dancing around with another girl. That had to be his girlfriend right? 

Didn't matter to you though. Strangely enough, that wasn't a one time thing. You started seeing him everywhere. Like legitimately everywhere. Was this a sign? Nah, it can't be. Things changed fast however. At another one of your friends party's you saw him again.

 This time he was alone. He came up to you first. You guys talked for a bit...maybe one hour... actually for the rest of the party. One thing led to another and you both started talking consistently again. You found out that the other girl wasn't his girlfriend and she was just someone he met at that party. Safe to say you two weren't opposed to the idea of trying to work things out.

Sunghoon

Seems like we both can't move on

You always wondered if he still thought about you. You for sure thought about him. Every single day. There was no proper way to describe the hole you felt in your heart without him around. It made you feel as if you didn't cherish the relationship while it lasted.  Little did you know that Sunghoon had thoughts about you. They were never ending. Whenever he tried to focus on other things, you popped back into his mind. 

Something he's embarrassed to admit is that he has dreams about you. He didn't even realize that he stopped going outside much. He spent most of his time in his bed doing nothing, but thinking about you. You were no better. You were someone he could rely on and be raw and honest to. He was someone you could be your most authentic self with.

When you went on dates with other people, that was the one thing you noticed. None of them made you feel safe the way he did. None of them made you laugh the way he did. Were you ever going to find another like him? The first time you had seen him again, you chose to not speak. You wanted to get over him, talking to him wouldn't help. 

Funny enough, Hoon shared that same thought process. He noticed you, but feared speaking with you would make it harder to get over you. He knew it would. The both of you hated to admit, but you both hoped to see each other again. Unexpectedly, it happened again. This time, you couldn't pretend you didn't see him. He couldn't pretend he didn't see you. Because you both locked eyes the moment you saw each other.

He was about to approach you, but his friend called for him before he could reach you. Feeling somewhat hurt, you went home hoping another occurrence like that would happen. You didn't need to hope, though. Your phone buzzed, and when you checked your notifications, he texted you. 'Wanna talk in person...alone?' That was the message. You couldn't leave him hanging. Better yet, you weren't going to. Maybe, just maybe, this time things would go right.

Sunoo

The words friend and ex don't mix

You never imagined that you could still be friends with your ex, but Sunoo was different....or at least you thought. Everything was mutual, so you guys promised there would be no bad blood. What was meant to be something as simple as being cordial, you found yourself still texting and calling him. 

It's not like he was much better either. He picked up all of your calls and called back when he missed them. He responded to all your text messages and eventually found himself going out of his way to message you. 

One thing led to another, and you guys began to hang out again. Realizing how much you missed him, how much he missed you, all of this became a regular thing. Still at that, you told yourself that you were just friends and nothing more. That was until your friend asked you directly if you still had feelings for him. 

Of course you said no, it was impossible for you to catch feelings for your ex again right? Actually no, not at all. What if he didn't feel that way about you? Wondering if you should cut things once and for all, you then receive a message. From him. He wanted to meet with you. Anxious was somehow an understatement for how you felt. 

You knew just as good that you would regret this. You knew he was going to cut things off, so you were preparing yourself. This last time you would spend together felt so bittersweet. You'd be in for a surprise when Sunoo spoke words you didn't know you desperately wanted to hear. "Wanna try us again?" That sweet smile you missed seeing. His delicate voice you missed hearing. Nothing in the world could compare to this moment. "Of course."

Jungwon

Can't escape you

You hadn't seen him since the breakup. It had been about 2 years since it all happened. It took you some time, but eventually you were able to move on from everything.  You weren't necessarily trying to get back in the dating pool. Everytime your friends tried to set you up on a date you told them you weren't ready. The time just didn't feel right.

But has timing ever been on your side? Six months ago you started a new job at a café. It was mainly so you could build your bank up to help pay for your studies. Your coworker had told you the other day that someone new would be working. You did not expect it to be Jungwon. While you were wiping down the counter, you heard his voice. There was no mistaking his voice. "Hey, I'm Ju- oh.." He paused the moment he noticed who you were.

"Hi." You avoided all eye contact with him. Opening hours were coming up in 15 minutes, so you needed to make sure everything was set up. However, you couldn't take your attention away from him. He couldn't take his eyes away from you. You both failed to notice that neither of you moved. That was until the door opened and customers started coming in. From that day on you realized you'd be seeing him a lot.

For the first 3 months of working together you didn't dare speak to him and neither did he dare speak to you. The only words you'd exchange were work related. One day however, oddly enough, Jungwon approached you. Why? You still don't know, but the conversation was pleasant. You got the chance to catch up on each other's lives and share a few laughs. That's all. At least you thought so.

More months passed, and whenever you saw Jungwon you got that feeling. You know, the one where you can't think straight when your crush is around and your heart feels like it's 3 steps away from a heart attack? But you didn't have a crush on your ex right? Caught up in your thoughts, you never noticed how his eyes shined whenever they landed on you. How he was so eager to see you and hear your voice. He already accepted defeat. He'd fallen for you all over again. Now, all he needed was for you to admit you wanted him too.

Ni-ki

I'm here now

One of the more..."normal" breakups. Things just didn't work out at the time. He was traveling a lot while you were busy studying. You guys barely had time for each other and the relationship turned into a long distance one. You both decided things weren't working out and ultimately decided to break up. It broke your heart, of course it did. No breakup was easy.

You often found yourself reminiscing on the time you had spent together. He did too. Riki found it hard to sleep some nights knowing you weren't in his arms. I mean technically towards the end of the relationship you weren't there often, but being broken up felt different. Slowly but surely you built yourself up again. You weren't crying anymore and you were able to sleep peacefully now. However, you did still think about him from time to time.

It had only been a few months after all. You were still healing and that journey is never finishing quickly. Once you were in a better state your grades had improved, your skin was clear, you really took time to look after yourself. Riki on the other hand was healing slowly too. A few people had approached him, but he wasn't interested. Though he was getting over you, there were times you were on his mind. When a year and 6 months of your breakup passed, the both of you were in better shape. You both felt better and looked better.

Even better news, Riki was no longer traveling like crazy. He knew this was probably going too far, but he needed to see you. He at least wanted to see how you were doing. He claimed he wanted nothing more, but deep down, he wanted to hold you, kiss you, tell you the words you wanted to hear before you guys broke up. 'I'm here to stay.' You were at the library looking for a book you needed for a class when you noticed a familiar figure in your peripheral entering. It was Riki. You couldn't lie and pretend like you weren't excited. Riki didn't even know why he was there.

Something in his body just told him to go to the library. Now he knew why. Upon seeing you, he couldn't resist the urge to let his arms fly open. You found your way into his embrace. His hug was tight. It made you feel secure. Without saying any words, mainly to avoid noise violations, his body did all the talking. The reassurance you wanted from that time, you finally got it. Riki wasn't letting you go anytime soon. He honestly forgot you guys were in public. To make the moment more perfect, he leaned into your ear and spoke those magical words. "I'm here, and I'm going to stay for you.”