#i love him and nothing will ever change that

[ceilidho]

fear of god

There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew. Part 12 masterlist

-

A false moon dictates the coming of night. 

You set up a cot in the medical unit again, going to your quarters to grab a spare set of sheets before returning, Gaz shadowing you the way there and back. His presence scratches at the back of your head, reminding you that he’s there at your back. You don’t ask him why he insists on keeping up this charade of monitoring your behaviour—his motives are as unclear to you as ever.  

“This isn’t necessary,” you finally manage to get out on the walk back to the medbay, the door within sight. 

“I know,” Gaz says simply. 

The door slides open and you enter with him still at your back. “Then why are you following me?”

“Those were Graves’ orders, weren’t they?”

“And you what? Follow his orders now?”

It’s difficult to determine who you actually feel betrayed by. Gaz owes you no debt—it wasn’t you that let him into the ship. The focus of your anger should be on Graves and the rest of the crew, but yet—

Your chest twinges when the door slides shut and Gaz leans against it, no different than a guard posted at the door. 

He shrugs, unbothered by the reproach in your voice. “He’s the commander.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s right.”

“Maybe not.”

“I had nothing to do with Hadir getting sick.”

“I know that.” Your chest deflates when you can’t detect any insincerity behind his words. “But Graves is in charge of the ship and unless you think you could get the others to agree with you, isn’t it better to toe the line for now?”

It would upset you if it were any less true. The hierarchical arrangement of personnel on board has always been clear, and it’s not lost on you that you’ve always hovered near the bottom, falling further from grace with every passing day. Who apart from Gaz and Hadir have been sympathetic towards you in recent weeks anyway? Nikolai’s friendship is an extension of his disposition, an affection easily given and easily taken away. Farah barely even regards you as trustworthy these days, convinced that you’re teetering on the edge of losing your mind.

She might not be wrong. 

Gaz watches you make the bed, settling into your office chair, a mite more comfortable than the stool by the counter. 

“Do you want me to set up a cot for you?” you ask begrudgingly. 

He shakes his head. “Don’t need one.”

“You can sleep comfortably sitting up like that?” 

His smile verges on patronizing. “I don’t need to sleep, love.”

Your skin crawls. You hate when he does that—when he lets you in on your shared secret, the knowledge that he isn’t as human as he appears. Whatever he is still eludes you. Alien or divine. There’s no point in asking though. That knowledge sits beyond your purview. 

You ignore him to the best of your abilities and finish setting up your cot, his words still ringing in your ears. 

Things take a turn for the worse when Hadir stops responding altogether. 

Though his verbal responses have become less and less frequent over the last couple days, the dropoff is significant. As your only patient though, you’ve been monitoring him closely since he was admitted, and you pick up on the change quickly. It’s like an itch under your skin, a sixth sense from working with sick patients for the better part of your adult years. 

Gaz picks up on the change in your mood, sitting up straighter. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” you respond through stiff lips. “Something changed.”

The base of your spine tingles when the vital signs monitor suddenly beeps, alerting you to a change in Hadir’s condition.

You flip a switch and press a button on the keyboard, speaking directly to the Ship’s AI. “Ship, what’s the patient’s status?” 

Patient's temperature is unusually elevated

Recommendation to increase fluids and decrease external temperature 

You lift his eyelids and find his pupils irregular, one larger than the other, and they don’t respond properly when you shine a light on them. 

“What can I do?” Gaz asks, as serious as you’ve ever seen him.

“We need to cool him down. His fever is spiking. I’ll get the cooling blanket—there are ice packs in the freezer over there—” You point to a refrigerator on the other side of the room. “—get the ice packs and start packing them around his armpits and groin. We need to get his temperature down while I figure out what the fuck is happening.”

Gaz moves quickly, retrieving the ice packs from the freezer and packing them up against Hadir’s pits and in between his legs under the medical gown. Hadir’s lips flutter reflexively at the cold but that’s as much responsiveness as you get out of him. 

You press the button to speak to the AI again. “Ship, is his temperature coming down?”

Negative

Patient temperature currently: 104°

Even his breathing has changed, his breaths similarly irregular and increasingly shallower. You put in the orders for another CT scan, moving quicker and typing faster than you ever have before. The breathing tube gets put in next to secure his airway and you don’t like the way his gag reflex doesn’t kick in when the tube is shoved down his throat. It signals something dangerous. 

The situation before you doesn’t bode well. Dread clings to the wall in the far corner of the room but you ignore its presence to focus on your work, throwing everything at the walls to see what sticks. 

His labs are all over the place. High fever, low platelets, high D-dimer, high FDPs. An hour passes in a blink with you running test after test to no avail—none of his results that come back make any sense—all while his temperature continues to rise. 

Patient temperature currently: 105°

Plastic backliners flutter to the floor when you rip them off the electrodes, pasting the small metal discs around Hadir’s scalp for the EEG, working as quickly and efficiently as possible. 

“Has his temperature come down yet?” you bark, too preoccupied with your work to chance a glance up at the monitor.

“No,” Gaz says curtly. “Still 105°.”

It’s all happening so quickly that you can’t seem to get your bearings. If it were anyone else on the table, you’d at least have Hadir to assist you; you’re on your own now though, Gaz barely any help to you without any real medical knowledge. 

Your heart pounds against your chest when you notice blood coming up Hadir’s ET tube. A few droplets at first, and then a trickle. 

A horrible, prophetic knowledge falls over you, threatening to collapse you. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Gaz asks.

“I don’t know—” Then his nose starts to bleed and your heart stops. The stain on the front of his gown and what you find underneath it when you lift it up confirms your worst suspicions. “He’s going into DIC—”

“DIC?”

“His blood—”

The AI takes that moment to interject, speaking over you: Patient body has used up all of its clotting factors and will begin to bleed out

Sepsis—a severe infection—an autoimmune response—trauma—cancer—so many different possible answers to explain why Hadir would spontaneously go into disseminated intravascular coagulation, but his labs tell you shit. Nothing makes sense. You can’t explain why he might be hemorrhaging because there isn’t anything in his scans or labs to indicate anything wrong with him.

More blood leaks from his face and nethers, staining the light blue of the bed a dark red. Logical objections halt in the face of the tangible, and blood is tangible. Blood is all you see. 

The final moments are harried, frenzied. You bark orders at Gaz, which he follows militarily, and struggle in vain to keep Hadir’s condition from further deteriorating, but it’s nearly impossible without being able to address the root cause. Transfusions of platelets, fresh frozen plasma, and cryoprecipitate only go so far. 

When his brain activity goes flat on the monitor, your mind goes blank. Static noise fills your head. You slump against the wall, staring at Hadir’s bleeding body on the exam table, still leaking blood from all of his orifices, the sound of the monitor blaring like a siren in your ears. 

“He’s dead,” Gaz says blandly, staring at the body nonplussed. 

“Yeah,” you rasp. Your voice is thick in your throat, devastated. 

There’s blood all over the bed, more in one place than you’ve seen in a long time—not since working in trauma units back on Earth. Every inch of your body aches as the adrenaline recedes, having reached its peak in the throes of Hadir’s final moments, jaw so tight you almost can’t unclench it.

“What happened?” he asks, almost quizzically. 

The curious lack of emotion in his voice doesn’t penetrate through the brain fog. “I don’t know—he just…” 

The weight of all that just happened comes over you swiftly. An hour ago, Hadir was fine for all intents and purposes. Stable. Now, blood stains his chin, the underside of his nose, the front of his gown, and the bed underneath him, the sweat caked on his forehead cooling as the life leaches out of his body. 

Your hands shake by your sides, a violent tremble rolling through you. 

“I don’t get it,” you whisper. 

You should’ve quarantined Hadir from the start, from the very second he was admitted into your care. You should’ve ignored the fact that his labs came back fine that first day and just assumed that the nature of his illness was more severe than it appeared. Shame and dread plunge like a dagger through your midsection.

Protocol should’ve dictated that you initiate a quarantine, but since you didn’t—

You stare at the body on the table, the ET tube streaked with blood.

—your duty now is to ensure that no one else gets sick too. 

You’ll need to seal off the medbay until every surface has been properly decontaminated and then quarantine yourself until you’re sure that you aren’t infected as well. Your eyes flick towards Gaz momentarily before you shoot down the thought of testing him as well. 

Mitigate the transmission. That thought sticks out amongst the rest. The body lying on the bed in the middle of the room is no longer a patient that needs tending to but rather hazardous material that needs to be disposed of lest whatever infected it is transmitted to everyone else on board the ship. 

It’s waste. Filth. And it will contaminate everything on board if you don’t remove it. 

Your body moves on autopilot. You wheel the bed to the ejection chute at the back of the medbay. It takes a series of codes in order to open the door to the chute and you key them in quickly and efficiently. When the door slides open, you raise the bed until it’s slightly higher than the chute, tipping the bed forward in order for the body to slide into it. 

Ejection chute engaged

Hadir’s body disappears into the chute, the reinforced metal and glass sliding shut when the sensors register that the chute door is empty. There’s a thunk from behind the wall as his body is shuttled through the pneumatic tubes towards the back of the ship, and it won’t be more than a minute before the body is projected from the ship entirely. 

Your heart skips a beat when the AI pings awake again.

Object ejected 

“I wouldn't have done that if I were you,” Gaz says, and you flinch at the sound of his voice, momentarily forgetting that someone else is in the room with you. 

Your eyes drift over to him, the room murky for a moment, the air hazy like water, like you’re looking through a film and only just starting to settle back down into your body after watching from overhead. He seems bigger somehow.

“We have to quarantine ourselves,” you say, frantically towards one of the cupboards and ripping it open, pulling out rolls of plastic to plaster over the door. “We didn’t put on any PPE, so we might’ve been exposed to whatever Hadir had.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.”

His lips are turned up at the corners when you look over, frowning, but noise in the hallway keeps you from following up on his remark. 

The announcement over the intercom must have alerted the others, and you hear footsteps from down the hall seconds before they arrive, boots clanking against the metal flooring. When the door slides open and you see Farah standing there with Alex at her back, her face hauntingly vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen before, words fail you. 

“What happened?” Farah asks. 

“I don’t know. He was fine just a second ago and then—”

“Where is he?” she demands, scanning the room for him. “Where’s Hadir?”

“I—” The words get tangled up in your throat, terror and shame making it hard enough to breathe, never mind speak. 

Graves barrels in a second later, flushed and out of breath. He must have been in the cockpit when the intercom alerted him to the ejection chute being utilized. Nikolai is fast on his heels, less winded but just as concerned. 

You realize that from the direction Nikolai came, he must’ve been at the back of the spacecraft, and you morbidly wonder if he heard the sound of Hadir’s body ferrying through the pneumatic tube system.

“Doctor, what did you just throw out of the chute?” Graves asks, his tone hard and uncompromising, softened only by the breathless note in his voice from running halfway across the ship. 

You don’t answer.

His eyes lift to the space over your shoulder, where the patient bed is flush to the wall, the head level with the chute leading out of the ship. Blood still saturates the mattress. 

You watch as the knowledge of what you’ve done dawns on them, realization morphing into distress and horror. From behind Farah, Alex goes ashen, a hand clamping down on her shoulder to hold her in place before she realizes what you’ve done and the inevitable happens. You see it play out in your head like a movie. 

“Farah—” he starts, but any effort to steer her out of the room is thwarted by how quickly she comes to the same conclusion. 

“Where’s my brother?” Farah screams, and you wince, your head aching like there’s something else in there listening to her scream too. 

Alex has to hold her back from lunging at you, fighting to keep her in his arms, her body thrashing wildly. You’ve never seen her like this before. Grief and rage strip her of stoicism, and when her screams turn to tears, it rips a hole right through you. 

“You ejected Hadir from the ship?” Graves breathes, stunned. 

Nikolai just stares, at a loss for words. You’ve never seen any of them so obviously affected, so contrary to the image of them that you’ve carried with you in your mind for months. 

“I had to!” you shout, vocal cords tearing under the strain. “We couldn’t keep his body on board! What if it was some hemorrhagic fever—like ebola? Or worse?”

“You don’t even know what killed—” Graves roars before stopping abruptly, squeezing his eyes shut. He presses his fist to his mouth, the skin around his knuckles bone white. 

“We need to quarantine.” Your fingers tremble when you press them to your temples, flinching when you realize that your gloves are still covered in blood. “I was going to seal off the room to keep it from spreading, but now that you’re all here, we’re probably all been infected—”

“Infected by what?” 

“I don’t know.” 

A shade is falling over you. Everything feels raw, livid—a wound being prodded. The light hurts your eyes when you lift them from the floor to meet Graves’ gaze. Even the air feels caustic against your skin. 

Even your impulses don’t feel like your own, like there is some

insidious rot

fruiting under your skin.

“Are you going to say anything to them?” you finally snap at Gaz, desperation loosening your tongue. “You were here—you saw what happened. Why aren’t you telling them what happened?”

The others turn to look at him, orienting like sunflowers towards the sun. It’s the only comparison that comes to mind. And at the centre of them, Gaz stares back at you, an ersatz approximation of confusion. 

He gives a slow blink, eyes glinting with something unknown. “Tell them what? That you tossed Hadir out into space?” 

You should’ve expected that you’d be left hanging, but the reality of it is unbearable. Humiliating. 

You know what you look like to them: dangerous, erratic. Your paranoia on full display. Even Nikolai’s mouth is set in a grim line.

You can hear the accusations flying through their minds—that you caused this somehow. Overdosed him on anti-clotting medication and let him bleed out, then disposed of the body before a proper autopsy could be performed. That maybe you prolonged his illness, knowing it would lead to this.  

It happens swiftly and without word, as if planned ahead of time. Nikolai and Graves lunge towards you suddenly, grabbing you by the undersides of your arms and nearly lifting you off your feet when they haul you forcibly out of the room. Alex still has Farah trapped in his arms in the corner of the room when they drag you past her. 

“Farah, I’m sorry—I’m sorry—” 

You’re not strong enough to break free of Graves’ and Nikolai’s hold though, so you’re carried off before Farah can say anything. There’s only a split second for your eyes to lock and for you to see something broken beyond recognition there, and then the door cuts you off from her.

“You’re all fucking insane—let me go—” you scream, spittle flying from your mouth. The scream that tears out of you is so animalistic and loud that your throat squeezes up in protest, a cough forcing its way out. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Down the hall and towards the back of the ship. Boots echo against the metal floors, the two men on either side of you in sync with each other. Neither says a word nor responds to your screams. Their patience with your increasingly unhinged behaviour has finally crossed a threshold once thought impossible, your reputation alone no longer enough to save you. 

They all but throw you into the brig, the metal door clanging shut behind you when you’re dropped to your hands and knees, peering over your shoulder to find Nikolai punching in the key to lock and arm the door, a wretched, pained look on his face.

“Nikolai, please—” you beg, crawling to the door and curling your hands around the bar. “It wasn’t my fault—I didn’t kill Hadir. I’m sorry! He could’ve made everyone on board sick if we’d kept the body! Please, Nikolai, please—”

Your pleas fall on deaf ears. The last sound you hear is the brig door slamming shut and then their footsteps gradually recede into the distance.

[curmemini]

And if it means any thing, the every day american isn't too happy about it either. JD Vance and his family visited Vermont to go skiing today (the day after the above show) and was greeted with waves of Ukraine flags and anti-Russia sentiment. I know multiple resorts refused to serve him - I am not sure if they did get to ski.

More, the 25-year-old snow reporter for Sugarbush included a long pro-democracy message before her report on the weather conditions. At the risk of expanding the post terribly, her message read:

Mar 1st, 2025, 6:49 AM: Today of all days, I would like to reflect on what Sugarbush means to me. This mountain has brought me endless days of joy, adventure, challenges, new experiences, beauty, community, and peace. I’ve found that nothing cures a racing mind quite like skiing through the trees and stopping to take a deep breath of that fresh forest air. The world around us might be a scary place, but these little moments of tranquility, moments I’ve been fortunate enough to enjoy as a direct result of my employment here, give me, and I’d guess you, too, a sense of strength and stability.

This fresh forest air, is, more specifically fresh National Forest air. Sugarbush operates on 1745 acres of the Green Mountain National Forest. Right now, National Forest lands and National Parks are under direct attack by the current Administration, who is swiftly terminating the positions of dedicated employees who devote their lives to protecting the land we love, and to protecting us while we are enjoying that land.

This Administration also neglects to address the danger, or even the existence of, climate change, the biggest threat to the future of our industry, and the skiing we all so much enjoy here. Burlington, VT is one of the fastest-warming cities in the country, and Vermont is the 9th fastest-warming state. The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Association (NOAA), a resource I use every day for snow reporting, is crucial in monitoring extreme weather events and informing public safety measures, and is also experiencing widespread layoffs and defunding at the hands of the Administration.

Sugarbush would not be Sugarbush without our wonderful community. Employees and patrons alike, we are made up of some of the most kind hearted, hardworking people I have ever met. Our community is rich with folks of all different orientations, ethnicities, and walks of life, who all contribute to make this place what it is. They all love Sugarbush because it is a place where they can come to move their bodies, to connect with the land, to challenge themselves, to build character, to nourish their souls with the gift of skiing.

Many of these people are part of the LGBTQI+ community. Many (well, that’s a stretch, we all know this is an incredibly white-washed industry) are people of color. Half are women. Many are veterans or adaptive skiers who, through Vermont Adaptive, are able to access snow sports in part thanks to federal grants through the Department of Veterans Affairs, which is also facing devastating cuts. Many of our beloved employees moved across the world through an exchange program on the J1 visa to help this resort run, and they are not US citizens. ALL of these groups are being targeted, undervalued, and disrespected by the current Administration.

The beauty of National Forest land, is that anyone and everyone is welcome to enjoy it. Anyone and everyone can buy a lift ticket. I also imagine it is incredibly difficult, and likely impossible, to say “No” to the Secret Service. I hope that, instead of faulting Sugarbush management or employees for “allowing this to happen”, you can direct your anger to the source — the Administration that, in my oh-so-humble opinion, is threatening our democracy, our livelihoods, our land.

I want to reiterate how much I admire and respect my fellow employees and managers — they work so hard to make this place operate, to keep you coming back and enjoying it and making lifelong memories. Many of them may feel the same way that I do, but their hands are tied, and for good reason. They have families to support, they have benefits and health insurance to receive, they face far greater and more binding pressure from Corporate. I am in a privileged position here, in that I work only seasonally, I do not rely on this job for health insurance or benefits, and hey, waking up at 4:30 AM isn’t exactly sustainable. Therefore, I am using my relative “platform” as snow reporter, to be disruptive — I don’t have a whole lot to lose. We are living in a really scary and really serious time. What we do or don’t do, matters. This whole shpiel probably won’t change a whole lot, and I can only assume that I will be fired, but at least this will do even just a smidge more than just shutting up and being a sheep.

I am really scared for our future. Acting like nothing is happening here feels way scarier than losing my job. I want to have kids one day, and I want to teach them to ski. The policies and ideals of the current Administration, however, are not conducive to either of these things, because, at least how things look now, I’d never be able to afford a good life for a child anyway, and snow will be a thing of Vermont history. So please, for the sake of our future shredders: Be Better Here. It has truly been a pleasure writing your morning snow reports — I hope this one sticks with you. With love, peace, and hope, Lucy Welch

My point in adding this is that for every brazen display by the executive branch, more and more people are emboldened to speak out. More and more people realize what they truly value.

We will see the day that fascism ends. We will see a free Ukraine.

So this was a pre-planned (and likely paid for by the Kremlin) show: to invite Zelenskyy, scold him like a kindergartener in front of the press, present him with an unreasonable "deal" - an ultimatum - knowing full well he will refuse it (as anyone in this position would). And then tell the world: "Look, our mighty Orange King could've ended this horrible war in a day, but this poorly-dressed, warmongering, ungrateful twat just doesn't want peace! It's not our fault, we did what we could!"

The show is so cheap, so transparent, yet still effective for so many brainless people.

[houseofaegon]

SKINNY DIPPING pt. 1 ✩ Wally Clark

Pairings: Wally Clark x Fem!reader

Warnings: +18 SMUT MINORS DNI. very slow burn. semi-public sex, unprotected p in v, teasing, heavy sexual tension, explicit dirty talk, praising, degradation, skinny dipping in a public pool, possesiveness/jealousy, light choking, rough gripping & mandhandling, overstimulation, wally being a cocky little shit, risk of getting caught, begging, breeding kink. wally whimpering???? (god have mercy)

Summary: For what feels like an eternity, Y/n and Wally have been nothing more than just friends. but that changes one reckless night when they decide to cross skinny dipping off their "100 things to do before crossing over" bucket list. Teasing and meaningless flirting turn heated, and the tension that has been simmering between them finally snaps. Under the moonlit water, boundaries blur, and their friendship is completely wrecked, in the best possible way.

Author's note: God bless Milo Manheim!!!!!!!!!! I love this idea of having a bucket list of things they want to do before crossing over. It might be cool to make it into a series. idk. We'll see. :) For now, enjoy!! I hope you guys like it. <3 xoxo, nai.

Word count: 1714

Song choices: lose control - teddy swims, tear you apart - she wants revenge, closer - nine inch nails, flawless - the neighbourhood, do i wanna know? - arctic monkeys, TiO - zayn.

masterlist. part 1. part 2.

    ⊹             ⊹            ⊹             ⊹            ⊹          ⊹             ⊹             ⊹

Wally had been wandering the halls of the school, bored out of his mind, his thoughts drifting aimlessly as he just tried to make it through another day—not that he ever expected much on a normal one, at least. But then, there were those days. The ones that turned into trouble. The kind of trouble that you made happen.

It didn't really take much to turn an average boring day into something unforgettable when you were involved. You were the life of the party. You and Wally? Every single time you two were together, trouble seemed to follow.

And today? Today was no different.

You had both made a promise long ago: make eternity fun. It was a pact, a way to deal with the fact that you two were dead, with no going back to your old lives. So, you'd sworn to make the most of every single day, even if it meant causing chaos along the way.

You'd even written down an entire bucket list with him. Wally named it "100 things to do before crossing over." You two hadn't really crossed off many of the things you'd written down; some of them were not very possible, given the fact that you two couldn't really leave the school grounds. But that didn't stop you from trying to make every day feel like it mattered.

After walking aimlessly around the school, Wally finally spotted you, sprawled out on the bleachers of the football field. The sun was making your skin glow, and despite the fact that you couldn't tan anymore, you still seemed to soak up every single ray as if you were trying to relieve the feeling of it. One arm draped over your eyes, one leg over the other. Wally smiled; you always found a way to look effortlessly cool and beautiful, even in moments like this.

Wally climbed up the steps, settling on the one just below you, his eyes studying you. "We're gonna have field day in an hour," he said, his voice light. "Mr. Martin wants to do something...different. A bonfire or whatever. I don't know. Rhonda told me."

But you didn't respond. Your silence made him arch an eyebrow.

"You good?" he asked, his tone shifting to a more serious now. He wasn't too used to you being so quiet.

You opened your eyes, lazily glancing at him. “Just thinking,” you murmured, your voice soft.

“Dangerous,” he teased, though he could tell something was off. You smiled at him, rolling your eyes, but he noticed they didn't have that usual sparkle.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked again, a little more worried now.

You propped yourself up, your gaze flickering to the school building for a moment before focusing back on him. “Yeah,” you said, your voice steadier this time. “I’ve just been thinking about that list we made.”

“The one with a hundred things we’re supposed to do before crossing over?” Wally asked, smirking. “We’re halfway through, but there’s still plenty of time left.”

He watched your expression closely, trying to figure out what was going through your head, but you were unreadable as ever.

You shook your head. “We haven’t really crossed off much…” You trailed off for a second, your gaze flicking to the sky before you let out a sigh. “I just feel like... days are getting boring, Wally.”

He tilted his head. “Well, let’s do something not boring, then. Something stupid.”

“Define stupid.” You raised an eyebrow.

Wally’s lips curled into that signature cocky grin. The one that always meant he was about to take things to another level.

“Number 16,” he said, his eyes gleaming.

“Do you expect me to remember?” You shot back, trying to act nonchalant, but there was a flutter of excitement in your chest.

He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Skinny dipping, dumbass.”

You froze for a moment, processing his words. Your mind raced, the idea catching you off guard. It was reckless, a little insane—but totally on brand for the two of you.

"You're serious?" you asked, staring at him with a mix of disbelief.

Wally leaned forward slightly, his voice low, his gaze burning with that familiar mischievous fire. “Dead serious.”

You couldn’t help it. A wicked smile spread across your face as you locked eyes with him. It was just a stupid thing to do. Just another one of your meaningless games. No harm in it, right?

"You're insane," you muttered under your breath, pushing yourself off the bleacher to stand right in front of him. You looked down at him, your gaze meeting his with a challenge in your eyes.

Wally just shrugged. “Yeah, well, eternity wouldn’t be fun if we weren’t at least a little bit insane.” His eyes traced the curve of your body, the unspoken tension between you both suddenly feeling palpable, thick in the air.

You swallowed, suddenly aware of the heat that seemed to spark between you both. “I swear you’ll get us caught.” You half joked, but the wild idea was starting to feel too good to back away from.

“Let’s make it quick then,” he replied. “We’ll make sure no one sees us.”

"I swear, Wally, if we get caught... I'll kill you," you warned, your voice a mix of a playful threat.

Wally chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. "You wouldn't," he teased, but there was a spark of mischief in his eyes that made your stomach flip. "Besides, it's not like anyone's out there anyway. Everyone's off by the bonfire, telling ghost stories or whatever it is they do. We're fine. I'm sure they won't miss us."

You shot him a skeptical look, doubting if you should agree to it but you craved the adrenaline more.

"Come on," he grinned, grabbing your hand. "Let's go have some fun."

The thrill and the adrenaline coursed through you as you followed him, letting him guide you through the school. Wally was always the one to get you into trouble, but you couldn't deny how much you loved it.

As you both snuck through the hallways, being very careful to avoid Rhonda, Charley, Mr. Martin, or anyone who might spot you. You both could hear the muffled sounds of chatter echoing from the field.

When you finally reached the indoor pool, Wally paused at the entrance, opening the door slowly, and scanning the room. It was empty. The sun was almost gone, and the full moon shone brightly through the roof, illuminating the pool in a way that made the entire space feel almost otherworldly.

Wally turned back to you, a grin spreading across his face. "Looks like we have the place all to ourselves."

"Good," you smiled. "Kinda wanted some alone time, y'know?"

Wally's smile grew bigger, his gaze deepening. He took a step closer to you, his eyes locked onto yours. "I was actually thinking the same thing," he said, his voice low, more intimate. There was a flicker of something between you, a feeling that had been there for a while but neither of you had ever acknowledged it. "Just you and me."

"Just you and me," you repeated slowly, the words lingering in the air between you two.

For a second, everything faded away. The pool, the school, the world—it all felt distant, like a memory. It was just you and him, standing there in the moonlit pool, the adrenaline cursing through your veins.

Wally's hand was still intertwined with yours; his touch was warm, and even though you were technically dead, you still felt alive in moments like this. His gaze never left yours as he stepped closer, his breath becoming quicker.

"You sure about this?" he asked, his voice a mix of excitement and something else, something deeper, though it was hard for you to place.

You met his gaze and smirked. "Dead serious."

Wally's lips curled into a grin, there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes and it made your pulse quicken. The weight of his gaze on you caused your head to spin, his presence was overwhelming. He leaned in, his voice lowering to a whisper that sent shivers down your spine. "Just us?"

"Mhm," you nodded, your gaze never leaving his.

There was a subtle shift in Wally's demeanor, a possessiveness in the way he looked at you, but it wasn't the kind that felt controlling, it was the kind that made you feel like he was claiming this moment, claiming you, without saying a word. The air grew heavy with the weight of unspoken thoughts, you couldn't really tell if it was the adrenaline or something else, but you felt your heart pound louder in your chest.

"Yeah?" Wally repeated, a challenging tone lacing his voice, his smile never wavered. He stepped a little bit closer, closing the distance between you, his body just a fraction of an inch from yours. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the tension between you so strong, so thick you could almost touch it.

You tilted your head slightly, feeling the weight of his gaze, how it seemed to pierce right through you, taking in every single inch of you. His pupils were wide, dark, hungry, and the intensity of his stare made your heart race faster than before.

There was no going back now.

And honestly? You did not want to.

"Yeah," you whispered, a little breathless, words barely escaping your lips.

Just you and him, no distractions, no one to come between you two, no rules, no secrets, no limits.

Just you and him.

"So...Skinny dipping?" his lips brushed against your ear, his voice now a low whisper.

This might actually be the worst idea you've ever had. You'd suggested skinny dipping as a joke, both drunk and laughing while writing the list, not actually expecting him to go forward with it.

But here you were, bodies so close you could feel the heat radiating off of him, the air thick, almost suffocating. His eyes so dark, filled with something you couldn't quite describe, but you knew this wasn't just about a dare anymore.

This wasn't just a game.

It was about to become something entirely different, something that could change everything, ruin everything, but... maybe, just maybe, you wanted it to. 

[hhughes]

𐔌 　 ⁺　 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𓂃۶ৎ

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 , after some comments were made by quinn's brothers, you get a little insecure in your relationship and he has to reassure you

𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕. luke!bsf x quinn hughes. 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕. fluff. teasing. flirting. 𝒙𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒊. I love writing quinn so much😭 this is a repost that’s slightly edited if it looks a little familiar to you. one of my favs things ive ever written to this day so thanks again to the anon who requested it! <333

you and quinn had been dating a few months now. sneaking around behind everyone's backs including luke. your best friend and quinn's youngest brother.

the four of you were sitting in the living room at the lake house, watching some movie. jack and luke were chirping quinn about some actress that he used to have a crush on. going on and on about how he had a thing for older women because he was such a mommas boy.

you laughed along at first, always finding it so endearing to watch the brothers bicker back and forth. even though you've been around to witness it for quite a few years now...it never got old. your smile quickly faded when jack started making comments about how all quinn's relationships with younger women has failed, and that he should go for someone older this time, cause it doesn't seem like the younger girls can handle him.

you know you shouldn't let these comments bother you. it wasn't that serious and it wasn't directed towards you, but it was one of your, if not the biggest insecurity you had when it came to your relationship with quinn. being four years younger than him. not being enough to keep him interested. these comments from two people who probably knew him the best, didn't do anything to reassure you.

"I'll be right back," you whisper, avoiding quinn's eyes as you make your way to the bathroom.

a few minutes later there's a soft knock on the door and quinn enters, when you answer, shutting the door behind him and coming over to where you're standing in front of the sink. he wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you closer and kissing your shoulder softly.

"what's wrong sweetheart?" he asks you softly, brushing the hair out of your face as he holds you tight. the time he’s had to spent close to you but not allowed to touch you, having taken its toll on him.

"nothing," you mumble and he puts his hands on your hips, spinning you around to face him and pushing you against the counter.

"don't lie to me. I know you well enough to know everything's not okay and even if I didnt this pout is enough to tell me there's something wrong." quinn says, rubbing circles on your hip and tracing your lips with the thumb of his other hand.

"do you think I'm too young for you?" the words fly out before you can stop them and quinn sighs, knowing his brother's comments was the cause of this.

"age is just a number baby," quinn says teasingly, kissing your lips softly and you sigh.

"quinn I'm being serious," you retort, grabbing both of his hands and holding them in yours, the way they were caressing you becoming a little too distracting.

"so am I. I don't care if you're four years younger or four years older or if you were born the exact same day I was. It doesn't change the fact that you're perfect for me. you know how jack is, especially if he's been drinking, he can't keep his mouth shut. if there's an opportunity to chirp me about something, he’s gonna take it. if they knew that we were together, he would be more careful about making remarks like that. you know both of them adore you and would never say anything to hurt you on purpose" quinn says and you bite the inside of your cheek, knowing he was right.

“and besides, those relationships didn’t work out because they just weren’t the right girl for me baby. not because they were younger. they just weren’t you” he says softly, pressing yet another kiss to your collarbone.

"i’m not ready to tell luke yet." you say and quinn nods, expecting that response from you.

"the longer we wait, the worse it's gonna be." quinn replies and you look down, not wanting to argue about this. again.

quinn sighs softly before taking his hand out of yours and cupping your face between his palms, planting a soft kiss on your lips.

"god it's torture seeing you all day and not being able to touch you. kiss you." he says wrapping his arms around your waist and just hugging you for a few minutes. you smile a bit, thinking that this is exactly why he was nicknamed "huggy bear". your guy loves hugging.

"I'll sneak into your room tonight. if you think a young girl like me can handle you," you quip and quinn chuckles, knowing you're not gonna let that go for a while.

"I think you can handle me just fine baby" quinn smirks, slapping your ass as you walk past him, and out the door.

𝒙𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒊. thank you for reading and feel free to drop by the inbox and share any and all thoughts <333

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

elegiac lamenting - r. itoshi

the clicking of rain outside carved through the silence of the apartment like art.

itoshi rin never considered himself as someone who particularly enjoyed loud noises or talkative people, but right now, he wanted anything but your quietness. you stood in front of him, your head down and your the sound of your heartbeat thumping in your ears.

“continue what you said from before.” you whispered, finally breaking your silence. “what you were about to say at the bar before i stopped you and we left.” you shuddered at the memory; rin had just lost a game today, so maybe it would have been better for you to have shut up. but no, little old you just had to try to comfort him by acting stupid.

you acted out-of-place, but rin’s words were just as unforgivable.

rin’s eyes narrowed before his fists clenched. “you’re so damn annoying.” he hissed out. “it was a mistake dating you. you came into my life promising that you would help me recover from those shitty words that my older brother spoke to me from all those years ago, and yet you only made my life worse. distracting me from soccer, making me do stupid things with you, clinging onto me and expecting me to treat you like some god, you ruined my life. i can’t believe i ever dated you.”

for a few moments, silence once again leapt around the room, excluding the taps of the rain. “you never complained. never said a word. never told me that you didn’t like what i did. and for the record, i never promised to help you recover. i only told you that if you needed me to help, then i would have tried. i never expected you to treat me like some queen, and treating me decently was fine. that’s why i never complained about our relationship. but if you’re unsatisfied with this and you’re going to do nothing but point out my flaws that im more aware of than anyone else, then we can’t don’t this.”

a clap of thunder came right after your words. “well, clearly i am.” rin snapped back. “i can’t believe i spent five years calling you my lover.” and you can’t help but realize that’s right. that it’s been five years since you were both sixteen. that you were both twenty-one now. who knew that you would end up like this with him?

you looked up at him, burning tears finally stinging your eyes. you bit down on your lip harshly, holding your tears back, although the tears that glazed your eyes blurred your vision. but it pained you, it pained you that the only thing that you could clearly make out through your blurred vision was the teal color of sea glass. rin’s eyes, the ones that you fell for.

“alright then.” you choked out. “got it. i just…never mind.” you picked up your jacket from the couch, shoving it on. “you can mail me my things back.” and right before exiting the door, your grip on the door shaky, you finally released your final words to him.

“goodbye, rin. i love you.”

you turned the doorknob and left.

and the moment the door slammed shut, the rain began pouring heavier by tenfold. rin stood there, alone in his humid apartment, his eyes fixated on the mahogany door. he crashed onto the couch, a hand going up to run through and grab his hair harshly. he bit down on his lip, nearly drawing blood. he knew that he shouldn’t have said that; it wasn’t even the truth, why did those words escape his lips?

and now he’s lost you.

thunder once again clapped outside, and perhaps it was the world mocking him. perhaps it was the gods finding it funny. perhaps it was just mother nature’s cruelty. but this rain would change rin’s life forever.

————

rin woke up with a sharp ache in his lower back. he groaned, rubbing his eyes and stretching. shit, he let himself go off schedule. he checked his watch; 8:21 AM. He was supposed to be at practice right now, dammit. He pushed himself out of the couch, rapidly brushed his teeth and changed clothes, and got ready to go out before he saw something on the table.

your phone.

you must have left it here yesterday, although rin didn’t realize why you didn’t just come back to retrieve it. you had spare keys, after all. but he just sighed; another thing that he needed to give you. he opened your phone through your password—the day you both met—and checked the location of you through your watch.

he expected to see the familiar details of your address, but what met his eyes was practically the opposite.

KAMAKURA GENERAL HOSPITAL

what.

screw practice, he had just won a match yesterday. he shoved the front door open and ran down the apartment building’s stairs. hands gripping the steering wheel, he ran through the events of last night before sighing.

please, you better be okay.

you’ll be okay, you’ll be okay.

please.

i didn’t mean what i said last night. any of it.

please.

im sorry.

please.

i love you.

finally, he rushed into the hospital, reaching the front desk in no time and his eyebrows knit together. he stayed quiet for a few moments to catch his breath before speaking. “y/n. are they here? where are they? are they okay?”

the two nurses at the front desk exchanged glances. “and your relationship to the patient?” one of them piped up.

rin’s lips dried up. he wasn’t your boyfriend anymore, but he would have no chance of seeing you if he said that he was your ex-boyfriend.

“…friend. im their friend.”

the two nurses exchanged glances again before one of them nodded and shot rin a pitying look. she walked out of the front desk area and led rin upstairs before opening a door.

inside, you sat up on the hospital bed. rin sprinted over to you and kneeled down next to the bed, his hand squeezing yours. he panted, his eyebrows furrowing. “are you okay? what the hell happened?” you ignored him completely. in fact, rin didn’t even know if you realized he were here. your eyes are fixated on the wall in front of you, irises unmoving and only blinking every now and then.

your eyes didn’t have it’s usual brightness. the one that brought light into itoshi rin’s cold, dark life.

“they are currently in a vegetative state. they can’t respond to stimuli.” the nurse began, sighing. “it was an especially rainy night yesterday, and they got into a car accident on the road. they suffered irreversible brain damage.”

nonononononononononono—

rin’s eyes widened, his breath hitching and his heart stopping. the nurse looked down in sadness. “i apologize, but this is usually fatal. even if they do survive, they’ll never be able to live regularly ever again.”

rin’s hands began to tremble, and slowly, warm tears began to brim at his long eyelashes. “no…” he whispered.

the love of his life. the one who lit up his life like no one else. the one who he knew and knew him better than anyone else. his soulmate.

you would never be the same again.

rin’s head dropped, sobbing into the hospital bed. he knew that if any one of his fans saw him like this, he would never be able to go outside in peace again. but he couldn’t give two shits, not when the love of his life is like this.

rin then went on a break for one year and six whole months.

no one knew where the hell he was. he didn’t pick up any calls. he didn’t play in any of pxg’s games. he didn’t even go to practice, for fuck’s sake. his pr team had made up the excuse that he wasn’t in a good physical condition, but that was just pure bullshit, and everyone knew it.

on february 14th of 2024, your heart rate monitor went still.

everything went by in a blur for rin.

black outfits and a picture frame of you. marigolds and chrysanthemums. prayers and blessings. but rin couldn’t help but notice the biggest change in his life.

the world was just so dull and colorless without you.

pallid and gray. the color of rain, the very rain that took you away from him.

after one more year of grieving, on february 14 of 2025, itoshi rin finally continued his soccer career. but this time, with a change. he always wore a heart shaped locket everywhere, even to matches. his hardcore fans recognized it as his lover’s favorite necklace, but they haven’t been seen in over a year and a half, so everyone had just assumed that they had broken up.

ITOSHI RIN’S RETURN MATCH: FLOP OR FORGIVEN?

PXG VS BASTARD MÜNCHEN - THE FAMOUS ITOSHI RIN’S RETURN

everyone in the stadium could see the difference in rin’s play style.

his moves were so beautifully passionate, so full of emotion. so full of love and yet, so full of sorrow.

his style of playing was almost like a confession of love.

“AND ITOSHI RIN MAKES A COMEBACK AND SCORES THE FINISHING GOAL! PXG WINS, 4 TO 3!”

everything was a blur to rin as he held up the heart locker. usually, this would be embarrassing and absolutely humiliating for him to do.

but not this time.

he pressed a kiss to the cold, heart shaped metal, and he looked up at the sun with such incredibly soft and loving eyes.

“this is for you.”

@levihanmyotp 😈😈😈

[minaharkerdailymirror]

When he said he would not comment on Lestat’s manhood, she giggled, “it must be nothing to brag about then. I think if it was magnificent, you would say so. Maybe.”

Maybe it was massive and it unfurled like an adult fruit roll up, now that was a thought.

Mina felt herself bristle when Armand questioned if maybe Lestat changed, “well, I should have to fight him if you wanted to find out if he changed in that regard. Let them have their slap fights til the end of time. You’re MY husband until you decide you don’t want to be anymore.”

But it wasn’t really Lestat she worried about as much as it was Molloy. Armand loved him enough to change him. If he tracked Armand down to get him back, it had the chance to be very messy.

When he said he would write a song for her, she got flustered and hid her face, “No one has ever written a song for me. “

Mina raised an eyebrow, “the situation is gauche or his dick is gauche?”

Even if he wasn’t a vampire, Mina thought him as little more than a David Bowie knockoff and so she thought it humorous to mock him at any and every turn. That included low hanging fruit.

“How long were you together then?” She asked as she pulled into the parking lot of the castle.

She turned and stared at him in the seat, “I must say I’m a bit jealous because how could I compete with a song?”

That she didn’t truly believe was about him.

[facewithoutheart]

What if Eddie got a beanie baby for Christmas one year and it’s dumb because stuffed animals are for girls and Eddie’s the Man of the House but secretly he likes his little white bear with the heart on his chest. He cuts the tag off it and his mom yells at him because they’re supposed to be worth a lot of money someday but secretly Eddie’s glad he did it. If the bear isn’t worth anything but the joy he brings to Eddie then maybe he’ll get to keep it. He does, eventually, forget about the bear. Or, he puts him on a shelf when he enters high school because high school boys don’t sleep with toys and maybe there’s some nights he sees the bear on his shelf and he thinks it might be nice to hold him but he doesn’t.

The first time Shannon comes into his bedroom she immediately sees the bear. “Who’s this little guy?” she teases and Eddie gets irrationally angry seeing it in her hands. “My stupid sisters leaving their stupid toys in my room,” he says, grabbing it out of her hands and throwing it in his bedside trash can. He waits until she’s left to fish him out. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” which is dumb, so dumb, that he’s apologizing to a doll, that he’s crying.

Eddie wants to bring the bear with him to Afghanistan but he doesn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to the bear, no matter what little comfort it might bring to Eddie.

When his mom gives Christopher a stuffed bear after his birth, Eddie stares at the way Chris hugs it to his chest and wonders what would ever make him tear the toy from Chris’s hands.

Chris finds the stuffed bear when he moves to El Paso. It’s weird, how he wants it to sit on his nightstand, but not as weird as the tight look his abuela gets when she sees it. “Where did you find that?” Chris shrugs. “Behind some books in the closet.” Chris becomes fascinated with the bear. He looks it up online. Valentino. There’s a little red stain over one eye, maybe someone spilled something on it. He sends a picture to Buck. “He kind of reminds me of you.” “Yeah, Superman! He does! How are you doing?????” Chris doesn’t reply.

When Chris is packing up his items to move back to LA, he doesn’t think about it when he throws the bear into his suitcase. He puts it on a shelf when he gets back home. Nothing else has changed about his room; his dad kept it exactly the way he left it, so the bear sticks out. “Where’d you get that?” His dad asks when he sees the bear, his hands are flinching into fists by his side. Chris’s breath picks up. “You can’t be mad at me for taking him. You obviously didn’t want him; you left him behind!” “I’m not mad,” Chris’s dad lies. “Yes, you are. You are!” “Okay! I’m a little mad!” “Why?!”

“Because he was mine!”

Eddie takes a breath. He looks at his son. He loves him so, so, so much. “Because he was mine,” Eddie says, “but I wasn’t … I never felt like I was allowed to have him.” This time, Chris’s question comes out softer, more earnest, “Why?”

It’s not easy to put into words all the ways the world has shaped Eddie into a form he barely recognizes, but he tries. For his son, he’ll always try. At the end, Chris walks over with the bear. He places it in his dad’s hands. “I think you need this more than I do.”

Eddie laughs and thumbs over where his sister spilled cherry koolaid on him the one time he let her play with Bear.

“He kind of looks like Buck, doesn’t he?”

Eddie holds Bear to his chest. He squeezes tightly.

“Yeah. He does.”

[lexirosewrites]

Day 3: Love Confession

for @stmarchmm

When Eddie had initially confessed to his interest in Steve, Steve had appeared like he may faint or puke.

Or both.

Despite the obvious chemistry between them during the Upside-Down and their defeating Vecna together, Steve still hesitated.

Admittedly, that made Eddie panic a little bit too.

He’d been so sure that Steve returned his amorous feelings, but now it doesn’t feel quite so obvious.

“If I misread this completely, I can leave. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, Stevie,” Eddie chokes out, heart in his throat.

That seems to snap Steve out of it.

“No! No, you didn’t. You read it correctly, I just—”

And then he pauses. A very long pause.

One where Eddie could fit a lot of words if he wasn’t trying so hard to kick his own habit of filling awkward spaces by rambling endlessly.

“But?” he’d finally prompts Steve.

“I don’t know if I’m actually capable of doing that again.”

That’s where Steve loses him.

“Doing… what again?”

Steve avoids his eyes, arms wrapping around his middle like he needs some extra protection. From what exactly, Eddie is unsure.

“Loving someone.”

Eddie knows about Nancy.

Steve had gotten incredibly wasted one night and cried on his shoulder until he fell asleep, sobbing about how hurt he’d been by the painful rejection.

As Nancy’s friend, he’d wanted to take a neutral stance.

As an alpha falling in love with Steve, he’d been furious and wanted to tear the world apart with rage.

The sweetest omega alive had poured his heart out to his alpha girlfriend and she’d rejected him, broken his spirit with her carelessness.

She may not have meant to do it, but Nancy changed Steve fundamentally.

So, “I love you,” Eddie states plainly.

No frills, no goofy gestures, no silly voices.

Just the facts. What Steve needs to hear.

“Eddie, you really don’t have to do th—”

Steve looks like he’s going to cry. Eddie won’t allow that. Never again, if he can help it.

“I love you,” he says again, louder. “I love you and there isn’t a single thing you can say to change that, sweetheart.”

Steve stares at him then, mouth partially agape in what appears to be shock.

Eddie takes pride in the fact that he can still manage to surprise him at all. Steve’s so used to his antics that nothing seems to phase him anymore.

“You— you don’t really mean that,” he protests softly.

Except. Yes, Eddie truly does.

“I do though. I mean it more than I’ve ever meant anything else in my entire life. I love you, Steve. I love you, even if you never love me. If you decide that there’s no room in your heart for an alpha like me, I will keep loving you. I’ve made up my mind already.”

The tiniest crack of a smile. Barely there.

Did he do it? Did Eddie finally do something right in this life— so right that the most perfect omega of his dreams might actually take a chance on him?

A chance on them.

A chance for what Eddie believes is definitely the best idea he’s ever had.

“So even if I tell you that I’ll spend every day with you terrified of how this relationship could ruin me again?”

The words are serious, but he can see the clear look of amusement in Steve’s eyes.

He’s trying to play cool and unaffected. A game of testing boundaries and Eddie’s determination.

The good news is that Eddie doesn’t have healthy boundaries anyway.

If Steve needs him to wake each morning and say, “I love you,” stop every hour and declare, “I love you,” and go to bed with an, “I love you,” on his lips, Eddie will make it happen.

He’s crazy, but he’s crazy in love too.

“I’m not afraid of loving you, Steve Harrington. Whatever you need from me, it’s yours. Patience, reassurance, blind loyalty and devotion— they’re all yours, baby. You couldn’t pay me to go away, even if you wanted to!”

Steve’s beautiful, beaming smile isn’t hiding any longer.

God, he loves Steve.

[writeriguess]

Hiiiii, i just came across with you cheater bakugo fic its a *chef kiss* butttt can we have a extended version of it i wanna see her happyyy i want bakugo to regret his life because of it

A House Built on Ashes Part 1

author's note: This is just a brief continuation, as I wasn’t certain where to take the story from here. There won’t be any further parts after this.

@alastor-fann and @starlightanyaaa asked to be tagged on this <3

A House Built on Ashes Part 2 (Final part)

Five years later, the city streets are bustling with life, the soft hum of chatter filling the air as Katsuki Bakugo walks through them, hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his jacket. The cold nips at his skin, but it’s nothing compared to the ache inside his chest. He isn’t here for anything in particular—patrol ended an hour ago, but he hasn’t found it in himself to go home yet.

And then, he sees you.

It’s like a sucker punch to the gut.

You’re standing just outside a quaint little café, laughing at something your husband—your husband—just said. His name is Renji Sakamoto, and Katsuki knows everything about him, even though he wishes he didn’t. He knows he’s a doctor, that he’s kind, that he’s the type of guy to leave little notes in your lunchbox just to make you smile. He knows that he proposed to you in the middle of a sunflower field because you’d once mentioned how romantic it would be. And he knows, most of all, that Renji loves you in a way Katsuki never could.

It should be enough to turn away, to move on, but he’s frozen, unable to look away from you.

You look happy. Radiant, even. There’s no trace of the hurt he put you through, no sign of the broken heart he left behind. The way you lean into Renji, the way he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear—it’s intimate, effortless.

It’s love.

Katsuki clenches his fists, nails digging into his palms. He wonders if you ever look at Renji the way you used to look at him. If you still hum when you cook, if you still make extra food just in case he comes home late. He wonders if you ever think about him at all.

Probably not.

A bitter taste fills his mouth as he watches Renji wrap an arm around your waist, guiding you into the café. The door chimes softly as it closes behind you, shutting him out completely.

He should go. He knows he should. But instead, he lingers, standing outside like a ghost haunting the life he ruined. He lets himself imagine, just for a second, what it would be like if things had been different. If he had chosen you instead of his mistakes. If he had been strong enough to be the man you needed.

But regrets don’t change the past. They don’t erase the nights you spent waiting up for him. They don’t take back the moment you looked him in the eye and asked, voice shaking, "Do you love her?" They don’t fix the silence that followed—the silence that sealed his fate.

Katsuki exhales sharply, finally forcing himself to move. The pain doesn’t lessen, but he buries it, as he always does. This is what he deserves, after all.

Because five years later, you’re happy.

And he’s still just a man drowning in his regrets.

[dollcher]

PAIR﹙ ♡ ﹚─── 𝓡oronoa 𝓩oro

𝓢UMMARY ｡ zoro thinks of what could be the best present to show how much you mean to him.

ワンピース & fluff ୨୧ afab!reader. established relationship. zoro is just an awkward sweetheart.

❛ notes ❜ . . i so believe he would do this for you when your relationship was becoming serious & it makes my heart melt <3

the attraction and fondness you and the swordsman held for one another had been well-known amongst the straw hat crew, yet it was months before zoro had mustered up the valour to officially ask you to change your relationship to one of romance. when you had accepted his pursuits, the storm that had been brewing inside him had calmed, his entire body softening with your simple words of acceptance.

three months had gone by since his proposal and he truly hadn't ever believed someone could bring in such wonder and adoration into his life. with each passing day, you proved that that belief he held so firmly before was crumbling down – and to his unforeseen, fortuitous delight, he did not complain about the hold you had on him. the hardy green-haired man would instantly turn to mush around you and he knew he was wrapped around your dainty fingers. whatever you asked of him, he would do it for you, no matter how silly and daffy it might have sounded.

unlike him, you were quite open about your affection towards him. whenever you would wake, you gave him a tender peck to his lips as you muttered a soft 'good morning'; you would routinely bring him a tray of fruits and water after his intense workout sessions; you would comb your fingers through his green locks as you babbled about one of your interests, an action he found grand comfort in.

as zoro roamed alone in the streets of the new island the crew had docked at last night, he was mulling over what he could get you to display the heart he carried for you. but that was proving to be a much more arduous task than he had anticipated. what sort of present could convey how deep his emotions ran for you? truly, nothing would ever seem enough for you – even the most lavish diamond in the world couldn't compare to a gem like you in his eyes.

the sky was starting to taint itself with a dark purple hue, a sign of nightfall approaching soon. he knew he would need to hurry back to the thousand sunny, otherwise he wouldn't hear the end of your censure for getting back so late. despite your sweet temperament, you were rather scary when angered – more than nami at times and that was saying something.

just as zoro felt like giving up on his search, a small shop came into view. the items on display were dazzling and gorgeous – he could picture you in every one of them, looking so ethereal like an angel descended from above. the moment he walked in, he was spoilt for choice, wanting to purchase all the merchandise for you. though there were two issues with that disposition – the first being he didn't have enough berry and the second being the dread of asking nami for any more, only adding to the ridiculous interest he owed her already.

whilst it had taken him some time to settle on a gift for you, he was able to make it back to the ship in time, even with his atrocious sense of direction. zoro saw you leaning against the railing, your hair perfectly shaping your face as the moonlight illuminated your pretty features. you waved at him, a huge, heartfelt grin spreading on your rosy lips. he could feel a warmth efflorescence within him, one that he always felt when he was with you.

"hi, my love," you hummed as he got himself on board and you welcomed him with a hug. thankfully, no one else was on deck otherwise they would have caught the pink that dusted his cheeks and god forbid he let any of the members see him in such a state. he planted a gentle peck to the top of your head as he pulled you in closer. you smelled so heavenly – a mix of vanilla and coffee – that beguiled all his senses.

you let go from his embrace and peered up at him with the docility that made him fall for you in the first place. it was a look you reserved only for him, irises dilated and glistening with dear ardor. "where have you been?', you asked him as you dragged him to your shared room.

"oh. i um–", zoro stuttered. he was beginning to feel abashed, thoughts of you not liking the present or feeling it weren't enough making him swell with concern.

"what is it? what were you doing?", you asked as the two of you entered the bedroom. he shut the door behind him while you scurried to the bed, draping the duvet over you. in these simple moments, he found you so adorable – you tugged at his heartstrings like a harp which played a divine tune that trilled throughout his body.

he had removed his shirt before following you to the bed, snuggling in with you, his arms draping over your waist. your hands traced down his bare chest, sending pleasant shivers wherever you touched him. you began absentmindedly drawing hearts on him when you questioned him once more, "tell me! where were you and what did you do?"

from his pockets, he pulled out a tiny, white box with flowers embroidered on it. he opened it slowly to reveal a pair of silver earrings shaped nearly identical to his golden ones. they glinted prettily from the moonlight that flooded in from the window above. he took them out the box one by one and silently hooked them into your earlobes – it was rare for you not to be wearing any jewellery but luckily it worked out in zoro's favour.

he admired the way it hung on your ears and he adored that it matched with his own. a small smile tugged at his lips, the blush on his cheeks darkening at how beautiful you looked. "i bought them for you. thought it would be... cute," he mumbled, averting his gaze from yours, clearly feeling flustered at his actions.

for a few moments, you could only stare at him baffled. you knew zoro struggled to show his affection for you but at the same time, you knew he was trying his best – he was always by your side when you ventured into new islands; he would place his hand delicately on your inner thigh, stroking it up and down as a means to soothe you; he'd always cuddle with you at night, burying his head in your neck and planting open mouth kisses in your sweet spots. you loved the little things he did and it filled you with amour.

but this – this was something that truly touched you.

zoro cared for you so fiercely that he wanted to flaunt your relationship in a subtle yet doting manner. when he walked into the jewellery shop, he had taken notice of that pair of silver dangly earrings which resembled his golden ones. his eyes were set on them and after quite some haggling with the owner, he had them in his hands. he thought they were perfect – to him, it served as a symbol of your relationship and that you two were in this together, come what may.

"do you... like it?", he asked carefully, his tone unsure and eyes still not meeting your own.

a giggle left your lips as you placed a kiss to his temple. "i love it, you idiot. you're the cutest thing ever."

he could only blush in response as he nuzzled his head in the sweet crevices of your neck, arms tightening over your body, holding you close and never wishing to let go.

[eeerrrrewsd]

Stay

Jason Todd x Reader- Angst/Comfort

It started with his breathing. Shallow, erratic, unsteady.

You’d been sitting on the couch with him, curled up beside him while a movie played in the background. It was one of those rare nights where Jason had actually let himself relax, where the weight of his past wasn’t pressing so heavily on his shoulders. But something had changed. You felt it before you even saw it. The way his body tensed, the way his fingers curled into fists against his thighs.

Then he sucked in a breath—sharp, uneven. Too fast.

“Jason?”

No response. His chest rose and fell too quickly, his shoulders shaking, fingers trembling. His pupils were blown wide, darting around the room as if he wasn’t there with you anymore.

“Jason,” you tried again, sitting up. Your hand brushed against his, but he flinched.

Your stomach twisted.

It wasn’t the first time. He’d had nightmares before, flashbacks that pulled him under until he barely knew where he was. You’d helped before, but this—this was worse. He wasn’t moving, just stuck there, breathing like he was drowning on air, like the walls were closing in on him.

Your heart clenched when you realized—he was mouthing something.

You leaned in, and your stomach turned cold at the barely audible whispers leaving his lips.

“Joker… he—he—”

He couldn’t even finish. He just shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut like he could will the memory away. But it was still there, wasn’t it? You knew it never really left. The nightmares, the pain, the echo of cruel laughter that haunted him like a ghost.

And worst of all—he thought you couldn’t handle it.

You could see it in the way he clenched his jaw, in the way his whole body screamed don’t look at me, don’t see me like this.

But you did. And you weren’t going anywhere.

“Jason,” you said, firmer this time.

Still nothing. His breath hitched, his hands trembling harder.

He was spiraling. Fast.

You had to get him out of it.

You reached for him again, but this time, you took his hands in yours, grounding him. You squeezed gently, just enough to let him feel you there.

“I’m here,” you said softly. “I’ve got you.”

Jason tensed like he wanted to pull away, but you didn’t let him.

“Breathe with me.”

He shook his head, eyes squeezing shut again. “I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” you insisted, voice steady. You lifted one of his hands and pressed it against your chest, right over your heart. “Feel that?”

Jason’s fingers twitched.

“That’s me,” you whispered. “I’m right here, Jason. You’re not alone.”

His breath hitched again, but this time, it was different. He was still trembling, still on the edge of breaking, but he wasn’t pulling away anymore. His fingers curled against your shirt, gripping like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

You guided him, breathing slow and deep. “In… and out.”

It took a few tries. His breath was still uneven, still sharp around the edges. But eventually, he followed. In… out. Again. And again.

Minutes passed, and the shaking lessened. His grip on you didn’t loosen, but his breathing wasn’t as ragged anymore.

When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

“You shouldn’t have to see me like this.”

You frowned, heart aching.

“Jason, I love you.” Your voice was soft, but firm. “That means I’m here for the good and the bad. You don’t have to hide from me.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, like he was waiting for the moment you’d flinch, or turn away, or look at him differently.

But you didn’t.

You just stared back, steady, unwavering.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, eyes burning with something raw, something vulnerable. Then, slowly, his forehead dipped against your shoulder.

You let him.

You held him as his breathing evened out, as the storm inside him settled into something quieter. And even when he finally whispered, “Thank you,” like he still didn’t understand how you could love him like this—

You just held him tighter.

Because you weren’t going anywhere.

Not now. Not ever.

[gf2bellamy]

You know how spencer always suggests to someone on the team to go watch a movie in a different language so he can whisper the translation to them but no one ever agrees to go with him so one time he asks bau!reader if she'd like to come with him and she agrees even though he expected her to reject his offer

festival — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: nothing a/n: hii !! i hope you like this :)

You were packing your bag at your desk while Spencer was standing by your desk , fidgeting slightly as he rambled on, his usual excitement overflowing.

"It's a Korean film festival," he said, his eyes lighting up. "It’s taking place downtown this weekend. The lineup is incredible—films from all across Korea, some of them have been getting a lot of buzz lately." 

You smiled, amused by his enthusiasm. You zipped up your bag and slung it over your shoulder, following him as he walked toward the elevator, still talking about the festival.

“There are so many options, too. Thrillers, dramas, comedies… some are even based on historical events. And, you know, if you want, I could translate for you. The movies won’t have subtitles, but I’d be happy to whisper the translations to you." 

You pressed the elevator button, your smile widening at his usual offer, knowing full well that no one ever took him up on it. Spencer had a habit of suggesting movie nights where he could translate foreign films for his colleagues—an invitation most of the team quickly declined.

But here he was, asking you and you didn’t hesitate. 

"Sure, I’d love to go with you," you said. You'd always enjoyed Spencer’s company, and a night out at the movies sounded like a nice break from the stress of the job. 

The elevator doors slid open, but Spencer didn’t move. He was standing there, blinking at you in silence, as though he hadn’t quite processed what you’d just said. 

You furrowed your brow, a little confused by his reaction. "Spence?" you asked, stepping forward and holding your hand out to stop the doors from closing. "Are you coming?" 

He blinked again, as if waking from a daze, entering the elevator. "You... you want to come with me?" he asked, his voice quiet, like he couldn’t quite believe it. 

"Yes?" you answered, now genuinely puzzled. You pressed the button for your floor, the elevator doors sliding shut as you glanced over at him. 

His eyes seemed to search yours, an almost uncertain look on his face. "Why?" he asked, his head tilted slightly. 

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. "Because I’d love to go with you, Spence. Why else?" 

He blinked again, still processing. "Really?" The question seemed to hang in the air, as if he was waiting for you to change your mind. 

"Yes, really." You smiled, the tension in the air beginning to ease. But Spencer still seemed stuck in a trance-like state, almost as if he couldn’t quite grasp that someone had actually agreed to do this with him. 

The elevator doors opened to your floor, and you stepped out, glancing back at him. "Spence, are you okay?" you asked, a concerned edge to your voice as you noticed his continued surprise. 

He stood frozen for a moment, his gaze locked on you. Then, with a small, almost shy smile, he said, "No one’s ever said yes before." 

Your heart skipped a beat.

You gave him a reassuring smile, stepping back toward him. "Well, I’m saying yes now," you said gently. "And I’m really looking forward to it." 

Spencer nodded slowly, a look of quiet relief spreading across his face. "Thanks," he murmured. "I think this is going to be fun." 

[houseofaegon]

SKINNY DIPPING pt. 2 ✩ Wally Clark

Pairings: Wally Clark x Fem!reader

Warnings: +18 SMUT MINORS DNI. very slow burn. semi-public sex, unprotected p in v, teasing, heavy sexual tension, explicit dirty talk, praising, degradation, skinny dipping in a public pool, possesiveness/jealousy, light choking, rough gripping & mandhandling, overstimulation, wally being a cocky little shit and very possessive, kinda dom!wally, risk of getting caught, begging, breeding kink. wally whimpering???? (god have mercy)

Summary: For what feels like an eternity, Y/n and Wally have been nothing more than just friends. but that changes one reckless night when they decide to cross skinny dipping off their "100 things to do before crossing over" bucket list. Teasing and meaningless flirting turn heated, and the tension that has been simmering between them finally snaps. Under the moonlit water, boundaries blur, and their friendship is completely wrecked, in the best possible way.

Author's note: this is part 2!! Part 1 is linked below <3 And part 3 soon! I had to take a moment to breath and relax while writing this cause hello????? god jesus have mercy I'm literally gnawing at the bars of my enclosure. Also, thank you so much for the love on part 1!! it made me soooo happy to see you guys liked it <3333 it means the world to me!

Word count: 4043

Song choices: lose control - teddy swims, tear you apart - she wants revenge, closer - nine inch nails, flawless - the neighbourhood, do i wanna know? - arctic monkeys, TiO - zayn, again - noah cyrus.

masterlist. part 1. part 2. part 3

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"So...Skinny dipping?" his lips brushed against your ear, his voice now a low whisper.

"Skinny dipping," you repeated, lips curving into a playful grin. "Just don't get all excited to see me naked, Clark," you teased, pushing him lightly. "And hands to yourself," you added.

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes darkening a little. He couldn't help but smirk as well. He was excited at the thought of seeing you like that.

"I make no promises," he replied with a teasing grin, his raspy voice sending shivers down your spine.

"I mean it, Clark," you huffed, rolling your eyes, though the warmth you felt bubbling up inside you betrayed the annoyance you were trying to fake.

He leaned in again, his face mere inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin. "Can you blame me, though?" his voice dipped lower, rougher, almost a whisper. "You look so damn pretty, I can't help but flirt a little."

Your pulse quickened, but you refused to let him notice it. You pushed him back again, keeping the smirk on your lips. "Yeah, yeah," you drawled, tilting your head. "Am I the first girl you've ever said this to? Or the fourth? Or ninetieth?"

He lets out a short laugh, shaking his head. The truth was, Wally had a certain reputation, and everyone knew it. His charming smiles, teasing grins, and how he made girls feel like they were the center of his world… He never meant any of it. None of the girls he flirted with ever came close to you, to how you made him feel.

He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes. His gaze held yours, unwavering.

"None of those girls were you," he said quietly. "And none of them meant anything to me."

With a dramatic sigh, you place your hand over your forehead, pretending to swoon. "Oh, Wally! How you make my heart race!"

His laugh was loud, unrestrained, the kind of laugh that made your stomach flip every single time you heard it. He rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he nudged you in the stomach. "Oh, shut up," he said, grinning. "You're such a dork, you know that?"

"And you love it," you shot back, tilting your chin up in defiance.

Wally didn't answer immediately. Instead, his smirk faded slightly, and it made your chest feel too tight. He took a step closer again.

"Yeah," he admitted, voice just above a whisper. "I do."

The teasing had completely vanished now. Your throat suddenly felt dry, your pulse hammering in your ears. Something in his eyes told you that he wasn't playing anymore.

Your mouth opened, but before you could say anything, he lifted a hand, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered just a second too long, his touch light, but it managed to burn right through you.

He knew exactly what he was doing. The way he spoke, the way his gaze bore into you, the slight grin on his lips—it was all too deliberate, too calculated, and it made your pulse quicken. His eyes didn't lie, it was pure desire that clouded them and his judgment too. Wally had always been a flirt with everyone, and you were no exception. There had always been playful and flirty banter between you, but it was nothing more than a game. Nothing more than playful teasing. This? This felt different, it felt real. Lines were getting blurry, and your body was reacting in a way you never thought possible.

"You're trouble, you know that?" he murmured, his thumb grazing your jaw.

Your breath hitched. "Takes one to know one," you whispered back.

His eyes darkened, and for a second, you thought he was going to close the distance between you completely. Your heart slammed against your ribs, anticipation running through every nerve in your body.

With a smooth, effortless motion, Wally pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside like it was nothing. He knew you were watching him, and you did. You watched him, you couldn't tear your eyes away, hypnotized by his every movement, by the way the moonlight caressed his skin, his body gleaming under the soft light. You had seen him shirtless plenty of times before–he loved to work out and flaunt what he'd earned. But tonight? Tonight felt so much different. 

Your heart skipped a beat as you let your gaze travel down his chest, the way his abs tightened as he took off his shorts, kicking them aside, leaving only his boxers on. "You coming?" his voice was casual. But the way his eyes roamed over you, the way his smirk depended as he noticed the way you couldn’t keep your eyes off him, it was anything but innocent. "Go ahead," he added, nodding toward the water. "Get in first. I'll be right behind you."

You folded your arms over your chest, tilting your head as you arched a brow. "Oh, I see what you're doing," you mused, propping yourself on your hip. "You want me to strip first so you can get a show, huh?"

Wally's grin became bigger, shameless, and cocky. "And if I do?" he murmured.

"Then that makes you predictable," you shot back, tilting your head trying to feign disinterest.

His smirk didn't waver. If anything, it grew bolder. "Or just a man with very good taste," he countered smoothly, stepping closer. "But, hey, if you're too shy—"

Before he could finish, you grabbed the hem of your white shirt and pulled it over your head, letting it drop carelessly onto the ground. His smirk vanished. It was only for a second, but you saw it, the way his throat bobbed, the way his gaze dropped, drinking every inch of you. Satisfaction curled in your stomach.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips. That cocky smirk? Gone. Replaced by something you couldn't quite place, something darker, deeper. Something raw.

You stepped toward the pool, your back to him, deliberately ignoring his presence, pretending you didn't feel the heat of his gaze burning into you. "You were saying?" you teased, sliding your skirt down inch by inch, slowly, letting it slip past your thighs and pool at your feet before stepping out of it. "What was that about me being too shy?"

A smirk tugged at your lips as you tilted your head just enough to catch a glimpse of him over your shoulder. Victory. He wasn't smirking anymore—his mouth slightly parted, eyes darker, stance tense like he was barely holding himself together. You had him right where you wanted him.

But you weren't done. If he wanted a show, he was gonna get one.

Keeping your gaze locked on his, you let your hands drift behind your back, fingers working the clasp of your lace bra with infuriating slowness. You could see the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his chest rising and falling faster.

The straps slid down your shoulders, the cool night air hitting your skin, making your nipples harden instantly. And still, you watched him, letting his gaze devour you. Letting the bra drop, you let yourself bask in the way his pupils dilated, the way his hands clenched, every single vein and muscle in his arms tensing like he was fighting every instinct to move towards you and touch you.

And he was. God, he was fighting it, hard. Every demon inside him was telling him to grab you, to pull you close to him, to feel your skin against his, to claim you.

With a wicked grin, you toyed with the waistband of your lace black underwear, sliding it down, teasing him slowly. "Cat got your tongue, Clark?" you chuckled. Before he could answer, you turned your head and slipped into the pool.

When you submerged in the water, disappearing from his view, he let out a sharp exhale, the sound more like a whimper. As you resurfaced, he could've sworn he stopped breathing. You were everything he had ever wanted, and to see you there, bare, wet, and exposed? It was almost too much for him to handle.

His hands clenched into fists, his entire body trembling with the effort to restrain himself. His gaze didn't waver—it never left your body, exploring every inch of you.

You looked mesmerizing, the way the moonlight made your wet skin glow underneath it. He was desperate to touch you, to run his hands over your perfectly soft skin.

You ran your hands over your wet, slicked-back hair, your gaze on him. Wally stood there, frozen, eyes dark and fixed on you.

It was intoxicating, the power you had over him.

"What happened to all that smooth talk, Clark?" you teased, tilting your head, a playful smirk on your lips. "You suddenly forgot how to speak?"

That did it.

Wally's jaw locked, his hands clenched at his sides like he was physically restraining himself. For a second, you thought he might actually fight it—might crack a joke, roll his eyes, brush it off like he always did, return to his usual cocky self.

But then, without hesitation, he shoved his boxers down and kicked them aside. His eyes never leaving yours.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He stood before you, the hard lines of his body tense with restraint, every muscle in his stomach flexing as he fought for control. And then there was the unmistakable evidence of his arousal, thick and hard, a blatant display of everything he wanted—everything he wanted from you.

A shiver went down your spine, heat pooling in your stomach as your eyes slowly flickered up to his.

He didn't say a word. He just stepped forward, smoothly, deliberately, like a predator hunting its prey, before dipping into the pool. The water rippled as he disappeared beneath the surface. And then, he surged back up, breaking through the water right in front of you, so close that droplets splashed on your face, so close that his lips nearly brushed yours as he exhaled a deep, slow breath.

You inhaled sharply, instinctively swimming back, but his hands were already on your waist, locking you in place. Holding you right there, right where he wanted.

“What happened to all that smooth talk, sweetheart?" he repeated your exact words, the term of endearment making your stomach flip. His voice low, almost teasing. "You suddenly forgot how to speak?"

Your pulse hammered against your ribs. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to smirk even as every nerve in your body buzzed with anticipation. This was dangerous, you knew it, and he did too.

But neither of you seemed to care.

"You think you're real cute, don't you?" his voice was low and rough, every word seemed to vibrate through your chest as his lips hovered just above yours, his breath warm against your skin. His voice made your knees weak.

You grinned, hands sliding up his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. "I don't think," you whispered. "I know."

A low growl rumbled in his throat. And suddenly, you weren't smirking anymore. There wasn't a single hint of playfulness in his eyes. They were filled with pure and raw heat. Dangerous, Hungry. His grip tightened, pulling you flush against him. Beneath the water, skin met skin, heat against heat. It was undeniable now, impossible to ignore, impossible to run away from. Everything you tried to ignore, every line you'd both tried so hard not to cross.

Everything was collapsing in on itself.

This was happening.

This was real.

"You have no idea what you're doing to me." His voice was thick with frustration, like he was holding back every ounce of self-control. Every inch of him trembled beneath your hands, his chest rising and falling too fast, his fingers digging into your waist. The struggle was written all over his face. He wanted you. You could see it. Feel it. He was trying so hard to hold back.

And God, he wanted to. You could feel it in the way his body tensed against yours, in the way his jaw clenched, in the way his lips hovered right there, barely an inch away, like he was dying to close the distance. Dying to taste you.

You inhaled sharply, your heart slamming against your ribs. What the hell were you doing?

Stripping in front of him? Letting him see you like this, bare and exposed? Teasing him? Knowing exactly what it would do to him?

It wasn't like you at all.

It wasn't like either of you.

This wasn't the playful banter you'd always shared. It never got further than simple jokes and meaningless teasing. This? This was territory neither of you had ever ventured into. There was a thin, fragile line. You wanted to cross it. You needed to. But the fear... the fear of losing everything you had—the fear of losing him—kept you hanging on, just barely.

Wally swallowed hard, his fingers tracing slow, agonizing patterns against your skin. "You're dangerous," he whispered again, lower this time, rougher, as if the words were ripped straight from his chest. His hands tightened against your hips beneath the water, his eyes locked onto yours, searching for hesitation—begging for it, for a reason to stop.

But there was none.

The words slipped out of your mouth before you could even think. "Am I?"

His breath caught a subtle tremor in his jaw. "Don't tease me," he growled. "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

But you did.

And so did he.

His forehead dipped to yours, his breathing uneven. Your hands slid up, curling around the back of his neck, fingers threading through his wet hair. His eyes squeezed shut like he was trying—really trying—to fight it.

But there was nothing left to fight.

You’d both lost this battle a long time ago.

"You know this changes everything," he whispered, his voice raw, breaking over the words. His thumb brushed your skin, so painfully slow, like he was memorizing you, like he was savoring this moment.

Your chest tightened. You knew he was right. You knew this was it—the point of no return.

But it was too late for second thoughts.

Your lips parted, breath shaking. His eyes darkened at the sight of your open mouth, the sounds of your shaky breath making his pulse quicken. He was undone. Completely undone. All his hesitation, his willpower, his good intentions. Gone. He was drowning in you.

"Maybe it should," you whispered.

A sharp inhale. His hands gripped you tighter, and his forehead dropped fully against yours. "You have no idea what you're saying."

You let out a soft, breathless laugh. "Oh, I think I do."

His head lifted just enough for your eyes to lock, his pupils blown wide, lips slightly parted. His mouth was right there. Just a little more...

"You don't fucking get it," he rasped, his hands sliding up, thumbs brushing the underside of your ribs. "If we do this—if I kiss you—I won’t be able to stop. I won’t be able to just pretend it didn’t happen. You know that, don’t you?”

Your pulse slammed in your throat, and you nodded, barely breathing.

His fingers traced slow, lazy circles against your skin, like he was trying to soothe himself, trying to keep his composure. But you could feel it—the tension radiating off him, the heat rolling off his body even beneath the water.

"What if I don't want you to stop?" you whispered.

His eyes darkened, the grip on your waist tightening, pressing into your skin, making you groan. You were sure he was going to leave bruises, but you didn’t care. 

His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking as he sucked in a sharp breath through his nose. "You think this is a fucking game?"

“A little," you replied, a playful smirk dancing on your lips.

Wally let out a strained, bitter chuckle, but there was no humor in his eyes. No playfulness was left in the smile that painted his face. “You wanna keep playing?” he murmured, his voice rough, teasing, but there was an edge to it now, something deeper, dangerous. “Because I can play, sweetheart. But you better be ready for what happens when I stop holding back. When I stop pretending, we can go back to how things were. When I stop fucking pretending we're just friends.”

With a growl, he pushed you through the water until your back hit the edge of the pool. The impact and the feeling of the cold tiles sent a sharp shiver down your spine, making you gasp. The way he mandhandled you with such ease, his grip so possessive, the way his body caged you in completely, it made your head spin. 

His lips brushed yours—just barely. But it was enough to make your fingers clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, like he was the only thing keeping you standing.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered against your lips, pleading. “Tell me you don’t want this.”

You should say it. You should push him away, laugh it off, pretend like this was just another game, another moment of playful teasing between best friends who had spent years toeing the line.

But you didn’t.

Because you couldn’t.

Instead, your fingers crept up his neck, nails tracing the hard line of his jaw, tightening in his wet hair, pulling him closer, your body pressing against his beneath the water. You felt the way his breath stuttered, the way his fingers dug into your ribs, his thumb caressing your breasts, like he was barely hanging on.

Your lips brushed against his as you whispered, “I dare you.”

A sharp inhale. His hands tightened. "Don't," he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. "I swear, if you keep looking at me like that—"

"Like what?" you interrupted, faking innocence as your fingers trailed down his chest, nails scraping over his hard muscles.

His breath left him in a shaky exhale. "Like you want this."

Your lips curled. "Who says I don't?"

A low groan rumbled from his chest, his restraint hanging by a thread. His hands slid down slowly, gripping, teasing, like he was testing himself—testing you. “You don’t get it.”

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I do," you whispered, your mouth just barely on his, so close he could feel your words on his skin. "You're the one who doesn't."

His jaw ticked. "Don't push me," he warned, his voice a painful growl. 

You tilted your head, dragging your nose against his. "Why? Afraid you'll give in?"

"Afraid I won't be able to stop."

A wicked smile danced on your lips as you leaned in, your mouth grazing the corner of his. Not a kiss—just a taste. "You know what I think?” you murmured, your teeth just barely scraping against his lips, leaving the most devastating kiss there. “I think you’ve thought about this. A lot.”

“Tell me I’m wrong,” you taunted him, your voice nothing but a breath, a challenge, a plea. "Just tell me I'm wrong, and we'll stop, we'll forget any of this happened, we'll just—"

His patience snapped.

His hands slid down your waist, gripping your thighs before he hoisted you up, forcing your legs to wrap around him. A choked gasp escaped your lips as you felt all of him, thick and hard, pressing right against your soaked core. A groan tore from his throat, guttural and desperate, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs, bruising you. 

“Fuck,” he whimpered. “You keep grinding on me like that and I fucking swear–” His words cut off into a sharp inhale as you grinded against him again. 

You rolled your hips against him, dragging your slick heat over the hard ridge of his cock, and his entire body tensed.  

A sharp, wrecked groan tore from his throat, his grip turning bruising as he slammed your body harder against the cool tile. His mouth was on you in an instant—biting, licking, claiming—his teeth scraping your jaw, his tongue lapping at the spot he just marked, soothing it just to do it all over again. 

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped. 

You swallowed hard. The words were right there, on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say them.

Stop.

No, you wouldn’t. You didn’t want him to stop. You wanted him to keep going, to touch you right where you needed him the most, to make you his, to claim you, to possess you. You wanted to feel his lips on yours, on your entire body. You needed this, the release–you needed him. 

“Say. It.” His groan was raw, wrecked. His hands ghosted up your thighs, slow, teasing, so agonizingly close to where you needed them. “Tell me to fucking stop.”

You stayed silent. 

His lips curled into a dark smirk. “That’s what I fucking thought.”

His hands flexed, gripping your thighs tighter, dragging your hips flush against him, grinding against your core so hard and deep it made your breath catch.

“Fuck, you feel that?" he groaned, his voice rough dripping with need. "Feel how hard you make me? You did that, sweetheart. You."

His lips brushed your jaw, teasing, before his teeth sank into your skin—not enough to hurt, but enough to make you whimper. His tongue soothed the spot, only to bite again, harder this time.

"You don't think I've noticed? The way your eyes are on me when you think I'm not watching? The way your whole body reacts to me?"

His fingers dug into your hips, hard, making you gasp, dragging your body against him once more, letting you feel every single inch of how much he wanted you.

Fuck.

"You've been playing a dangerous game, baby," he growled. "Playing dumb, acting like all those little teases, all those flirty smiles, all those times you touched me without meaning to—like they didn't mean anything."

A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest.

"But we both know that's not true, don't we?" His grip became stronger by the minute, his fingers slithering lower, teasing the edge of your stomach, dancing along your skin with agonizing precision. He knew what he was fucking doing, he wanted to drive you insane, the same way you drove him to the brink of insanty.

"You know it's not true. Deep down, you always knew exactly what you've been doing to me."

And he was right.

Every glance, every touch, every smile, every almost—you’d been testing him, taunting him. Watching, waiting, wondering how far you could push before he snapped.

And now? He was breaking apart.

His fingers inched lower, making your entire body arch against him, desperate, aching, starving for more.

Please, please, please.

A gasp tore from your throat as his fingers finally found your aching clit, pressing down in slow, agonizing cirles.

Oh, fuck.

Your head fell back against the cool tile, your breath coming out in ragged pants. This was different. He was different. This wasn't the Wally you were used to—your best friend, the sweet, flirty, cocky, Wally who loved teasing you just as much as you teased him.

This was someone else, a completely different version of him you'd never seen before. Dangerous.

"I think you know how much I fucking want you," he groaned, his forehead pressed against yours, his eyes dark, desperate, completely feral with need. "And you've been pretending you don't feel it, too."

You swallowed hard, but no words would come out. What could you say? That he was wrong? That this was just another game?

It wasn't. Not anymore.

You'd crossed every line, and there was no going back.

Your entire body trembled as his fingers moved harder, faster, making your entire world narrow to the feeling of his fingers against your aching core.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, your breath coming in gasps, but you didn’t answer.

You couldn’t. Not when you were falling apart in his hands.

Not when you felt so good pressed against him.

So fucking good.

"And now, baby?" His tongue brushed over your lips, slowly. "Now you're gonna find out exactly what happens when you push me too fucking far."

[fr0stf4ll]

A court of Shadows and Moonlight - Part 16

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the wake of looming war and changing traditions, a gifted healer returns to the Night Court after centuries of wandering the continents. Tasked with stepping into Madja’s legendary role, she must guide reluctant healers, soothe wounded warriors, and face the entrenched prejudice of Illyrian leaders. But as she mends torn wings and broken spirits, an unexpected bond awakens between her and the Night Court’s enigmatic Spymaster. With rivalries simmering and a dangerous threat looming on the horizon, she must reconcile duty and desire, learning that true healing can extend beyond flesh and bone—if she dares to embrace the light hidden among the shadows.

word count ; 6k

Trigger warning; smut hehe

notes; yo everyone, hope that you are doing well. nothing much here this chapter is maybe what you had been waiting for a while now. I'm not realllyyyy comfy writing this kind of content so i hope that you will like it. See you soon, with love <3

previous ✧

The cabin was bathed in a soft golden light, the fire crackling quietly in the hearth. The scent of pine and fresh mountain air still clung to the space, but it was the warmth of Azriel’s presence beside you that truly made it feel like home. You sat on the plush rug in front of the fire, a steaming cup of tea in your hands, while Azriel’s arm wrapped securely around you, grounding you in this peaceful moment. His thumb traced slow circles on your thigh, soothing, steady. His warmth seeped into your skin, calming the storm that had been brewing inside you for what felt like forever.

It had been so calm since you’d arrived. Azriel had kissed you gently, welcomed you with a softness that nearly broke you. His lips brushing against yours had been a reminder that you were here, safe. He had offered you a bath, telling you to take your time while he prepared everything.

When you returned, feeling refreshed and dressed in one of the oversized sweaters Azriel had given you, your damp hair falling in loose waves, you found him already waiting by the fire. He was in a simple tunic and soft pants, bare of his usual armor, his shadows curled lazily around him, blending into the flickering light. No siphons, no Truth-Teller strapped to his side—just Azriel. Vulnerable, unguarded, in a way you had rarely seen him.

It was comforting. And just a little overwhelming.

You sat down next to him, the quiet hum of the fire filling the space between you. For a while, you said nothing, content to simply exist together. But then, you shifted slightly, turning just enough to meet his gaze—and found that he was already watching you.

The intensity of his golden eyes stole the breath from your lungs.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Azriel’s brow furrowed, his hand stilling on your thigh. “What are you sorry for?”

You lowered your eyes, ashamed of the memory of your panic, of how utterly unraveled you had been. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that,” you murmured. “I lost control... I—”

He cut you off gently, his fingers tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to look at him again. His touch was soft but insistent, and his eyes burned with an intensity that made your chest ache.

“Don’t ever apologize for that,” he said, his voice steady and filled with conviction. “Not to me. You have nothing to be ashamed of. I should be the one apologizing—for not being there sooner.”

You blinked, surprised by the rawness in his tone. Something inside you softened, and you reached up to take his hand, pressing it to your cheek as your eyes fluttered shut. His warmth was grounding, his touch so tender it almost broke you all over again.

Azriel watched you in silence, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone, as if memorizing every detail of your face. When you finally opened your eyes, they met his again, and something unspoken passed between you—a shared understanding, a promise.

Without a word, you leaned closer, your hand slipping around his neck, drawing him toward you. His breath mingled with yours for a heartbeat before your lips met, slow and unhurried. The kiss wasn’t rushed or frantic—it was deliberate, filled with a quiet passion that made your heart ache. Azriel kissed you like he was afraid you might break, but you kissed him back like you were putting yourself back together.

His hands slid from your face to your waist, pulling you closer, his touch careful, reverent. Time seemed to blur around you, the outside world falling away until there was nothing left but the heat of the fire and the steady thrum of the bond between you.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, your forehead rested against his, your fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. His eyes searched yours, his expression so full of affection and something deeper that it left you breathless all over again.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “Always.”

You started blushing, the words catching in your throat before you could even get them out. It wasn’t like you to feel shy, but this… this was something else entirely. You glanced at Azriel, who was watching you patiently, his golden eyes warm and attentive.

“Well,” you began hesitantly, your fingers fidgeting slightly. “I mean, if you still want this… maybe I could cook something for you. But if you need more time, or if you don’t want to, I’d understand.” You bit your bottom lip, shifting your weight awkwardly. “With what we learned at dinner last time…”

Before you could finish, Azriel leaned in, silencing you with a kiss. It was gentle but sure, his lips soft against yours. You felt the tension drain from your body as his hand came up to cup your cheek.

“I would love that,” he whispered against your lips. “I would really love it, Y/N.”

You pulled back just slightly, your eyes meeting his. The air between you felt charged, both of you blushing, knowing exactly what this meant.

A soft smile tugged at your lips, and you leaned in to give him another kiss—shorter this time, but no less meaningful. His lips curved into a smile beneath yours, and you felt it all the way down to your toes.

Without another word, you stood, taking his hand in yours and tugging him toward the kitchen. His fingers intertwined with yours easily, naturally, as if they were always meant to fit together.

Azriel followed you, his thumb gently brushing over the back of your hand as you led him through the cabin. His touch was steady, grounding, and it made your heart flutter in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

Once in the kitchen, you glanced over your shoulder at him. He was still holding your hand, his gaze steady on yours, as though he couldn’t bear to look away.

Azriel sat in one of the chairs at the kitchen table, his eyes never leaving you as you rummaged through the cupboards. His steady gaze was both comforting and distracting, a soft warmth pooling in your chest as you turned back toward him.

“Anything in particular that would make you happy?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. “What should I cook?”

He shrugged lightly, a small smile playing at his lips. “Whatever you want. I’ll be happy with anything you make.”

You grinned, pulling out flour, eggs, milk, and sugar. “Does pancakes work for you?”

Azriel nodded, his smile growing wider. “Perfect.”

That smile—Mother above, it made your heart melt. Without thinking, you crossed the space between you and kissed him, soft and fleeting. His eyes closed at the contact, and when you pulled back, his lips were curved into a gentle smile that felt like it was just for you.

You returned to your task, starting to mix the ingredients, the sound of the whisk filling the quiet, cozy cabin. A few minutes passed before you felt Azriel move behind you. His arms wrapped around your waist, his head resting gently against the top of yours, and you stilled for a moment, savoring the warmth of his embrace.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with something almost reverent.

“For what?” you asked, tilting your head slightly toward him.

“For sharing this with me,” he said softly. “For letting me be your mate.”

Your chest tightened at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile. You reached down, tapping his hip with the wooden spoon in your hand. “Well, let me finish making these pancakes first, so you can officially become my mate.”

Azriel chuckled, the sound rumbling softly against your back. He pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head before stepping to the side, to watch you again.

His eyes never left you, his gaze soft and filled with something far deeper than affection—something that sent a slow, steady pulse through the bond between you. The room felt warm and intimate, the fire crackling softly in the corner, but it was the weight of his presence that made it feel like you were cocooned in something sacred.

You focused on the pan in front of you, your hands steady even though your heart raced. Azriel was leaning against the counter, his wings relaxed, his golden eyes never straying from you, watching every movement like you were a mystery he was trying to unravel.

The warmth in your chest grew, the scent of vanilla and sugar filled the air, blending with the tension simmering between you—soft, undeniable, like a song reaching its crescendo.

After a moment, his voice dropped, quieter, more serious. "You know... I’ve never had this before."

You stilled, glancing at him over your shoulder. "Had what?"

"This," he said, gesturing around him, though his eyes remained locked on yours. "A home. Something... normal. Simple. Without shadows pressing in on every side."

Your heart clenched at the vulnerability in his voice, and you turned off the heat, wiping your hands on a cloth before walking over to him. His eyes softened as you stopped in front of him, placing your hands lightly on his chest.

"Well," you said quietly, your voice steady despite the thundering of your heart, "you have it now. If you want it."

His hand rose, cradling your cheek, his thumb brushing softly along your skin, grounding you. "I want it," he said firmly, no hesitation in his voice. "I want you. All of you."

The bond between you hummed, and something shifted in the air—a gentle pull, a thread weaving tighter, locking the two of you together in a way that made your breath catch.

You kissed him, slower than before, more deliberate. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you against him. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a promise, an acceptance, a tether. The bond flared to life, golden threads weaving through your souls, sealing everything you had been dancing around for so long.

You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, foreheads touching, your breaths mingling in the charged air.

Azriel naturally sat back into his chair, his eyes flicking from the plate of food to you. His brows furrowed slightly, his golden eyes filled with something hesitant.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice quiet but steady. “We don’t have to do this now, not if you’re not.”

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you stepped closer. “Az, I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t sure. I want this. I want you.” Your hand gently brushed his shoulder before trailing down to his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

His lips parted slightly, his breath hitching at your words, and then he nodded, his eyes softening. “Okay,” he said, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “If you’re sure.”

“I am,” you whispered. “Now eat.”

Azriel chuckled softly, the tension easing just a fraction, though his gaze never left yours. He picked up the fork, still watching you as he cut into the pancake and took his first bite. His movements were slow, deliberate, and you swore the bond thrummed louder in the quiet room, demanding to be fully recognized.

The first taste was warm, sweet—but nothing compared to the flood of emotion that followed. The bond snapped fully into place, not a gentle click but a surge, a rush that stole the breath from his lungs.

Azriel stilled, his eyes widening slightly as he set the fork down. The warmth that spread through him was overwhelming: love, devotion, protectiveness—all crashing into him with the force of a tidal wave. He could feel you in a way he never had before, every part of your soul brushing against his.

Whatever control Azriel had been holding onto snapped. His golden eyes darkened, his shadows curling tightly around you as if they, too, could no longer hold back. In one swift movement, he pulled you into his arms, his grip firm, almost desperate. Your breasts pressed against his chest, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. His lips crashed against yours with a wild hunger, the kiss deep and demanding, stealing the breath from your lungs.

His tongue swept into your mouth, tasting you, claiming you, and you met his intensity without hesitation, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. His breath was ragged, his control slipping further with every second. The bond between you surged, raw and electric, like nothing you’d ever felt before.

Azriel barely pulled back long enough to mutter, “I’ve waited for this, for you—for so long.” His voice was thick, filled with an aching need that sent a shiver down your spine.

You were about to respond when he gripped your thighs and set you down on the table, his hands sliding down your body with a possessiveness that left your skin burning in their wake. His lips never left yours for long—only pausing to kiss along your jaw, down your neck, and back to your mouth like he couldn’t stand to be apart from you even for a moment. His teeth grazed your lower lip, drawing a soft gasp from you.

Your fingers worked at his shirt, desperate to feel him, to touch every inch of him. The fabric fell away in seconds, revealing his bare chest, the hard muscles beneath his golden-brown skin flexing as he leaned into you again. His wings flared slightly behind him, their presence commanding as his body pressed against yours.

Your clothes followed just as quickly. His fingers tugged at the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head in one swift motion, leaving you bare beneath his gaze. His eyes raked over you, his breath hitching as he took in every inch of you.

“You’re perfect,” Azriel whispered, his voice rough, filled with awe. His shadows wrapped around your wrists like silk as his hands caressed your waist, sliding up your sides with a reverence that sent a tremor through you. His lips followed the path of his hands, kissing every inch of exposed skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

“Azriel,” you breathed, your voice trembling with need. Your hands slid down his back, feeling the hard lines of his body, your nails lightly scratching along the base of his wings. His reaction was immediate—his grip tightening, his head dropping to your shoulder with a guttural groan.

“You drive me insane,” he growled, his voice raw, filled with longing. “I can’t— I need you.”

“Then take me,” you whispered, your hands cupping his face, your eyes locking with his. “I’m yours.”

And that was all it took. The tension between you exploded into something wild, something untamable. His mouth was on yours again, hotter, more insistent. His hands roamed your body, claiming you in ways that left you breathless and wanting more.

Azriel’s grip on your thighs tightened, and in one swift movement, he pulled you further down the table, your bare skin meeting the cool wood beneath you. A small, surprised gasp escaped your lips, your body instinctively tensing at the sudden shift. His eyes—darkened and burning with an intensity that made your breath hitch—raked over you as if you were a feast laid before him. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his gaze never leaving yours.

His lips found yours again, hungry and possessive, before trailing down your jaw and neck, each kiss a mark of devotion, a silent promise. His mouth moved lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, down to your chest. He teased your breasts with his tongue, his teeth grazing just enough to make you arch into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as soft gasps escaped you.

When he reached your stomach, his fingers caressed your sides, drawing lazy circles that made your skin tingle. Then he kissed just above your hip bone, glancing up at you with a wicked smirk before lowering himself between your thighs. He spread you gently, one of your legs hooked over his shoulder as his hot breath ghosted over your most sensitive spot. His eyes locked on yours, a question, a promise, a warning—all in that single look.

You stopped breathing as his tongue finally met you, soft and deliberate, exploring every inch of you with precision that only Azriel could possess. His tongue worked you in slow, maddening circles, alternating between teasing and delving deeper until your head tipped back and a soft moan escaped your lips. His shadows wrapped around your wrists and ankles like silken restraints, holding you in place as he devoured you.

Your hands found his hair, gripping tightly, and he hummed in response, the vibrations sending a jolt of pleasure through you. His tongue continued its torturous rhythm, his gaze never leaving your face as he drank in every expression you made. You could feel the pleasure building inside you, a heat coiling tighter and tighter in your core.

Your back arched off the table as the wave of pleasure threatened to pull you under, but just before you reached the edge, you pulled him up, your fingers tugging at his hair as your breaths came in ragged gasps. “Not like that,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desire. “I need you - inside…"

His face was glistening with your arousal, his lips curling into a smug grin as he leaned down to kiss you again, your taste still on his tongue. The kiss was wild and consuming, your teeth clashing slightly as your hunger for each other deepened. You grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him even closer, tasting yourself on his lips.

Azriel’s hands gripped your hips, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. He growled against your mouth, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.

You nodded breathlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you down the hall. Your lips never left his, the kiss growing sloppier, more desperate with each step. His hands kneaded your ass, squeezing just hard enough to leave you breathless again. His wings flared slightly for balance, brushing against the walls as he moved with purpose.

By the time you reached the bedroom, you were both dizzy with need. He pressed you against the doorframe for a brief moment, his breath mingling with yours as he nipped at your bottom lip, a soft growl escaping him. You tugged at his hair, and he groaned, the sound vibrating through you.

He kicked the door open, walking you toward the bed without breaking the kiss. The air between you was charged, wild, and filled with a desire that had no end. Azriel’s hand slid up your back, holding you close as your lips moved against his like you’d never get enough. His breath was hot against your mouth, his voice a whisper of a promise.

“You have no idea what you do to me, Y/N,” he murmured, his eyes blazing with a fierce, undeniable love that made your heart race.

The night was quiet, the world beyond the cabin lost to the soft hum of the wind against the mountains. The moonlight spilled through the window, casting silver shadows across the bed, illuminating the way your skin pressed against Azriel’s, the way your fingers traced lazy circles over his chest. You both lay tangled together, the air between you thick with the aftermath of everything that had transpired between these walls.

Your breathing was steady, content, as you pressed a featherlight kiss to his collarbone. The bond thrummed between you, stronger now, settled, as if it had always been there, waiting for you both to accept it. When you lifted your head to look at him, Azriel’s golden eyes were already open, watching you with something between awe and reverence.

"You’re glowing," he murmured, his thumb brushing your cheek as if to confirm what he was seeing.

You blinked before letting out a soft laugh, glancing at your skin, where a faint luminescence pulsed gently beneath the surface. “It happens sometimes,” you admitted, amused by his slightly stunned expression. “It’s just my magic reacting to—” You hesitated, biting your lip. “To happiness, I suppose.”

Azriel’s grip tightened around you, pulling you even closer, his nose brushing against your temple as he exhaled deeply. “That’s beautiful,” he whispered.

You smiled against his skin, feeling the warmth of his arms, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your hand. The moment felt so… weightless, like something you had never thought you’d be allowed to have.

Slowly, you shifted, slipping one arm free from where it was pinned between your bodies. You let your power unfurl, a quiet hum beneath your skin, and with a simple flick of your fingers, a thousand tiny stars appeared, twinkling softly around the room like a constellation woven from moonlight itself.

Azriel’s breath hitched slightly, his grip on your waist loosening as he sat up slightly, taking in the spectacle around him. His shadows twined curiously through the floating lights, their dark tendrils weaving between them, as if testing their existence.

He was speechless.

You grinned, watching his reaction, letting the stars drift lazily around you both. “You look like you’ve never seen magic before.”

Azriel swallowed, his eyes flicking from the soft glow of your power to your face. “Not like this,” he admitted. “Not something so—” He exhaled, shaking his head slightly, as if struggling to find the right words. “So effortless. So… alive.”

You tilted your head, watching the way his shadows played with the light. “They’re just little stars, Az.”

“They feel like you,” he said simply, his voice low, reverent.

Something in your chest tightened at the sincerity in his tone, the way he said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. You lowered your fingers, letting the stars slowly dissolve into specks of light, fading into nothingness. The room dimmed, left only in the moon’s glow once more.

Azriel’s hands slid up your spine, grounding you, keeping you close. “Tell me more about them,” he murmured, brushing his lips over your temple. “Your powers. How they work.”

You sighed, pressing your forehead against his, your souls threading together through the bond. “Where do I even begin?”

You took a slow breath, letting your fingers trace absent patterns against Azriel’s chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your touch. His warmth grounded you, keeping you anchored even as you spoke of something as vast and intangible as your powers.

“All of my strength,” you began, voice soft in the quiet room, “comes from the astres. The stars, the moon, the celestial bodies that exist far beyond our reach.” You glanced up at Azriel, who was watching you intently, his golden eyes glinting in the dim light. “I don’t create power—I pull from them. In a way, it’s limitless, but I’m only a vessel. I take that energy and transform it, shape it into something useful—healing, light, protection.”

Azriel’s thumb brushed over your hip, his silent way of urging you to continue.

“Sometimes, though,” you admitted, voice dipping into something more uncertain, “it feels like it’s not entirely mine to control. Like something else is guiding me, moving through me, making me act even when I don’t realize what I’m doing.” You exhaled, remembering the moments when your magic had surged beyond your command, when you had barely been conscious of what you were doing but had known, deep in your bones, that it was right. “It’s like… I become an extension of something greater. Something ancient.”

Azriel’s grip on you tightened slightly, his brows drawing together in quiet thought. “Does it ever scare you?” he asked.

You considered his question for a moment before shaking your head. “No,” you admitted. “It should, I suppose. But it doesn’t. It never has.”

He studied you, his shadows curling faintly around your wrist, a silent comfort.

Azriel tilted his head slightly. “What was it like?” he asked. “The first time you felt it?”

You huffed a quiet laugh. “Well, first, I was already surprised to be alive,” you murmured, giving him a small, wry smile.

Azriel didn’t laugh—his expression darkened slightly at the reminder of what had happened to you, of the way you had died and been brought back.

“I wasn’t born with this power,” you continued, your fingers brushing lightly over his scars, tracing them absentmindedly as you spoke. “I had already been using magic to heal before, so in some ways, it felt… natural. But when it first came to me, it was like discovering a part of myself I never knew existed. Not something foreign or overwhelming—something calm, something that fit perfectly, like it had been waiting for me all along.”

Azriel nodded slowly, absorbing your words, his gaze never leaving your face. “Like it was always meant to be yours,” he murmured.

“Yes,” you whispered.

Silence stretched between you for a moment, comfortable and intimate. His fingers traced slow circles on your back, grounding you, as if he were committing every word you’d just spoken to memory.

Then, quietly, he asked, “And when it takes over? When you feel like something else is guiding you—does it still feel like you?”

You hesitated, then nodded. “In a way, yes. It feels like… an amplified version of myself. Like I’m still me, but stripped of hesitation, stripped of doubt. There’s only certainty, purpose. As if I’m acting on instincts older than I am.”

Azriel hummed in thought, his expression unreadable. “Then maybe,” he said slowly, “it’s not something controlling you. Maybe it’s just you, without fear.”

You blinked, taking in his words. He said it with such certainty, as if it was something he had long since accepted about you—even when you had yet to fully accept it yourself.

A soft smile tugged at your lips, and you reached up to brush your fingers along his jaw, tracing the faint stubble there. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

Azriel leaned into your touch, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “Only when it comes to you.”

Your breath hitched slightly, but before you could say anything, he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, his wings curling slightly around you both, shielding you from the rest of the world.

The warmth of Azriel’s body beneath you was intoxicating. As you shifted, the sheets slipped from your shoulders, gliding down your skin like a whisper. His golden eyes, heavy-lidded and dark with emotion, traced every inch of you as if memorizing the way you looked in the early glow of the moonlight.

Without a word, you moved onto his lap, straddling him, your bodies pressing together, bare and unguarded. His hands instinctively found their way to you, gliding over your back, your waist, your thighs—touching, feeling, worshiping.

“I love them,” you murmured, taking one of his hands and pressing it against your cheek.

Azriel arched a brow, a slow smirk playing on his lips. “My hands?”

You nodded, your fingers running along the ridges of his scars, pressing soft kisses against his knuckles. “Yes. I love them.” Then, lifting your gaze back to his, you whispered, “And I love you.”

Azriel stilled, his breath hitching slightly, a faint blush creeping up his neck. But beneath that blush, beneath his momentary shock, something deeper flickered in his gaze—something primal, raw, unshackled.

His body reacted before his words did. You felt him harden beneath you, as if the weight of your confession had ignited something unstoppable in him, despite the fact that he had already been buried inside you not long ago.

“You love me?” His voice was hoarse, laced with something you couldn’t quite place—wonder, disbelief, need.

“Of course, I love you,” you said, your lips brushing against his, your chest pressing against his as you leaned in. “My mate.”

Azriel’s breath left him in a shuddering exhale, his hands gripping your waist as if grounding himself in your words. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly with the force of it.

And then, as if he needed to prove it, as if saying it wasn’t enough, he moved—his knees drawing up behind you to brace your body as he sank into you.

This time was different.

This time wasn’t about desperation, about hunger, about needing to claim or to be claimed. This time was slow, deep, reverent—like a prayer whispered between souls that had been searching for each other across lifetimes.

You could feel him, not just physically but in every part of you. Each slow thrust sent pleasure spiraling through you, not just your own but his too, your bond pulling every sensation, every whimper, every whispered "I love you" through your very bones.

Your fingers clutched at his shoulders as his lips traced every inch of you—your jaw, your throat, your collarbone, as if he needed to feel every part of you, to remind himself that you were real, that this was real.

The pressure built slowly, a slow, searing burn of pleasure curling low in your stomach. His name left your lips in a breathless whisper, and he groaned in response, his grip on you tightening, his body trembling beneath you.

When the release finally came, it wasn’t just an explosion of pleasure—it was a moment suspended in time, where your souls merged completely, where your bond pulsed with light, an unbreakable thread of connection weaving you together in a way that went beyond flesh and desire.

And yet, even as your bodies settled, as your breathing slowed, you knew this wasn’t the end.

Because the way Azriel looked at you—wild, hungry, full of love and something darker—told you that neither of you were anywhere close to stopping.

Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not until the end of this week that you had together. Not when there was still so much of each other to explore, to cherish, to love.

The rest of the week passed in a blur—a feverish, all-consuming haze where time seemed to lose its meaning. It was intense, unrelenting, like your bodies and souls had been waiting centuries to collide, and now that they had, neither of you could stop.

When Azriel wasn’t buried inside of you, when his touch wasn’t marking you, when his lips weren’t trailing along every inch of your skin—it felt wrong. A deep, visceral pull that wouldn’t let either of you stray too far. The bond had settled into place, fully, wholly, and it demanded acknowledgment with every breath, every whisper, every desperate reach for each other in the quiet hours of the night.

Sleep was a luxury neither of you cared for, passing out only when exhaustion forced you to, limbs tangled, breaths mixing, hearts beating in sync. But even then, the moment consciousness crept back in, the hunger returned.

It was never enough.

The mornings were slow and indulgent, Azriel tracing lazy patterns on your bare skin as the golden light spilled into the cabin, casting your bodies in a warm glow. Afternoons were spent wrapped around each other, your laughter echoing through the wooden walls, tangled between soft kisses and teasing touches that inevitably turned into something more.

Nights… nights were madness.

It was a relentless cycle of need and pleasure, of whispered promises and gasped names, of bodies moving together in perfect, desperate harmony. You memorized each other with your hands, your lips, your mouths, until every inch of him was written into your soul, until your name was the only thing that left his lips in the throes of pleasure.

Going home would be difficult.

Returning to reality, to responsibilities, to the looming shadow of war—it all felt so far away here, in this sacred space of warmth and passion. Here, it was just you and Azriel. Just love and longing and the raw, unfiltered truth of what you were to each other.

Azriel lay awake, the room bathed in the dim glow of the dying embers in the fireplace. His arms were wrapped tightly around you, your breath warm against his chest, your body relaxed in the depths of sleep. But he couldn’t find that same peace—not when the weight of everything was pressing down on him.

You looked so serene in his arms, so utterly safe and untouched by the storm that raged inside his mind. But he knew better. He knew that whatever had broken you back in Velaris, whatever had driven you to that panic, had left fractures beneath the surface. And that knowledge alone haunted him.

The thought of your death terrified him in a way nothing else ever had. He had spent centuries walking alongside death, had faced horrors beyond imagination, had endured wounds both seen and unseen—but none of it compared to this. To the quiet, creeping fear that stole into his mind as he held you, knowing that one day, sooner than he could bear, you might not be here anymore.

He was ready to be with you until the very end. Until your last breath left your lips. Until the last beat of your heart.

And yet…

A sharp pang of sorrow pierced through him, unexpected and cruel. His mind drifted to Cassian and Nesta, to Feyre and Rhysand, to Nyx—their futures stretching long before them, full of possibilities, of love, of family. And then he thought of you. Of what little time he had been given.

When he had first seen you with Nyx in your arms, cradling the babe with such ease, such warmth, something deep inside him had stirred. Even then, when the bond had been new, when he had still been wrestling with the truth of it, he had thought of it—of the possibility that one day, it would be your child, his child, resting against your chest. The result of your love, your bond, your future together.

But that future might never come.

His throat tightened, his wings twitching slightly as he fought against the wave of sadness crashing over him. Not because of the idea that you might never bear his child, but because of how little time he had with you at all. The Mother had blessed him with a mate beyond anything he could have ever wished for—an extraordinary, brilliant, and fiercely strong woman. And yet, in the cruelest twist of fate, it felt as if she was mocking him, dangling the gift of you before him only to threaten to rip you away.

And the war…

The war that was coming, the battles ahead—it sent a shiver through him. He knew better than anyone what war did, what it stole, how merciless it was. And you… you would be at the center of it.

He tightened his hold on you, pressing you impossibly closer, as if he could anchor you here, with him, in this moment. You stirred, a faint hum leaving your lips as you shifted slightly, your eyes fluttering open.

You looked at him, bleary with sleep, but instantly concerned. “Az?” you murmured softly, reaching up to brush your fingers along his jaw.

He couldn’t answer—not with words.

Instead, he cupped your face and kissed you, slow and deep, pouring every unspoken thought, every fear, every desperate need into it. You melted against him, responding with the same intensity, as if you knew—knew exactly what was going through his mind, through his heart.

His hands roamed over you, memorizing every inch, every curve, every dip of your body as if committing you to memory. As if making sure you were real, here, alive. He needed to feel you closer, to remind himself that, at least for now, you were his to hold, his to love.

You whispered his name between kisses, your fingers threading into his hair, grounding him as much as he was grounding you.

And so he showed you—showed you with his hands, his lips, his body—that no matter how much time the Mother granted him, he would spend every second of it loving you. That even in the face of the unknown, of the inevitable, you were his, and he was yours.

Neither of you spoke of it.

The truth lingered between you, unspoken, a silent understanding.

For now, this was enough.

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[viviwah]

CHOI SU-BONG (THANOS) - BEST FRIEND

warnings: f!reader, unprotected sex (creampie), slight oral (m receiving), smut + fluff, smau (takes place outside of the games), mentions of drugs, friends to lovers??

a/n: i’ve been seeing so many smau’s and now i’m obsessed ^^

sum: after finding out your boyfriend was nothing but an unfaithful piece of sh*t, your best friend comes over to comfort you.

You sat on your living room couch, legs crossed and mind wandering. You contemplated on whether or not you should call your boyfriend, Nam-Gyu, for the 3rd time tonight. Yeah, he worked late some nights since he was a promoter at Club Pentagon, but you had a feeling that tonight he was busy doing something other than work. You let out a deep sigh and reached for your phone, clicking on his contact, and calling him. You waited patiently and anxiously as the phone rang. It only took a few seconds before someone picked up. Your heart raced.

“Hello?”

The voice of a woman could be heard from the other side of the phone. Your brows furrowed as you pulled your phone away from your ear, double checking to see if you clicked onto the right contact and you did.

“Uh, who’s this?”

“Who are you? You’re the one who’s calling MY boyfriend.”

“Your boyfriend?” you scoffed.

“I guess he’s been lying to both of us.”

“Wh-”

With a swift click, you ended the call, leaving whoever that girl was, dumbfounded. You couldn’t believe what you had just heard. Her boyfriend? Your heart sank and it felt like the world around you began to close in on you. Your breath hitched as tears started to fill your eyes, you shut them, allowing the warm, salty, tears to rush down your cheeks. You knew something was off with Nam-Gyu, especially since for the past month he’d been coming home late, not responding to your texts, and not returning any of your calls. Honestly speaking, it was gonna happen sooner or later. He was a club promoter after all, meaning that he was always surrounded by loads of half naked women and nine times out of ten, he and the women he encountered were under the influence. Being on drugs is no excuse for cheating though, you knew that and you weren’t trying to justify his actions, you just wanted to come to a conclusion.

Why would he ever cheat on you?

You’ve been nothing but good to him for the entirety of your relationship. When he needed a shoulder to cry on, you were there. When he didn’t feel seen or heard, you were there to make him feel both of those things. You weren’t able to come to a conclusion just now and you didn’t want to spend your night crying over spilled milk so you just decided to forget about it for now. You wiped away your tears with the ends of your sweatshirt and grabbed your phone again, this time to text your best friend, Su-Bong, since he always knew how to cheer you up.

You laughed to yourself before shutting your phone off. Su-Bong was a pro at making light out of the darkest situations and that’s why you loved him. You decided to freshen up a bit before he came, changing into some cozy pj’s and just as you made your way back into the living room, the sound of knocking could be heard at your front door. You made your way over to the front door and opened it, revealing your best friend, Su-Bong, who quickly made his way into your home.

“Hi, Señorita.” he flashed a smile and raised his hands that held two bags. “Got your favorites.”

“Thanks, you’re the sweetest.” you smiled to him, watching as he placed the bags onto the table in your kitchen.

“So, what happened?” he questioned, opening a bag of gummy worms and stuffing his face.

You let out a sigh before going into full detail to explain the events that took place about an hour ago.

“Wow, he’s worse than I thought.” his face that was once full of excitement, was now blank and his eyes were full of hatred.

“Tell me about it.” you scoffed as you made your way over to the couch, throwing yourself onto it.

Su-Bong followed behind you, taking a seat on the couch as well.

“I always thought he was too ugly for you anyway.” he let out a light chuckle and you quickly slapped him on the shoulder.

“What?!”, he pouted.

“That’s mean.” you rolled your eyes.

“He’s mean for cheating on you!” he argued.

It had been exactly three hours since Su-Bong came over and most of that time was spent watching movies, making jokes, and trolling your ex. You were having the time of your life with your best friend, almost forgetting that you were going through a breakup. You look over to him, watching as his eyes were glued onto the TV. Su-Bong was so effortlessly attractive and he always made you feel heard which was something that Nam-Gyu failed to do. You wondered what a relationship with him would be like.

STOP.

Why were you thinking like that about your best friend?

Were you starting to catch feelings for him? Were you just now realizing that the love of your life had been in front of your face this entire time?

“What you thinking about, Señorita?”

The sound of his voice rang throughout your ears, ripping you away from your inappropriate thoughts.

“Nothing.” you replied calmly.

“If you’re still thinking about that manwhore, I can help you take your mind off of him. Only if you’ll let me.” he spoke softly as he trailed his hand over your shoulder.

Your eyes met his and in that moment, you realized you could no longer hold back the feelings you had for him. Your arms wrapped around him and you pulled him in for a kiss and as your lips touched his, your eyes widened, and you suddenly pulled away. You realized that what you’d just done was wrong and you attempted to apologize.

“I’m s—”

Your apology was cut short as you were interrupted by Su-Bong’s lips clashing against yours. I guess the feelings you had for him were mutual. At first you were hesitant but soon, you gave in, melting underneath his touch. His hands trailed up and down your body as he kissed you passionately. The kiss that started off so innocently was quickly turned into an aggressive make out session and as the two of you shared sloppy kisses, Su-Bong began playing with the buttons of your pajama top. He pulled away from your lips before speaking.

“Can I take this off for you?”

You nodded in response and he wasted no time, immediately unbuttoning your shirt and throwing it onto your bedroom floor. He eyed your boobs, admiring them, even though they were still confined within your bra. You made your way onto his lap and began trailing your lips along his neck, leaving behind a few faint hickeys. Su-Bong’s hands trailed up your bare back and in one swift movement, he unclasped your bra, throwing it onto to floor alongside your shirt. His hands then rested on your now bare boobs, giving them a light squeeze. You let out a light moan into his ear and trailed your hands down to the waistband of his sweatpants, you pulled lightly before being stopped.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” his eyes met yours, softening as he questioned you.

“Yes, I’m sure.” you gave a light nod as you spoke.

He then slid his sweatpants and underwear off, encouraging you to do the same. You watched as his thick cock sprang up, almost touching his bellybutton. You wrapped your hand around it and then began moving your hand up and down, drawing light groans from Su-Bong.

“Fuck.” he cursed under his breath.

You smirked, fastening your movements and watching as pre-cum started to leak from the tip of his cock. Your warm tongue licked up his shaft before reaching his tip and once your tongue reached his tip, it moved swiftly, licking up all of his pre-cum. You then opened your mouth, wrapping it around the tip of his cock as you moved your head down slowly, attempting to take every inch of him down your throat. Su-Bong felt like he was in heaven, he groaned loudly as he felt your warm mouth wrap tightly around his thick cock, it was enough to make his eyes roll into the back of his head. His hands soon became tangled in your hair as he forced himself further down your throat.

“Enough of this, I want to be inside you already. Let me make you feel better than he ever did.”

Su-Bong instructed you to lay on your back so you did just that and watched as he teased your wet pussy with his fingers, running circles around your clit and sliding one finger in, just to take it out immediately. Your back arched up slightly as you moaned and he loved this, he loved seeing you so weak under his touch. After teasing you for what felt like hours, he finally slid his thick cock inside of your warm and plump pussy, stretching you out. Your lips parted immediately, forcing your moans to flow out like a waterfall. Su-Bong eyed your entire body as he began thrusting into you, slowly, before picking up the pace and thrusting into you quickly and roughly. Your moans grew louder as he thrusted into you faster by the second, resting one of his hands against your right boob and squeezing your nipple as his free hand rubbed circles around your clit, forcing your eyes to roll back into your head.

Who knew he’d be this good in bed?

“Does it feel good?” he questioned in a whisper before leaning into you and kissing onto your neck.

“Y-Yes, it feels so good.” you responded.

“Even better than the way he made you feel?” Su-Bong questioned again, still thrusting into your tight pussy roughly.

You nodded, unable to speak to due to the overwhelming pleasure.

“Let me hear you say it.” his fingers moved faster around your clit as his thrusts slowed.

“You make me feel way better than he ever did.” you admitted, locking eyes with him.

He pulled you in for a kiss and started thrusting into you deeper than he did before and a familiar feeling began to wash over you, one that you haven’t felt in a while. Your pussy gushed, tightening around Su-Bong’s cock as a tight coil began to form in your lower abdomen, signaling that your orgasm was near.

“I’m gonna cum.” you whispered, moaning lightly.

Hearing this only encouraged Su-Bong to fasten his pace and deepen his strokes, his number one priority right now was making you feel good and he was doing a damn good job. Your walls tightened around him once again and he groaned loudly as his cock began to twitch inside of you, he was close too. He tried pulling away but you stopped him.

“Cum inside of me, please.”

He nodded and thrusted into you once again, forcing that coil that had built in your lower abdomen to unravel. Your pussy tightened around him again before you coated his cock in your juices. His cock twitched one last time before pumping you full of his cum. He slid his cock out of your pussy and watched as his cum began to drip out of you slowly.

“I love you, (yourname).” he breathed out, giving you a soft smile.

“I love you more, Su-Bong.” you smiled.

[idkanymark]

[So close to what]

best friends to lovers au | haechan x f!reader

INTRO: your best friend is in love with you but you’re too scared of ruin the friendship to accept his feelings.

w. slightly suggestive

NOTE: Exam season is over and I finally have a little bit of time. How are you?

Do you guys prefer when I use the name Haechan or Donghyuck? Please let me know!

---------

"Did you hear?" Ryujin asked, leaning in with a knowing smirk.

"Heard what?" you replied, raising a brow.

"Hoseok wanted to ask you out—but Haechan stopped him."

"What?" You blinked, stunned.

Everyone knew about Haechan’s feelings for you. He never said it outright, but his actions spoke loud enough. From high school to university, he remained by your side—teasing, annoying, and somehow still your favorite person. You’d lost count of how many times you tried to strangle him, probably resembling Homer and Bart, yet you couldn’t imagine life without him. That’s exactly why you never acknowledged his feelings, and Haechan was smart enough never to say them aloud.

"Do you really not see him as more than a friend?" Ryujin pressed.

"Yes, I'm sure” you said firmly.

Well… that was going to change soon.

Especially that evening, you and Haechan were having your usual dinner night—something that had become routine ever since you recently moved in together near campus.

Coming back from work, you expected the usual - maybe Haechan napping on the couch or raiding the fridge before dinner. What you didn’t expect was to find Haechan shirtless, playing with your dog.

You’d seen him shirtless plenty of times before. But not since he started hitting the gym. And wow—he had changed. Broad shoulders, toned arms, defined abs. When did this happen?

You were too busy staring to realize he had caught you. He turned, amusement flickering in his eyes as he fought back a smirk.

“Oh, you’re back?” he said casually, like he hadn’t just sent your brain into overdrive. “I already prepped everything for dinner.”

“Oh? Mh—yeah, I—” Wait. Why did it suddenly feel hot? Was there no air in here?

“I’m just gonna take a quick shower first!” you blurted before bolting to the bathroom, your heartbeat hammering in your ears.

As you shut the door behind you, you swore you heard him chuckle.

Haechan 1 - 0 You.

By the time you stepped out of the shower, you had successfully convinced yourself that you were not affected by Haechan’s sudden gym-induced glow-up. You were just tired. Stressed. Hungry. That’s all.

You walked into the kitchen, determined to act normal, only to find Haechan already setting up the ingredients. His damp hair was pushed back, a few strands falling lazily over his forehead. The sleeveless shirt he threw on did absolutely nothing to hide the changes you were desperately trying to ignore.

"Feeling better?" he teased, glancing at you with that look—the one that always meant trouble.

You rolled your eyes and reached for the cutting board. "Just hand me the vegetables."

The two of you moved around the kitchen in a familiar rhythm, chopping, stirring, and sneaking bites of food when you thought the other wasn’t looking. Everything was fine—until you struggled with the knife, your hands slipping slightly on the carrot you were cutting.

Before you could react, Haechan was behind you. Right behind you.

"Here, let me help” he murmured, his chest just barely brushing against your back as he reached around you. His hands covered yours, guiding your grip on the knife.

You swore the temperature in the room shot up ten degrees.

"You’re holding it too loosely” he continued, his voice lower than usual. "You need to be firm."

Firm. Right. Firm grip. Not shaky hands. Not the overwhelming awareness of how close he was, how warm he felt, how good he smelled—why does he smell so good?!

"You okay?" he asked, his breath fanning against your ear.

No. Absolutely not.

"Yeah! Of course! Totally fine!" you blurted, stepping forward so fast you nearly knocked the bowl off the counter. "You know what? Maybe you should handle the cutting. I’ll just… stir."

Haechan watched you with amusement, the corners of his lips twitching upward. "You’re acting weird” he said, crossing his arms.

You grabbed the nearest spoon and pointed it at him. "I am not acting weird. You’re acting weird!"

He just chuckled, shaking his head as he picked up the knife again. "Whatever you say."

Haechan 2 - 0 You

And for the first time, you started to wonder if maybe—just maybe—you weren’t as immune to him as you thought.

-----

A road trip was long overdue. Ever since Haechan got his driver license, it had been your thing- just you, Haechan, the open road, a questionable playlist, the endless banter. Nothing had changed.

Or so you thought.

As you hopped into the car, adjusting your seat, Haechan shot you a lazy grin. “I got everything we might need so you can ride comfortably.”

You choked on air.

Ride comfortably?

Your head snapped toward him, but he was already looking straight ahead, fingers drumming against the steering wheel like he hadn’t just said that. Oh, this man was choosing his words very carefully these days.

“Oh?” You cleared your throat, narrowing your eyes. “And what exactly does that mean?”

Haechan turned to you, feigning innocence. “You know, snacks, pillows, a blanket in case you get cold—” He glanced at you, his smirk deepening. “Why? What did you think I meant?”

Your brain short-circuited.

“I—nothing. I just—shut up and drive” you muttered, yanking your seatbelt on as heat crept up your neck.

The car rumbled to life, and soon, you were cruising down the highway, music filling the space between you. But something was different. You could feel it in the air, thick and charged, every teasing glance from Haechan making it worse.

“So” he started, tapping his fingers against the wheel, “when are you gonna admit it?”

You frowned. “Admit what?”

“That you’ve been acting weird around me lately.”

Your grip on your drink tightened. “I have not—”

“You literally sprinted to the bathroom the other day after seeing me shirtless.”

Your jaw clenched. “I was hot.”

“Oh, I bet you were.”

Your head snapped toward him, and he was already grinning like he won some kind of game. You hated how smug he looked. You hated even more how right he probably was.

You exhaled sharply, turning your gaze back to the road.

Haechan 3 - 0 You

And this trip was far from over.

-----

The sky was drenched in deep oranges and purples as the road stretched endlessly ahead. The entire trip had been a game—one you were losing miserably. Haechan had been relentless, throwing teasing remarks and smug glances your way, collecting points without even trying.

But not this time.

You shifted in your seat, stretching your arms above your head with a casual sigh. “Ugh, I should’ve worn something lighter" you muttered, tugging at the neckline of your top just enough to draw attention. “It’s so hot in here.”

Haechan didn’t react at first, his eyes fixed on the road. But you caught it—the quick flicker of his gaze toward you, the subtle shift in his grip on the steering wheel.

Encouraged, you went in for the kill. “Maybe I should just take this off" you mused, fingers hooking under the hem of your shirt as if you were actually considering it.

That did it.

His knuckles went white against the wheel, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, and he exhaled slowly, like he was physically restraining himself.

Still, he said nothing.

The air inside the car grew thick with something different. No teasing comeback, no cocky remark. Just tension. Heavy, undeniable tension.

And that’s when you knew.

Haechan wasn’t winning this round. You were. You finally got a point.

A slow smirk crept onto your face as you leaned back, satisfied. “Hey, pass me the aux.”

For a second, he didn’t move. Then, finally, he let out a sharp breath, shaking his head with a disbelieving chuckle as he grabbed the cord and handed it to you.

“You’re so annoying” he muttered, gripping the wheel a little too tightly.

You grinned, plugging in your phone. “Something wrong?”

He scoffed, dragging a hand through his hair. “I hate you”

No, he didn’t.

Haechan 3 - 1 You

-----

The ride to Busan had been long. Five hours of charged silence, stolen glances, and the occasional throat-clearing that neither of you acknowledged. By the time you arrived, exhaustion was settling into your bones—but the universe clearly wasn’t done messing with you.

Because the moment you stepped into your Airbnb, you were met with a problem.

“A bed?” Your voice pitched slightly. “There’s only one bed?”

Haechan, standing behind you, blinked at the sight like he was just now realizing it.

You turned to him, arms crossed. “Haechan. You booked this place.”

“I didn’t know that!” he defended, throwing his hands up. “I just saw the good reviews and a nice view—how was I supposed to check that?”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. The tension had already been unbearable, and now, this? It was like karma was punishing you for something.

Still, you were exhausted. Arguing wasn’t worth it.

“I’ll order food" you sighed. “Go take a shower, you must be tired from all the driving.”

Haechan smirked as he grabbed a towel. “Try not to freak out during our honeymoon, sweetheart” he teased, throwing a wink before disappearing into the bathroom.

You picked up a pillow from the couch and chucked it at the door.

By the time he came out, hair damp and smelling annoyingly good, the food had arrived, and you were already eating. He plopped down across from you, stealing a fry off your plate without asking—typical.

For a while, there was just the quiet clatter of chopsticks and the hum of the TV in the background. Then, finally, he spoke.

“I’ll take the couch.”

You paused mid-bite, blinking at him.

Something about the way he said it made your stomach twist. You should have felt relieved. You should have nodded and moved on. But instead, there was this stupid little twinge of… what? Disappointment?

No. Definitely not.

“Alright" you muttered, pushing your rice around with your chopsticks.

Haechan glanced at you, lips twitching like he was debating whether to say something. “Unless…” he started.

You looked up. “Unless what?”

He grinned, leaning his chin on his hand. “Unless you want me in bed with you.”

You stared at him. “I will smother you with a pillow.”

Haechan laughed, shaking his head as he leaned back. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.”

You rolled your eyes, pretending the warmth in your face was from the food.

And the night was far from over.

-----

The tension from the car ride still lingered as you both got ready for bed. Haechan was setting up his spot on the couch, fluffing a pillow as if it would magically make it more comfortable. You sat on the edge of the bed, watching him.

He had driven for almost five hours straight. He deserved a comfortable bed—not a stiff couch—yet here you were, letting your ridiculous nerves and hormones get in the way.

What kind of awful person were you?

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Haechan."

He hummed in acknowledgment, not looking up.

You hesitated, then finally blurted, "Would you like to sleep with me on the bed?"

That got his attention.

Haechan froze mid-motion, blinking at you as if he hadn’t heard you correctly. "I’m sorry, what?"

You exhaled sharply. "I said: Would you like to sleep with me on the bed?"

A beat of silence. Then, "Are you sure?" His voice held an unusual hesitation, as if he didn’t quite believe this was happening.

"I’ll change my mind if you don’t jump on the bed in the next few sec—"

You didn’t even get to finish.

Haechan was already diving onto the bed, a satisfied grin on his face.

You rolled your eyes, shifting under the covers as he got comfortable beside you. It felt… strange. Too quiet. Too real. You both instinctively turned your backs to each other, but that only made it worse.

Minutes passed. Maybe an hour. But sleep never came.

You sighed softly, rolling over. "Haechan, are you awake?"

He turned too, now facing you in the dim light. "Yeah."

Your breath caught. Being this close, lying in the same bed—it was something entirely new. His face was barely a foot away, his eyes searching yours as if waiting for something.

He looked ethereal.

"Can I tell you something?" His voice was quieter this time, careful.

Your heartbeat stuttered. "Yeah."

He hesitated for only a second before saying, "I’ve liked you for a while."

The confession hit you like a slow-burning flame, creeping through your chest and spreading warmth and panic all at once.

"It could ruin our friendship…" you whispered.

"It won’t" he said immediately. "We will never break up."

There was no hesitation in his voice, no doubt. Just certainty. And for some reason, that certainty felt like the safest thing in the world.

"Do you feel it too?" he asked.

You swallowed hard, then nodded. "Yes."

Something shifted. The space between you felt smaller, your breaths mingling in the stillness of the room. Neither of you spoke. You didn’t need to.

And then, he kissed you.

It was soft at first, almost hesitant—like he wanted to take his time, like he wanted to memorize the way you felt. His lips moved against yours slowly, testing, savoring. But when you kissed him back, he exhaled against your skin, pulling you in just a little closer. His fingers brushed against your cheek, warm and steady, anchoring you in the moment.

The kiss deepened, unspoken emotions spilling into it—years of teasing, of unspoken tension, of lingering glances neither of you ever acknowledged. And now? Now it was undeniable.

When you finally broke apart, both of you breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, his hand still cradling your face.

Then, just as you thought the moment couldn’t get any more overwhelming, Haechan smirked.

"Oh, by the way," he murmured, "I did know there was only one bed"

Silence.

Your eyes widened. "You WHAT?!"

Before he could react, you shoved him, grabbing a pillow to physically wipe that smirk off his face.

Haechan burst into laughter, dodging your attacks. "Hey, don’t be mad! It worked, didn’t it?"

"YOU’RE UNBELIEVABLE!"

Still grinning, he caught your wrists, pulling you back down beside him with a chuckle. "Come on, sweetheart, you still feel like yelling at me?"

You huffed, glaring at him. But the warmth in his gaze, the lingering feeling of his lips on yours—it was impossible to stay mad.

Haechan 4 - 1 You

And somehow, you didn’t even mind.

But then the laughter finally died down, leaving only the sound of your breaths in the quiet room. Haechan was still grinning, lying beside you like he had just won the biggest game of his life. Technically, he had.

You glared at him, still trying to process everything. The confession. The kiss. The fact that he had planned the one-bed situation all along.

But before you could throw another insult his way, he suddenly smirked—that famous smirk, the one that always meant trouble.

"Do you remember my suggestion?" he asked, voice dripping with amusement.

You frowned. "What suggestion?"

Then it hit you.

Your brain rewound back to earlier that day. The car ride. The teasing.

"I got everything we might need so you can ride comfortably."

Your eyes widened, heat creeping up your neck.

Haechan noticed the exact moment you put it together because his smirk deepened.

"Are you still up for it?" he asked, his voice lower now, playful but laced with something else. Something dangerous.

You swallowed, your pulse hammering in your ears. You should say no. You should roll over, ignore him, and go to sleep like a rational person.

But you didn’t.

Instead, without breaking eye contact, you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his before tugging him closer.

Haechan’s eyes darkened slightly, his smirk faltering just enough for you to know you had caught him off guard.

“I don’t mind a ride”

That was all he needed.

In a flash, his arms were around you, pulling you flush against him. His warmth, his scent—everything about him surrounded you in an instant. His lips brushed against your temple, trailing slowly down to your cheek before hovering just inches from your lips.

Haechan 5 - 1 You

But by the way he was holding you, it felt like you both won.