#i love him and nothing will ever change that

[beloveds-embrace]

Sooo much angstttttttttttt 😭

I need the boys to wake up and do whatever it takes to fix it, please, I can't take the angst 😭😭😭

Does this count as fix-it? 🤔 hope you enjoy, anon! Also this turned out far longer than i thought it would lol

First Part

Another shift slowly happens within the duchy, palpable. The whispers of servants echo louder than ever, growing sharp and cutting in the empty halls you once used to frequent. They still avoid you, but now they wonder and whisper of your health. It’s not just them; the men you’d once hoped you’d at least be on an amicable basis with slowly change as well, the longer your absence haunts the halls and galas.

John is the first to act. It’s hesitant at first, awkward even, as though he can’t figure out how to approach the shattered remains of what he’s ignored for so long. He stands outside your door one evening, his shadow stretching under the flickering candlelight, fist raised to knock. But he doesn’t. Not at first. He falters, as if the weight of his guilt roots him to the spot.

When he finally does knock, it’s tentative, barely audible.

“…Are you awake?” His voice carries a softness you’ve never heard before, but it grates against your numbness.

You don’t answer. Your eyes barely flick towards the door, not moving from where you are curled on your side.

He lingers, sighs, and leaves.

You had intended to let yourself waste away, in all honesty. Only your mother doesn’t let you; she bursts into your room one day, sneers at the miserable sight you make, and insults you to the high heavens. Nothing new, even if her digs hurt, even if she says she isn’t surprised by no one loving you when you are like this, but she forces you to eat some nibbles and then into a shower; she doesn’t care. She is simply tired of having you be an embarrassment and hiding away from the public eye.

Thus, you no longer stay in your room. You don’t bother with jewelry, with heavy gowns or complicated hair styles or even clearing the layer of dust off your furniture, you just leave your room. Thankfully,

Unfortunately, that means passing by the maids and servants. It means passing by them. It means interacting with them again, though no longer initiated by you.

Simon is the second, and less direct. He lingers in places you begin to re-frequent; the library, the gardens, the corridors near your room. He doesn’t speak, just watches from the periphery, eyes heavy and intense. Once, when you brush past him without acknowledging his presence, he mutters something under his breath, his fists clenching at his sides. But he doesn’t try to stop you and you don ask what he said.

He probably didn’t mean you, anyways. You doubt he wants to speak to you, the obstacle.

Johnny falters the most. Though your interactions with him were few, you’d occasionally hear from the servants about how fun he is in general. His smiles, though they’ve never been aimed at you, look quite fake to you, jokes half-hearted and dying on his lips whenever you pass on rare occasions.

One day, he brings a tray of food to your room himself, hoping to coax you into eating with something he’s cooked just for you. You answer the door, see him holding it, and shake your head without a word. Even if it looks delectable, like the dishes John would get.

“Please,” he says, his voice cracking. “I- just try a bit, hen.”

But you close the door before he can say more. He will try again and often, sometimes just leaving the tray, but you never touch it. You’ve lost weight, you know, and the only reason you are getting some nutrients at this point is because you occasionally sneak into the kitchens late at night for tiny snacks to tide you over. If Johnny knows it’s you, he’s never said anything.

Kyle is quieter, yet more present. The guilt eats away at him the most; he knows that his lack of care and respect had a part in the way the rest of the maids and staff treated you. He spends his evenings pacing the hall outside your room, his head bowed, mumbling apologies that you’ll never hear, wondering which one is best.

Once, he catches you in the garden alone, his mouth opening as if to speak, but you pass him without so much as a glance; you already know he won’t care for you have to say or ask for, he’ll just say he is busy, so you just don’t bother.

He stays frozen in place, his hand half-raised, the words stuck in his throat.

The servants, per Kyle and John’s orders, begin to change. Their guilt is slower to manifest, but it’s there and it’s evident in the way they rush to fulfill your needs despite your reluctance. They clean your room with quiet efficiency, no longer treating you like a burden, even though you hadn’t asked it of them. They leave fresh flowers on your desk and vanity, extra blankets on your bed, and freshly pressed gowns in your wardrobe.

You ignore all of it. It’s a waste of everyone’s time snd effort. You aren’t worth it.

Yet despite their heavy guilt, they return to and continue serving you.

But nothing changes the heaviness in your chest, the emptiness that refuses to leave.

One day, closer to the date of the annual winter gala hosted by the emperial family, you step into the dining room unannounced, your presence startling them all. It’s the first time you’ve joined them in weeks. You move slowly, your posture rigid and tired, your expression unreadable.

“Duchess,” John starts, his voice uncertain, rising from his seat.

“…John,” You sit without meeting his eyes, your movements slow and deliberate. The table is silent, the tension suffocating as John, Simon, and Kyle exchange uncertain glances.

John clears his throat. “It’s good to see you, wife.”

You don’t respond.

The meal is awkward, stilted, but it’s necessary for you; you need to get reused to John for your eventual reappearance in high society. Johnny offers you dishes with a hesitant, hopeful look in his eyes, and Kyle pours your wine with an unsteady grip. John and Simon try to start a conversation, but their words falter and fade when you don’t reply.

Still, they try. Over the following weeks, their efforts grow.

John begins carving out time to spend with you, awkwardly hovering near your door, waiting for even a crumb of acknowledgment. He starts leaving small notes for you- apologies and quiet promises to be better. They pile up on your desk, untouched but not thrown away. You want to believe, but you feel jaded and tired.

Simon offers you quiet companionship, instead. Standing at your side in the garden or library, saying nothing but ensuring you’re not alone. He speaks softly when he does talk, a one-sided conversation with only the occasional hum or noise from you, but he’s undeterred.

Johnny keeps cooking for you, leaving trays of food outside your door with little notes attached: Eat a bit, bonnie. Just for me. You don’t eat much, still have very little appetite, but you do start taking bites here and there, and it’s enough to keep him trying.

Kyle offers small acts of service- holding doors open for you, keeping anything you might need available at hanf, ensuring your rooms are kept warm and comfortable. His words are rare, but his actions speak of endless guilt and the quiet hope that he can earn even a sliver of forgiveness.

The maids and butlers follow suit, their movements quieter, their service more thoughtful. They stop muttering, their eyes full of remorse whenever they see you. They bow in respect, and no longer treat you as if you aren’t a part of the duchy.

But you keep them all at arm’s length. Their guilt is evident, their efforts genuine, but the wounds they’ve left on your heart are deep. Forgiveness, if it ever comes, will not be easily earned. For now, you let them try, watching their clumsy attempts with a mixture of numbness and quiet satisfaction (that you do feel guilty over, but truly can’t help).

Several weeks before the gala, John comes to your office. He sits down, and waits until you are finished with your paperwork before he speaks. You are in a beautiful dress- Simon’s gift- and your hair is in a delicate style, done by your maids. You look pretty. You feel nice, even if the numbness remains. These days, it’s less.

“Duchess, I was thinking,” he began, voice soft and patient. “it might do you some good to get away for a while. A change of scenery.”

You turned to look at him, the suggestion pulling you from your numb reverie. His blue eyes searched yours, and for once, there was no coldness, no distance. “Somewhere quiet,” he continued, “where you can rest… away from all of this.”

The idea of leaving the suffocating walls of the manor, and the heavy tension of the duchy was tempting. And yet, you hesitated, unsure if you could trust the gesture or if it was just another attempt to smooth over appearances.

“I’ll take care of everything,” he added quickly, as if sensing your doubt. “You won’t have to worry about a thing. You can choose who you’d like to go with, or even if you want to go alone. It’s entirely up to you, Duchess.”

Johnny and Kyle appeared in the doorway then, Kyle holding a tray with a steaming cup of tea, Johnny with a small, hopeful smile and a plate of your favorite biscuits. Even Simon lingered near the threshold, his gaze steady but tinged with something softer than usual.

They were all waiting for your answer, their expressions almost pleading. You could feel the weight of their guilt and the sincerity of their offer. It wasn’t much- not enough to erase everything that had passed- but it was something. A step forward.

“…I’ll think about it.” you said at last, your voice quiet but firm. And for the first time in a long while, you saw a flicker of relief in their eyes.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ Stray Kids & Their Favorite Part of Their Chubby Gf's Body ♡

♡ A/N: I wrote this for all of my chubby/plus size/fluffy Stays out there who might be in need of some spicy body worship and a little reminder that you're a fucking baddie worthy of being desired. K, love you, byeee.

♡ Pairing: ot8!stray kids x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: fluff/smut

♡ Word Count: 2.2k-ish total

♡ Warnings: reader's plus size sooo obvi descriptions of chubby bodies, body worship, fingering, penetrative sex, a lil manhandling, tit sucking, oral sex (m&f receiving), spanking, and that's all there is, loves.

♡ Bang Chan ♡

Something Chan gets teased about a lot is how he always manages to find an excuse to have you in his arms. If it’s an arm casually thrown around your waist while you’re waiting in line at the coffee shop or a full on bear hug when you’re sitting on his lap at the studio, he craves the comfort of having your body close to his. He does it even more when he’s stressed or has had a particularly long day. Chan will bring you in close, squeezing you tight, giving special attention to the squishing your love handles. You always giggle, telling him not to play with your rolls. You swear you’ll get rid of them one day and Chan gets all grumpy every single time. They’re a part of you. He can’t imagine you without them. Actually, he doesn’t want to. It’s so relaxing to squeeze them when he’s holding you close, letting the annoyances of the day melt away in your presence. Sometimes that’s not enough though and he needs some extra stress relief which you’re always more than pleased to offer him. He finds it super sexy when you choose to take the lead, climbing on top and riding him at a slow sensual pace while his hands are free to roam wherever they wish. Still, they always find their way back to your love handles, gripping them to bounce you in his lap at whatever speed he desires. And when you're dangerously close to your high, making the prettiest noises as you're ready to gush all over his length, he can hold onto them to keep you right where he wants you, totally at his mercy, unable to do anything else besides moan and whine in his grip.

♡ Changbin ♡

Changbin’s the strongest man you know—one glance at those heavenly muscles makes it impossible to question that fact—but even the strongest men have weaknesses and one of his happens to be your thighs. If you ever want to see this man blush all you need to do is show up to one of your dates in a skirt just short enough that he can get a peek at your soft thighs kissing. He’ll barely pay attention to his meal, preoccupied instead with how your thighs rub together when you walk over to the table or how they seem even thicker when you take your seat, the fabric of your skirt riding up as you settle in. Being the gentleman that he is, he wouldn’t dare lay a finger on you when you’re out in public but once you’re in the car? That’s a different story entirely. It’s one hand on the steering wheel and the other snug between your thighs all the way home. He’ll take his time massaging the plump flesh, occasionally letting his fingers drift up to tease you through your panties. By the time you get home you’ll be soaking wet, desperate for the teasing to come to an end, but Changbin won’t be in a rush. Changbin will press you up against anything—the wall, the couch, the kitchen counter—taking as long as he wants to kiss and lick your thighs until even he can’t take it anymore and he’s tucking your panties aside to taste your juices. There’s truly nothing like the way your thighs shake when his tongue’s inside of you.

♡ Seungmin ♡

Before meeting you stretch marks weren’t something that Seungmin cared about one way or another. He knew that people got them from gaining weight or losing it. It was as simple as that. Of course he knew that there were people who felt insecure about them but it seemed so silly to him that anyone would feel bad about something so insignificant. Meeting you didn’t change that. He still sees no reason to be insecure about them. What did change was his view of them as insignificant. After seeing you naked for the first time he fell in love with them, finding beauty in every single stretch mark on your body. If you’re together and your stretch marks happen to peek out of your clothes he wouldn’t dare tell you to put them away. Instead he’ll take that as an excuse to trace them with his fingertips, following them along the curves of your body. He’s so obsessed that he notices new ones before you do. Not that he’d ever admit that. Seungmin likes to pretend that his fascination isn’t as intense as it is when both of you know the truth. He can play up the indifferent act all he wants but nothing can hide how drawn he is to them. You can literally be riding his face, his eyes too blurred and glossy from being pussy drunk to even see, and his fingers will chart their course right to your stretch marks. It always makes you wetter to be silently praised like that and that’s how Seungmin likes it. You’re so much more delicious when you’re high off of praise.

♡ Hyunjin ♡

To say that Hyunjin’s obsessed with your silhouette would be the understatement of the century. The contours of your body are pure art to him. He could spend all day admiring them. The few times you’ve actually caught him staring are nothing compared to how much he’s actually done it. You don’t even have to be doing anything remotely sexual for this man to get hypnotized. The simple act of you existing in your body is enough to test his impulse control and he fails every single time. It doesn’t matter if it’s the middle of the night, he can’t resist the temptation to feel the warmth of your body beneath his touch. Hyunjin likes to cuddle up behind you, gently pushing your shirt up to let his hand rest against your side for a little bit before his palms are riding the soft hills of your figure. He starts out slow, careful not to wake you, but then you let out those cute, hushed moans in your sleep and it makes him feral. By the time he’s done devouring you with his touch you’re half awake, mindlessly pressing yourself back against his hard cock as he sweetly kisses your neck, his fingers slipping into your panties to feel how wet you’ve gotten without even knowing it. The shape of you is such a beautiful sight to see, especially with all the ways you twist when you’re coming undone around his fingers. And that's never the end of things. How could it be when you always get him so hard and there's so many positions left to put you in?

♡ I.N ♡

If you check Jeongin’s phone he probably has as many pictures of you as he does of himself which is saying a lot for a guy whose job basically requires him to take a million selfies a day. Jeongin treasures the photos he has of the two of you together but his favorites are the ones that are just you so that he can dedicate all of his attention to drooling over how pretty you are. Your face has always been the center of everything for him and he can’t get enough of it. Your eyes, your nose, your lips. Don’t even get him started on your cute little chin and your chubby cheeks. If it’s cold out he races to warm your cheeks with his palms. When he kisses you he never misses the opportunity to cup your face, softly stroking your cheek as his lips move against yours. It isn’t a rare occurrence for him to come out of nowhere, pinching your cheeks and telling you what a cutie you are. It isn’t always about you being cute though. Your face is as seductive as it is adorable and he’d give anything to have your sexier expressions immortalized on his phone. Since that’s just not safe to do—he’d hate to accidentally send that to the group chat—he just has to cherish those moments when he can witness it in real time. It should be illegal to look so good with your lips wrapped around his cock, your cheeks even fluffier all filled up with his cum. Don’t even get him started on what it’s like to see you hit your high. Your face flush with heat, your eyes sparkling with tears, your walls spasming wildly around his cock, his fingers, his tongue, or even your favorite toy. You look like an angel. A sexy little fucked out angel but an angel all the same.

♡ Han ♡

If your body had a fandom, Han's bias would be your boobs. It’s been clear since day one that he’s head over heels for them. You have gorgeous eyes, the prettiest he’s ever seen, but he can’t help how his gaze tends to drift below your neckline to those soft, bouncy breasts resting on your chest. Sometimes he’ll hug you from behind, wrapping his arms around you so that your boobs are propped up by his forearms. Other times he’ll take the not so subtle approach of scooping them into his hands, gently kneading them to feel their weight in his palms. When it’s time to go shopping for bras he’ll be right there, eager to help you pick one out and more than willing to pay for whichever one you want. His favorites are the pretty laced ones that bring your tits together to make for the most succulent cleavage he’s ever seen in his life. As much as he loves a good bra, he’ll take you without one any day of the week. Late nights trapped in studio sessions are always made easier when he knows he’ll stumble through the door of your shared apartment to find you already changed into a pair of his sweatpants and a thin crop top that lets your nipples show through. No matter how exhausted he is, the sight of you innocently skipping around the house without a bra gives him more than enough energy to get you out of that crop top and spend all night French kissing your sensitive nipples. He gets so needy for you, on the verge of whining as his tongue swirls around your bud, his cock straining against his pants. He could cum from this alone without ever having to be inside of you but it’s so much better when he is.

♡ Felix ♡

If you ever want to see Felix get all pouty, say literally anything negative about your belly. He’s super protective of you in general, constantly showering you in reassuring words about your body, but your belly’s the cutest thing in the world to him and there’s no slander allowed. If you’re rocking a dress and he finds out that you’re wearing shapewear or tights to smooth yourself out he’ll for sure find a way around them. Nothing stops your man from squishing his girl’s belly, not even you. It gets to the point that you don’t even bother anymore. You just let your belly take whatever shape it wishes and Felix eats it up every single time. He’s so down bad for it that he holds onto it when he’s going to sleep. Some mornings you even wake up to him dozing away with his head resting on your belly and his arms around your waist. Any attempts to pull him off are useless. He’ll only hold you tighter, grumbling in protest as he nuzzles your shirt up to kiss your bare skin. At this point you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve been late to work because Felix got carried away praising you with his lips and the situation escalated to sleepy morning sex that left you pinned beneath him, his name the first thing to leave your lips at the crack of dawn. There's so much about you to enjoy—the slickness of your walls, how hot you sound moaning in his ear—but he always has to steal a few glances of how beautifully your belly jiggles when he bottoms out.

♡ Lee Know ♡

Meeting Minho through mutual friends meant that you’d already heard a lot about him before you started dating. This included the rumors that Minho couldn’t get enough of a nice ass once he saw one. Naturally you laughed off that information, assuming that his friends must’ve been exaggerating for the sake of a joke. As it turns out, they weren’t exaggerating at all. In fact, everything they said would happen has happened. Minho worships every part of you but your ass gets special treatment for sure. If you’re around other people or not, his intrusive thoughts are always winning. It’s like a compulsion. He has to at least pat it or give it a light slap to feel it jiggle. In his defense, you do have an ass beyond worth worshipping. It’s gorgeous in sweatpants, in shorts, in panties, or in nothing at all. That last one’s his preferred option though and he won’t even try to deny it. No matter how delicious your plush ass looks in some lace panties, it’ll never beat the perfection of seeing you without them. And when you let him bend you over to spank you as hard as he wants? This man doesn’t know what to do with himself. He can only keep it together for so long before he’s easing his cock into you to feel how every slap has you trembling, the vibrations traveling through your body while you're just dripping down his length. You're usually a bit sore after but it's totally worth it for something that feels so good. Plus Minho always kisses it better.

[spitdrunken]

HIAHA I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE MR SCARLETELLA CAN YOU WRITE MORE. so odd and unsettling and obscene m just giggling with delight

HIIII thank you so much for the high praise <3 this has kind of a different vibe from the last one but plays with similar-esque concepts!!!! this is 'weird and obscene' LMAO

Notes: Suggestive, mild body horror, bolded = dialogue in the Other World's language.

==========================

How do you touch a man without a physical form? Or, you suppose, 'man' isn't quite the correct term. 'Apparition' would perhaps best describe him. Though he can reach out to you and make you feel the illusion of touch, you can't actually make contact with him. Your hand passes through him as if he were nothing but air.

You don't think he minds. It's always a bit hard to tell, with him. Mr. Scarletella ususally just stares you down with a dead look, communication relatively limited. But you would like to touch him! So you experiment a little, an action for which no mutually intelligible word exists. Still, he doesn't move as you poke and prod at different parts of his body, coming up short every single time.

You crouch down before poking at his ankle, just in case. When you look up, your heart stops for just a moment. Mr. Scarletella's neck is snapped back, folded in on itself in order to observe you. Vacant-seeming eyes are trained on your every movement. The sight makes you feel squeamish. "God... Not do," you tell him. "Head look hurt. Not funny." There's no other way you can think of to put it. You get up and stick your hand down, waving your hand in the other direction at the side of his head. He seems to understands what you mean, as his skull snaps back in its usual direction. You circle around him. "Sorry. Not want upset you." He says, although you know he'll never really listen or learn, not when it comes to these things. "Me like you. You like me." As if you'd ever forget. You beckon him. Rather than simply leaning down, his form flickers, distorting, before reappearing in the desired position. There's just one place you haven't touched yet. Once again, you extend your hand, the tips of your fingers brushing against the top of his umbrella. The surface is smooth to the touch and wets your skin, accompanied by a small burst of static ringing in your ears. It takes a moment for the significance to register. "Oh! I can touch your umbrella!" You say, forgetting the Other World's language in excitement over your discovery. Even though it's relatively small. You can't touch Mr. Scarletella himself, but the umbrella appears to be 'realer' than the rest of him. ...Actually, maybe the umbrella is a part of his body? He's not human, after all. He doesn't have to exist according to your logic. Your brow furrows. The puzzle pieces of language move in your mind, until they're slotted together semi-coherently. You point at his arm. "Arm you." Then, you do the same for his leg. "Leg you." You wave your arm up and down. "Body you." Finally, you lift your hand in the direction of the umbrella. "Object you? Me can touch object. Touch you?" Mr. Scarletella's smile widens. It reveals a little bit of the void that stretches on behind his lips. "I see. Correct. Object me. Object is..." After which he lowers his umbrella and says a word you haven't heard before. You try to repeat it, and he says it once again, pointing the umbrella in your direction. "Touch umbrella. I want."

It's definitely... Weird. It's genuinely like touching an umbrella. Cold and smooth and slightly wet. But Mr. Scarletella wanted you to do it, and you're kind of intrigued yourself, so you do it. Because there's clearly something happening. As you trace your fingers over the outer canopy, making sure to at least touch every panel a little bit, his visible form starts to flicker and fade. When you apply a bit more pressure, move a little faster, parts of him start to distort and change colour. His arm appears a little dislodged from his shoulder, static rising in the background.

When you pinch one of the metal tips in between your fingers and rub it, he lets out a laugh that is far more high-pitched than you would've expected it to sound like. Clearly, there's some kind of link between the umbrella and the rest of himself. Though you can't envision what it must be like, he's feeling something. Your hand pauses. In the blink of an eye, Mr. Scarletella has materialised even closer to you, nose close enough to touch yours, if it could. The inky darkness of his pupils makes up most of what you can see.

"Me like. Like like like like." He sounds breathy despite not breathing. "Touch more. Again. Me want you."

[brandthefish]

EEEEEEEE This is so rad! I plan on doing this with all my Tavs, starting with Wren! (Tiefling Rogue)

General

Wren can be recruited under a piece of rubble from the crash, somewhere near Astarion.

Shadowheart: "That tiefling seems awfully suspicious. It's rather strange to see someone with that many daggers and in that attire," Astarion: "I must say, our latest aquisition is absolutely delightful. I do love finding like-skilled individuals," Karlach: "Normally I'd tell you to be careful around a rogue, but Wren seems alright! They're the dash, I'm the smash!" Gale: "I have high hopes for our new friend. Hopefully their wits are as sharp as their knives." Lae'zel: "I am torn. On one hand, the purple one seems competent at the least. On the other, hiding in the shadows to make a kill? Cowardly." Wyll: "Keep an eye on that tiefling. They have a look about them I know all too well," (If pressed) "Let's just say that from my time in Baldur's Gate I've met a fair few 'friends' from the Thieves Guild,"

They have a BIG reaction when meeting Astarion. They're a bit cagey and comment about knowing him. Other than that, they act pretty gay around Karlach and are definitely displeased at Wyll's actions. (When they find out Wyll is the grand duke's son, they make a comment about almost carrying out a hit on him before he left Baldur's Gate)

Raise in Approval: Mischief and strange acts of kindness. Necessary violence, like after you've tried to talk out of it. Lower in Approval: Anything excessively horny (Ace moment) or letting someone who is clearly a problem or a bad person live (+8 points for killing Gandrel w Astarion)

They'll permanently leave the party if you come on explicitly sexually. (Agian, Ace moment) They'd give Tav one chance to apologize, and if they don't, Wren's out.

Them being a member of the Thieves Guild in Baldur's Gate. This would come up after finding the Zentarim hideout in Act 1 and more references would pop up after that.

Their personal quest involves them leaving the Thieves Guild and becoming a better person more in touch with their emotions like guilt, remorse and affection. Also letting their guard down. A branching path could be re-joining. You would have more allies among the city and to get in fights (such as another rogue, a drow named Soren) but Wren is back in the guild, and not loving it. They wouldn't be at the epilogue in this branch, called away to a job in Neverwinter.

Stay: "Fine. Not as fun to just sit here. I'll just... sharpen my knives I suppose... or read a book," Leave: "Hells yeah! Let me get my gear," (Because whenever they have the chance, they take off their armor, it ain't comfy)

The shtick with Wyll about almost killing him, and they explain why they didn't. (Change in Thieves Guild management, and their own moral compass) Once the player knows Wren is a member of the thieves guild, Wyll confronts them about it. "Why should we let an assasin stay? How heartless do you have to be to end lives for money?" "Says the man who nearly ended Karlach's life for a devil, oh virtuous Blade of Frontiers. For what it's worth, Wyll I'm not a complete monster." "Aren't you? Please elaborate." "When I was seventeen I refused to carry out a hit. On Ulder Ravenguard's son."

Yes! The Thieves Guild Master (in my fics, that's a human woman named Lorenna, but that role would be replaced with whoever the canon Guild Master is) and another thief named Soren, who's basically their chosen brother. (He's who their dream guardian is based on)

After killing the goblin in the tiefling camp. "Shame... could've prodded the old girl for information. Now there's blood to clean up," After meeting Alfira "humming The Weeping Dawn with their eyes closed before answering you,"

Story Specific

"If something's sounds too good to be true, it probably is. Nothing good ever came to anyone from blind trust."

"Absolutely not. I'd sooner let the bard pluck my eye out, then sell what's left of my soul to a devil. And a right cad of a devil at that."

"Glad he's in the open about it now. But if we can't get him bodies to drink from, he may need com- help hunting in the woods at night,"

"*groan* Gross. I mean, more power to you if you like it but... *shudders*,"

"Oh gods, you're actually doing it. I'll um... I'm going to go sharpen my blades... and poison them," (generally afraid)

They will leave if the player kills the tieflings. "They were good people. They didn't deserve that. I... If that's how you're willing to treat innocent civilians, who's to say how you'll treat us? (If the player knows they're with the Guild) Would you turn me over to The Guild for a high bounty if you were low on gold? Or Astarion to Cazador? Or Karlach to Zariel? Wyll to Mizora?"

Singing along and dancing to Alfira's songs!

"Have fun, I'm going to partaking in the wine, the music, then getting some rest. Don't have too much fun though, we still need to be able to function in the morning ;),"

"WHAT THE HELLS?! NO. THIS IS NOT SOMETHING YOU GET TO APOLOGIZE FOR I- *groans in agony* ... leave me for a moment, if you will,"

"Oh- well let's hope it wasn't venomous, or we're about to have much bigger problems than a foul taste,"

"Alright, fine. Perhaps I'll get used to being on a stage,"

Nah. I think even Orin would be a little wary of them. They're equally stabby, Wren is just aimed differently. And ima be honest, I haven't gotten far enough in my Durge run to know what that is.

Non-Ascended "I'm proud of Astarion. He was able to turn away the power, even knowing how safe it would've made him... He's a good lad." Ascended. "Let's hope he doesn't get too mad with power... I'm already seeing him change and it's scaring me. Let's hope I don't need to get The Guild involved,"

"Gods, I... I hope it was worth it," Narrator: There's more wariness in Wren than you've seen before. They're frightened of you. If they're romanced it adds. "I... I can try to get used to this, as long as all my um... as long as I'm still being listened to,"

"Then make it productive. Focus the urges on the goblins and their leaders. The urges are your arrows, and you are the bow."

They're investigating it crime-scene style, knelt over her body. "Gods... it's not a clean assasination either. Slashes and stabs long after she'd died," they close her eyes. "This was a crime of passion... almost animalistic. And the spatters... was this you?"

"Well... it's a bit sick to say I'm flattered." They hold down Durge and pour wine down their throat that's laced with something to numb them and put them to sleep. After they come to they ask if durge is alright. They just have a few scratches, they're fine. "I will get you through this. My blade and my heart are yours, I swear it."

Romance

Yes they are romanceable! They're a romantic asexual. The player would need to not give them back to the guild or their romance stops immediately. They feel too betrayed.

They do need to be flirted with.

They are technically a poly option. They're ace so they're okay with the player getting their needs satisfied by someone else. "I... I am not in a place to be picky about that, I think,"

You can dance with them at the tiefling party to music played and after share a bottle of wine and cuddle. (Shown to just be cuddling by both of them still having clothes on)

Just the one romance path.

Breaking up: "I... It was good while it lasted. I understand though." Choosing them over someone else: "Oh um... are you sure? I mean, I'm not blind to my looks or anything but... I'm not interested in... carnal delights, like your other flame is,"

"What is Wren's greatest fear?" Answer: Being controlled. "What is Wren's dream?" Answer: To quit the guild and be a poet or a singer. "How does Wren like to fight?" Answer: Throwing knives from the shadows. They named one 'Featherlight Wrath'.

"No protests from me, my love. Just be sure he knows I don't want to be directly involved in sex bit."

Mizora: "Out, devil." "I... I don't blame you for needing something but did it have to be her? Just talk to me next time you want to lay with someone." Emperor: "So... quite adventurous." Haarlep: "Are you okay? Are you hurt? Does he need a knife in his eye?"

No they will not. I think that was pretty clear from the rest of this. "Have fun, I'll be waiting outside when you've finished... ugh, realized it as soon as I said it, gods,"

They ask Tav to settle down with them anywhere not in Baldur's Gate. With the treasures they've gained on their adventure they're living comfortably and they want to take up singing. They would be interested in getting married, but later down the line. At the epilogue party if Wyll is the grand duke and the player knows about his adopted daughter, Wren would bring up adopting a tiefling from an orphanage in the city they're living in. "I don't want to have my own children at all... but I'd love to help a child so they don't have to go down the same path I did.

It would technically be possible to convince them to have sex (DC 20 Persuasion check), but it would be like if you picked the option after Astarion's Act 2 confession. It would just be a fade to black, and you would lose approval with Wren a LOT. If you were at highest, it would go back down to the middle.

Baldur's Gate 3 Companion!Tav Ask List

What if your Tav was a recruitable companion, instead of the main character? (contains major spoilers for the game, and for some dark urge runs as well)

General

Where can your Tav be recruited?  Are they first encountered on the Nautiloid, or in the Nautiloid crash region?  Or are they not recruitable until a later act?

Do the other companions have special comments or reactions upon recruiting your Tav?

Does your Tav have any comments or advice when you recruit other companions?

What sort of general actions raise or lower their approval?

Are there any instances where your Tav can permanently leave the party, depending on player character actions?

Do they have any secrets that can be revealed?  What are the prerequisites for this secret coming to light?

Do they have their own personal quest that spans the course of the game?  Can it take different branching paths depending on the choices the Player Character makes?

What do they say when the Player Character asks them to stay in camp?  How about when the Player Character asks them to come adventuring again?

Does your Tav have any escalating conflicts with one of the other companions, like Lae’zel and Shadowheart’s knife-fight?

Are there any unique NPCs associated with your Tav that can show up during the course of the game?

Are there any moments in the game that trigger unique dialogue for your character? (Like Gale’s anecdote about the barfight after you save the goblin prisoner) 

Story Specific

How does your Tav advise the player character when it comes to the Dream Visitor?

How do they advise the player character on Raphael?

How do they react to Astarion biting the Player Character?

How do they react to the Player Character letting Abdirak whip them?

How do they react to the Player Character taking their first tadpole power?

Will they stay with the Player Character regardless of siding with the goblins or the tieflings, or is it possible for them to leave the party permanently?

What can they be found doing at the tiefling/goblin party?

Do they have comments on who the Player Character chooses to spend the night with? 

Do they have unique dialogue if the Player Character lets them die when they steal the Blood of Lathander?

How do they react if the PC licks the dead spider in the Gauntlet of Shar?

What do they say if the PC tries to force them to go up on stage with Dribbles the Clown?

Is it possible for your Tav to be kidnapped and replaced by Orin?  How is Orin's deception revealed?  How do they react to the PC rescuing them in the Temple of Bhaal?

How do they react to the PC either allowing Astarion to ascend or convincing him to spare the 7000 spawn?

How does Tav react to the PC becoming a mind flayer?  Can they offer to become one themselves?  Does their reaction change if they’re romanced? 

How do they react when the Dark Urge first reveals their amnesia and murderous thoughts to them?

How do they react to the Dark Urge killing Alfira?

If romanced, how do they react to the Dark Urge trying to kill them in Act 2?

Romance

Is your Tav a romanceable character?  Are there any specific requirements to romancing them?

Does your Tav need to be flirted with to start the romance, or will they approach the PC themselves if approval is high enough?

Are they a polyamorous or a monogamous option?

Do they have a special romance scene at the tiefling/goblin party?

Does the romance have different branching paths, or just one route to take?

How do they react to the player character breaking up with them, or choosing another character over them?

What questions can Zethino ask the PC about Tav in the Love Test? 

If they’re poly, do they have a reaction to the PC engaging in a relationship with Halsin?

How do they react if the PC has sex with Mizora? The Emperor?  Haarlep?

Will they join in with the PC and the Drow Twins, or no?

What are Tav’s plans for the future?  Do they propose to the PC, or is marriage not something they’re interested in?

Free space! Share anything from your companion!Tav au!

[giannaln4]

Sorry Won't Fix This

lando norris x fem reader

summary: Lando makes the biggest mistake of his life, bigger than any apology, and you both hoped there was a way to fix it. Unfortunately, you both wished it at different times. (5.5k words)

warnings: angst, cheating, mentions of sex, manipulation, mede up characters, use of Y/N

a/n: I FINALLY WROTE MORE ANGST! This is a long one and I held nothing back. I really did try to make it as hurtful and dramatic as possible and ngl I was inspired by 'Don't worry darling' for a tiny part of this (you'll know when you read it) but anyway, this one does NOT have a happy ending so please let me know what you think!

Check out the original request here!

↺ back to navigation — send me a request!

You had a terrible feeling, but you were too scared to look into it, terrified you would be right. 

Truth is, you started feeling like that just a few weeks ago, when you went back to Lando’s apartment to surprise him with lunch and found an empty room and the bed unmade from somebody sleeping on it. Any other day that would’ve been completely normal, but you had stayed with him the night before and made the bed as soon as you both got up to get ready for your separate plans for the day, leaving a perfectly made bed to come back to. 

Before that day, you would’ve never in a million years thought that Lando would cheat on you. He had always been so loving and caring, even before you started dating, and once you officially became a thing, he would constantly remind you how much he loved you, and on special days he was the most romantic person ever, and you always thought that you would spend the rest of your life with him, but now... you didn’t want to think about it, but you couldn’t bury the thought of him with someone else after it crossed your mind briefly while looking at the messy bed.

Later that night you asked him about it, trying hard not to sound like you were accusing him of something, but his excuse just made you feel worse, your suspicions growing.

“What do you mean?” He asked as he inspected his bed, unsure of what was wrong with it. 

“Well, you know, I made the bed this morning before we left, remember?”

“Oh, uh- yeah, I came back to- to take a nap,” he stuttered, not even looking at you. 

But it kept happening, a few more times.

Things started to change after that; he cancelled the plans you made for when he came back home, he suddenly was too busy every day and your presence might be a distraction for all the things he had to get done for the next race, he was so tired at night he didn’t have the energy for anything, and he even asked you to go back to sleep in your own apartment, claiming he just needed to sleep on his own to be comfortable, even though you were used to sleeping together.

Long story short, he was distant; he was never around anymore, and even when he was, you felt like you were missing him. He was just... different, and you were beating herself up wondering what had changed.

He, on the other hand, didn’t miss you, seeing he didn’t make an effort anymore and he could go days without answering a text or returning a call, ​​and it was not because you took a long time to reply; you would always respond in a heartbeat if it was him. If it weren’t for all the times you visited him at his apartment when a news outlet brought up that he was back in Monaco to make sure he was doing okay, you wouldn’t talk to each other at all.

But today you were feeling hopeful. It was your anniversary, and you had a date night planned — a date he didn’t cancel, so you took the entire afternoon to do your nails, your hair, and pick a beautiful dress to wear, his favourite dress. Your makeup took a while, but you still managed to be ready on time for the wonderful night you had ahead, so you made your way to him, your palms sweating when you knocked on the door.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Was the first thing he asked, wiping her smile off of her face.

“I thought we would go out tonight,” you replied, looking down at your hands to hide your clear disappointment.

“Oh- I guess I forgot to tell you but I remembered I have an important meeting tomorrow morning, so I’m not gonna make it." The door was barely open, and he was standing where the crack was, blocking his apartment as he held the door with a strong grip.

“Okay,” your voice was so faint you barely heard it yourself. “Do you need anything? I could stay here for a couple of hours.”

“No, don’t worry about it. I think it’s better if you leave.”

Tears pricked your eyes, swallowing the small lump forming in your throat. “Why?”

“Well, I’m busy with a few things. You know, I have a really early day tomorrow, and you can’t really help me with a McLaren meeting, can you?”

You shook your head slowly “I guess I’m leaving then.”

The tears you had been holding started to fall as soon as you turned around; you could feel your mascara clumping on your eyelashes and forming black streaks down your cheeks, ruining the contour and highlight you applied in hopes of impressing your boyfriend. You ran back to your car and let it all out once you closed the door. You really thought things would be different tonight, but you were wrong.

You started driving to your best friend’s house, desperate to vent about how terrible your relationship was going since you had been keeping a secret from everyone; the last thing you needed was the media to get in the middle of this. 

“Oh my god, Y/N. Are you okay?” Mia asked you when she saw the mascara tears.

You shook your head as you stepped inside, small whimpers leaving your lips as you tried to stop the crying.

“What happened?” She took your hand and guided you to the couch.

“Lando.” 

“What about Lando?”

“I think he’s cheating on me." You had never said that out loud, and saying it broke your heart even more. “I wish I was crazy, but the signs... I know he is.”

“I’m not trying to defend him or anything, but what makes you think that?”

“Everything, Mia. He has been acting so... distant. Ever since-” You stopped yourself. You never told anyone your relationship with Lando wasn’t doing so well, making up excuses to cover his. You just wanted to hold on to everyone else’s idea of you two, thinking you were the perfect couple.

“What? Have you guys been fighting?”

You took a deep breath before saying, “Remember the last time I stayed over at his apartment?” She nodded in response, “Well, later that day I went back to surprise him with lunch, but he wasn’t there and the bed was a complete mess, and you know I always make the bed when I wake up. He said he went back to take a nap, but he was supposed to be with Carlos all morning, and it didn’t make sense he had time to come back, take a nap, and then leave again, so I asked Carlos, and they didn’t meet at all that day. Is that insane?”

"No, Y/N, of course not.” Mia didn’t know what to say; she wanted to comfort you but she didn’t know how. “And he’s been acting weird since then?”

You nodded, wiping your tears away. “Yeah, he’s been pushing me away since that day. Telling me he doesn’t have time because he’s so busy with the season, which I understand, but not even answering a couple of texts? And cancelling every date we had planned?”

“Is that what happened today? I thought it was your anniversary.”

“It is.” You were nibbling on your lip profusely, looking up so tears would stop falling. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

“Have you told him how you feel?” You shook your head again; you hated confrontation, and you were hoping you didn’t have to do that. “I think you should go talk to him.”

“Right now?”

“If not now, then when? You say you’ve been feeling like something’s off for a while, but you haven’t said anything to him.”

“I don’t know Mia-”

“If he is cheating on you then you need to break up with him, you don’t deserve to be in that situation, and you deserve to know the truth.”

You inhaled as you considered what Mia just said. She was right, but to be completely honest, you weren’t ready yet. “I really want to know, but I can't.”

“Why not?”

“Because what if he is?” Tears started rolling down your face again, Mia hugging you tight as soon as it happened. “I love him, and... I just want things to go back to normal.”

“I know you do, but believe me, it’s better if you know.”

You stayed there for a while, but ultimately decided to go talk to him, but you needed to put yourself back together before confronting him. Mia helped you to wash your face and fix your hair, comforting you and offering to stay with you once the two of you were done talking. You accepted; you didn’t want to be alone, and Anne, your flatmate, had been going out of town a lot recently, so your apartment was empty, and you knew it’d be a long night.

Once you felt better and ready to talk to him, Mia drove you to his place as you repeated in your head everything you wanted to tell him. You knocked loudly and didn’t stop until he opened. He looked annoyed, and you stormed inside as soon as he opened the door.

“What are you doing?”

“We need to talk.”

“About what?” 

You blinked at him twice. Did he not think you needed to talk? “About us, Lando. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Okay, now you were mad. “Lando, you have been ignoring me for days, and I understand if you’re busy, but it doesn’t explain you pushing me away at all times.”

“I’m sorry if you feel that way.”

There was a moment of silence, both of you staring at each other as you tried to remember the questions you were supposed to ask, but none of them seemed to make sense now that you were standing in front of him “That’s all you’re gonna say?”

“What do you want me to say?” 

“How about you tell me exactly what’s going on?”

You were both raising your voices, but Lando especially. “I told you already, I’ve been busy with the season-”

“I could’ve stayed here with you or gone with you to races if that meant spending more time together, like we have done before.”

“But why would you want to do that?”

“To keep you company, maybe?” 

“But all you do is stand around while I do my job.”

“Lando, do you know how many weeks I’ve spent away from home just so we can be together? And you don’t even care anymore, you didn’t even care to say thank you.”

“I never asked you to come,” he mumbled.

You scoffed before shaking your head. “I wanted to, you know I worry about you when you stress yourself out about a race, you tend to overwork yourself-”

“I. Never. Asked. You. To. Come." He interrupted you, his tone punctuated with each word. “I would’ve been fine without you, I don’t need you in my hair at all times." His eyes hardened, his mouth opening to speak again. “Don’t you have better things to do?”

“I just- I’m your girlfriend, I guess I thought you liked to be with me.”

“I do, but you don’t have to be so clingy all the time.”

You didn’t say anything, hoping you heard it wrong or that he’d apologise, but he didn't. “What?”

“You know, we do everything together and-”

“No, we used to do things together, not everything." You corrected him.

He took a deep breath, as if he was done dealing with you. “Right. Look, I’m tired, we can talk tomorrow.”

You nodded, holding back the tears as you walked towards the door. “Happy anniversary,” you said before slamming it closed and running back to Mia’s car.

Lando sat on his couch with his head between his hands for a moment. How could he forget? He took a deep breath as he got up, looking for a ribbon and a gift he bought for you who knows how long ago.

He made his way to Mia’s flat; he assumed you would be there, and your car parked outside confirmed his suspicions, so he knocked on the door a couple of times before saying, “Baby, I’m sorry. I was caught up in all the things I have to do before leaving, and I didn’t realise what day it was." But he got no response. “Y/N please, I know you’re here. Will you please talk to me?”

“Go away, Lando.” Mia was the one to yell, making Lando realise he would not be able to fix it, not tonight anyway. 

“Okay, I’m leaving this here. I- I love you.”

You called in sick for your job the next day, your sore eyes and pounding headache being the only things you could think about. Well, that and Lando.

You were staring at the gift he bought for your one-year anniversary — what you were supposed to celebrate the day before. It was beautiful, and you couldn’t believe he remembered you mentioning it on one of your first dates ever, but it was the letter inside that broke your heart. It looked... unfinished, like he didn’t even care enough to give it a proper ending, so you were wondering how long ago he stopped working on it.

The days after that were rough, long nights of wondering what you could have possibly done wrong, but even then you didn’t talk to him. He tried to, a couple of times, but you needed a little bit of time.

A couple of weeks went by, and you found yourself alone at your apartment, catching up on the work you missed for calling in sick so many times.

It was your birthday, and Mia insisted a million times you go out and celebrate, clear your head, and forget about Lando once in for all, but somehow it felt wrong; you had made plans with Lando a few months back to bring your family to a race so they could finally meet him, but obviously that wasn’t happening anymore, so what was the point of celebrating? You just needed to focus and get things done anyway.

You were thankful that Mia had been for you through it all; you really were, but sometimes crying alone did more for you than having someone tell you ‘everything's gonna be okay.' You were tired of hearing that.

Hours later, you found yourself with a cup of coffee to finally catch up on the last project. It wasn’t really that much of a workload, and you didn’t need to stay up all night to do that, but you were going to anyway. Perhaps you just wanted to be productive, or maybe that was you trying to occupy your mind from the possibility of your boyfriend cheating on you.

You looked at the clock; it was 11:30 PM. You sighed, typing away whatever you were supposed to on your laptop, your eyes sore from staring at it for too long, when a text message interrupted you.

Unknown [Attachment: 1 photo]

Unknown: I heard they have been at it for a while.

That text message induced such a great shock on your tired, worn-out body, tears falling down your face as soon as you read it. You didn’t want to open it as you were sure of what this was about, but your curiosity got the best of you.

Tapping on the notification, you prepared yourself mentally to confirm your terrible suspicions. And they were confirmed.

Your vision was blurry from the tears, but you were able to see Lando standing next to his new Ferrari, and he was with someone else, except you couldn’t see who it was, the big jacket and a beanie protecting her identity. He was smiling down at her, eyes full of... love? Those green eyes you thought he reserved for you only, but clearly you were wrong. His big hands were around her waist as hers went around his neck, and his lips were stained with lipstick.

You broke down crying, curled up on your bed as you wore one of Lando’s hoodies that still smelt like him. You now knew what the truth was, but you didn’t want to accept it. What happened to you two? When did he stop loving you?

It was like your heart was ripped from your chest; all that time you spent together down the drain like it was nothing, like it all meant nothing to him.

You didn’t know for how long you cried the night before, but it was now 1 PM and you were just waking up, so you probably cried for hours. There was nothing left you could do to save your relationship, so you made up your mind to break up with him as soon as he came back from the American triple header.

Y/N: We need to talk, just let me know when you’re here.

The message was left unanswered, as usual. You rolled your eyes and put your phone down, returning to your video call with Mia.

“Do you know who that is?”

“No, sorry.” 

You sighed as you sipped your hot coffee “What about the number? Do you know who sent the picture?”

“What’s the number? Maybe I can ask around to see if any of my friends know.”

You sent her the phone number, along with the picture of Lando and the other girl. “Thanks. Don’t show anyone that picture thought. I’m already embarrassed as it is.”

“Embarrassed? Y/N, he should be the embarrassed one, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Maybe I did-”

“No, stop doing that to yourself. We both know it’s not your fault.”

You nodded. “I can’t help it. I just don’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Was I not enough? Why did he need to find someone else?”

Mia hated to see you going through that, how you felt like you were not enough or that it all ended because of you, and she hated Lando for causing all of that. “I know it’s hard right now, but I promise you’ll understand that none of this is your fault. Y/N you’re amazing, and he’s an idiot for not realising.”

Talking to her made you feel better, but all those terrible emotions came back whenever you looked at the picture again, a million questions invading your mind. How long has he been doing this? Who is she? Does he still love you? What did you do wrong?

A couple of days later, Lando finally replied to your text.

Lando: Just got back. I’m in my apartment

Your heart sank at the notification; you didn’t want to talk to him; you didn’t want things to be over. There was still a part of you that hoped everything was just a misunderstanding, hoping he wasn’t cheating on you and she was just a friend. But deep down you knew the truth, and the possibility of it being a mix-up was down to zero, and after he made it clear that he didn’t want to be in a relationship with you anymore, you decided to fulfil his wishes.

It was a long drive to his home; it felt longer than usual, but maybe you were just dreading the conversation you knew was about to happen.

You took a deep breath before knocking on the door, Lando opening it almost right away.

"Hey,” he said faintly, worried he got caught.

“Hi.” You entered the apartment you once thought you would move into and looked around. You had been there a million times, and so many of those times were special little moments you shared together, but right now it felt like you were disconnected from the space. “How was the triple header?”

“Not great- I don’t know. It was messy, I guess." He tried to give you a smile but stopped himself when he noticed your stare full of fury. “What did you want to talk about?”

Seriously? “I’m breaking up with you." Your voice was weak, but you did not dare let a tear slip past your waterline; he didn’t deserve to see you cry. 

“What?” The shock in his eyes looked so real that you almost believed him “Why?”

“Did you really just ask that?”

“So that’s it? We’re over?”

“Lando, come on, we’ve been over for a while." You stepped closer to him, pain and anger written all over your face as the tears struggled to stay on your eyes. “We didn’t even feel like a couple anymore. Lando, you forgot our anniversary, and that day you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me. And to think I planned a beautiful night for us and bought you a great gift. Do you have any idea how stupid I felt?” 

“I didn’t know you were feeling like that.”

“Of course not, when have you ever listened to me anyway?”

Lando rolled his eyes “Okay, I understand, but we don’t have to break up, I already explained what happened that day, I was busy and completely lost track of time.”

“And I guess she doesn’t have anything to do with this?” You showed him the picture, his demeanour changing immediately.

“Y/N, I- I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry." His eyes and his voice softened as he tried to reach for you, but you turned around and wiped the tears that managed to leave your eyes, a million questions flooding your mind again.

“So it’s true." You were just confirming to yourself what you already knew. Anger and pain washed over your body. Why her? Why her when you’ve been nothing but perfect to the man you loved the most?

“Baby, I can explain.” 

You turned around to face him again “Who is she?” He shook his head, his eyes begging you not to make him say it while yours watered, “Who is she?” You repeated.

“You don’t wanna know.”

“Why? Cause I might find out you’re cheating?”

A few tears started to roll down his face, his hands desperate to hold yours. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Cause you’re gonna hate me even more." You stared at him, even more tears falling as you tried to think who the girl could be. 

“Did you two- did you sleep with her?” His nod was barely perceptible; if you didn’t already know the answer, you would’ve missed it. Maybe he was right; maybe it’d be better if you didn’t know. 

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry.”

“Stop it.”

“I know I fucked up, but she doesn’t mean anything to me, I swear.”

“Shut up, Lando. I just… I don’t understand.”

“Let me explain-”

“And I don’t care how many times you apologise, how do you expect me to forgive you?” You took a couple of steps back, trying to figure out what caused him to do such a thing. “Even if we stayed together and got married and started a family, how can I ever look at you and not think about that?”

"Baby, I want all of that, I want the rest of my life with you, like we talked.”

“That was before you ruined everything.”

“I know what i did is wrong-”

“Wrong?”

“But we can work this out.”

“What? No, Lando, stop.”

“Just give me another chance, please.”

“Is that why you've been so distant, huh? Was she here on our anniversary?” Lando didn’t say anything, and the flashes from Lnado’s knuckles turning white from holding the door closed that night creeped your mind. Your heart ached so much that every time you breathed deeply, it was scorching you to the core “How could you do that?”

“I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologising.”

“You know I didn’t mean it.”

“Just stop… god.”

“Y/N just hear me out, I swear it only happened once.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I know that’s not true. Do you know how many times I came to an unmade bed? And how many excuses you made?” He stayed silent. “I don’t care how many times it happened, you still did it and nothing is gonna change that.”

“I know.”

“You’ve been hurt before, right? What if I was the one cheating? Would you just forget it ever happened and come back to me?” Once again, he didn’t say anything. “No. Of course you wouldn’t. Lando, how could I ever forget what you did? Or everything you said to me when we were fighting, and the fact that you lied and- and cheated-”

“But you came all the way here.”

“Because I care, and you... you never cared, you never tried-”

“I care, I care so much. Baby, please, you have to believe me." He tried to reach out to you, but you pushed his hand away.

"No, you don’t, and if I’m here, it’s because I know after this we’ll never see each other again, we’ll never talk again and this just has to end.”

“But I don’t want it to end.”

“Well, you ended it when you cheated on me.”

He stared at you for a moment before continuing. “But… I want you, she didn’t mean anything to  me." He approached you again, his hope growing a little when you didn’t stop him. He put a strand of hair behind your ear, softly brushing your cheek. “I know I fucked up but I can’t go on without you, I just can't.”

“Well you have, countless times while I was left in the dark wondering if I had done something wrong, crying myself to sleep when I couldn’t get a hold of you, Lando, and in the meantime you were with her.”

“I’m sorry-”

“And you have the nerve to say all that shit to me, acting like I was suffocating you when in reality I was trying to save us!” You pushed him away.

“I’m so sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry, please let’s talk about it.”

“Fine, let’s talk about it. Was she worth it?” He shook his head, ready to leave his pride behind as he kneeled in front of you and grabbed one of your hands. “What are you doing? Stop.”

“I promise it was an accident, it won’t happen again.”

“An accident? Lando, are you hearing yourself right now?”

“Please, don’t let me go." The grip on your hand tightened, pulling you closer to him.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” 

“No. I don’t want anyone else, I want you, Y/N”

“You don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

“But everything I said... I meant it, I love you Y/N and every second we’ve been together has meant everything to me. Baby, you have to understand.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying, you know I’m not." You pushed his hand away, rolling your eyes when another tear rolled down his face. “I know I don’t deserve it but please... just one more chance and I can fix this.”

“Give you a chance? I gave you a chance when I believed your excuses, when I forgave you for cancelling every date we had planned, when I tried to understand why you locked me out, and when I almost forgave you for forgetting our anniversary, I gave you so many fucking chances!”

“But I swear it wasn’t like that, she meant nothing.”

“You’re unbelievable… god, what are you saying?”

“Just think about how great we are together,” he said, trying to hold your torso, but once again you stopped him. 

“Lando, stop that.”

“We’re a great team, aren’t we? We understand each other so well, we know each other better than anyone else, god, I’ll do anything, I swear.”

“No, it’s not gonna work.”

“Yes it will, and I’ll make sure of that.”

“No.” You were having a hard time blocking out how much love you still had for him, but you weren’t forgiving him; there was no way.

“I swear I don’t want anyone else." He held your hands and started kissing them, his lips giving you a sense of home that you missed. "Y/N, please, I love you.” 

You nodded weakly as you started crying again.

“You know I love you and I would do anything for you." He continued kissing you, a few tears falling on your hands. “Do you still love me?”

“I love you... Lan-” You released one of your hands from his grip, squeezing your eyes shut and covering your face.

“See? It will work, we will make it work." You shook your head; you were feeling stupid for almost falling for that. "Baby, look at me, it’s going to be okay, I promise.”

A moment of silence fell into the room as you collected your thoughts again, and he just looked at you hopeful that he could get you back. “Who is she?” You dared to repeat the question as you looked at him again.

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, his voice barely above a whisper when he finally answered. "Annie.”

Annie, your flatmate Annie. She had never met Lando before you, and she wasn’t interested in who he was when you first told her you started dating him, so you were the reason they knew each other for all those times he picked you up from your place, and even then you never considered them to be friends; they barely exchanged any words when they ran into each other. You felt betrayed on a whole new level, not only by Lando but by her too. You had lived with her for so long, literally since the day you moved to Monaco, so you thought of her as one of your closest friends; how could she do that? And these past weeks, when she had been mourning your relationship with Lando, she was there the whole time, and she knew exactly what was happening.

“How long?”

You were getting annoyed at how long it was taking him to answer your simple questions. “The day we went to meet my parents... I drove to your apartment to pick you up, but you weren’t there yet.”

“So you did it at my place?” It wasn’t really a question, and you felt even more disgusted at the thought of them in your own home.

“It was one moment of weakness.”

“One moment of weakness?” He nodded, his hands now holding on to your hips. “But it didn't stop there, did it?”

“I’m sorry.”

You swiped the tears away as you prepared to ask the question you had been asking yourself for weeks. “What does she give you that I can't?”

Lando shook his head quickly. “Nothing, you’re everything I could ever ask for.”

“Then why did you do that?”

He didn’t have an answer; he didn’t really know how it happened or why it kept going, but he couldn’t deny he was enjoying it before he got caught. “I don’t know." He whispered.

“Do you love her?”

“No, of course not. I love you." He was holding you tighter, convinced that if he held you long enough, you would want to stay.

“Oh my god, I’m so stupid.”

“You know it didn’t mean anything, it was a mistake-”

“Get your hands off me, I’m leaving,” you said as you tried to free yourself.

“Baby, please don’t leave, you have to hear me out.”

“Lando, let go. I don’t wanna be here." Your words struggled to come out from how much you were crying. 

“Please don’t, I don’t wanna let you go." He looked up at you, his eyes begging for forgiveness. “Let’s just talk about it, yeah? Let me explain.”

“Save it, Lando, it’s over.” 

“I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. This is obviously my fault, so I’ll do whatever it takes to get you to stay, just please, one more chance is all I’m asking for.” You finally freed yourself, and your only goal was to go back to your apartment and cry all your pain away. You turned around and headed to the door; his hand tried to come to stop you, but you flinched away. You couldn’t bear to hear another word from him. "Baby, please, I love you.”

You turned around to face him one last time, spotting Lando still on his knees in the middle of his living room. “So you’ve said, but how can you hurt someone you claim to love so much?” He was about to say something, but you didn’t wanna hear it. “There’s nothing you can do to get me to stay, you threw everything away.”

“I know, my love, but-”

“I’m gonna leave and you’re gonna stay here, just… leave me alone, I don’t ever wanna see you again.”

You exited the room, leaving Lando alone and a complete mess. He regretted what he did, and he wanted to think that if you would just give him a chance to explain himself, you’d forgive him. But he knew that would never be the case and that his mistake was bigger than any apology; you were right to leave him.

He stared at the door for too long, taking in every emotion he was feeling: remorse, anger, pain, agony... he just felt like life was being sucked out of his body because he ruined the most important part of it, and there’s no one to blame but himself.

[jeonginsleftcheek]

By The Pool

pairing: hyunjin x afab!reader

genre: smut, strangers to ???

wc: 2.5k

warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, pinch of degradation, reader is called 'slut' once, cum tasting, creampie

a/n: since i found out he has a lifeguard license on skz code i needed to write this🫠

masterlist

You thought it was going to be another boring month at the resort.

It was a place you knew very well ever since you were a child, your parents always took you there, every summer was the same.

Even now, when you were a student and no longer living with them, you couldn't escape the three weeks they wanted to spend there with you and your brother as a family.

But, there was nothing boring about the eye candy you noticed by the pool.

Every year, there was a new lifeguard on duty and though they were all fit men and women, no one captured your attention like he did.

There was something about him and you made it your mission to seduce him, wanting to have some fun and spice up your summer.

Quickly, you asked around since you knew the staff well, finding out his name is Hyunjin, he's your age and here on a student job, and most importantly single (though you have no idea how no one has snatched him up yet).

You came to the pool every day, happy that you bought some cute swimsuits that revealed more than they covered.

You made sure to be right in his view as you put on sunscreen, slowly spreading the thick liquid all over your body.

You saw him staring and gulping, before averting his eyes and acting unaffected but the tips of his ears matched the red color of his swim trunks.

Of course, you amped it all up with bending over as you spread your towel over the deck chair, showing Hyunjin your cleavage.

Giggling to yourself when you saw his eyes twitch as he adjusted in his lifeguard chair, you lay down with your sunglasses on so you can feast your eyes on him the whole time.

Hyunjin did his duty well and you watched him like a hawk, any time he had to jump in, he would toss his shirt off and you loved to admire his muscles.

He was made to be in water, looked so natural as he swam and he did his job perfectly, making it obvious why he was hired.

By the fifth day, you got fed up with exchanging looks and nothing else so you decided to take matters into your own hands.

If he wasn't gonna approach you, you were gonna do it yourself.

It was a nice sunny Friday, not that you really cared what day it was since you were on vacation, the day was only important because you planned on having Hyunjin all to yourself today.

As per usual, you watched him work and he stole glances at you as much as he could.

After some kid was making a mess in the water and Hyunjin had to jump in to stop them, you watched his wet body, the clear droplets of water running down his back and shoulders as his muscles flexed.

The summer heat was nothing compared to the heat erupting inside you.

You waited patiently for another hour before his shift ended.

The other lifeguard then came to take his shift and you saw him and Hyunjin talking, which was your cue to stand up and run to the pool house where lifeguards usually leave their things and change.

You made sure no one was there and waited for Hyunjin to make his way to you.

You heard footsteps and with bathed breath you hid behind the wall like some stalker and almost laughed at yourself for doing so much for just some dick.

But it wasn't any dick.

You've never wanted anyone as much as you wanted Hyunjin.

Ever since you set your eyes on him, you couldn't stop fantasizing about him, every night when you touched yourself you imagined different scenarios and they all included Hyunjin.

You peeked and saw him get in and then you waited a few moments before knocking on the door and coming in just as he called out.

He probably thought it was one of the staff members, judging by the shocked look on his face when he turned around and saw you.

You giggled, as he gave you the elevator eyes, you were wearing your skimpiest bathing suit yet.

He quickly looked up as you cleared your throat, struggling not to look down at your breasts again.

"D-did you need something?" he stutters, clutching the towel in his hand.

Oh he is simply adorable, you just wanna devour him whole.

"Yes, you." you answer without even blinking and his face becomes red.

"Excuse me?" he swallows, his adam's apple bobbing up and down deliciously.

You chuckle and make your way towards him slowly and he takes one step back, colliding with the table behind him.

He quickly looks back at it, and you find the way he put his hair up in a little ponytail so endearing.

"I think you're hot." you state, standing in front of him now and his lips open and close a few times before he laughs awkwardly.

"Thanks. I- um think you're hot too." he says rather shyly, driving you even more crazy to taste him.

Your hand lands on his arm and you squeeze a little, before slowly dragging it up and down.

"Then, there's nothing else to discuss, is there?" you smirk and lean in, so close to his lips that you feel the shaky breath he lets out on your face.

"I- I- someone could walk in." he whispers and you chuckle.

"I don't care." you're quick to cup his face and crash your lips into his.

A surprised exclaim from Hyunjin gets muffled as you start kissing him and his eyes go from wide to fluttering closed as he returns your kiss eagerly.

Yes, he saw you by the pool every day and he knew what you were doing.

He wanted you just the same as you wanted him but he enjoyed watching you struggle and try hard to get his attention even though you already had it.

He smirked to himself as your bathing attire became more revealing every day and he knew you were slowly losing patience.

Hyunjin wanted you to hunt him down and now that you were here, he decided to reciprocate and show you how much he's been wanting you too.

As the kiss deepens, Hyunjin's tongue swiping over yours and tasting you, his hands slide to your waist and he squeezes before gripping you and swiftly moving the two of you until you were pressed into the wall.

You gasp as he leans back to look at you, a sly smirk on his face.

"You were tempting me on purpose, weren't you princess?" he said in a sultry voice, his hand caressing your cheek, fingertips sliding down to your neck to touch your sensitive spot.

"Was I that obvious?" you tease, letting your hands finally roam free on his hot shoulders, arms and chest.

"Mhm. Waving those tits in my face constantly. Wiggling your ass. What if some poor soul drowned because of your distractions, hm?"

"That wouldn't happen, you're too good at your job." you smirk and he chuckles.

"Sweet talking me won't get you out of this. You're gonna get exactly what you wanted, princess." Hyunjin smirks.

Before you could even realize what's happening, he grabs the strings of your bottoms and swiftly undoes them, letting it fall down and reveal your wet cunt to him.

You gasp, your heart beating hard in your chest in thrill as he hoists your leg up and you hook it around him.

"Is this what you imagined, hm?" he asks with the same smirk as he runs his fingertips on your wet folds, pressing them into your clit every time he comes up.

"Y-yes." you moan, chasing his touch as you rub against his hand and he chuckles, his other hand gripping your breast harshly.

You slide your hands back and undo the strings on the top part of your bikini and Hyunjin helps you with the strings around your neck, the item falling down on the floor as you keep staring into his eyes.

Hyunjin hovers over you, leaning in to kiss you passionately, his lips are so soft but desperate against yours, his tongue is wild like he is trying to remember the way you taste forever as his teeth nip into your bottom lip.

You moan when he starts pinching your nipples and playing with your tits, his fingers pressed into your sensitive clit, massaging it in circles.

You're going crazy as his lips lower to kiss your neck and you can't help grinding against his hand, your wetness spreading all over his fingers as Hyunjin bites into your skin, squeezing and fondling your breast.

"You want my fingers, princess?" he says into your neck before licking a stripe over the bite mark he left on your flesh.

"Yes." you whimper, gripping at his arm.

"Beg." he leans back to look at you and you want to slap him but you know you're too far gone to be snappy.

"Please, fuck me with your fingers." you bat your eyelashes at him and he smirks again, pushing his fingers into you immediately.

"Ah!" you moan as you take him in easily and he lets out a low chuckle.

"You're such a desperate slut. Letting some stranger finger you in a pool house." he laughs, fucking you semi-fast immediately and you moan loudly, meeting his thrusts and not giving a single fuck about someone hearing you.

"So good that you can't even speak?" he fucks into your sweet spot, his thumb pressing into your clit as he presses you against the cold wall, a contrast to your heated body.

"H-Hyunjin." you moan and he chuckles, of course you know his name.

"Say my name louder." he looks at you with a cocky smile and you stutter for a moment as he fucks you harder and faster.

Your legs shake and you hold onto him as he keeps scissoring you open for him, nothing coming out of your lips except his name.

"Cum on my fingers, princess." Hyunjin whispers in your ear as your nails dig into his shoulders, your whole body shaking against him as he keeps plunging into you, the squelching sounds of your arousal filling up the room.

"Ah! Hyunjin!" you whimper loudly as you squirt all over his hand, grinding against him to ride your high as he observes you.

"Taste." he pulls his fingers out, leaving you empty as he brings them to your trembling lips.

You wrap them around his digits instantly, sucking on them and licking them clean as he keeps eye contact.

As soon as he pulls his fingers out, his lips are on yours again, kissing you hungrily as he grabs your other leg, effectively lifting you up and making you squeal as he leads you to the couch.

You're thrown down on it, albeit gently before he quickly takes his swim trunks off and your mouth waters at the sight of his dick.

He is perfect everywhere, you think as your eyes roam all over his sexy body.

Hyunjin is quick to kneel between your legs with a smirk playing on his lips.

"I don't have any condoms." he chuckles at the reality of the situation.

Even though he knew you were trying to seduce him every day, it's not like he thought you were actually going to come in after him today and kiss him so he wasn't prepared.

"I'm clean. Please." you whine, your legs wrapping around him and bringing him closer.

Hyunjin chuckles again, he can't believe you are so desperate to have him.

"Okay, princess. You think you can take it?" he gives you another smirk, sliding the head of his hard cock on your soaked folds.

You whimper as you look at his length and nod quickly.

"Yes, I can take it." you're almost breathless and Hyunjin pushes in, making you moan at the feeling.

His fingers couldn't prepare you completely for his cock but the stretch is delicious and your pussy welcomes him eagerly.

"Shit, you feel so good!" Hyunjin whines as he bottoms out, pushing his entire length inside you and filling you up perfectly.

He leans down as his arms cage you, kissing you sloppily before he leans back and starts fucking you at a steady pace, making your orgasm build up already.

You gasp and moan, spreading your legs more as you take him, the sound of skin slapping against skin making you feel even hotter.

You've never been this wet, your pussy pulsating in arousal as you moan loudly, your body shaking and feeling like you're going to explode any second.

Hyunjin looks down at you darkly, low moans escaping his lips as he keeps trying to bury himself deeper inside your warmth, so close to losing control over himself as your pussy constantly clenches around him, gripping his hard cock.

Hyunjin grabs your breast and your thigh, bringing one of your legs over his shoulder as you whine loudly, the new angle making you feel like he's fucking his cock even deeper inside you and his eyes roll back as he fucks into you harder.

You're so loud that if someone passes by they can 100% hear you moan Hyunjin's name as you grab his ponytail and pull on it while you cum all around his throbbing cock.

"Fuck!" Hyunjin almost growls as his hips stutter, fucking you with even more fervor as he chases his high, his hand leaving bruises in the soft skin of your thigh.

"Gonna cum." he whines, wanting to pull out but you grip at him.

"Cum inside me, I want it so bad." you groan, your eyes filling up with tears of pleasure as the head of his cock keeps brushing against your cervix.

"Fuck, you're so dirty, princess." Hyunjin pants, the sight of him all sweaty and flushed above you takes you over the edge and you cum again, clenching hard around him, his name slipping off your lips once again.

His eyes widen as his cock twitches and he unexpectedly cums hard inside you, spurts of the hot liquid painting your insides and filling you up.

Hyunjin collapses on top of you as he feels you still clenching around his now soft member.

It's quiet for some time and just then you realize that you can hear all the sounds from the pool and some people walking and talking next to the pool house, making you realize that everyone probably heard you fucking.

Hyunjin lifts up to look at you and something tugs at your heart, making your stomach fill up with butterflies.

"What's your name?" he asks and you burst out laughing, realizing you never even introduced yourself properly.

"Y/n." you answer and he smiles.

"Y/n. Pretty name for a pretty girl." Hyunjin leans in to kiss you, his cock slipping out of you and you feel the trickle of his cum seeping out of your pussy.

"Are you free tonight?" he asks, his lips traveling on your cheeks, you jaw and your neck, making you shiver as you caress his upper back.

"Depends what you're offering." you smirk and he looks at you.

"Dinner, movies, a walk on the beach?" he asks and you giggle.

"With a happy ending, of course." you say.

"As many happy endings as you want, princess." Hyunjin chuckles.

"Then I'm free." you say and he smiles before kissing you again.

This is going to be a fun summer.

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny @porangporangmeong @jeonginslefthand @laughatdanger @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @starlost-mochi-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun

[rafeskai]

Life as We Know It — Rafe Cameron

Chapter Four

Two opposites must navigate love, loss, and unexpected parenthood to discover the meaning of family.

Summary: When tragedy strikes, two very different individuals find their lives unexpectedly intertwined as they become the guardians of an orphaned child. As they navigate the challenges of co-parenting, balancing careers, and confronting their pasts, they discover that family can form in the most surprising ways. Through heartfelt moments and unexpected humor, they explore what it means to build a life together—one step at a time.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Character deaths & angst.

Author's Notes: Was gonna make chapter 4 like 5k words but I decided to put it into two separate chapters.

Masterlist: Here

The weight of Sarah and John B.’s loss still felt like an open wound, raw and fresh, no matter how many days had passed since the funeral. Some nights, you could still hear Sarah’s laughter echoing in your head, still feel the warmth of her presence, as though she were just a room away. And John B., with his reckless optimism and that undeniable spark of life that had kept everyone around him grounded, seemed like a ghost that haunted your every moment.

But the hardest part was seeing Willa—tiny and innocent, too young to understand the gravity of it all. Her parents were gone, and she didn’t even know why she cried sometimes, why her little heart was breaking, why her world was changing so fast. And yet, it was you and Rafe who had to bear the weight of their absence, both trying to figure out how to hold Willa together while you were both falling apart.

The days were long and filled with small, seemingly insignificant tasks: feeding Willa, changing diapers, trying to soothe her when she cried. But underneath all of that, it was hard not to remember Sarah’s voice calling out to you, her bright smile in the mornings, the late-night talks about everything and nothing. Those moments were gone, and you felt like part of yourself had been ripped away with them.

And then there was John B. The spontaneous adventures, the way he could make you laugh even on the worst days, the way he’d always come through when you needed him most. Those memories, too, were bittersweet now—something you cherished but also something that threatened to suffocate you.

You tried to stay strong for Willa, to focus on the here and now, but there were days when it felt impossible. There were times when you’d find yourself staring at the little girl in your arms and wondering if you were doing enough. Wondering if she would ever remember the love her parents had for her or if she would only know the sorrow of their absence.

Rafe, for his part, seemed to bury his grief deep down. He rarely spoke about Sarah or John B., and when he did, it was as if the words hurt him too much to say aloud. He was always trying to maintain control—over Willa, over the situation with Ward, over himself—but you could see it in the way his eyes flickered with pain whenever something reminded him of his sister or her fiancé.

It wasn’t just the memories of Sarah and John B. that gnawed at him; it was the guilt. The unspoken weight of knowing that his family—his toxic, emotionally abusive father—was now trying to take Willa from him, from them.

Rafe had never talked much about his dad, not even to Sarah. But in the quiet moments, when the house felt too still and too silent, you could see the rage simmering behind his eyes. Ward Cameron had done unspeakable things to Rafe and Sarah growing up, and the idea of him having any claim to Willa, of him trying to step in as her guardian, cut deeper than either of them cared to admit.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

It was late one evening when the dam finally broke. Willa was asleep, her tiny body tucked beneath the blankets, and the house was finally quiet. You and Rafe were sitting on the couch, the exhaustion of the day heavy on your shoulders. The wine bottle from a few nights ago sat untouched on the coffee table. Neither of you had much appetite for anything anymore—food, conversation, anything other than the silence that seemed to speak louder than words.

Rafe was the first to speak, his voice low and uncertain. "I hate that they're gone. I hate that I can't fix it. I hate that Willa won't ever know how good they were. How good they could have been."

His words hit you like a tidal wave, and for the first time in weeks, you saw the cracks in his tough exterior. He wasn’t the cold, distant person you’d been living with; he was just a man—broken, grieving, unsure of how to move forward.

"I hate it too," you whispered, turning to face him. "I hate that Willa will grow up never knowing how special they were. How good they were. Sarah was... everything. She made everything brighter. And John B. He had this way of making you feel like things were always gonna be okay. Even when everything was falling apart."

Rafe's eyes were distant, his gaze turned to the floor as if trying to bury the memories. "I should’ve been there more. I should’ve been a better brother. I should’ve been there for Sarah. I—I wasn’t enough. I couldn’t protect her from him." His voice cracked at the end, a rawness creeping into the words.

You could feel the pain in his voice, the regret, the anger that swirled with everything else. It was too much for him to hold, and maybe it had always been. Maybe Rafe had been carrying this weight for years, too afraid to talk about it, too scared to let anyone see him broken.

You didn’t know what to say at first. You wanted to comfort him, to tell him that he wasn’t to blame, but how could you? There were no right words, no magic phrases that could undo the past.

Instead, you simply moved closer, sitting beside him on the couch, the space between you closing.

"You didn’t fail her," you said softly. "Rafe, you didn’t fail any of us. You loved her. You loved John B. You’re still here. You’re still fighting for Willa. And that means everything."

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. But in that silence, something passed between you both. The raw honesty of the words, the shared pain, the understanding that grief didn’t need fixing—it just needed time.

Finally, Rafe turned to face you, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and something deeper, something more vulnerable. "I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be a good dad to her—how to keep it together when it feels like everything is falling apart."

You swallowed, feeling the sting of your own grief in his words. "I don’t know how to do it either," you admitted. "But we’re doing it together. We have to. For her. And for them."

Rafe’s eyes softened, his hand trembling slightly as he reached for yours. It wasn’t a grand gesture, but it was everything. "I’m scared, [Y/N]. I’m scared of what Ward might do. I’m scared of failing her."

You squeezed his hand, your voice barely above a whisper. "We’re not alone in this. We have each other."

And in that moment, as the weight of the past few months hung heavy in the air, you both allowed yourselves to be vulnerable. For the first time since you’d become Willa’s guardians, it wasn’t just about fighting for her—it was about acknowledging that the fight was bigger than both of you, that the grief you shared had no easy solution. And that maybe, just maybe, you could survive it together.

But even as you held on to each other, even as the weight of the past few months began to lift just a little, a new storm was brewing.

The next morning, a letter arrived from Ward Cameron’s attorney.

The legal battle for Willa had officially begun.

And this time, you weren’t sure if you could win.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The tension in the house had been building for weeks. The constant phone calls, the late-night meetings with lawyers, the nervous energy that permeated every room. It felt like a storm was brewing, and no one knew when or where it would strike.

Ward Cameron was relentless. He wasn’t going to let go of Willa without a fight. The custody battle was a war neither you nor Rafe were prepared for, and with each passing day, it became more and more clear that Ward had no interest in doing what was best for Willa. He was driven by control, by pride, and by a need to take back what he saw as his.

You could feel the weight of it all pressing down on you as you prepared for the court hearing. It wasn’t just a matter of legal paperwork anymore; it was about Willa’s future. About whether or not she would be able to stay with the people who loved her most—or whether she would be taken away by the very man who had terrorized Rafe and Sarah their entire lives.

The morning of the hearing arrived, and as you walked into the courthouse, a cold shiver ran down your spine. Ward was there, sitting smugly at his lawyer’s side, his presence already like a shadow over the room. You glanced at Rafe, who looked tense but composed. He hadn’t spoken much in the last few days, but you could feel the anger simmering beneath the surface.

“We’re gonna win this,” you whispered, more to reassure yourself than him.

Rafe didn’t respond. His jaw was clenched, his eyes fixed on the door as though he was bracing for what was to come.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

It happened before the hearing even began.

Ward spotted Rafe as he entered the building, and in an instant, the calm atmosphere of the courthouse was shattered.

“Rafe,” Ward’s voice was like acid, dripping with disdain. “Still playing pretend, are we? Acting like you’re fit to raise her?” His gaze flickered to you, then back to Rafe. “You’re nothing. You always were. Just like your mother. You’re not good enough for her.”

You could see Rafe’s fists clenching at his sides, his entire body rigid with tension. He was trying to keep it together, trying to stay calm, but you knew Ward’s words were cutting through him like knives.

“Don’t talk about her,” Rafe spat through gritted teeth, his voice dangerously low.

Ward smirked, then took a step closer. “Or what? You gonna threaten me, Rafe? You gonna get violent like you always do?”

Before anyone could react, Ward’s hand shot out, slapping Rafe across the face with a sickening crack. The sound of the slap echoed through the hallway, sending a chill down your spine.

Rafe stumbled back, his hand instinctively reaching for his cheek where the bruise was already beginning to form. You could see the pain in his eyes, but the rage was sharper—cutting through him like a blade.

“Ward, you don’t get to touch him,” you snapped, stepping forward, but Rafe raised a hand to stop you.

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice tight with anger. But you could see the bruise already swelling, darkening the side of his face.

Ward laughed coldly, his eyes glinting with malicious satisfaction. “This is the man you’re trusting with her?” He gestured toward Rafe, a mocking sneer on his lips. “Pathetic. This is all a joke to you, isn’t it?”

Before you could say anything else, security had already stepped in, and Ward was ushered away by his lawyer. Rafe stood there, silent, his face hard as stone.

“Let’s just get this over with,” he muttered, turning on his heel and heading toward the courtroom.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The courtroom was packed, tension thick in the air. The judge, a woman with a stern expression, motioned for everyone to sit down, but you could still feel the heaviness of the moment.

Rafe sat beside you, his posture stiff, his hand gripping the armrest of the chair so tightly his knuckles were white. You could see the bruise on his cheek, the darkening mark a stark reminder of the physical and emotional battle he was facing.

Ward sat across the room, his face set in a smug grin. He didn’t look at Rafe. He didn’t need to. He was confident he had already won.

As the hearing began, the tension grew. Both sides presented their arguments—Ward with his usual smugness, his words dripping with false sincerity, and you and Rafe, doing your best to argue that Willa belonged with the people who had been raising her, the people who loved her.

But as the court session continued, it became clear that Ward wasn’t playing fair. His lawyer had found every loophole, every flaw in your case, and used it against you. And with the bruise on Rafe’s face, there was no way around the implications it carried. The scene in the hallway, though quickly dealt with, was impossible to ignore.

Rafe’s history, his past with Ward—everything was being dragged out into the open, and no matter how hard Rafe tried to stay composed, no matter how much you fought back, the weight of their father’s influence was undeniable.

You watched, helpless, as the case swung in Ward’s favor. Every argument Rafe made, every truth he tried to speak, was countered with a lie, with an accusation. And in the end, it wasn’t about what was best for Willa. It was about who had the power, who had the money, who could manipulate the system.

And in that moment, it was clear who was winning.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The judge finally spoke, her voice cold and impartial. “Based on the evidence presented, and in consideration of the child’s well-being, I am ruling in favor of Mr. Ward Cameron for the temporary custody of Willa Routledge.”

The words were like a slap in the face. Your heart stopped, the world spinning in slow motion as you processed the finality of her decision. Rafe’s face fell, his entire body going rigid beside you. His hand, which had been gripping the armrest, was now shaking.

Willa was going to Ward. And there was nothing either of you could do about it.

“What?” Rafe’s voice was barely a whisper, but it held so much anger, so much disbelief, that it made your chest ache.

The judge didn’t respond, and Ward’s smirk only deepened, satisfaction radiating from every inch of him.

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t believe it.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Rafe stood up, the pain in his eyes more evident than ever before. He didn’t speak, didn’t argue. He just left. He stormed out of the courtroom, his movements sharp, angry, broken.

You stayed behind, your own heart sinking, as Ward’s lawyer turned to you with a cold, dismissive smile.

“This isn’t over,” you whispered to yourself, but deep down, you knew it was. The battle for Willa had just taken an unimaginable turn. And you couldn’t help but wonder if you and Rafe would ever recover from the blow.

© 2024 rafeskai | All rights reserved. This fanfiction is a work of fiction inspired by characters from Outer Banks, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.

[dietcokegirly12]

im sorry to bother you but I love your writing sm... could you do a nikolai one or a threesome with fyolai

“Pent-Up”

featuring fyodor doestovsky and nikolai gogol ִ ࣪𖤐

.˚₊‧ ─── ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🎪ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ─── ‧₊˚. ─── ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🎪ɞ˚‧

art credits: pinterest ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

.˚₊‧ ─── ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🎪ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ─── ‧₊˚. ─── ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🎪ɞ˚‧

a/n note: thank you anon for this req omg, i had so much fun with it (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈) also dw i'm gonna release an only nikolai fic laterrr!

keep in mind, reader replaces dazai in the prison arc (っˆڡˆς)

tags: threesome, cowgirl double penetration, mutual masturbation, anal, unprotected sex, teasing, slight degrading, squirting, humping(?), mention of death, mention of oral (fem) at the end, etc etc

word count: 2.5k

🂱🂳🂶 ── ⋅ 🂱🂳🂶 ── ⋅ 🂱🂳🂶 ── ⋅ 🂱🂳🂶 ── ⋅ 🂱

who knew being trapped in the most secure prison to ever exist could leave you so pent-up?

it had been eight months since you had last seen the light of day, and eight months since you had been touched by anyone but yourself.

and it was getting unbearable.

the only solace you had was the man in the cell across from yours, fyodor doestovsky.

as a former member of the port mafia, and a current member of the detective agency with a long list of crimes to your name, in all the commotion, you had been arrested by the hunting dogs and placed in the secure space across from his.

and as the days turned to weeks, and eventually you lost all track of time and what was happening in the outside world, he proved the only one you found comfort in.

through thick and thin, and no matter what, he was always there.

which obviously, he couldn't leave, but just the fact he would entertain you when the days seemed to blend together, and always would comfort you when you had one of your inevitable panic attacks from spending too long in confinement, meant the world.

and of course, being enclosed as you were, always in clear sight of the other, he really was always there.

whether it be when you were eating, or sleeping, or changing, or even.. masturbating.

and truly, when it happened, you hadn't meant for him to see, or even hear you. but you should've known you couldn't hide anything from a man with fyodor's capabilities.

it had been eight miserable months in the prison cell, and you were desperately craving physical touch. you practically ached for intimacy. so... you took matters into your own hands.

with a hand between your plush thighs, panties halfway to the side, and your back arched upward from your front-facing bed, you were doing something incredibly risky but you couldn't bring yourself to care, too lost in the haze of pleasure you were giving yourself.

"mmph.. hah.. f-feels so good," you moaned, picturing it was someone else's fingers toying with your clit languidly. someone else who was right in the cell across yours.

picking up speed in your rubbing, you squeeze your legs together, eliciting a small whimper as you feel yourself getting closer.

and just as you think you're going to be able to push yourself over the edge, and relieve all the tension that's been plaguing you for the past few weeks... nothing.

with a small frustrated groan, you turn over, pulling your fingers out in defeat.

now you were right back where you started, still incredibly horny, only with the addition of now being wet and throbbing, unable to finish on your own.

"need some help over there, myshka?"

you gasp, bolting upright and in the process, let the blanket fall off your body to reveal your bare breasts, and lower stomach.

“shit!”

fyodor simply watches with an amused look as you rush to cover yourself, quickly pulling your covers up to your chin.

“no need to be shy now, darling.”

“fedyaaa..” you whine out, cheeks tinted pink. “y’weren’t s’posed to see that.”

he smirks at that. “oh? then who was?”

you flush, turning away to drape the blankets over yourself, hot all over with embarrassment.

a few seconds later however, the quiet sounds of squelching fill the air, and confused you turn around, unsure what he’s doing.

nothing can prepare you for the sight that awaits you however.

fyodor’s pale hand wrapped tightly around his narrow cock, pumping up and down slowly as his eyes lock on yours, a coy smile curling the corners of his lips upward.

the first thought you have is that he’s long. longer than you’d be able to take, you bet, not that there was much likelihood of that trapped in confinement.

as you ogle at him with wide eyes, mouth agape, he purposefully lets out a drawn-out moan, his head tilting back in pleasure.

before you can stop yourself, you find your hand disappearing back between your thighs, desperately rubbing to get yourself off from the sight of him.

his eyes are closed, but his mouth tilts up, like he can sense what you're doing.

your cunt flutters at the sight of him so exposed like you'd never seen him, and you feel more arousal seeping out of you.

speeding up, you circle a finger around your sopping entrance before plunging in and out, sloppily lewd sounds ensuing.

reaching one hand up, you squeeze your breasts, panting softly as you imagine that it's fyodor's hands doing it rather than yours.

your stomach curls up into tight little knots, and your breathing heaves as you feel yourself finally drawing closer to tipping over the edge.

"say something to me fedya. please?"

he chuckles softly, voice slightly breathier than usual as he whispers out, "fucking filthy girl. jerking off to me while you think i'm asleep, hoping i wouldn't notice, hm?"

and it's then that you can't hold back anymore, soft cries of his name leaving you as you twitch and shudder, drenching your hand and thighs in your slick.

and you can't see it, but you know fyodor finishes close behind as soft, guttural groans leave his throat before he lapses back into silence, broken only by the sound of your combined soft breaths.

you had been facing up at the ceiling for most of it, and as you turn over to your side to face fyodor, you see he's already on his side, looking at you.

"as soon as we get out of here, myshka, i'm going to fuck you senseless."

your heart rate increases as you stare at him, lips slightly parted.

"these eight months of confinement so close, yet so far from you have been torture. i don't care who, or what is around us, i'm going to take you and finally make you mine."

you blush, already feeling needy between your legs again just from his words. "as soon as we get out.." you agree.

.˚₊‧˗ ─── 🗝⟢ ₊˚ ꗃ ─── ˗‧₊˚. ─── 🗝⟢ ₊˚ ꗃ

the next morning, you're awoken by loud shouting.

immediately sitting upright, you look over to fyodor's cell, but he's gone.

"hey!" you swing your feet over the side of the bed and are just about to stand up when suddenly the floor drops from under you, and you fall straight through.

you land with a harsh thump! on the hard floor in a foreign area, a tall man wearing striped pants and a white braid leering down at you. "so, you're the one who captured fyodor's heart while he was captured?" he laughs at his own joke before extending a hand to you, a sly grin on his face, one scarred eye shamelessly checking you out.

fyodor stands beside him, rolling his eyes at his companion, still dressed in his white prison uniform with his hands folded across his chest impatiently.

around them were several mangled bodies piled up, guards you assumed.

it was obvious this had been planned. they had clearly been in communication. and yet... what was it that fyodor had said last night? that it didn't matter who or what was around, he was going to take you as his anyway...?

you're startled out of your thoughts at the feeling of cold hands snaking around your waist, bringing you face-to-face with the man you had longed for in confinement for so long.

and now here he was.

touching you.

after being deprived of him for so long, you could care less whether his friend was there to watch or not, and without hesitance you throw your arms over his shoulders and smash your lips onto his, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

his mouth is cool on yours, and tastes faintly of something heavy and intoxicating, the slightly musky flavor invading your senses until you were practically drowning in it.

with one finger, he tilts your chin upward, and places light kisses down your jaw, tongue darting out occasionally to taste your skin, making you groan in pleasure at the feeling.

and it's then that you feel the warmth of someone pressing into you from behind, and two arms wrapping around your waist.

you gasp softly, trying to move away and unintentionally backing your ass up further into the man behind you, causing him to let out a soft groan.

fyodor chuckles, pulling away to cup your face gently. "it's okay. he won't bite."

swallowing, you stare up at fyodor questioningly.

but before he can answer, the one behind you leans forward, breath tickling your ear. "name's nikolai. but you can call me kolya, little dove."

"i've been telling him about you, my cellmate, for a while now after finding a way to communicate to the outside world, and he agreed to break us out of here on one condition..."

suddenly, nikolai's hands which had been resting at your front begin to slide up your body as fyodor speaks, large palms coming to cup your breasts through your shirt, causing a small involuntary whine to slip out of you, slightly grinding your ass back against him.

"...he gets to fuck you too."

heat pools low in your tummy and you desperately nod in agreement, eager to feel both of their hands on you, giddy with the promise of finally being touched. "please."

nikolai laughs from behind you, hands squeezing tighter around your tits. "seems she doesn't mind having us both, greedy girl."

you whimper softly, leaning back on nikolai as you guide fyodor's hands to between your legs needily, not willing to waste another second.

"someone's eager." fyodor teases, lightly brushing his long fingers along your inner thighs, achingly close to where heat radiates from between them.

however, for all his taunting, he's not faring much better than you, his pants tented from the impressive bulge straining against them.

"someone's eager.." you mock back, one hand reaching out to splay across his painfully hard cock.

with a hiss, hips bucking into your touch, his eyes turn feral, voice dropping dangerously low. "take off your pants. now."

as you quickly obey, nikolai's hands slide down to help you, leisurely pulling them down past your hips until you're in nothing but your panties sandwiched in between them.

quickly, they shift you so you're straddling fyodor's chest, with nikolai behind.

"think you can take us both, dove? i don't want to wait any longer." nikolai purrs out, eye glinting.

as you nod in affirmation, they instantly begin to move as one, fyodor spreading open your thighs as nikolai's hands come to your hips, rutting against your ass slightly.

desperate to feel you for the first time, fyodor's already pulling down his pants to reveal his cock, flushed a pale pink and dripping with pre-cum. it's so long it reaches halfway up his stomach and is even prettier up close.

before you even get the chance to marvel at him, however, he's already lining himself up and pushing in. "myshka, you have no idea how long i've dreamt of having you like this."

all you can do is grip tightly onto his shoulders, soft gasps leaving you at the stretch of him pushing deep inside you.

his cock has a mean curve to it, one that has you dizzy as it reaches all the way to brushing your cervix, without even moving.

there's shuffling behind you as nikolai undresses, and before you can even adjust to having fyodor's cock nestled into your snug walls, his tip is prodding insistently at your hole.

expertly, he reaches one nimble hand to your front, toying with your pulsing clit languidly, and completely covering his hand in your slick before pumping his cock with it a few times as lube.

and where fyodor was impressively long... nikolai was impressively thick.

obscenely so.

his shaft was girthy, and lined with thumping veins and ridges, precum pearling at the slit tantalizingly.

and if you thought you were full before...

the second even an inch of his heavy cock started to push its way inside you, his hands holding your hips steady from behind, you swear you're seeing stars.

"fuck! s'too much! i-it's not all g-gonna fit!" you cry out desperately, squirming in fyodor's grasp as nikolai grunts from behind.

"yes it is.. take it. take it all like a good little slut." fyodor's fingers come to rub circles over your clit to get you to loosen up more for them, accented voice smooth as velvet.

"kolya! y'er so.. so big!" you gasp as he giggles slightly from behind, pushing you forward onto fyodor enough to lift your ass higher.

"hm, is that so? that's not even all of it yet.." and with that, he pulls back before snapping his hips into you, bullying the rest of his thick cock into you in one harsh thrust.

you squeal, falling forward onto fyodor who simply hums, before starting an absolutely brutal pace, meant to completely ravage your poor pussy.

nikolai also begins to thrust into you from behind, barely even giving you time to adjust to his sheer size before you're ping-ponging back and forth between the two, the filthy sounds of skin against skin filling the air.

with the force of their thrusts, your breasts are jiggling, and eagerly fyodor takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, tongue laving tantalizingly around the hardened bud.

you moan, arching up as you quickly tangle your fingers into his dark hair, nikolai groaning behind you.

you know you're not going to last long, not with the way you've been dreaming of this for months, so in an effort to not cum too early, you try to crawl upward and away from their drilling cocks, but nikolai is having none of that, quickly pulling you back to sink even more of him inside you, a small tsk tsk leaving him.

"where you going, little dove?"

you whimper softly in reply, eyes shutting tightly as you try to fight the wave of oncoming pleasure threatening to crash over you. "kolya... fedya.. hmph c-can't.. m'gonna!"

and before you even realize what's happening, your body convulses as with a shudder, you squirt, gushing your release out all over the two, as wave after wave of blinding white pleasure hits you, leaving you a dripping, soaked, mewling mess when you're finally done, panting for breath.

"бля! какая у тебя грязная пизда!" ("Fuck! Such a filthy pussy you have!")

fyodor's words come out in frantic, slurred russian, his only warning before he's spurting load after load of creamy, white ropes into your abused cunt, some of it seeping out to puddle around you.

nikolai follows quickly, a loud throaty groan slipping out from him as more hot ribbons of cum paint your insides white, cock throbbing as he empties himself in you.

and as you all collapse into a heap of sticky, glistening bodies, your faces sweat-sheened and blissed-out, you feel someone nestling between your thighs.

looking down, you see nikolai's head pressed between your legs, eyes closed peacefully.

"kolya..." you warn, voice slightly ragged.

he smiles mischievously. "what? 'm resting!"

as you relent, settling back down, your thighs are pushed open suddenly and a hot mouth instantly latches onto your leaking cunt.

"gotta clean you up..."

and it’s then, you feel another mouth eagerly join.

tagslist (ask to be tagged!<3): @bokukenmakuroo @newnlovesjennie

[julietsf1]

The Potion Project - Charles Leclerc x Reader (Harry Potter inspired)

summary: When a week-long potions project pairs two opposites, something starts brewing between them as well (12k words)

content: sweet Charles, cold reader, set at Hogwarts, who hired Gunther as a teacher? enemies to lovers

A/N: I'm entering my winter groove again and every year around this time I rewatch the HP movies & it got me feeling nostalgic guys!! with Charles being a big fan I just had to write something heehee :) I know he says he's Ravenclaw but I choose to ignore that

Franco fics soon! just doing some last proofreading

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

The dungeons were colder than necessary. Not that it was unusual—I’d spent enough time in the Slytherin common room to acclimate—but there was something distinctly unpleasant about Potions. The damp air clung to the walls, steeped with the scent of overbrewed concoctions, the occasional waft of singed hair, and faint notes of despair.

Professor Steiner loomed at the front of the classroom like a storm cloud, his sharp eyes scanning the room as if daring anyone to breathe too loudly.

“Quiet!” he barked, his voice reverberating off the walls. Several students flinched, though Steiner’s theatrics were nothing new. “This is not a place for your idle chatter. This is my domain. You will respect it—or you will suffer!”

I stifled a sigh, adjusting my quill and parchment. Steiner was infamous for his dramatic speeches, though they were often more effective at frightening first-years than inspiring actual respect.

“Today,” he continued, his sharp accent cutting through the air, “we embark on a very special project. One that will test your patience, skill, and—most importantly—your ability to cooperate.”

I straightened slightly in my seat. It was never a good sign when Steiner emphasized words like patience or cooperate.

“This term,” he went on, “we will be brewing Amortentia.”

A ripple of excitement spread through the room. Amortentia: the most powerful love potion in existence. It was infamous for revealing one’s innermost desires through scent alone—a potion that required equal parts skill and trust to perfect.

“However,” Steiner added, silencing the murmurs with a sharp glare, “this is not merely an exercise in potion-making. This is an exercise in unity. You will be working with a partner from a different house.”

The murmurs returned, louder this time.

“Oh, Merlin,” Lando muttered beside me, leaning back in his chair with a theatrical groan. He was leaning so far back in his chair he might as well have been horizontal. 

My usual partner in crime was a typical Slytherin: confident, smug, and disliked for the dumbest reasons. Although Lando himself had claimed his house allocation to be the result from ‘Slithering in every girl’s pants’. A remark I mocked him for at every chance I got, of course. Not that he was wrong, though. 

“The potion is delicate,” Steiner continued, glaring at Max Verstappen, who was whispering something to Daniel Ricciardo across the aisle. “It requires precision. Focus. And most importantly—trust. Without these, it will fail spectacularly. Ja, you will fail spectacularly.”

“Now,” he said, pacing the front of the room, “I will announce your partners. Listen carefully—there will be no changes.”

The roll call began, each pairing met with a mixture of groans, laughter, and resigned sighs.

“Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri.”

Oscar, a soft-spoken Ravenclaw, looked visibly distressed. Lando grinned, clearly planning some sort of mischief.

“Carlos Sainz and Alex Albon.”

Carlos, the ever strategising Ravenclaw, gave Alex a polite nod. Alex, the friendly Hufflepuff that he is, returned it with a vibrant smile.

“Daniel Ricciardo and Max Verstappen.”

Max’s expression remained stoic, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. Daniel, on the other hand, clapped Max on the back, loudly declaring, “This is going to be fantastic!”

“Fernando Alonso and Lance Stroll.”

The room collectively groaned. Of course. Two Slytherins working together defeated the entire point of inter-house cooperation, but neither Alonso nor Lance seemed remotely apologetic. 

Lance’s dad was also a professor, but he always denied that having anything to do with his seemingly never-ending luck. 

“George Russell and Ollie Bearman.”

Ollie, the youngest of the Hufflepuffs, looked ready to bolt. George, a Ravenclaw with an air of calm superiority, gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“Lewis Hamilton and Franco Colapinto.”

Franco, ever the optimist, grinned at Lewis. The Gryffindor Seeker offered a polite nod in return, his demeanor radiating quiet dignity.

“Pierre Gasly and Valtteri Bottas.”

Valtteri, the epitome of Hufflepuff steadiness, seemed unfazed. Pierre, a flamboyant Gryffindor, raised an eyebrow as if already calculating the odds of success.

“And finally,” Steiner said, his gaze landing on me, “Y/N and Charles Leclerc.”

I froze.

Charles Leclerc—the golden boy of Hufflepuff. Cheerful, clumsy, and infuriatingly optimistic.

He turned around from his seat in the front of the class, flashing me a grin that made my blood boil.

I glared at him, already regretting every decision that had led me to this moment.

...

By the time class ended, the room had descended into controlled chaos. The sound of chairs scraping, glass clinking, and voices clashing filled the air as everyone began gathering their supplies and—predictably—arguing with their partners.

Charles, bless his Hufflepuff heart, had already made a mess. He reached for a jar of billywig stings on the shelf, fumbled it like it was a Quaffle, and sent it tumbling to the floor.

“Sorry!” he exclaimed, bending down to pick it up—only to bump his head on the desk on the way up.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. This was going to be a disaster.

Across the room, Franco was chatting animatedly with Lewis, waving his hands so much I half-expected him to take off like a billywig himself.

“...and then there was this time during the Quidditch match when I nearly got hit by a Bludger, but I dodged it like—” Franco made an exaggerated dive motion, knocking a vial off the table. Lewis caught it effortlessly, his Gryffindor poise still intact.

“Focus,” Lewis said mildly, setting the vial back in place.

“Right, focus,” Franco said, clearly not planning to focus at all.

At the front of the room, Max and Daniel were already plotting, their voices carrying easily over the din.

“We’ll finish first,” Max declared confidently, his Slytherin arrogance practically radiating off him.

“Obviously,” Daniel replied, grinning. “We’re the dream team.”

“Be realistic, hermanos,” Carlos interjected as he passed, his Ravenclaw sensibilities clearly offended by their lack of a plan. “You haven’t even read the instructions.”

“We don’t need instructions,” Max said.

“That’s the motto of people who fail,” Carlos shot back, but Daniel just laughed and gave him a thumbs-up.

Beside me, Lando was enjoying himself far too much. He was leaning back in his chair, looking between me and Charles like he was watching the first act of a play.

“Looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you,” he said with a grin.

“I hate you,” I replied flatly.

“Don’t worry,” he added, clapping me on the shoulder like he was offering genuine comfort. “If you get desperate, just tell him the potion needs ‘a dash of love’ or something. Hufflepuffs eat that stuff up.”

“Don’t you have a Ravenclaw to terrorize?” I shot back, nodding toward Oscar, who was nervously rearranging his supplies like his life depended on it.

“Oh, I’m going to have so much fun with him,” Lando said, his smirk widening. “He already looks like he’s on the verge of a breakdown. All I have to do is mislabel one ingredient and—poof—chaos.”

“Remind me why we’re friends?”

“Because you love me,” Lando said simply, leaning back again.

Meanwhile, Charles, who had managed to gather most of his spilled supplies, was now trying to stack several jars precariously on top of each other. The top one teetered dangerously, and I opened my mouth to stop him—but it was too late.

The jar crashed to the floor, shattering into a million pieces.

“Sorry!” Charles yelped again, looking genuinely distressed.

Lando snorted. “Seven nights,” he said, shaking his head. “Seven nights of this. How are you going to survive?”

“I’m not,” I muttered. “Just make sure the epitaph on my grave says Death by Hufflepuff.”

By the time we reached the Slytherin common room, my frustration had only deepened. The thought of spending seven nights with Charles Leclerc—cheerful, clumsy, maddening Charles—was enough to make my head ache. 

Lando lounged on the sofa nearest the fireplace, looking every bit the self-assured Slytherin that he was. His legs were draped over the armrest, his tie hanging loose around his neck, and his smirk firmly in place.

“Well?” he drawled, twirling his wand between his fingers. “How does it feel to be paired with Charles ‘Sunshine and Smiles’ Leclerc?”

“About as thrilling as you’d expect,” I replied, sinking into the armchair opposite him. “Can’t wait to spend my evenings watching him trip over cauldrons while giving me a lecture on the power of friendship.”

Lando snorted, clearly amused. “At least he’s nice.”

“That’s part of the problem,” I said, slumping further into the chair. “He’s too nice. It’s unsettling. Nobody is that cheerful without some ulterior motive.”

“Maybe his ulterior motive is making you less of a cynic,” Lando said with a grin.

“Maybe my ulterior motive is not hexing him before the week is over,” I shot back.

Lando chuckled, leaning forward slightly. “Come on, he can’t be that bad.”

“He dropped a jar twice before we even started,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Twice, Lando. That’s not just clumsiness—that’s a cry for help.”

“Maybe he was nervous,” Lando offered, though the twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement.

“Why? Because I terrify him?”

“Because you terrify everyone,” he replied, laughing.

I grabbed one of the decorative cushions and threw it at him. Lando ducked, cackling as the cushion sailed harmlessly past him.

“Alright, alright,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “If Charles is as hopeless as you say, what do you think his Amortentia will smell like?”

“Sunshine and sincerity,” I said instantly.

Lando blinked. “Sunshine? Sincerity?”

“Yes,” I replied, leaning forward in mock seriousness. “The man practically radiates it. He probably spends his free time rescuing injured animals and helping old witches cross the street. Honestly, he probably smells like freshly baked bread, lavender fields, and the satisfaction of knowing he’s a better person than the rest of us.”

Lando howled with laughter, clutching his stomach. “Lavender fields? Satisfaction? You’re killing me.”

“Am I wrong?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” Lando admitted, still chuckling. “But now I’m picturing him cradling a three-legged puppy while giving an inspirational speech.”

“Exactly,” I said, smirking. “The boy is too sweet and soft. It’s suspicious.”

“And here I thought you were being unfair,” Lando teased, shaking his head.

“Oh, I’m completely unfair,” I said lightly. “But you can’t tell me you don’t see it. He’s practically glowing.”

“Fair enough,” Lando said, still grinning. “What about Franco? What’s his going to smell like?”

“An older woman,” I replied without hesitation.

Lando froze for a second before dissolving into laughter. “Merlin’s beard, you’re right. Max and Franco, both of them. Older women everywhere, beware.”

I leaned back, considering. “Although, your potion might not be much better. Portuguese pastries, for sure.”

“What?” Lando exclaimed, sitting up slightly. “Pastel de nata?”

“Mm-hmm,” I said, nodding. “Which, let’s be honest, doesn’t narrow down your soulmate pool at all.”

“You’re insufferable,” he muttered, covering his face with a cushion.

“Thank you,” I said sweetly.

Once Lando had recovered from his pastry-induced existential crisis, his expression turned mischievous again. “Alright, back to Charles. Do you think he’s already figured out what yours will smell like?”

I frowned. “Why would he care?”

“Oh, come on,” Lando said, rolling his eyes. “It’s practically inevitable. You, with your sharp tongue and overwhelming perfection. Him, with his golden retriever energy and clumsy charm. By the end of the week, he’s going to be hopelessly in love with you.”

“If you don’t shut up,” I cut in, “I will hex you into next week.”

Lando grinned. “You won’t do it.”

“Try me,” I said, narrowing my eyes.

“You’re just mad because I’m right,” he said smugly, leaning back again.

“I’m mad because you’re insufferable,” I shot back.

“Sure, sure,” he said, waving me off. “But when you’re proven wrong, I’ll be here. Ready to say ‘I told you so.’”

I reached for another cushion, but Lando had already leapt to his feet, laughing as he dodged out of range. “Goodnight, Y/N. Enjoy your sunshine and sincerity!”

“Goodnight, Lando,” I called after him, shaking my head.

The common room fell quiet after he left, save for the crackling fire and the occasional drip of water from the enchanted windows. I sank deeper into the armchair, letting my head fall back against the cushion.

Seven nights with Charles Leclerc. Seven nights of clumsiness, cheerful optimism, and broom polish.

This was going to be a long week.

…

The Potions classroom at night felt different. Quieter, somehow, but not in a peaceful way. The torches burned low, casting flickering shadows across the stone walls, and the faint scent of old ingredients hung in the air. I’d arrived early—not out of enthusiasm, but because I refused to let Charles Leclerc think I was the kind of person who was ever late.

The workspace I claimed was one of the better ones: a sturdy wooden table near the center of the room, far enough from the cauldron fumes of other students but close enough to Steiner’s desk to appear studious.

I began unpacking my supplies with the precision of someone who needed to keep their hands busy. Dried billywig stings, crushed moonstone, powdered asphodel—each vial was placed carefully in its designated spot.

“Y/N?”

I nearly dropped my stirring rod at the sound of his voice. Turning, I saw Charles standing in the doorway, framed by the dim light. He was holding a cauldron that seemed far too large for one person to manage, and the cheerful grin on his face was the exact opposite of how I felt about this entire situation.

“You’re early,” he said brightly, walking toward me with the kind of enthusiasm that could only come from a Hufflepuff.

“So are you,” I replied, already turning back to my supplies.

“Thought I’d get a head start,” he said, setting the cauldron down with a loud thud that made the glass jars on the table rattle.

I closed my eyes, willing myself to stay calm. “Great idea,” I muttered, rearranging the jars he’d displaced.

If Charles noticed my tone, he didn’t comment. Instead, he began unpacking his own supplies, humming softly to himself as he worked.

“What’s that?” I asked, unable to help myself.

“What’s what?”

“The humming,” I said, glancing at him.

“Oh,” he said, looking sheepish. “It’s a song my brother used to sing when he studied. Helps me focus.”

“Right,” I said flatly, returning to my vials.

There was a beat of silence, and then: “So, Y/N, what made you want to study Potions?”

I sighed, setting down my pestle. “Charles, do you think we can skip the small talk and just get to work?”

His expression faltered for a moment before he nodded. “Of course,” he said, his smile dimming slightly.

Good, I thought. This wasn’t a social event.

We’d been working for nearly twenty minutes when the first argument broke out.

“You’re stirring too fast,” I said, frowning at the potion as it bubbled furiously.

“I’m following the instructions,” Charles replied, his tone calm but tinged with exasperation.

“Clearly not,” I said, reaching for the spoon in his hand. “Here, let me—”

“Let me,” he interrupted, holding the spoon just out of my reach.

I glared at him. “Charles, the potion is about to curdle.”

“No, it’s not,” he argued, glancing at the cauldron. “It’s perfectly fine. You’re overreacting.”

“Overreacting?” I repeated, incredulous. “Do you have any idea what happens when Amortentia curdles? Because I can assure you it’s not ‘perfectly fine.’”

Charles sighed, his shoulders sagging as he set the spoon down. “Why do you always assume I don’t know what I’m doing?”

“Because you just spent the last five minutes stirring like you’re whisking pancake batter,” I snapped, gesturing at the cauldron.

“That’s rich coming from someone who spent half the session rearranging the ingredients instead of actually brewing the potion,” he shot back, his tone sharper than I’d expected.

I froze, narrowing my eyes at him. “I was organizing.”

“You were stalling,” he corrected, crossing his arms.

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t trust me,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less certain. “You’d rather do everything yourself than let me try.”

“That’s not true,” I said, though the words sounded hollow even to me.

“Isn’t it?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “You’ve been micromanaging me since the moment we started. At least give me a chance before you decide I’m hopeless.”

I stared at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. Before I could respond, the potion hissed loudly, a plume of steam rising from the surface.

“What do we do now?” Charles asked, breaking the silence.

I sighed, grabbing the stirring rod. “We stabilize it. Slowly. Carefully. Without stirring like a maniac.”

The rest of the session passed in tense silence. Charles, to his credit, followed my instructions without complaint, though his earlier comment still grated on me.

By the time the potion had settled into a murky but manageable state, my patience was wearing thin.

“Well,” Charles said, stepping back from the cauldron, “it’s not perfect, but it’s not exploding either.”

“High praise,” I muttered, wiping my hands on a cloth.

He smiled faintly, his earlier cheerfulness tempered by caution. “Thanks for... guiding me,” he said, his voice careful.

I glanced at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. For a moment, I felt a flicker of guilt for being so curt with him earlier.

“Just... read the instructions more carefully next time,” I said, my voice softer than before.

“Got it,” he said, his grin returning in full force.

I rolled my eyes, but there was no real malice behind it.

“See you tomorrow, Y/N,” he said, gathering his supplies.

“Yeah,” I replied, watching as he left the room.

As the door closed behind him, I let out a long sigh. One night down, six to go.

..

The Potions classroom felt less eerie the second night, though it still carried the same oppressive silence that made the sound of footsteps echo louder than necessary. I arrived slightly later this time—not late enough to seem unprofessional, but enough to make it clear I wasn’t in a rush to be here.

Charles was already at the table when I walked in, his cauldron set up and his supplies meticulously organized. He looked up as I approached, offering a polite smile that I didn’t return.

“Evening,” he said, his voice cheerful as always.

“Let’s just get this over with,” I replied, pulling out my notes and setting them down with a bit more force than necessary.

Charles blinked at me but said nothing, turning his attention back to his cauldron. For a few blessed moments, the only sounds were the clinking of vials and the rustle of parchment as we prepared our workspace.

“What do you like most about Potions?” Charles asked after a beat, his tone light, as though he were trying to bridge a gap I hadn’t invited him to cross.

I didn’t look up from measuring the powdered asphodel. “I’m good at it.”

“That’s not what I asked,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“It’s what you’re getting,” I replied curtly.

He chuckled softly, which only annoyed me further. “Alright, fair enough. I like Potions, too.”

“Congratulations,” I muttered, rolling my eyes.

“I think it’s interesting,” he continued, completely unfazed by my lack of enthusiasm. “How you can take things that seem ordinary on their own—like herbs or minerals—and combine them to make something extraordinary. It’s like magic within magic, you know?”

I didn’t bother responding.

“I’ve always been curious about how things work,” he went on, oblivious to my silence. “That’s part of why I like Quidditch, too. There’s so much strategy involved—reading the game, anticipating moves. It’s not just about flying fast.”

I hummed vaguely, hoping he’d take the hint and stop talking. He didn’t.

“I started playing when I was seven,” he said, his voice taking on a more personal tone. “My dad taught me. He wasn’t a professional or anything, but he loved the game. Growing up by the sea especially, my brothers and I lost so many snitches and Quaffles in the waves. But he would never be upset about it.”

I accidentally spilled a pinch of asphodel, gritting my teeth as I cleaned it up.

“Y/N?”

“What?” I snapped, looking up at him for the first time.

Charles raised an eyebrow. “You’re not even listening.”

“I’m listening,” I said defensively.

“No, you’re pretending to listen,” he countered. “There’s a difference.”

I opened my mouth to argue but stopped short when I saw the look on his face. He wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Look,” I said finally, sighing. “I’m not here to make friends, okay? I’m here to get this potion done.”

Charles’s expression hardened. “Good,” he said sharply. “Because I’m not here to make friends either.”

The words caught me off guard, though I wasn’t entirely sure why.

“Great,” I said, recovering quickly. “Then let’s focus on the potion and skip the personal anecdotes.”

“Fine by me,” he said, his tone colder than I’d ever heard it.

For a while, the only sound between us was the bubbling of the cauldron. The tension in the air was almost palpable, thick and suffocating.

We worked in silence for most of the session, our movements stiff and deliberate. Despite the awkwardness, there was something oddly productive about the lack of conversation. Without distractions, we managed to complete the first phase of the potion without any major disasters.

As I stirred the mixture carefully, I caught a glimpse of Charles out of the corner of my eye. He was focused, his brows furrowed in concentration as he measured out the powdered moonstone.

“You’re doing it wrong,” I said automatically, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

Charles looked up, his expression blank. “Am I?”

“Yes,” I said, stepping closer. “You’re supposed to add it gradually, not all at once.”

“Right,” he said, adjusting his technique without argument.

The ease with which he accepted my criticism surprised me. I’d expected more resistance, another round of bickering. Instead, he just nodded and kept working, his movements precise and deliberate.

“Thanks,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now.

“For what?” I asked, frowning.

“For correcting me,” he said simply. “I’d rather get it right than mess it up.”

I didn’t respond, turning my attention back to the cauldron. There was something disarming about the way he said it, his sincerity catching me off guard.

We finished the session without any further mishaps, the potion a shimmering shade of lilac by the end of it. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a step in the right direction.

As we cleaned up, the tension between us felt slightly less suffocating, though it wasn’t exactly gone.

“See you tomorrow,” Charles said as he packed up his supplies, his tone polite but distant.

“Yeah,” I replied, watching as he walked toward the door.

For a moment, I considered saying something—an apology, maybe, or a thank you. But the words caught in my throat, and by the time I found the courage to speak, the door had already closed behind him.

I sighed, turning back to simmering cauldron. Maybe tomorrow would be better.

..

By the time I arrived at the Potions classroom for the third night, I had resigned myself to another evening of tense silence and forced cooperation. The heavy wooden door creaked slightly as I pushed it open, the familiar smell of ingredients and old stone greeting me as I stepped inside.

Charles was already there, of course. Punctuality seemed to be his specialty, along with a perpetual optimism that bordered on exhausting. But tonight, something was different.

“Evening,” he said, looking up from the table with a smile. In front of him sat not just the usual arrangement of potion supplies but two steaming cups of tea.

I hesitated in the doorway, frowning. “What’s that?”

“Tea,” he said simply, gesturing to the cups. “I thought it might make things... less awful.”

“Less awful,” I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, I figured if we’re going to be stuck working together all week, we might as well try to make it tolerable,” he explained, pushing one of the cups toward me.

I stared at him for a moment, torn between suspicion and reluctant appreciation. Finally, I sighed and took the cup, the warmth spreading through my hands as I wrapped my fingers around it.

“Thanks,” I muttered, avoiding his gaze.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, his voice soft but sincere.

I took a cautious sip, the rich, slightly floral flavor surprising me. It was good—annoyingly good.

“Didn’t peg you as a tea enthusiast,” I said, setting the cup down.

Charles shrugged, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “I’m full of surprises.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and turned my attention to the cauldron instead.

The session started smoother than the previous two, the tea serving as an unspoken truce between us. Charles seemed more at ease, his movements less tentative as he worked beside me.

“You’re adding too much powdered asphodel,” I said, glancing at his measuring spoon.

Charles paused, holding the spoon over the cauldron. “How much should I add, then?”

“Three pinches, not four,” I replied, my tone less sharp than usual.

He adjusted the amount without complaint, carefully sprinkling the powder into the potion.

“Better?” he asked, looking at me for confirmation.

“Better,” I admitted grudgingly.

Charles smiled, and for a fleeting moment, I noticed how his green eyes caught the torchlight, the flecks of gold in them almost shimmering. I quickly looked away, focusing on the potion.

We worked in relative harmony for the next hour, the bubbling of the cauldron filling the silence between us. It was almost... pleasant. Not that I’d admit it out loud.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Charles said after a while, breaking the silence.

“Is that a complaint?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not at all,” he replied, his grin returning. “Just an observation. You’re usually telling me everything I’m doing wrong by now.”

“I’m trying something new,” I said dryly. “It’s called patience.”

“Impressive,” he said, laughing softly.

“Don’t get used to it,” I warned, though my tone lacked its usual bite.

Charles chuckled again, the sound warm and unassuming. 

As the session continued, I found myself watching him more closely—not in judgment, but in curiosity. There was a quiet determination to the way he worked, his focus unwavering as he carefully measured ingredients and stirred the potion with practiced precision.

His hair, dark and slightly tousled, fell into his eyes as he leaned over the cauldron, and he brushed it back absentmindedly with his fingers. There was something almost... endearing about the way he frowned in concentration, his brow furrowed just enough to give him a boyish charm.

“Y/N?”

I blinked, realizing he’d caught me staring. “What?”

“You’re doing it again,” he said, smirking.

“Doing what?”

“Hovering,” he said, his tone teasing.

“I’m supervising,” I corrected, crossing my arms.

“Right,” he said, his smirk widening. “Supervising.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

By the time we finished, the potion was a shimmering, pearly white—a marked improvement from the murky disaster of the first night.

“Not bad,” Charles said, stepping back to admire our work.

“Could be better,” I replied, though there was no real venom in my words.

“We’ll get there,” he said confidently, wiping his hands on a cloth.

His optimism was still maddening, but I had to admit it was slightly less grating than before.

As we packed up, the tension between us felt noticeably lighter.

“See you tomorrow,” Charles said, offering me another one of his infuriatingly sincere smiles.

“Yeah,” I replied, picking up my bag.

I paused in the doorway, glancing back at him one last time. There was something about the way he stood there—his posture relaxed but attentive, his green eyes bright with that unrelenting earnestness—that made me hesitate.

“Thanks for the tea,” I said quietly.

Charles’s smile widened, and for a moment, I almost felt like smiling back. Almost.

“Anytime,” he said.

I turned and walked out before he could say anything else, the warmth of the tea lingering in my hands—and, annoyingly, in my thoughts.

…

Breakfast in the Great Hall was one of my favorite parts of the day. It wasn’t just the food—though the enchanted platters that replenished themselves with warm toast, flaky pastries, and perfectly brewed coffee certainly didn’t hurt. It was the calm before the chaos, a brief window where the day hadn’t yet demanded anything of you.

This morning, however, I found myself unusually distracted.

“Earth to Y/N.”

I blinked, realizing Lando was waving a piece of bacon in front of my face.

“What?” I snapped, swatting his hand away.

“You’ve been staring into space for the last five minutes,” he said, smirking. “What’s got you so lost in thought? Don’t tell me it’s Leclerc.”

“Of course not,” I said quickly, a little too quickly.

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Sure, sure. So you weren’t just thinking about how you two are best friends now?”

“We are not best friends,” I said firmly, stabbing a piece of sausage with my fork for emphasis.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve stopped complaining about him, for one thing.”

“That’s because we’ve figured out how to work together,” I said, though the words sounded hollow even to me.

“Oh, you’ve ‘figured out’ how to work together,” Lando said, grinning. “That’s code for you’re warming up to him.”

“I am not warming up to him,” I insisted, though my cheeks felt uncomfortably warm.

“Denial is a powerful thing,” Lando said, taking a sip of his coffee with the kind of exaggerated smugness that made me want to throw something at him.

Further down the table, a lively conversation among our friends caught my attention.

“So, Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor today,” Carlos said, his Ravenclaw demeanor calm but his tone betraying a flicker of curiosity.

“Easy win for Gryffindor,” Franco chimed in, his Hufflepuff scarf loosely draped over his neck. “Leclerc might be good, but the rest of the team’s a mess.”

“Oh, come on,” Alex said, his loyalty as a Hufflepuff evident. “We’re not that bad.”

Max, seated beside Daniel, leaned back with a wicked grin. “I can’t wait to see Gryffindor lose to the worst sports team in the castle.”

Daniel snorted, nudging Max with his elbow. “You’re just bitter because we won last week.”

“I’m not bitter,” Max said, feigning innocence. “I’m just realistic. Hufflepuff’s overdue for a win, and what better team to beat than Gryffindor?”

George, always the voice of reason, raised an eyebrow. “You’re placing your bets on Hufflepuff? You have considered their statistics?”

“Not a bet,” Max said smugly. “It’s more of a prediction. Just wait—you’ll see.”

Daniel shook his head, laughing. “You’re lucky I don’t take offense, Maximilian.”

“Lucky,” Max said, grinning.

The banter continued, but I tuned out as I turned back to Lando, who was watching me with an annoyingly knowing expression.

“What now?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said, smirking. “Just wondering if you’re going to make it through the match without swooning.”

I glared at him. “I am not going to swoon.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, grinning.

By the time we reached the Quidditch pitch, the stands were already buzzing with excitement. The Gryffindor and Hufflepuff banners waved proudly in the breeze, their house colors painting the crowd in shades of red and gold, yellow and black.

Lando led the way to a spot near the middle of the stands, his Slytherin scarf draped loosely around his neck.

“You’re unusually enthusiastic about this,” I said as we sat down.

“I’m here for the drama,” he said, grinning. “And to watch you squirm every time Leclerc does something impressive.”

“I’m not going to squirm,” I said, though my voice lacked conviction.

“Sure, sure,” he said, smirking.

The match began with a sharp whistle from Madam Hooch, the players taking to the air in a blur of motion. The Gryffindor team, as expected, played aggressively, their Chasers weaving through the Hufflepuff defense with practiced ease.

But Hufflepuff held their ground, their Keeper deflecting shot after shot with remarkable precision.

Then there was Charles.

As Seeker, his role was less flashy but no less crucial. He moved with a quiet confidence, his sharp green eyes scanning the pitch as he hovered above the chaos. His dark hair was windswept from the speed, and there was a focus in his expression that I hadn’t noticed before—not the cheerful optimism I’d grown accustomed to, but something sharper, more intense.

“He’s good,” Lando said, nudging me with his elbow.

I ignored him, though I couldn’t deny the truth of his statement.

The game dragged on, neither team managing to pull too far ahead. The score was tight, and the tension in the air was palpable as the Snitch finally appeared, darting across the pitch in a blur of gold.

Charles spotted it immediately.

He shot forward like a bolt of lightning, his broom slicing through the air with precision. The Gryffindor Seeker, hot on his heels, was faster, but Charles was smarter, his movements calculated as he anticipated the Snitch’s erratic flight path.

I found myself leaning forward in my seat, my heart pounding as the two Seekers closed in.

Then, in a move so daring it made the crowd gasp, Charles dove.

It was reckless, almost suicidal, the kind of dive that could end in disaster if his timing was even a fraction off. But he didn’t hesitate.

His fingers closed around the Snitch just inches from the ground, and the stadium erupted into cheers as the whistle blew, signaling the end of the match.

Lando turned to me, his smirk practically splitting his face. “And there it is.”

“There what is?” I asked, tearing my gaze away from the pitch.

“You,” he said, pointing at me. “Blushing.”

“I am not blushing,” I said, though my cheeks betrayed me.

“Sure, sure,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “Just admit it—you’re impressed.”

I crossed my arms, trying to ignore the way my heart was still racing. “He’s fine, I guess.”

“Fine,” Lando repeated, laughing. “You were practically holding your breath during that dive.”

“Was not,” I muttered, though the words sounded unconvincing even to me.

“Whatever you say,” Lando said, grinning.

As the crowd began to disperse, I caught one last glimpse of Charles on the pitch, his teammates surrounding him in celebration. There was a faint smile on his face, not the broad, toothy grin I’d expected, but something quieter, more satisfied.

I shook my head, tearing my gaze away.

It was just Quidditch. Nothing more.

…

I arrived at the Potions classroom that evening with a small package tucked under my arm. It wasn’t like me to make peace offerings, especially not for something as trivial as a strained group project, but the nagging sense of guilt from Charles bringing tea the previous night had finally gotten to me.

If I was being honest, it wasn’t just guilt. It was the faint, begrudging realization that maybe Charles deserved a little credit for his effort. He wasn’t perfect—far from it—but he was trying.

The classroom was quiet when I walked in, the soft flicker of torchlight illuminating Charles already at our table. His head was bent over his cauldron, his dark hair slightly tousled, and the flicker of concentration on his face gave him an uncharacteristic air of seriousness.

“Evening,” I said, setting my bag down with a thud.

Charles looked up, his green eyes brightening when he saw me. “Evening,” he replied, his usual cheerfulness returning instantly. His gaze flickered to the package in my hand. “What’s that?”

“Cookies,” I said, sliding the package across the table toward him. “Consider it a peace offering.”

His eyebrows lifted in surprise, and a grin spread across his face. “A peace offering? From you? Should I be worried?”

“Only if you don’t appreciate them,” I said, smirking.

He chuckled, opening the package and examining the contents. “These look incredible. Did you make them?”

“Obviously,” I replied. “Do you think I’d trust the house-elves to get the seasoning right?”

Charles laughed, a warm, genuine sound that filled the quiet space. “Well, thank you. Really.”

“Don’t mention it,” I said, trying not to let his sincerity catch me off guard. “Literally. Don’t mention it. To anyone.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

As the potion bubbled steadily, we found ourselves settling into an unexpectedly smooth rhythm, each of us quietly handling our assigned tasks.

“You know,” Charles said after a while, glancing at the shimmering surface of the potion, “this is almost... peaceful.”

“Peaceful?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow. “I think you mean tolerable.”

He laughed softly, adding a careful pinch of powdered moonstone to the cauldron. “Fine, tolerable. But admit it—you’re not having the worst time.”

“That’s a low bar,” I shot back, though my tone was more teasing than sharp.

Charles grinned, glancing at me as he stirred. “You’ve got a pretty high standard for everything, don’t you?”

“Is that a problem?” I asked, tilting my head.

“Not at all,” he said quickly. “It’s just... intense.”

“Intense?” I repeated, mock-offended. “Says the guy who just called potion-making ‘peaceful.’”

He laughed again, his shoulders shaking slightly. “Okay, fair point. But don’t you ever just... let things go?”

I stared at him. “Let things go? During a project? Absolutely not. That’s how you end up with an exploding cauldron.”

“Exploding cauldrons aside,” he said, still smiling, “I’m serious. Do you always approach life like it’s a competition?”

“Only when I feel like winning,” I said with a smirk.

Charles chuckled, shaking his head. “And you always feel like winning, I suppose?”

“See, you get it,” I said, gesturing to the potion.

He snickered, his green eyes bright with amusement. “You know, for someone so competitive, you’re surprisingly good company.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Surprisingly?”

“Don’t take it the wrong way,” he said quickly. “It’s just, you’re a bit... sharp at first.”

“Sharp,” I repeated, my tone flat.

“Sharp in a good way,” he added hastily. “Like a really good knife. Useful but intimidating.”

I couldn’t help it—I laughed. “That’s the strangest compliment I’ve ever received.”

“Well, it’s true,” he said, grinning. “You’re efficient, you know what you’re doing, and you don’t tolerate nonsense. It’s... refreshing.”

“Refreshing,” I said, my voice tinged with disbelief. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Not when I’m trying to make someone smile,” he said, his tone surprisingly genuine.

I glanced at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice.

The conversation continued in that vein, shifting from light teasing to random topics.

By the end of the session, the potion was a shimmering, pearly white, its consistency smooth and flawless.

“Well,” Charles said, stepping back to admire the cauldron, “we didn’t blow anything up. I’d call that a win.”

“Low standards,” I said, though there was no real bite to my words.

He smiled at me, his green eyes softening. “I think we make a pretty good team.”

I didn’t respond immediately, my gaze flickering to the potion. “I guess we’re... okay,” I said finally, smirking.

“High praise,” he said, laughing.

…

I pushed open the heavy door to the Potions classroom, my steps measured but deliberate. My bag hung loosely from my shoulder, the weight of the day pulling at me in ways I hadn’t anticipated. I wasn’t stomping or slamming things, but the tension in my posture probably gave me away.

Charles was already at the table, as usual, his supplies perfectly laid out. He glanced up as I approached, his face brightening briefly before his brows knitted together.

“Evening,” he said carefully. “Everything alright?”

“Fine,” I replied, setting my bag down a little too heavily.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t push the matter.

The silence stretched between us as we began to unpack our supplies. I tried to focus on the potion, the familiar rhythm of measuring and stirring usually soothing. But tonight, it wasn’t enough to drown out Lance’s voice echoing in my head.

“Slytherin girls are all the same—good at charming their way to the top but not much else.”

The comment had been thrown so casually, like it wasn’t meant to sting. But it had, even though I hated admitting it.

I grabbed a vial of powdered moonstone, twisting the lid off with more force than necessary.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” Charles asked, his voice cutting through the quiet.

“Nothing,” I said quickly, though the sharpness in my tone betrayed me.

“Y/N,” he said gently, setting down his stirring rod. “Talk to me.”

I hesitated, my fingers tightening around the edge of the table. “It’s nothing important.”

“If it’s bothering you, it’s important,” he said, his tone softer now.

I glanced at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice.

Finally, I sighed. “Lance said something stupid. That’s all.”

Charles frowned, his easygoing demeanor shifting slightly. “What did he say?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said, focusing on the potion.

“Y/N,” he said again, his tone firmer now.

I glanced at him, surprised by the intensity in his green eyes. He wasn’t going to let this go.

“He made some stupid comment about Slytherin girls,” I admitted finally, setting down the vial. “Said we only get ahead because we know how to ‘charm’ people.”

Charles’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening slightly. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” I asked, forcing a laugh that sounded more bitter than amused. “It’s not like I haven’t heard it before.”

“Then they’re all idiots,” Charles said firmly, his voice low but steady.

I blinked, caught off guard by the heat in his words.

“You work harder than anyone I know,” he continued, his green eyes locking onto mine. “If Lance or anyone else can’t see that, that’s their problem—not yours.”

For a moment, I didn’t know what to say.

“Thanks,” I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Charles nodded, his expression softening slightly. “You shouldn’t let people like him get to you. They’re not worth it.”

I managed a small smile, though the knot in my chest hadn’t entirely unraveled.

“Come on,” he said, straightening. “Let’s get out of here.”

I frowned. “What?”

“The potion’s fine,” he said, gesturing to the cauldron. “You need a break. Let’s go for a walk.”

I hesitated, glancing between him and the table. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he interrupted, his green eyes meeting mine.

Something about the quiet conviction in his voice made it impossible to argue.

The Astronomy Tower was quiet and still, the cool night air brushing against my skin as we stepped onto the open platform. The stars stretched endlessly above us, their light reflecting off the grounds below in a soft, silvery glow.

Charles leaned against the stone railing, his gaze fixed on the sky. “Better?”

“Maybe,” I admitted, my voice softer now.

He turned to look at me, his expression warm but serious. “Lance doesn’t define you, Y/N. You know that, right?”

I blinked, startled by the conviction in his voice.

“You’re one of the smartest, most capable people I’ve met,” he continued, his green eyes steady. “If he can’t see that, that’s his loss.”

There was a sincerity in his words that caught me off guard, making my chest feel uncomfortably tight.

“Thanks,” I said quietly, leaning against the railing beside him.

Charles smiled, the kind of smile that was small but genuine, like he didn’t need to say anything else.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward but peaceful, the kind that made you feel like words weren’t necessary.

As I glanced at Charles, I found myself noticing things I hadn’t before. The way his dark hair caught the moonlight, the soft curls brushing against his forehead. The faint dimple in his cheek when he smiled, even slightly. His green eyes, so vibrant in the dim light, seemed to reflect the stars above us.

He looked... different up here. Softer, somehow, but steady in a way that made me feel grounded.

I quickly looked away, focusing on the stars instead.

“You like stargazing?” he asked after a while, his voice low.

“Sometimes,” I admitted, my gaze still on the sky.

“It’s calming, isn’t it?” he said, leaning back slightly. “Makes everything else seem... smaller.”

I nodded, surprised by how much I agreed.

“I used to come up here all the time,” he said, his tone tinged with nostalgia. “Whenever I felt overwhelmed, this was my escape.”

“Overwhelmed?” I asked, glancing at him.

He smiled faintly, his gaze still on the stars. “Everyone expects you to be a certain way, you know? Happy, perfect, always doing the right thing. Sometimes it’s... a lot.”

I watched him quietly, his words hitting closer to home than I’d expected.

“But then I’d come up here, bring my favorite pizza,” he continued, his voice softer now. “And none of it mattered. It was just me and the stars.”

For a moment, I didn’t know what to say.

“That’s... nice,” I said finally, my voice quieter than before.

Charles turned to look at me, his expression thoughtful. “It is.”

The way he looked at me then, steady and unwavering, made something twist in my chest. It wasn’t the usual irritation I felt around him—this was something quieter, harder to define.

We stayed on the Astronomy Tower longer than I’d expected, our conversation drifting to lighter topics as the tension from earlier melted away.

When we finally made our way back to the dungeons, I felt... a little happy?

“Thanks for the walk,” I said as we reached the door to the common areas.

Charles smiled, his green eyes warm. “Anytime.”

As I watched him walk away, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of something unfamiliar in my stomach, as a sheepish smile appeared on my face.

…

When I walked into the Potions classroom, Charles was already there, hunched over the cauldron with his usual air of concentration. The dim torchlight flickered across his face, casting shadows along the sharp line of his jaw. He looked up as I entered, his green eyes catching the light in a way that was unfairly distracting.

“Right on time,” he said, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Were you waiting outside, counting down the minutes to see me?”

I dropped my bag onto the table with a soft thud, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t flatter yourself, Leclerc. I was contemplating skipping entirely.”

Charles chuckled, standing upright and brushing his hands together. “And miss our bonding time? That would’ve been tragic.”

“Bonding time?” I repeated, crossing my arms. “Is that what you call this?”

“Absolutely,” he said, grinning.

“Sure it is,” I said, smirking as I pulled out my notes. “Don’t mess up my grade, Leclerc.”

“I can do both,” he shot back, leaning casually against the table. “You’re just jealous because I make this look easy.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Easy? You’re the only person I’ve seen spill powdered moonstone twice in one session.”

“I prefer to call that... experimental flair,” he said giving me a wink.

“Keep telling yourself that,” I said, rolling my eyes, grinning wide.

We settled into a rhythm as we worked, the potion bubbling steadily between us. Charles had a way of working that was simultaneously precise and frustrating, his movements deliberate but occasionally overthought.

“You know,” I said, watching him carefully measure out the Essence of Belladonna, “you don’t have to treat every ingredient like it’s a baby bird. You can be a little faster.”

“Fast doesn’t always mean better,” he replied, glancing at me with a pointed look. “Sometimes patience pays off.”

“Or sometimes you’re just stalling because you don’t know what you’re doing,” I countered, smirking.

He laughed, shaking his head. “And here I thought you were finally being nicer to me.”

“Nice?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Who said anything about that?”

“Come on,” he said, grinning. “You’re not nearly as mean to me as you used to be. Admit it—you’re starting to like me.”

I pretended to think for a moment. “I wouldn’t go that far. Tolerate, maybe.”

Charles laughed, the sound low and warm. “Admit it—I’m growing on you.”

“Like a particularly stubborn weed,” I said, smirking.

“Hey, weeds are resilient,” he said, grinning. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

By the time we finished, the potion shimmered with a pearly brilliance, the final stage completed without a single mishap.

“Not bad,” I said, leaning back slightly to admire our work.

“You mean brilliant,” Charles corrected, his tone light.

“Fine,” I said, smirking. “Brilliant. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” he said, his green eyes crinkling slightly as he smiled.

We packed up in companionable silence, the tension that had once defined our sessions now replaced by something easier, almost... comfortable.

As I reached for my bag, I caught Charles watching me, his expression unreadable.

“What?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, his grin returning. “Just wondering if you’ve always been this stubborn or if it’s just me.”

“Definitely just you,” I said, smirking as I slung my bag over my shoulder.

“Good to know,” he replied, his voice soft but teasing.

I lingered for a moment, something unspoken hanging in the air between us.

“Goodnight, Leclerc,” I said finally, breaking the silence.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he replied, his voice steady.

…

Charles and I were among the first to arrive, our cauldron resting on the designated table in front of Professor Steiner’s desk.

“Everything set?” Charles asked, glancing at me.

“Of course,” I replied, crossing my arms. “We’re the first ones here, aren’t we?”

“Just making sure,” he said, his grin soft and easy. “Wouldn’t want you to miss the chance to impress Steiner with your flawless execution.”

“Our flawless execution,” I corrected, smirking. “Try to keep up, Leclerc.”

“Glad to see you’re giving me credit now,” he replied, laughing softly.

As the classroom began to fill, familiar voices drifted through the air, weaving a tapestry of conversations.

“Alex, you’re going to spill that—”

“Relax, Carlos,” Alex replied, balancing their cauldron precariously as they set it down. “It’s fine. Look—steady as a broomstick.”

“That’s not exactly reassuring,” Carlos muttered, shaking his head.

“You think Steiner’s going to notice?” Max asked, eyeing their potion skeptically.

“Notice what?” Daniel replied innocently.

“The fact that it looks like swamp water,” Max said, smirking.

“Swamp chic,” Daniel said with a grin. “It’s ahead of its time.”

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Lando and Oscar setting up their station, Lando leaning lazily against the table while Oscar meticulously checked their notes.

“You’re doing great, mate,” Lando said, smirking. “Really carrying the team here.”

“You could at least pretend to help,” Oscar replied, shooting him a look.

“I’m supporting from the sidelines,” Lando said, grinning.

I rolled my eyes at their antics, turning my attention back to our potion.

“Alright,” Steiner began, his gravelly voice carrying over the room. “Let’s see how many of you managed to brew something that won’t explode.”

One by one, the pairs presented their potions, each receiving varying degrees of praise and critique.

Finally, it was our turn. Charles and I carefully carried our cauldron to the front, the pearly potion shimmering under the torchlight.

“Ah,” Steiner said, leaning closer to inspect it. “Now this... this is promising.”

Charles glanced at me, a small, triumphant smile tugging at his lips.

“Beautiful consistency,” Steiner continued. “No residue, perfect color, no burns on the cauldron. Very good work.”

I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pride as Steiner turned to us expectantly. “And the scent?”

Charles stepped forward first, leaning over the cauldron to inhale deeply. His expression shifted slightly, his brows furrowing as if he was processing something unexpected.

“It’s... interesting,” he said after a moment, his voice thoughtful.

Steiner raised an eyebrow. “Care to elaborate?”

Charles straightened, a faint, almost playful smile on his lips. “No. I think I’ll keep it to myself.”

The room stirred with quiet amusement, a few pairs exchanging curious glances.

Steiner turned to me. “And you, Miss Y/N?”

I hesitated before stepping forward, leaning over the cauldron. The scent was immediate, wrapping around me like a memory I couldn’t quite place. Saltwater, crisp and sharp, like standing at the edge of a windswept cliff. Beneath it, there was the faint, warm aroma of polished wood, something sturdy and grounding. And finally, a subtle hint of... pizza margherita?

I straightened, my heart thudding softly in my chest.

“Well?” Steiner asked, his tone expectant.

“It’s... balanced,” I said carefully, keeping my voice steady. “Very harmonious.”

Steiner nodded, looking satisfied. “As it should be. Well done, both of you.”

Charles gave me a small nudge as we carried the cauldron back to our table. “Balanced and harmonious, huh?” he whispered.

“What can I say?” I replied, smirking. “I’m good with words.”

As we sat down, the other pairs finished their presentations.

“I’m just saying, it could’ve been worse,” Daniel said as he and Max returned to their seats.

“How?” Max asked, raising an eyebrow. “How could it possibly be worse?”

“Could’ve caught fire,” Daniel replied with a grin.

Lando and Oscar were next, their cauldron emitting a faint but odd scent as Steiner leaned over it.

“Well,” Steiner said after a moment, “it’s certainly... unique.”

“See?” Lando said, clapping Oscar on the back. “Unique. Told you it was brilliant.”

Oscar sighed heavily, muttering something under his breath.

As the session ended and students began to leave, Charles lingered at our table, packing up his supplies with his usual care.

“What did you smell?” I asked suddenly, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

Charles glanced at me, his expression unreadable. “Why? Curious?”

“Just wondering,” I said, trying to sound casual.

He smiled faintly, his green eyes catching the torchlight. “I’ll tell you if you tell me.”

I hesitated, quickly looking away. “Never mind.”

Charles laughed softly, the sound low and warm. “Suit yourself.”

As we walked out of the classroom, his words lingered in my mind, mingling with the memory of the scent I couldn’t quite shake.

Ocean. Polished wood. Pizza margherita.

It was unmistakable. It was him.

…

The Slytherin common room was quiet, the kind of rare silence that felt stolen rather than earned. I sat curled in one of the oversized armchairs near the fire, letting the green-tinted flames flicker patterns across the walls. The day had been long, but I was finally alone with my thoughts—unfortunately, those thoughts had been annoyingly preoccupied with one person.

I should’ve known the peace wouldn’t last.

The door slammed open, and I didn’t even need to look to know who it was. Lando’s footsteps were as distinctive as his personality—loud, unapologetic, and just the right amount of chaotic.

“Well, if it isn’t Madame Amortentia herself,” he announced, throwing himself into the chair across from me.

I sighed, not even bothering to look up. “Do you ever knock?”

“On a common room?” he replied, feigning shock. “What do you think I am? A bloody Hufflepuff?”

“Don’t let Charles hear you say that,” I muttered.

“Oh, so we’re talking about Charles now,” Lando said, leaning forward with a gleam in his eye.

I immediately regretted opening my mouth. “What do you want, Lando?”

“To know what you smelled, darling! Can’t believe you haven’t told me yet,” he said, grinning.

I blinked at him. “What?”

“The potion,” he said, his grin widening. “The Amortentia. What did you smell?”

“I thought you were in the room,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“I was,” he replied, shrugging. “But Steiner didn’t exactly announce your deepest secrets to the class, did he? So, what was it?”

I hesitated, knowing full well that any answer would only add fuel to the fire.

“Nothing important,” I said finally, turning my gaze back to the flames.

“Nothing important?” Lando repeated, his tone dripping with disbelief. “Y/N, it’s Amortentia. It’s literally the most important thing.”

“Not to me,” I said firmly.

“You’re such a liar,” he said, laughing. “Come on, tell me. I won’t judge.”

“You will absolutely judge,” I replied, glaring at him.

“Fair,” he said, smirking. “But I’ll keep it to myself. Scout’s honor.”

“You’ve never been a Scout,” I muttered.

“Semantics,” he said, waving a hand. “Now, spill.”

I sighed, knowing there was no escaping him. “Fine. It was... saltwater. And wood. And pizza margherita.”

Lando stared at me for a moment before bursting into laughter.

“Pizza margherita?” he repeated, clutching his sides. “Are you serious?”

I rolled my eyes. “You said you wouldn’t judge.”

“I lied,” he said between fits of laughter. “That is the most ridiculous combination I’ve ever heard.”

“Thanks,” I said dryly. “Glad I could entertain you.”

“But wait,” he said, sitting up suddenly, his grin turning wicked. “Saltwater? Wood? Pizza? That’s Leclerc, isn’t it?”

My stomach twisted, but I kept my face neutral. “It could mean anything.”

“Sure,” Lando said, smirking. “Anything like... broomsticks, the ocean, and the one guy who eats pizza at every Hogsmeade visit?”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” I insisted, my voice rising slightly.

“Oh, it means everything,” Lando said, leaning forward. “You’re done for. Absolutely smitten.”

“I am not smitten,” I snapped.

“You’re blushing,” he pointed out gleefully.

“I am not blushing,” I said, though my cheeks betrayed me.

“Y/N,” he said, grinning. “This is amazing. You, the untouchable, too-cool-for-anyone Slytherin, has a crush on a Hufflepuff.”

“Say that louder,” I said sarcastically, glaring at him. “I don’t think the first-years in the dungeon heard you.”

“Admit it,” he said, crossing his arms. “You like him.”

I stared at him for a long moment, the words forming on my tongue before I could stop them. “Fine,” I said quietly. “Maybe I do.”

Lando’s eyes widened, and for a moment, he was actually speechless.

“Wait, really?” he said finally, his grin returning. “This is even better than I thought.”

“Lando, I swear—”

“No, no, this is great,” he said, cutting me off. “You’ve got to tell him.”

“Absolutely not,” I said quickly.

“Why not?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.

“Because it’s ridiculous,” I said. “And it’s none of his business.”

“It’s literally all of his business,” Lando said, grinning. “You smelled him in a love potion. That’s fate.”

“Fate doesn’t smell like pizza,” I muttered.

Lando laughed so hard he nearly fell out of his chair. “Oh, this is too good.”

I buried my face in my hands, groaning. “Why are we friends?”

“Because I’m the only one who tells you the truth,” he said, his voice still tinged with laughter.

“And what’s the truth, then?” I asked, glaring at him through my fingers.

“That you like Charles,” he said simply. “And he probably likes you, too.”

My stomach did a little flip. The words hung in the air, heavier than I’d expected. I didn’t know what to say, so I stayed quiet, the crackle of the fire filling the silence.

“You should do something about it,” Lando said after a moment, his tone softer now.

“Like what?” I asked, my voice quieter.

“We need a party,” he said, grinning again. “And we invite him.”

…

The Slytherin common room was a cacophony of sound and motion, transformed into a celebration only Lando could orchestrate. The green-tinted lanterns overhead flickered in rhythm with the enchanted music, casting shimmering shadows across the stone walls. Snacks, drinks, and laughter filled the room, the air thick with the smoky tang of firewhiskey and the faint warmth of burning candles.

I stood near the snack table, nursing a glass of firewhiskey that burned pleasantly as it went down. The heat steadied me—something I desperately needed tonight.

Lando, of course, was everywhere. He flitted between groups like the chaos incarnate he was, occasionally pausing to throw me an annoyingly knowing look. I ignored him, focusing instead on the flickering green flames of the fireplace.

“This is your party, you know,” Lando said suddenly, appearing at my side as if summoned by my irritation.

“It’s not my party,” I replied, not looking up from my drink.

“Oh, it absolutely is,” he said, smirking. “Top marks in Potions, the best Amortentia the class has ever seen, and the most interesting guest list Slytherin’s hosted in years? You should be thanking me.”

“For what?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Making my life harder?”

“For making it interesting,” he replied smoothly.

I sighed, taking another sip. Before I could respond, the crowd stirred, and I glanced up instinctively.

Charles had arrived.

He stood in the doorway, scanning the room with a tentative smile. He wasn’t in his uniform tonight, and the change hit me harder than I expected. A dark sweater clung to his frame, the sleeves pushed up to reveal strong forearms, and his hair—perfectly messy—framed his face in a way that made his green eyes seem even brighter.

“Great,” I muttered under my breath, looking away quickly.

Lando, of course, noticed immediately. “Well, well, well,” he said, his grin practically glowing. “If it isn’t your boyfriend.”

“He’s not—”

Lando cut me off with a dramatic wave. “Oi, Charles! Over here!”

I barely resisted the urge to throttle him as Charles’s gaze landed on us. His smile widened slightly, and he began making his way over.

“Stop it,” I hissed, glaring at Lando.

“I’m just helping,” he said, smirking. “You’re welcome.”

Charles reached the snack table, his easy grin lighting up the space. “Y/N,” he said warmly. “This is... impressive.”

“Lando’s idea,” I said quickly, keeping my eyes on my glass.

“Well, he did a good job,” Charles said, his voice light.

I nodded, still avoiding his gaze.

Charles tilted his head, his brows knitting slightly. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” I replied, the words escaping too quickly to sound believable.

“You sure?” he asked, his tone softening.

“Positive,” I said, finally forcing myself to meet his eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He hesitated, clearly unconvinced, but nodded. “Alright, if you say so.”

As he turned to join Alex and Carlos near the fireplace, I exhaled sharply and took another sip of firewhiskey.

“That,” Lando said, appearing at my side like a smug apparition, “was embarrassing.”

I glared at him. “Go away.”

“Not a chance,” he said, grinning. “You’re making this too fun.”

Charles didn’t stay in one place for long. He moved through the room with a quiet ease, pausing to chat with everyone he passed. I tried to focus on anything else, but my eyes kept drifting toward him—his laugh, his smile, the way he leaned casually against the fireplace like he belonged there.

“You know,” Lando said, sidling up to me again, “you could just talk to him.”

“I talk to him all the time,” I replied, rolling my eyes.

“Not like that,” Lando said, smirking. “I mean really talk to him. You know, like a human.”

“I am human,” I snapped.

“Debatable,” he said, stealing a sip from my glass.

I snatched it back, glaring at him. “Lando, leave it alone.”

“Never,” he said cheerfully. “Especially not when it’s this obvious.”

“It’s not obvious,” I said, though the heat in my cheeks betrayed me.

“Oh, it is,” he said, smirking. “And honestly? You’re lucky he hasn’t figured it out yet.”

“Figured what out?” Max asked, appearing out of nowhere with a plate of biscuits.

“Nothing,” I said quickly.

“Y/N’s tragic love story,” Lando replied smoothly.

I shot him a murderous look. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” he said, grinning.

The night wore on, the common room growing louder as the firewhiskey flowed more freely. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t avoid Charles forever. Every time I turned around, he was there—talking with Alex, laughing with Daniel, or glancing in my direction when he thought I wasn’t looking.

Lando, of course, continued to stir the pot.

“Y/N, Charles is looking for you,” he said loudly as I passed him on the way to the snack table.

“He is not,” I hissed, my cheeks flushing.

“Oh, but he is,” Lando said, smirking. “And you should probably do something about it before he gives up.”

“I’ll do something about you,” I muttered, grabbing another glass of firewhiskey.

Finally, as the night began to wind down, Charles approached me again.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked, his voice warm.

I nodded, swirling the firewhiskey in my glass. “You?”

“It’s been nice,” he said, leaning casually against the table. “Good company.”

I smiled faintly, the warmth of the drink loosening my nerves. “Lando’s idea of a party is always... chaotic.”

“Chaotic, but fun,” he said, his green eyes glinting with amusement. “Kind of like him.”

I laughed softly. “That’s one way to put it.”

He studied me for a moment, his expression shifting. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

I hesitated, the weight of his gaze making my chest tighten. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just seem... different tonight,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Distracted.”

I forced a laugh, shaking my head. “Maybe it’s the firewhiskey.”

“Maybe,” he said, though he didn’t sound convinced.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. His eyes held mine, steady and searching, and I felt the familiar nerves in my stomach.

“Well,” I said finally, breaking the silence, though my voice came out softer than I intended.

Charles didn’t respond right away. Instead, his gaze lingered on me, his green eyes warm and with a light twinkle. The noise of the room seemed to blur into the background, leaving just the quiet weight of his presence.

His expression softened, a small, almost hesitant smile tugging at his lips. The air felt heavier, charged in a way that made my chest tighten.

“I should go to bed,” I said abruptly, the words tumbling out faster than I meant. I stepped back, breaking the spell as I clutched my empty glass for something to focus on.

Charles blinked, seeming to come back to reality himself. “Yeah,” he said, his tone lighter now. “Yeah, uhm, I should probably head out too.”

There was a pause, something neither of us filled right away.

“Well, goodnight,” I said, glancing at him briefly before turning toward the stairs leading to the dorms.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said, his voice soft and steady, following me even as I walked away.

I climbed the stairs quickly, my heart thudding harder than I cared to admit.

…

The dormitory was suffocating. My thoughts churned endlessly, replaying every look, every laugh, every moment from the party with Charles. His steady gaze, the faint smirk on his lips, the warmth in his green eyes—all of it had etched itself into my mind.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

Throwing on my cloak, I slipped out of bed and tiptoed past the rows of sleeping Slytherins. The common room was empty now, its usual flickering green light dimmed to a soft glow. Even the fire was just a faint ember, its warmth fading. The silence was a relief, but I needed more than that.

I needed space.

The halls were eerily quiet as I wandered, my footsteps soft against the stone. I didn’t have a destination in mind, but my feet carried me to the Astronomy Tower, as they so often did when I needed to think.

The moment I stepped onto the open platform, the cool night air hit me, sharp and bracing. The stars above stretched endlessly, their faint light illuminating the grounds below. I leaned against the railing, inhaling deeply and letting the quiet settle around me.

“You couldn’t sleep either?”

I jumped, my heart leaping into my throat at the sound of his voice. Turning quickly, I saw Charles leaning casually against the opposite railing, his cloak draped loosely over his shoulders.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he replied, smiling faintly. “But if you must know, I was taking a walk.”

“Taking a walk?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow. “At this hour?”

He shrugged, his green eyes glinting faintly in the moonlight. “Couldn’t sleep.”

I hesitated, gripping the railing tighter. “And you thought the Astronomy Tower was the best place to fix that?”

“Maybe,” he said, stepping closer. “Or maybe I thought I’d find you here.”

My heart stumbled at his words, but I forced myself to keep my expression neutral. “Why would you think that?”

Charles tilted his head, his gaze softening. “You’ve been... different lately.”

“Different?” I repeated, my voice wary.

“You’ve been distracted,” he said simply. 

My chest tightened, and I looked away, focusing on the stars instead of him. “I’m fine.”

“You keep saying that,” he said, his voice quieter now. “But I don’t believe you.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us felt heavier than the quiet night should’ve allowed. Charles leaned against the railing beside me, his shoulder brushing mine lightly.

“What’s bothering you?” he asked eventually, his voice low and steady.

“It’s nothing,” I replied quickly, though even I didn’t believe the words.

“You’re lying,” he said, his tone soft but firm.

I turned to glare at him, though there was no real anger behind it. “Why do you care?”

Charles smirked faintly, his green eyes catching the starlight. “Because you’re usually better at hiding whatever’s on your mind. This must be serious.”

I huffed, looking away again. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” he said lightly.

His calm, teasing tone grated against my nerves, and yet... it also made the tightness in my chest ease just slightly.

“Is this about the potion?” he asked suddenly, his voice dropping just enough to make my pulse jump.

I froze, my fingers tightening around the railing. “What makes you think that?”

Charles shrugged, his smirk widening. “Call it a hunch. You’ve been weird ever since we smelled it.”

“I haven’t been weird,” I said quickly, too quickly.

“Y/N,” he said, his tone filled with amusement, “you’ve been avoiding me, stumbling over your words, and blushing more than usual. I’m pretty sure that qualifies as weird.”

“I don’t blush,” I muttered, though my cheeks were already warming.

“You do now,” he said, laughing softly. “It’s cute.”

The silence stretched again, but this time it felt charged. Charles turned slightly, his body angled toward me, and I could feel the weight of his gaze.

“What did you smell?” he asked, his voice soft.

My heart raced, every muscle in my body screaming at me to say something, anything but the truth. But the longer I stayed silent, the more his gaze lingered, steady and unrelenting.

“Nothing important,” I said finally, though the words sounded weak even to me.

“Y/N,” he said, stepping closer. “Come on.”

“Are you done?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

“Not even close,” he said, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. “Because if I had to guess, I’d say it smelled like someone you know.”

I hesitated, my pulse quickening. “What makes you think that?”

Charles smirked, tilting his head slightly. “Because you can’t look me in the eye right now. That’s usually a giveaway.”

I exhaled sharply, the tension in my chest building with every passing second.

My pulse pounded in my ears as I looked away, my grip on the railing tightening. “It smelled like... saltwater. And wood. And... pizza margherita.” I said finally, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.

Charles blinked, his expression shifting. “What?”

“I smelled you,” I admitted finally, the words barely above a whisper.

His green eyes softened, his smile fading into something more genuine. “Me?”

“Don’t make me say it again,” I muttered, looking away.

He was quiet for a moment, the weight of my confession hanging between us. Then, slowly, his lips curved into a teasing smile. “So, what you’re saying is... you think I’m handsome?”

I groaned, my cheeks burning. “That’s not what I said.”

“No, but it’s what you meant,” he said, grinning now.

“You’re ridiculous,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him.

“Ridiculously charming,” he replied smoothly, his grin widening. ”At least, according to you apparently.” 

His bright eyes met mine, the teasing glint fading as his gaze turned serious. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because,” I said, my voice trembling slightly, “it’s complicated.”

“Nothing’s complicated,” he said gently, his fingers brushing against mine. “Not if we don’t let it be.”

I swallowed hard, the warmth of his touch grounding me. “I didn’t know if you felt the same.”

Charles smiled, his green eyes crinkling at the corners. “Y/N, I’ve liked you for a long time.”

I stared at him, my heart pounding. “You have?”

He nodded, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from my face. “I smelled the cookies you baked for us.”

Before I could respond, Charles closed the distance between us, his movements deliberate yet unhurried. His lips met mine with a warmth that sent a shiver through me, like stepping into sunlight after a long, cold winter. The kiss was gentle, not hesitant but full of a quiet certainty that left no room for doubt.

His hand slid up to cup my cheek, the roughness of his fingertips against my skin grounding me, steadying the wild, racing thoughts that had consumed me for days. I felt the weight of his presence in that touch—calm and sure, like he had been waiting for this moment far longer than I’d realized.

I leaned into him instinctively, my hands grasping the edges of his cloak, the thick, familiar fabric anchoring me. His other hand settled lightly against my waist, pulling me closer. The kiss deepened, slow and unhurried yet somehow desperate, as if we were trying to say all the things we hadn’t dared to speak.

The scent of him—something crisp and clean, faintly woodsy—mixed with the cool night air, and my heart pounded so loudly I was sure he could hear it. My chest ached, not from fear or nerves, but from the overwhelming realization that this felt right.

When we finally parted, his lips lingered a moment longer, as though neither of us wanted the spell to break. His green eyes searched mine, earnest and unwavering, his breath mingling with mine in the stillness of the tower.

“I told you I never wanted to be friends,” he admitted, a faint smile tugging at his lips, the words carrying a weight that felt familiar.

“Good,” I replied softly, my heart racing as I echoed his earlier words. “Because I don’t think I could ever settle for just friends.”

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 141

Many would assume the flirtatious and caring bard to be the most touchstarved of the duo, but they would be wrong. Very very wrong. It was Geralt that sought out Jaskier's personal space like it was an all-curing ambrosia. Day and night, In town or in the woods, warm weather or the late autumn, Geralt would touch him. Always, always touching him. Don't get him wrong! Jaskier loves being groped all day by his rather attractive witcher friend, but it wasn't always the most convenient trait for his witcher to have.

*Growls* "Geralt, please, it's the waitress! She's taking our order."

Geralt clings to Jaskier's arms, plays with his hair, sniffs at his neck. He guides Jaskier with a hand on the shoulder, or an arm around his waist, or one time, - flustering Jaskier greatly - a hand on his hip. When Geralt is worried for him, he grips his arm, shields him with his body, or roams his hands over Jaskier's body, searching for injuries. Geralt is ever-present in Jaskier's personal space. It's just become a thing with them. Even in times of stress, danger, adrenaline. Geralt is fighting a manticore one day, and Jaskier is - admittedly, quite foolishly - in plain view. It wasn't on purpose! He's not an idiot! STOP JUDGING HIM! The beast goes to charge straight for him, and Geralt grabs his arm and whips him to the side, just in time to save him from the beast who then careens off a cliff. Jaskier pants, and feels the familiar weight of Geralt's hands. Geralt is snarling at him, shouting at him, and Jaskier tries very hard to understand, truly, he does, but it's hard. "Damn it, Jaskier, answer me!" Oh! REALLY should be listening now! "Hm?" "Are you hurt? Are you in pain?" "No, no, you- You saved me." Like always. Jaskier stares at his hero. His witcher. His Geralt. His love. For Jaskier does love Geralt. More than anything. And Jaskier seems to realize this fact more and more every day. With every move Geralt makes, with every word he says, with every little touch and caress. He thinks more on this fact later that night around the campfire. Geralt asks him to pass him a waterskin, but when Jaskier reaches to grab it, he hisses in pain. He rolls up his sleeve and sees a bruise in the shape of Geralt's hand on his arm. Right. From when he was saved. "I'm going to find some dinner." Geralt suddenly announces, standing abruptly and already shuffling away. "Wh- But Geralt, what about the watersk-" "I don't need it." He disappears into the bushes and trees, and Jaskier furrows his brow. He was sure they still had some food in their packs, why was Geralt so insistent on leaving? Curious... Even more curious, is in the following days, Geralt is avoiding him. From an outsiders perspective, nothing would appear wrong. But Geralt hasn't touched him once. No embraces, or odd sudden bouts of smelling Jaskier's hair, or holding his hand... He hasn't even stood closer than a meter to him. Jaskier worries to no end. What must he have done? What's changed? Why won't Geralt touch him? It's not until he's bathing one evening and he glances to the still-healing bruise that it clicks. Geralt feels guilty. The damned bleeding-heart is so convinced he's a monster that even a mark that shows protection shows only it's ugliest form to him. When Jaskier sees the bruise on his arm, he remembers Geralt saving him, he remembers the relief, he remembers feeling alive. Geralt only sees a bruise. Something of hurt. Caused by Geralt. Jaskier is so simultaneously horrified and infuriated that he slams open the door of the joined bathroom and marches into main area of the room they'd rented for the night. Still nude. Still dripping. Geralt, sat on the bed, midway through taking off his boots, was certainly shocked.

[mimikittysblog]

The Princess - Bonus Ending

Full story! ♡

Pairing: Mafia! Husbands! Poly! Ateez x Fem! Wife! Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst if you squint really hard.

Synopsis: You found the traitor.

Warnings: Death, Violence, very slight MxM, some descriptions of gore. ⚠️MNDI⚠️ If I missed anything then please let me know!

Word Count: 1.8k Words

A/N: Hehe surprise! An extra ending 🤭 I wanted to add this on in the actual fic, but I liked where it ended off too much. So I decided to make this into a bonus ending where you could read it if you want, or just ignore it if you don’t. Hope you enjoy this too!

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

It has been a little over a week since your kidnapping. Things also have finally gone back to normal.

Except…

“Joooooooonggiiiieee!!!!!”

The yell for the captain of ATZ can be heard throughout the entire mansion, along with the sound of stomping pretty pink high heels.

“Oh my.”

“Well aren’t you in trouble”

Soon the door to Hongjoongs office was bursted open revealing the little fireball of which they call ‘Their Princess.’

“Oh princess.. whats the matter??”

That question only made your frown grow and eyebrows furrow even more.

“You promised we’d finally go shopping today! You said you wanted to dress me up! I’ve been waiting in the living room for over an hour!”

“Oooohh good luck with that!”

“See ya later our troubled husband! Hope she goes easy on you!”

The boys in the room quickly scatter, but of course not before giving you a sweet kiss and a compliment to your pretty outfit.

“Oh darling.. I’m so sorry!! I got caught up with work! Things have gotten so hectic princess.. there are these idiots that are always giving us trouble! And just….” As he kept going trying to give you reasons he notices your expression hasn’t changed at all, which makes him sigh.

Ever since your kidnapping, your husbands have become too anxious. So now they can’t even put their trust into any new body guards. Especially since the one that has ratted out your existence is still unknown.

So they took it upon themselves to always be your chaperone when you go out. As much of a hassle you thought it would be, it honestly just gives them an excuse to be around you even more. So in the end you just let them do it.

“I’m sorry our princess.. I mean it I’m very sorry…” he says as he gets up and makes his way over to you, pulling you close.

“Do you still want to go now..?”

“Can you go?”

“I have to make it up to you, don’t I?”

“And those idiots??”

“Hmmm well.. why don’t you tell me what I should do to them sweetheart?”

“Hmmmph. Well if they’re giving you guys so much trouble and they’re idiots, I don’t see why you can’t just kill them off and take what you need. We have the resources and manpower, plus you’ve done it before! You did it literally a week ago. You’re ATZ for goodness sake. No one is above you!” You say like it was nothing.

And you were right.

Hongjoong chuckles as he sits down and brings you into his lap.

“While you are correct my love, unfortunately what we need from them, requires them to still be alive. For now.” He explains.

“Ughh fineee…” You groan.

As you opened your mouth to speak again. That’s when a loud shrill screech disturbed the peacefulness of the moment.

“What now?!” Hongjoong barked.

“Oh! That must be my doing!” You said with what can only be described as a maniacal glint in your eyes.

“Oh?”

“Come Joongie! I’ll show you! Then we’ll go shopping!”

“Whatever you desire Princess.” He says with a kiss to your new diamond ring.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

“LET GO OF ME!! LET GO!! I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG?! UNHAND ME AT ONCE!!”

“Then why did you run?”

“H-huh..?”

Here in the middle of your grand foyer, was a girl being held down by two men on her knees. Behind her, every single one of your maids stood their sights straight down.

While in front of her is where you stood. Tall and proud. Wearing a stoic expression however the glint from earlier still in your eyes.

“Princess?? What do we have here?” Seonghwa asks.

Your husbands have all now gathered around you on top of the staircase. Simply enjoying the show.

You spin on your heels to look up at them with a wide cheshire grin. “You’ll see my loves!”

“Sirs..! Sirs please!! Please help me! She’s mistaken!”

SMACK

“Don’t you dare speak to my husbands.” You growl. “Ugh look at what you’ve done! You’ve gotten blood on my new ring!” Your finger now slightly dripping blood from where the diamond cut her cheek.

“Oh no.. No worries sweetheart, we’ll make you a new one.” San tells you.

“Oooh! Alright Sannie Thank you!”

“Please.. why are you doing this?? What did I do wrong?”

Your laugh then rings out throughout the foyer. Echoing beautifully off the walls.

“Stop your pathetic little act.” You say as you crouch down to her eye level.

“I know you were the one that snitched about me.”

At this revelation your husbands became even more interested than before. They all perked up and blood boiling again now that they finally have the culprit.

“What?! Who even are you??!”

They’re so angry they want to just run down and tear her limb from limb. However they know you have something plan. So they just let you have your fun.

You smirk widens at Wooyoungs question. As you know how reality shattering it is to her.

“W-what..? You don’t.. recognize me?? Sir Wooyoung! I’ve worked here for years!! ..None.. of you recognize me?” She asks pitifully.

As she looks up at all of them, she sees nothing but fury and confusion. Not a single one of them having any knowledge on who she is.

SMACK

“I told you. Do not. EVER. Speak. To MY. Husbands.”

You then got up and turn back to your loves above you.

“My darlings. This here. Used to be one of our maids. And she thought that by getting rid of me. She could have all of you.”

“What?!”

“How absurd!”

“How stupid is what that is!”

“No! Its not true! It’s not! It wasn’t me!!! I-I would never betray any of you!” She continues to plea.

“Then why. Did. You. Run?”

“I-I didn’t..”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice your absence ever since I was returned home? Hah! It’s what gave you away! And you actually thought they would? and what?! go searching for you?!” You laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

“The day after I returned home from my kidnapping. I realized we were short staffed. It didn’t take me long to realize it was you. When I asked, Kim said you resigned due to health. I didn’t believe it for a second. So I had them search your room. And look what I found!”

At your signal, The head maid Kim stepped forward and gave you a pile of letters.

Love letters.

“Hmm. I’m sure you can guess what these are. You wrote them. Each and every one of them. You didn’t hide them very well. Not sure why you didn’t even just burn or take them with you.” You scoff.

“They’re quite romantic actually… If. They weren’t addressed to my beloveds.”

Her blood has gone cold. She doesn’t know what to do. She can only kneel there looking up at you as she fears her fate.

Unfortunately her fate was sealed the second she began writing these letters.

“I-it’s not.. no… I-I never even gave it to them! Please!! It’s not what it looks like.”

“You thought once you got rid of me. You could swoop in and take my place. However once I came back alive, you decided to run. Thinking I would never suspect you. You then also believed that any of my husbands would realize you stopped being around and come looking for you! Because somehow you have convinced yourself that they’re in love with you! They don’t even know you!!”

“THEY LOVE ME!!!”

SMACK

“Oh. That was the hardest one yet.” Mingi whispers to Yunho. Who nods in agreement.

While on the other side of the staircase Yeosang whispers to Jongho about how this maid is insane to ever think that.

“100%.”

“They don’t. Why would they?” You start then throwing her letters in her face.

“Why would distinguished men like them ever waste space in their brains for a lowly pathetic slut like you? Let alone space in their hearts.”

“…I just..”

“Enough talking. You’ve said far more than you deserve. And frankly I’m bored already.”

You then extend your hand out. One of the henchmen that was holding her down then hands you a syringe.

The girl then panics at the sight of an unknown syringe.

“Wait no please! Whats in that?! What are you gonna do to me?!”

“You could’ve had anything you wanted in this mansion. Anything. And I promise you. I would’ve happily given them to you. My clothes. My shoes. My jewels. My gold. Anything. I’m just that generous.”

You open the syringe cap.

“However the thing you decided to covet? Were the only things that were forbidden. My. Prized possessions. My husbands. And for that. You must suffer the consequence.”

Before she can even let out another sound of protest you injected her straight in the neck.

You and the men holding her down then stepped back as her screams quickly filled the foyer. Her skin and flesh melting straight off of her bones.

“So thats what she ordered acid for.” Hongjoong then mumbles.

“You knew she ordered acid?” Wooyoung asks

“She used my card.” Hongjoong shrugs.

It was a ghastly sight but none of them were even slightly bothered.

Well.

Of course the other maids were.

Once her screams come to a halt. And she was nothing but a pile of goop on the once spotless marbled floor.

You laughed.

Your husbands then descended the stairs.

Once your laughing fit was over you addressed the other maids who were still standing there. Mortified of what has become of their once friend.

“Now all of you. Remember my words. You are free to ask anything you want from me. I have more than enough for multiple lifetimes so I’ll be happy to give it to you. However. If you ever even for a nanosecond think. You could replace me or take any of my husbands away from me. Well. Ask her how that turned out for her.” Fire resonating deep in your voice.

“Thats all. Now all of you clean this up please!” You then say with a bright smile as if the past 20 minutes or so didn’t just happen.

“Come now darling. I believe I owe you a shopping trip.” Hongjoong then says as he puts his hand on your lower back.

“Ah yes!! Lets go! May all my beloveds come with?? Then we can have dinner?”

“Why not?” Yunho says with a bright smile.

Your husband then all lead you out to the car.

“You know no one could ever take us from you. Right Princess?” San says softly to you.

“Of course! I would never let them.”

“Of course you wouldn’t. We wouldn’t either.” Yeosang says.

“They literally can’t our love. You have us all wrapped around your pretty delicate fingers.” Wooyoung adds as he kisses your ring finger.

“I know.”

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

© mimikittysblog 2024

Tagging: @faeprincess777 @starygw3n @bee-gremlin @pinkpearlstar @sweetinsaniiity @puppyminnnie @borahae-reads @spenceatiny18 @justconniez @rosydipity @vtyb23 @beccaskz @boredlol914 @ntlmundy @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @ateezswonderland @peachyy-jooniee @robertsbbygirl @hanniehq @smally97 @pixie0627 @haven-cove @jaerisdiction @btskzfav @bbyunicornbby @tinybada @cecilleasworld @mudent @mortal-advocate @jjcanwrite

Those who are italicized I could not tag for some reason :(

[aquaticmercy]

Waste a Moment / Part 14

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.

Requested by :  @remoony

Word count : 2.2k

Note : Hey lovelies!! Sorry for those I missed in the tags last time! My notes has been weird latter and I accidentally deleted a bunch so hopefully now you’re all back here again! Please let me know if I miss anyone on the tags! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

“Never Ask to be Forgiven”

Saturday.

You blinked, your eyes adjusting to the too-clean white ceiling, your ears trying to find comfort in the beeping that marked your heart rate. The pain was still there, a dull throb radiating from every bruise and cut. 

But that was all. 

You didn’t know what you expected. Maybe some part of you thought the last four years would come back, simply because waking up this time felt so eerily similar to the first. But no—there was nothing. All you had were the last few months. The hurt, the betrayal— the nights spent in Bucky’s arms, the pain that followed.

And then you noticed him.

Bucky sat slumped in the chair beside your bed, his face buried in his hands. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His hair was messy, his eyes red-rimmed and glassy. He’d been waiting for you to wake up.

The moment he noticed you were moving, his hand shot out, hesitating just inches before it reached you. 

“You’re awake,” he murmured, relief flooding into his voice. 

You stared straight ahead. You refused to give him your attention. You didn’t want to give him your time.

“I... I’m so sorry,” he broke the silence, his voice breaking as he struggled to keep his composure. He was uncomfortable, and she was filling in the silence. “I should have told you everything.”

You stayed quiet, your eyes fixed on the wall.

“I was wrong.” The words spilled out of him in a rush. “I thought I was protecting you, but all I did was hurt you. I was terrified of losing you. But that’s no excuse. I... I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

All you heard was I this, I that. He was begging for your forgiveness, but it wasn’t something he could plead for. It was something you had to choose to give freely. On your own terms.

Slowly, familiar fury rose up in your chest, destroying any trace of empathy you had for him.

“Get out.” The words left your lips before you’d even realised you’d spoken. Your voice was barely above a whisper, yet it didn’t leave any room for debate.

Bucky’s face fell, the sadness in his eyes drowning him alive. “Please,” he tried, his voice trembling. “If you’ll just listen—”

“No.” Your voice steeled. “Out.”

You watched as he staggered to his feet, his hand slipping away from where it had been, hovering near yours. You remained still, refusing to give in to the quiet voice in your mind whispering that you still loved him— more than you had ever loved anyone before.

For a moment, it looked like he might try one last desperate plea. But then, he turned and walked toward the door.

He paused at the door frame, as if waiting for you to change your mind. But you didn’t look away. You held that cold stare until he was gone.

Sunday. 

The knock came quietly at first, as if the person on the other side wasn’t sure they wanted to disturb you. 

You didn’t answer. You had nothing left to give. No words left to say. 

The door creaked open.

Yelena moved with a hesitation you’d never seen in her before—like she wasn’t sure if she had the right to be there. 

You stayed still waiting for her to say something or leave. She did neither.

Instead, she lingered by the door, counting her breaths like she was trying to keep herself together. When she finally spoke, her voice came in the form of a whisper. “I’m not here to make excuses.”

You didn’t respond, resentment still alive in the dark corners of your mind. 

“You probably don’t want to hear this,” Yelena sighed, stepping closer, “but I’ve been sitting outside that door for hours, trying to… gather the courage to come in.”

You closed your eyes, wishing she would just go away. 

“I tried,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “I wanted to tell you so many times. But I was afraid. So I projected it on Bucky. And I’m not making excuses for him either but… I think I discouraged him.”

Yelena had to learn the hard way; you can’t force the truth out of someone. Force only breeds fear, and fear makes people say whatever they think will make the pain go away, truth be damned.

She understood that now— that there was something fundamentally wrong about using force in human relationships. But in her defence, it was all she had ever known. The Red Room, the kills she was forced to carry out—they’d taught her that control came through fear. Force became the only reliable tool in her arsenal. 

She realised now, that it was the same for Bucky.

Hydra had stripped away his humanity, piece by piece. Force had shaped him, twisted him into a weapon of someone else’s will. Force has dehumanised him. 

Of course he had resisted when met with any kind of force. Of course he had pushed back.

Yelena wasn’t going to defend him—not entirely. But she couldn’t deny that what he’d done was painfully… human. His reaction had been flawed, but it came from a place of desperate survival— and she understood that better than anyone.

She had failed to see Bucky as human. In doing so, they both had failed you.

You clenched your teeth, refusing to look at her, refusing to acknowledge the sting of her words.

When you finally spoke, your voice was cold. “You were complicit.”

You heard tension in the sharp inhale she took, in the faint tremble in her breath. “I know,” she said quietly. 

You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch the edge of her face in your peripheral vision. 

“I’m not expecting you to forgive me,” she said, taking another cautious step closer. “I just... I need you to know that I’m sorry.” Her voice broke, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. The sincerity in her voice was unbearable.

You exhaled, pressing your palms into the bed. “I don’t have the energy to fight you right now,” you muttered, the tiniest hint of acceptance forming on your face. You didn’t know if you could ever forgive either of them, but you were tired— tired of being bitter. Tired of feeling nothing but hatred.

A faint, bittersweet smile tugged at her lips. “I’ll take it.”

She pulled a chair over. After a while, she leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. “There’s something else I think you need to hear,” she said carefully. 

You didn’t respond, but you didn’t stop her either.

“It’s Bucky,” she said hesitantly. “He… he’s in pieces over you. He doesn’t sleep, he barely eats. And I know he fucked up— but…”

Your breath hitched.

“His heart is yours,” She continued softly, “It always has been. And… and I’ve just never ever seen you as happy as you were with him.”

The words hit you harder than you would ever admit. 

She only ever wanted you to be happy.

Your hands clenched into fists, your nails digging into your palms.

“I know you don’t want to see him,” Yelena added quickly. “But you should just… think about him. For your own sake.”

You didn’t answer. 

You couldn’t.

Monday. 

Today, Sam stepped inside, tablet by his side. He wore his expression as a mask of restraint, not betraying the guilt he felt underneath. He didn’t flinch, didn’t look away as he offered you quiet sympathy you weren’t ready to face yet.

Progress had been slow. You’d refused to see anyone but Yelena, but even when she was in the room, you barely talked to her. 

Maybe you just didn’t want to be isolated while you were healing— maybe you just needed a friend.

When Sam spoke, his voice was measured, like he was tiptoeing across a lake that had just frozen over

“I know you’re angry,” he said cautiously. “And you’ve got every right to be. But there’s… something you need to see.”

You wanted to tell him to leave, to stop pulling at threads you weren’t ready to unravel. Anger was easier— simpler. It didn’t leave room for doubt, didn’t force you to come face to face with how complicated everything had become. 

But his words lingered in your mind, demanding curiosity from you. 

So you gave an almost imperceptible nod you gave in response.

Sam crossed the room carefully, like he was approaching a wounded animal. He placed the tablet on your lap, waiting for you to take the reins.

“The first time— when you lost your memories, he sat with you for hours,” Sam said quietly. “That’s— It’s all here.”

When he stepped back, his hand retreated reluctantly. 

Without another word, Sam turned and left, his footsteps fading down the hall until the room was nothing but a bubble of suffocating silence.

You stared at the tablet on your lap.

You wanted to push it away, to leave it untouched, to keep its secrets buried forever. You didn’t want to do this—not again. Not let a piece of technology guide you through fragments of memories better left forgotten. But your hands had other plans. 

You gave in, pressing play. The screen came alive with a flicker, pixels blooming into existence from the void. 

And then, there he was.

Bucky, in the sterile, dim light of a hospital room, looked like he’d been hollowed out. His eyes were red and swollen, dark circles beneath them etched deep into his face. He was holding your hand, his thumb brushing absently across your skin. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, “You deserve so much better than this. I just… I just didn’t know how to handle it. I pushed you away because… because I was afraid. But I care about you. I care about you so much.”

The raw pain in his voice, the vulnerability in his eyes, sent a tremor through your chest. You could see it, the regret laid bare, the desperation searing through him like the pain of an open wound.

Here, he wasn’t hiding. He wasn’t holding anything back. He was just a man, broken and afraid, holding onto your hand like it was a lifeline.

The footage cut briefly, and when it resumed, he was still there with the same clothes, the same tousled hair.

The time stamp showed that a day had passed. 

Here, his voice was softer, more fragile. His thumb was still tracing small circles over your hand. “I’ve been sitting here for hours, and I can’t help but think about how you light up every room you walk in,” he murmured, a bittersweet smile pulling at his lips. “You always found a way to pull me out, even if I didn’t show it. Even if I didn’t deserve it.”

The words felt like a surgical knife had methodically split your heart open, removing the hatred from your body piece by piece before stitching it up again.

You couldn't quite believe— that despite being cold to you then— he had known exactly what you meant to him. 

He’d known, even when he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“I miss you so much,” he choked out, his voice collapsing. He clung to your hand as if it was the only real thing left in the world. “I can’t do this without you.”

Your throat tightened, and you felt tears burning in the back of your eyes. 

He’d spent so long hiding this, hiding everything he felt.

And it all came spilling out when you weren’t even awake to hear it.

Then he looked up, his eyes lost in a distant memory. “Do you remember the time we went on the Latveria mission together?” He let out a soft, shaky laugh. “I thought I was going to be a distraction. You laughed and said I could never be a distraction. You said I was your favourite partner. I should’ve known then that you cared about me… that I meant something to you. And I took you for granted.”

The remorse, the grief in his voice, was too much to bear. 

And then, he said it: a quiet confession of a broken man.

“I love you.”

The screen went dark, but you couldn’t move, couldn’t look away. 

Your heart twisted.

You knew now, deep down, that he was just a man—flawed, broken, fighting his own battles. Sometimes, he failed. This time, he failed you. 

But aren’t failures what makes us all so devastatingly human?

And yes, he failed. But he was also a man who loved you. The man who sat beside you for hours, holding your hand, pouring out every piece of himself in the hope that you’d feel him.

And love is something he could never fail at.

Tears slipped down your cheeks washing away the last shreds of your anger. You couldn’t forget the hurt he’d caused, couldn’t ignore the wounds he drove in your heart, but you could try to understand why it hurt so much. 

You couldn’t deny that you loved him, too—despite everything. And for the first time since all of this began, you felt that maybe, just maybe, you could find a way through the pain.

You could be whole again.

Tuesday.

Today, you were discharged. And today, you went searching for a friend—not Yelena. Things between you and her were still fragile, and you were unsure if you had even forgiven her completely.

Instead, you found yourself back at the museum, sitting in front of Bucky’s old war uniform. The glass case reflected your bruised face, a monument to your present and his past.

Alex sat beside you, eyes furrowed with concern 

"Tell me everything," she said.

And so you did.

-To be continued…

Taglist :

 @hzdhrtss @irisk12 @tayyyystan @seventeen-x @lomlbuckybarnes 

@greatenthusiasttidalwave @avatarofthetimelords @bckynatt @winchestert101 @zemosprincesa 

@nngkay @hiireadstuff @sapphirebarnes @thatesqcrush @bethexo07 

@florie1 @nyutasgirl @coraliix @harrysgothicbitch @jules-and-gemss

@infqnitysblog @isnow-0r-never @roofwitty779 @baw1066 @wasalreadyhere

@cjand10 @greatmistakes @winterslove1917 @calwitch @sebastians-love

@gyllord @brckenmemories @ethereal-witch24 @diffidentphantom

@avatarofthetimelords @lumidotexe @oscarissac2099 @currentfacination @pono-pura-vida

@blackbirdwitch22 @royalwriteroftheuniverse @ayayaeyato @btssaysstudy @unaxv

@otterlycanadian @lifeisbutadream444 @mostlymarvelgirl @ozwriterchick @m1cky-y-y

@ordelixx @jadeofspadesxp @generousmiraclebread @jeremyrennermakesmesmile@titasweetandsour 

@one-lengthiness36 @chimchoom @waitingformysandman @blackhawkfanatic @chaotic-taco-collector-blog

@aurysartstudio @olive-main @purplecolordeer @mrsnikstan @annoyingrebelsoul

@sunnyhummingbee @onelonelybitch @angelichwv @hello-lisa1026 @jason-todd-fangirl-14 

@vickie5446 @portrait-ninja @trocaderoisyummy @walkwithfluffyangels @torntaltos

@dogtorjae @hhiggs @hi172826 @eanthedeadqueen13@starsmoonn 

@notsostrangerthing @wintercrows @chiliwhore @mrsnikstan @bunnygirlwriter876

[ssentimentals]

omgomgomg your drabbles are to die for 🥰

could you do fluff prompt 16 with woozi?

awww this is so cute, hehe, thank you! and thank you for requesting, of course 💜 hopefully you will like it!

fluff prompt: 'what's on your mind? i want to listen.'

silence is something that is not appreciated enough, in woozi's humble opinion. he always found it so weird how people try to run away from silence and feel uncomfortable in it, while wooozi finds peace and strength there. having someone to be comfortable with in total silence felt like an unreachable dream for him for quiet some time, but then he met you. at first he was so cautious in getting his hopes up, but the more time he spent with you, the more he enjoyed your company and started to look forward to it. even now when you enter the studio, woozi perks up, smiling at you: 'hey there.'

you look up, smiling back at him. 'hi. i brought coffee.'

you are the sweetest, woozi thinks but what he says is: 'thank you, appreciate it.' he watches as you place a cup next to him before moving to your own desk. 'how was your weekend?'

when your smile widens, woozi fully turns to face you, ready to listen. he loves watching you, enjoys seeing emotions change on your face, likes hearing your voice. he absolutely adores silence with you because it's never awkward or forced, but he loves even more to talk to you. you spend some time catching up on your weekends and then both turn back to the work, letting silence envelop you two in this small space. it's cozy, dare woozi say. it's something he likes to bask in and he knows that what makes it cozy is you, your presence. woozi brings nothing to this silence, but you bring your warmth, your acceptance, your sweet attitude. he wants to stay in this atmosphere as much as he can and hopes you feel the same.

'what's on your mind?' woozi asks, when he notices how you stare off into the distance. his voice is soft and it doesn't startle you; you turn to him with a shy smile. 'tell me. i want to listen.'

you first hesitate but then you start talking about the dream you had last night and woozi discreetly turns off his laptop, not wanting any kind of distractions, not wanting to miss a second of you. he wonders if he'll ever have a courage to tell you exactly this. he hopes he will.

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini

[winwintea]

Belladonna! bad ending ↬ everything is not as it seems

You were too late. 

Karina was dead.

You had failed her.

Your eyes were filled with tears as you sat on the cold, blood-smeared floor of the theater’s dimly lit office. Karina’s body lay in your arms, her lifeless eyes staring into nothing. You couldn't stop the sobs that wracked your chest, nor could you escape the crushing weight of failure. The bitter taste of guilt consumed you whole, suffocating you as flashes of memories spent with Karina played in your mind.

Renjun’s name echoed through your thoughts, as loud and relentless as a gunshot. Renjun, with his twisted quest for revenge, had been the cause of so much bloodshed. Every victim he had killed was another reminder of your inability to stop him. And now, Karina was gone. 

A creak suddenly interrupted the silence, your head snapped up as the office door swung open, revealing Renjun standing in the doorway. His face was unreadable, but his presence screamed: danger. 

“You,” you spat, your voice trembling with rage. You clutched Karina’s lifeless body, as if you were protecting her from him even now. “You did this. You killed her. You killed them all! I can’t believe I ever loved you.”

Renjun slowly stepped into the room. The flicker of the lights casted shadows over his face, making his expression even harder to decipher. He didn’t respond immediately, letting the accusation hang in the air.

Then he laughed. A low, hollow laugh that sent chills down your spine. “You think I killed her?” he asked, his voice unusually calm. “You really believe that?”

“You’re a monster,” you hissed, your fingers curling into fists. “You’ve been on this path of destruction for weeks. I couldn’t stop you before, but I will now.”

Renjun tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “Oh, I’ve been watching you, love. Closely. And what I saw tonight?” He took another step closer, “You killed Karina. With your own hands.”

The words struck you like a physical blow. “That’s a lie,” you shook your head. “You’re trying to twist this, manipulate me like you do everyone else! Like you manipulated me into loving you.”

Renjun just stared at you, his gaze not changing. Suddenly, a creeping dread began to claw its way up your spine. A memory flashed—a flicker of Karina’s horrified face, a struggle, the spray of blood.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head. Your breathing quickened as the fragments of the day pieced themselves together. Meeting Karina in the office. The overwhelming anger that had consumed you. And then... Karina’s voice, desperate and pleading, calling your name.

The truth crashed down on you, a wave of terror and repulsion. Your hands, trembling and stained red, had ended her life. Not Renjun’s. Yours.

Renjun his expression almost mocking, as he watched realization dawn on your face. “There it is,” he murmured. “You’re finally seeing it, aren’t you? The truth.”

You staggered backward, releasing Karina’s body as if the more you held it, the more it would burn you. “No,” you repeated again, but the denial sounded weak even to your own ears.

Renjun crouched down next you and cradled your face in his hands, his voice a low hiss. “You were so blinded by your obsession with me, so consumed by your need to be the hero, that you didn’t even realize who the real monster was. It was you all along.”

prev ↤ belladonna! ↦

AUTHOR'S NOTE ↬ 🙈🙈

SUMMARY ↬ you've been tasked with visting and inspecting the grand rose theatre, a theatre that's been plagued with mysteries over the years. all seems well, until a string of murders follows your visit. as you further investigate, you find yourself falling for huang renjun, the beautiful male lead, and your mystery murderer who leaves you love notes and clues about who they could potentially be. will you be smart enough to be a step ahead of the killer? or will you find yourself caught within their trap?

TAG LIST ↬ @aquaphoenixz @lyvhie @nerdsungie @nanaxwi @itsashley127 @syatchy @p-d1ddy @galacticnct @neocrashed @multifandomania @lotties-readings @odxrilove @clockwork--fandoms @hyuckies18 @kaciebello @marvelahsobx @injunnie-lemon @busy-daydreaming02 @ldh0000 @wony1e @polarisjisung @onlyhyunjin @roseangelxfuma @sunoopsis @mystverse @dudekiss3r @nctjunie @onlyforyoukook

[artofchoisan]

IN NEED OF SOME STRESS RELIEF

Boyfriend!Seonghwa x Worker!Reader

The Plot: You just needed some stress relief and your boyfriend just happened to be around.

TW: Soft cock play, soft teasing & mentions of sex.

Words: 1.1k

► ATEEZ MASTERLIST

You lie on your bed, wrapped in the soft warmth of the evening, the sunset casting a gentle glow over the city. Snuggling deeper into the blanket, you feel nothing but peace and happiness—just being with Seonghwa fills you with quiet joy.

He sits beside you, reading The Count of Monte Cristo, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose. You giggle and trace your fingers along his arm, then rest your head on his lap. "I love revenge stories," you say, smiling up at him. "Watching justice win feels so satisfying."

Seonghwa glances down, adjusting his glasses with a soft smile. "Yeah, it’s like seeing everything fall into place."

You nod, fingers trailing over his skin. "It’s just as fun in movies. The build-up, the payoff... it's so worth it."

He hums, gently running his fingers through your hair. "That’s the best part. Justice always comes, even when it seems impossible."

His words soothe you, and with him, you feel nothing but calm and contentment.

You lay on Seonghwa's stomach, the room quiet, his steady breathing keeping you comfortable as time passes. You glance up at him, feeling a mischievous spark in your chest. A playful grin spreads across your face as you watch him read. Sensing your gaze, Seonghwa lowers his book slightly and raises an eyebrow at you.

You giggle softly. "I'm bored," you say, your tone teasing. "I want some attention."

Without looking away from his book, Seonghwa smirks and raises an eyebrow higher. "What kind of attention?" he asks, his voice calm but curious.

You grin, shrugging. "It's fine. Actually, I think I'll be the one giving you some attention."

With a smirk, you slowly lift the hem of his shirt, exposing his toned stomach. He exhales softly at the sudden coolness of the air on his skin. "Feels nice, right?" you ask, your voice teasing as your fingers trail lightly over his skin.

Then, without warning, you lean down and press a soft kiss to his stomach. Looking up at him with a playful smile, you add, "But this must feel even nicer, don’t you think?"

Seonghwa exhales another deep breath, and this time, he closes his book, something shifting in his eyes. There’s a glint, dark and a little dangerous, that makes your heart race. He’s still holding the book in one hand, but his focus is entirely on you now.

You giggle, feeling the change in the air between you, and without a word, you lean down and lick a slow, deliberate stride along his toned abdominal muscles. The taste of his skin and the tension in his body make the moment feel charged, more intense than before.

“Fuck…” Seonghwa exhales, his voice low and breathy.

You chuckle softly, leaning back slightly and gazing up at him. “I love when you make those sounds,” you tease, your tone light but playful.

Your fingers trail down to Seonghwa's waist, gripping it tightly as you let out a small whine, a pout forming on your lips. "Fuck," you murmur, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eyes. "I'm jealous of your slutty waist." Without waiting for a response, you bite gently into his side, earning a low groan from him.

Seonghwa chuckles softly, his voice warm and teasing. "Your waist is just as good, with or without curves," he says, and you giggle, knowing he always praises your body. The thought makes you smile—Seonghwa never lets you get away with criticizing yourself, and you know if you ever tried, you'd pay the price.

"I needed some stress relief," you confess with a playful smirk, looking up at him, your fingers still gripping his waist.

He raises an eyebrow, his eyes half-lidded as he gazes down at you. "And what do you have in mind for that?" he asks, his voice dripping with curiosity.

Your fingers glide over Seonghwa's skin, savoring its softness as you trace gentle patterns. A mischievous smile tugs at your lips. "I’ll surprise you," you whisper, letting the anticipation hang in the air.

Your eyes dart down to the noticeable bulge in his pants, and you raise an eyebrow, meeting his gaze again. "Looks like it’s you who wants something," you tease, your smirk widening.

Leaning down, you let your lips barely brush against the fabric covering his bulge, just enough to send a jolt through him. Seonghwa lets out a low curse, his head falling back as the book slips from his hand, hitting the floor with a soft thud.

You chuckle softly, glancing up at him. "Sensitive, aren’t you?" you tease, your voice light but knowing.

You pull your mouth away, sliding your hand into Seonghwa’s pants. His semi-hard length meets your touch, and a sly smile tugs at your lips as you feel him twitch under your palm.

Seonghwa shifts, glancing down at you with a breathy question. "What are you doing?"

You look up at him with feigned innocence, your tone light. "Like I said, I need some stress relief." Your fingers tighten around him, teasingly stroking before you pull his pants down completely, freeing him from the restraint. His length, still semi-hard, is exposed to the cool air.

You couldn’t help but smirk as your fingers slid slowly along Seonghwa's cock, feeling how he responded to every touch. Each time you stroked him, he let out soft grunts and moans, his breathing growing heavier. You loved when a man made sounds—it always made the moment even hotter.

Grasping him more firmly now, you began to massage it with a gentle but teasing rhythm. "Just relax," you told him softly, and Seonghwa complied, sinking back into the pillows with a quiet exhale, his body surrendering to the pleasure.

You admired him for a moment, your eyes drifting to his semi-hard wood, a playful glint in your eyes. "It’s actually... quite cute," you said with a chuckle, unable to resist the tease.

Even in his blissed-out state, Seonghwa’s eyes snapped open, his gaze locking onto yours. "You did not just call it cute," he said, his voice low but clearly amused, though there was a hint of disbelief in his tone.

You giggle, the sound light and playful, before leaning in to lick a long stripe along Seonghwa’s cock. “It’s stress relief,” you say with a smirk, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

He chuckles, the sound low and rich. “That might not stay as stress relief for long if you keep doing this,” he warns, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Are you gearing up for another round?”

With a playful grin, you lean forward and kiss the tip of him. “Maybe,” you reply, your tone light.

In an instant, Seonghwa grabs your hand and pulls you back onto the bed, now hovering over you with a confident smirk. “Oh, it’s definitely another round,” he says, leaning down to kiss you deeply.

[shadowsviper]

Finally Home

Phillip Graves x Reader

He's finally home after a long mission.

Requested by: @shadowcompanygirl

Words: 1.4k

Sorry, this took me way longer than I expected but I hope this was good enough. I didn't know how to end it so I kind of panicked and kept writing.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Phillip Graves had been gone for the past two and a half months. Unfortunately for you, it was normal for many soldiers to be gone for months. He was the CEO of the Shadow Company, it was almost guaranteed he'd be gone for weeks or months.

Phone calls and messages from him were rare. He tried his best to call whenever possible, but being in a foreign country with little to no cell service made it hard. The last message he had sent was from over a week ago. It was a picture of the cutest dog you've ever seen. After that message, he was radio silent again.

The night he returned was unexpected. He wasn't actually supposed to be back for another two weeks but his mission had ended earlier than expected.

As he drove himself home, he passed by all the landmarks you would usually point out if you were in the car. Driving past each one, he knew he was getting closer to home. To you.

The neighborhood was quiet, only the hum of his car engine could be heard. Once he parked his car in the driveway, he turned it off and got out. Phil looked at his house. It was a big suburban house he bought with you a few years ago. You had actually been the one to pick it out, something about the color and the design of the house drew you in.

Phil reached into the trunk, grabbing his duffle bags. He tried to be as quiet as possible when he closed the trunk and locked the car.

As he walked up the small steps of the front porch, he noticed a colorful bed of flowers near the bushes. A small smile appeared on his face as he admired them. He was glad that you found something to do while he was gone. He trusted you always to make the house look as nice as possible.

When he walked in, the house was dark and quiet. He figured you were probably asleep, considering it was the middle of the night. He placed his bags on the floor, wincing at the soft thumps of his belongings when they hit the floor. He crouched to remove his shoes.

He didn't notice a figure walking towards him while he was crouched down.

The noises he was making weren't as soft as he thought. He had woken you up. At first, you thought there was an intruder but when you heard nothing other than the soft thumps you assumed something just fell over. Since you weren't fully asleep, you decided to check it out. Not your brightest moment; getting out of bed in the middle of the night to investigate a sound.

You were surprised to find Phil by the door. He wasn't supposed to be back yet, and he didn't seem to notice you.

"Phil?"

Phil's head snapped up to find you standing in front of him dressed in one of his shirts. He stood up to his full height, opening his arms for you.

You didn't hesitate to walk right into his arms, allowing them to wrap around your waist. Your arms reached over to wrap around his neck. His vest still contained most of the stuff he needed for missions. It was bulky enough that it stopped you both from being pressed chest to chest. He would’ve left it at the base but he wanted to get back to you as soon as possible.

As much as you would've loved to stay in that position forever, you pulled away first, moving your hand up to cup his face. Your eyes scanned over his face, searching for any injuries. Thankfully, you found nothing except for that old scar on his cheek. Your thumb brushed over it gently causing Phil to lean into your hand. You could feel the tears forming in your eyes as you process that he was alive and well.

"I missed you," you said. Your voice was quiet and wavering a bit as if you couldn't believe he was actually standing in front of you. "You weren't answering and I thought you weren't coming back for another week or so."

"Change of plans, darling." Phil leaned in to kiss you. It had been far too long since either of you got to be in each other's arms. This time he pulled away first, he brought his hand up to wipe away a few stray tears from your face. “I’m sorry for the lack of calls. I know it worries you, but I thought a surprise would be nice.”

You sighed. You can always count on Phil to scare the shit out of you when he doesn’t answer. As long as he came back to you after a mission, you could put up with it a little longer. 

“Why don’t you get that vest off?” You tugged at the vest with a smile. “Take a shower. I’ll heat up some leftovers for you.”

Phil nodded. He was always grateful that you were willing to treat him so well when he came back even if you were tired. He did feel bad considering he hadn’t been around and left you to do all the work around the house. He gave you another kiss before grabbing his things off the floor and walking up to the bedroom. 

It wasn’t long until you heard him coming back down the stairs while you grabbed a plate out of the cabinet. You turned your head to find Phil walking towards you, his hair was damp from the shower. He walked up behind you, placing his hands on your hips and leaning in to place a few kisses on your neck. 

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he mumbled into your neck. You let out a small laugh as you plated his dinner.

You grabbed the plate and turned around making Phil lift his head from your neck. He could only stare at you with love. “You tell me every time you see me. Come on, eat.”

Phil grabbed the plate from you and went to sit down at the dining table. To say he was hungry was an understatement, he was starving. The meals he had on base weren’t as good as your cooking. If he could, he would just eat whatever you made for the rest of his life. Although he probably wouldn’t share with his Shadows, he knew he’d lose your cooking to them.

As you watched him eat, a part of you couldn’t help but think that this was all a dream and he would be gone when you woke up the next morning. A selfish part of you wanted to keep him from ever going back to the military. You wanted him here to yourself, knowing he would be safe from any harm. However, you knew nothing would keep him from that life, he saw the Shadow Company as his brothers, a second family, but of course, he saw you as his first.

“How long are you staying?” You were scared of his answer. Knowing his line of work, he could leave at any time.

Phil looked up at you, putting his fork down. “Not for a month at least. I’ve got some people handling things so I have more time with you.”

You smiled. A whole month. It’s shorter than you liked, but a month was a month. You weren’t going to take any of it for granted. Phil stood up from his seat, grabbed his plate, and walked over to the sink. You heard the clink of the plate being set down. 

“I’ll do the dishes tomorrow, let's get to bed,” Phil said, walking back over to you and holding his hand out. “I’ve kept you up long enough.”

You grabbed his hand and Phil led you up the stairs and into the bedroom. You saw the bags and vest he had haphazardly thrown in the corner of the room. You decided that it was tomorrow's problem, you just wanted to get into bed and sleep. The two of you crawled into bed, immediately wrapping your arms around each other. 

“How about I take you on a date tomorrow, darling?” Phil asked. His southern accent was a little stronger because of how tired he was. He knew it’s been a while since he’s taken you anywhere and he wanted to make sure you knew just how loved you were.

It seems like you had a smile permanently etched onto your face. You haven’t stopped since he’d gotten home. “That sounds great.”