#its so soft of them and she's so okay with it just looking at him with that little smile

[ot8xbangchansgirlsblog]

𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕕𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕞𝕖𝕒𝕟?

part one

Warning: Angst, cursing, Tired reader, really clingy Felix.

Summary: Y/n's exhausted and slowly breaking down.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Today was one of those mentally off days. Y/n’s body felt like it was on autopilot, moving without her full control. Every step she took seemed harder than the last, her mind foggy and clouded by exhaustion. Her stomach churned from the overdose of caffeine that had only made her feel worse, mixing with the emptiness of not eating anything all day. Her skin had lost its usual warmth, now pale and clammy, drenched in sweat as the lack of sleep began to hit its peak. It was a feeling she knew all too well, but one that still managed to knock her out every time.

She barely heard her manager’s voice through the haze, his words distant as he waved his hand in front of her face. “Y/n, are you listening?”

She flinched, her heart racing as the sound of his voice jerked her from the haze. Her eyes focused on him, trying to piece everything together. “Uh… what?” she mumbled, blinking in confusion, her brain struggling to catch up.

Her manager sighed but gave her a soft, understanding smile, though there was a hint of impatience there. “Oh right… I finished filing the documents you asked me to—”

“Great!” he interrupted, raising an eyebrow, his tone lighter now as he leaned forward. “Can you just go over them again and make sure there aren’t any mistakes?”

Y/n mentally groaned, the thought of reviewing pages of fine print when her head felt like it was splitting open. But she knew the importance. She couldn't afford to mess anything up.

He really was a sweet man—kind, professional, and understanding. It wasn’t his fault that they were all running on fumes. But the reality was, some idiot had royally messed up one of the key projects they were set to present. It had thrown everything off course, and now everyone was scrambling, working endless hours to catch up with the other departments that had their shit together.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll get started right now,” she said softly, the words almost coming out as a whisper. She blinked a few times, gathering the willpower to lift herself from her chair. “May I be excused?”

Her manager gave her a soft smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course, dear. Thank you so much for your hard work.” He hesitated for a moment, his gaze softening as he looked at her. “I really do appreciate it, more than you know.”

Y/n nodded, trying to hide the fatigue creeping into her bones. Before she could leave, he stopped her, holding out his wallet and pulling out his company card. “Here, take this,” he said gently. “Get yourself some dinner... well, technically breakfast.” He glanced at his watch, a guilty laugh escaping him when he realized it was already 3 AM. “You really don’t have to, but I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

She took the card hesitantly, his concern evident in his eyes. “You really don’t have to, sir. But… thank you.” Her lips curved into a tired but genuine smile, her mood shifting slightly, softened by his kindness.

He gave her a reassuring smile, watching as she stood, her shoulders heavy with the weight of the night’s work. "You deserve it, Y/n. Get some rest when you can, okay?" She nodded, grateful, and walked out of the office, the card tucked into her pocket.

It was around 4:30 AM when Y/n's phone vibrated softly on the desk. She glanced at the screen, seeing Chan’s name light up. His call was a relief in the quiet, late hours of her work shift.

“Baby?” His voice sounded husky, still laced with the grogginess of just waking up. His tone carried a trace of concern.

“Hey, Channie,” Y/n said sweetly, though her voice wavered from exhaustion. Her eyelids fluttered in an attempt to stay open as she balanced the phone between her shoulder and ear, all while continuing to work.

“Hey, where are you? It’s 4 AM…” Chan's words came out in a small panic. Y/n could tell he was still trying to shake off sleep, his voice deepening with worry.

“I’m sorry, babe, I’m still at work,” Y/n sighed, turning a page in her file while typing something up. She clicked a few buttons on her laptop before glancing out the window. The city streets were silent, the world wrapped in a peaceful stillness that seemed a world apart from her busy desk. “Mr. Ji asked me to finish something quickly... I'll be home in a bit, I promise.”

Chan let out a frustrated groan, but his voice softened. “Still at work? Baby, it’s 4 AM. Come home already.” There was a slight panic in his tone now. He shifted under the covers, careful not to wake up Han, who had been nestled against him the entire night. The warmth of his touch was still fresh on his skin, but his concern for her outweighed any desire to stay in bed.

“Yeah... I know, I’m sorry. But Mr. Ji is being really worried about this project,” she explained, the guilt in her chest growing heavier with every word. She didn’t want to add more to his plate. “I’ll be done soon. I’ll be home before you know it.”

There was a pause, followed by Chan’s soft, frustrated sigh. “I can come pick you up right now…” His voice was filled with worry. “You don’t have to be out so late by yourself.”

“No, babe—” Y/n interrupted gently, “it’s way too late, and you have practice in an hour and a half. Get some rest, okay? I’ll be home soon.” She spoke with a calmness she didn’t entirely feel, trying her best to soothe him.

Chan’s frown deepened, even though she couldn’t see it. “Who’s going to drop you off? You shouldn’t be out at this hour alone. It’s not safe…”

“I’ll ask Yi-so Unnie to drop me off,” Y/n reassured him, trying to sound convincing. “She’ll take me home. Don’t worry, please? Just go back to sleep.”

There was a long silence, and Y/n could almost hear his internal battle. Finally, with a resigned sigh, Chan let out a quiet, “Okay... just call me if you need anything, alright?”

“I promise,” Y/n said softly, a smile tugging at her lips despite the weight of the moment. She felt the stress melting a little with each reassuring word. “How are my boys?”

“They’re good, all asleep,” Chan replied, his voice lighter now. He’d finally crawled back into bed, pulling Han back into his arms, the warmth and comfort of his body providing a sense of peace. He closed his eyes, feeling the tension in his shoulders slowly ease.

"Felix is mad at you," Chan said, chuckling lightly, his tone teasing yet knowing. Y/n furrowed her brow. Chan knew all too well how dramatic Felix had been these past few days, sulking about how little time Y/n had been able to spend with him due to her hectic schedule.

Y/n sighed, leaning back in her chair, and pinching the bridge of her nose. "I know, I know," she muttered, clearly exhausted herself. "Is he sleeping with you?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of concern, though there was a small smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. Felix always slept with her every night, curling up beside her for comfort and companionship. Her long nights at the office had clearly been taking a toll on him, and that made her feel a pang of guilt.

Chan chuckled softly, shaking his head. "No, he's with Changbin," he replied, his voice still laced with a tired yawn. He stretched his arms overhead, the exhaustion evident in the way his shoulders slumped.

Y/n’s frown deepened slightly, the guilt gnawing at her as she glanced over at the clock on the wall. "I really need to wrap this up," she murmured more to herself than to Chan. It was late, and she knew Felix would be waiting for her, feeling abandoned.

"He'll survive," he said, teasing again, though there was a comforting warmth in his voice. "But maybe just send him a text before you come home, so he knows you haven’t forgotten him completely."

Y/n gave him a small, grateful smile. "I will," she promised softly, though her mind was already on the long to-do list she still had to get through. The work would never stop, but neither could her relationship with Felix—she just hoped he understood.

“I’m glad to hear that. See you soon, my love,” Y/n replied, her heart aching as she imagined him lying next to Han.

“Did you eat something?” His voice was soft, his eyes growing heavy with sleep again.

“Yeah, baby,” Y/n responded, a tiny lie slipping past her lips. “Get some rest. You sound exhausted. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Chan murmured, his voice growing quieter. He drifted back into sleep, the call fading into silence.

Y/n smiled as she quickly hung up, her gaze drifting back to the screen. But the guilt still gnawed at her—she was only halfway through her work, and the night was far from over.

It was now 5:20 AM, and Y/n was almost done with her work. The office was quiet, save for the soft hum of her computer. She was confident she’d be wrapped up by 5:45. Letting out a loud yawn, she stretched her arms overhead before grabbing her coffee cup. The bitter taste jolted her awake, though only slightly.

"Hey, neighbor," came a familiar voice. Hae, one of her co-workers, knocked lightly on the office door before pushing it open. "Hey, love," Y/n greeted with a tired smile, her eyes flickering up from the pile of papers she was working through. "Are you done with work?"

"Almost," Hae replied, swinging herself into the office chair with a casual stretch. "Are you?"

"Yeah," Y/n groaned, rubbing her face and flipping a page in her book. "I’m so tired. I can’t wait to get out of here."

"Same here," Hae agreed with a dramatic sigh, flopping back in her chair. "So, once we’re done, wanna grab breakfast? We don’t have to be back until 8 anyway." She rolled her eyes at the thought of getting only a few hours of sleep.

Y/n laughed softly. "Yeah, sure. Mr. Ji gave me the company card, so we can go get something to eat."

"Great!" Hae beamed, standing up from the chair with a bounce in her step. "See you in a bit." She waved and stepped out of the room, leaving Y/n chuckling at how adorable she was.

The moment Hae was out of sight, Y/n’s focus returned to the computer screen in front of her, but not for long. Her phone vibrated on the desk, and without looking, she picked it up. It was one of her boyfriends, likely Changbin.

"Hey, bunny," Changbin's voice came through the phone. She could hear the sound of him rattling around in the kitchen, probably making his usual protein shake. "Where are you? Did you head out for work already?"

"Hey, baby," Y/n sighed, leaning back in her chair. "I didn’t come home last night. I’m still at work."

“What? You didn’t come home?” Changbin’s voice was filled with concern. “Why? That’s so unhealthy.”

She winced, knowing what was coming. "Yeah, but remember how I told you we’re behind because of one of my coworkers?”

"Yeah, I remember..." His voice softened, but she could tell he was holding back his irritation.

“Binnie, be nice,” Y/n scolded, cutting him off before he could say something sharp. "We’re almost done, though. Just a bit longer."

He exhaled loudly. "But you’ve been coming home really late these past few days, going to work really early. You barely eat and you're practically running on coffee. We’ve barely seen you.” He pouted, even though Y/n couldn’t see it. She could hear the concern in his voice, though.

“I know. I know,” Y/n whispered, feeling her chest tighten. She was trying so hard to stay composed, but the weight of everything was getting to her. The constant pressure, the long hours—she was on the verge of breaking down. "I’m just...really tired."

There was a pause on the other end before Changbin let out a sigh. "I’m heading to the gym right now, but I’ll swing by and drop off your jacket. You need anything?"

Y/n shook her head, even though he couldn’t see it. "Don’t bother. I’m leaving the office now. You’ll probably find me home." She tried to sound nonchalant, but her voice was tight, like a rubber band stretched too thin.

“Are you sure?” Changbin asked, his voice laced with worry. "I can grab you something to eat, too, if you need it."

"No, it’s okay," Y/n quickly dismissed him, trying to push back the feelings welling up in her chest. "I’m leaving soon. Go work out. I’ll be home before you know it."

"Okay..." Changbin’s voice was defeated, but he didn’t push her any further. "I love you. Call me if you need anything, alright?"

"I will. I love you too." Y/n's words came out a little too quickly, but she needed him to hang up. Her head was starting to ache, and she couldn’t bear to talk much longer. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to spill over. "Bye, my love."

She hung up, her fingers trembling slightly as she set the phone down. For a moment, she just sat there in silence, the office lights buzzing overhead. She closed her eyes for a beat, trying to steady her breathing, but the tension was too much. It was too much.

"Finally," Y/n huffed, letting the tension leave her shoulders as she stood in the empty office, basking in the quiet after a long day of work. She had managed to finish everything in time and turned in all the reports. She finally felt like she could breathe. "Hey, neighbor, you finished?" Hae's voice cut through the stillness as she leaned casually against the doorframe. She was already wearing her coat, a small bag slung over her shoulder, ready to head out.

"Yeah, just handed everything in," Y/n said with a relieved smile. "Lemme grab my stuff and we can go."

As she tossed a few stray papers into her bag and pulled on her coat, Hae lingered in the doorway, trying to make small talk. "It’s quite chill outside," she noted, shoving her hands into her pockets.

"Yeah," Y/n chuckled, the image of her boyfriend popping into her mind. "My boyfriend wanted to bring me another jacket just because it’s so cold."

Hae raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Aww, that’s sweet. How are they, by the way?"

"They're good," Y/n said with a soft laugh. "Probably really mad I didn’t come home. I kind of...forgot to charge my phone." She cursed under her breath as she fumbled with her dead phone. "Great timing, huh?"

"I've got a charger," Hae offered with a grin, pulling out a cord from her bag. "We can charge it at the cafe."

"Thanks," Y/n said, gratefully accepting the charger and slipping her phone back into her bag. She locked her office door and followed Hae out into the chilly evening air.

After they grabbed a quick breakfast at the cafe, they parted ways. Y/n didn’t realize until she was on her way home that she had completely forgotten to charge her phone after all. The day had already begun for most people, but for her, it was time to sleep.

When she arrived at the house, she could hear footsteps echoing through the halls, indicating that everyone was getting ready for their schedules. Y/n sighed softly, pushing her tired body to unlock the door. She stepped inside, shedding her shoes and coat, and called out, "I’m home!"

Her feet dragged on the floor as she made her way through the house, exhaustion pulling at every step. "Babe?" Leeknow's voice came from the kitchen, and he appeared in the doorway. Dressed in sweatpants, a hoodie, and a cap, he looked comfortable but clearly concerned as he rushed over to her.

"Why weren’t you answering our calls?" He asked, pulling her into a warm hug, his worry evident in his voice.

"My phone died, my love. I totally forgot to charge it," she explained softly, resting her head on his chest. "Are you good? Did you sleep well?" she asked, planting a soft kiss on his lips.

"Yeah, I did," he replied, brushing a hand gently through her hair. "But you, you're burning up," he frowned, his palm coming to rest on her forehead. "Are you sick?"

"No, just really tired," she yawned, fighting to stay awake as her body screamed for rest.

"Okay, go wash up and get into bed. I’ll make you some warm hot chocolate," he cooed, guiding her toward the stairs with gentle hands.

"I just had breakfast, baby. Just get ready for work. I promise I’m okay, I just need to recharge before going back in," she reassured him, giving him one more soft kiss on the lips. "Go on, I’ll be fine."

Leeknow looked at her with concern, rubbing her cheek with his thumb. "O-okay... but I’ll come check on you before I leave, yeah?"

Y/n nodded, offering him a tired smile, before slowly making her way up the stairs, feeling his eyes follow her every step. His worry gnawed at him as he watched her sluggish movements, but he didn’t say anything.

Upstairs, the house was busy with everyone getting ready for the day. Y/n managed to sneak past everyone and into her room, where she quickly washed up and changed into something more comfortable. She turned off the lights, allowing herself to collapse into her cozy bed. A sigh of relief left her lips as she curled up, closing her eyes and letting the weight of the day melt away. The sound of the house buzzing with activity was drowned out as she finally allowed herself to fall into a deep, well-deserved sleep.

20 minutes hadn’t even passed by when suddenly her door opened and closed. She was too tired to open her eyes to see how it was but she could tell by the persons cologne.

Her blanket shifted, the soft fabric sliding off as Felix’s body pressed against hers, seeking warmth. His small sniffles reached her ears as he nestled closer, his head resting against her chest. "Y/nnie?" he mumbled, his voice thick with something between sleepiness and sadness.

Y/N’s eyelids fluttered open slowly, the hazy room coming into focus. She blinked once, twice, before realizing Felix was right there, pouting, his soft features contorted with a mixture of discomfort and longing. He wrapped his arms around her waist, his hands cold against her skin as he nuzzled his head under her chin, snuggling into the crook of her neck.

"Hey, babyboy, what’s wrong?" she murmured softly, her voice thick with the grogginess of sleep. Without even thinking, her hand instinctively moved to stroke his arm, soothing him with gentle touches. She threaded her fingers through his tousled blonde hair, the faint scent of his shampoo mixing with the warmth of his body.

Felix let out a soft whimper, his voice muffled against her skin. "You didn’t cuddle with me last night..." His words were laced with an almost childlike sadness, his lower lip protruding in a small, endearing pout.

Y/N’s heart tugged, and she felt a wave of guilt rush over her. Felix always craved her attention, often joking about it, but tonight was different. He needed her, and she hadn't been there. "I’m sorry, Lix," she whispered, her fingers brushing through his hair again. "I had so much work to do. It was a long night…"

"I know, but still…" His voice faltered, and he tightened his hold around her waist, his body curling further into hers, as if trying to get as close as physically possible. "You’ve been working so much. You don’t even have time for me anymore."

The guilt in her chest tightened. Felix was right. He was always by her side, but recently, the overwhelming weight of her responsibilities had kept them apart. "Baby," she started, her voice low, "I'm really sorry. It wasn’t intentional."

Felix looked up at her with big, wide eyes, his brow furrowed in that familiar, pouty expression she knew too well. His voice wavered, vulnerable. "But… I don’t get it, Y/N. You’re always with Han and everyone else. When it’s my turn… I’m always the last one."

She felt her chest tighten at his words. This wasn’t how she had intended for him to feel, but exhaustion clouded her thoughts, making it hard to communicate. "Sunshine," she interrupted gently, her tone more fatigued than she intended. "Can we talk later? I’m just so tired right now."

Felix’s face shifted, a flash of hurt crossing his features. "Fine. If you don’t love me anymore, just say that. You’re always laying up with Han and the rest, and when it comes to me, you just ignore me…" His voice cracked as he pulled away from her, slipping out of her grip. His body shifted away as he sat up, the room feeling much colder without him against her.

"Felix, it’s not like that," Y/N protested, frustration rising as she tried to reach for him, her tiredness now turning into worry. "I promise, I do love you. I just—"

"Whatever," he muttered, his tone sharp now, tinged with bitterness. He stood up, pacing away from her bed. "You don’t get it, Y/N. You’ve been too busy for me. I’m not going to sit here and beg for your attention anymore."

"Please, Lix," Y/N pleaded softly, trying to push herself up from the bed, but her body felt like lead, heavy with exhaustion. "I’ve been up all night, but I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry."

Felix turned to her, his back facing her as he stood by the door, frustration radiating off him. "I get it, okay? You’ve got a million things on your plate. But it’s fine. It’s whatever." His words dripped with resentment, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the conversation had drained him.

Y/N’s heart sank as she watched him storm out of the room, the door shutting behind him with a soft thud. She sank back into her bed, her mind reeling with guilt and exhaustion.

She hadn't wanted things to get like this, but as she lay there, her eyelids fluttering shut again, she couldn’t help but wonder if the rift between them had gotten too wide to fix with just a few apologies.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Don't forget to reblog and follow! <3

A/N: Thank you anon!

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[lazysoulwriter]

a little too close. - drew starkey.

She loved her job. Working as a costume designer meant she got to be around some of the most talented actors in the industry, creating pieces that would bring their characters to life. It was creative, exciting, and full of challenges—just the way she liked it.

But what she hadn’t accounted for was Drew Starkey walking into her fitting room and throwing her entire sense of professionalism out the window.

The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the studio lights above. It was the first fitting, and Drew stood there, shirt off, in nothing but his jeans and a nervous smile. He couldn’t deny the growing tension as she stood there, her measuring tape in hand, eyeing him closely. The air was thick, and he could feel every inch of the space between them.

“Okay, this might feel a little... weird,” she said, clearing her throat as she adjusted her posture, the tape slipping between her fingers. Drew swallowed, trying to focus on the task at hand. But every time she moved closer to take his measurements, his body betrayed him. The way her fingers grazed his skin, the way she gently tugged at the waistband of his jeans—it was enough to make him lose his composure.

“Sorry if I’m making this awkward,” he said with a laugh, trying to ease the tension.

But she didn’t laugh back. Instead, her eyes flicked up to his, locking for a brief, electrifying moment. She tilted her head slightly, biting her lip as she measured around his shoulders. “It’s fine. Just... stay still,” she replied, voice a little lower than usual.

Drew couldn’t help but notice how her breath seemed to catch every time she leaned in a little too close. It felt like the space between them was shrinking, and the more they tried to pretend it wasn’t there, the more it consumed them.

A week later, the second fitting arrived. Drew had been looking forward to it. Not because of the costume—he was already used to wearing whatever the costume department picked out—but because he couldn’t get that first moment with her out of his mind. He couldn’t tell if it was just the chemistry of the job or something more, but every time he thought about it, his heart picked up its pace.

When he walked into the room, she was already there, the same measuring tape in hand, but this time there was something different about the way they interacted. Less formality, more... ease.

“Here we go again,” Drew said with a grin, taking his shirt off in one swift movement.

She glanced up, her eyes quickly scanning him before her lips curled into a playful smile. “This should be fun.”

The tension from the first fitting was still there, but this time it felt different, lighter—more like an unspoken promise than an awkward mistake.

“So, tell me about your character,” she asked as she adjusted his pants, bending down slightly to fix the hem. Drew, feeling particularly bold, leaned closer.

“Let’s just say, he’s a lot like me—charming, confident, and... very good looking,” he replied, his voice oozing with a playful arrogance. She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“You sure about that?” she teased, standing up and looking him over. “I think you might have a little competition.”

Before he could ask what she meant, she stepped in a little too close for comfort, making it impossible for him to ignore the way their bodies seemed to align. His heart skipped a beat.

“I think you’re right,” he muttered, lowering his gaze. He wasn’t sure who moved first—whether it was him leaning in, or her meeting him halfway—but the next thing he knew, his lips were on hers, soft and eager, the kiss charged with months of unspoken tension.

When they pulled away, both breathless, Drew ran a hand through his hair, his grin impossible to hide. “Well, I guess that wasn’t too bad.”

She chuckled, taking a step back, trying to act like nothing happened. “I’m going to call that... a wardrobe malfunction,” she teased, a smirk playing on her lips.

The third fitting came, and Drew found himself anxiously awaiting their next encounter. The spark between them was undeniable now, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep his cool. When he walked into the room, she was there, looking as effortlessly stunning as always, her hands busy with fabric, but her eyes lighting up when she saw him.

“You’re early,” she said, glancing at the clock.

“I couldn’t wait to see you,” he said, his voice low, a flirty edge to it.

She raised an eyebrow, but the smile that followed was anything but innocent. “Careful, or you might end up getting in trouble.”

“You like trouble,” he shot back, his gaze locked on hers, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife.

And before she could say anything more, he closed the distance between them. His lips found hers again, this time more urgent, more desperate, as if neither of them could resist any longer. His hands slid to her waist, pulling her closer, his heart racing with the anticipation of something they both knew was inevitable.

When they finally broke apart, her breath coming in soft gasps, he cupped her cheek gently, his thumb brushing her skin. “You’re not getting away that easily,” he whispered.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she replied, her voice almost teasing.

“I was thinking maybe... we could grab dinner after this?” he asked, his gaze flicking down to her lips before meeting her eyes again.

She smiled, the playful glint in her eyes never leaving. “I think that sounds like a good idea,” she said, her fingers grazing his arm as she stepped back to adjust his jacket.

Later that night, as they sat across from each other at a dimly lit restaurant, their chemistry was undeniable. The flirty banter continued, the attraction only growing stronger with every passing minute.

When Drew leaned in to kiss her once more, the world seemed to stop—just for a moment, as if nothing else mattered but the two of them. And as they pulled away, both breathless and smiling, they knew that this was just the beginning.

[iamquiantrelle]

VIRGIN TERRITORY (chapter 7) ────── iamquaintrelle

# pairing: aurelien tchouameni x black oc (☔️✨💕) #wc: 4.1k

# tags: @whoevenisthiz @irishmanwhore @lettersofgold @sucredreamer @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro @rougereds @jessnotwiththemess @judectrl @ayeshami @greyishbach @haartemis @goldenngt @solidbriii @sailurmewn @rainbowsparkelsunshine @lbchi @bbgkoo @mauvecherie-writes @mufasathatniggatho @kaylalb

# summary: she's been his pa for almost a year and every day is a struggle to function around him, but he'll never see her more than that...will he? and what will happen if he finds out she's also a virgin? masterlist.

The Bernabéu is buzzing with its usual electric energy, but Leila's mind is somewhere else entirely. Carlo's got Aurélien playing as 14 again even though everyone and their mama knows he's better at midfielder, and her phone keeps lighting up with messages from William.

Things with Will are better now – easier somehow since their honest conversation. He's back to sending her memes that make her laugh, pictures of his day-to-day life in London, even some truly terrible dad jokes that shouldn't be as funny as they are. It's nice. Normal. Like they've found some kind of balance.

Except.

Except Aurélien's been taking her on dates every night this week, each one more thoughtful than the last. No more riddles, but plenty of moments that make her heart forget how to beat properly. The 'A' pendant catches the stadium lights when she shifts, a constant reminder of... something. Not quite a claim, but definitely a statement.

She touches it absently as Aurélien makes a run down the field. He's been wearing his heart on his sleeve lately – bringing her coffee before she can make it, leaving little notes in her planner, finding reasons to touch her when no one's looking.

Her phone buzzes again:

Will: Tell Aurél trying to play 14 is criminal

Will: Man's wasted there and Carlo knows it

She smiles despite herself because he's not wrong. But then Aurélien glances up at where she's sitting, that soft smile he reserves just for her making her chest tight, and...

And maybe some choices make themselves.

The final whislte blew, and the 1-3 scoreline feels heavy in the air as Leila watches Aurélien trudge off the pitch. She's already drafting notes about temporarily blocking Divisé Media – the "fans" on there are going to be brutal, and she's seen enough racism in La Liga to know exactly what's coming.

It wasn't even his worst performance, nowhere near it. But he wasn't the Aurélien she knows he can be, wasn't hitting that level that makes other teams fear him, and these so-called Madridistas will use any excuse to spew their hate. They don't care that he's got a whole media room in his house dedicated to Real Madrid history. Don't care about the way his eyes light up talking about the club's legacy, or how he studies old matches like they're sacred texts.

The racist comments are already starting to flood in – she can see them on the monitors in the press room. The same tired stereotypes, the same ignorant takes, the same bullshit rumors about transfers like they're trying to push him out. As if he hasn't bled white since day one.

"You okay?" Jude asks as she aggressively types out social media blocking instructions.

"These fans..." she shakes her head, anger making her fingers tight on her tablet. "They don't deserve him."

"They don't deserve any of us," he says quietly. "But especially not him. Not when he loves this club like he does."

She thinks about the vintage Real Madrid posters in his media room, the way he touches the crest before every match like it's a blessing, how he studies Carlo's tactics like they're gospel.

Her phone buzzes – PR wanting to know how to handle the growing online abuse. Like there's any handling it. Like they haven't been fighting this same battle since forever.

But she knows one thing: she's not letting him near social media tonight.

Not when he's already beating himself up enough.

Not when these "fans" don't understand what real loyalty looks like.

Leila's waiting outside the locker room, already having sent emails to their social team about monitoring comments, when Aurélien finally emerges. His shoulders are carrying the weight of the loss, and she can see he's already in his head about it.

"Don't," she says before he can speak. "Give me your phone."

"Ma puce–"

"Phone. Now."

He hands it over without argument, which tells her exactly how bad he's feeling. Normally he'd at least pretend to fight her on it.

"It wasn't that bad," she tries, but he just gives her a look.

"I played like shit."

"You played out of position."

"I played like I forgot what football was." His voice is tight with frustration. "Did you see the comments yet?"

"No, and neither will you." She's already changing his social media passwords. "Not tonight."

"They're right though–"

"If you finish that sentence, I swear to God..." She steps in front of him, making him look at her. "You love this club more than anyone I know. One bad game doesn't change that."

His eyes find the 'A' pendant at her throat, something softening in his expression. "You're too good to me."

"No, I just know your worth." She reaches up to straighten his collar, a habit she can't break. "Unlike these keyboard warriors who've probably never touched a football in their lives."

A ghost of a smile crosses his face. "Take me home?"

The way he says it – soft, vulnerable – makes her heart squeeze. "Of course. But first..."

She pulls out the protein shake she made earlier, the one with extra everything because she knew he'd need it.

"What would I do without you?" he murmurs, taking the bottle.

"Let's not find out."

Because these "fans" might not deserve him, but she's starting to think she might.

******************************************************

The drive to his house is quiet, Madrid streets emptier than usual like even the city knows to give him space. Leila's behind the wheel because he's too in his head to drive, his fingers absently playing with the pendant she's wearing. Every now and then his phone lights up with notifications she's glad he can't see.

"Want me to make you something?" she asks as they pull into his driveway. "Your mama's chicken soup recipe?"

He shakes his head but his hand finds hers across the console. "Just… stay? For a bit?"

The vulnerability in his voice makes her chest tight. This is a different Aurélien from the one who's been romancing her all week – no smooth lines or careful plans, just raw need for comfort.

Inside, Ocho greets them with his usual enthusiasm, picking up on his dad's mood and pressing close. They end up on the couch, Aurélien's head in her lap while she runs her fingers through his curls. She can feel the tension slowly leaving his body.

"The next match-" he starts, but she cuts him off.

"Is not tonight's problem." Her nails scratch his scalp gently. "Tonight we rest."

"We?"

"Yes, we." She tries not to think too hard about how natural this feels. "Someone has to make sure you actually sleep instead of watching match footage all night."

His laugh is quiet but real. "Taking care of me, ma puce?"

"Always."

The word slips out before she can catch it, heavy with meaning neither of them is quite ready to address. His hand finds hers again, bringing it to his lips.

"Thank you," he murmurs against her skin.

And maybe some choices really do make themselves.

They stay like that for a while, Ocho curled at their feet, the city lights casting soft shadows through his ridiculous windows. She's still running her fingers through his curls when his breathing starts to even out, the stress of the match finally catching up to him.

"We should get you to bed," she says softly.

"Stay," he mumbles, already half asleep. "Please."

And lord, the way he says it – all vulnerability and trust – makes something in her chest squeeze tight.

"Aurélien…"

"Just to sleep." His eyes open, finding hers. "I'll behave."

She should say no. Should maintain some kind of professional boundaries. Should remember she's technically still keeping her options open even though her heart's pretty much made its choice.

"I don't have clothes," she tries weakly.

"Top drawer. My t-shirts." His thumb traces patterns on her wrist. "Unless you're scared?"

"Of what?"

"Of admitting this is more than just dates and gifts."

The way he says it – direct but gentle – makes her pause. Because he's right. This stopped being just anything a while ago.

"One condition," she finally says.

"Anything."

"No match analysis until morning."

His smile is soft, real. "Deal."

They make their way upstairs, Ocho trailing behind them like he's supervising. She pauses at his bedroom door, a thought suddenly hitting her.

"These better be new sheets." At his raised eyebrow, she clarifies, "You know, because of..." she waves her hand vaguely, "all your visitors."

His laugh is unexpected. "It's a new bed, actually. New everything."

"What happened to the old one?"

"Got rid of it." He runs a hand through his curls, almost shy. "When you were in Georgia. Wanted... a fresh start."

Oh.

Oh.

"You got a whole new bed?"

"And sheets." He steps closer, fingers finding the 'A' at her throat. "I told you I was serious."

And really, what is she supposed to say to that? To this man who's apparently out here buying new furniture just to prove a point?

"Top drawer?" she manages, and his smile is soft with understanding.

"Top drawer."

And maybe this should feel weird – changing into his Madrid training shirt that smells like him, climbing into his ridiculous bed after taking the world's fastest shower. Maybe she should feel nervous when he slides in next to her, all warm skin and easy smiles.

But instead it just feels… right.

Even if she's not ready to admit why.

Not yet.

Dreams hit different when they become reality. Leila's been imagining what it would feel like to wake up in Aurélien's arms for months now, but her imagination didn't do this justice. He's got her in what's basically a headlock, one arm under her neck while the other's wrapped around her waist, but she's never felt more comfortable in her life.

His training shirt's ridden up during the night, leaving her stomach exposed to where his fingers are splayed across her skin. The heat of his touch makes her whole body warm, especially with how his basketball shorts are barely containing her curves. She should probably feel self-conscious about that, about how much of her is pressed against him, but there's something too perfect about this moment for insecurity.

Every breath he takes moves through her too, his chest pressed against her back like he's trying to eliminate any space between them. His face is buried in her neck, those curls she loves tickling her skin, and she can feel the steady thump of his heart.

This is dangerous.

This kind of comfort, this kind of intimacy – it makes her want things she's not sure she's ready for. Makes her think about mornings like this stretching into forever. Makes her forget about keeping options open or playing it safe.

His fingers flex against her skin and she knows he's waking up. Knows she should probably try to put some distance between them, try to maintain some kind of boundaries.

Instead, she finds herself melting further into his embrace.

Some choices really do make themselves.

Even at seven in the morning.

"You think too loud," his voice rumbles against her neck, still rough with sleep. Instead of loosening his hold, he somehow pulls her closer.

"I'm not thinking," she lies, very aware of how his thumb is now drawing lazy circles on her stomach.

"Mhm." His lips find that spot behind her ear that makes her toes curl. "So you weren't just having a whole internal crisis about this feeling too good?"

"How did you-"

"Because I know you, ma puce." He presses a kiss to her shoulder. "Know how your brain works. Always analyzing, always worried about what comes next."

She should probably be offended that he reads her so well, but it's hard to focus when his hand is sliding higher under her (his) shirt, fingers tracing her ribs like he's mapping territory.

"Aurélien…"

"Just feel," he murmurs. "Stop thinking about William, about boundaries, about what this means. Just be here with me."

The fact that he knows exactly what's running through her head should probably scare her. Instead, it just makes something in her chest warm.

"I need to get up," she tries. "Make your protein shake, check your schedule-"

"Five more minutes." His lips are doing devastating things to her neck. "The world can wait."

And really, how is she supposed to argue with that?

Especially when he's right – the world can wait. This moment can't.

He turns her in his arms, and any thoughts of protein shakes or schedules evaporate when his mouth finds hers. This kiss is different from their others – maybe because of the intimacy of morning, maybe because of how his hands feel on her bare skin, maybe because she's wanted this for so long she's forgotten how to want anything else.

The sound he makes when she tugs his curls experimentally – somewhere between a groan and her name – shoots straight through her. His response is to trail kisses down her neck, finding spots she didn't even know were sensitive until his lips discovered them.

When he hits a particular spot under her jaw, she can't help the moan that escapes. She feels his smile against her skin before he returns to that spot with more purpose, like he's cataloging her reactions for future reference.

Her inexperienced self is definitely not prepared for how this feels, for the way his hands span her waist, for how natural it feels to arch into his touch-

And then Ocho barks.

Of course he does.

Aurélien pulls back with a muttered curse, but Leila sends up a silent prayer of thanks because if they'd kept going… she was about five seconds from making some questionable decisions.

"Putain," he sucks his teeth, forehead pressed against hers. "I'm gonna let him out real quick. Don't move."

The command in his voice makes her shiver, but she also needs this moment to remember how to breathe properly.

Some interruptions are blessings in disguise.

As soon as Aurélien disappears with Ocho, Leila's up and in his bathroom, splashing cold water on her face like it might help her racing thoughts. The mirror shows her exactly what she feared – swollen lips, marks forming on her neck, hair a mess from his hands.

"Get it together," she mutters to her reflection, fanning her heated face. Her body's still humming from his touch, wanting things her mind isn't quite ready for.

This is what she's wanted – being with him, waking up in his arms, feeling his kisses. But that next step? Giving him something she's never given anyone? It feels huge, especially when things aren't completely settled.

She needs to talk to William properly. Needs to make things official with Aurélien before she even thinks about taking that step. Needs to-

"I thought I said not to move?"

His voice in the doorway makes her jump. He's leaning against the frame looking entirely too good for this early, eyes dark as they track over her appearance – his shirt riding up her thighs, her kiss-bruised lips, the way she's clearly trying to calm herself down.

"I needed a minute," she manages, gripping the counter behind her.

"To overthink?" He steps into the bathroom, and suddenly the space feels much smaller. "To talk yourself out of this?"

"Aurélien..."

"Tell me what you're afraid of." His voice goes soft as he stops in front of her. "Is it me?"

"No," she says quickly, because that's one thing she's sure of. "It's... I've never..."

The change in his expression is immediate – something dark and possessive flooding his features as understanding hits. His pupils dilate, jaw clenching like he's physically restraining himself.

"You've never been with anyone."

It's not a question, but she nods anyway, heat flooding her cheeks. She watches his throat work as he swallows, notices how his fingers flex at his sides.

Lord. She thought he was possessive before, but the way he's looking at her now? Like she's something precious and tempting all at once? She might have just created a monster.

"Ma puce," his voice is rougher now, deeper. "We don't have to do anything you're not ready for."

"But you're used to-"

"I'm used to nothing that matters." His hand cups her face, thumb tracing her bottom lip with new purpose. "This? Us? Being your first?" His eyes are almost black now. "That matters."

"I need to talk to William first," she admits. "Need to make things... clear."

"I know." He presses his forehead to hers, but there's something different in his touch now – more controlled, like he's holding himself back. "And we need to do this right. No rushing."

The relief that floods through her is immediate. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." His smile is soft but his eyes still hold that new darkness. "Though you might need to stop looking at me like that if you want me to behave."

"Like what?"

"Like you want to kiss me again. Because knowing what I know now?" He exhales sharply. "My control only goes so far."

She slips past him, very aware of how his eyes follow her movement with new intensity. At the door she pauses, looking back at him.

"Aurélien?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

His smile is everything, but there's something predatory in it now. Something that says when she's ready, when she's his, nothing will hold him back.

She's definitely created a monster.

But maybe that's not such a bad thing.

******************************************************

Making breakfast feels different with Aurélien watching her every move like she's prey. He's sitting at the kitchen island, coffee untouched, eyes tracking her as she moves around his kitchen in his clothes.

"You're staring," she says finally, cracking eggs into a bowl.

"Can't help it." His voice still holds that new edge. "Thinking about how no one's touched you. How no one's seen you like I have."

The eggs nearly slip from her hands. "Aurélien…"

"Tell me something," he leans forward, elbows on the counter. "How has no one…?"

"It just never happened." She focuses very intently on whisking. "Never felt right."

"And now?"

The question hangs heavy between them. She pours the eggs into the pan, finally meeting his gaze.

"Now feels… different. But also scary."

"Why scary?"

"Because you're…" she gestures vaguely at him, "you. With all your experience and models and-"

"Stop." He's around the counter before she can blink, caging her against it. "None of that matters. What matters is that when you're ready, when you're mine properly…" His fingers trace her jaw. "I'll make it perfect for you."

Her heart's definitely trying to escape her chest. "That's kind of the scary part."

"What is?"

"How much I want it to be you." She swallows hard. "But also… I'm not built like the girls you usually date."

His brow furrows. "What do you mean?"

"Come on, Aurélien." She gestures at herself, at how his shorts are stretched across her hips. "I'm not exactly model size. And when people find out about us…" She trails off, thinking about the headlines, the social media comments, the inevitable comparisons.

"Look at me." His voice is firm. "You really think I care about that?"

"The media will."

"Fuck the media." His hands find her waist, spanning it possessively. "You're exactly my type. Always have been."

"But-"

"No buts." He pulls her closer. "You think I haven't noticed every curve? Haven't thought about how perfect you'd feel under me? How much I want to-"

"The eggs are burning," she cuts him off, face flaming.

He lets her turn back to the stove but stays pressed against her back. "We're not done talking about this."

"About my virginity or my insecurities?"

"Both." His lips find her neck. "Because clearly you don't see what I see."

"And what's that?"

"Perfection." His hands slide down to her hips. "Curves that drive me crazy. Intelligence that challenges me. And the fact that no one's touched you?" His grip tightens, the sound he makes is almost primitive. "Makes me want to show you exactly how perfect you are."

"Aurélien…"

"When you're ready," he promises. "When everything's settled. When you're officially mine."

The possessiveness in his voice should probably worry her. Instead, it makes her feel… safe? Wanted?

"The eggs are definitely burning now."

His laugh is warm against her skin. "Let them. We'll order in."

"You have training-"

"We have time."

And maybe that's what she needed to hear.

That he wants all of her – curves, inexperience, insecurities and all.

His breath is hot against her ear as he pulls her back against his chest, voice dropping to that dangerous register that makes her knees weak.

"Let me tell you how this is going to go," he murmurs, one hand splayed across her stomach. "The first time? I'll be gentle. Take care of you properly." She can barely breathe, especially when his lips brush her ear with his next words: "But after that? You'll never ache for another dick besides mine."

The crude promise sends heat straight through her. Before she can process it, he's straightening up, moving away from her, and licking his lips in a way that should be illegal in at least twelve countries.

"We need to stop by your apartment before training." His eyes are dark with promise. "Get you proper clothes."

And then – lord have mercy – he actually smacks her ass before turning off the stove and heading upstairs to get dressed, leaving her gripping the counter for support.

Her virgin self is definitely not equipped for this new possessive Aurélien.

The Ethiopian pop-up restaurant is exactly the kind of place William would've taken Leila – all warm ambiance and cultural significance. But tonight he's here with Kemi, the journalist he met some weeks ago, and something about it feels… right.

He'd found her card while cleaning out his wallet, remembered how easy their conversation had flowed that day. The text was casual: Heard about this Ethiopian spot. Thought you might want to check it out?

Her response was quick but measured: As friends?

And honestly? That's exactly what he needs right now. Because yeah, he likes Leila – how could he not? But he's not blind. He sees how she looks at Aurélien, recognizes a battle that was lost before it began.

The restaurant itself is a masterpiece of pop-up ingenuity. Traditional mesobs dot the space, these intricately woven tables that make sharing food intimate but casual. The aroma of berbere and fresh coffee fills the air.

"Have you had Ethiopian before?" Kemi asks as they settle at their mesob.

"A few times in London. You?"

"My best friend is Ethiopian. Her mama practically raised me on doro wat." She smiles at his impressed look. "What? Surprised a journalist knows her food?"

"Surprised you're not taking notes for an article."

Her laugh is warm, genuine. "Not everything is a story, William."

The way she says his name – not Wilo, not Saliba – feels refreshing.

Their server brings out a spread that makes his nutritionist's stress levels spike from miles away: doro wat rich with complex spices, tender kitfo that melts on the tongue, various wots arranged like art on fresh injera bread.

"The trick," Kemi demonstrates, tearing off a piece of injera, "is to get the perfect ratio of bread to sauce."

She's right – the flavors explode when balanced properly. It's the kind of food that demands presence, attention.

"You know," she says as they share another piece of injera, "it's okay to take time."

"Time?"

"To heal. To move forward." Her eyes are knowing. "To let go."

And maybe that's what this is – not letting go of Leila exactly, but of the idea of her. Of what could have been if timing and hearts had aligned differently.

"You're pretty wise for a journalist," he teases.

"And you're pretty honest for a footballer." She wipes her fingers delicately. "Most would pretend they're fine."

"Are we having a therapy session over Ethiopian food?"

"Maybe." Her smile is gentle. "Or maybe I just recognize someone who needs a friend."

The server brings more injera, and they fall into easy conversation about everything and nothing – his childhood in France, her dreams of writing a novel, their shared love of art house films that make their friends fall asleep.

"This is nice," he says finally. "Just… this."

"Being friends?"

"Being real."

She nods, understanding. "No pressure to be anything else."

"Exactly."

They finish the meal with traditional coffee. Something in his chest has loosened, like he can breathe properly again.

"Thank you," he says as they walk out into the London night.

"For what?"

"For making it easy. To just… be."

Her smile is worth everything. "That's what friends are for."

He'll always care about Leila, but maybe it's time to care about his own heart too.

Starting with friendship. The rest can wait.

Sometimes the best endings are really beginnings in disguise.

...................tbd

[superpowereddonut]

Spencer's Star (Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader)

Hi! I was just re-watching Criminal Minds and had to write this short little drabble! Also, this is my first time experimenting with the use of 2nd person (ie. using 'you'), but I still didn't use Y/N. Please let me know what you think!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader / Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Episode: 5x13 'Risky Business' (end scene on the jet)

Warnings: Slight (canon) Spencer-targeted bullying by the team (but not from reader!)

Word count: 907

*****

It had been a good case. Well… good by BAU standards. 

Since the team had arrived in the small rural county in Wyoming, there had been no further deaths and within only 48-hours they had caught the unsub - an EMT who goaded teenages into choking themselves to death through an online ‘game’. Still, despite the quick solve, the whole case had been disturbing. You wondered whether anyone else was still dwelling on the twisted man who had repeatedly choked his own son. Or if anyone but Hotch had noticed JJ’s seemingly personal stake in this case. Move on, you reminded yourself, tomorrow there will be another case, and then another, and another. You can’t afford to dwell on each one. 

Shaking your head slightly, you forced yourself to focus on the present, just as Emily took out a wooden shape and placed it on the table between you. “What is that?” Spencer asked from the seat to your left.

"It’s called a star puzzle.” Emily replied, “It’s basically impossible to figure out.” 

You watched with interest as she began to take it apart, and noted Spencer’s quick eyes tracking each of her movements. “You have to put all of the pieces back together to form a perfect star,” she explained, “but the origin of it is kind of a romantic tale.” 

Emily began recounting the story, her voice soft and lilting. “There was this young prince who wanted to win the heart of the fairest maiden in the land. So, he climbed to the top of the tallest tower in the kingdom and he caught a falling star for her.” 

The whole plane seemed to be listening to Emily now - Rossi was watching from where he leant against the plane window next to her, and Penelope was hanging off her words as she carefully knitted what looked like a bright blue tea cosy. Even Derek, lounging on the seats behind you and Spencer, had taken off his headphones to hear better. But - as it so often did - your attention had moved to Spencer, who now had a slight crease in his brows. 

“Unfortunately he was so excited that he dropped it and it smashed into all of these pieces…” Spencer reached out to pick up the now-separated pieces of the puzzle, his arm gently brushing yours as he moved. “...so, he frantically put it back together again to prove his undying love for her,” Emily was saying, “and he succeeded, and they lived happily ever after.” You caught Penelope’s soft sigh from the back of the plane before Spencer spoke up, “That doesn’t make any sense.” He said, and you had to hide your smile at his adorably confused tone. “What do you mean?” Emily replied, now frowning as well.

“You can’t catch a falling star. It would burn up in the atmosphere.” It was becoming difficult to hide your fond amusement, and you almost had to physically sit on your hands to keep from reaching out to smooth his furrowed brow.

“Yeah but it’s not literal, Reid, it’s a fable.” 

Spencer didn’t seem satisfied, “But there’s no moral. Fables have morals.”

“Okay, so it’s just a romantic little story,” Emily rebutted, growing exasperated, “The point is, it’s basically impossible to do because you have to take all of those pieces and fit them together exactly…” 

You watched, transfixed, as Spencer’s long, nimble fingers worked quickly, slotting each piece together with precision before he gently set it down in front of you, once again in its complete shape.

“There’s a lot to hate about you Dr. Reid.” Emily said, sarcasm softening her harsh words. You heard Derek chuckle from behind you.

“Play poker with him sometime.” Rossi said with a quiet smile.

“Try playin chess with him.” Derek chimed in.

“Or Go” came Penelope’s voice from the back.

You rolled your eyes at the familiar teasing jabs, but your smile fell when you saw Spencer’s face. You knew that look. He was feeling insecure, running back over the entire interaction to see where he had missed a social cue, or messed up in his contribution to the conversation. He didn’t seem to have picked up on Emily’s sarcasm, instead taking her comment to heart.

“Don’t be fooled,” you spoke up, “he watched you take apart the star and memorised the movements. He just had to repeat the pattern in reverse.” 

Emily’s eyebrows shot up before she turned to Spencer. “Did you really?” She asked, and her tone now held unmistakable awe. He just shrugged, though you noticed the set of his shoulders relax slightly and his cheeks flush pink at her admiration.

The rest of the team gradually turned their attention elsewhere, and you were about to go fishing in your bag for a book when Spencer’s arm brushed yours again. You looked up to see his dark eyes fixed on yours. Oh, those eyes. They had always reminded you of old, cosy libraries and soft caramels that melt on your tongue. It was an effort not to lean into his warmth.

“How did you know I memorised the pattern?” He asked, his voice a soft whisper as though not to draw the attention of the others.

You allowed yourself a small smirk. “I know you too well Doctor Reid,” you said, equally quiet, “you’re going to have to try harder than that to impress me.”

His answering grin made your heart skip a beat. 

“Challenge accepted.”

[rvmanoffbarnes]

Shameless || Jun-ho x reader

Summary: Y/N is sleeping peacefully next to her coworker Jun-ho, after a rough day at the police station. However, she begins to feel a need and pleasant pain in her lower area. Would Jun-ho help her with that problem?

Warning!!! This one shot contains explicit content and sex scenes. Please MDNI.

(SMUT! mentions of pussy, fingering, dick and dirty talk 18+)

I'm in a dream.

I know I'm dreaming but it feels so real.

Jun-ho's lips take over my mouth while his hands roam every corner of my skin. I am completely naked, while he is only wearing his pants on. Our bodies move eager to be explored by the other. So i decide to slide my hand over his toned chest and linger there while my legs spread themselves wider and wider as he moves on top of me.

"I'm dying to be inside you" he says on my lips.

Jun-ho lowers his hand to my thighs and caresses them tenderly. I can't help but whimper because of the latent sensation of pain that spreads through my lower area.

Jun-ho frowns in amusement at my reaction. "Do you need me to take care of her?" He asks, touching my pussy without any shamelessness, but maintaining the softness of his touch.

I nod eager.

"Oh, my poor sweet thing"

Jun-ho laughs and starts kissing my neck without saying another word. He lowers his lips over my breasts to slide down my stomach until he is at the level of my pelvis. He bends his body and grabs my thighs to rest them on his shoulders. He looks at me one last time and asks with his eyes if he can continue, to which I accept without thinking twice. He kisses the inside of my thigh.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of her." Without further ado, he starts sucking my pussy. I squirm in place, but he stops my movements with his arms imprisoning my thighs.

"Oh Jun-ho," I moan. He plays with his tongue, shamelessly sticking it into my clitoris.

“Y/N” I hear him moan.

"Jun-ho"

I can't help but let out a moan.

“Y/N.”

This time he sounds like he's worried. I look at him confused and realize. I open my eyes agitated and see how Jun-ho next to me has a worried look. I get up, resting my hand on the bed to look at him better. I feel the heat spread across my cheeks as I realize that he's probably been listening to me this whole time. And maybe he felt me ​​move too.

"Are you okay?" he asks me.

"Yes, yes. Everything is fine" I say licking my lips.

Jun-ho looks at me with a raised eyebrow.

"You looked agitated and you were whispering my name," he points out.

He touches my forehead with his hand "You don't seem to have a temperature."

I laugh nervously running my hand through my hair and shake my head.

"It's nothing. I was just dreaming," I tell him honestly.

Jun-ho settles down on the bed and keeps looking at me.

"A nightmare?" he asks.

I suppress a smile and shake my head again. "No, no, nothing like that," I tell him.

I lie down again on my back looking at the ceiling. The rain is heard louder through the room.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up."

Jun-ho lies a little closer to me this time. "Don't worry. I was having a hard time falling asleep," he admits quietly.

I turn my back to him and try to close my eyes, grateful that he hasn't heard my dream. I still don't know for sure if he had deciphered it, because he looked worried when he saw my state a few seconds ago.

"Rest, Jun-ho."

Jun-ho just makes a sound with his mouth. I sigh and notice how he moves on the bed, feeling how he is closer to me. It doesn't bother me, but it leaves me suddenly bewildered. After a few minutes, I feel his arm slip around my waist, hugging me towards him.

"Jun-ho..." I whisper.

“Just rest Y/N” he ​​orders. I swallow and close my eyes.

A whirlwind of emotions suddenly invades me at the intimate gesture he has with me. On a day-to-day basis he appears confident and sometimes serious when we are patrolling, but always keeping a smile for me.

What surprises me is when he proceeds to venture his hand between my legs. With my hand I stop its movement quickly.

"What are you doing?" I asked him agitated.

"I'm trying to help you," he says against my ear.

"Help me with what?" I think I know the answer.

"Help you like I did in your dream" I am perplexed in my place. Jun-ho lets go of me and continues doing his job.

"Tell me if you want me to stop. I will only do it if you ask me to" he leaves his firm hand a few centimeters from my pelvis.

I don't pronounce any words. I don't know if it's because i can't or i don't want him to stop.

I leave my hand on my stomach and let him continue with what he's trying to do. He runs his hand nimbly through my sweatshirt and enters, feeling the heat that my area emits. His fingers caress my pussy over the panties I'm wearing. I whimper at the soft touch, since I was sensitive from the dream I had. I wasn't wet, but I knew that if he kept moving his fingers I would be in a few seconds.

"Okay, I'll take care of her," he whispers, placing a kiss on my neck.

Jun-ho starts running my panties aside and starts playing with my folds. My thighs squeeze his hand as if telling him not to stop. That felt very good. He lets out a mischievous laugh in my ear.

"I was flattered to hear my name leave your lips while you were sleeping" he kisses my ear, continuing to caress my pussy "Could you say my name now, please?"

He puts two fingers in me and start exploring that hidden corner of my body. I move in my place, but he doesn't allow me, clinging more to his chest. He manages to put his other arm under my body and firmly grab my tit over my shirt.

“Jun-ho,” I moan. I hear a smile from him.

"Just like that, baby" I raise my hand until it's gripped in his hair, pulling it every time he enters and leaves me with just his fingers. Then he molds his entire hand around my cunt, stroking hard and desperately.

"Jun-ho...please" I whimper. He continues with more determination. I can feel like I'm about to cum. Jun-ho bites my ear and his breathing sounds heavy.

"Do you want to cum?" He asks and I manage to nod my head. He leaves a soft kiss on my neck and then says "Cum on my fingers, beautiful"

He plays with my folds, stimulating me so that I can reach the long-awaited climax. I feel how my toes curl because of the pressure I have on my pussy. Jun-ho continues molding my tit to his liking while his fingers enter more aggressively, but without losing their sweet touch. I grab his hair like my life depends on it.

"I'm....." I can't finish the sentence.

"Do it. Cum" I feel him rub his front against my ass, suddenly feeling how hard his member is.

I whimper when I feel my pussy let out everything I had accumulated with the dream I had and Jun-ho's magnificent fingers. Jun-ho sighs behind me and removes his fingers from inside me to listen to how he sucks them with pleasure. I turn my head and try to catch my breath, noticing how he enjoys the taste of me. I smile slightly at that. Jun-ho also smiles.

"Better?" He asks in an amused tone.

"Much better" I reply.

He hugs me towards him and I still feel how hard he is.

"Jun-ho"

"Mhm?"

"Do you want me to help you with this?" I move my butt on his pants-covered dick, to which I hear a grunt from him.

"I'd love to " I smile and take care of it.

[wendichester]

Can I please request a bf!Sam x reader where

At first, Dean and Sam are very worried, bc reader is gone since the morning and by now it's late afternoon and she hasn't returned yet

And when they go looking for her, they notice, hey, the GPS on the phone is on

And Sam goes to get reader, and finds her at a grave in the graveyard thats practically abandoned

And he finds out its the death anniversary of a close family member of hers, and she's been there all day to "talk" and take care of the grave

And he just comforts her on the shitty day, taking care of reader?

I have a death anniversary coming up in a few days of someone from my family I was close with, and it'd mean a lot if you could write this as a bit of comfort <3

𐙚⋆˙˚◞♡ where you are,

summary. sam finds you where you always go on this day—grief lingering, him standing by your side.

pairing. sam winchester x reader

wordcount. 424

warnings. dealing with grief and being alone ; angsty

notes. apologies if this one is coming a little too late. i honestly didn't notice it between the other requests. hope this brings you a little bit of comfort (despite late) and know my dms are open if you need 🤍

Sam’s heart is pounding as he follows the GPS, boots crunching against dry leaves as he moves through the graveyard. The place is nearly abandoned, the air thick with late afternoon stillness, and he finally spots you, sitting cross-legged in front of a weathered headstone.

His breath leaves him in a rush.

You’re okay. You’re here.

He slows as he approaches, not wanting to startle you. He sees the small bouquet of flowers beside the grave, the way your fingers absently trace the carved name. He watches the rise and fall of your shoulders, the weight you’re carrying alone.

"You weren’t answering your phone," he says softly, finally breaking the silence.

You flinch, head snapping up, but when you see him, some of the tension in your body eases. “Oh.” Your voice is small, almost sheepish. “I—I didn’t think to check it.”

Sam exhales, closing the distance, crouching beside you. "Dean and I were worried. You were gone all day." His voice is gentle, no anger, just concern.

You nod, looking back at the grave. “I just… I had to come. It’s their death anniversary.”

Understanding washes over him in an instant. He doesn’t ask why you didn’t tell him, doesn’t push. Instead, he reaches out, his warm hand covering yours where it rests against the cold stone.

"I should’ve told you," you admit quietly. "I just—I didn’t want to make a big deal about it."

Sam frowns. “You being here all day, alone? That’s a big deal." His thumb strokes over your knuckles. "You don’t have to do this by yourself.”

Your throat tightens. "I just… I wanted to talk to them. Take care of the grave, make sure it’s not forgotten." You sniff, looking down. “It feels like if I stop coming, no one else will.”

Sam swallows hard. He understands that feeling too well. He shifts, settling beside you, one arm sliding around your shoulders, pulling you against his chest.

“They’re not forgotten,” he murmurs against your hair. “Not as long as you remember them.”

You let out a shaky breath, curling into his warmth, letting the exhaustion of the day press into him. He holds you tighter, rubbing slow, soothing circles against your back.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble.

"Don't be." He presses a soft kiss to your temple. "Just… next time, let me be here with you, okay?”

You nod against him. “Okay.”

For a while, you just sit there, wrapped in his arms, letting the world go quiet.

And for the first time today, you don’t feel so alone.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @mrs-pondwater19 ⋆ @myceliumsunshine ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7

[girl-lostconnection]

Reading Gösta Berling’s saga (novel of Swedish author Selma Lagerlöf (incredible woman btw, first to ever win Nobel Prize in literature (which says more about Nobel prize committee but let’s not get sidetracked).

And there is a moment in the book where the Plain is complaining that she is surrounded by mountains.

[“It is quite enough,” says the plain to the mountains; “if you set up your walls about me, that is safety enough for me.”

But the mountains will not listen. They send out long rows of hills and barren table-lands way down to the lake. They raise great look-out towers on every promontory, and leave the shores of the lake so seldom that the plain can but rarely stretch itself out by the soft, broad sands. But it does not help to complain.

“You ought to be glad that we stand here,” the mountains say. “Think of that time before Christmas, when the icy fogs, day after day, rolled up from the Löfven. We do you good service.”

The plain complains that it has no space and an ugly view.

“You are so stupid,” answer the mountains; “if you could only feel how it is blowing down here by the lake. One needs at least a granite back and a fir-tree jacket to withstand it. And, besides, you can be glad to have us to look at.”

Yes, looking at the mountains, that is just what the plain is doing. It knows so well all the wonderful shiftings of light and shade, which pass over them. It knows how they sink down in the noon-day heat towards the horizon, low and a dim light-blue, and in the morning or evening light raise their venerable heights, clear blue as the sky at noon.]

And now I’m thinking about Reader x Simon, where he’s required to keep them safe and sound, sheltering from cold and winds, nurturing their flowers and herbs so they continue growing. It’s a tedious task, a difficult task — one that takes its toll on him.

But how could he want for other job when you are so lovely with your glistening rivers and your swaying buds of field flowers. His perfect beautiful darling.

You get prettier day by day and you flourish because he is here. Because he protects you, because he’s sheltering you from every cruel gust of wing, from heavy snows and blizzards. He’s the reason you look so lovely.

That’s reward enough for him.

As for your complaining? Well, he can live with that. You get fussy sometimes, you are still young, not like him who’s been standing for centuries. But it’s okay, you will understand with time. You have all the time in the world

(Also this little moment where mountains are like ????what do you mean nothing to look at??? Fucking look at me, I’m pretty enough)

[aspenmissing]

Hey this is very specific but could you write viktor + any characters you wish with an reader with ichthyophobia? (Fear of fish)

I know its very uncommon and it sometimes make me feel stupid for fearing this animal, but its the eyes y'know? It makes me panic

ʜᴇʀᴇ ꜰɪꜱʜʏ ꜰɪꜱʜʏ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ|| 6654 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɪᴄʜᴛʜʏᴏᴘʜᴏʙɪᴀ, ᴅᴇꜱᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜰɪꜱʜ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ! ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜰᴇᴀʀ! ɪᴛ ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ Qᴜɪᴛᴇ ᴄᴜʀɪᴏᴜꜱ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇʏᴇꜱ, ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ Qᴜɪᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴇᴀᴋʏ. ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇʏ, ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜰᴇᴀʀꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ɴᴏ ꜱʜᴀᴍᴇ ɪɴ ɪᴛ!

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx/ᴘᴏᴡᴅᴇʀ

JAYCE

Y/N had always kept her fears hidden. Most people wouldn't even know she had them. But deep down, there was one thing that haunted her: fish. Not just any fish—large ones, small ones, fish with scales that shimmered, with eyes that seemed too knowing. It was a fear she couldn't explain, a phobia that had plagued her ever since childhood, but she managed to avoid it as best as she could. Until that day.

The sun was setting over Piltover, casting a warm golden hue over the city. Jayce had invited Y/N to join him for dinner at a newly opened restaurant that had been getting rave reviews. It was supposed to be a peaceful evening, a rare moment for the two of them to relax and enjoy a meal together, away from the pressures of their work at the Academy. It was a chance to unwind, to share time away from their responsibilities—just the two of them.

=

As they walked into the elegant dining hall, the scent of fresh seafood wafted through the air. Y/N felt her stomach twist into knots. She looked around the large room, noticing the massive tanks filled with various kinds of fish, their glimmering bodies swimming lazily beneath the water. The sight, the movement, the flickering scales—it all made her heart race.

"Wow, this place looks amazing," Jayce said, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the stunning décor. "I heard their seafood is top-notch. I know you're not picky, but I think you'll really enjoy it."

Y/N forced a smile, trying to ignore the growing unease in her chest. She couldn’t let Jayce know, not yet. She had always been good at hiding things, especially fears that didn’t make sense to anyone else. As they were led to their table, her eyes darted around the room, unable to avoid the fish tanks any longer. She felt her heart rate increase, her breath growing shallow. The sound of water splashing softly in the background only made things worse.

The waiter ushered them to their seats, and Y/N sat down, careful not to let her unease show. But she could feel the coolness of the glass tank against her back, the fish gliding through the water, their eyes seeming to follow her every movement. She tried to focus on the menu, but the flickering shadows of the tanks kept drawing her gaze.

"Is everything okay?" Jayce asked, his voice soft and filled with concern. He was looking at her now, his brow furrowed in that way he always did when he sensed something was off. He reached for his glass of water, but his gaze remained fixed on her, searching for any signs of discomfort.

Y/N swallowed hard, trying to steady herself. Her throat felt dry, and she had to remind herself to breathe. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She tried to focus on the menu in front of her, but her mind kept drifting back to the tanks, to the fish... their eyes.

Jayce was quiet for a moment, his gaze never leaving her. He wasn’t convinced. The silence between them stretched, but it was a warm kind of silence—like the pause before a storm, a stillness full of unspoken understanding.

"You’re not fine," he finally said, his voice gentle but firm. "I can tell. You’ve been quiet since we sat down, and your hands—" He looked at her hands on the table. They were trembling ever so slightly, but it didn’t go unnoticed. "Y/N, what’s going on?"

Y/N froze. She had been trying to push the fear down, to keep it buried where it belonged, but the weight of Jayce’s gaze and his words made it harder to ignore. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking in a shaky breath. "I... I have a fear of fish," she admitted, the words coming out in a rush. "Ichthyophobia. I know it sounds silly, but... I can't help it. I can't even look at them for too long without feeling like I’m suffocating."

Jayce’s expression softened, the lines of worry smoothing out as he processed her words. His hand moved across the table slowly, gently reaching for hers. He took her hand in his, his touch grounding, warm. He squeezed it reassuringly. "It's not silly," he said softly, his voice filled with understanding. "It makes sense, really. I should’ve realized sooner. You’ve always been so strong, and I guess I missed the signs." He lowered his gaze for a second, regret creeping into his voice. "I’m sorry for not noticing before."

Y/N felt a wave of relief wash over her. It was such a simple thing—his understanding, his care—but it meant more to her than she could express. Most people would have laughed, brushed it off, or even worse, dismissed her fear as trivial. But Jayce... he didn’t. He didn’t make her feel small for something so deeply ingrained in her, something that she had struggled with her entire life.

"You don't have to stay here," Jayce continued, his voice warm and steady. "If you’re not comfortable, we can go somewhere else. We can grab something to eat at my place if you'd prefer that. I don’t want you to feel trapped. I just want you to feel okay."

Y/N looked at him, her heart swelling with gratitude. The tenderness in his eyes, the way he looked at her like she mattered—it made everything feel a little easier. She blinked away the sudden rush of emotion that threatened to overwhelm her.

“I didn’t want to ruin the evening,” she said, her voice small.

Jayce shook his head, his gaze unwavering. "You haven’t ruined anything, Y/N. It’s just dinner, and we can make it better. We’ll figure something out, together." His words held a promise, and his hand on hers felt like an anchor.

With a soft sigh, Y/N managed a small smile. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

He smiled back, his eyes warm. "I’m glad I’m here too." He signaled to the waiter, who was still waiting nearby, and gave a brief apology as they prepared to leave. Jayce’s hand never left hers as they stood up, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel the weight of his support, as though she wasn’t carrying this burden alone anymore.

As they stepped out into the cool evening air, the city lights flickered around them, and Y/N let out a deep breath, feeling lighter than she had in hours. She had always thought that facing her fears alone was the only way, but with Jayce beside her, she realized that she didn’t have to.

They didn’t need fancy dinners or luxurious restaurants to enjoy themselves. They just needed each other. And in that moment, Y/N knew that, no matter what happened, as long as Jayce was by her side, she could face anything—even the deepest fears.

VIKTOR

The sun had barely risen, casting a soft, golden hue over Piltover's bustling streets. You and Viktor had just finished a meeting at the Academy, and now, you were walking down one of the many avenues toward the market. Viktor leaned on his cane, his leg brace clicking faintly with each step. Despite the visible signs of the difficulty in his gait, he moved with a quiet grace, always steady, always precise. Over the years, you had come to admire the way Viktor handled his struggles, never letting them define him, always pushing forward.

“I think I may have found something for your next project,” Viktor said with a spark of excitement in his voice. “A new component for the energy converter—more efficient than what we’re currently using. It should help reduce the power fluctuations we’ve been experiencing.”

You smiled up at him, appreciating his eagerness. Viktor’s mind was always racing, his thoughts constantly moving forward, thinking of ways to make the world around him better. It was something you admired deeply, the way his passion for progress never wavered.

“You’re always thinking ahead, aren’t you?” you teased, nudging him gently with your shoulder.

He chuckled softly, though there was a hint of pride in his eyes. “I have to keep the world moving forward. It’s the only way we can truly make a difference.”

As the two of you rounded a corner, the familiar scent of the fish market hit you. At first, it was just a faint trace in the air, but as you drew closer, the pungent odor of salt and seaweed filled your senses. It was overwhelming.

Your stomach churned, the sensation crawling up your throat. The smell—sharp, musky—was enough to send your heart into a frantic beat. You had never liked the market, but today, it was different. The fear seemed more intense, the anxiety more suffocating. Every time you passed by, it was like the fish stared at you—darting in their tanks, their eyes glossy, their gills fluttering in a grotesque dance.

You felt your pulse quicken, and the edges of your vision began to blur. The market loomed before you like a wall, a deep, suffocating fog surrounding you.

"Y/N?" Viktor’s voice cut through the rising panic in your chest. His tone was soft, but there was an underlying concern that you couldn't ignore. You hadn’t realized how tense you had become, your hands tightening around the straps of your bag, your body frozen in place.

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to calm down. But the fear wouldn’t dissipate. “I... I can’t do it, Viktor,” you whispered, barely able to control the tremor in your voice.

He studied you for a long moment, his brow furrowing in quiet understanding. Viktor had never pushed you to confront your phobia. He had seen how it affected you, how it made your world shrink when you were near fish, and he always respected your space, your boundaries. He never treated it as a trivial fear.

Without a word, Viktor reached out, his hand gently resting on your shoulder. He was slower than usual, his leg brace clicking as he shifted his weight, but his touch was steady, grounding. “It’s alright,” he said softly, his voice like a warm balm against your anxiety. “We don’t have to go through there.”

You swallowed, trying to hold back the wave of emotion that threatened to overwhelm you. You had learned to manage your fear over the years, but moments like this made you feel helpless, exposed.

Viktor gave a small nod and began to lead you away from the market, guiding you down a quieter, less crowded path. The further you moved from the source of your panic, the more your breathing slowed, though your heart still pounded in your chest.

“Thank you,” you said in a barely audible voice. Your words were quiet, but they carried a weight of gratitude you couldn’t express fully. Viktor had seen you at your worst—had seen your fear take hold of you—and yet, he never treated you as if you were broken or weak.

Viktor gave you a slight smile, his eyes softening. “There’s no need to thank me,” he replied. “You’re important to me. I never want you to feel uncomfortable, not with me.”

You smiled faintly, glancing up at him. The years spent with Viktor had only deepened your admiration for him. He was never loud, never overbearing. His presence was quiet, constant, and his understanding of you—of your fears, your vulnerabilities—was something you had come to rely on.

“I know,” you said, your voice a little steadier now. “It’s just... I don’t want to seem childish. I should be able to handle it. I’m not a child anymore.”

Viktor’s expression softened further, and he gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Fear is not childish, Y/N. It is part of being human. We all have our fears, our burdens. They don’t define us, but they shape us. And sometimes, it’s okay to be afraid.”

You looked at him, your chest still tight, but his words eased the weight just a little. Viktor’s calm presence had a way of making you feel less alone in your struggles. He didn’t belittle them, didn’t try to force you to be something you weren’t.

A soft laugh escaped your lips, lightening the mood between you. “Maybe one day I’ll get over it,” you mused.

Viktor chuckled, his eyes twinkling with a hint of amusement. “Perhaps. But until then, I’m happy to be your guide through the difficult parts.” His voice held a quiet confidence, a promise that he would always be there, no matter what.

You smiled up at him, grateful for the comfort his words brought. “And I’m happy to have you with me.”

The rest of the walk passed in comfortable silence, the weight of your phobia slowly lifting as you put more distance between yourself and the market. Viktor, though still dependent on his cane and leg brace, moved with purpose and grace, his presence beside you a steady anchor.

The streets of Piltover were alive with the sounds of the early morning—horse-drawn carriages, the chatter of vendors setting up their stalls, the distant clatter of a forge—but for you, it was Viktor’s quiet presence that filled the space, making the world seem less overwhelming. With each step, you knew you were not facing the world alone.

JAYVIK

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, the soft light from the morning sun trickling through the blinds. It was early—too early for anything to feel like a disturbance. She stretched, letting out a quiet yawn as she swung her legs off the side of the bed and made her way towards the kitchen.

The apartment was still quiet, save for the soft clink of cups and the occasional rustling sound coming from the kitchen. She padded across the floor, still groggy, and rubbed at her eyes.

As she reached the kitchen doorway, her yawn caught in her throat.

Her gaze drifted to the far corner of the room, where she stopped in her tracks. A fish tank. Sitting there. Cold, alien, filled with swimming fish. Her eyes widened, her breath caught, and suddenly, the air felt far too thick. The sound of water, the flicker of their darting movements—it all hit her like a ton of bricks.

Y/N’s chest tightened, and she gasped, choking on the remainder of her yawn.

Jayce, who had been sitting at the kitchen table with Viktor, immediately looked up, startled by the sound. “Y/N?” he called, concern flooding his voice. “What’s wrong?”

Viktor turned his head at the same time, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Y/N?” he echoed, his cane tapping lightly against the floor as he pushed himself to his feet.

She didn’t respond right away. She couldn’t. Her body had frozen, locked in place as her eyes stayed glued to the tank. Fish. Why?

Jayce stood up, quickly walking over to her with a worried frown. “Hey, you okay?” His hand gently touched her arm, but she didn’t move.

Viktor reached them a moment later, his gaze flicking from Y/N’s stiff posture to the tank in the corner. His sharp eyes observed the situation, understanding flickering in his expression.

Y/N finally managed to tear her eyes away from the fish, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “I... I can’t... I can’t—” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, the words tangled in her throat. Her body was still locked in place, frozen in terror.

Viktor’s voice, soft and filled with curiosity, cut through the tension. “Fish?” He raised an eyebrow, offering Jayce a questioning glance.

Jayce, who had been sitting at the kitchen table and watching the exchange with a slight smile, now looked from Y/N’s rigid form to the tank, his expression shifting from amusement to shock. “Yeah, I thought I’d get some fish for Viktor,” Jayce explained, scratching the back of his neck. “You know, so when we get tired of hearing him ramble, he can talk to them instead.” He chuckled, but then his smile faltered as he took in the sight of Y/N’s fearful expression. His face drained of color as realization dawned on him. “Wait, you’re... scared of fish?” he asked softly, his voice full of surprise.

Y/N nodded, her wide eyes still fixed on the tank, her body stiff with dread. The thought of the fish—their darting eyes, the slickness of their bodies as they swam in unpredictable patterns—made her feel suffocated. She couldn’t bear it, couldn’t make herself move.

Jayce’s expression softened instantly, his shock turning to concern. “Oh, Y/N... I had no idea. I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice full of remorse. "I’ll get rid of them, Y/N. You don’t have to worry. I’ll make sure they’re gone.”

“Hey, we’ll take care of it,” Viktor added, stepping closer and placing a hand on Y/N’s shoulder. His touch was warm and steady, grounding her. “You’re safe.”

Y/N’s eyes were wide as she looked from Jayce, who was already moving to pull the tank away, to Viktor, who was trying his best to calm her with his quiet presence. The tension in her chest slowly began to ease.

“I... I don’t want to ruin things. I know you thought it’d be nice,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jayce quickly shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips as he tossed a reassuring glance at Viktor. “Hey, it’s okay. We didn’t know. We’ll make it right.”

Viktor’s gaze softened even further as he squeezed her shoulder gently. “We’ll fix it together, love. You never have to face this alone.”

Y/N’s breath finally began to slow, her body unwinding just slightly as the weight of her fear began to lift. She was still anxious, still unsettled by the presence of the fish, but with Jayce and Viktor by her side, she felt like she could breathe again.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N said again, more firmly this time.

Jayce smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “You don’t have to apologize. We’ll handle it.”

Viktor, ever the calming presence, leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Always together, Y/N. Always.”

And just like that, with them there, Y/N felt a little lighter, knowing that whatever the world threw at her, she didn’t have to face it alone.

VANDER

It was one of those blistering hot days in Zaun when the sun seemed to burn through every layer of clothing. The kids—Vi, Powder, Mylo, and Claggor—were playing around, splashing in the shallows of the lake, their laughter echoing through the quiet air. Vander had decided to take them out of the hustle of the streets and let them cool off in the peaceful water. Y/N, however, had her reservations. She stood at the shore, arms folded, watching the kids with a smile but keeping a safe distance from the water.

She had always been wary of fish—an odd, irrational fear that seemed to freeze her up anytime she was too close. It wasn’t something she often talked about, not even with Vander, but it was a part of her. So, while the others dived and swam, she stayed back, her gaze flicking nervously toward the ripples in the lake.

Vander caught sight of her hesitation, a playful glint in his eyes as he looked toward the kids. He made a decision then, a decision that would come with consequences, but he couldn't resist.

“Hey, love! You’re missing out on the fun!” Vander called out, grinning. The kids paused in their swimming to look at her.

Y/N gave a nervous smile, shaking her head. “I’m good here, really.”

Vi pouted, “Aw, come on, Y/N! The water’s fine!”

Vander's grin widened as he stood up, taking slow, purposeful steps toward Y/N, who was now trying to retreat further from the water. “You’re no fun, Y/N. You should really give it a try,” he said with a wink. Before she could react, he scooped her up, effortlessly lifting her into the air.

“What are you—” Y/N started, but it was too late. With a chuckle, Vander tossed her into the lake.

Y/N let out a surprised laugh as she splashed into the cool water, the shock of the plunge making her momentarily forget her fear. She surfaced quickly, coughing and laughing, her heart still racing from the unexpected drop. The kids laughed and cheered, watching her splash around in the water.

“See? Not so bad!” Vander called out, his voice full of pride.

But Y/N’s laughter faltered as she felt something brush against her foot. Her eyes widened in panic, and she looked down. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the slimy, wriggling form of a fish dart past her feet. She froze, her breath catching in her throat as her fear washed over her like a tidal wave.

“Vander! Vander!” she screamed, her voice high-pitched and filled with genuine terror. Her panic took over, and before she knew it, she was scrambling out of the water with wild, frantic movements, heart pounding in her chest. She found a nearby rock to scramble onto, her legs shaking as she stood there, breathless.

Vander’s playful grin instantly dropped, his face turning to one of deep concern. “Y/N?! What happened?” he called, rushing toward her with a furrowed brow, his voice filled with worry. “Are you hurt?”

Y/N was panting, still unable to steady her breath as she looked down at the water, her body trembling as if she expected the fish to leap out after her. “Fish!” she managed to stammer, her voice shaky. “There was—there was a fish!”

Vander’s face softened with concern, his heart sinking at the sight of her panic. He quickly approached her, kneeling down in front of her with an urgency that made his usually calm demeanor falter. “You’re not hurt, right?” he asked gently, his hand reaching out but hesitating just before it touched her shoulder.

Y/N shook her head quickly, though she was still visibly shaken. “I’m fine... I just—” She took a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. “I just don’t like them, Vander. I—I can’t...”

Vander’s heart ached as he processed the depth of her fear. He’d known she was wary of water, but he hadn’t realized it was so intense. Gently, he reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder, offering her a comforting squeeze. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Y/N gave him a small, forced smile, though it was clear she was still recovering. “It’s alright... I just need a minute,” she said, trying to calm her racing heart.

Vander carefully helped guide her away from the water's edge, his hand never leaving her back. He could feel the weight of what had happened, knowing it was supposed to be a fun outing for the whole family—but now, he only wanted to make sure Y/N was okay. The kids had stopped playing, sensing the change in atmosphere, and stood at a distance, unsure of what to do.

“I should’ve been more careful,” Vander muttered under his breath, his brows knitted in guilt. “I didn’t realize it would be this bad.”

Y/N, taking a few steadying breaths, looked up at him, her expression softening. “It’s fine,” she said, her voice more controlled now, though it still held a trace of unease. “I just... I really don’t like fish. It’s nothing personal, I swear.”

Vander exhaled, a sigh of relief, though his worry still lingered. “Next time, I’ll stick to more... fish-free activities, I promise.”

The kids, realizing it wasn’t serious but still wanting to comfort Y/N, gathered around her. Mylo, always the troublemaker, flashed a mischievous grin. “Guess we’ll just have to keep you out of the water next time, huh?”

Y/N laughed, though it was a little shaky at first. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea,” she agreed, her hand resting on Mylo’s shoulder.

Vander chuckled softly as he stood by her, watching the kids return to their playful antics. His heart was lighter, but he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling of his earlier mistake. He had meant to bring some joy, but now he just wanted to make sure Y/N knew she was safe and that he’d never do something like that again.

“Maybe next time,” Vander suggested with a warm, reassuring smile, “we’ll just take a walk around the lake. No fish involved.”

Y/N nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Next time, I think I’ll stay dry. For everyone’s sake.”

Vander chuckled, the sound full of warmth. He pulled her a little closer, his arm resting around her shoulder. They both watched as the kids continued to splash in the water, their laughter filling the air once more. The day wasn’t ruined—it had just become another reminder of the bond they shared, and how important it was to care for each other.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow across the lake, Vander and Y/N stood at the edge together, silently enjoying the peaceful moment. The kids had returned to their fun, but Vander and Y/N had a quiet understanding.

SILCO

The night was thick with tension, the distant hum of Zaun's machinery blending with the occasional clank of metal, a reminder of the industrial heart of the city. The alleys of Zaun felt familiar to Y/N, the familiar scent of oil and rust in the air, yet tonight, there was something off about the air. A strange unease had settled over her as she walked, her footsteps echoing off the damp walls.

"You're not feeling it, are you?" Silco’s voice cut through the silence, as smooth as ever, but with an edge that made Y/N pause.

She turned to find him leaning casually against a wall, his usual calm demeanour concealing the storm that brewed behind his eyes. He was always a mystery to her, a man who ruled Zaun with cold precision, but there was something comforting about his presence. He was different with her—less guarded, even if he rarely showed it.

"Feeling what?" she asked, her voice betraying the slightest hint of hesitation.

"The pressure," Silco replied cryptically. "You're tense. Uncomfortable."

She looked away, focusing on a flickering streetlamp as her unease deepened. The truth was, she hated being near the water. Ever since she was a child, she'd been haunted by a fear she couldn’t shake, the irrational terror of fish. The sight of their glistening scales and sharp teeth paralyzed her with anxiety.

"I remember the first time I saw you like this," Silco continued, stepping closer but keeping a careful distance, his gaze sharp yet warm. "You froze when we passed by that vendor with the tanks of fish. I never took you for one to freeze at something so trivial."

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, the memory of the last time she'd been near water flooding her mind. She had tried to be brave, to push through the dread when a fish tank in a shop window had caught her eye, but her heart had raced, and her body had frozen. She had felt trapped in the moment, her breath shallow and her limbs heavy, unwilling to move, to breathe. Silco had been there, watching from a distance, but she hadn't been able to stop the panic.

She remembered the way he had approached her after, his presence like a quiet anchor, his steady eyes never judging, only waiting. His silence had been the only thing that kept her from breaking down in that moment.

"I don’t know how you do it," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "I can’t even look at a fish without freezing. It’s like they’re watching me. Waiting for me to slip."

Silco studied her for a moment, his eyes narrowing as if considering his next words carefully. He was a man of few words, but when he did speak, it was never without purpose. "You think I don’t have fears, too?" he asked, his voice low and filled with something deeper than just the question. "I’ve seen the depths of this city, the monsters that lurk beneath the surface. I’ve learned to live with them, control them. But I never forget they’re there."

His words struck her harder than she expected. For a long time, Y/N had thought of Silco as invincible, a man who was beyond the reach of ordinary fears and weaknesses. But hearing him speak so candidly about his own struggles—his own demons—made him seem more human, more real. It made her wonder if the fears that bound her could ever be understood by someone like him.

Y/N shifted uneasily, the tension palpable between them. She had never shared this part of herself with anyone—not even Viktor or Jayce, who knew most of her other vulnerabilities. To let someone in this far was frightening, but Silco wasn’t just anyone. He was the man who had seen her at her weakest, and yet, never once had he shown pity. It was his strength in that silence that had kept her steady.

"You think I’m weak because of it?" she asked, her voice edged with self-doubt. She was afraid that in confessing her deepest fear, she might lose the respect she had fought so hard to keep.

Silco’s expression softened, but only for a moment. “No. In fact, it’s your strength to confront your fear that fascinates me. Most run from it."

There was a strange intensity to his gaze, the way he saw right through her, peeling back layers she had worked so hard to keep hidden. For a brief moment, Y/N forgot about the fear that had held her captive for so long, and all that was left was the way Silco made her feel: seen, understood, and somehow, not so alone.

"You don’t have to face it alone," Silco added, his voice low, almost a growl. His words carried a promise, a subtle invitation. "The world has a way of throwing things at us. Things we fear. But we can fight them together, if you want."

His offer was like a lifeline, something she hadn’t expected from a man like Silco. She had always seen him as distant, hardened by the brutality of his world, but in this moment, there was something softer, a side of him that she wasn’t sure he even knew he had. It was tempting. More than tempting—it was everything she had ever wanted in a world that had often felt too cold to be vulnerable in.

Y/N nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. It was terrifying to face her fears, but there was something oddly reassuring in the idea that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to do it on her own. With Silco by her side, the thought of confronting her fear didn’t seem quite as impossible.

"I’m not asking you to fix me," Y/N said quietly, her voice filled with resolve. "I just… I just want to try. I want to be stronger than this."

Silco’s lips twitched in a rare, fleeting smile. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to let her know that her words had meant something to him. "Then try. You’ll find that when you face the things that haunt you, they lose their power."

The air between them shifted, and for the first time that night, the tension seemed to ease. In that moment, Y/N realized that beneath the surface of their lives, full of fear and uncertainty, was something far stronger—a bond she hadn’t expected to find, but now couldn't imagine living without.

"Thanks," she said softly, the words hanging in the air like a promise, a weight they both understood.

"Anytime," Silco replied, his gaze still lingering on her, knowing that their path forward would not be without its trials. But with him, at least, she wouldn’t have to face it alone. And that, in itself, was a form of victory. Together, they would face whatever came, whether it be the monsters beneath the surface or the fears that threatened to drown them. With Silco at her side, Y/N felt a strange sense of peace, as if, for the first time, she could breathe without the suffocating weight of her fear.

POWDER/JINX

It was late in the evening, and the glow of Zaun’s ever-present industrial lights cast long shadows against the grimy walls. Y/N had grown accustomed to the chaotic, buzzing city over the years. The constant hum of machinery, the clattering of metal against metal, and the sharp stench of burning oils and chemicals had become background noise. But there was something else about Zaun that still unsettled her—something that had been with her for as long as she could remember.

It wasn’t the noise or the smell. No, for Y/N, the thing that haunted her the most was the gnawing fear of fish.

Her ichthyophobia had started when she was younger, back in Zaun’s deep, grimy canals where the water was never clear and the fish were twisted things—scavengers that fed on the waste of the city. She had never been fond of the water, but the sight of those strange, flickering creatures swimming in the muck was enough to make her heart race. It wasn’t just the appearance of them—it was the way they slithered, the way they moved, and the way their eyes always seemed to follow her.

As much as she tried to block out the occasional fishy odor that lingered in the air from time to time, it still managed to creep up on her. The stench that came from the damp alleys or through the cracks in the walls would twist her stomach in knots, and no amount of distractions could make it go away. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d told anyone about her fear, and honestly, she didn’t think it was something she’d ever admit. In a city like Zaun, showing weakness could get you killed, and she wasn’t about to risk that for something as silly as fish.

=

Today, though, she'd ventured deeper into the heart of Zaun, looking for materials she needed to continue her work. Jayce had warned her to be careful, but Y/N was beyond taking it easy. She’d spent enough time hiding in Piltover or in the Academy, and today she just needed to get her hands dirty. So, she navigated the maze of streets, past the smoky factories and underground markets, until she found herself in an area that still felt wild, untamed, and full of danger.

It was there that she encountered Jinx, the whirlwind of chaos and mischief that had become an unexpected, yet oddly fitting, part of her life. Jinx was always unpredictable, always bouncing from one extreme to the next. She wasn’t someone Y/N had ever really expected to be friends with, but over the years, they’d grown to know each other. Jinx’s chaotic nature seemed to balance out Y/N’s more grounded demeanor, and despite everything, there was a strange understanding between them.

“Boom! Surprise!” Jinx shouted from behind, and before Y/N could turn around, a loud pop echoed through the air, followed by a strange squelching sound.

Y/N spun around, her heart leaping into her throat, only to find Jinx holding a fish—big, slimy, and wriggling like it was a prize she’d just won.

“Whoa! You scared the heck out of me!” Y/N gasped, pressing her hand to her chest as her mind raced to calm itself.

Jinx stood in front of her, grinning wildly, her usual manic energy unmistakable. “Oops! My bad!” she said with a giggle. “But hey, you’re looking a little tense! I thought you’d love a little bit of fun!”

Y/N, her eyes still wide, quickly looked at the wriggling creature in Jinx’s arms. Her stomach dropped, and her hands shook slightly as her throat tightened. The fish's scales shimmered under the dim light, its tail flicking in the air like it could leap at her any second. It was exactly the kind of fish she hated—the ones that looked like they could crawl out of the water and into her world.

Instinctively, Y/N took a few steps back, her eyes never leaving the writhing creature.

Jinx tilted her head, noticing the subtle shift in Y/N’s posture. The grin on her face faltered, replaced with curiosity. “Hey, what’s up with you? You look like you saw a ghost or something.” She wiggled the fish in front of Y/N as if it were some sort of prize. “You don’t like my new friend?”

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest. She tried to swallow, but her throat felt dry. “Uh... no, it’s not that,” she said quickly, forcing out the words. “I just... I don’t really like fish.”

Jinx’s grin grew wider, but there was something else in her eyes now—a little flicker of understanding. “Ohh, I see! Fishy-wishy got you all freaked out!” she teased, but her tone wasn’t mocking. There was no laughter in it, just a light-hearted curiosity.

Y/N’s breath hitched, and she could feel herself retreating inward. “Yeah, something like that…” Her voice trailed off, unwilling to admit how much it actually terrified her.

For a long moment, there was silence between them. Y/N couldn’t bring herself to look away from the fish, which seemed to mock her by wriggling closer to her feet. The smell of the creature wasn’t helping her nausea.

But then, to her surprise, Jinx paused. The manic energy that always seemed to buzz around her flickered just for a moment. Jinx lowered the fish to the ground, watching it flop around uselessly on the dirt and grime of the alley.

“Okay, okay, no fish for you,” Jinx said, her voice softer than usual, though still with that edge of mischief. “I get it. No fishy-wishy today.”

Y/N exhaled, her shoulders relaxing just a little. The tension that had been gripping her was starting to ease, but she still couldn’t shake the lingering discomfort in her chest. She’d never told anyone about her fear before. It always felt so... ridiculous. But there was Jinx, someone she knew to be unpredictable, not always kind, and still, she had been more considerate than Y/N expected.

“Thanks, Jinx,” Y/N said, her voice quiet but sincere. “I really appreciate it.”

Jinx’s grin returned, broader and more mischievous than ever. “No problem, Y/N! You’re safe with me. No fish gonna hurt you. You’re my friend, after all!” she said, giving Y/N a playful shove.

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head, feeling the last bit of tension slide away. “Yeah, I’ll take your word for it. And, uh, maybe something a little less... explosive next time?”

Jinx made a dramatic pout, crossing her arms over her chest, but it was all an act. “Lame!” she exclaimed, bouncing on her heels. “Fine, I’ll keep it low-key. But I can’t promise no bangs in the future!”

Y/N shook her head, laughing softly as Jinx took off down the street, skipping like a child, her infectious energy carrying her away.

As Y/N continued her walk through the streets of Zaun, the weight of the encounter stayed with her. Jinx had shown her a side of herself that Y/N hadn’t expected—a surprising kindness buried underneath all the chaos. It wasn’t much, but for the first time in a long while, Y/N felt a little less alone in Zaun. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for now, she could breathe a little easier, knowing that not everything in this city was as harsh as it seemed.

In a world where survival meant toughness, Y/N had learned something new: sometimes, kindness came from the most unexpected places—and maybe, just maybe, that could be enough to change things.

[octaneink]

Confessions

Will Lenney x Fem!Reader

Previous: Only the memories Summary : The memory of his forehead kiss replays in her mind, soft and lingering. Did it mean anything? She can’t stop wondering, her thoughts tangled between hope and doubt. Warnings : mentioned death of a relative (breifly mentioned) Notes: Heads up for my fellow lactose intolerant folks, this gets cheesy as FUCK...enjoy 🩷

You wake to the sound of rain tapping against your bedroom window, a steady rhythm that feels almost soothing, if not for the whirlwind of thoughts spinning in your head. The memory of yesterday plays on a loop behind your eyelids, vivid and unrelenting. His thumb brushing your shoulder, slow and deliberate, as if he was afraid you might shatter under his touch. His quiet patience, sitting there beside you in silence, offering nothing but his presence when words felt too heavy. And then—the press of his lips against your forehead. So soft, so fleeting, it could’ve been a trick of the mind, a figment of your sleep-deprived imagination. But it wasn’t. It was real.

You sit up, the sheets pooling around your waist as your fingers drift to the spot where he’d kissed you. It still tingles, a phantom warmth lingering like a promise you’re too afraid to fully believe in. You press your palm there, as if you could trap the feeling, keep it from fading. Was it just for comfort? The question gnaws at you, relentless. You’d replayed the moment all night, dissecting every glance, every smile, every word he’d said. Did he mean it? Did it mean something? Or was it just Will being Will—kind, thoughtful, always knowing exactly what to do to make you feel better?

You reach for your phone, the screen lighting up with the time and a handful of notifications—none of them from him. Your stomach twists, a mix of disappointment and something else you can’t quite name. You scroll through your messages anyway, half-hoping you’d missed something, but there’s nothing. Just the same group chat with the lads, a meme from James, and a reminder about the shoot today.

You toss your phone onto the bed, running a hand through your hair as a small, involuntary smile tugs at your lips. The rain outside picks up, its gentle rhythm filling the quiet of your flat like a comforting lullaby. You glance at the framed photo on your night stand—the one of you as a child, grinning with your family, so full of joy and innocence. It’s been there since you got it back, a reminder of what you’d almost lost, but also a symbol of how life has a way of bringing things full circle.

For a moment, you let yourself imagine what your grandparents would say if they were here now. You can almost hear their voices, warm and teasing, encouraging you to stop overthinking and just let yourself feel. The photo doesn’t judge you—it feels like it’s rooting for you, a silent cheerleader from the past.

You take a deep breath, the tension in your chest easing slightly as the weight of your thoughts begins to lift. Maybe it’s okay to let yourself hope. Maybe it’s okay to believe that the kiss meant something more, even if it was just a small, fleeting moment. After all, wasn’t it the little things that often meant the most? The way he’d looked at you, his eyes soft and searching, as if he was trying to tell you something words couldn’t quite capture. The way his thumb had brushed your shoulder, steady and reassuring, like an anchor in the storm of your emotions.

“Get it together,” you mutter to yourself, though this time there’s a lightness in your voice, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. You swing your legs over the side of the bed, your feet hitting the cool floor as you stretch, feeling the knots in your shoulders loosen. The rain outside continues its gentle patter, a soothing backdrop to the quiet determination settling over you.

You glance at the photo on your night stand one last time, the child in the frame grinning back at you as if to say, “Go for it.” And for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel a flicker of excitement, a spark of anticipation for what the day might bring.

You’re reorganising the prop table, the familiar chaos of cables, mics, and random bits of equipment scattered across its surface. The rain outside has slowed to a drizzle, but the sound still filters through the walls, a steady hum that feels almost comforting. You’re lost in the rhythm of sorting—coiling cables, and testing mics—when the door swings open with a soft creak.

Will walks in, hair damp from the rain and slightly out of breath, as if he’d sprinted there. In one hand, he holds two takeaway cups, condensation beading on the sides of one—an iced coffee, you realise, his usual. In the other hand is a steaming cup, the sleeve damp from his grip. He freezes when he sees you, his hand still on the door handle, cheeks flushing pink. For a moment, he just stands there, his chest rising and falling as he catches his breath. Then he clears his throat, his voice louder than necessary. “Morning.”

“Morning,” you reply, suddenly hyper-aware of the three feet between you. Your heart skips a beat, the memory of his forehead kiss flooding back in vivid detail…again. You force yourself to focus on the prop table, fiddling with a mic to keep your hands busy.

He steps closer, his shoes squeaking faintly on the floor, and thrusts the steaming cup toward you. “Extra shot,” he says, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. “Figured you… uh… might need it.”

Your fingers brush as you take it, and the brief contact sends a jolt of warmth through you. His gaze flicks to your forehead, lingering for the briefest moment before he looks away, his throat bobbing as he swallows. You can’t help but notice the way his Adam’s apple moves, the way his jaw tightens just slightly, as if he’s holding something back.

“Thanks,” you say, fighting a smile. The coffee smells rich and familiar, and you take a sip, the warmth spreading through you. It’s exactly how you like it. You glance at him, surprised. “How’d you know?”

He shrugs, his lips quirking into a half-smile as he takes a sip of his iced coffee, the straw crinkling slightly. “Lucky guess.”

Before you can respond, the door bursts open again, and James strides in, whistling a tune. He stops mid-step, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the scene—Will standing awkwardly close to you, the coffee in your hand, the faint blush still colouring his cheeks.

“Well, well, well,” James says, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “Look at Mr. Thoughtful over here! Where’s my coffee, Will?”

Will rolls his eyes, but there’s a flicker of amusement in his expression. He grabs a sugar packet from the prop table and chucks it at James’ head with surprising accuracy. “Make your own.”

James catches the packet with a grin, holding it up like a trophy. “Oh, I see how it is. Favouritism at its finest.” He waggles his eyebrows at you, and you feel your cheeks heat up.

“Shut up, James,” Will mutters, though there’s no real bite to his words. He glances at you again, his gaze softening for just a moment before he turns back to the table, pretending to inspect a mic.

You take another sip of your coffee, the warmth settling in your chest. The room feels lighter somehow, the tension from earlier easing into something more comfortable. James starts humming again, louder this time, and you can’t help but laugh under your breath.

Will looks up at the sound, his eyes meeting yours. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, the noise of the room fading into the background. Then James claps his hands, breaking the spell.

“Alright, lovebirds,” he says, grinning. “Let’s get to work.”

Will groans, running a hand through his damp hair, but you catch the way his lips twitch, like he’s trying not to smile. You shake your head, turning back to the prop table, but the warmth in your chest stays.

Filming passes in a haze of stolen glances, each one carrying a quiet weight that lingers long after he looks away. It’s not just the way his eyes find yours across the room—though that alone is enough to make your pulse quicken—but the way he seems to gravitate toward you, his presence steady and grounding amidst the usual chaos of the shoot. There’s something in the way his hand lingers on yours for a heartbeat longer than it should when you pass him a prop. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but it’s there—a quiet undercurrent that leaves you breathless and wanting more.

Later, during a lull in filming, you’re adjusting a camera angle when you feel his eyes on you. You look up, and he mouths, “You okay?” His brow is furrowed, his eyes searching yours like he’s trying to memorise the answer. You nod, offering a small smile, but the intensity of his gaze makes your stomach flip. 

James, of course, notices. He always does. Every time you and Will share a moment, no matter how small, James is there, clutching his chest and fake-swooning. “Oh, the tension!” he declares dramatically, flopping onto a nearby chair. “I can’t take it!”

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks burn. Will just shakes his head, muttering something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like, “Prat.”

Ieuan, ever the peacemaker, steps in with the next item for the video—a small, unassuming box—and shoves it into James’ hands. “Here, make yourself useful,” he says, cutting off James’ next quip. James grins, unbothered, and immediately starts inspecting the box like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen, holding it up to the camera and narrating in his best documentary voice.

“And here we have… a box,” he says, his tone overly serious. “What secrets does it hold? What mysteries lie within? Stay tuned, folks, because this is about to get epic.”

Will couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head as he turned to face James. You smile, too, though your attention keeps drifting back to Will, the way his shoulders relax when he laughs, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners.

By wrap time, your nerves are frayed. The day has been a whirlwind of emotions—Will’s lingering touches, James’ relentless teasing, the constant awareness of every glance and smile. You’re packing up your things, trying to steady your breathing, when Will appears at your elbow. His sleeve is rolled up to reveal the faint tremor in his forearm, and you can’t help but notice how close he’s standing. You could smell him. 

Is that weird?

You swallow and focus when he speaks. “Walk you out?” he asks, his voice low and a little hesitant, like he’s not sure how you’ll respond.

You look up, your heart skipping a beat at the softness in his eyes. “Sure,” you say, your voice wobbling slightly. You sling your bag over your shoulder, trying to ignore the way your hands shake as you zip it closed.

He nods, stepping back to give you space, but his gaze never leaves yours. The set is quiet now, the crew is already heading out, and the sound of your footsteps echoes in the empty space. You walk side by side, the distance between you shrinking with every step. The rain has stopped, but the air is still damp, the scent of wet pavement mixing with the faint aroma of his cologne.

You glance at him, your pulse quickening when you catch him looking at you. He smiles, a little sheepishly, and you feel a warmth spread through your chest. For the first time all day, the tension eases, replaced by a quiet, steady anticipation.

You’re halfway to the tube station when he stops under a flickering streetlamp, the amber light casting a warm glow over his face. His shoulders are tense, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as if he’s trying to steady himself. The rain has stopped, but the air is still damp, the faint scent of wet pavement mingling with the crispness of the night.

“I need to say something,” he blurts, his voice breaking the quiet between you.

Your pulse thrums, a steady rhythm that feels impossibly loud in the stillness. “Okay,” you say softly, turning to face him fully.

He runs a hand over his face, his laugh strained, almost nervous. “The kiss. Yesterday. I didn’t—I mean, I did mean it, but not… not just as your boss, or—or a friend. Christ, I’m rubbish at this.”

You step closer, your shadow merging with his under the flickering light. The space between you feels charged, electric, like the air before a storm. “Try again,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He takes a shaky breath, his eyes locked on yours, searching for something—reassurance, maybe, or courage. “I know this isn’t… professional. But I can’t stop thinking about you. Not just today—for ages.”

The world narrows to his eyes, earnest and a little scared, like he’s baring a part of himself he’s kept hidden for too long. Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his voice, the way his words hang in the air between you, fragile and raw.

“You’ve been thinking about me?” you ask, your voice trembling.

He huffs a laugh, his grin lopsided, almost self-deprecating. “James says I’m obvious. …Am I?”

You reach for his hand, your fingers trembling as they brush against his. “Only to everyone but me,” you admit, your voice soft.

His fingers intertwine with yours, warm and sure, like they were always meant to fit there. The contact sends a shiver through you, a quiet reassurance that this is real, that he’s here, that he feels it too.

“And now?” he asks, his voice low, his gaze dropping to your lips for the briefest moment before meeting your eyes again.

You rise onto your toes, your heart roaring in your ears as you close the distance between you. “Now you’re perfect,” you whisper, the words barely out before his free hand cradles your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheekbone.

The kiss starts soft—a question, a tentative exploration—until you loop your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He responds instantly, his other hand settling at your waist, anchoring you to him. The world falls away, the flickering streetlamp, the distant hum of traffic, the cool night air—none of it matters. There’s only him, the warmth of his lips, the way he smiles against yours, giddy and disbelieving, like he can’t quite believe this is happening.

When you finally part, foreheads touching, his breath mingling with yours, he whispers, “Took you long enough.”

You laugh, the sound shaky but genuine, and he grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. For a moment, you just stand there, wrapped in each other, the weight of everything unsaid finally lifting.

“I was scared,” you admit, your voice barely audible. “I didn’t want to ruin what we had.”

He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch achingly gentle. “You could never ruin this,” he says, his voice steady, certain. “You’re… you’re it for me.”

The words settle over you, warm and grounding, like the first rays of sunlight after a long night. You smile, your heart so full it feels like it might burst.

“Good,” you say, your voice teasing now. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

He laughs, the sound rich and full, and pulls you into another kiss, this one slower, deeper, like a promise. The flickering streetlamp above you hums softly, casting golden light over the two of you, as if the universe itself is smiling down on this moment.

The photo of your five-year-old self sits framed on your desk, its edges slightly worn but still vibrant with the joy of that long-ago birthday. It’s nestled now among other frames—your parents’ wedding photo, your grandparents laughing on a sunlit porch, and a new addition: a snapshot of you and Will, taken just last week.

In it, you’re both grinning, his arm slung casually over your shoulders, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters.

You smile every time you see it, the warmth of his words settling deep in your chest. It’s not just the note or the photos—it’s the way they tell a story, a quiet reminder of how far you’ve come. The family you thought you’d lost, the love you thought you’d never find again, and the man who somehow managed to give you both.

I hope people like this! And its as sweet as they'd expect! I think it's becoming really obvious that I'm a romantic...😅

[bexsbelts]

[bi-writes]

mail order bride meeting 141 for the first time 🙏

mail-order bride

he likes the way this moment sounds. it will end soon, when you both walk out the door, but for now, he sits, and he doesn't want it to end.

it's not just the sound of the television. his favorite football team has finally fucking put one into the corner of the net. the announcers cheer, but this isn't all that he hears.

the cat is in the kitchen. he can't see it, but he hears it (the little fucker). she's pawing at the cat grass that sits above the sink now. when he leans forward, he notices her little nose pushing it around before she takes a bite out of it.

she leaves the basil alone.

and then there's the sound of you. your feet in the bedroom. when you pass by the doorway, he can see you in different states of getting ready. when you pass by this time, he can see your eyeliner is on both eyes now, not just one, and your hair doesn't have clips or pieces to hold it in its style anymore. it lays perfectly now; he did a double-take when he saw it this way for the first time. you're rifling through the closet now. your clothes used to be in their own drawers. separated. socks not touching one another. your half of the closet, and his half. perfectly divided.

he doesn't remember when it happened. he found your bra under his t-shirt today. he was going through the jackets because your dresses were now between them. in the bathroom, he almost stuck your toothbrush in his mouth because they rest side-by-side in the holder.

when he looks around the room, he can't see where you begin, and he cannot see where he ends. he doesn't see where he started.

but he can see where you will go.

you bounce into the living room, holding up two hangers. there's dresses on each of them, one a dark color, the other light, and you hold them in front of simon who's still sitting on the couch, his head in his hand as he concentrates on the game (where he pretends like he hasn't been thinking about you too hard to really focus).

"simon?" you call, and he grunts, looking over at you. "which one do you like?"

he looks over the two dresses before looking at you. he hums, leaning back against the couch. he shrugs before looking back at the telly. you would look like perfection in either of them, but that isn't what you asked, and that isn't the answer you want.

"the darker one. like ya in tha' color."

you smile a little before going back into the bedroom, hanging the other dress back up and laying the other one out on the bed. you rummage through the dresser for proper undergarments, picking a soft lace pair of panties with a matching bra. you slip them on before stepping into the dress.

you reach around for the waist, and when your attempts to grab it are futile, you look over your shoulder towards the door.

"simon?" you call out gently. "could you come here, please?"

there's a shuffle of sound before simon steps into the bedroom. you point to your back, smiling at him shyly.

"c-could you help me? i can't reach the zipper."

he makes his way over to where you stand in front of the mirror. you watch as his eyes roam over your back, as he takes in the sight in front of him. you swallow as he drags a few knuckles down the length of your spine, his eyes flicking up to meet yours in the mirror before he takes the zipper in his hand and pulls it up. when he finishes, he steps a little closer, dipping his head to look at you from over your shoulder. you turn your head to look up at him, smiling.

"everything okay?" you ask softly, and he clicks his tongue, sliding his hand from its place on your back to wrap around your middle. he spreads a big palm over your tummy before dragging you backwards, your backside pressing against his front.

"mmm..." he scrunches his nose a little, running a pink tongue over his teeth. "look fuckin' beautiful."

you giggle, looking away, spreading your palms along your cheeks to try and make it less hot, less warm--fuck, it's so hot, isn't it?

you pull away to go for your shoes, picking them up from the closet. you take a seat on the bed, trying to ignore simon's stare (impossible), and you put the shoes down to slip your feet into them. just as you bend to buckle them, simon tsks, and you sit up as he kneels down in front of you.

"simon, you--"

"shut it," he mutters, reaching down and picking your foot up by the ankle gently. he wraps the strap around it, fastening the buckle, and you open your mouth to say something, but then he bends, giving your knee a soft kiss before reaching for your other foot.

your eyes meet again as he wraps it around your ankle. he smirks, just enough, and your lip wobbles a little as he fastens the next shoe before setting it back down on the floor. he puts his hands on his knee to get up, standing to his full height, and your neck strains as you try and look up at him.

at times, you feel at odds. he anticipates your needs before you even know what they are yourself. he pushes your meals in front of you just as you realize you're hungry. he helps you to the top shelf whenever you need it, picking you up from your waist without even a grunt. he feeds the cat when she cries, he wipes the tears from your face just as they fall.

you want to be more. you want to be his wife. your life is leisure and warmth, you are cared for like a fine porcelain doll, but what are you to him? what do you do for him? what is it that you bring, why are you here, why did he ever even want you if he provides and all you do is take, take, take?

the pub is alive. the lights flicker and glow a warm orange, and there's many crowds around tables, cheering and laughing and clinking pints together. you swallow as you look around; a crowded place with lots of unfamiliar faces. you freeze at the door, blinking, trying to take it all in. just as you stiffen, there's a presence right at your back.

an arm circles around your middle protectively. simon's warm hand rests at the curve of your waist, and you look up at him. he stares down at you knowingly. he's wearing his mask, obscuring his entire face except for his eyes, but you've learned to read him all the same. his hood darkens the shadows over him, but you see what he's telling you easily.

'm right 'ere.

simon moves you in front of him, walking just behind you, and he leans over to murmur in your ear as he guides you forward.

"in the corner, luv."

you barely have time to register that your husband just called you love when you see an enthusiastic wave meant for you out of the corner of your eye.

simon showed you their pictures, but the grainy selfies from his phone don't do them any justice. kyle has a pearly smile and round cheeks (troublemaker, he could get away with anything with those eyes). johnny has an infectious grin and wild curls that fall in a line down his head (a wild card, he's got eyes that you can't read and a leg bouncing from his terrible inability to sit still). and then there's john, hidden under a beanie and a rough smile (all business, all thought, because even out here, he can't stop his mind from wandering back to the papers on his desk and the cries for help he can't ignore).

johnny's smile drops a little when you come near. he eyes the hand that simon has on you, the proximity of your bodies. he raises a brow when you hold out your hand to shake, gawking when he eyes your other hand, the ring that sparkles there.

"ach, LT..." johnny swallows hard. "is this...is she--?"

simon clears his throat. "this is my wife."

"steamin' jesus," johnny breathes, leaning back in the booth. he picks up his drink and knocks back the entire thing, choking a little as he looks between the two of you. "what the fawk?!"

you blink, stepping back, and simon takes a seat beside john, shaking his head.

"fuckin' hell, johnny. behave," simon mutters. "'s not--"

"ye said y'were showin' us yer new lass," johnny quips. "not yer wife!"

you look at simon, laughing a little.

"simon, you didn't tell them you were married?"

"tha' was need t'know," simon mutters, rolling his eyes. you giggle, looking around for somewhere to sit. simon doesn't give you much time to choose--you let out a shaky breath as he picks you up from your hips, sliding you up and onto his thigh. he spreads his legs a little to accommodate you, but he's such a big man.

simon holds one hand at your back, and the other lays flat against the table. it's easy, falling into conversation with them. they don't talk about work. they're infatuated with their lieutenant and his surprise wife. they ask if he owns pajamas. they ask if he takes the mask off to sleep. they ask if simon whittles, if he listens to music, if there's a snack that puts him in a good mood (jaffa cakes, you tell johnny, who cackles with delight).

when simon gets up to have a smoke, you're surprised. simon never leaves you alone in a public place, ever. he's always at your back, even at the grocery store. he likes to take you aisle by aisle, and he doesn't care if it makes the trip longer, because he doesn't like to have you out of his sight for very long.

he gives you that look, one that you can read. you're safe with these men.

you agree. they bring simon home, every single time.

"awwww, no' gonna give yer lass a smooch, LT?" johnny winks. "'s alright, we don't care. won't think ye a big softie cuz o' it."

simon rolls his eyes, pocketing his cigarettes as he stands by the table. he dips his fingers into johnny's pint and flicks him with it before leaning over and kissing you lightly through the mask, a chaste kiss that already leaves you reeling.

you blink, caught off guard, and you blink up at simon so slowly, a syrupy smile falling over your face.

"LT, that wasnae a real one," johnny rolls his eyes. "wut, are ye scared of us?"

"shut your fuckin' mouth, sergeant, i'll make y'do laps tomorrow."

"big baby."

you watch simon take the back door, letting it swing shut behind him. you excuse yourself, following after him, pushing the door open and blinking to adjust to the dark light of the alleyway.

there's stars out. they sparkle, and you pause to stare up at them for just a moment before making your way to where simon leans against a brick wall.

it all reminds you that you're just small. not small, but smaller than simon, and compared to what stares at you across a violet sky, you are nothing but specks in time. you're drifters, composites of organic matter that somehow, for some reason, exist at the same time.

simon's eyes find your own in the dark. it's hard to see; the only light nearby flickers, and it's hard to focus, but you can see his eyes clearly, magnetized even when the rest of him seems so obscure, hiding from your view.

your smile is clear, too. the watery lines of your eyes, they glow, and when you come near, you and simon are in your own bubble, a pocket of the universe that cannot be explained. he has found you, and you have found him, and even when the night sky tries so hard to hide the things you know are there, it isn't strong enough to take away what exists in the in-between.

you slide your fingers under the hem of his mask. this kind of thing is practiced. the same thing you do when he comes home every day. the only acts of service he ever allows, the only things he ever lets you do.

you ask yourself always what it is that you provide. what it is that he sees in you that you can't seem to see in yourself.

maybe it's this. maybe it's the grounding. the gravity he never used to feel, the orbit he could never quite get himself to maintain, the taut line of connection that's been severed ever since the only people he's ever loved were ripped right out from underneath his ribs.

he puts his hands over yours when the mask is over his nose. his palms over the backs of your hands, warm skin over soft, something broken over something seeking.

"you don't want this," simon whispers, and you frown a little, shaking your head.

"how...how can you say that?"

"i'm not..." he flinches a little. "not made for this. 's not wha' y'think."

you're eyes water. you aren't sad. you're upset.

"y-you have no idea," you whisper. "i know what i want. you can always tell when i'm lying, am i lying now?"

"'s not--"

"simon," you stop him. "look at me," you sniffle, and he closes his eyes, squeezes them shut, before finding your gaze again. it's frightening, what he sees. he sees nothing that he expects. no deception. no fear. the honesty, it terrifies him. the reality of accepting what he can't understand hurts inside. it trickles deep, down to his toes, along his spine, a curdling in his stomach that he can't believe because there's no way that someone can love me when i can't fucking love myself. "am i lying now?"

"no," he breathes, and your smile is sickly sweet. he doesn't understand. he doesn't get it. nothing in his life has ever been this easy. nothing in his life has ever been just for him, all for him, just his, and no one else's. there has never been a piece of life that has ever pitied him enough to let him have it exactly as it is, and yet here she is, my perfect girl, arriving on my doorstep.

like you dropped straight from heaven. angels with soft hands and a timid face and a shadow with soft fur and big eyes and terrible little temper.

simon's hand is an anchor on the back of your head. tilting you to the side, drawing you near, until you are on your toes, and your face is canted up.

you kiss in the dark. your mouth slots over his, hands gripping the front of his jacket as you try and get even closer to him. he's a little shy at first, letting you lead while he follows, but it only takes a few seconds for you to feel his hand stiffen against your head as he kisses you feverishly.

you smile between kisses. he smiles, too. you giggle, and he huffs, and he chases you with more kisses as you cradle his face between your hands and whisper between soft presses, i'm sorry and i know and it's all i've ever wanted.

when you pull away, he doesn't let you go. he presses your forehead to his, connecting you somehow, breathing in the warmth that you radiate to try and calm the pulsing of his blood that rushes in his ears.

when your eyes open again, and you look at each other, everything is suddenly clearer. whatever he saw before, everything must have been in black and white.

he sees in color. the stars align. they fall, one by one, sparkling as they form a pattern, one undiscovered by anyone before him, one he will keep all to himself in the time that follows. when he kisses you again, he memorizes that pattern.

he knows it will always lead right back to you.

[kashverse]

it is a rite of passage for every child to have a pet, and when it is finally babykuna’s turn, sukuna—being the extra man that he is—does not just take her to a normal pet shop. no, no, no. he takes her to an exotic pet shop. because why settle for a goldfish when she could have a tarantula named missy? or maybe a snake called george? wouldn’t a scorpion be so much cooler? apparently not. because out of all the fascinating, unique, and terrifying creatures in the shop, babykuna walks past them all—ignores the lizards, dismisses the sugar gliders, doesn’t even look at the parrot that screeches a greeting at her—

and stops dead in front of a massive maine coon that is currently squished into a cage far too small for its body. the cat—fluffy, fat, and looking seconds away from sighing like a disappointed victorian orphan—locks eyes with babykuna. babykuna gasps, pressing her tiny hands against the cage. "mama! papa! it’s him!"

sukuna furrows his brows. "what?"

"him! my pet! my baby! my everything!"

you squint at the cat. it looks back at you like it’s seen some shit. "baby, are you sure?" you ask gently, glancing at the other animals. "there are so many cool options, what about—"

"NO!"

babykuna throws herself onto the ground, wailing like she’s in a period drama. sukuna jumps in alarm. "oi, oi, what the fuck, don’t start—"

before he can finish, the cat in the cage suddenly lets out a long, tragic, soul-crushing howl—as if mourning a life it never got to live.

the entire store falls silent.

"…what the fuck was that," sukuna hisses, visibly unsettled. babykuna gasps again, sitting up. "mr pickles! papa said a bad word!"

"mr…pickles?" sukuna repeats, looking at the cat like it personally offended him. "why is its name mr pickles?"

"because he is my son," babykuna says matter-of-factly, wiping away her fake tears. “and my heart knows his true name.” you press your lips together to keep from laughing. "mr pickles is a cute name, love."

"no, it’s not," sukuna grumbles, rubbing his temples. "baby, listen, papa will get you anything else, okay? you want a wolfdog? a komodo dragon? a fucking capybara?"

babykuna sobs.

"I WANT MR PICKLESSSSSSSSSS—!"

mr pickles, from inside his cage, lets out a sorrowful “AAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOHHH—”

and that is how the fourth member of the family—a fat, depressed maine coon named mr pickles—came to be. turns out, despite his tragic victorian orphan appearance, mr pickles is actually a sweetheart. not only does he fulfill his feline duties—lounging around, occasionally chasing invisible ghosts, and knocking over things just for fun—he also doubles as babykuna’s personal weighted blanket. and let’s be honest, nothing has ever knocked babykuna out quite like mr pickles’ fluffy, oversized body. 

she sleeps like a brick, snoring so loudly that you once thought a grown man had somehow broken into the house and passed out in her room. but there she was—wrapped around mr pickles like a koala, drool dripping onto his fur, dead to the world. and mr pickles? he doesn’t complain even once. in fact, he doesn’t even move. just lies there, accepting his fate, staring blankly into the void while babykuna uses him as her personal mattress. what a versatile king. in fact, mr pickles has so many roles in this household.

a cat? yes.

a weighted blanket? absolutely.

a luxury aesthetic background for your new nail set photos? oh, you better believe it.

you take a picture of your freshly done nails—perfectly manicured, sitting against the soft, plush fur of mr pickles, the perfect neutral background. you send it to sukuna. he normally loves seeing your nails, but this time—his eyebrow twitches as he recognizes the background.

sukuna: are you using that fucking cat as a backdrop again you: mr pickles is an aesthetic marvel. sukuna: i will throw that thing in the washing machine

you report him to babykuna, who screeches in betrayal and slaps his arm like she’s defending her child from a monster. but let’s be real—the best thing about mr pickles? his impeccable manners.

the moment he finishes eating from his bowl, he delicately pushes it towards the sink—like some kind of distinguished gentleman disposing of his fine china. it is so polite that you almost want to give him a little bowtie. sukuna watches this with a blank face. “i feel like i should be impressed, but i also feel like i’m being manipulated.” and maybe, just maybe, he would grow to respect this cat.

except.

mr pickles is a hater. specifically, a sukuna hater. because whenever it comes to sukuna’s belongings? suddenly, mr pickles is the menace of the household.

one night, sukuna walks into the laundry room to grab his freshly washed, neatly pressed shirts, only to find mr pickles sprawled on top of them, looking at him with such deep, sorrowful eyes that sukuna physically cannot yell at him. he stares. mr pickles blinks slowly.

"…get the fuck off."

mr pickles closes his eyes and pretends to sleep.

"GET OFF."

the very next day, sukuna screams when he finds all of his socks shredded into oblivion—like someone went berserk with a pair of scissors. babykuna gasps, pointing at mr pickles. “papa! it was mr pickles!”

sukuna whirls to glare at the culprit. "you little shit—!"

mr pickles blinks at him, looking once again like a victorian boy with consumption.

sukuna’s rage stutters.

"…you think you’re funny, huh?"

mr pickles does not reply.

(but he does later eat an entire stack of sukuna’s important business papers™ and then vomits them out on the living room carpet.)

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

When they call you clingy, so you distance yourself | Hyung Line Pt. 2

Warnings: Cursing

Pt1, Pt3 Maknaeline

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

BANGCHAN|

Chris groaned and put his head into his hands. He stared at the the screen in front of him.

8:28

He had decided to make today an early morning so he could call it an early night, but he wasn't even able to work on what he had actually intended to do because a trainee's mistake. Although he was heated in the moment he had apologized when he had run into the frightened guy in the canteen. It was an honest mistake when laptops looked exactly the same.

He had also realized that he was heated in the moment when you had come to visit him.

His fingers itched to text you an apology but he knew this was something that he needed to apologize for in person. So he shut his laptop and tucked it into his bag and decided to head home rather than starting a new project.

It was eating at his consciousness, the way he brushed you off so easily earlier just because of stress that had nothing to do with you. He reached over the couch in his studio to flick off the light.

A soft ruffling of fabric startled him slightly and he looked down to see your black coat draped over the couch of the same color.

"Its freezing." He mumbled grabbing it and quickly heading out of the building.

I was such a dick. She was so distraught she walked home in this weather without a coat.

Chris drove over to your apartment and parked haphazardly on the street. It wasn't the safest neighborhood, and a small part of him was worried about having something happen to his car, but he couldn't focus on that when he needed to focus on fixing things with you.

He pulled out his keys and found the small silver spare to your apartment.

"Baby?" Chris called out. He slipped off his shoes and he walked from the foyer into your kitchen, his black socks slipping a little on your freshly swept floors.

"Y/N?" Chris called out, flipping the light on in the kitchen. The box of trash bags was sitting on the counter and he placed them back under the sink. "Baby?"

Something was off. Chris felt it in his bones. He tried to steady his heart. Maybe you were asleep? If it wasn't to him, you tended to turn to your bed for comfort when you were sad.

He reached for your door handle out of habit of strolling into the guys room but paused to knock.

"Love?" He called out. He knocked for another minute or two, before turning the handle softly in case you were sleeping. "Baby, I don't know if your asleep but I'm coming in okay?"

Your room was empty, and the fairy lights you always kept on were off.

He flipped on the light and he felt his heart sink to his feet.

He immediately rushed out of your room and started looking through the cabinets and drawers and nooks and crannys of every other space.

Your apartment was bare minus the essentials.

In your guest room you had boxes neatly stacked in various places.

Chris felt tears crawl at his throat.

"Baby?" He tried calling out again. "Y/N this isn't funny! Say something!" He cried out.

He fumbled to grab his phone from his pocket.

His fingers shook as he called you.

The number you have dialed cannot be reached.

"No," He mumbled.

The number you have dialed cannot be reached.

The number you have dialed cannot be reached.

"No," Chris mumbled. "No," He said again.

He felt his heart jump through his throat and he couldn't breathe.

His hands were shaking as he dialed up another number.

"Oi, Chris you coming home soon-"

"Fe-Felix." He choked out. He couldn't even continue without hyperventilating. "Fe-Felix I-I can't breathe. I-I can't-"

"I'm coming to you alright? I have your location I'll be there okay? Okay just try and calm down okay? I'll be there soon." Chris could hear the jingling of keys and the slamming of the door and Minho's voice in the background as Felix panted running to the car. "Stay on the phone Channie-hyung okay, I'll be right there."

"I-I can't breathe." He cried out.

"It'll be okay, I'll be right there hyung." Felix slammed his fist down on his car horn and yelled a string of profanities as another car blared their horn in the distance as well.

By the time Felix had arrived at your house Chris was an absolute mess.

Felix was instantly able to tell what was wrong with Chan when he saw the boxes and Chan desperately trying to unpack them.

"Hey-hey Chris calm down." Felix said as he grabbed onto his hyung's shoulders.

"S-She's leaving me." He cried out. "Felix, she's leaving me. She can't leave me. My heart -my heart can't take it. I don't want-want her to leave m-me."

Felix didn't know what to do as he watched his best friend completely shatter in front of him.

"Hyung I'm sure she is-"

"I-I called her clingy. I told her to leave me alone. I don't want to be alone." He whimpered. "I didn't mean it Felix. I didn't m-mean it." He whimpered his voice cracking. "I-I was stressed and-and I yelled- I called her ob-obsess- Felix, she can't leave me. I don't want to be alone."

Felix pulled out his phone and dialed your number. "Hyung calm down I'm sure she's just angry at the moment, it'll blow over. It'll blow over." He repeated as if convincing himself as well. He chewed on the edge of his thumbnail as your phone rang. Chris was collapsed on his and Felix pet his hair.

The number you have dialed cannot be reached.

Felix looked at the broken man in front of him and swallowed.

"It'll be fine. Y/N wouldn't break up with you over something like that, right?"

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

MINHO|

"Do you really think it was necessary to yell at her?" Changbin asked as the guys were walking through the market. You had opted not to join and rather hang out with some of the girls from TWICE who were also in Paris for the same event the Kids had came for. The only problem was you had opted to do that for the entire week. You all were flying home tomorrow and Minho hadn't seen more than a glimpse of you other than a few pictures the girls had posted on their fake accounts, and the few pictures you had posted on your private account.

"Why would it not be necessary?" Minho asked.

"Because you're pissed at something that wasn't even her fault." The shorter male said and he picked up a random little trinket to look at, it was a little heavy so he used it as a makeshift dumbell for a second.

"Ya, she quite literally ruined my entire plan."

Changbin looked at Minho like he had grown a second head. "How the hell was she supposed to know you were trying to propose to her?!"

Minho pursed his lips and turned away and started walking.

Changbin moved his tiny legs to catch up with the cat eyed member.

Felix crossed paths with them and joined the conversation.

"Minho-Hyung you've been miserable all week. Just swallow your pride and apologize."

"I have nothing to apologize fo-"

"Ya! No offense Hyung but you're being a fucking idiot!" Felix said. The two Hyungs of Felix recoiled and looked at the sunshiny Aussie. "Sorry for my tone Hyung but it's true. All she wanted to do was spend time with you because she loves you. And to her it seems like you got upset because you didn't to spend time with you. And you got upset with her because you planned a super elaborate and flamboyant proposal because you love her and you weren't able to execute it. So basically, you are both pissed at each other because you love each other more than anything in this world. So tell me how that makes sense at all?"

Changbin nodded. "He's not wrong at all you're kind of an idiot."

Minho sighed and pouted.

"Which means you need to be the one to apologize because Y/N-ie actually has reason to be mad."

Minho's pout became even more noticeable.

Ugh...apologizing.

Felix seemed to read his elder's mind.

"Its either apologize or ruin your relationship. While it is super easy to replan a propsal, it sure as hell won't be able to replan your future if she walks out on you."

Minho felt that hit his heart hard, but still wanted to be stubborn. "What do you mean easy to replan a proposal? I spent months planning the one I intended to do."

Changbin rolled his eyes. "Ya! Y/N might be your girlfriend but you seem to forget she was all of our friend first. And I sure as hell know she would not care how you proposed to her. Even if you just did it the traditional and plain way of getting down on one knee and saying 'Y/N...will you marry me?" Changbin said mimicking Minho's voice.

Felix shook his head. "No it'd be more like 'Y/N marry me. You have no choice."

"No- 'Y/N, my cats need a mom. You are now their mom.'"

"'Y/N, our wedding is next Friday. Don't be late. Wear white." The happy boy mimicked with a deadpan face.

Changbin and Felix's antics were the thing that made Minho laugh all week. And the levity he felt now was what he felt with you always. And that made the absence of you hit him even harder.

"Can we go back to the hotel? I want- no I need to apologize." He said suddenly.

Changbin sputtered. "Never thought I'd hear that come out of your mouth ever."

Minho playfully shoved Changbin into Felix as they headed back in the direction of the hotel.

"So how do you think you'll propos-"

"Minho-ssi!" The guys stopped and they noticed Chaeyoung running towards them.

Minho felt his heart dip for a second. "What is it?"

"I-I went to get Y/N-ie for a girls night out but she wasn't in her room so I figured maybe she just stepped out to the convenience store with Tzuyu or Momo but she wasn't with them when they came back and Tzuyu said the last time she saw her was this morning after we had brunch." Chaeyoung tried to steady her voice. "And I called her but my calls aren't going throu-"

Minho didn't give Chaeyoung time to finish before he started running.

He didn't know where he was going, he didn't even really know where to find you.

All he knew is that he had to.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

CHANGBIN|

"Y/N." Changbin said. "Jagiya!" You ignored Changbin as you walked into your apartment.

He followed ensuite and was pouting. "Jagiya please talk to me. It's been three weeks."

"Mmmm. Nah. I don't feel like being clingy today." You said as you set your purse down and headed towards your bedroom.

"C'mon please? It was a stupid argument. I'm sorry. I was just upset."

"Hmm. And I'm upset right now too." You said as you started digging through your closest. You pulled out a cute yet sleek dress.

The same dress you had worn on your first date with Changbin oh so long ago.

"Babe?" Changbin asked as he saw you rummage through things on your vanity.

"Red or Pink?" You asked allowed. "Or I guess the question is should I do a matte red or a glossy red?" You turned to Changbin and gave an innocent look at him. "I don't know which one makes me look better."

"Stop that! Thats not funny. At all." Changbin said as he followed you into the bathroom. He stayed planted in the same spot even as you changed, shutting his eyes respectfully until you finished changing.

"Where are you going? Why are you getting dressed up."

You pulled your hair out of the braided updo you had it in and let it fall over your shoulders in a beautiful mix of loose curls and evem looser waves.

Changbin couldn't help but admire just how beautiful you looked right now. Matter of fact you always looked beautiful, but Changbin couldn't help but stare. Since this was the longest he had seen you in the past three weeks.

And seeing you get ready and dolled up worried him. It sparked a jealousy in him that he found himself all too familiar with these past few weeks. It was partly the reason he had snapped at you in the first place.

He had thought it was just a stupid argument but right now it seemed like it was so much more than that.

And it was slowly killing him. Had he really hurt you that bad?

"Jagiya where are you going?"

You ignored Changbin as you touched up your makeup slightly, wiping off the clear gloss you had and favoring a glossy red lip instead. You grabbed your favorite perfume - and Changbin's favorite on you - and sprayed it delicately over yourself.

You looked at your watch and looked up at Changbin. "I have to go I'm meeting someone at five."

You grabbed your purse and Changbin grabbed your wrist.

"W-What do you mean you're meeting someone?" You snatched your wrist away from him gently and made your way towards your car.

"W-Wait Y/N it's not a date is it? You're not going on a date? Wait please tell me you aren't."

"Changbin I have to go. It would be a bad first impression if I was late."

"Can you please at least tell me where you are going?"

You huffed. "I'm going to that one coffee shop next to the karaoke bar? The one we always used to go to when you had first asked me out." You said as you were strapping on a pair of heels.

Changbin felt like his world was collapsing.

"No. We aren't breaking up you're not allowed to do that."

You looked at Changbin with a confused - what the fuck are you on - type look.

"Changbin you realize people have the free will to do whatever they want right? Thats like me telling you you're not allowed to go to the gym anymore."

"You're not breaking up with me Y/N." He said his voice starting to waver. "You can't."

"Yup, Bin." You said as you opened the door and walked to your car. "Lock the door behind you, would ya?" You called out over your shoulder.

The muscular man quickly locked your door and came to the drivers side.

"Y/N," He said tapping on your window.

"Changbin can you make this quick? Like I said being late is a bad first impression."

"Who cares about first impressions! Y/N you can't date someone else!" He cries. "It was an argument! Are you really breaking up with me over this-"

"Damn Changbin I'm no-" Your phones started to ring and you answered it.

Changbin pouted at you as you spoke. Trying his best to listen to the conversation.

"Hello..." Why'd she say hello like that? So nicely... "Yes, I'm on my way right now just leaving my house..." She's already on the stage of letting him know her whereabouts? "Haha no no of course not...yeah....haha!" What could he possibly be saying to make her laugh that much? Only I can make her laugh like that...well I guess Jisung too but mainly me! "Uh I'll just get an iced vanilla latte with all my modifications- just ask Jiwon she'll know...." They have mutuals? "Yeah I'll be there soon....Yep! Can't wait to meet you either...mkay bye!"

Changbin felt his heart constrict as he watched you hang up and start your car.

You gave Changbin a small wave and pulled off, your tires screeching a little as you drove.

He quickly went to follow you. You wouldn't leave him. He wouldn't let you. Because you meant the world to him.

And without his world he would be nothing.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

HYUNJIN|

It had been a few days since Hyunjin had felt like he had spent time with you.

Because while you had been in his presence physically he felt like you had something on your mind.

You weren't all up on him like you usually were. And he missed that. He also missed you asking him if he liked your outfits. He missed the little twirl you would do asking if you looked okay; he missed being able to look at you lovingly while you did so; he missed being able to wait a little bit before he could comment how striking you looked; that little pause in time just to assure that he would be the one who could see you in that specific outfit longer than anyone else you would run into or hang out with, even if it was mere seconds more.

The way every part of you took up every aspect of his life was something he was so used to that he longed for it when he couldn't have it.

And for the past eleven days he longed for it.

So bad.

He missed you.

"Do you think I did something wrong?" Hyunjin asked Jisung as they sat down enjoying a cup of coffee together.

"I'm assuming so because she's treating me just fine. We actually just went to the movies the other day. Some random guy tried to hit on her and she made a comment about his hairline and how it showed his age and that shut him down real quick. It was actually fucking hilarious the way-"

"Did she say anything about me upsetting her?" Hyunjin asked, interuppting Jisung's tangent about his trip with the most loved girl of the band.

"Mm...now that I think about it, she made a comment about some other idol. I forget who she was talking about but I remembered her saying you were talking to them because she was just standing there waiting for you to finish and thats why she decided to drink that one drink. Because she didn't want to...how did she put it...look pathetic? Yeah, I think thats what she said. And she said it was no use because she looked pathetic throwing up all over Bangchan." He took a sip of his coffee. "I actually thought it was funny because Chan was saying he was trying to find an excuse to not have to wear that one suit jacket anymore because it was-"

"Jisung you're getting off topic." Hyunjin sighed. "Did she seem upset when she said that?"

Jisung shook his head. "I wouldn't say she seemed upset when she was talking about finding a use for her hands. I think she looked...off afterwards though. Especially whenever your name came up in ocnversation." He looked at Hyunjin pointedly. "But that wasn't that often. She may be your girlfriend but she is my soulmate so we have our own issues to discuss." He said taking another sip of his coffee. "Like all the drama in Hybe right now. Did you see- wait I'm getting off topic."

Hyunjin frowned. "So it was something I did..." He mumbled.

Jisung sniffed once. "Yeah probably." He said scratching his ear. "I can ask her if you'd like me to."

"No I thinks it okay, I'll find time to talk to her."

"Well they say there is no better time than the present because look who just walked in." The chubby cheeked boy nodded his head somewhere behind Hyunjin.

He turned around and saw you walking in with Felix. You walked up to the counter but didn't notice Hyunjin or Jisung sitting there.

Felix greeted the barista and ordered himself a drink while you looked at the menu.

Hyunjin felt the tiniest - the most miniscule pang of jealousy but it was quickly washed away because he knew that you only had eyes for him. You guys hadn't celebrated your first anniversary yet - it was in four days -but he knew just how much you loved him and he loved you.

And just that - he knew how in love you were with each other.

And thats why it hurt him so much to think he had hurt you.

Felix finished ordering and turned to you. Hyunjin had expected you to tell him your order and for Felix to relay it back to the barista but instead you spoke in Korean - hesitantly - but still with an immense amount of effort and obvious intermediate skill.

Felix corrected you on a couple of words, but after a few motivational words from the barista - words you obviously understood - you shined a bright smile and laughed.

"Y/N doesn't speak Korean." Hyunjin turned to Jisung, and the small quokka like boy pouted slightly. "Jisung."

"I walked in on Y/N-ie and Felix-" He blurted out. "God, I've been keeping that secret so long." He let out a breath and looked at Hyunjin's shocked face.

"Walked...in...?"

Jisung put a hand to his forehead. "Sorry I didn't finish my thought. I meant that I like...walked in on them while he was giving her secret korean lessons." He said wiggling his eyebrows.

"Jisung you're not helping my paranoia."

"I was wiggling my eyebrows because of the reason. She said she wanted to learn Korean so when it came time to meet your family she would be able to communicate well with them. It seems like she's actually pretty damn good at it too. Shes a fast learner according to Felix."

Hyunjin groaned. "She's so fucking cute but of all people in our groups she decided to get lessons from Lix? Did she never watch the survival show." He chuckled.

"Yeah...I guess that means I can tell you the actual reason she's upset with you now right?" Jisung said.

Hyunjin's head shot up and he looked at the younger boy expectantly.

"She overheard you calling her clingy. With the idol and his girlfriend..." He looked down and his voice dropped a little. "Its been eating at her a lot. Especially the girl's comment about foreigners and stuff. She was a total bitch for saying that because now it's been making her rethink everything. Because she seems to be convinced that it would be best for your reputation and your future if she ended things with you."

Hyunjin felt his throat constrict slightly. "S-she didn't mean that. She doesn't mean that. She can't."

Jisung hmmed in acknowledgment. "Hyung...she has it rough you know? The pedestal people in our industry put you on - and even in other industries and other countries -is the pedestal you're put on by the same people she consistently is surrounded by when accompanying you. The same people who write all those hateful comments about her on your posts and send even more hateful comments to her private account."

Hyunjin's eyes widened, and his fingers twitched slightly. "What comments? She hasn't told me about any...hate...comments..."

Jisung sighed. "She doesn't want to worry you. And I think she believes those comments too...she can't think of anything else to believe."

Hyunjin felt a knot place itself in his throat to stay as he walked you watch out the coffee shop with Felix trailing you. The thought of your insecurities bothered him immensely. The thought of you thinking you weren't worthy of him when it was the complete opposite; when it was him who wasn't worthy of you. He wished you could see yourself the way he saw you.

And he wished you believed him when he said all the things said.

Believe me when I call you beautiful. When I say I love you...

And if you don't want to in me...

Believe in us.

[luveline]

spencer x reader where she kisses his forehead and he’s 🥹🥹

“Spencer, are you dead?” 

Spencer ignores your question by accident. Heavy head in hand, he’s slowly sinking closer and closer to the hotel breakfast table to rest. His neck twinges with the effort it takes to stay up. 

“Spencer,” you say more sharply. 

His eyes track like the air is honey. He settles on your sluggishly while offering no greeting, tiredness pulling at him. “My eyes hurt,” he offers. 

“Make you some tea.” 

“Um, okay.” He’s disappointed when you leave, then dozing, face pressed to his desk as itchy eyes press along lids. It feels as though his eyelashes have turned inward. 

You return with a cup. Spencer grabs it blindly, lifts his head to squint one eye open. “What?” he asks. 

There isn’t tea in the cup. There are tea bags, two of them, wetted and leaking tan beige along the white china of the mug. Distinctly no tea. You must be tired too. 

“They’re for your eyes, Spence. They’ll make your eyes hurt less. The caffeine restricts your blood vessels to calm the inflammation, and the tea itself soothes sore skin.” 

“How do you know that?” he asks. 

You rest a hand on his shoulder. “I read about it in a book of modern home remedies. It really works. Here, can you tip your head back?” 

Spencer is very, very tired, but your voice is nice, your fingertips gentle against his neck, so he tips his head back. He doesn’t know how terrible he looks, having forgotten his untucked shirt, his rumpled sweater vest, his hair sticking up all over the place. 

“Close your eyes,” you murmur. 

Spencer shuts them. 

“It’s cold,” you warn, “but it’ll feel nice.” 

Spencer doesn’t care. He waits for you to move. The tea bags you place on his closed eyes feel cold and at first they sting just a touch, perhaps tea finding its way through his lashes, and he can’t confess to noticing a difference in soreness. 

“Hey… what’s this? It looks like it hurts?” you ask, drawing a short line over the side of the bridge of his nose. There’s an indent there that feels like a bruise.

“I fell asleep at my desk with my glasses on,” he says. “They dug in.” 

“You were up late, I’m guessing. Maybe you should go back to the room.” 

“No, I can’t. I’ll be okay. Thank you for the… tea.” 

Your hand rests tentatively against his cheek. He can’t open his eyes to see what you're feeling, and he doesn’t need to. There’s emotion to be felt in your slow strokes, how your thumb rests along his jaw as your nail scratches to the top of his ear, then behind the shell of it. It’s intimate enough to summon a different kind of tiredness. Exhaustion swapped for content. He could sleep in the curve of your palm all day. 

“You’re welcome,” you say. “I’m gonna take them off for a second to check the damage.” 

You take them. Your breath draws near. 

A warmth presses to his forehead atop his left eyebrow. Spencer doesn’t know what it is until your nose graces just above it, and your lips part —it’s a kiss. You’re kissing him sweetly, your fingers sewing through his hair. 

He peels his sore eyes open to look at you. You lean back as unhurried as you’d ferried forward, your hand cradling the nape of his neck. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask. 

Spencer stares up at you. In that moment, tired, aching, and balmed, he’s completely in love with you. You must see a little of it, your lips parting again in an unnamed emotion. It’s sheer luck that you’re the only one awake with him, because if any of his teammates saw the way he was looking at you they’d never let him forget it. And, he gets to see your reaction. Your partial smile. 

“Did that help?” you ask. 

You must mean the tea. “I feel better.” 

“Yeah? Do you…” Your voice turns to cashmere, a thread of bemusement tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Would another one be okay?” 

Spencer can only nod as you wrap your arms around him and position your mouth at the soft skin where his hair meets his forehead. When you kiss him again, his eyes flutter shut. 

“You really need some help with your insomnia,” you murmur. 

Spencer wonders if maybe you’d want to be that help. You must have melatonin in your kisses.

[hyunebunx]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ⏖ ' late night moments with skz !

⁺ 𖹭 . genre: this is just sleepy fluff <3 some of the boys get kind of emotional.

⁺ 𖹭 . a/n: happy binnie day!! <3 to this day, these are some of my favorite hcs i've ever written so i hope you enjoy! (early morning moments with them right here <3)

𝜗୧ chan 𝜗୧ - 2:34 am

“Do you think Berry misses me sometimes?” He mumbles into your lap, voice full of sleep as you gently massage his scalp. Looking down at him, your eyes soften when he hugs your middle and hides his face in your stomach which prompts your other hand to begin tracing his features softly.

“Of course, she does, baby.” Chan almost purrs in response and your heart melts at the sight, managing to contain the sudden urge to squish his cheeks together. “Remember how excited she was the last time you visited? She was jumping, running around you and never left your side the whole time you were there.”

A moment passes and then two with no response from your boyfriend and that’s when you realize, by his even breathing, that he finally fell asleep.

You smile and lean down to plant a sweet kiss on his forehead, whispering a sincere I love you in his ear, not stopping your massage.

Sleeps like this, in your lap, until you’re sure he’s asleep for good before you slowly move him into a more comfortable position and wrap his whole body in a blanket burrito.

𝜗୧ minho 𝜗୧ - 11:59 pm

“Hug me, I’m cold!”

You hear him groan before he turns over to face you, grumbling under his breath as he envelopes your body in a big hug and begins to squeeze the life out of you. All out of love, of course.

“Better now?” “Minho, I can’t breathe!”

Doesn’t let go but does tilt your head up to look into your eyes and the love you see as you stare back almost has you in tears. A sleepy smile makes its way onto his lips and that’s when you manage to loosen his grip by wiggling into his arms, wasting no time as you begin to plant open-mouthed kisses all over his face.

His smile widens until giggles escape him, loving the way your lips feel on his skin as he lets you do whatever you want until you’re satisfied. When you finally reach his lips but don’t linger for as long as he’d like, instead kissing them repeatedly while also giggling, he takes matters into his own hands and kisses you deeply while still keeping the initial softness of your previous ones.

𝜗୧ changbin 𝜗୧ - 3:47 am

You toss and turn in the sheets for what feels like the millionth time before finally giving up with a frustrated sigh. “Binnie, I can’t sleep.”

“Me neither.” The response comes instantly and you sit up on your elbows to find him staring at the ceiling, visibly exhausted. You frown, scooting closer to hug him by the middle and rest your chin on his chest.

“Everything okay?”

Your soft voice prompts him to let it all out, to rant about work and his daily struggles at a fast pace that you can barely keep up with. When his voice quivers, you look up and plant comforting kisses on his neck and jaw, one hand gently massaging his chest through his nightshirt.

When he’s done and his speech slows down, Changbin moves to hide his face in your hair, muscular arms wrapping around your body to bring you closer, almost like he wanted to morph your bodies together. Being one with the love of your life sounded great right now – to be able to take all of his pain and discomfort so that he’ll always be happy and healthy was something you dreamt about often. Unfortunately, until that was possible, you hoped from the bottom of your heart that what you’re able to do right now is enough.

𝜗୧ hyunjin 𝜗୧ - 1:08 am

“Forget worms, would you still love me if I was a deadly shark?”

Hyunjin looks up from his phone, flabbergasted, just to find you already looking at him. He’s silent, waiting for you to elaborate but when you don’t, he sighs and gives in. “Darling, what the hell are you talking about?”

You roll your eyes, cuddling closer as you place your head in the crock of his neck to inhale his comforting scent. His arms pull you closer instantly, phone long forgotten. “This hypothetical situation, Jinnie, is critical for our relationship. Please take it seriously.”

Is confused the whole time as you ramble on and on about your ‘hypothetical situation’ that at some point, having had enough, he just turns his back to you and gets comfortable on his other side.

When you follow him and throw a leg over his body, continuing on while drawing patterns onto his back, he swiftly turns around to hover over you, pinning you to the mattress. Your eyes meet and for a second, you think he’s going to kiss you until your dream is shattered as he begins tickling you mercilessly instead. A tickle war starts that leaves you both breathless and laughing well into the night.

𝜗୧ jisung 𝜗୧ - 1:56 am

“When you’re away and I miss you, I spray this pillow with your cologne and cuddle it as I would cuddle you.”

Jisung’s eyes widen slightly as you speak against his lips, the lingering sadness in your tone pulling at his heartstrings in an unpleasant way. You’re face to face, staring lovingly at each other while talking in hushed voices about everything that comes to mind.

He knows that at this time during the night, he gets all soft and mushy but he wasn’t expecting to cry this soon. You were so good to him, his own angel on earth that would wait for him for as long as it was needed. You deserved so much better.

Gently cupping your cheek, you lean into his touch and close your eyes in contentment, and he bites his tongue to stop himself from crying. “I’m sorry, baby.”

His voice is shaky so without a word, you cuddle closer, burying your head in his chest and holding him tighter while also kissing his covered chest. “Sorry? Sorry for what? Don’t be silly, Ji. Your love makes all this waiting around worth it every single time.”

𝜗୧ felix 𝜗୧ - 4:02 am

“Wait, what? She said that to you?” Felix asks, voice loud in disbelief as the hand that was combing through your hair stops momentarily.

You nod, looking up at him from where you’re resting your head, on his abs, the bare skin warm and soft under your touch. “Yes! I have receipts, hold on.”

As you scramble out of bed to get your phone from where it's charging, Felix can’t help but smile as his eyes are completely focused on you and nothing else. He always thought you were the most beautiful like this – bare-faced, with your hair slightly messy and missing that furrow between your brows that appeared during the day.

Vulnerable and oh-so cuddly during the late hours of the night, and early hours of the morning you sometimes spent with him, talking, kissing and laughing until the sun rose again to announce another new day.

When you came back to bed, Felix was resting with his back against the headboard and the position allowed him to pull you flush against his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind as you showed him your phone. It was the domesticity he always craved for which he hoped would never end. That you and him like this never ended.

𝜗୧ seungmin 𝜗୧ - 12:32 am

Taking another peek at the bedside clock, you can’t help but sigh as the red digits glare at you, almost mockingly. You’ve been in bed for hours now and you’re still as awake as you were back then too. It was infuriating, and you were this close to actually crying in frustration.

Almost as if sensing your low mood, Seungmin turns on his side to face you. “Everything okay?”

You shake your head and bury your head in the warm pillow. “I can’t sleep, Minnie. Will you sing to me, please?”

His arms come around you to bring your back to his chest, successfully luring you into being the little spoon, which to be honest, you didn’t mind one bit right now. He places a kiss on your cheek, and with one hand softly massaging your hip, he starts humming. Not a lullaby, but one of the group’s title tracks.

When you glare at him over your shoulder, he grins and stifles a chuckle before starting to sing a proper lullaby. Just as suspected – his dreamy voice does have magical powers and you’re asleep in less than five minutes. Or maybe it's the way he holds you so closely and the occasional kiss on the top of your head that does the trick. Either way, you have to let Felix know asap. He owes you 20$.

𝜗୧ jeongin 𝜗୧ - 11:45 pm

“Blanket thief.” He complains, however, there’s no real malice in his tone as you roll around into a blanket burrito and leave him completely exposed to all the monsters that come out at night, laughing loudly.

You don’t see him, but he rolls his eyes, trying to appear annoyed as he hides his growing smile. “Come here, baby, let’s share.”

When you shake your head no, still giggling in your pillow, Jeongin takes matters into his own hands, literally, and lifts you up by the waist to trap you into his tight embrace, which causes you to shriek and laugh again. He soon joins in and your laughter fills the tiny room as you begin wrestling for the blanket.

“Come on, be reasonable, there’s enough blanket for the both of us.” “No.” “Y/n.” “But Jeongin, the monsters – “ ,“I’ll beat them up! Now, come here!”

Somehow, he manages to convince you to share and you fall asleep cuddling while watching youtube videos, with his soft voice whispering sweet nothings into your ear. But during the night, he still ends up uncovered and because he’s petty, he pretends to fall out of bed and says that the monsters got to him because of you and your selfish nature he can’t help but still love so much!

[hoshifighting]

like what if yn is tired just arrived home from work and cheol is on the couch, legs stretched watching tv. then yn changes to little shorts n sit between his legs, yn's back on his chest. little cuddles and then his hand slowly reaches her 😼 little no's or stops from yn but ofc she actually dont want him to stop. THAN HE LOCKS HER LEGS WITH HIS LEGS AND OPEN THEM MORE AND KEEP GOING

bf!cheol taking care of you after work as you sit between his legs

WARNINGS: smut, fingering, dirty talk, body fluids (cum), a bulge pressed against reader's ass 😇

it’s been a day. work was hell, people were annoying, and honestly, the second you got home, you were ready to faceplant on your bed and not move for the next 12 business days. except you walk into the living room, and there he is—choi seungcheol. stretched out on the couch like he’s got no worries in the world, one arm lazily thrown over the backrest, legs spread. he’s flipping through channels with that casual “i’m hot and i know it” energy that makes you roll your eyes even as your chest does that stupid fluttery thing.

“hey, baby,” he calls, barely looking up, but the smile tugging at his lips is soft. inviting.

“hey,” you mumble back, kicking off your shoes and tossing your bag somewhere in the vicinity of the door because you’re too tired to care. you trudge off to change, throwing on one of those little pairs of shorts you know he likes (and, let’s be real, you also like how they make your ass look).

when you wander back into the living room, he’s still there, scrolling through Netflix now, like he’s trying to find something he hasn’t already seen ten times. you flop down between his legs, leaning back against his chest with a tired sigh, and he immediately wraps his arms around you.

“rough day?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“you have no idea,” you mumble, closing your eyes as his warmth surrounds you.

he hums, his chin resting on your shoulder, and you feel his hands slowly start to wander. it’s innocent at first, his fingers tracing little patterns on your thighs, but then one of his hands starts sliding up.

“cheol,” you say softly, not even looking up.

“hmm?” he replies, his voice all sweet and casual, like he’s not already halfway to breaking the unspoken no-touchy rule you’ve set for nights like this.

“don’t,” you mumble, but there’s no heat behind it, and you both know it.

his hand pauses for like, half a second before continuing its journey. his fingers sneak under the hem of your shorts, brushing against the bare skin beneath. you squirm a little, your legs pressing together instinctively, but all that does is trap his hand where it is.

“you’re not stopping me,” he teases, his voice low in your ear, and you feel his smirk more than you see it.

“cheol, seriously—”

and then he moves. his legs come up, wrapping around yours and locking them in place, spreading you open in a way that makes you gasp.

“cheol!”

“what?” he says, feigning innocence as his fingers dip between your legs, finding exactly what he’s looking for. “you’re not stopping me,” he repeats, his tone teasing but firm, like he knows he’s got you right where he wants you.

your breath hitches as his fingers start to move, tracing over the thin fabric of your shorts like he’s testing how far he can push you. you let out a shaky little “stop,” but it’s half-hearted at best, and you’re pretty sure he knows it.

“stop?” he echoes, his voice dripping sweetness. “you don’t sound like you want me to stop.”

“i do,” you tease weakly, but the way your hips tilt up to meet his hand completely betrays you.

“sure you do,” he murmurs, his fingers slipping under the waistband of your shorts now, brushing against your bare skin. “you’re so convincing, baby.”

you let out a soft whimper as he finds your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to make your head fall back against his shoulder.

“cheol—”

“shh,” he soothes, his lips brushing against your ear. “just let me take care of you, okay? you’ve had a long day. you deserve this.”

your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan low in your ear, the sound shooting straight to your core. your lips hover near his ear, and you gasp when his fingers slide inside you, the wet, obscene noises filling the space between your breaths.

schlk—schlk—schlk

every slide is unrelenting, curling and hitting that spot, making tears flood your eyes. his cock is rock hard, pressing right against your ass, and you can feel him twitch through the fabric of his sweats.

“fuck, baby, squeezing my fingers like this. you missed me, hm?”

you let out a choked moan, your hips tilting to meet his thrusts, but he keeps you pinned, his legs still locking yours open.

“you’re dripping all over my hand...listen,”

your back arches further, your face finding his neck as your cheeks flush with embarassment, his free hand snakes up to cup your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

“you wanna cum? hm? answer me,” he taunts, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “i can feel it, the way you’re clenching. but i don’t know if you deserve it yet.”

“cheol—!”

“hmm?” he hums, adding another finger, making your walls flutter around him. “use your words, baby. beg for it. tell me how bad you need me to make you come.”

you shake your head, too stubborn to give him the satisfaction, but then he shifts his hand, his thumb pressing against your clit just right, and you unravel.

“please!” you gasp, your voice cracking as your nails dig into his scalp.

“that’s my girl,” he growls, his hips rocking against you, his cock throbbing against your ass like he’s holding back just as much as you are.

his fingers work you faster, the wet noises getting louder, more vulgar, and your moans turn into broken cries. “such a good girl,” he coos, though his tone is still dripping with teasing. “but fuck, you’re so easy to ruin, aren’t you? just a little fingering, and you’re falling apart on me.”

his words push you closer, every filthy syllable lighting you up, until your body tenses and you cum around his fingers, the schelching present until you melt on his chest.

“that’s it, my baby...make a mess for me. let me feel you.”

and you do, your nails raking down his forearm as he praises you for working so hard.