#not even joking when i say that one of the things i have planned involves sonic getting a pet goose

[sonicboomseason3]

🪿💥🥞 , Sonic and Tails?

ask game: send me AT LEAST 3 emojis (the more random the better) and AT LEAST 2 characters from sonic boom and i’ll come up with a little drabble in response!

"Sonic!"

Lying on one of the lounge chairs in front of his shack, Sonic looks up from his pancakes at the sound of Tails' voice and promptly spots him running towards him. "'Sup?" he asks as the fox skids to a stop in front of him.

"Behold, the Explodinator 5000!" Tails announces, brandishing his newest creation in his hand. It appears to be some kind of mechanical headband, complete with an antenna protruding from the top. "By putting this on, the wearer can make any desired target explode."

"Huh." Sonic looks back down at his pancakes. "Explode, like BOOM?" He tries to stab his downright stale pancakes with his plastic fork and lets out a frustrated sigh when he only succeeds in bending the tines.

"Explode, like BOOM! Do you have any idea how much this will help us in our battles with Eggman? I can just point this at his robots and reduce them to smithereens!" Tails finally takes his eyes off of the Explodinator 5000 to look at Sonic. "It isn't limited to just his robots either—Sonic, what is that."

"Pancakes," Sonic replies blandly, gesturing towards his plate in much the same way as Tails was doing moments ago with his invention. "Meh Pancakes, actually. Meh Burger's experimenting with the idea of a breakfast menu, and—"

"I'm talking about the giant bird."

"Oh." Sonic glances over at his other lounge chair, which is currently occupied by a giant white goose. "His name's Bruce. Bruce, meet Tails. Tails, meet Bruce."

"Hi," Tails greets stiffly.

Bruce honks.

Sonic begins to explain, "Bruce wandered into my shack this morning and climbed on top of me and woke me up with his goose noises—by the way, not the best way to start the day, don't really recommend it—and I couldn't chase him out, so..." He makes eye contact with Bruce and reaches over to scratch his head like one would do to a dog. "He's my pet now, I guess. Or at least he is until he decides to leave, whenever that'll be."

"And you're sure this isn't gonna just be another Buster incident?"

"Buster was a robot that shot slime. Bruce is a real goose. Trust me, I checked already."

"I don't think I wanna know how you did that, but that's good at least." Tails can't help but wince a little when Bruce honks again. "Just... make sure you know how to take care of him."

"Pretty sure he's wild, so he should know how to take care of himself—Hands off." When Bruce suddenly leans forward and tries to take a bite of Meh Pancakes, Sonic pushes him away a little more roughly than necessary. "They're mine. And believe me when I say you're really better off never having these."

Bruce's responding honk sounds downright enraged at being refused subpar breakfast food, but Tails is ready to dismiss it as simply his imagination... until Bruce suddenly lunges for him. He yelps and instinctively holds his hands out in front of him to protect himself, but instead of attacking him, Bruce snatches the Explodinator 5000 out of his grasp with his beak. Before either hero can digest what is unfolding, the goose tosses the headband into the air, and it lands squarely on his head.

"What the—" Still holding his pancakes, Sonic rolls out of his lounge chair in the nick of time. He barely registers the tiny explosion that goes off right above him, only fully realizing what's happening when he feels the charred bits of the back of his lounge chair rain down on him.

"Sonic, he's trying to explode you with his mind!" Tails says, horrified. "I really think you should give him the—"

Sonic leaps to his feet, still keeping a tight clutch on those accursed pancakes. "Bruce the Goose, you put that dangerous thing down right now!" Honestly, he sounds more like he's trying to get a small dog to spit something out and less like he's defending himself from a wild bird out for his blood. "I said put it down!"

Bruce honks, and Sonic dodges three more explosion attempts within the next five seconds.

"Pets," he grumbles at Tails. "Word of advice: If you ever think about getting a pet yourself, get a gerbil or something."

And then he dashes off. With the pancakes.

Bruce honks the loudest honk he's honked so far and takes to the skies to give chase, leaving Tails by his lonesome.

Tails stands silently for a moment before sighing wearily and pulling his notepad and pencil out. Flipping to the appropriate page, he quickly skims the notes he already has written. "'Explodinator 5000 - Status: Complete. Testing: Successful. Field Results:—'" He jots down the most recent update. "'—Stolen by a goose determined to cause a Sonic BOOM.' Huh. Wonder when I'll learn my lesson to not invent things that'll endanger my friends."

He ponders that thought for a moment before shrugging.

"Oh well, back to the workshop. Been meaning to work on that one invention that throws knives at everything within three feet of it anyway."

[ilovolderman]

Friday Night

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You end up sitting next to Bucky in a casual team dinner.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating, flirting, light language, water war (because who can resist a splash battle?)

A/N: this is part 4 of "You Said What?", just some fluff in a universe where you and Bucky secretly date. It can be read on its own and doesn't necessarily follow a specific order, but if you want to check out the other parts, here they are: part 1, part 2, part 3. im loving writing about these two so thanks for reading, i hope you like it :)

It’s one of those rare nights at the compound, no missions, no briefings, no surprise alien invasions. Just a Friday. Just dinner. And, somehow, Steve decided it’d be nice if the whole team ate together like one big weird family.

The long table is already half full when you show up a few minutes late, sliding into the only empty seat left, next to Bucky, obviously by coincidence. Totally random. Totally not planned. Totally a miracle.

“Hey,” you murmur, your knee bumping his under the table. You don’t move it.

“Hey,” he says back, low and warm, like it’s just for you. His knee nudges yours in return, the tiniest pressure that somehow makes your chest feel full.

Dinner is loud. Sam’s in the middle of a dramatic story involving a rooftop and a rogue pizza slice, gesturing so wildly he nearly knocks over his drink twice. Wanda is laughing so hard she’s wheezing. Clint and Natasha are arguing about spice levels in the curry. Tony ordered five different desserts “just in case,” and even Vision looks mildly amused.

It’s chaotic. It’s weirdly cozy. And it’s perfect.

Meanwhile, Bucky quietly slides the breadbasket your way before you even ask. Passes you a napkin when you drop yours. Leans over and murmurs a dumb joke under his breath just to make you laugh. And when you both reach for the same dish, your fingers brush—and linger. Neither of you moves.

You glance at him. He’s already looking at you like you’re the best thing he’s seen all night.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you whisper, biting your lip.

“Like what?” he asks, faking innocence.

“Like you’re thinking about kissing me at a table full of Avengers.”

He leans in, voice low. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Your breath catches. You blink, trying not to let it show. “Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t kick you under this table.”

“I’d still kiss you.”

“You’re impossible.”

He smirks. “Yeah. But I’m your problem.”

You’re in the middle of pretending to care about Steve and Nat’s back-and-forth on training strategies when your phone buzzes in your lap.

[bucky]: come to the kitchen. 5 mins. say you forgot the hot sauce.

You bite your lip to keep from grinning. He sees it and smiles with just one side of his mouth.

A few minutes later, you slide your chair back, muttering something about needing Sriracha. No one blinks. They're all too busy arguing over which dessert to try first.

You slip into the kitchen.

And there he is. Leaning against the counter, arms crossed, eyes already on you. Like he wasn’t just sitting beside you five minutes ago.

“I’m starting to think I’m more addicted to seeing you than caffeine,” he says, that soft smile tugging at his lips.

You walk right into his arms. He smells like clean laundry and something you can’t place—something that’s just him.

“I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

“Tell that to Sam,” he mutters. “He said I’ve been grumpy all week. I was just missing this.”

His fingers brush your cheek, his thumb grazing the curve of your jaw. You lean up and kiss him—quick, soft, sweet. The kind of kiss that says I wish we had more time.

And then you steal another.

And another.

He groans, resting his forehead against yours. “Okay. One more, and then I’m walking back in there like nothing happened.”

You smirk. “You have lipstick on your mouth.”

“Dammit.”

When you both return, the table’s still buzzing, still full of warmth and noise and people who feel like home. Bucky catches your eye as you pass him the dessert like it’s nothing.

But you know. And he knows. And your heart is doing somersaults when Bucky leans in again.

“You’ve got whipped cream on your lip.”

You freeze. Glance at him, wary. “Do I?”

He nods solemnly and you wipe your mouth with a napkin. “Better?”

He tilts his head, eyes sparkling. “Not really. Might need to check later.”

You kick him under the table.

Dinner winds down slowly, plates are half-empty, dessert is more whipped cream than anything else, and everyone’s full in that way that makes you too lazy to move.

Tony’s talking about building a pizza oven on the roof. Clint is inexplicably napping in his chair. Wanda’s stealing bites off Sam’s plate while pretending not to. And you?

Your face hurts from smiling, your stomach’s full, but you still offer to clean up.

“I’ll do the dishes,” you say, already sliding your chair back.

A second later, Bucky glances your way. “I’ll help.”

“Seriously?” Sam teases. “Since when do you volunteer?”

“Since now,” Bucky says coolly, already following you into the kitchen.

You roll your eyes, but your heart is racing.

The kitchen is quieter than the dining room, where the others are still laughing, picking at desserts, arguing over who cheated in charades last week. In here, it’s just you, the soft clink of dishes, and Bucky—close behind you.

You roll up your sleeves and start running the water, pretending your hands aren’t slightly shaking. “You don’t actually have to help, you know.”

“I know,” he says, leaning a hip against the counter beside you. “But I want to.”

You glance at him sidelong. “You hate doing dishes.”

He shrugs. “I’ve done worse.”

You snort, handing him a dish towel. The two of you fall into a rhythm quiet, easy. You wash, he dries. Occasionally your arms brush, and each time it’s like a tiny electric pulse zips up your spine. You tell yourself not to overthink it. You fail.

“You were quiet at dinner,” you say, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn bit of lasagna like it personally offended you. “Well. Except for all the flirting.”

Bucky doesn’t answer right away. When he does, his voice is low. “I like watching everyone like that. Laughing. Being...normal.” He pauses. “I like watching you.”

You freeze, dish half-submerged in sudsy water. Slowly, you turn to look at him. “That supposed to be smooth?”

He grins, shameless. “Did it work?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Because he’s looking at you again—that way he does, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, and worse, that he means every bit of it. Your heart is somewhere in your throat.

“Bucky,” you say, unsure what comes next.

But then he sets the dish towel down. Steps a little closer. And when you don’t move he reaches up and brushes a wet strand of hair from your cheek.

“You gonna kick me under the sink,” he murmurs, “or are you finally gonna let me kiss you?”

Your breath catches. “There are at least three Avengers in earshot.”

“Then I’ll be quick.”

And he is. But somehow it still feels slow, like the whole world holds its breath for you, just for this. It’s not desperate. It’s not showy. It’s just real. When he pulls back, you blink up at him, dazed. “You call that quick?”

He grins, a little smug. “Told you I’ve done worse.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling too. “You missed a spot,” you say, tossing him a still-dripping plate.

He catches it one-handed, totally unfazed. “You’re lucky I like you.”

You bump your hip into his, reaching for a fresh towel. “I tolerate it.”

There’s a beat of silence before he adds, “You know, I kinda like this.”

“The dishes?”

“No. This.” He gestures between you. “You. Me. Elbow-deep in soap. Feels… nice.”

You reach over and flick a bubble at him.

He blinks, deadpan. “Did you just—”

You do it again, giggling. He retaliates by flicking water at your face. You shriek. He laughs.

“What, you can handle HYDRA but not a splash of water?” he teases.

You grab the sprayer.

“Don’t you dare.”

“I dare.”

There’s a short-lived, extremely wet battle that ends with Bucky shielding himself with a dish towel and you both breathless from laughter, leaning against the counter like you’ve run a marathon.

“I think we’re officially banned from post-dinner cleanup now,” you say, still giggling.

“Worth it.”

There’s a pause. He looks at you, hair a little damp, cheeks pink from laughing. And then he leans in again, just because he can. Just because you’re both still smiling.

When he pulls back, he murmurs, “Think we can sneak off to dry off somewhere quieter?”

You grin. “Only if you promise not to start a water war in the hallway.”

“No promises.” But you link your pinky with his anyway.

And that’s when it happens. A very deliberate throat-clear from the doorway. You both freeze like guilty teenagers. Natasha’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, one brow raised like she’s watching a soap opera. “You two done playing splashy-splash, or should I get you floaties?”

Bucky groans softly, his head thudding against the cabinet door behind him. You try to hide behind the dish towel. It doesn’t work.

Natasha steps further into the room, clearly savoring this. “Didn’t know dishwashing came with a swim option.”

“We were just—” you start.

“—cleaning,” Bucky finishes, not even trying to sound convincing.

“Mhm,” Natasha hums, giving you both the kind of look that could peel paint. “You know, for two people trying so hard to look casual, you’re not very good at it.”

Before you can respond, there’s a loud clink from the doorway. Steve steps in, completely unbothered. Holding a slice of pie on a plate like it’s the most important thing in the world.

 “Is everything okay here?”

Natasha raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything more. Instead, she shoots you one last look, a knowing glint in her eye. “Alright, alright. Carry on with your... dishes.” She turns, heading toward the door, but not before adding with a teasing smile, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Steve watches her leave, clearly lost in his pie-induced bliss. “What’s her deal?”

You and Bucky exchange an amused look before Bucky mutters, “You really don’t want to know.”

Steve shrugs. “Yeah, probably not.”

And just like that, the moment passes. Natasha's suspicion lingers in the air for only a second longer before Steve’s back to his pie, you’re back to drying dishes, and Bucky’s smile is a little too smug for anyone’s good.

next part

[melanchoire]

ot4 aespa x freeuse reader PLZZZ

so many requests about g!p aespa so HERE WE GO

cw: blowjob, breeding, creampie, degradation, double penetration, handjob, humiliation, mommy kink, riding, sex tape??

being the only member without a dick in a group where all your groupmates have one was a difficult task for you 😣 at first you weren’t aware that they had this... characteristic. but when you found out about it, there was a certain tension whenever you were around them, and you always tried to do everything possible to make sure it wasn’t an awkward moment! buuut there were times when tension and desires won…

unnie karina who always has most of the work; solo activities, special collaborations in music festivals, projects as a model or ambassador. besides being the leader of the group, you already know how that role involves a lot of work and time in the life of an idol and how much maturity and seriousness she has to put in sometimes. she has no time for anything!

so karina returns to the dorms tired after a week full of solo and group activities, flights to other countries and long hours of filming for upcoming campaigns with brands where she is an ambassador or muse. seeing the pout and tired expression on her face as she walks through the door to your room is all you need to know that today you will be the one helping your leader and take care of her as she usually takes care of her members

riding her cock while she can only flatter you and moan beneath you 😵‍💫 karina has no strength today to degrade you or try to dominate you, so she just lies on her back, resting her hands on your hips and enjoying how you’re making her feel good by riding her and helping her take some stress off her exhausted body :( looking up at you with bright puppy eyes, begging “please love. keep going, don’t stop. please.” and you wouldn’t stop even if she begged you! karina always works sooo hard and is usually a punching bag when it comes to criticism, being in the eye of the storm and under the judging gaze of the public 💔 and the best thing you can do is let your dear unnie use your body to forget about the world out there for a bit

ohhh and if you play with her tits while riding her cock 😵‍💫 super whiny and needy when your thumbs rub her nipples, writhing under your body as she thrusts her hips up to bury her cock deeper inside you as if it wasn’t deep enough already!

giselle being the talented writer and producer of songs or mixtapes that were never officially released due to company decisions, but it was no problem at all! she loved working on music as a hobby, enjoying writing songs and making new sounds or trying out other rhythms that caught her attention or were fun. giselle also loved inviting you to her bedroom! recording songs with meaningless but catchy lyrics, playing with voice effects and making instrumentals that were catchy and quite danceable

but giselle sometimes also wants to work on making music seriously, making songs for future projects or opportunities that may arise at some point in the future throughout her career with her group or as a solo artist. but she includes you in her plans too?? she states that she would like the two of you to do a collaboration in case she ever starts a solo career, or in any case, be a sub–unit outside the group or in some song for a group album in the future

she would say, “i would like to try something like ‘call me mommy, mommy.’ or something spicy and naughty like that.” and you would laugh in her face because you thought she was joking! until she arches an eyebrow and you realize that giselle was being completely serious about this…

lying on your stomach on her bed, a pillow under your stomach to lift your hips up so giselle can fuck your pussy from behind while you moan and whine into the microphone connected to her laptop 🥰 of course she could use a sample or be the one to record the moans for this track, but why would she do that when she has a bandmate willing to help her with her musical projects??

whining “mommy” after every time giselle’s voice sings the line “call me mommy, mommy.” and sounding so vulnerable and fragile that giselle begins to question whether she wants to release that song in the future because you sound so beautiful moaning her name that she wants to be the only person who can hear you in that position…

ALSO giselle opening her computer camera and recording or taking photos while she fucks you cruelly from behind 😣 pulling your hair and forcing you to lift your face from the pillows, making you look at your own reflection in the front camera, clicking the mouse and taking a photo at the exact moment her cock kisses your cervix in a thrust that makes you roll your eyes and open your mouth in a silent moan 🫠 but giselle won’t post that photo on her instagram! she would if she could 👀 she prefers to upload it to her private account where she only has the members of the group and her closest friends, showing off to the world the fun she has during the recordings of her songs

winter and ningning, the cute maknaes of the group who are obsessed and perverted when it comes to their beloved unnie 🥺 winter shamelessly staring at your ass while ningning has her gaze fixed on your tits, both exchanging a knowing look and talking mentally to decide if what they have is a good idea or not…

getting on your knees and jerking off both of their cocks at the same time, enjoying how sensitive and loud your sweet members get from having this kind of attention on them 😵‍💫 winter grabbing her cock with one hand, guiding the head against your lips and moaning as you take her entire length into your mouth without even choking or gagging 😳 of course ningning takes advantage of this to guide both of your hands to her cock, giving you a needy look and begging you to give her the same treatment you’re giving winter :( and of course you do! sucking winter’s cock at the same time as your hands go up and down as you jerk off ningning, both of them moving their hips towards you in search of more

and they’re so messy when cumming 😣 winter pulling out of your mouth, jerking off her cock in her fist at the same speed you were doing with ningning’s cock, trying to match your movements but whining and crying because it was a very fast speed and she was so overstimulated and sensitive that she could barely take it without giving in right there :( but winter is grateful when she feels your hand wrap around her cock and replace her own, now jerking off both girls at the same time and encouraging them to cum on your face, and they do! their cocks twitching in your hands, shooting heavy loads of cum straight into your mouth, looking at you in amazement when you swallow everything because those two always make a mess and cum in torrents!

being penetrated with both at the same time, riding ningning’s cock while winter is kneeling behind you and fucking your ass, enjoying the way your ass bounces every time her hips hits against it 🥴 hissing as she places her hands on your hips and fucks her cock into your ass at an even faster speed making you drip even more on ningning’s cock, earning a moan from her and making ningning finally start moving her hips up to fuck you from below

and both are two subs so whiny and needy 🥺 whimpering and babbling pleas or incoherent things, moaning “unnie” in every sentence that came out of their lips, and you loved that! always having a thing for the way they said “unnie”, maybe it was because of how soft and sweet their voices were and how that word sounded so adorable coming from them

both cumming inside you, desperate to fill you with their seed 😣 they would make you open your own cheeks for them, enjoying how the cum of both drips from your holes and runs down your thighs slowly, feeling their cocks start to harden again…

[cacoetheswriting]

girl you have that really angsty Eddie fic where he gets hooked on things he shouldn't and it ruins his relationship with reader - please please please write some more Eddie angst, BEGGING

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader [modern day au] word count: 5k

summary: a weekend gateway to with your old high school friends? sounds like a dream! only it’s not really as it’s been three years since you last saw them. three years since you left hawkins without so much as a goodbye, and certain people tend to hold grudges.

content warnings: heavily unedited (sorry): angsty angst, mature themes & adult language, mentions & descriptions of underage alcohol consumption / substance abuse, anxiety / panic attacks, emotional hurt / no comfort, unrequited (sorta) love, some mutual pining, love triangle?, eddie is a bit of an asshole, also touches on topics of: divorce, death, grief — pls let me know if i missed any!

Parking your car at the desired destination, you glance out the half-opened window and note how the weather is far from ideal for the planned activities. 

It’s cold. Cold enough to make anyone's atoms shiver. Dark grey clouds cover every inch of the sky above, hiding the beautiful autumn sun. The air is brisk. It’s harsh against your skin as you eventually get out of the red Jeep and the unwelcoming breeze that follows makes you wish that you had packed warmer clothes for this weekend.

Jesus, you think, as if this trip wasn’t going to be hard enough.

When your feet hit the gravel below, you exhale, wondering whether it’s too late to change your mind about agreeing to come. Since the weather was seemingly against you, what’s to say the universe wasn’t going to continue ruining this weekend? But before you get a chance to decide what your next move is going to be, the door of the lake house swings open and Nancy runs out, arms spread wide as she squeals with excitement.

“I can’t believe you actually came!”

The hug she gives you is strong, almost full force. It takes you a second to register that one second she was running out of the house, and the next, her arms are wrapped tightly around you as if no time has passed between now and when you last saw her. Therefore, it takes you a second to hug her back, but when you do, a small smile circles your lips. Familiarity. Maybe this trip won’t be so bad after all.

“Of course I came,” you say as she draws back, “You know me, Nance, always down for a good time.”

Nancy laughs. “Oh, I remember.”

Then her smile falters just as fast as it appears and you know exactly which memory crosses her mind because your own thoughts wander back to that moment too, along with the people involved.

“Sorry, my joke was in poor taste. If you can even call that a joke.” You admit with a lighthearted huff.

“No, no.” Nancy shakes her head, but even with the years that have passed since you last saw each other in person, you know the look in her eye is one of concern.

You think to try and ease at least some of her worry since she did go through all the trouble to organise this weekend for your high school group to get together and the last thing you’d want is for her to second-guess ever inviting you.

“I- uh… I actually don’t really drink anymore.”

Her facial expression shifts to one of surprise, though she doesn’t say anything which would demonstrate that. Instead, she smiles again.

“Good for you,” the tone of her voice conveys pride and you’re grateful.

“Thanks, Nance.”

One day you’ll tell her about the road that led you to sobriety, but today’s not that day.

Today is about reintroducing yourself to the friends that have helped you get through four hellish years that were called ‘high school’. The people that were there for you through the good and the ugly; which got real fucking ugly sometimes. The group that most often than not was your literal lifeline. 

Nancy, your best friend. Robin, your sidekick. Jonathan, your unlicensed therapist. Steve, your partner in crime. And Eddie…

You haven’t seen any of them since graduation.

Three years of virtually no contact.

Sure, it made you wonder why you were even invited to this weekend getaway in the first place, but Nancy was always like a sister so you knew her motives were definitely not malicious.

“Let me help you with your bags,” the brunette girl offers and before you get a chance to decline, say you’ve got them on your own since you really didn’t bring much with you, she’s at the boot of your car.

While Nancy fills you in on the plans she’s made for everyone, the various activities she’s organised for the days ahead, the two of you gather your belongings before making your way towards the big house. 

Apparently everyone is already here.

Nancy, Jonathan, and someone called Argyle (a new addition to the group, undoubtedly a breath of fresh air following your departure), got here last night. Steve, Robin, and Eddie arrived this morning.

“But the boys went to the shop to get all the groceries we need for this weekend, so right now it’s just me and Robin.” Nancy explains, fingers wrapping around the door handle. It’s her way of saying not to be nervous, he wasn’t here right now, and with that your shoulders relax in relief.

The inside of the house is even more impressive than its exterior. High ceilings, all wooden floors, and decor that undoubtedly cost more than anything you own or could actually afford. In the living area, there’s paintings on the walls that depict the home during construction, then in its full glory, as it stands now. Various knick-knacks fill the shelving, and the bookcase at the back of the room is filled top to bottom with stories you’ve never even heard of.

You allow yourself to continue into the kitchen, which looks like a piece out of Architectural Digest. Modern touches to the original design, upgraded appliances that look like they’ve never been used. There’s a large dining table in the back of the space, already set for dinner. The windows behind it offer a perfect view of the lake and as you look at the water; peace. For a split-second, you let yourself really think that coming wasn’t a bad idea after all.

“Jesus, Nance, how the hell did you find this place?” You ask in awe once the girl stands beside you.

“Argyle has this aunt who’s an avid Airbnb user. Honestly, when he first showed me the pictures, I thought he was out of it, like he usually is, but here we are...”

You don’t get to tell her how beautiful you think it is ‘cause there’s a high-pitch screech that startles you, and within seconds, someone’s arms wrap around your frame, swaying you from side to side.

“When Wheeler told me you agreed to come, I swear I thought she was bluffing!”

Robin drops her arms, allowing you to turn in your spot and face her. The grin on her face is wide, complimenting her new haircut, which is about the only thing that’s changed in her physical appearance over the last three years.

She playfully smacks your arm. You do the same to her. It’s reminiscent of a handshake, an acknowledgment that despite the years of only sending and receiving generic birthday texts, you guys were still as close as ever.

“Long time no see, Buckley. Loving the new look.” You point to her long bleached locks.

“Yeah? I was going for that badass lesbian vibe. What Daenerys should’ve been.”

You chuckle. “Well, I’d say mission accomplished.”

“Thanks,” Robin smirks then takes the duffle out of your grasp and turns to Nancy, asking to lead the way to the room that’s been assigned to you.

Up the stairs and down the long hallway, the girls point to the shared bathroom, but Nancy says your room actually has an en-suite. Then she outlines which door leads to whose bedroom — Eddie’s is first up the stairs and you wonder whose choice it was to deliberately keep you two away — before stopping at the last door and pushing it open to reveal your safe space for this weekend.

First thought that crosses your mind is how this one bedroom is bigger than your entire apartment. The bed alone would probably not fit in your current home. Second thought is how you have the same view as in the kitchen, only higher up, and you thank Nancy for assigning you this room for that reason alone.

“It’s no big deal,” she replies with a shrug, “You had the longest trip out here, only fair you get the best room, so you can properly rewind.” 

“As the organiser, you should have the nicest room,” you counter, but Nance just waves her hand, dismissing what was going to be an offer to swap.

She proceeds to place the bag she was holding at the foot of the bed.

“Get settled in and we’ll start on food once the guys return.”

“You should have enough time to shower, if you want,” Robin chimes in, also dropping the duffel she carried up for you, “Knowing the four of them, they’re still trying to locate the gluten free sticker on the pasta Nance asked for.”

“Rob,” Nancy snorts.

The blonde shrugs. “You know it’s true! Those idiots can’t fucking read.”

They leave you shortly after, telling you to take your time to clean up and change into something more comfortable. 

When the door shuts with a soft thud, you exhale a breath you didn’t even realise you were holding. It’s all okay, it’s all okay, it’s all okay, you repeat to yourself silently, and although you feel a little calmer than when you first arrived, there is still tension in your neck. There’s only one reason for that. One that isn’t here right now, but is bound to arrive at any point in the next hour.

‘arrived safe & sound. still feeling a little nauseous about this whole thing, but I’m taking your advice.. keep positive.’ - The text to your mom sends with a whooshing sound as you throw your phone on the large bed.

You glance around the room again, taking in the decor as a distraction to the anxiety bubbling in your chest. The furnishings are similar to the rest of the house, classy with a modern twist. Peaceful colours that perfectly compliment the wooden fixtures, and the birds chirping melodically outside the open window only add to the serenity. It’s really one of the nicest places you’ve ever stayed in and you take a mental note to send Nancy a bouquet of flowers when you get home, as a thank you.

When you step under the shower, you’re even more grateful. 

Back in your own apartment, you’re not guaranteed warm water, having to often make a choice between rinsing off the hectic day or cleaning the dishes so there’s something to eat off. It’s the life you chose, so you really can’t complain, but standing here in silence as the hot droplets wash over your skin, you think maybe you chose wrong. Then you think how fucking selfish that is of you since there’s a clear list of reasons why, aside from the comfort of a scolding shower, the choices you made three years ago where far from good.

Leaving without saying goodbye to everyone, for one. No explanations, no notes.

Only Nancy knew of your plan. After all, she was the one that talked you into leaving. 

The final nail in the coffin — so to speak — was her opinion on the literal shitshow that the final months of your high school career had become. And when she sat you down, the afternoon before graduation, she made it clear how she was worried about you and perhaps it was for the best to get away from Hawkins. Leave everything and everyone behind, allowing yourself time to heal and get your head straight.

You had only planned to be gone that one summer. But things never go to plan, especially for you.

Three months turned into four, then six, and before you knew it, a year had passed since your departure. Some of the group had tried to reach out at various points during that time, but you didn’t engage — only replied to Nancy the odd time, and texted Robin the mentioned before birthday wishes. 

The one person you really wished checked in on you, was the only person that didn’t. Not like you could blame him. You broke his fucking heart.

It wasn’t entirely a secret that Eddie Munson had a big fat crush on you.

He wouldn’t call it love at first sight, but it was pretty damn close — as you later found out from Robin. Later. Too late. She then went on to say, when the rocker first laid eyes on you, standing at Nancy’s locker and laughing at something she’d said moments prior, Eddie’s heart skipped a beat. Then two. The metalhead thought you were perhaps the most gorgeous girl to ever walk down the halls of Hawkins High, although he never said it out loud. 

(Not to you anyway.)

Things changed however, when you started dating Billy Hargrove. 

That boy was a bad influence for sure, even more than Eddie’s wild antics, but at that point in your life, you saw the world through rose-coloured glasses and turned a blind eye to Billy’s shitty behaviour.

Your first drink was provided to you by the scruffy blonde.

The first time you blacked out was after his funeral.

Earth shattering, his sudden death. Having lost the first love you’ve ever had, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You didn’t know how to cope. By the time your senior year came around, and Eddie’s third attempt at graduation, your life only continued to spiral out of control.

Your parents announced their divorce. It was apparently no one’s fault — irreconcilable differences — but their break up meant the house you’d grown up in was being put up for sale and you suddenly had to choose who you wanted to live with. 

Being an only child never brought with it any pressures, until now. Your father was moving cross country. Relocating with his job, who no longer needed him at their Indianapolis location, preferred he run the new branch in Las Vegas. Your mother was also venturing outside Hawkins, just not as far. She apparently found this cute place in Fort Wayne and was already in talks with a local school there for a part-time teaching position.

The Wheelers took you in following a conversation between Karen and your mom about how you shouldn’t be finishing your high school education someplace new, so this solved one problem.

But being away from your support system unfortunately made you feel increasingly isolated. Your parents had this “open door” policy that you didn’t realise you needed until it was no longer readily available. Phone calls and texts just weren’t the same.

This time in your life proved how difficult it was to pretend you were genuinely happy.

Eddie was the first to notice the subtle change in your attitude. He’d often ask what was bothering you, but you’d always tell him nothing, so he eventually learned to stop and simply tried to distract you with his usual antics.

You hated him for it. You hated how he just knew how you were feeling. How he could sense those deep and inner thoughts you were trying to hide. And you hated now he would try to make you feel better when all you really wanted was for the sad feelings to swallow you whole.

Without proper supervision, your after school activities also shifted into ones that would fill the emptiness you were constantly feeling. You were always quite outgoing, always the first one to say yes when someone mentioned a party, but the months between December and April unlocked a new version of you. One not many people in your friend group were particularly a fan of, though all too afraid of saying something.

It all came crashing down the night of Chrissy Cunningham’s farewell party. A few days before graduation, she invited the entire senior year to her parents’ lavish home for a get together that her dickhead boyfriend called: Project X 2.0. 

You asked Steve to come with you — much to Eddie’s dismay.

In the end, Carver got his wish. The party was indeed memorable for all the wrong reasons and the endless list of mistakes you made that night, in your inebriated state, was precisely why you left Hawkins in a hurry.

Las Vegas turned out to not be so bad.

There were a few bumps in the road upon your first arrival. A few too many drunken nights, drunken fights, and drunken one night stands. But once your dad acknowledged your reckless behaviour was becoming a serious problem, things got a little easier. Therapy helped. 

A year and a half later, there was only one thing that made you want to reach for a drink to flush the hard work down the drain: Eddie Munson and how you treated him at that party, what you put him through that night.

In retrospect, you should’ve been the one to reach out to him. At least a call to say I’m sorry for the things I did and said. No time just felt like the right time and then, when Chrissy posted a picture of herself sitting happily in Eddie’s lap, it seemed a little too late.

Did it hurt to see him move on from the crush he had on you? Yes. 

Again, you couldn’t blame him for doing so.

-

“How was your shower?” Nancy asks when you come back downstairs.

She’s sitting on one of the sofas, a cotton blanket covering her legs. Robin is next to her, fingers working the keyboard of her phone, and looks up following Nancy’s question.

“No offence, but you look a lot better than when you first arrived.” 

The comment earns Buckley a good nudge to the rib cage by the brunette beside her. 

“Ow! Jesus Christ, Nance—”

“We talked about this,” Nancy interrupts, narrowing her eyes at the girl.

“It was a simple observation,” Robin defends, “I’m sure she’s fucking nervous to be here, rightfully so—”

“Robin!”

“It’s okay,” you chime in and the girls simultaneously turn to look at you once again. “Buckley’s right. I am nervous.”

Both their expressions simultaneously turn to one of sympathy. You plaster on the best smile you can muster before making yourself comfortable in an armchair by the open window, feeling their gaze follow your every move. You want to tell them to stop, tell them that the nerves will pass so it’s no big deal, but they’d see right through you. The topic of you, Eddie, and that horrendous high school party will haunt this group like a ghost, lingering in the background even if it’s addressed — which you’re going to have to do very soon. That’s why you came.

“He asks about you all the time,” Nancy says after a long pause, “What’s she doing? Is she working, studying?”

“Is she seeing anyone?” Robin adds.

“Is she happy…”

The ache in your chest increases with every spoken word, fueled by the guilt you carried every single day for the last three years. Somehow knowing now that Eddie asked about you was worse than thinking he’s moved on because, selfishly, if he was happy, then it wasn’t all bad. If he was happy, then the harsh truths you drunkenly sputtered in his direction weren’t a cruel thing to do, they weren’t as vile as you remembered them to be. If he was happy, then what you did after wasn’t a complete betrayal.

“I-I never meant to hurt him,” you finally whisper, forcing down the tears that threaten to break. “I never meant to hurt any of you.”

The girls both offer you a smile.

“We know,” Nancy reassures, “That’s why we thought it’d be a good idea to invite you this weekend. What happened three years ago is so minor in terms of the rest of our lives, it’s time we all move past it.”

Nancy, the peacemaker.

“Plus I’m planning a trip to Vegas for my birthday and I need your help with organising,” Robin chips in, her smile shifting into a grin. “You wouldn’t have answered my call, but now there’s no escape.”

Robin, the girl that can always get you to laugh.

The chuckle that escapes your lips is genuine. For a split second, your nerves are eased and you’re transported back to the basement of your childhood home where the three of you spent hours planning your futures while flicking through trashy magazines in accompaniment to old hits blaring through the docking station your dad’s iPod was connected to. 

Back then, turning twenty-one seemed like a distant dream. 

So you proceed to reassure the blonde you are going to get her name on the list of some of the best clubs Vegas has and she squeals, jumping up to squeeze you with excitement, and telling you how Vickie, her girlfriend, was going to lose her shit over this, then she disappears into the kitchen, presumably to call Vickie with the news.

“You just made her day,” Nancy says, smiling kindly.

“I’m glad I could do at least that,” you reply, then add, “I’m happy to be here. Thank you for thinking of me, Nance.”

Whatever Nancy is about to say next is interrupted by the sound of tires on gravel. The engine is shut shortly after your head snaps in the direction of the entryway, a large gulp forming in the back of your throat.

The next few minutes pass at an agonisingly slow pace. You think you hear Nancy call out your name, but your focus is on the door alone, waiting for it to open, waiting for him to come inside. You’re anticipating his reaction to seeing you after all this time, wondering if he’d even acknowledge your presence or skip straight to the kitchen with the acquired groceries.

From a recent post on Instagram, you know what he looks like. Really good, if anybody asked. You were careful not to like it despite your finger hovering over the image for a few seconds too long. Then you were careful not to like any other picture as you scrolled through his profile until you reached the very end: a post of the two of you at a Halloween party your junior year, the night you finally talked him into creating an account. 

Thanks to the light stalking, you also know him and Chrissy broke up a few weeks ago. He seemingly deleted any trace of the preppy blonde from his profile, she did the same with him, and you couldn’t deny the stinge of satisfaction that cursed through your veins upon that revelation.

When the doorknob rattles, you hop on your feet.

There’s no going back now. You prepared yourself for this moment ever since you accepted Nancy’s invitation. Time to face the music.

Jonathan walks in first. He greets Nancy with a kiss before offloading the twelve-pack of beers onto the floor and turning his attention to you. His smile is big and you’re feeling a little less nervous when he pulls you into a silent hug. When he pulls back, he pats you on the shoulder, then picks up the box he’s after placing on the floor and walks in the direction of the kitchen.

The guy that introduces himself as Argyle is next. Heavy lidded, he’s holding an open bag of Doritos and jokes about how he’d also give you a hug but he doesn’t trust himself with the orange residue on his fingers.

“White t-shirts are the devil, man,” he draws out the last syllable and flops onto the couch next to Nancy, offering her a corn triangle. When she politely declines, he just shrugs and throws it in the air, only to not catch it with his mouth, the piece falling onto the wooden floor.

With your gaze now focused on the chip, a single step away from you, Nancy scolds Argyle to not do that again. In the midst of this small ordeal, you don’t hear your name being said. Only when a white Nike sneaker appears in your field of vision, stepping on the Dorito and smashing it to pieces, you look up at the person addressing you.

Steve’s expression is full of emotion, but he doesn’t move from the spot he’s found himself in. He doesn’t attempt to hug you or reach out for you like the others did, only staring into your eyes as if he was mesmerised by the fact you were actually here.

“Shit– I mean…”

“Yeah…”

That’s all that you can say right now because it’s not yet the time to address what also went down between the two of you at the infamous party. Steve seems to be on the same page as you, opting instead to finally take that step forward and hesitantly wrap his strong arms around your frame.

The hug is awkward at first, but when you nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck as if no time has passed, exhaling softly when your hands make home on his back, the boy relaxes and his grip on you tightens ever so slightly. He whispers, “I missed you, sweetheart.”, into your ear and you instantly return the sentiment because it’s true, you missed him terribly. More than you cared to admit to yourself before this very moment.

For a few seconds, you forget where you are. Inhaling the scent of Steve’s aftershave and revelling in the way his arms perfectly folded around you, making you feel safe. For a few seconds, you feel at peace. For a few simple seconds, you forget about the person you’re still to see. The person that most likely wouldn’t be as open to seeing you again, especially now that you were in Steve’s arms.

The door shuts with a tame bang, a distinctive sound of runners tapping against the wooden floor, Nancy says your name as Robin calls out for Steve, you think you hear Argyle murmuring “Ohhh shit, dude”, then someone clears their throat and you finally open your eyes, which seemingly have closed moments prior.

Your throat dries.

There, leaning against the archway with his hands hidden in the pockets of his dark denim jeans is the boy who was once your friend, if not more.

Unlike Steve, Eddie stares at you with a blank look in his eyes, devoid of any real emotion. The emptiness behind the mahogany sends a shiver down your spine and you’re suddenly hyper aware of the position he has once again found you in.

Freeing yourself from Steve’s grasp, you hold your arms close to your chest for protection. He places a hand on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, before motioning for Argyle to follow him out of the room, where Nancy and the rest of the group just disappeared — leaving you alone with Eddie.

Neither of you says anything for what feels like an eternity.

You’re afraid to blink, just in case he disappears during the brief second your eyes close. Truthfully, he has every right to do so. Rush upstairs and slam his bedroom door shut as you remain right where he left you, forever haunted by the choices you made three years ago.

No, no. 

There’s a reason you came and that’s to say you’re sorry.

Before you get a chance to break the silence, Eddie scoffs under his breath, dipping his head while running a hand through his brown locks. His hand remains at the back of his neck when he looks up at you again, a stupid smirk now plastered across his face.

“So, you and Harrington seem close as ever.”

Not the first words you expected to come out of his mouth, but given the situation he’s just encountered, they’re not surprising.

You nervously clear your throat, hugging yourself tighter.

“Uhm… No, we were just—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupts, his words cold yet the tone of his voice deceives him just a little. Also, if he actually didn’t care, then why make a sly comment in the first place?

But you don’t get to point that out, firstly ‘cause you’re still building up the courage to speak, and secondly because he’s quicker to continue with making his opinion known.

“Obviously you’ve always done whatever the fuck you wanted. Whoever you wanted.”

Ouch.

“Eddie, I-I…” you sigh quietly,  “We were just hugging. We haven’t seen each other in a while.”

Eddie scoffs. “Cute.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t be condescending.” You shake your head. “I didn’t come here to argue with you.”

“Then why did you come here?”

“‘Cause I missed all of you, plus Nancy invited me and I-I wanted to take this trip to apologise. Explain myself.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. 

“Well as far as I’m concerned, you can keep your apology,” he states sternly, standing up straight and taking a step in your direction. “Clearly the rest of them are right back to licking your ass, just like they did in high school. Entertaining your shitty behaviour, but I’m not interested.”

His words hurt. It feels like tiny nails are being hammered into your heart and you’re helpless to stop it.

“I don’t care for you and I don’t want to be around you. Since we’re stuck here, just refrain from jumping on Harrington at every chance you get. It’s fucking desperate behaviour.”

Tears burn down your cheeks slowly. They blur your vision and make you look like a giant fucking fool, even bigger than you already are. Eddie doesn’t owe you anything, you know that. Yet here you stand, silently crying over his animosity.

Nancy's words ring in your ears, “he asks about you, he asks if you’re happy.”. What a load of bullshit. He clearly doesn’t give a shit.

“I’ll make sure to stay out of your way then,” is all you manage to blurt out, wiping the wet droplets with the back of your hand.

Pushing past him, making a point to shove his shoulder with a little force, you hurry upstairs and into the confines of your bedroom. You make sure not to let the door shut with a bang, steering away from the dramatics Eddie undoubtedly wanted to provoke. Yes, he hurt your feelings, but you sure as hell weren’t going to let him ruin this weeknd for you and the rest of your mutual friends.

His reaction didn’t surprise you. In fact, you expected it. 

That doesn’t mean it’s any easier to digest.

Taking a few minutes to collect yourself, you check your phone and begin to open unseen notifications from various social media sites in an attempt to think about anything else than Eddie’s words.

“Deseperate fucking behaviour,” he’s said that to you before. The deja-vu hits harder than anticipated, making the nausea you thought you surpassed earlier spring right back up, stronger.

Yup. As you regain control of your breathing, you think for sure that coming here was definitely a mistake.

thank you for reading & please support your writers by reblogging <3

[lcriedlastnight]

Hi can i pls request a lando x reader where he mentions in many interviews that he wants an army of kids and the camara always pans to other drivers teasing reader

ofc you can baby <33 thanks for helping me celebrate! here's that kiss i promised xoxo

requests are open!

852 words.

it wasn't unknown that lando wanted kids. it's not like he went out of his way to to talk about having children either, he just went on half an hour tangents anytime an interviewer brought up the topic is all. you didn't find out just how many until you decided to ask him about it one night, not long after lando had gotten slandered on twitter for being 'obsessed' with having a mini version of himself running around.

"so.. you know how you've said you want kids?" you start, voice a little hesitant knowing he was a bit peeved about the bullying he was getting online for that very thing. if looks could kill you swear you would be a dead girl.

"don't you start." he groans, eyes rolling so hard to the of his head you thought they may get stuck.

lando, who had just gotten ready for bed, slips in beside you and you immediately know he's not actually pissed off at you because he is pulling your arm to get you as close to him as he physically could.

"i don't mean it like that, i just wanted to ask you about it." lando watches as you strain your neck up to be able to see his reaction from your very comfortable position on his chest. it does bring the smallest of smiles to his lips.

with a joking sigh he asks "what do you want to know?".

"well, i guess the most important one is-"

"if i want them with you?" lando interrupts, sending your brows into your hairline. you smack him on the back of the head and he just laughs like it was actually funny. dickhead.

"no! how many you want. but now i don't want any with you if they're going to turn out like you." you cross your arms over your chest, trying to convince him you actually were in a huff. a strong hand running down your front seconds after ruins your plans for any further annoyance though.

lando hums in thought before he answers your question. his hand now drawing random shapes on your hip bone.

"you're going to hate me when i say this, but i only really wanted a few maybe two max? but being with you? i want minimum four."

your gasp makes him wince. you're shocked, there is no way he is actually being serious. you tell him as much but he shakes his head and assures you just how serious he is.

"honestly baby. i want a big family with you."

his words may or may not rile you and you guys maybe get started on that big family that night, but you don't kiss and tell..

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

lando wasn't one to hold back on his thoughts or feelings and with his rants about wanting to start a family were proof of this, well you had thought so. the next time you're at the paddock is the next time he's asked about starting a family. you're watching from the side with max and oscar as he gets interviewed and you can see the say his whole face lights up at the question, as if racing was a chore he was getting forced to do every few weekends and not the second favourite part of his life.

lando takes a quick glance in your direction before he starts and it's like your conversation on the topic opened the floodgates in lando's mind as he reveals his every thought on having a baby or two or ten.

"me and my girlfriend were talking about this and it made me realise i want a full on norris army of children behind me. i want minimum four with my girl. ideally two of each but wouldn't even complain if all i had was girls because then that means that there would be so much more of my girl out there in the world, and little parts of me i guess too." lando's smile is splitting and the interviewer smiles back at him, loving seeing him being so open and honest about it.

"would you encourage your little ones to get involved in karting and racing?" she enquires. you can already picture taking your imaginary children along to watch lando in his races. it does make your heart skip a beat or two.

as the interview continues, unbeknown to you and the other two drivers who are making kissy faces at pretending to cradle a child in their arms just to tease you and how much lando was infatuated with the idea of kids with you, the camera pans in your direction to get a nice reaction shot to your boyfriend's words.

all they capture is your bright red face, from the teasing and lando blunt words, and the boys childish behaviour.

that night is then filled with lando teasing (and comforting) you as it was now your turn to get teased on twitter, millions of fans already making your reaction a meme. you knew you'd never live it down and a small part of you was excited to explain the video and reaction picture to those future kids.

[aajjks]

The Executioner (m)

synopsis. After all he was the only guy who would destroy everyone to protect you.

pairing. yandere jungkook x fem!reader.

warnings: vióléncé ánd gráphíc dépíctíóns óf hárm, psychólógícál ábúsé, mánípúlátíón., dárk thémes óf révéngé ánd páín., déscríptíóns óf ínténsívé cáréss, térrór, ánd prófánítý, mátúré lángúágé (prófánítý) ánd viólént áctíóns, YÁNDÈRÈ, RÈVÈNGÈ, 18+, búllyíng.

note. This is heavily heavily inspired by the glory, a.k.a. the Korean drama, which is a masterpiece so everyone should watch it I found this GIF on Pinterest so credit to the real owner and I just want to see on a serious note that if you’re ever being bullied, you have to stand up for yourself and no one deserves that kind of torture. So be kind. And if this flops? that is completely OK I just wrote this because I suddenly felt inspired. ENJOY BUT READ OUT YOUR OWN RISK.

•••

You stand in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection. It doesn’t look like you anymore.

The girl who used to cry alone at night?

Gone.

The girl who allowed people to walk all over her? Gone. Now, you are something else. Something stronger. Something darker.

They break you. They shatter you, piece by piece.

The mocking laughter, the cruel jokes, the whispered insults— they still echo in your head.

Every memory of their cruelty makes your blood boil.

You promise yourself that one day, you’ll make them pay. But you don’t just want revenge.

No, you want them to suffer. You want to watch them burn.

And Jungkook? He’s been there the entire time. Watching. Waiting. You thought he was just another guy—

Sweet, charming, maybe even caring, but you were wrong.

Jungkook’s darkness runs deeper than you could’ve ever imagined.

It all starts the night you break down.

You can’t take it anymore. You’re ready to end it, to just walk away from the world.

But Jungkook’s there, waiting. He pulls you into his arms, whispers soft promises into your ear.

“I’ll make them pay,” he says, his voice like a knife slicing through the tension. “We’ll make them suffer together.”

And you believe him. You should’ve been scared, but all you feel is relief.

Maybe it’s because you see the darkness in his eyes, the same darkness you’ve buried deep inside yourself. Maybe it’s because he understands.

Together, you’ll take them all down.

The first target is always going to be Minji. She’s the one who started it all.

That fucking bitch will pay.

the one who laughed the loudest when you were at your lowest.

She’s the one who makes you feel like dirt. Jungkook knows exactly how to make her suffer without touching her.

His mind is brilliant, twisted in the best way possible.

“We start with rumors,” he whispers late one night as you both sit together, planning. “Small lies. Just enough to get her paranoid.”

You don’t question it. You just watch as he works.

The first lie isn’t even about her—

it’s about her family. Jungkook makes sure to tell a trusted friend that Minji’s father’s involved in shady business deals.

The seed’s planted, and it spreads quickly. But it doesn’t stop there. Jungkook finds out every little detail about her. The places she goes.

The things she says. The people she talks to. It’s easy to turn them into whispers, into whispers that will ruin her life.

It only takes a few days for Minji to start looking over her shoulder, her confidence slowly eroding as the whispers grow louder.

You see the change in her eyes when she walks past you in the hallway.

The panic. The fear.

She doesn’t know who to trust anymore. Her friends start distancing themselves, not because they think she’s guilty, but because the rumors make them second-guess everything.

You feel the cracks forming. You feel her starting to unravel. And it feels good.

Jungkook’s eyes are dark with satisfaction as he watches her fall apart. “Isn’t it beautiful?” he whispers, his voice dripping with malice.

You don’t even have to respond. You just watch, enjoying every moment of her pain.

“Do you think she’s figured it out?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Not yet,” Jungkook answers, a grin spreading across his face. “But soon. She’ll beg for mercy when it all crashes down on her.”

The next target? Taehyun. That piece of shit who humiliated you in front of the whole school.

The one who laughed while everyone else joined in. Jungkook doesn’t have to say much. You know what needs to be done.

“You want to destroy him?” Jungkook asks, his voice quiet but laced with something dangerous.

“I’ll make him lose everything. We’ll start with his reputation, and then we’ll break him. Piece by piece.”

You can’t help but smile, a dark thrill running through your veins. Taehyun won’t see this coming.

Jungkook’s method is brilliant.

He tells one of Taehyun’s closest friends that Taehyun’s been cheating on his girlfriend.

A small, subtle lie, but enough to set things in motion.

Then, he plants more seeds. He makes sure Taehyun sees a text message from his supposed lover—something that’s carefully worded to stir up doubt.

It isn’t just the girl, though. Jungkook spreads rumors about Taehyun’s family, his past, things that could make anyone question their loyalty.

The next day,

Taehyun’s world comes crashing down. His girlfriend confronts him, furious, demanding answers.

His friends turn on him, unsure if they can trust him. The more Taehyun tries to fight back, the more the whispers grow. It isn’t just about the girl anymore. It’s about his character, his integrity.

Everything he’s worked so hard to build is falling apart, and he can’t stop it.

Taehyun finds you in the hallway, his face red with anger. “You think you can destroy me?” he spits, his eyes wild.

“You and your little boyfriend. You’ll regret this.”

You chuckle darkly, stepping closer. “You’re too late for regrets.”

Jungkook’s hand rests on your shoulder, his presence calming in a way, but also dangerous.

Taehyun looks at him, his eyes widening as he sees the madness in Jungkook’s gaze. Jungkook’s lips curl into a smile, but there’s nothing kind in it.

“You should’ve stayed quiet,” Jungkook whispers, his voice low and full of venom. “Now you’ve made it personal.”

Taehyun backs off, his confidence shattered, but it doesn’t matter anymore. He’s done.

The third target is Jiwoo. The girl who always thinks she’s better than you.

The girl who humiliated you just for the fun of it. She’s the last one you need to break.

Jungkook’s plan is simple: break her mentally. Make her think she’s being hunted.

He starts small—text messages that make her think someone’s stalking her.

I know what you did. I’m watching you.

At first, it’s nothing more than a few strange messages. But soon, Jiwoo’s paranoia starts to take over.

She can’t leave her house without looking over her shoulder. She can’t sleep without checking her windows.

Jungkook makes sure her fear is constant. Her world is falling apart, and there’s nothing she can do to stop it.

You watch her crack, and it’s delicious.

She tries to confront you one day in the hallway, shaking with fear. “You think you’re so clever, huh?”

Jiwoo spits, but her voice cracks halfway through. “You think you can just destroy me like you did with the others?”

You laugh softly, stepping forward with a smile. “Oh, honey. You’re already destroyed. You just don’t know it yet.”

Her eyes narrow. “You can’t do this! I’ll make you pay for this!”

You pause for a moment, then laugh again. “I’m sorry, Jiwoo, but this is just the beginning. You really think I’m afraid of you? You should’ve kept your mouth shut when you had the chance.”

Jungkook steps behind you, his eyes burning with a fire that makes Jiwoo back up instinctively.

He doesn’t even look at her, just stares ahead, his presence enough to crush her will.

“Your life’s already over. It’s just… no one’s told you yet.”

Jiwoo’s face turns pale as she stumbles back. Her fight is gone. She has nothing left.

And then comes the final step. The last target is everyone. Every single person who ever made you feel small. Every person who thought they could walk all over you and get away with it.

Jungkook’s plan is grand. He orchestrates everything, using all the pain and darkness to his advantage.

He spreads lies. He creates chaos. He makes sure that every person who has ever wronged you knows what it feels like to lose everything.

Their reputations are torn apart. Their relationships destroyed. Their lives shattered.

And you? You stand by his side. You’re no longer the victim. You’re the one who makes it all happen.

But even as the revenge consumes you, you can’t ignore the way Jungkook looks at you.

His eyes are always on you, his gaze dark and intense.

You can feel his obsession growing, feeding off the chaos you both create. It’s intoxicating. You need it. You need him.

One night, after the last of your enemies is taken down, you find yourself alone with Jungkook.

His eyes are fixed on you, his body close. The air is thick with tension.

“We’ve done it,” he whispers, his voice filled with satisfaction. “They’re all gone. It’s just us now.”

You feel the heat between you rise. His hand slides to your waist, pulling you toward him.

His lips hover over yours, and you can feel the weight of the moment, the culmination of everything you’ve done together.

“Just us,” you murmur.

He kisses you then, fierce and consuming.

His hands tangle in your hair as his lips bruise yours, claiming you in a way that feels both like salvation and destruction. It’s everything—the revenge, the passion, the hunger.

You lose yourself in it, in him.

When you pull away, you’re both breathless. But this is just the beginning.

“Together,” Jungkook whispers, his voice raw.

“Forever.”

•••

It had all started when you least expected it.

You were a victim of the world around you—silent, unnoticed, walking the halls of your school with your head down, trying to avoid attention.

The insults, the whispered names, the cold stares from people who didn’t even know you—

they were all part of your daily routine. You had learned to live with it. It was easier than trying to fight it.

But on that day, something shifted. It started with Jungkook.

You didn’t know him. Not really. He was just another guy who’d somehow managed to rise above everyone else.

The guy who seemed to have it all— charisma, popularity, a smile that could charm the world.

He was everything you weren’t. And, to be honest, you hated him for it at first.

Why should someone like him care about someone like you?

The first time he spoke to you, you thought it was just another joke.

It was the kind of thing people did when they wanted to make someone feel awkward, to point out how out of place you were.

But Jungkook didn’t look at you with pity like everyone else did. He looked at you with… understanding.

His eyes were sharp, not soft like those who tried to make you feel better.

No, his gaze was intense, focused. It made your stomach twist.

He had caught you off guard that day in the hallway. His hand had settled on your shoulder so suddenly, you flinched.

Your first instinct was to shrug it off, push him away, tell him to go back to his crowd of popular, perfect friends.

But he didn’t let you. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence like a wall you couldn’t escape.

“Hey,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “You alright?”

You weren’t. You were never alright. But you weren’t about to let him see that. You barely knew him. Hell, you didn’t even want to.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, your voice thin.

His eyes narrowed, not in anger, but in curiosity. “Are you?”

You hesitated, swallowing the lump in your throat. The truth was, you wanted someone to ask. But you also hated the idea of being vulnerable.

It was a weakness.

And weakness, in your world, was something to be exploited.

“I’m fine,” you repeated, with a little more conviction this time, though it didn’t stop the shaking in your hands.

Jungkook didn’t buy it. Of course,

he didn’t.

“You’re lying,” he said simply, his tone not judgmental, but certain.

It wasn’t the accusation that bothered you— it was the fact that he could see right through you, like your facade wasn’t even worth the effort.

His words hit too close to home, but you refused to let him know that.

You opened your mouth to argue, to tell him to leave you alone, but for some reason, the words caught in your throat.

You couldn’t explain it, but something about him stopped you.

Something in the way he looked at you made you want to tell him everything, to unravel the tightly wound mess inside of you.

But that was insane, wasn’t it?

Why would you trust him? Why would you trust anyone?

“I’m fine,” you said again, almost pleading with yourself to believe it.

He watched you for a beat too long, and then, surprisingly—he smiled. It wasn’t some fake, pitying grin like the others. No, it was a smile that almost seemed… understanding.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” he said quietly. “I know what it feels like.”

You blinked, thrown off guard. “What?”

Jungkook shrugged, his eyes darkening slightly. “I know what it’s like. To be invisible. To be the one everyone picks on. To be ignored… hurt… because you’re not what people want you to be.”

The words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you just stared at him, trying to piece together what he was saying.

Was he messing with you? Was this some twisted joke? You didn’t know.

��I don’t believe you,” you finally said, taking a step back, wanting to put some space between you.

But Jungkook didn’t move. He stood there, looking at you with the same steady gaze.

“It’s true,” he said simply, almost like a promise. “I’ve been where you are. I still am. I’m not like the rest of them.”

That�� made you pause. You didn’t know what to think. Was he just some rich kid playing at empathy?

Or was there something real in his words?

“I can’t help you,” you said, not because you didn’t want it, but because you were terrified of what it would mean. “You don’t know me.”

“You don’t have to trust me,” Jungkook replied, his voice low but firm. “But I can help you. And I want to. If you’ll let me.”

The doubt you felt was overwhelming. You had been burned too many times, left alone when you thought people cared.

No one had ever really seen you.

No one had ever truly understood what it was like to feel completely alone, to feel like you were nothing more than a shadow in a room full of people.

And yet… Jungkook’s offer felt different. He wasn’t offering to fix you. He wasn’t offering some false comfort. It was something darker, something raw that you couldn’t push away.

He understood the pain.

Maybe that’s why you didn’t push him away, why you didn’t shut him down completely.

But you couldn’t trust him. Not yet.

“So, what do you want from me?” you asked, your voice rough, a sharp edge to it.

Jungkook tilted his head, his eyes still intense. “Nothing, not yet. But I’ve been watching. I’ve seen how they treat you. How they treat people like you. And I won’t stand for it.”

You couldn’t tell if he was serious or if it was just some weird power play.

But there was something in the way he said it, something in his eyes that made you pause.

“You want to take them down?” you asked, more to yourself than to him.

He nodded slowly, a glint of something dangerous in his expression. “Yeah. But it’s not just about them. It’s about making them regret ever thinking they could do this to you.”

You looked away, unsure whether to be terrified or relieved. Maybe it was a little bit of both. “Why?”

“Because I don’t like seeing people get crushed under the weight of others. And I think you’ve been crushed long enough.”

The sincerity in his voice surprised you.

Maybe it was the fact that he had seen something in you that no one else had.

Maybe it was the darkness in his eyes that mirrored your own pain. You didn’t know.

But you couldn’t deny it anymore.

“Fine,” you said, your voice steady but unsure. “I’ll let you help me. But don’t think you’re saving me. I can handle this on my own.”

Jungkook’s smile softened, and for the first time, it felt like he wasn’t playing some game.

“I never said I was saving you. I’m just helping you get what you deserve.”

And that’s when you knew. It wasn’t about saving you—it was about destroying them.

Together.

[parkerslatte]

Relaxation

Bang Chan x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: none. just pure fluff.

Summary: When Chan doesn’t show up to a movie night planned with Y/N, she gets worried, afraid that he is overworking himself again. When he stumbles home three hours after he said he would, Y/N takes matters into her own hands to get him to relax.

Requested: Yes

Stray Kids Masterlist

Four hours had passed since the last message from Chan was sent and the time he said he would be home went and gone. The messages she had sent an hour ago had been left unread and there was a fight within Y/N to send another one– or three. 

In the two years they had been together, Y/N was never considered the clingy one in their relationship– everyone knew that that role was reserved for Chan. He would almost always be the one who initiated physical contact. He would always be the one who would reach out first to call her just to hear about her day no matter how boring it was. Of course Y/N initiated these things too but not to the degree of Chan. Despite how much she would always joke that he was too clingy, it always melted Y/N's heart at his constant affection towards her. 

Typically Y/N would send everything she wanted to say in one long text message, perhaps a second if she forgot any information in the first. Now as she sent three more messages she let out a long sigh and glanced over to the preparations she had made for the night she and Chan had planned. 

The date night was spontaneous. It was only planned that morning when they woke up at the same time in the same bed for the first time in weeks. A movie night with both of their favourite snacks was a perfect idea to end their week and allow for both of them to relax. 

Tearing her eyes away from her phone screen, Y/N stood to her feet and grabbed one of Chan’s jackets. She knew exactly where he would be at this hour. There were only ever a few places he would be. Two of them crossed out as she was already in one of the places and he would’ve stupid to go to her apartment when he knew she wasn’t there. 

There was no anger within Y/N at Chan forgetting their plans, if she even had half of the work Chan needed to do, she would have forgotten in an instant. The only emotion that was slowly creeping up Y/N’s spine was worry. It was only a recent development in Chan’s life that he was able to take time for himself and find a healthy life and work balance. It had been a while since Chan had slipped back into his ‘work until I pass out’ mindset and Y/N was insistent that he didn’t slip back into it again. 

Y/N shoved her phone into the jacket pocket and swung open the bedroom door and she took a small step back in surprise at Chan standing the other side. There was exhaustion evident on his face and in his body language. Despite this, he still mustered up the energy to offer Y/N a fond smile at the sight of her dressed in his clothes. 

However the smile immediately dropped upon seeing the slight worried frown forming between Y/N’s eyebrows. 

“What’s wrong?” Chan questioned, carefully setting his bag on the floor before his hands clasped Y/N’s hands in his own. 

“I’m worried about you,” Y/N said bluntly, she was never one to sugarcoat when things worried her– especially when they involved Chan.

A long sigh left Chan as he looked at their clasped hands. “I’m sorry I worried you, but–”

“Chan, I know that you were busy working and you lost track of time,” Y/N began as she removed her hands from his and slowly pushed him towards his bed until he was sitting down. “And just before you begin apologising about missing our date night– because I know you will– just know that I don’t care about that. What I care about is you getting some rest and allowing your brain to switch off for a few hours.”

“I’ll let it switch off–”

“Good.”

“-- after I finish what I was working on before Changbin and Han forced me to come home,” Chan finished. 

There was a heavy silence in the room as Y/N looked down at Chan sitting on the edge of the bed. He was trying and failing to hide how tired he actually was. It was as if he were fighting to keep his eyes open and stay upright on the bed. 

“No,” Y/N said softly, cupping Chan’s face. 

Despite his protests, Chan leaned into her touch. “Y/N, I need—“

“What you need is to rest and go to sleep,” Y/N interrupted. “Chan, you look exhausted and you aren’t fit to continue to work.”

Another sight left Chan as he leant his head on Y/N’s stomach and wrapped his arms around her. Y/N’s hand tangled in his hair as she felt his body relax in her hold. There were no other words exchanged as the atmosphere shifted in the room and it was as if all the stress that was pressing down on Chan’s shoulders faded, leaving behind only the comfort that Y/N brought him. 

Y/N wasn’t sure how long she remained standing with Chan’s arms wrapped around her– at one point she was certain that he had fallen asleep. It wasn’t until Chan shifted his head so he was now looking up at her with a tired smile that Y/N realised he was still awake. 

“I love you,” Chan muttered. 

Y/N smiled and cupped his cheeks with the uttermost affection. The way he always leaned into her touch always melted her heart. “I love you too,” she replied, leaning down to connect her lips with his in a sweet kiss. 

Y/N could feel the smile Chan’s lips formed the moment their lips connected and his arms fully circled her waist. Once she was securely in his arms, Chan simply leaned back allowing Y/N to gently fall to his chest, their lips never disconnected once. 

Slowly, Chan’s hands drifted up her back to cup the back of her head, attempting to deepen the kiss. However before he could try, Y/N pushed herself up from him causing him to grunt at the queen pressure on his chest. 

“Where are you going?” he pouted. 

“Taking off the jacket so we can go to sleep,” Y/N replied, hanging the jacket back up while Chan remained laying on the edge of the bed. 

“What about our movie night?” Chan asked. 

“We can do it another night,” Y/N said, sitting down on the bed next to Chan. “You won’t make it past five minutes once we get comfortable.”

“That’s not–” Chan cut himself off as he let out a big yawn. 

 “See.” Y/N smiled at him, huffing a laugh. “And I’m honestly quite tired too so I just want to get under the covers to sleep.”

As Y/N crawled under the covers Chan lazily stood to his feet, quickly discarding his jacket in favour of changing into more comfortable clothes. Soon after he joined Y/N under the covers, easily pulling her body to his chest. His warm skin pressed against hers sending a pleasurable shiver down her spine. She nuzzled closer to him, wrapping her arms around his torso. 

“We can have our movie night tomorrow,” Chan mumbled. “We can have a movie day.”

“What about your work?” Y/N questioned. 

“I can finish it after tomorrow,” Chan replied. “Tomorrow I want to just relax with you all day. This is nice.”

Y/N pressed a gentle kiss to the skin where Chan’s neck met his shoulder. She didn’t reply and she didn't need to as Chan pressed a kiss to her forehead, letting his lips linger before he pulled away. Y/N smiled and allowed her eyes to close, allowing herself to drift off to sleep listening to Chan’s soft breathing and the steady beat of his heart– a song only she would ever hear. 

[blossomarlia]

hi, could you write a drabble with reader x remus where she rlly struggles with getting involved or going to hang out with people without explicitly being invited (just feeling really worried about being rejected) and he kind of reassures her and looks after her?

hi, thanks for this request! hope you enjoy, i generally don't write school-aged drabbles but thought this fit the best.

summary: your fear of being rejected stops you from joining your friends, but remus reassures you

remus x fem! reader (implied early stages romance)

Sitting by one of the fireplaces in the Gryffindor common room, you’re wondering how many of the people around you have exchanged glances over the top of your head. You can almost feel judgement thickening the air, raised eyebrows and confused smiles that ask why is she even here? To be honest, the only reason that you haven’t moved away is that you were technically sitting here first, and the rest of them milled in and took their spots nearby- then again, was it purposeful, your taking a place on one of the sofas they often use? In hindsight it’s just embarrassing. They must be assuming that you sat down just so they’d have no choice but to talk to you. 

You know you’re expecting the worst of this group, none of whom particularly deserve it. The flock of seventh-years surrounding you are generally a good bunch; Lily, Sirius, Marlene, Mary, Peter, James, Remus, and Dorcas,. You want to be one of them more than  you want most other things, which is somewhat pathetic and completely obvious in the way you’re always hanging around. They may all be lovely, and your friends (to some extent), but you know how irritating it can be if there’s always someone not quite in the group hanging around.

You should leave. Get up and make some comment about homework, or whatever, and wait for absolutely nobody to stop you. It’s kinder to everybody. Isn’t it?

Lost in your thoughts, you miss what Lily says next, and then they’re all getting to their feet. You give what you hope is a casual smile, simultaneously relieved of your spiralling and disappointed that they’re fulfilling your expectations.

There’s a tap on your shoulder- Remus, your favourite, whose hair has grown out over Christmas and now curls over his ears. He seems to get taller and lovelier with every passing moment. It’s difficult to make eye contact.

“We’re heading to the greenhouses, did you hear?” He says quietly, hand stilling instead of pulling away. You press your lips together and nod, carefully hiding any sort of misplaced hurt. It’s not as if you’re entitled to an invitation.

“Alright, I’ll see you later!” Too enthusiastic.

His brows pinch together. “You’re not coming?”

You look up at the others, who are collecting scarves and bags on their way to the portrait-hole. How can you admit to Remus that you don’t think they want you along? How can you tell him, anyone, that you’re far too afraid of being made fun of, or becoming a joke within their tight-knit group, to risk it?

“Oh, I don’t know. I have heaps of homework.”

“You do?” He raises his eyebrows. You feel caught, despite not having been accused of any sort of lie. “I thought you finished it all yesterday.”

You’d been studying when he and Lily joined you, and all day you’ve been wondering why they chose to. You probably put a but too much value on people choosing to sit next to you in class or during study; it’s unlikely that it was more than an absence of other free tables.

“...Some, yeah. And I wouldn’t want to- you know, I wouldn’t…” You trail off and give an awkward laugh. Remus’ gentle expression is making the inside of your mouth hurt.

“What?” You’re not used to your excuses mattering so much. Mostly, you mutter something and disappear to your dorm in time to avoid any drama. Is he feeling guilty, awkward about having made plans as a group in front of someone else? You cringe at the notion of Remus realising how friendless you probably are, of his pity. 

You know it’s your own fault for being like this. You’ve had friends in the past- cool, funny, popular, attractive- who frequently left you out on purpose. A drunken conversation in fifth year revealed that you were tolerable at best, a joke at worst. Always pushing in and so desperate for invitations that to extend them could only be ironic. 

You think about that more often than you should. You’re constantly hyperaware of how tolerable you are, sure that you’ll say or do something which will make everyone else realise exactly why you’re not in any particular group. You can’t let that happen yet with all these people, so full of love for one another that even proximity to them feels like the experience of it. Still, they’re teenagers. Judgement is an automatic response, and Remus is clever in the way he jokes. He’ll retell this conversation to roaring laughter if you reveal too much- not that he’s ever unkind, but you sort of invite a bad impression, you think.

“It’s really fine,” You assure him. “I’m tired. It’s cold, too.”

“Right,” He nods, glancing downwards. You think you’ve won (as much as you can win, here) until he turns to James and Peter and says, “I think we’re going to stay here. Bit chilly.”

What?

James frowns, making a sound of protest. “Moony!” His eyes fall to you next, and you look away, guilty and embarrassed. You’d never even considered that pity would drive Remus to actually stay here, and now they’ll all hate you. Nice job, very well handled.

Marlene is next. “‘Cas has just finished growing the Alihotsy plant, though. We’re all going.”

“It’s been weeks since we all had the evening off- or at least, since Potter and Black didn’t have a detention each,” Lily reasons more kindly. She receives twin protests from the boys on either side of her, but remains unbothered, adding, “It’d be nice to spend a bit more time as a group.”

You’re awfully close to tears. All you’d wanted was to relieve them of yourself, to retreat to your room and wait until somebody explicitly invited you somewhere (if ever), and now you’ve gone and ruined everybody’s evening. You turn to Remus, more urgent than is likely normal. “Please just go with them,” You say softly, aware that your voice is all wobbly. “I’m just going to go to bed, I don’t want to interrupt all of you catching up. Please, it’s really okay.”

There’s a brief silence that spans the entire crowd. They’ve all heard, are all likely attempting not to laugh. Remus is giving you an awful look. 

“...Are you okay, lovely?” Mary asks. You can’t look at her, can’t look at any of them, but you’ve always been alright at masking emotion in your voice when you really try. You force something like a smile.

“Yes! Yes, completely fine, I’m only tired. Post-holiday blues, maybe.” You laugh and it sounds terrible. “I’ve really only got to go to bed. You all have fun!” Silence again. 

“We might join you all in a bit,” Remus says firmly. There are a few worried noises of assent, and they all head off. Now, you do see them looking at one another, frowning and looking upset. Poor Remus, you imagine them saying on their way to the greenhouses, stuck looking after her while we all escape.

Remus asks you to sit down again three times before you agree, still rather set on going to bed so you won’t cry in front of the entire common-room.

“What’s making you so upset?” He asks softly, once he’s finally detained you. You blink quickly and cast a glance around at the other students in the common-room, afraid to embarrass yourself more than you already have, but he’s quick to assuage the fear. “I cast a muffliato when James began talking about the Alihotsy prank- ages ago. Nobody’s heard anything, I promise.”

You swallow harshly. “Oh. Thanks. I’m sorry I’m being so- so-”

“If I could,” Remus says, firm but kind, “This will be a lot easier if we can get to the problem, here, rather than whatever you think you’ve done wrong.”

“I- right. Okay. Um,” You stammer. “They’re not really mutually exclusive.” “Why don’t you want to come? Did somebody say something hurtful?” You look at him, slightly startled. “What? It’s not that I don’t want to.”

Remus seems perplexed, looking the way he does when he’s working out a particularly difficult exam question. “No?”

“No.” You twist your fingers together so tightly that they hurt. “No, it sounds fun, it just… it’s not as if I’m going to demand to be brought along, am I?” The joke falls flat. You think you already knew it would, but it’s still a bit embarrassing to laugh and be met with a concerned frown.

 You take a few longer breaths. You can fix this. You have to fix this. 

“Look, it’s kind of you to stay here, but like Lily said- you all have the night off. It’s really not so bad not to spend it as a group. I want you to go, really.” The next smile is easier. You’ve done this before, convinced people not to feel bad for you. 

“Why would you need to demand to be brought along?” Remus asks. “We made the plans while you were right here.”

“You all made plans together,” You explain slowly. “You know, having an evening to yourselves and that sort of thing. There’s no need for- you know, I’m honestly just tired. That’s probably why I’ve reacted so oddly, it’s my own fault.”

Remus looks at you for a long while, so intent that your skin gets prickly and uncomfortable. Eventually, he speaks, quiet and considered. “...You haven’t acted oddly if that’s how you’ve been feeling.”

“Tired?”

“No, excluded.” He says gently. “You really didn’t know you were invited?” You don’t answer with more than silence, and he sighs. 

“You were. You’re always invited, dove, of course you are.”

Trying not to get to hung up on impossibilities, you shake your head quickly. “It’d be a bit rude to assume that.”

“It wouldn’t.” Remus replies immediately. Then, “Dove, what are we going to do with you?” Entirely too much to comprehend. You’re glad he goes on. “Would you look at me for a moment, please?”

You want to ask him why, or refuse, or run up to your dormitory, but you do as he says. You wonder if he knows that he could ask you to do almost anything and you’d say yes, if he’ll only keep looking at you with his coffee-coloured eyes.

“All of us- we want you to come along, wherever we are. You’re important to lots of people. Do you understand that?” “I- I just don’t want to push myself in.” You say, mortified.

“You aren’t. You’re being pulled, if anything, yeah?” His lips quirk. “When Lily said those things about spending time as a group, she meant you, too. If somebody said something that made you think otherwise, I’ll-”

“Nobody said anything,” You tell him feebly. This is all rather a lot to take in. “I think… maybe it’s more that nobody’s said I am invited, or a part of- I don’t know, it’s all sort of stupid.”

“No it’s not,” Remus disagrees. He pinches your chin quickly between thumb and forefinger, frowning again. Mary once commented that Remus would look sixty by the time you all left school, with all his worrying wrinkles. “Not stupid, but it’s not very kind to yourself, either. Why shouldn’t we want you around?”

You open your mouth and close it at his raised eyebrow. “Rhetorical question?” 

“Rhetorical question.” He confirms amusedly. “There’s no point arguing, because we do. I do. I wish you wouldn’t think otherwise.”

“I’ve only been friends with all of you for a little while, though. You’ve all been mates since first-year.” At that, Remus outright scoffs. “Have we, now?” 

You shrug. 

“James and Lily always liked each other, then? Dorcas didn’t only just start hanging around us as well?” You look down, and he sighs. “However long everybody’s known one another, the most important bit is that we all like each other, yeah? It wouldn’t matter whether we became mates at eleven or two days ago- we’re friends. Or- you know.”

You definitely don’t know, but you’re going red anyway. He was definitely talking about Lily and James- that’s all he meant by ‘you know’. Isn’t it?

Remus scratches the back of his head, quiet for another second. Then, “...Why don’t we go down to the greenhouses? We’ll stick together the whole time, you’ll not be sat by yourself again.”

“I don’t want to make you babysit.”

Remus tsks, expression becoming sterner for a moment. “Don’t think that way about yourself. I’m asking because I want you to come- it’s not worth going if you aren’t there.”

The long moment it takes for you to decipher whether he’s only being nice or if that’s the truth is enough for Remus to decide that you don’t really have a choice in the matter. Tugging you to your feet, and seeming taller than ever with your proximity, he winds his own scarf around your neck and pushes some hair behind your hear. You let him, mostly because you’re too surprised to do anything about it.

“Let’s go, before they all decide to try some of the Alihotsy themselves. Gloves?”

You manage a nervous giggle, putting your mittens on when he hands them to you. “Thanks.”

“That’s alright. Come on,” He gives you a crooked sort of smile. It’s sometimes difficult to tell if Remus is aware how good-looking he is. 

The entire group are far too enthusiastic at yours and Remus’ arrival fifteen minutes later, given the fact that it’s hardly been half an hour since they left. Either way, you’re quickly pulled into a squabble between Lily and James about- as Remus predicted- the logic of trying some Alihotsy for themselves. 

“Thank Merlin you came, you’re the only one who won’t be completely daft about this!” Lily says, linking her arm in yours. You smile before catching Remus’ eye and looking down, feeling yourself flush. Smug bastard, you think fondly.

It’s an entire two hours before everyone heads back up to the castle, having thoroughly violated curfew but without (to James and Sirius’ chagrin) having tested any of the plant which would induce hysterical laughter. You find yourself walking beside the tallest of the group in comfortable silence, a few steps behind the rest.

“Thanks for making me come with you,” You say, perhaps a little more earnestly than you ought. “It was really nice.”

“‘Course, dove.” You look up at Remus to find he’s already looking at you. He clears his throat, glancing over at Sirius and Marlene where they’re pretending to push each other into the snow. It’s likely to end in one of them following through and the other swearing eternal hatred. “We’re all glad you came along. Could even make a habit of it.”

You exhale a laugh. “Maybe.”

He gives you a sideways look. “Oh, ‘maybe’, is it?” “...Conceivably?” You grin, darting away when he grabs at you and sort of wishing you’d stayed still just to see what he’d do. Remus fixes you with a teasing glare.

“Watch it, sweetheart.”

You blink, choking on words for a minute. Sweetheart? Sweetheart!? Sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheartsweetheartsweetheartsweetheart-

“You alright?” 

“Yeah!” You say, too quickly. Remus misreads your flusteredness as something else and softens, taking hold of your sleeve and tugging you towards him. You go easily.

“If it’ll help,” He says thoughtfully, “You can ask me if you’re invited to things. Or I’ll just tell you. Then you won’t have to go to the trouble of assuming either way.”

You like him so, so much. “That’s really nice of you, Remus.”

“Eh,” He shrugs. “You know me.”

Now, it’s harder not to smile than anything else. “I don’t want you to go to any trouble. It’s really my problem, I shouldn’t-”

“Enough,” He interrupts gently. “Just say yes, dove, if it’ll help. I won’t be unhappy either way.”There are several places within you, the more unkind parts, that say accepting his offer would be like accepting pity. But there are also places that are warmed at the thought, that remember how people reacted when you arrived in the greenhouse, that can start imagining a reality wherein nobody hated your presence by the sofas tonight, and those bits win the argument for the first time in a very long time. You look up at Remus, his soft eyes and fluffy hair dusted with snow, and nod.

[hotchnersangel]

SPORTS CAR

Aaron Hotchner.

a/n: obsesseddddd w this song and Hotch recently soooo… first upload pls don’t judge me ok ily

warnings: allusions to sex, age-gap, richhhh hotch (yummy), idrk what else just enjoy.

Seeing the bau in casual clothing felt foreign, it was such an odd feeling to see the professionals you spend majority of your hours in the day with less professional and more… humane. More so with Aaron Hotchner, the teams unit chief. Goddamn was he a vision in his suits, but my god, you never knew how much you needed to see him in jeans.

The bau had planned a day out together, to create some time and memories not involving horrific crimes. They arranged to meet at Rossi’s mansion and so thats where you were, gathered outside chatting to Em and Rossi when a sleek all black sports car rolls into his driveway, you eye it skeptically, expecting Morgan to appear but when it stops and you see who gets out, you freeze.

Aaron Hotchner, in jeans, like you were, strolling up to the group of you. Rossi and Emily whistling as he neared, pressing the lock button without even looking. The breath was knocked out of your chest, damn that was hot. His sunglasses perched perfectly on his face.

“Damn Hotch, sweet ride.” Emily praises, gawking at the car.

“Thank you,” he says courteously, nodding at her.

“I think i need some of this pay check you’re getting,” you joke, smirking at him. He looks so very rich right now.

“We don’t have a large difference, darling.” He shoots nonchalantly, crossing his arms as he stands opposite you.

“Honey,” you shoot back giving him a look, “I certainly don’t have the disposable income for this baby.” You admire the car.

“I can give you a ride later if you’d like,” he shrugs casually, “I’ll drop you home.”

You agree, no way are you declining a ride involving Hotch.

After a lovely evening spent with the team, you were content and happy with the outcome of your day. Though you couldn’t stop thinking about Hotch, every time he spoke, everytime he laughed, when he smiled you had to squeeze your thighs together subtly. The evening drew to a close and Aaron continued his offer to give you a lift home.

You walk out of Rossi’s mansion and follow Hotch to his car. He opens the door for you. “After you, ma’am.”

You bite your lip as you get in, looking around at the luxurious interior which somehow even felt humble despite this car being worth more than your apartment probably. “I feel extra luxurious today. A mansion, a sports car, i could get used to this.”

He smirks as he gets in, turning the engine on. “The FBI has clearly been doing well this year.” He jokes and you huff a laughter.

“I never thought you were the type for a sports car,” you say, looking over at him. He looks back.

“How come?” He implies, his hand on the gears, making you salivate a bit more than usual. “Hm?”

“You just- you’re so rich and you never show it.” You shrug, looking how dangerously close his hand is to your thigh.

He laughs, genuinely laughs. “It was my dream car as a kid, I thought if i could buy at least one thing for selfish reasons- it can be this.”

“Damn right, it’s hot.” You say boldly.

“The car? Or me?” He smirks and catches your eye again as he pulls into a drive through. “See, I’m keeping humble.”

“You.” You breathe out and look as he enters the drive through.

“What do you want, pretty lady?” He asks you with a smirk.

You order your meals and sit in the parking lot, an isolated lot but he still parks in the shadows. You sit and eat your meals, occasionally looking over at Hotch who keeps stealing dips from your sauce. One time however, he spills it on the seat of your chair.

“Fuck, Hotch.” You panic, getting ready to apologise.

“No worries, I’ll get it cleaned.” He says calmly, counteracting your panic.

“But-“

“It’s literally my mess, sweetheart.” He gives you a pointed look and smirks.

“Well, now i have to sit in the sauce.” You shoot sassily and he smirks.

“There’s hardly anything on it.”

“Yeah there is,” you point at it and shift in your seat. “Guess we will have to share one seat.” You smirk at him, his eyes darkening.

“We can share one seat, honey.” He moves his food out of the way, patting his lap. You smirk as you climb over the centre console and straddle his waist, resting all your weight on your knees. His hands grip your waist and slowly make their way to your face, sensually dragging over your sides. Your knees go weak, losing all composure which makes you drop onto his lap. Your core touching his. At this, you both let out a sigh.

“Fuck.” You sigh, moving your hands to his chest. “Cute jeans by the way.” You smirk at him.

“Thank you.” He nods curtly, pulling you closer.

You arch your back until you’re close to his ear. “Take mine off me.”

You pull back, biting your lip. His eyes widen with surprise at your boldness, but soon fade into a large smirk as his hands move into your hair. “You want this?”

You nod desperately, not meaning to come across so needy. “For a while.”

“Me too, baby.” He says pulling you closer to him and brushing his lips against yours. The kiss started soft and emotionally connected but soon turned passionate. His hands move over your spine and then back into your hair, pulling it into a ponytail then tugging at it. This action made you gasp into the kiss where he then let his tongue slip into your mouth.

You both pull away for some air and he looks up at you, “you wanna do this here?”

You bite your lip and nod. “I don’t care, in the alley, in the back- in the center of a room, with all of these windows rolled down.”

He looks up at you, pecking your lips. “And which would you prefer, darling?”

“Boy, don’t make me choose.” You retort, giving him a look and he pulls you closer by your top.

“I’m far from a boy darling,” he looks into your eyes.

“Show me then.” You retort.

He pulls you back into a kiss, his hands falling down your back, groping at the skin until they fall on the lower side and push you forwards, his hands resting on your behind, occasionally groping at the skin. You let out a small moan into the kiss and he stops.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” He mumbles but doesn’t move.

“Have you got a girlfriend or something?” You shoot back, concerned to his answer at the positioning of you over his hardened crotch and the tight grip he has on your ass.

“No.”

“So you ain’t got no Mrs? What is holding you back then?” You ask, whispering in his ear again and placing a kiss on his neck. He sighs at the feeling.

“I’m your boss.” He says and you kiss his neck again.

“Mhm,” you hum into his skin and you gently suck at the skin.

“I’m almost double your age.” He states, and you don’t pull back but more desperately lapse your tongue on the skin.

“Carry on…”

“It’s inappropriate.”

“I sure hope it is.” You giggle against his side earning a stifled laugh.

“I’m serious. I think you just think you want this, but you won’t actually.” He says seriously.

“Yet your hand is still groping my arse.” You say looking at him. “I think you wanna…” you trail off and roll your hips over his, grinding against his clothed erection.

You both let out a strangled moan, realising how much you are in need of this.

“Unless… you wanna do it on your own while you’re looking at me.” You look up at him innocently and flutter your eyelashes.

You’re cut off by Aaron’s hands desperately pulling you closer and certainly there was a few rounds in this ride for you both.

————————

[zeroseuniverse]

Persistent Devotion

Word Count: 1.3K Summary: You groaned. “He was asking if I knew where the nearest convenience store was!” “Yeah, well, he looked too interested in your answer.” “San—” Pairing: San X Reader

Taglist: @zaycie @sh0dor1 @tinyelfperson @lezleeferguson-120 @haaruki @lcvejjoong

Navigation

You hadn’t meant to get involved.

It was just one of those impulsive things—San was outnumbered, and it wasn’t a fair fight. You weren’t a hero, but you also weren’t heartless. A well-timed distraction gave him the upper hand, and soon enough, his attackers were the ones limping away while he stood victorious, bloodied but grinning.

You expected a simple “thanks” and for life to move on.

What you got instead was a shadow.

San started showing up everywhere. Not in a creepy way—at least, not at first. He was just… there. Casually leaning against a wall when you left work. Grabbing a drink at the café you always went to. Taking the same train as you, even though you were fairly certain his stop was on the other side of town.

Then, it escalated.

“San.” You sighed, rubbing your temple.

“Hm?” He blinked at you, all faux innocence.

“You cannot just threaten a guy for saying hi to me.”

San scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “He wasn’t just saying hi.”

You groaned. “He was asking if I knew where the nearest convenience store was!”

“Yeah, well, he looked too interested in your answer.”

“San—”

“You should be thanking me,” he cut in, tilting his head. “What if he was planning something?”

You gave him an exasperated look. “Oh yes, because I live such a dangerous life.”

San’s expression darkened slightly, his usual teasing glint shifting into something unreadable. “You never know.”

Your frustration wavered. Sometimes, he joked about it, but there were moments—like now—where it felt like something deeper. As if the idea of something happening to you wasn’t just an excuse for his overprotectiveness but an actual fear he carried.

Your voice softened. “San, I don’t need a bodyguard.”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue. He just looked at you for a long moment, before sighing dramatically. “Fine.”

“…Fine?”

“Fine,” he repeated, shrugging. “I’ll tone it down.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Define ‘tone it down.’”

He smirked. “I’ll try not to scare people off.”

“San.”

“I said I’ll try.”

You huffed, but before you could argue further, San stepped closer, dropping his voice just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“But if anyone does try something?” He tilted his head. “They’ll have to deal with me.”

Your heartbeat stuttered.

Yeah. You had a feeling San’s version of “toning it down” still involved a lot of intimidation.

And maybe, just maybe… you didn’t mind that as much as you should.

You didn’t mean to smile.

Really, you didn’t.

But when San dropped his voice like that, with that slight smirk and the glint in his eye that made it clear he wasn’t bluffing, it sent a thrill through you—a flutter low in your stomach that you knew you shouldn’t be enjoying.

And he noticed. Of course, he did.

His head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing just a fraction. His smirk deepened, slow and smug. Like a predator catching the faintest scent of blood.

“Don’t tell me you like that.”

You scoffed, turning on your heel and starting down the sidewalk, trying to put some space between you and the dangerous glimmer in his eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

But the warmth lingering on your skin betrayed you. And he knew it.

San fell into step beside you with frustrating ease, his longer strides keeping pace effortlessly. His hands were still shoved into his pockets, his shoulders loose, but you could feel the weight of his gaze. Constant. Calculating.

“Mm.” He made a thoughtful sound, leaning in ever so slightly. “You’re walking kinda fast, sweetheart. Running from something?”

“San.” You shot him a warning look.

He grinned. “Or someone?”

You stopped in your tracks, spinning to face him, eyes narrowed. “You said you’d tone it down.”

“I am,” he argued with an exaggerated pout, leaning down so his face was only a breath away from yours. “See? No broken noses. No death threats. I’m on my best behavior.”

“Stalking me doesn’t count as good behavior.”

“‘Stalking’ is such a harsh word,” he drawled, feigning a look of mock offense. “I prefer persistent devotion.”

You blinked, unimpressed. “Persistent devotion?”

He gave a slow, deliberate nod. “Mhm. I’m very devoted, you know.”

There was no mistaking the meaning behind his words—the weight they carried. The casual charm in his voice was a thin veil, barely concealing something heavier, something darker.

Your throat dried. You weren’t sure if it was fear or thrill that made your pulse quicken.

“San…” Your voice came out softer than you intended, barely a whisper.

His eyes flickered—just a fraction. The playful glimmer dimmed, giving way to something more raw. Something real.

For the first time that night, he looked almost unsure. As if he was bracing for you to pull away.

But you didn’t.

Instead, your fingers grazed his wrist without thinking—light, fleeting, but enough.

He stilled completely.

His eyes dropped to where your fingers lingered against his pulse, then slowly dragged back up to meet yours. And just like that, the uncertainty vanished, replaced with something far more dangerous.

He stepped closer.

Not in a playful way.

Not in a teasing way.

But in a deliberate, claiming way.

Your breath caught as he brought his mouth next to your ear, his voice barely a murmur.

“Don’t look at me like that unless you’re ready for me to do something about it.”

Your fingers tightened slightly on his wrist. You should’ve let go. Should’ve stepped back.

But you didn’t.

And he noticed.

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, slow and deliberate, sending a shiver through you.

“You’re terrible at pretending you don’t want this,” he murmured, his lips grazing your skin as he spoke.

You clenched your jaw, refusing to let him see how easily he was unraveling you. But you couldn’t deny the way your body betrayed you—the way you leaned in just a little, your fingers still curled against him.

“Is that why you’re always watching me?” you whispered, fighting to keep your voice steady. “Because you think I want this?”

San pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes were dark, searching—less playful, more intent.

“No.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I watch you because I want this.”

And just like that, you were done for.

You didn’t notice when your back hit the brick wall of the nearest building. All you could register was the way San moved—slow, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. Like he was savoring the fact that you weren’t pushing him away.

His hands finally left his pockets, one coming to brace beside your head, caging you in, while the other traced along your waist with agonizing ease. Your breath hitched when his fingers brushed bare skin beneath your jacket.

“You should be scared of me,” he murmured, his mouth so close to yours that his breath ghosted over your lips. “You really should.”

You met his gaze, unflinching.

“I’m not.”

Something in his eyes flickered. The tension in his shoulders loosened slightly, but the intensity never wavered. Instead, he smiled faintly—a dangerous, lopsided thing.

“Then you’re a fool,” he muttered, right before his lips crashed against yours.

And you didn’t stop him.

You didn’t even hesitate.

Your hands were already curling into the fabric of his jacket, pulling him closer, matching his fervor without question. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him, and the low, guttural sound he made into your mouth nearly sent you reeling.

You could feel the desperation in the way he kissed you—the barely restrained need beneath it. The way he pressed into you like he was afraid you might slip through his fingers if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing was uneven, his forehead pressed against yours. His eyes were half-lidded, dark, and still so unbearably close.

His thumb brushed along your jaw, slow and reverent.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered, low and breathless. “You know that, right?”And you did.

You knew you should’ve been afraid of the certainty in his voice—the finality of it.

But you weren’t.

You were far too busy pulling him back in.

[seospicybin]

CAM.

FINAL CHAPTER

Hyunjin x reader. (s,a)

CAM MASTERLIST

Synopsis: Struggling to make ends meet as an art student, Hyunjin never expected his quiet neighbor to change everything. Rumored to be an adult content creator, you offer him a deal—help you with your content, and you’ll help with his financial troubles. What starts as a simple arrangement soon blurs into something more, pulling Hyunjin into a world he never imagined. (9,7k words)

Author's note: I want to thank you for following Cam series. It's been fun. Hope you enjoy this one too ♡

Hyunjin shuts the door behind him and doesn’t look back. Each step away from your apartment echoes louder in his head than the last. His chest feels tight, like he’s holding something back—like maybe he should’ve said more. Maybe he should’ve said anything else. But instead, he chose silence and walked away.

He tells himself it’s the right thing to do. That this is better. That he needs the space. That things were getting too tangled, too fast.

It’s just work, he reminds himself. You were helping me. I was helping you. That’s all it was supposed to be.

But the memory of your smile when you offered him lunch creeps in anyway. So does the look in your eyes when you asked if he was okay—genuine, soft, concerned. Too concerned. He could’ve told you the truth. That it wasn’t just about the job anymore. That he was starting to feel something he wasn’t sure he could handle.

Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten involved to begin with. Maybe he should’ve just focused on his art like he always planned. Still… he feels like he’s walking away from more than just work and that’s what scares him most.

Hyunjin spends the rest of the afternoon staring at the canvas. The brush is in his hand, the colors are ready, but the strokes come out hesitant. Disjointed. Aimless. He tells himself to focus—just paint, Hyunjin. Paint anything. And so, he does.

Slowly, shapes begin to form. A curve here. A slant there. He fills in the shadows, soft and warm, and before he realizes what he's doing, he’s painting you. Your eyes, the exact shade he remembers under the afternoon sun. Your lips, curled in a smile he can’t quite forget. Your skin, the way it glowed under the yellow light in the hallway when you said his name like it meant something. He doesn’t stop until your face is there, staring back at him and he hates it.

Not the painting. The painting is beautiful. But the fact that you’re still in his head—still under his skin.

That night, he lies in bed, restless. The room is quiet, save for the soft hum of the city outside his window. When he finally drifts off, you’re there again. In his dream, you're laughing. You're reaching for him. You're so close that he swears he can smell your perfume, feel the warmth of your fingertips tracing his wrist.

And when he wakes up, breath caught in his throat, the ghost of your touch still lingers on his skin.

-

You try to move on. You tell yourself it’s fine—that people quit all the time. That maybe he just got busy, overwhelmed, maybe school is catching up to him. You try to reason with yourself, even smile at the thought of him doing well without needing you. But the truth is, none of that makes you feel any better.

You can accept that Hyunjin doesn’t want to work with you anymore. What you can’t accept—what keeps tugging at your chest like a thread being pulled loose—is that he didn’t even give you a reason why.

No conversation. No explanation. Just that look on his face, distant and closed off, and the way he walked away like everything between you didn’t mean a thing.

You think about how his voice used to sound when he laughed at your stupid jokes. You think about his fingers—paint-stained and warm—fixing the lighting for your shoot like he actually cared. You think about the way his eyes used to linger on you, like he wanted to say something but never did.

Maybe it was all in your head. Maybe you wanted to believe he cared more than he actually did. You spiral—hard. The thoughts come in fast and loud. Of course he didn’t want to stay. Who would?

You sit on the edge of your bed, staring at your phone like it holds the answers. But there are no new messages. No calls. No missed anything. Just silence.

You tell yourself to move on. To focus. To film something. Edit. Call someone else to help. But none of it feels right. None of it feels like him. And maybe that’s the hardest part. Not that he left, but that he left you not knowing why.

Now you can’t stop thinking that maybe it’s not about work at all. Maybe he just doesn’t want anything to do with you. And maybe... he's right to feel that way.

The curtains are drawn, casting a muted gray over your apartment. You’ve been lying on the sofa for hours, curled up in the same position, the blanket barely clinging to your body as your phone keeps chiming over and over. You know what it is. You don’t even have to look.

Eventually, with a sigh, you reach over and swipe it off the table, the screen lighting up with a flood of notifications—all of them from Lustre.

You open the app. Your inbox is filled with flirty, suggestive messages. Compliments on your last post. Requests. Heart emojis. Tips. Offers. You scroll through them with your thumb, barely registering the words. Just eyes glazed over, searching, hoping—waiting—for one name to appear.

But it doesn’t. He’s not there. Not even a silent like. Not even a ghost view.

Your shoulders drop, a quiet, bitter laugh escaping your lips before you toss your phone aside. It lands on the cushion with a soft thud, screen dimming back to black. You drag yourself up, feet cold against the floor as you wander aimlessly around your apartment. It’s too quiet. Too still. And your mind feels just as noisy as it is empty.

As you walk past the makeshift studio, you pause. Something catches your eye. You lean against the doorway, arms crossed as you stare at it—the massive painting that takes up nearly half the back wall. The one you did with Hyunjin. The colors, bold and chaotic. Your brush strokes and his—blended, layered, messy. Your bodies had moved in sync, hands stained with paint, clothes ruined, laughter echoing as you danced around the canvas like kids. Then, the shoot after—bare skin streaked with color, flashes of camera light, his hand warm against your hip as he adjusted the lens.

You remember how proud he was of that piece. The way you both collapsed on the floor after, cracking open cold drinks, toasting with paint-smeared fingers. The initials you both scrawled in the corner, still visible beneath a smudge of deep blue. It was the first of many. A beginning. And now it just feels like an echo of something that’s already ended.

Your heart aches—sharp and sudden, like a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You step closer, fingers brushing the dry surface of the canvas, as if touching it might bring some part of him back even though you know it doesn’t and you’re left there in the silence, missing someone who might’ve already let you go.

Squatting down, your eyes catch the initials in the corner: S.H.

You trail your fingers over them, gently outlining the letters. Your voice barely makes a sound as you murmur, “Sam Hwang.”

The name feels strange in your mouth—familiar, but distant, like something you've read in passing but never truly paid attention to.

Sam Hwang…

You say it again, this time letting it roll slower off your tongue. And then you freeze. You straighten up slowly, eyes widening as your mind starts connecting the pieces.

Sam Hwang.

You scramble for your phone, heart thudding as you fumble to unlock it. Your fingers are unsteady as you tap open the Lustre app and pull up the messages from that one user you had grown fond of—the one who always left sweet, thoughtful notes beneath your content. Never crude. Always kind.

You scroll back through the messages. The way they referenced things you never shared online—small details, like the time you wore your hair differently, or when you used a different song in your clips. It felt like they knew you. Like they saw you.

And then your brain syncs it all at once. The flowers.

Those purple tulips Hyunjin brought you, for no reason at all—just because. You thought it was sweet, random and you were too busy to notice it. But then you remember that it's the flowers on his profile picture. You stare at the screen, your pulse racing.

Mag.Shawn.

Sam Hwang.

It's an anagram. It’s him. It’s been him all along. You cover your mouth with your hand, a shaky breath slipping past your fingers as you try to steady yourself. Every message flashes through your mind now, suddenly reframed in Hyunjin’s voice. The compliments. The support. The gentle teasing. The way he never crossed a line.

Your knees give slightly, and you sit back on the floor with your phone still clutched in your hand, your heart pounding as if you just uncovered a secret love letter that was never meant to be found. Now that you know… everything feels different because it was never just about work. Not really. It was always something more.

-

Hyunjin is tired. Not the kind of tired that paint-stained fingers and aching shoulders bring—but the kind that seeps into the space behind his ribs, hollowing out something he’s not sure he’ll find again.

The school studio had been silent all day except for the low hum of music and the scratch of brushes against canvas. He painted aimlessly, moving through motions that didn’t bring the kind of release they once did. He should’ve felt accomplished. But instead, he just felt... alone.

When he finally makes his way back to the apartment building, the sky is a deep shade of navy. He climbs the familiar stairs slowly, dragging his feet, thoughts tangled like loose threads in his mind.

It’s when he rounds the corner, about to take the next flight up, that he sees you. Sitting on the steps, elbows on your knees, fingers nervously fidgeting. And when you look up—eyes locking with his like magnets clicking into place—Hyunjin stops breathing for a second. He knows that look. It's the same one he saw on that night you first talked to him. You’ve been waiting for him.

You rise slowly, carefully, like you’re afraid you might scare him off. But your voice is steady when you ask, “Can we talk?”

Hyunjin clenches his jaw. His heart hammers against his ribs, screaming yes, yes, let her in—but his head tries to keep control.

“There’s nothing left to talk about,” he says flatly. He doesn’t even look at you when he moves past, doesn’t dare. If he does, he knows he’ll unravel.

You don’t give up. Your footsteps echo behind him, too close, too persistent, and your voice comes again, more urgent this time. “I’m not mad that you quit, Hyunjin. I just need to know why.”

He doesn’t answer. Can’t. The words stay lodged somewhere in his throat, too complicated, too heavy to give voice to. His fingers tighten around the doorknob as he unlocks it. He finally turns to face you, his body angled half into the apartment, half still in retreat.

“Can we not do this now?” he mutters. “Just… not tonight.”

He starts to step inside but then you’re pushing forward—determined, fierce—and before he can stop you, you’re inside his apartment. The door clicks shut behind you, and the air between you both thickens.

“I’m not leaving,” you say quietly, “not until we talk.”

And just like that, he knows—there’s no more hiding.

You stand in the middle of the room like it’s a battlefield. You’ve crossed your arms in front of you, trying to brace yourself, trying not to fold. Your voice cuts through the heavy silence.

“Why?”

Hyunjin avoids your eyes. He turns slightly away, jaw tense. “I’m just tired,” he mutters. “I need to focus on school.”

You don’t say anything for a moment. You just stand there, the weight of his answer settling between you. Then, quietly, you say, “That’s not the real reason.”

Your voice begins to build, unraveling with everything you’ve been holding back. “These past few days I’ve been going over everything in my head, over and over again. I needed to know why, Hyunjin. Why you left like that, without saying a word. I thought maybe I did something wrong, maybe I made you uncomfortable, or maybe…”

Your voice cracks as frustration begins to break through. “Is it because of that night at Sienna’s party? Was it about Felix? Was it... me?”

Hyunjin flinches, hands tightening into fists at his sides. Your words sting in places he doesn’t want to admit. “It’s because I know you don’t want me,” he blurts, louder than he means to. You stare at him, eyes narrowing, confused. He takes a shaky breath, and his voice comes again, rawer this time. “Why haven’t you posted the content we made together? Is it because you didn’t want to do it with me? Because you don’t want me in it? Or is it… is it because you’re ashamed?”

You’re quiet now. The question hangs in the air like smoke. Then you breathe in, shaky and small, and your voice is almost a whisper when you speak. “I didn’t post it because I don’t want this life for you.”

Your arms uncross, and your gaze drops to the floor. “You’re a real artist, Hyunjin. You’re talented. You deserve to be known for your work—not as some guy who makes content with me.”

Your voice is trembling now, your words fragile. “I don’t want to be the reason you get looked at differently. Judged. You’re better than this.”

Hyunjin’s chest tightens. He almost snaps again, but he holds it in. Instead, he takes a step forward, voice low and steady. “Better than what, huh?”

You look up at him, eyes glassy, lips parting like you might speak—but nothing comes out. Another tear escapes, and without thinking, he reaches for you, gently placing his hands on your elbows.

“Do you even know what I want?” he asks, softer now.

You blink, your breath catching, and you shake your head. “No,” you say quietly. “But I know you’re better than this. I know you deserve more.”

His thumb catches the tear that rolls down your cheek.

“What if this—” he whispers, voice shaking just a little, “what if you are what I want?”

Hyunjin leans in slightly, the words right there, barely held back. “I want you,” He says, breathing through the emotion swelling in his chest. “And whatever comes with you.”

-

The second those words leave his mouth—“I want you. And whatever comes with you.”—you break.

It’s not graceful or quiet. It’s a sudden rush of breath you didn’t know you were holding, and then your face crumples as the tears fall fast and hot. You cover your face with both hands, like that could somehow muffle the sound of your sob, but it doesn’t work.

Hyunjin’s eyes widen with alarm, as if he hadn’t expected that reaction. As if he doesn’t understand why it hurts you so much to hear something so kind.

“You shouldn’t,” you croak between your fingers, voice thick and breaking. “You shouldn’t want me.”

That’s the part that cracks him open too. He doesn’t ask you why. He doesn’t tell you you’re wrong. He just steps forward and wraps his arms around you like he means to hold every shattered piece of you together. His warmth surrounds you instantly—his arms firm around your back, one hand on the back of your head, gently cradling you as you cry into his shoulder.

“I do,” he whispers, voice close to your ear. “I want you. I only want you.”

You cling to him, your hands fisting into the back of his shirt as if letting go would undo everything. The weight of everything—the confusion, the distance, the aching loneliness—pours out of you all at once, and still, Hyunjin holds you tighter.

You breathe in slowly, trying to steady the trembling in your chest. The worst of your tears have passed, but your throat still burns and your hands are still curled in the fabric of his hoodie, like you’re afraid to let go.

When you finally lift your head, your eyes meet his—deep, warm, unwavering. And it’s there again. That quiet devotion. That stubborn tenderness he always gives you without asking for anything in return.

“I do want you,” you rasp, voice barely above a whisper. “But I just… I know you deserve better.”

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, his thumb brushes softly across your lips, silencing the words before they can cut deeper into the space between you. He looks at you with something like heartbreak and fierce affection wrapped into one.

“You’re the only one I want,” he says, voice low and sure, as if daring you to challenge him again and then he leans in.

His lips find yours in a kiss that’s tender at first, then deepens with something heavier—something full of things he’s been holding back for far too long. It’s not rushed, not messy. It’s slow, consuming, full of warmth and ache and all the unsaid things that have been living between your hearts.

When he finally pulls back, he doesn’t go far. Just enough to cup your face with both hands, his forehead resting lightly against yours, his breath mixing with yours.

“You’re all I want in this world,” he whispers.

And before you can say anything else, he kisses you again—like a vow, like a promise, like he’s sealing every word he just said with the press of his lips against yours.

You pull away just enough to catch your breath, your forehead still resting against his. Your lips are tingling, heart pounding, and there's something new blooming in your chest—hope, maybe. Or something dangerously close to it.

You swallow, eyes flicking down to his lips before finding his gaze again. “Do you… want to continue?” you ask softly. “Pick up where we left off that night?”

For a moment, Hyunjin just blinks at you—like the question caught him off guard. But then a grin tugs at the corner of his mouth, warm and crooked and so undeniably him. He lets out a breathy laugh, voice laced with fond disbelief. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that.”

Hyunjin kisses you again—deeper this time, with more urgency. Like something in both of you has snapped free and there's no turning back now. His hands slide down to your thighs, and in one swift motion, he hoists you up. You gasp softly, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist, your arms looping around his shoulders as you press yourself closer. Your bodies fit together like they remember how it felt—how right it was.

The kiss grows heated, the air between you humming with everything unsaid and everything still to come. And for the first time in days, maybe weeks, it feels like the weight on your chest has lifted, like you're exactly where you're supposed to be—held tightly in his arms, kissed like you're the only thing he sees.

Hyunjin carries you down the short hallway with a kind of quiet certainty, his arms secure around you, his breath steady near your ear. Your heart flutters with every step—part anticipation, part disbelief that you're here, that this is happening again but different, deeper.

You glance over your shoulder, peeking into the dimly lit room as the two of you enter. It's the first time you’ve seen his bedroom, and the sight makes your lips twitch. The bed—mattress on the floor, slightly rumpled sheets, a couple of sketchbooks stacked on the nightstand—is exactly what you expected, yet still makes you grin.

You turn your head back to him, raising an eyebrow. “No bedframe, huh?”

Hyunjin just smirks, unbothered. “Didn’t realize I needed one to impress you.”

Your laughter is soft, breathy against his neck, and before you can fire back a reply, he’s already kneeling to lower you onto the mattress. The sheets are cool against your skin, but the warmth in his eyes keeps you steady. He leans over you, his fingers brushing your cheek, and for a second, he just looks at you like he's taking you in all over again, like you're his favorite work of art.

You feel it—that pull in your chest, that ache in your throat—as Hyunjin hovers above you, his eyes locked onto yours. There’s something intense in his gaze, something unspoken yet so loud it fills the room. His stare burns through the quiet, says everything he hasn’t said yet and everything you’ve been too scared to admit.

When he kisses you again, his body settles gently over yours, and you instinctively welcome the weight of him, the warmth, the way his presence wraps around you like a second skin. There’s nothing frantic about the way he touches you—his hands glide over your body like he’s relearning every inch. But even within that gentleness, there’s a sense of urgency. His fingers trail down your arm, brushing the side of your waist, and you can feel how much he wants you—how much he’s been wanting you. Still, there’s something soft in his every movement. Like even when he’s aching for you, he’s still being careful with your heart.

You don’t know what gets into you—but the moment your eyes meet his, wide and expectant beneath you, something shifts. A boldness, maybe. A need to let him feel what you've been holding back. You roll over, catching him off guard, and suddenly it's him beneath you. His back hits the mattress with a soft thud, and his breath catches as your legs settle on either side of his hips. His hands instinctively find your waist, grounding himself in your touch.

For a moment, you just take him in. The way his dark hair falls into his eyes, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his chest rises and falls a little quicker now. You can’t help but trace the shape of him with your eyes, then with your hands—slowly, deliberately. Fingers skimming down his chest, feeling the warmth beneath the fabric.

You start unbuttoning his shirt, one at a time. His muscles tense beneath your touch, his breath hitching when your palm brushes bare skin. When the shirt parts open, your hand slides over the contours of his chest—smooth skin, defined lines, the flutter of his heartbeat under your fingertips.

And then your lips follow. You press gentle kisses against his skin, soft and slow, tasting the warmth of him, the way he shivers with every touch. As your kisses trail lower, his breath grows more uneven. You pause just at the edge of his waistband, the tension between you humming like a live wire. You lift your head just enough to look at him, his lips parted, eyes dark with anticipation, and the faintest tremble in his breath. You smirk.

Then you lean in and kiss him—hard. His lips mold to yours instantly, his hands gripping your waist tighter, pulling you closer, like he needs you there, needs this. And between the kisses, your voice dips low, teasing against his mouth.

“Why are you so nervous?” you murmur, brushing your nose against his. “It’s not like this is the first time we’re doing this.”

You feel the subtle hitch in his breath, the way his fingers flex against your skin. Still, he doesn’t answer—not with words. Instead, he surges up, kissing you again. Deeper this time. Hungrier. Like that was all the encouragement he needed.

You melt into it, into him, your body pressed flush against his, his warmth grounding you in ways nothing else ever could. His hands roam—up your back, over your spine, holding you close and you stay there, tangled in him, lips moving together in quiet desperation, slow but insistent, a rhythm you both fall into with ease.

You breathe him in, every kiss tasting like something familiar but new again. And wrapped in his arms, with the weight of his affection holding you steady, the ache in your chest softens.

For now, it’s just the two of you. No doubts, no questions—just this moment, and the way he makes you feel like you’re the only thing he wants.

-

Hyunjin feels every second of your kiss like it’s being etched into his memory—every soft press of your lips, every shift of your body melting against his. You fit against him so perfectly, like your body was molded to match his. And god, he could stay like this forever.

Even with his mouth busy, his heart races as he feels your hand glide lower, fingers trailing the edge of his jeans. He catches your wrist gently, right before you can slip your hand beneath the waistband. You pull back slightly, gasping in surprise, and the look on your face—wide-eyed and slightly mischievous—makes his chest ache in the sweetest way.

You’re straddling him still, your legs snug around his hips, and he props himself up on one elbow, gazing at you. Your lips turn into an adorable pout. “But we’ve been waiting so long for this.”

He knows you’re right. He knows the urgency, the ache in your voice—it’s the same one he feels burning through him.

“I know,” he murmurs, voice low as he reaches up, brushing a few strands of your hair away from your face. He lets his fingertips trail along your jaw before settling just beneath it, holding you gently.

He leans in and kisses you. Slowly. Purposefully. Like he’s telling you everything he can’t quite put into words. When he pulls back, barely an inch from your lips, he rests his forehead against yours and whispers, “But let's make this lasts.”

You let out a quiet breath, your lips curling into a soft smile, and he swipes his thumb gently across your bottom lip, marveling at the way you look at him like he’s worth something, like he matters. And then he kisses you again, capturing that smile with his lips, holding it there between the both of you—this tender, perfect moment that feels like it could stretch into forever.

His hands find the hem of your blouse, fingers brushing warm skin as he gently tugs the fabric upward and over your head. You let him, your arms rising instinctively, eyes never leaving his. He trails his fingers down the length of your arms afterward, slow and reverent, like you’re something sacred, something to be worshiped.

When he reaches behind you, his fingers find the clasp of your bra, unhooking it with ease. You let the straps slide down your shoulders, and he watches as you shrug it off completely, tossing it somewhere forgotten. His breath catches when he sees you—bare, soft, and beautiful in the dim light.

He reaches out, fingertips tracing the slope of your collarbone before moving lower. He touches your chest with care at first, almost in awe, and rests his hand flat on your sternum, feeling the rapid thud of your heart beneath his palm. Slowly, he glides it down until it finds home on your ribcage, holding you steady as he leans in.

His mouth follows next—kisses pressed along your jaw, trailing to the curve of your neck, each one lingering longer than the last. He kisses your chest, hands rising to cup your breasts with a kind of reverence, but also urgency. His palms are warm, fingers pressing in gently, fondling and kneading. When he takes your nipple into his mouth, your breath stutters into a soft moan, and that sound alone drives him wild.

He lavishes attention on you, switching sides, leaving behind faint wet marks on your skin—his own quiet claim. He moves higher, up your chest, his tongue smoothing along your skin before he suckles the hollow between your neck and shoulder, and he feels you shiver beneath him.

Hyunjin breathes you in as he buries his face against your sternum, his lips resting just above your heartbeat. It drums steadily against him, louder somehow now that everything else has quieted — the world, his thoughts, the tension that had built between the two of you over the past days. All of it fades as he listens to the rhythm of your heart, like it’s telling him something he already knows deep down.

Your hands come up gently, arms wrapping around his shoulders, holding him close. Your fingers slide into his hair and he sighs into your skin — the sound barely audible but full of meaning. You don’t speak. Neither of you needs to. It’s not about words right now.

The warmth of your embrace, the bare skin against his, the rise and fall of your chest under his cheek — it feels like a thread, invisible and delicate, tugging the two of you closer until there’s nothing between you. Nothing but the ache of longing finally answered. He presses a soft kiss to your chest, right over your heart, and stays there, still, quiet, content.

For the first time in a long while, Hyunjin feels whole — like he isn’t running from anything anymore. Like maybe this… is exactly where he’s meant to be.

After a long moment, he lifts his head from your chest, his breath warm against your skin as his gaze finds yours — intense and unreadable. Then, without a word, he shifts his weight and catches you off guard, pushing you gently down onto the bed, reversing your positions once more. You let out a soft gasp, eyes wide as you land against the mattress, your hair fanned out beneath you.

His hands frame your face as he leans down and kisses you again — slow, deep, claiming. You can feel the change in him, in the air. It’s not rushed. It’s not just need. It’s more than that now.

As his lips part from yours, his hands begin to explore you again, moving down your sides in a slow, reverent motion. Every brush of his fingers leaves a trail of goosebumps in their wake. When they reach your hips, they linger for a heartbeat before he tugs gently at the waistband of your shorts.

His gaze lifts to meet yours again, seeking permission without speaking, and when you give the slightest nod, he inhales quietly and then continues — slowly peeling them down your legs, your underwear along with them. The air feels cooler against your skin as you’re exposed to him fully, but the way he looks at you makes you feel anything but vulnerable.

He kneels there at the edge of the bed, unmoving for a moment, just looking at you. Not in lust — though there’s desire in his eyes — but in awe, like he’s looking at a painting he doesn’t dare touch, like he wants to memorize every curve of you, every detail, as if you were art in motion. And to him, you are.

His hands are steady as he leans in again, his lips brushing over yours in a soft, lingering kiss before moving lower. He places gentle, fluttering kisses along your collarbone, then down to your ribcage — slow, unhurried. His mouth grazes your navel, then your left hip, each press of his lips last longer than then previous.

You gasp softly when he slips his hand under the back of your thigh and lifts it, his lips finding the soft skin of your inner thigh. He lingers there for a breath, the warmth of his mouth sending ripples through your entire body. Then he trails lower, his lips brushing down your calf, and finally landing on the sole of your foot. The unexpected kiss makes you giggle, the sound breaking through the quiet like sunlight through clouds.

After giving your foot a quick massage, he gently sets your leg down and looks up at you, his expression shifting — no longer teasing or playful, but full of something much deeper. He sighs, almost shakily, and brings his hand up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing along your cheek.

“I should be the one asking if I deserve all this,” he murmurs, his voice low and earnest. “If I really deserve every beautiful part of you… to touch you, kiss you, hold you.”

You don’t say anything — the way you look at him already says enough.

Hyunjin reaches for your hand, holding it tenderly in both of his. He brings your wrist to his lips first, placing a kiss there like he’s sealing a vow, then presses one to your open palm. Then he shifts forward, lowering himself over you slowly. His body presses gently into yours, his skin warm, his heartbeat strong and steady against your chest.

This time, he’s not just close. He’s with you — completely, quietly, and fully present. Molding into you, like the final brushstroke that completes a painting.

Just when you’re completely wrapped in him, he suddenly pulls away, sitting up on the bed with a breathless laugh, eyes flickering with something unspoken. You watch him as he impatiently pushes his jeans down his hips, shedding the last barrier between you. His sigh of relief is audible, and the way his chest rises and falls is enough to make your breath catch.

Hyunjin doesn’t waste time to wrap his hand around his swollen length with evident veins coiling around it, pulsating with need. He glances at you through heavy lashes, his hand begins stroking it up and down, then he murmurs, “Do you want to?”

You don’t answer with words—just a slow, sure nod. He reaches for your hand, guiding it gently, curling your fingers around his hot, hard cock.

The moment your hand wraps around him, his jaw tightens, his eyes fluttering half shut. Together, you find a rhythm—pumping his cock at a slow, steady pace, the tension thick between you as your eyes stay locked, every breath shared and every movement deliberate. There's no rush, just this quiet moment of closeness, of trust and want, unfolding between the two of you.

Hyunjin’s breath hitches as your hand continues its slow movements, the tension in his body unraveling under your touch. His eyes stay on you, dark and intense, until they flicker downward. With one hand still wrapped around yours, guiding the rhythm, his other hand trails down your thigh—light, teasing, reverent.

When his fingers slip between your legs, dipping into your wetness. His touch is gentle at first, exploratory, but it doesn't take long before he’s pressing two digits into you, finding the spot that makes you shift and gasp. His lips part as he watches your reaction, his own breathing getting heavier.

“So wet,” he murmurs, voice rough and low, “so ready for me.” There’s awe in the way he says it, almost like he can’t believe this is real—that you're here, letting him touch you like this.

The sensation of his fingers working you open while your hand still pumping his cock pulls a shiver from deep inside. It’s a push and pull, each of you responding to the other in quiet desperation, building the tension between you. His forehead presses to yours for a second, grounding both of you, his eyes closed like he’s trying to savor every second and when he opens them again, there’s no mistaking the hunger swimming there—an ache mirrored in your own heart.

You barely have time to react before Hyunjin grabs both of your wrists and pins them gently above your head, his fingers firm but careful around your wrists. His eyes meet yours, hooded and dark with want, and for a moment, all you can hear is your breathing—intertwined and uneven.

Then his free hand slips between your bodies, guiding himself down until the thick heat of his cock presses right against where you need him most. He doesn’t enter—only drags his length along your soaked core, slow and maddening, your essence coating his shaft for every time it sides between your folds. The friction makes your back arch, your body instinctively chasing more, needing more. But Hyunjin just smirks, watching the way you react to him as the tip of his cock pressing right on your clit.

“You feel that?” he murmurs, voice gravelly, lips brushing against your cheek as his hips roll forward again, grinding against you in a way that makes your whole body tense and tremble. “This is how much I want you…”

You whimper beneath him, wrists still caught in his hold, entirely at his mercy. Each slow stroke of his hips is deliberate, calculated to tease, and it works—you're writhing, eyes fluttering shut, your legs falling open for him without a second thought.

Hyunjin leans down and kisses your jaw, your neck, then your lips, swallowing every sound you make as he keeps moving, driving you to the edge without even taking you there yet.

Despite the desperate, breathless moans you let out, he doesn’t ease up. If anything, his teasing only grows more deliberate, each slow roll of his hips keeping you right on the edge, never enough to satisfy the ache building in your core. You squirm beneath him, your breaths coming out shaky, helpless—your body begging for what your lips still struggle to say.

“Please,” you whisper. Then again, more desperate. “Please… please…”

Hyunjin lowers his head, brushing his lips against your temple. “Please what?” he murmurs, voice rough with control, eyes glinting with mischief.

You can’t answer—not with words. Instead, you keep whispering his name between each breathless plea, your hands clutching at his arms, your hips lifting, chasing him. A slow, almost smug smile forms on his lips.

And then finally, you manage a broken, “I want you.”

He pauses to look down between your bodies where your need for him is obvious—undeniable. He can see it from how drenched you are, from the way your essence gets all over his thick shaft.

“Yeah?” he says, low and teasing, brushing the crest of his cock against you, slipping just barely in. “I can see that.”

You let out a choked whimper, nodding frantically, pleading again without shame. “Please. I need you.”

Hyunjin releases your wrists, only to grip your hip with one hand and steady himself with the other. Slowly, achingly slow, he pushes into you—just an inch or two—then stops. The pressure is there, intense and lingering, but it’s not enough. Not nearly enough. He looks down at you, lips parted, eyes dark and focused entirely on the way you react to him.

“You want more?” he asks, breath hitching as he holds himself still inside you, teasing you with just enough to drive you wild.

Your back arches, fingers digging into the sheets. “Yes,” you gasp. “More. Please…”

Hyunjin leans in, kissing your neck before murmuring against your skin, “Then hold on to me.”

Despite his words, he doesn’t grant your plea just yet. Instead, he moves with intention—slow, shallow thrusts that never go deeper than your entrance, but it’s more than enough. Each time he rocks into you, it sends a ripple of heat through your body, igniting something that builds faster than you expect. He watches you carefully, his hand gripping your hip tighter each time you clench around him.

You’re unraveling beneath him, your breath catching, moans spilling from your lips in broken, rasping fragments. And he can feel it—how close you are, how your body trembles under the weight of your need.

“You’re close,” he whispers, voice husky as he leans closer, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You nod, unable to form words, completely lost in the feeling. Then it hits. Your back arches, fingers twisting into the sheets as your release rushes through you in waves, pleasure so intense it nearly knocks the air out of your lungs.

Your body pulses around him, and you’re still gasping for breath when Hyunjin finally moves again. He exhales shakily—almost a groan—and slowly sinks all the way in, filling you completely in one smooth, careful push. He's giving you what you want when you least expect it.

You gasp, overwhelmed, your body still sensitive from the climax. The sensation of him, so hard, so deep and still inside you, makes your whole body shiver. You can feel his heart pounding against yours, his breath brushing over your lips as he hovers above you.

He stills, just holding you, letting you feel every inch of him as your body adjusts—pulsing, vibrating gently around him. “You feel… unreal,” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his voice raw with awe.

-

Hyunjin feels like everything.

Inside you, around you—He is all you can feel, all you can see. And for the first time, it truly feels like the two of you have become one. Every breath he takes, you feel it in your lungs. Every beat of his heart echoes in your own.

You wrap your arms tightly around him, pulling him closer, needing to feel his weight, his warmth, his reality. Your lips find his, and he kisses you like he’s been holding back an ocean of longing—eager, deep, like he wants to memorize the shape of your mouth.

You pull away just a little, breath caught, lips still brushing his as you whisper, “Hyunjin…”

The second his eyes meet yours, you know he’s listening—really listening. Like your voice is the only sound in the world.

“Take me,” you say, voice low and trembling. “Make me... Claim me.”

His brows draw together, jaw twitching like he’s trying to hold something back. You reach up and brush the hair that’s fallen over his face, tucking it behind his ear, your thumb gliding gently across his temple.

“Come inside me,” you breathe.

That’s when you feel it—something in him shifts, snaps, cracks wide open. His restraint melts away, and suddenly his mouth is on yours again, desperate, aching. He starts to move, slow at first, but there’s something different now. Every thrust is more than just movement—it’s a vow, a promise, a confession.

There’s no bedframe beneath you, just the mattress pressed against the floor, and for a fleeting second, you’re oddly thankful—because with the way he’s moving, rough and hungry, anything else would’ve fallen apart beneath the weight of it all.

His gaze never leaves you. It darkens when he sees your hands slide up to your chest, fingers teasing over your erected nipples, doubling the pleasure sparking through your body. You squeeze and cup yourself, breath hitching, and when you bring your breasts together for him, he takes them in his mouth in an instant. His tongue swirls, flicks, sucks on your nipples and on the flesh of your mounds, drawing shameless moans from your throat that echo off the bare walls.

Then he grabs your hands gently, pulling them away and placing them around his shoulders like an unspoken message—hold on to me. And you do.

Hyunjin picks up the pace, his breath turning ragged against your skin, and all you can do is cling to him, gasping, moaning, unraveling as his body claims yours with everything he has. There’s no space between you anymore, only heat, only movement, only the rush of him building toward the edge.

And when he finally lets go—when he gives you all of him, coming inside you and fill you full of him just like you asked—it feels like a vow, wordless and sacred. A promise sealed with every part of him. He collapses into you, your bodies tangled, breath shared. In that moment, he is wholly, completely yours. And you are his.

-

The bed is cold when you wake up.

The first thing you notice is the emptiness beside you—no warmth, no steady heartbeat to lull you back into sleep. Just rumpled sheets and the faint imprint of where he lay last night.

You blink against the light, slowly sitting up, the duvet clutched to your chest. It smells like him—something between fresh paint and fabric softener—and you breathe it in like it’ll bring him back. It only makes your heart ache a little more.

“Hyunjin?” you call out softly, voice rough from sleep and get no reply.

Your gaze lands on his sweater, half-draped at the edge of the bed. You reach for it, pulling it over your head, letting the sleeves hang long past your hands. It’s warm. It’s him. And somehow, it helps.

You slide out of the bed and walk through the apartment barefoot, your steps quiet. “Hyunjin?” you call again, a little louder this time and still no answer.

The silence makes the apartment feel unfamiliar like it doesn’t quite belong to either of you without him in it. You wander through the space, and your eyes land on the canvas—that one. The one covered by a white cloth. The one he said was a failure. You hesitate for only a second before stepping closer. Your fingers grip the edge of the fabric, and with one careful tug, you lift it. The breath catches in your throat. It’s… you.

A portrait. A figure rendered in soft colors and tender strokes. The way he’s painted you—it’s intimate, it’s raw. It’s real. Not just your features, but the way he sees you. The way he feels you. And he called this a failure?

Your fingertips trail lightly along the edge of the painting, your chest swelling with something deep and warm. He lied. Not because the painting wasn’t good, but because it meant too much to show. And the fact that he created this—that he thought of you like this—makes your heart ache in the most beautiful way.

Then you hear it—the click of a lock turning, the quiet creak of the front door opening. You turn just as Hyunjin steps inside, balancing two takeaway coffee cups in one hand and a paper bag in the other. His sweater hangs a little loose, and his hair is messy from the breeze outside. His eyes land on you in surprise.

“Hey—!”

You run to him, arms wrapping tightly around his torso, and he gasps as he tries to keep the coffee from spilling. His laugh is muffled against your hair as he shifts the cups to one hand.

“Careful,” he says through a breathless chuckle. “Or I have to go and buy coffee again.”

“You left me,” you say with a dramatic pout, burying your face into the soft fabric of his hoodie. “I woke up and you were gone.”

“I didn’t think I’d be long,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You were still asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.”

You pull back just enough to meet his gaze—and then you kiss him. A soft, sleepy kiss, full of affection. When you pull away, there’s a smile playing at your lips. “Good morning.”

His own smile softens as he leans in again, placing a longer kiss on your lips, like he missed you in the hour he was gone. “Good morning,” he echoes. “Let’s have breakfast, mmh?”

And just like that, the day starts with him again. Just the way you like it.

-

You and Hyunjin settle onto the sofa, breakfast in your laps and a lazy, quiet comfort hanging in the air between you. The sun filters in through the windows, casting a soft glow over everything. He sits beside you, legs spread just enough for you to slide in closer. After finishing your pastry, you cradle your coffee cup between your hands, still warm and fragrant.

Without a word, you scoot closer to him, draping your legs over his lap and letting them rest comfortably between his. He glances at you, smiling softly, and you return it with one of your own.

“So,” you start, sipping your coffee slowly before turning to face him fully, “I saw the painting.”

His brows lift, amused, and a little sheepish. “You did?”

You nod, narrowing your eyes at him playfully. “You lied to me.”

Hyunjin huffs out a laugh. “I did say it was a failure.”

You jab a finger into his chest and grin. “It’s me.”

He tilts his head, playing along. “Do you like it?”

You set your coffee cup down on the table, then fold your arms and pout at him. “I don’t like it.”

He raises an eyebrow. “No?”

“I love it,” you say with a wide grin. “So much.”

He chuckles and shifts slightly to wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close. “It’s not finished yet.”

You tilt your head up to look at him. “When are you going to finish it then?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

You pout again, exaggerated and dramatic. “Why not?”

He looks down at you, eyes soft and full of something you can’t quite name—something tender, something warm. “Why should I finish it,” he murmurs, “when I have the real one right here?”

You groan out loud, burying your face against his chest. “Ugh, you’re so cheesy.”

He laughs, a full, unguarded sound—and you can’t help but join him, laughing like everything in the world is just a little lighter when you’re together and maybe it is.

You set your coffee cup aside on the table, shifting on the couch so you can climb onto Hyunjin’s lap. He doesn’t protest—in fact, he opens his arms right away, welcoming you into them. You nestle into him, your knees framing his hips, and he takes a long sip of his coffee before placing his cup down as well. His arms wrap around you, holding you close, and you feel his chest rise and fall against yours.

You tilt your head and kiss his jaw, then press another soft one to his cheek. He turns to look at you, amused and already smiling when you gently grab his chin and turn his face toward you for a quick peck on the lips. Then you settle back into him, your head resting comfortably in the crook of his neck. His warmth surrounds you, his scent familiar, and when you glance up at him, something in your chest flutters.

“We should go on a date,” you murmur.

His thumb brushes along your cheek, soft and sweet. “Where do you want to go?” he asks.

You hum as you think. “Uhm... To your favorite place?”

He smirks, his hand playfully hovering on your inner thigh, intentionally brushing his knuckles against your clothed core. “My favorite place is right here.”

You gasp, laughing as you lightly slap his chest. “Hyunjin!”

He laughs too, that bright, boyish sound filling the room. “Just being honest here,” he says, holding his hands up in surrender.

You nod, your expression softening. “You know... somewhere that feels personal to you.”

Hyunjin leans in and places an affectionate kiss on your lips, lingering for a second before pulling back just enough to whisper, “I know a place.”

-

Hyunjin pats down the pockets of his jacket, doing a quick mental check—phone, wallet, keys and that thing in the inner pocket of his jacket. All good. He smooths down the front of his shirt and glances once at the mirror near the door, fixing his hair with his fingers before finally stepping out of his apartment.

He walks over to your door, heart thudding just a little faster than usual. It’s strange how it still feels like this with you—like he’s a teenager picking up his crush, not someone who spent the night tangled up in you.

Hyunjin knocks and when the door swings open, He blinks—once, then twice. You’re standing there, looking… breathtaking.

He lets out a soft, stunned laugh, eyes sweeping over your outfit. “Wow,” he says, leaning a shoulder against your doorframe. He says nothing else but his eyes endlessly admiring you.

You laugh, a little sheepish but so proud. “It’s our first date,” you simply point out.

Something tugs at Hyunjin’s chest at that. The honesty in your voice, the way you’re looking at him—it’s soft, real, and he’s suddenly so glad he gets to have this with you.

He grins, stepping closer. “You’re beautiful,” he says, meaning every word. Then, with a teasing glint in his eyes, “Maybe we should just cancel the whole plan.”

He nudges you playfully, pushing you back a step into your apartment, and you both burst into laughter. But before either of you can say more, he grabs your hand, warm and certain.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s go make it a good first date.”

The quiet hush of the gallery wraps around you both like a blanket, softening the sounds of passing footsteps and hushed conversations. Hyunjin walks beside you with his hands tucked in his pockets, his gaze darting to you now and then—your curious eyes, the way you lean in just a little to read the small plaques beside the paintings. He’s not sure why his heart won’t stop doing these little flips, but he doesn’t want it to stop either.

Eventually, he stops in front of a painting. It’s large, vivid, a swirling composition of shadows and light that seem to breathe if you look long enough.

You pause with him, sensing something different in his stance, the way he exhales slowly. “This one?” you ask, barely above a whisper.

Hyunjin steps closer, moving behind you and gently resting his hands on your waist. He nods. “Yeah… this one.”

You both stand there in silence for a moment, staring at the canvas. And then, in that quiet space, he begins to speak.

“There was a time I used to come here almost every week,” he says softly. “I'd just stand here and look at it. For hours, sometimes. I didn’t even understand everything about it—I still don’t. But something about it made me feel… seen. Like it understood what I was going through even when I couldn’t say it out loud.”

You listen, still and patient, your fingers brushing lightly over his where they rest on your waist.

“When I couldn’t eat, when I was too tired to sleep, when I was too overwhelmed to paint… I came here. I used this painting to hold myself together.” His voice falters for a second. “But now when I look at it, all I feel is everything I tried to suppress. Exhaustion. Pressure. Loneliness.”

He pauses. You can feel the weight of the memories in his breath.

“I want to change that.”

He reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulls out something small. A glint of silver and a soft charm catches the light as he holds it up—it’s the bracelet you once tried on absentmindedly at that jewelry shop weeks ago. You’d joked about him buying him for you and he hadn’t said anything then, just smiled.

Now, without a word, he gently slips it around your wrist and fastens the clasp.

“From now on,” he murmurs, “when I look at this painting, I’ll remember this moment instead. You. Us.”

You turn your head slightly to look at him, your eyes glistening with emotions you can’t quite name. Happiness. Sadness. Love. Grief. Hope. All tangled up into one beautiful ache.

“Thank you,” your voice breaking at the end of the sentence.

You kiss him, just a brush of lips—but it’s enough to make his breath catch. Then you take his hands and wrap them fully around your waist, holding them there like a promise.

“You’re not alone anymore,” you say gently. “I’m here. You have me now.”

Hyunjin looks at you like you’ve just handed him the sun and then he leans in and kisses you—not in a rush, not in desperation, but with everything he’s been carrying in his heart. Quiet gratitude. Relief. Love. It’s a kiss that says, I see you. I feel you. I’m yours.

And in that gallery, under the gaze of a painting that once held all his pain, he lets it all go—and chooses to remember this instead.

The kiss lingers long after it ends, warmth spreading through Hyunjin’s chest like a sunrise. He stays there for a beat longer, arms wrapped around you, your head resting against his shoulder as the painting stands silently before you—no longer a mirror of pain, but now a witness to something new.

Eventually, you both pull away, your fingers still tangled in his, your bracelet catching the light with every little movement.

Hyunjin glances down at it and smiles softly. “Ready to go?” he asks, brushing a thumb across your knuckles.

You nod. “Where to next?”

He pretends to think, lips twitching. “Somewhere with less staring eyes and more delicious food?”

You laugh, and the sound echoes faintly through the quiet halls of the gallery.

Hand in hand, you walk out together. The doors open, and sunlight spills across the marble floors, welcoming you into the rest of the day.

And as the two of you step into the light—your shoulders brushing, your smiles easy, your hearts just a little fuller than before—it feels like the beginning of something beautiful, something real and it's just getting started.

-

✨ A bonus chapter to Cam is available on my Patreon ✨

Please support my writings by kindly reblog, comment or consider tipping me on my ko-fi!

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[alchemistc]

Part One

Oh, I've got plenty to be thankful for

I've got eyes to see with

Ears to hear with

Arms to hug with

Lips to kiss with

Someone to adore

-bing crosby

He keeps waiting for someone to say something. To accuse him of lingering where he doesn't belong, or remind him he'd never actually made it all the way in. To tell him to go home, maybe get a halfhearted promise to let him know how Buck is at some point.

Maddie lays an exhausted head on his shoulder and Bobby sneaks him a slice of pumpkin pie he's apparently been hiding in the tote at his feet. Hen tosses him a power bank with a lightning cord and Karen makes a joke about his holiday attire.

When the coffee comes, Howie takes the trip to the lobby with him, pulls out his wallet and does his damnedest to strong arm Tommy into letting him tip the haggard looking girl another twenty bucks on top of the fifty Tommy'd figured was appropriate for having to balance a literal stack of hot beverages from the parking lot on Thanksgiving. She eyes them both with a smile and Tommy is more compelled the grab the drink carriers from her tired arms than stop Howie.

They're halfway back when Howie purposely slows his pace, and Tommy fights the urge to pick his up and avoid whatever's coming down on him. "So. Was this the wake up call you needed, or can I expect Buck to order a freezer on a Black Friday deal for my garage to store more baked goods?"

He doesn't know what that means.

He can extrapolate, though. "He's been baking?"

"Tommy, I cannot stress enough exactly how much he's been baking."

He'd tried his hand at a few things here and there, but Tommy's used to experimental chef Evan Buckley, not baking Evan Buckley. To be fair, if he'd seen Evan working a KitchenAid, apron tied loose and flour on a cheekbone, Tommy doubts he'd have actually had the time to finish whatever he had planned. That was then, of course.

"What was he doing on that trail, Howie?" That, too, he could maybe extrapolate. He doesn't want to, but he could.

Howie eyes him. Uses his free arm to elbow Tommy in the ribs. "You were the first person he ever invited to a 118 Thanksgiving, you know. My guess? He wasn't in the mood to be reminded of it while there was no room in the oven to bake away his feelings."

Yeah.

Jax had been over the moon when Tommy offered to take his shift, no trades necessary. What would the point have been, when Christmas and New Year's would be unbooked too?

Evan had bribed like six different people to ensure they'd be able to swing dinner on the day. Hobbes had sounded so thrilled to hear Tommy asking for the time off that he'd approved it without even looking at the shift.

"I'm just warning you in advance. The grovelling process is gonna involve eating your weight in loaves, most likely."

And that's that, apparently. No heavy handed warnings, no suspicion about why Tommy hasn't fucked off yet. Like it's some foregone conclusion that Tommy's not gonna panic and bolt a second time. Nothing has changed, yet Tommy gets the feeling they're all expecting some tearful reunion and a return to TommyandBuck.

Tommy slips the tea into Maddie's hands and watches her sniff it in distaste, which is an interesting nugget he'll have to revisit later if -

If.

There's no guarantees, here. That Tommy will be able to articulate how fucking terrified he is, that Evan will understand it. That the two of them will find a way through it together. All he has to go on is a solo hike on a day Evan should have been with family, an apparent bakery full of feelings spread between the 118, and the quiet calm that had washed over him when Eddie prompted him to make a decision.

Feet to the fire, he'd stayed.

---

Maddie's pregnant. It hits him between the eyes right around hour three of sit-and-wait. He's not an idiot, or a fool, and he hasn't spoken to any of these people in weeks so he's not going to announce it to the world, but somewhere in between the sporadic naps on Tommy's shoulder and the way she is attempting (failing) to power through her now cold tea makes him think. She and Bobby had driven here, and it's clear everyone else had been indulging. Maddie's no lush, but he's seen her knock back half a bottle of wine before when she's got nowhere to be.

She excuses herself to the bathroom for a third time, looking a little green, and Tommy ends up locked in a staring contest with Howie that only ends when Tommy mimes zipping his lips.

He still hasn't gotten the story about Eddie and why he's not here.

Bobby and Athena are apparently closing in on a new house.

Howie is less than a year away from having a second kid.

Athena's kids are apparently at Howie and Maddie's, attempting to keep Mara and Jee from destroying the house in the absence of adults.

And Tommy wants.

Wanting has never really been the problem, though. Wanting is the easy part. Wanting doesn't get him over the hurdle of knowing he's not enough. For Evan, for this family he's built that just keeps growing bigger and bigger. It'd been a relief, those first few days after, not to have to wonder which member of the 118 would land in the hospital next, not to have to rearrange something else on his schedule because Evan was convinced he was cursed, or Eddie'd had another shitty call with Christopher.

The relief hadn't lasted. A week in, he'd stayed up all night demolishing the half-bath off his dining room, because he'd been putting it off for months and he'd nearly texted Evan something that was startlingly revealing and left him exposed on all sides. Two weeks in he'd finished grouting the backsplash in his kitchen. And in between, he wondered how Eddie was doing, if he'd made any progress with his son. He'd wondered if Maddie enjoyed the bottle of wine they'd brought back from a spur of the moment trip to Napa. He'd wondered how Nash was doing, if he was readjusting to having his crew and his station back. He wondered how Hen and Karen were, how many things Denny had already gotten stuck in his cast trying to ease an itch.

He'd wondered, and he'd sat in it, and then he'd rewired the shoddy work an electrician had done in his spare room that he kept telling himself he'd get around to.

The wanting never goes away. He just finds new places to put it when he starts to care too much.

"Kinard and Buckley?"

Maddie's still in the restroom. Tommy - has no fucking clue why the nurse is staring at them like they'll just materialize the right people. She sucks in her lips and gives him a dead eyed stare before her eyes dart to his chest. More specifically, the nameplate on his chest.

Tommy blinks.

---

The having is where he's always floundered. Things are temporary. People are temporary. He's always been borrowing. Borrowing time, attention, affection.

For a few months there, he'd really started to think he could handle the having. That he'd get to keep it.

---

"I'm Buckley, he's Kinard," Maddie says from somewhere over his left shoulder, and he turns in time to see her adjusting her jacket, wiping at her lip. She stabilizes, looking unfazed, and stands tall. As tall as she can, at least. "You have news about my brother?"

The nurse glances around the room. No one is bothering to pretend not to be listening. Maddie hovers a wave behind her.

"Ignore the audience, we're all waiting with bated breath to see how obnoxious my brothers going to be. It depends entirely on whether or not he gets pie tonight."

She gives them all a disapproving look. This must not be one of their normal nurses.

Christ. They have normal nurses.

"Well, no pie tonight, but he should be able to eat a sandwich in the morning."

He's fine. He's fine.

Tommy knew going in that most of his injuries were superficial. The ribs had been a concern but with the pain meds and the collar he hadn't really had a chance to exacerbate those injuries. There's no reason he should feel quite so relieved to know that Evan will have a few annoying splints to work around and he'll probably need to rehab his ankle for a couple weeks once it's healed. The concussion isn't ideal, and he'll need help for a few days, but he's fine.

Tommy can feel the tears building.

"He'll likely be out for a few more hours, but I'll let you know when he's set up in a room. Two visitors at a time," she warns. "The concussion will effect his response time. Don't be surprised if he doesn't remember much, loses his train of thought."

Hen shifts somewhere behind him. It feels a bit like she's being held back from correcting the nurse about the normal side effects.

Things move on around him. The nurse leaves, Hen passes a Stanley cup around that definitely isn't filled with water, the normal sigh of relief is released while Maddie drops into the seat next to him with a groan, the team has a strange competition around him to battle for visitor position.

Tommy breathes.

I should go, Tommy thinks to himself, as half the people in the room raise their phones.

His own phone vibrates against his thigh.

A message from Howie, time stamped two minutes - Tommy squints to make sure - two minutes ago, an update on Evan. Another from Eddie reminding them all to give Buck a patent Eddie look from him while they were giving him shit. A selfie of Eddie, with Christopher somewhat reluctantly bending into the picture over his shoulder.

In another thread, he's got three messages from Eddie.

If I have to remove you from this group I'm sending my kid after you with his crutches.

You guys hiked Griffith Park for your Not-A-One-Month-Anniversary-We-Swear date, right?

Send Buck my love. Not like that, though.

Tommy sends back: When the fuck did he add me to his emergency contacts? and then decides he doesn't want to know anyway so he turns off his phone.

---

Maddie goes alone, and Tommy spends the time alternating between tapping his foot against the tile to distraction, and clamping his hand over his knee in an attempt to stop the tapping.

Bobby and Athena go next, then Hen and Karen. Then they're pulling on jackets and promising to save a plate for Buck.

Howie slips away for a few minutes and then returns, looking amused. "You think everyone else got the same greeting?" he asks his wife, who grins tiredly at him, pats his wrist. Her gaze turns to Tommy.

"Should we stay?"

That's a trap of a question. That's an assumption Tommy doesn't have a clue how to handle. He clears his throat. Shakes a few curls loose.

"What makes you think he'd want me to?"

Maddie's perfected the unimpressed eyebrow. It must be a parent thing.

Tommy barely holds in the sigh. "Go enjoy your meal."

---

Evan's been watching the door. It's clear the moment Tommy makes it to the threshold - he presses up, winces, tips sideways just enough to peek around the corner.

"Tommy," he says, and his expression melts.

Tommy's heard some iteration of that name a million times. Tom, from his dad. Tommy, fond and quiet from his mother, who'd never really learned how to speak up before she was gone. Thomas, in school, from teachers annoyed that he wouldn't just apply himself.

He was Kinard, to teammates, then fellow soldiers, to the firefighters he'd worked alongside for a decade before he ever let any of them know him.

No one says his name with quite so much reverence as Evan Buckley. He's convinced himself, over the last few weeks, that he'd been hearing adulation in that tone. But now it just sounds...relieved. Happy.

Evan slumps back and tries to cross his arms in a pout. There are too many cords and wires attached to him for it to work. "I'm pretty sure I'm mad at you," he says, and Tommy steps over the threshold.

---

Hobbes sounds fucking thrilled to find out he's going to be down a pilot for five days.

Evan throws a fit when he finds out Tommy's plan is to sleep on his own couch for the short duration of Evan's stay. Evan wins the proceeding argument and doesn't even complain that Tommy hadn't argued too hard

Bobby brings over enough leftovers to keep them in turkey sandwiches for a week, and Tommy doesn't think to ask how he got Tommy's address.

Tommy breathes. Tommy thinks. Once Evan can hold a train of thought for more than five minutes, Tommy talks.

Evan listens.

---

"So no Christmas," Evan pouts, and Tommy wants to bite it. "And no New Year's."

Tommy shifts a hand over his shoulder, tucks his chin over top of it so he can't see the pout anymore. "We were both already working those anyway."

"Do people do anything to celebrate Presidents Day?"

"Evan."

"Tommy," Evan mocks, and pulls far enough away to catch his gaze. "In the interest of transparency that was mostly a cover so I didn't ask about Valentine's Day."

"Is this you not asking about Valentine's Day?"

His smile is deceptively sweet. "I need help with my sandwich."

Tommy's seen him balancing a glass of water, his phone, two books and a takeout bag in his one good hand. He's absolutely full of shit.

Tommy leans forward to grab the sandwich off Evan's plate for him.

---

"You should stay," Tommy says, an hour after midnight two days into the new year. He's tipsy on his second glass of cheap champagne and he can't think of a reason to keep this in, anymore. Evan crinkles a brow at him.

"I... wasn't planning to go?"

There's a gold crown perched in his curls, and Tommy still hasn't taken the cheap plastic 2025 glasses off. The house is quiet, and there'd been shockingly few fires started by fireworks this year, so he's less tired than he'd expected to be.

"I meant -." Tommy starts, and then pauses. "I meant permanently. You should live here."

Evan laughs. Takes a bite out of his cake, and rolls his eyes, and then...stops. His entire body stills. "What."

It's ridiculous. The very thing that had pushed Tommy up out of his seat just a few months ago, sent him out the loft door with wet eyes and a heaviness in his heart.

"Tommy," Evan prompts, and Tommy catches the hand frozen on the countertop. He'd planned to hold this back, wait until something significant or poignant. But Evan had baked them a red velvet cake and argued with him the entire drive back from dinner about the proper way to fold a towel, and Tommy's tired of denying this isn't everything he's refused to let himself want for decades.

"You don't have to say yes just to confirm you're not breaking up with me," he tries to joke, and it falls flat.

"Tommy," Evan murmurs, quieter but more insistent.

"I'm serious. I want you here. I want -."

"Yes," Evan says, and squeezes his hand before he ducks his head bashfully. "Sorry. Continue."

"I want a life with you." The tears tickle at the back of his throat. He's gonna fucking cry, again. He'd always fucking known opening himself up to this was just an invitation for more tears in his life.

He can't quite convince himself the rest doesn't make them worth it.

"Yes. Again. Tommy, of course." He tips his chin. Purses his lips. "If you're sure."

Tommy swallows down the lump in his throat. He's never been more sure or more terrified of anything in his life. So he tells him so.

The words are like knives, but he works his way through the soreness, fights up past the fear that he's not sure will ever completely go away, and claws past the reminder that it's been a blink of an eye since Tommy walked out on this.

"Well. You can't walk out of your own house," Evan points out when he's finished, and of all things, it's that that snaps the tension of for once in his life prioritizing something other than fucking survival. He tips a grin, curls his elbow to bring their entwined hands to his lips. "It's gonna take years to coordinate another Thanksgiving with everyone," he bemoans, looking suspiciously watery-eyed himself as he holds Tommy's own wet gaze.

Tommy can extrapolate from that.

[hanjisungslag]

hiiii!! so sorryyy idk if you take requests BUTT could you do headcannons of being in an argument with the aot characters?

🗣️ aot characters & arguments

characters involved: eren, armin, mikasa, connie, jean, sasha, reiner, annie, bertolt, erwin, levi & hange

notes: i do take requests indeed!! :3 i luv angst, i hope this is gd♡

✧ eren jaeger - 

okay, when you guys argue it’s honestly more cute than anything because you’re both so protective of one another. neither of you wanted each other to join the scouts because it was so dangerous but, you both joined anyways obviously. oh my god, you guys non-stop bicker when there’s a mission! and don’t even get me started if you get put into different teams😭 you start TWEAKINGG. after he finds out he’s the attack titan, oh it gets 10x worse. his absolute biggest fear is losing control and hurting you - he’s already so conflicted, confused & felt like an outcast. he definitely lashes out more and becomes snappier than usual but, it does come from a place of sincerity.

when this happens, you just leave it be. as soon as it’s not just bickering anymore, when a voice is raised or an insult is made, you just leave it. you understand he’s going through a lot and just needs a minute but, TRUST ME! when you walk off, you make sure it is known that your feelings are hurt.

“i said no! you are not being on my team! im going with the levi squad, thats final.”

✧ armin arlert -

you both love each other very much but, goddamn you’re both so up your own arses! you are the ‘smart couple’ you are both strategic and witty and have your own way you go about things. so, when it comes to deciding whose plan is better, you always think yours is better and admin thinks his is better. this has (and probably always will be) the main root of your arguments, tbh. nobody likes to get involved either because if someone picks a side then even more havoc will break lose. the only people who’ve ever come between you two is: mikasa, levi & erwin.

it’s just like a debate, you know the ones on jubilee where it’s just people speaking over each other with different facts and sources? literally you two. you both would keep going until the end of time if you didn’t need to sleep, eat and drink water. it’s never that serious at the end of the day, you both love each other and i GUESS you can appreciate each others plans albeit you both think yours is better.

“if you actually listen to me when i say, my layout is better! look at how easy it is to manoeuvre from the castle to the forest!”

✧ mikasa ackerman -

wash the damn scarf. that is all you ask of her. she has literally never washed it and you love but jesus christ, stink LINGERS. not only do you think it’s weird she doesn’t wash it but, it’s also from eren… now, you know mikasa’s lore, of course. however, it’s really hard to get over your girlfriend having this deep love for this smelly scarf that her ex-crush gave to her after he literally saved her from being kidnapped. at first, you try to ignore it but it gets to a point where you sit down and talk to her but, she is not having it. she clearly cares very, very deeply for this scarf and will defend it. it’s really awkward conversation that slowly turns into raised voices and some opinionated things being raised.

“why are you getting jealous over a scarf? that’s so stupid! i just have fond memories with it!”

✧ connie springer -

again, not so much major arguments but just bickers. it usually starts as a joke but slowly but surely divulges into an argument about something stupid. one time, someone ate the last of jean’s meal that his mum made for him and he saved until today, obviously he was super upset and jokingly you blamed connie. at first, all was well, laughs were being heard and he even poked fun at you but, somewhere along the way it became more serious for you two, you genuinely suspected connie of eating jean’s meal and connie was getting visibly more upset.

“that was so not me! why are you telling them that?! i didn’t eat it, y/n!”

jean regretted asking who ate his food.

✧ jean kirstein -

jean is unfortunately a jealous guy. not for any malicious reasons, he’s just a bit insecure gang! he’s more scared that you’ll leave him for someone ‘better’ more than anything but, these feelings of insecurity manifest as jealously. he’d get jealous over you spending time with people like eren, mikasa or armin. in so many aspects, they’re better than him (in his eyes) and this will just make him reallyyy pissy. being in an argument with jean is painstakingly ambiguous like he never straight up says it, it’s always sly remarks or dry responses from him for a while. eventually, you know something is up and question him but he will avoid answering like the plague and it’s just so, so frustrating! eventually, when you break your calm demeanour, he will also break his ‘nonchalant-ness’ and just shout about how he feels.

he crossed his arms, “i just don’t understand why you need to be around him so much, you have me?”

✧ sasha braus -

absolutely nothing. i’m sorry but, she is too sweet and loving. IM SORRY, i’m sorry… i tried so hard to think of something but this queen is too perfect. at most, she would snap at you in high stress situations but she would never turn it into an argument. for example, if you told her to slow down her eating because you’re going on a mission but, she hasn’t eaten much that day she may snap and tell you to “let her do what she wants” but, she’s sooo quick to recover and apologise. literally not even giving you a second to even think about arguing with her!!

“ah, i’m sorry. you’re right, i don’t wanna be sick while flying through the air, huh?” she pouts.

✧ reiner braun -

you’re both from marley, you know damn well what you’re doing here but it seems reiner is straying off path. you’re there to try and remind him why you’re there and this leads to so many arguments. his split personality also plays a role in the arguments because it’s so.. scary and confusing for you because one moment he’s defending eldians than the next, he’s shouting at you about how he ‘knows the plan’.

when talking about stuff like this, since it’s extra sensitive for reiner he definitely flips out. i’m talking shouting, angry grunting, clenching his fists into balls and holding them against his forehead so he doesn’t fully crash tf out. he’s just as confused and scared as you are about his split personality but, he doesn’t want to seem weak or to seem like he’s losing sight of what is ‘right’ - it gets him really worked up. obviously, you stand your ground against him, he doesn’t scare you when you’re arguing. you’ve known him for so long.. you feel like he just needs to be guided.

“when did i ever say i liked them? yes, they’re okay people to be around for now but— no, i never said that! i know what they are, you don’t remind to tell me, y/n!”

✧ annie leonhart -

just the fact she’s cold and distant, it makes it really hard to actually have a relationship with her. at first, she was closed off COMPLETELY but cracks began to show and eventually, you thought you were at a good point with each other but, you kind of realised you didn’t know that much about annie. you try to ask questions to get her to open up but, she is one tough egg to crack so eventually, you just ask! hoping to help her more than anything but, this leads to an argument…

after this first argument, it became pretty regular like once every few weeks this would happen. you get super frustrated because she acts like she doesn’t even care! so, you’re shouting and getting really passionate while she sits there, looking pissed off and bored, rolling her eyes and scoffing. she doesn’t see the need to open up to you, she’s done what she thinks is ‘enough’ in her books.

“what do you want me to say? i’m not an open book, that’s just how i am. we’re all gonna end up dead, anyways.”

✧ bertolt hoover -

sigh… oh bert. every time you feel yourself developing further into your relationship with bert, his friends seem to pull him back. you’re still not quite sure why and they always seem to be giving side eyes or glances when he talks about his life - its starting to piss you off, rightfully so. you feel like he’s got two other side hoes watching yours and his every move! you being this up in subtle ways as to not seem like a crazy, jealous partner but eventually you burst and tell him how you really feel.

arguing with sweet bert isn’t fun because you can tell he tries so hard to please everyone in the situation, whether it’s you, him or now in this case, his friends too. he will raise his voice but, not in a bad way just in a general sense, things are getting heated, his voice will raise and he will fling his arms and hands. he’s a very expressive man when arguing because he is so passionate about it.

“y/n, they’re my friends! they’re just trying to protect me, why are you jealous?”

✧ erwin smith -

there’s so such things as arguments in your relationship, erwin likes to call them ‘mutual disagreements’ as your both in the scouts, he knows your time is limited. it’s a morbid and pessimistic way to think but, you have to be realistic when you live such a deadly lifestyle. he doesn’t want to take your time together for granted - plus, he’s a MAN like, he is calm and collected and will always hear you out.

you both start off calm, having a mature conversation about whatever it is that is bothering you but, when you start getting rowdier that’s when erwin quells the flames quickly. he takes a deep breath, hears you out and calmly walks you through it all. he’s so compassionate about it, i cant omg. he’ll gently place a hand over your own hand or on your shoulder if you’re standing, letting you know he’s present, he’ll sweetly talk you down, eventually calming you down and usually you’ll both say apologises or just general sweet statements and move on!

“i’m sorry, y/n. no, i’m glad you talked to me about this.”

✧ levi ackerman -

oh lord, being in an argument with levi ackerman is nawwtt fun. i’m sorry but, i’d kms if i argued with levi 😭. this man has such an awful resting bitch face as it is but, imagine his face when he’s arguing with you? IF LOOKS COULD KILL. he cant hide his emotions, so when you’re arguing even if he’s trying to be somewhat nice, his face says it all. usually he’ll roll his eyes and scoff if it’s something minor, he’ll hear you out, maybe give a half arsed apology or some sort of nice gesture to make sure you’re not upset however, if it’s a big issue oh brother…

silent treatment, i fear. he is so bad at communicating his feels correctly and often feels confused because this mf ain’t been in love before?! it gets too a point where he’s so mad, he just cant even begin to think of anything to say to you. you’ll be there raising your voice, becoming so passionate and when you ask what he thinks, he’ll say “i have nothing to say.” then boom, silent treatment. however, he’s bad with his words… but good with his actions. he still wants you to know he cares, you two could be in the most rancid moods but, you’ll go to your room and find your clothes ironed and folded🥲.

✧ hange zoë -

oh my sweet hange, my probably neurological challenged sweet hange… an argument with them would definitely stem from them spending more time with titans than you. when sawney and bean were around, you weren’t getting ANY time of day with them, trust. at first, you didn’t want to say anything because of course, you understand! the lifetime you guys are living in, things like hange’s research is soo important but, you can’t help but feel neglected sometimes.

when you finally bring it up, an argument ensues. neither of you really shout or anything, it’s just that kind of weird sort of raised, high pitched voice people get when you’re really frustrated. you both stay relatively calm for the situation you’re in but, you can totally tell you’re both so frustrated because hange just doesn’t see the problem. when you guys argue like this, it usually just goes in circles and after a while you both decide to mutually give up and leave it for another day.

“it’s all for science and the greater good of humanity though, i don’t understand?”

[hard-core-super-star]

sudden desire [K.Bishop + Y.Belova]

pairing: dom!yelena belova x sub!reader x switch!kate bishop

summary: after yelena dissapears on an unknown mission for a month, kate decides to take things into her own hands and encourage her to come home. things don't go exactly as planned for her on the blonde's return.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! -> dom/sub dynamics; implied pet play {collars, yelena using 'pet' and 'kotenok'}; orgasm denial; bondage; fingering; oral; sex toys; a dash of overstimulation; praise + degredation; kate's a brat and proud of it; yelena's mean but a secret softie; a SEVERE lack of proof-reading!

wordcount: 4.8k

a/n: SURPRISE! kinktober may be over but i got too attached to this idea and had to finish it. i have so many thoughts and feelings about this fic but i will save them and let you guys read it and form your own opinions about this dynamic. personally, i am OBSESSED with them and i would love to expand this little universe a little more. despite this being mostly shameless smut, there are quite a few feelings involved, especially regarding yelena and how being in this dynamic helps her unwind in a way without things being strictly sexual. so yeah, there's a lot but i really hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

It doesn't take a genius to figure out Yelena has been acting off for the past few weeks.

It isn't unusual for her to be a little distant. Still a little rough around the edges, thanks to the unbelievable amounts of trauma she keeps hidden inside herself. Things are different this time, though.

It's been days since she's shown up at the apartment, even longer since she's returned one of your calls. She never goes more than a few days without letting you know where she is, that she's okay and simply busy on whatever mission has taken her attention this time.

Kate tells you not to worry, that the Russian is probably just caught up in whatever mess she's discovered. You know better than that.

Unfortunately for the archer, you learned what the constant furrowing of her eyebrows means a long time ago.

Unfortunately for you, she's far too good at distracting you, always knowing exactly what to do, exactly what to say to steal all your thoughts away.

She can't fully erase your worry, though. Not that she'd even try, considering she feels the same way. Underneath all her stupid jokes, there's an edge of uncertainty she can't quite hide. It weighs her down more than anything else.

You both know Yelena could disappear in an instant if she wanted to. She could throw it all to the wind and never be heard from again if she so pleased.

She'd promised she wouldn't do it, though. Reassured you and Kate that after spending so long without a stable place to call home, she wanted to stay with you two. She wanted to be with you two.

It had taken very little to convince Kate to agree. Despite their rocky beginning, the chemistry they shared was obvious to even the most oblivious. Instead of being jealous about it like you maybe should have, you were intrigued and maybe more than a little attracted to it.

To them and the borderline overwhelming confidence they seem to exude together.

You've never been one for liking simple things, though, and the challenge of keeping them from going at each other's throats acts like an aphrodisiac most nights.

For all their bickering, they're surprisingly easy to manage. Except when it comes to the intricate play sessions Yelena enjoys setting up.

The details of what your relationship had turned into were mostly lost on you. All you knew was that whatever the Russian says goes...and Kate was bound to get punished for not doing as she was told.

As much as Yelena loves to complain about it, you all know she secretly loves it. Loves the thrill that comes with being in charge. That safe rush that takes over her mind and allows her to act without thinking. To command respect in a way she'd never experienced before.

It was a change of pace from what you were used to with Kate, that was for sure. Despite the uncharted territory, you'd gotten used to it far faster than you would have ever imagined. They both made it easy and there was something about the submission Yelena expected from you that made your heart race.

You'd never experienced anything like it before, but you couldn't deny how much you liked it. How much you craved it when she was gone.

Kate does what she can to make the time without the blonde more bearable. You're thankful for her, for the way she knows what you need without even having to ask, but it's not the same. A part of you feels guilty about it. Like there's something wrong with you for wanting to have both of your girlfriends with you.

The archer doesn't seem to mind, though. You know she feels the exact same way you do. As incredible as being with each other is, Yelena brings something different to your relationship. Something extra that you both thrive off of.

Maybe that's what makes Kate employ such...interesting persuasion tactics.

Once the days turn into weeks which turn into a month, the archer's patience wears thin. Just because you both know Yelena's silence must be due to a dangerous mission doesn't mean you're okay with the lack of communication.

Your impatience starts blending with Kate's and before you know it, you're caught in the middle of one of her "incredible" plans.

"Come on, babe," she says, her lips pulling into that all-familiar smirk. "Maybe all Yelena needs is a good incentive. Don't you want her to see what a good girl you're being for me?"

Her words do a good job convincing you, but they're not enough. You know all too well how cruel the Russian can be when she feels she's been disrespected. And the archer playing with you without permission is definitely off-limits.

It's hard to deny Kate when she's looking at you like that, though. With those sparkling eyes and that suggestive smirk.

"I don't know, Katie, it feels like a bad idea," you reply, ignoring the way she keeps leaning closer and closer to you.

"Maybe but bad ideas are the most fun, aren't they?"

You can't exactly argue with that, considering the many stupid things you've done together that have led to incredible pleasure. Although, truth be told, the archer is usually the one who has to bear the burden of whatever punishment comes after. You wish you could say you feel bad about that but...she is the one who comes up with most ideas.

You're in the middle of trying to form a response when Kate leans in to capture your lips in a heated kiss. It's impossible to stop yourself from kissing her back, your hands moving up to tangle in her messy hair.

You pull her closer to you until she's straddling your lap, practically trapping you between her and the couch. You'd love to complain, but she feels far too good against you for you to even try.

Her kisses make your mind spin until nothing remains except her. She knows this, of course, because she knows you so damn well.

When she pulls away, she's breathless yet somehow still smiling like you put the stars in the sky. "I think you're coming around to my idea."

She's not wrong but the smugness in her tone pisses you off a little. "I still think it's stupid."

"I never said it wasn't." Kate rolls her hips, tantalizingly grinding down against you. "But I promise you'll have a good time."

You groan as your head leans back against the couch with a soft thump. "You're gonna get us in so much trouble."

"Yelena loves her little troublemakers, though."

"Oh my God, please stop talking."

"Not until you agree." Her lips find their way onto your jaw, pressing soft kisses and teasing bites to your skin. "...please."

It's a low blow and he knows it, but it's impossible to deny the archer when she asks for things so nicely. "Ugh, fine, just don't tie the ropes so tight this time."

Kate agrees and before you know it, you're naked and tied up with the purple rope the archer loves to use on you. To top everything off, she wrapped her collar around your neck, something that was bound to get a reaction out of the Russian.

You and Kate were her pets and while she allowed the archer to stake some claims of dominance over you, this one was off-limits. Not that Kate cared much. She was usually a lot better at doing things behind the blonde's back, though.

What Yelena didn't know didn't hurt her, but now, she was about to be dragged into something she wasn't going to be very happy to see.

Sending her pictures of the evidence is one thing, but Kate wants more. She always does.

So, she brings out more toys, stuffing your cunt with a thick dildo and pressing a relentless vibrator to your puffy clit. The pleasure is more than enough to drown out your thoughts and objections which means you barely flinch when Kate takes her phone out again. She records the way you squirm for her, the way you moan her name like a prayer, and then, to top it all off, she sends the videos to a very pissed off Russian.

It takes a while for the consequences of the archer's actions to catch up to you.

Since Yelena's obviously busy, it takes her a few days to come back. You're not home when she arrives, having gone out to run a quick errand, but Kate is. 

Which means you're met with quite the situation on your return.

The second you close the apartment door behind you, you're slammed against it, a gentle yet firm hand wrapping itself around your throat. You freak out for about a second until your senses catch up to reality and the smoky scent of Yelena's cologne hits your nose.

Almost instantly, you relax into her hold and meet her dark green eyes. There are so many words on the tip of your tongue, but you can tell she's not in the mood for it. Her mind is completely set on the scene she already started without you.

"Hi, detka. Did you miss me?"

You do your best to nod despite how difficult her grip on your throat makes it.

"Yes? Well, that is not what Kate Bishop told me a few days ago. She said you were being a naughty slut for her."

Her words make your heart drop into your stomach. You knew Kate's plan was stupid, but you didn't think she would throw you under the bus like that. What a cheeky little traitor.

"Do not worry, kotenok, Kate and I already worked things out. Would you like to see?"

Without waiting for a response, she moves her hand from your throat to your hand, gently tugging on it to lead you toward the living room. You go with her and your eyes are instantly drawn to Kate's figure on the couch, tied up in a pattern strikingly similar to the one she'd used on you mere days ago.

The biggest difference, though, is the large, purple dildo stuffed inside her cunt. Just from looking at her, you know exactly what her punishment is going to be for stepping out of line the way she did. You have to admit, though, she looks incredible like this. Gagged and wearing her purple collar with the leash attached.

"What do you think?" Yelena asks, her tone giving away how proud she is of herself.

"She looks good," you reply, earning yourself a smile from the Russian and a muffled whine from the archer.

As much as you sympathize with Kate, you can't say you didn't warn her.

A soft squeeze to your hand makes you turn to look at Yelena again. There's a familiar softness in her features as she looks at you, almost as if she's trying to read you, trying to figure out if you're on the same page as her. You know where that insecurity comes from and you're more than ready to wipe any and all doubts from her mind.

It's easier said than done, though, and the first step is always the hardest.

Thankfully, Yelena takes it for you.

"Kneel."

It's a single word, barely a command, but the storms hidden in her green eyes don't lie. She needs this just as much as you need her.

So, even though you crave comfort more than submission right now, you do exactly what she says. You drop down onto your knees in the middle of the living room, doing your best to ignore the way Kate squirms on the couch.

Yelena steps forward, her hand reaching out to caress your face. "You look so good like this, malishka. You understand pets should be seen and not heard, right? Or do I need to teach you a lesson too?"

You shake your head, not feeling particularly enthused about receiving a punishment already. Then again, you're sure if the blonde really wanted to, she'd do it anyway, regardless of your good behavior.

"Good."

It's not entirely praise, but her voice carries a twinge of affection that makes Kate whine. You don't know what happened between them, what exactly the archer did to piss off the blonde so much, but you know she's paying for it now. Which means, in some weird way, you're paying for it too.

Yelena admires you for a long moment, silently watching your reactions, watching the way you submit deeper and deeper with eveyr second that goes by. She loves Kate, she really does, but there's something about the ease with which she can control you that does things to her that she can't explain.

It's not about the pleasure. At least, not fully.

It's not even about the power she holds over you right now.

It's about the control. About being able to not worry and know you'll do exactly what she wants.

She doesn't have to guess or think too hard. 

You're both on opposite ends of the same spectrum. You both need each other to stop the fears and the worries. To quiet your thoughts until nothing remains but each other...and the whiny, puppy-like switch squirming on the couch.

It's strange, but it works. You all work. And it's absolutely terrifying because none of you have ever experienced anything like this before. You've never wanted anything the way you want each other.

"What do you want from me tonight, detka?" The blonde asks, her voice still soft despite the hardness on her face. "I will give you anything you desire."

Her words carry far more weight than you want to think about right now. You want to simply focus on the scene. On the role you have to play here.

It's hard, though, when Yelena's looking at you with an adoration that rivals Kate's. It's not like the Russian doesn't love you. You know she does. She just shows it in ways that aren't super compatible with you.

Right now, though...right now, it's working for you far more than it should be. All you can think about is how much you missed her, how badly you want to be under her control once more.

You're not sure how to articulate what you're looking for. All you can do is hope the blonde can make sense of the messy thoughts in your head.

"I just want you," you reply, your words a touch too vulnerable for your liking. "Want you to take control. To touch me until I can't take it anymore."

After spending the past few weeks taking orders from rich people who pay well but don't understand what it takes to kill a person, your request sounds like music to her ears. It's almost laughable how easy it'll be to fufill your desires, to give you exactly what you want until you can't think about anything else but her.

"I can work with that," she says, the corners of her mouth curling up into a wicked smirk. "As long as you are okay without Kate Bishop?"

The question catches you a little off-guard. Not because you're particuarly in need of the stubborn archer, but because she is. Yelena's a good domme, no one can deny that, and yet she hesitates to use you without Kate breathing down her neck.

She must be really pissed off if she wants to keep her off to the side and away from the action.

"Yeah, I'm okay with that." Your words are true, but you can't deny your curiosity so you push a little more. "Is she only allowed to watch?"

"Until I decide she has learned her lesson."

 Yelena's response makes Kate cry out again. All the blonde has to do is look up and glare to get her to quiet down. It's scary how angry she seems to be...and also really, really hot.

Especially when she looks back down at you and her eyes soften. "Present yourself for me, kotenok. Remind me what I have been missing."

You don't waste any time in scrambling into position. Kate's eyes seem to burn through you while you get onto your hands and knees in front of Yelena, pushing your ass back just a little. 

Despite the clothes you're still wearing, you feel incredibly exposed.

That feeling only intensifies as the blonde walks around you, circling you slowly and taking in every inch of your body. You're not sure where to look, stuck between wanting to duck your head in a show of submission and keeping your eyes on Kate, watching the frustration that blooms across her beautiful features.

Thankfully, Yelena doesn't like keeping you guessing. She enjoys clear commands, leaving none of you with doubts about what she's looking for. "Keep your eyes on her, datka. You too, Kate Bishop."

You let out a hum in response while the archer in front of you huffs and squirms around in her restraints. You have to admit...the sight is incredible.

The Russian settles behind you, a callused hand reaching out to caress down your spine. It takes you a second longer to realize you feel more than just her hand. However, as soon as the thought hits you, she steals them all away with a precise slice of her trusty combat knife.

It shouldn't be surprising, and yet you still gasp, your back arching while she cuts away your clothes. "Do not worry, detka, Kate Bishop will you buy a new outfit. Isn't that right, pet?"

Kate all but glares at you. You know it's not about you. Whatever issues they're having are unfortunatly being worked out through you, but you're not the problem. Hell, maybe there isn't even a problem. Maybe they're just having fun pushing back against each other because they can.

You honestly don't know. But the uncertainty makes everything all the more pleasurable. At least for you. You're not sure the archer can say the same thing.

Yelena makes quick work of your clothes, allowing them to drop to the ground and reveal your dripping cunt. You can't see her smirk, but you feel it in the way her fingers skim over your skin. Light enough to tease but hard enough to remind you not to move. To stay nice and still while she has her fun.

"Look at you. So desperate already. You truly amaze me, kotenok. Always so ready for me to use your pretty holes."

Your walls clench around pure air, making the smirk on the blonde's face grow wider. She can't stop herself from sinking onto her knees behind you and reaching out to touch you.

Two fingers tease and prod at your entrance while she watches you shake and shudder under her touch. She spreads your lips apart just to watch the way your cunt flutters around nothing. A part of her wants to draw this out, you're sure of it, but she's missed you just as much as you've missed her. (Maybe more, but she'd never admit that out loud. Especially not with Kate around)

"You are so good for me, so perfect. All for me to use."

You open your mouth to reply, more out of instinct than a need to say something, but all that comes out is borderline pathetic moan as the blonde works her fingers into your pussy. 

She sets a slow pace, almost as if she's taking her time exploring you. The slow speed does little to soothe the fire burning low in your belly but it does help ease your desperation. Not by much, of course, and you're sure the blonde knows that.

Almost as if on cue, Yelena's other hand joins the fun, thumb drawing circles on your sensitive clit. The action catches you off-guard and you barely manage to balance yourself instead of falling face-first onto the ground below you.

Your reaction makes her laugh, but what really entertains her is the struggle Kate is visibly going through. 

The archer has always thrived off your pleasure. Always gotten off on your desperate sounds, on the way you lose control over your body, on the palpable desperation that stretches itself over your features. Today is no different. Except for the fact she can't get off.

Sure, her cunt is stuffed full and the dildo keeps rubbing up against her in the best way whenever she squirms around too much, but it's not nearly enough. Her clit throbs painfully, swollen and in desperate need of attention. She won't be getting anything right now, though. Not until Yelena decides she's learned her lesson...or until Kate manages to make herself cum.

"Look at her, malyshka. And here I thought you were the needy one."

You do look at Kate, more out of habit than anything else. She's a vision. Flushed, desperate, and so squirmy it's a miracle she hasn't fallen off the couch.

The sight of her makes you clench around Yelena's fingers, greedily trying to pull them in deeeper. Neither of you are surprised, but it does make the blonde a little more competitive than usual.

She suddenly increases her speed, curling her fingers just enough to have you pushing back against her in search of more. "Such a greedy little pet. You are lucky I like seeing you like this. Although..."

Her words trail off and you instantly know she's coming up with something new. Some other way of making you submit to her, of playing with both of you until Kate stops trying to be a smartass. You doubt that'll happen, but you know Yelena will try anyway.

Whatever the Russian comes up with, she doesn't say anything more, instead going right back to fucking into your cunt. She works a third finger into your walls, stretching you on the digits while she mercilessly rubs your clit.

You can feel it building. The pleasure reaching and reaching toward a fever pitch that will leave you fuzzy-headed and thoughtless. It's so close. You open your mouth, obediently getting ready to ask for permission like a good pet, when suddenly...she removes her fingers from you.

You try your hardest to hold on to some semblance of composure, but you can't. Not when you were so close and full and feeling so good.

A whine makes its way out of your throat and you promptly earn yourself a hard smack to your ass.

"Do not be a brat. You do not want to join Kate Bishop, correct?"

Your response is instantaneous. "No. I'm sorry."

"I know you are, kotenok. But I still need you to behave, okay?"

You nod and Yelena smiles at your quick change of mood. She doesn't say anything else, merely motions for you to crawl forward, toward Kate and the mess between her legs.

Your body moves before you can even comprehend what you're doing. You crawl toward the archer, coming to a stop right between her spread legs, courtesy of Yelena shifting her around until she was sitting up. You tilt your head back to look up at the blonde, waiting slightly impatiently for her command.

You have a feeling you already know what it's going to be.

Yelena takes her time, though. Pretending to be busy adjusting Kate's posture and spreading her thighs for you to see the mess she's made of herself.

Once she's satisfied, and your nose is full of the scent of the archer's arousal, she finally tells you to move. "You know what to do, detka. Make the brat scream your name."

If Kate has any objections, they're swallowed up by her moans once your tongue finds its way onto her clit. It practically pulses beneath you and you waste no time wrapping your lips around the bud and sucking. Hard.

The archer tries to squirm away from you, caught somewhere between her sensitivity and her desperate need for an orgasm. Yelena holds her steady while she keeps her eyes on you. She doesn't really need to, she already knows you know what to do.

You technically don't have permission to touch so you put all your focus into making Kate fall apart with just your mouth. The frantic bucking of her hips tells you all you need to know about how she's feeling. You've never been so jealous of a dildo before, wishing it was your fingers she was clenching around instead.

The archer doesn't seem to mind, though, head thrown back against Yelena, muffled whines leaving her gagged mouth. Whatever the blonde is saying to her is a mere whisper, a secret between them, perfectly crafted to make her fall apart.

You double your efforts, sucking her clit and dragging your tongue along the surface. Your eyes are glued to her face, to the pleasure that spreads along every inch of it, to the rapid heaving of her chest as she tries to keep herself under control. It's useless, though. You all know she's on the edge of losing her composure. Of letting her usual brattiness fade away until all that remains is Yelena's power over her.

Kate's shaking increases in intensity, giving away just how close she is to falling apart. She can't exactly ask for permission due to being gagged but then again, she doesn't need to. Yelena already knows. She always knows.

"Come on, Kate Bishop. Do not tell me you forgot the rules already. I was hoping I would be able to reward you for doing such a good job."

The archer bucks into your mouth, making you moan against her. The vibrations do little to soothe the burning in her core and it takes all her willpower to not fall apart right then and there.

All she can do, though, is let out a string of incoherent mumbles, tinged with a whiny edge that makes Yelena smirk. Those sounds are nowhere near the words she's meant to be saying, the desperate begging the blonde loves hearing from her.

"It sounds like someone does not want the reward I'm offering. What a shame..." She trails off purposely, doing it just to mess with the archer's head.

Kate bites. Of course, she does. As much as she loves to pretend, and as stubborn as she can be most days, she loves this. Loves the rush that comes with the blonde's power over her. There's pleasure in the pushback, but it's when she lets go that she truly feels the weight of it.

You don't slow down for a second. You know it makes things much harder for your girlfriend, but you can't really help it. You're intoxicated by the smell of her, by the taste of her never-ending arousal.

She continues to let out strings of mumbles and whines, each sound growing more desperate than the last. Her thighs shake uncontrollably, giving away just how much she's struggling to hold her orgasm off.

As mean as Yelena can be sometimes, she's not cruel. She only drags the moment out for a few extra seconds before her hand curls into Kate's hair, dragging her head back to expose her delicate throat. "I know, I know. Go ahead, cum for me, darling. You did good."

It's unclear which part of the Russian's words gets to the archer, but it doesn't matter, the effect is the same.

Her whole body stills for a second, a strangled cry getting caught in her throat as she comes undone.

You moan with her which helps drag out the pleasure crashing into her like waves. You work overtime to lap up her release, drinking in her essence and soothing her overwhelming sensitivity as best as you can. It doesn't seem to work considering how violent her shaking becomes, but you don't have any complaints.

Yelena's hand somehow finds its way onto your hair next and she pulls you off the whining archer. "Such a good pet for me. Good girl, kotenok. Will you help me with Kate? She is...a little out of it."

You know what she means. Mainly because you can see it but also because of the way the blonde drops off Kate's last name. You're not fully sure why she has such a fascination with using your girlfriend's full name all the time. All you know is her habit instantly dissapears when the archer's submissive side comes out.

It's not too surprising, though, considering how badly Kate craves comfort and connection in those moments.

A part of you wants to complain since you still haven't gotten your orgasm, but you know better.

You stand up on shaky legs and help Yelena untie the brunette. Leaving the collar on is a no-brainer and even though her whines are pitiful, you slide the dildo out of her.

You pepper kisses across her skin the entire time, instantly recognizing how glossy her eyes are, how far away her mind seems to be. She's as beautiful as ever, in your opinion.

In no time, the three of you are snuggled up in bed. Kate's still really floaty, you're on the edge of going totally fuzzy, and Yelena is happier than she's been in weeks. 

Maybe it's weird but you really don't fucking care. Not when Kate's head is resting in your lap and you're completely relaxed lounging in between Yelena's legs.

[hrrtshape]

⠀⠀⠀⠀hogwarts sex ed 101 . . . there wasn't one ,

ok so. sex ed at hogwarts. 1977. marauders era. the year god said 'what if i put all the bisexuals in one school and didn't teach them a single thing about genitals, boundaries, or the consequences of dry humping in a cupboard.' he did. welcome to the british wizarding education system. funded by divorce, powered by unresolved tension. narrated by emma. you're welcome for this very necessary and useful piece of information.

so. no. there wasn't sex ed at hogwarts. like. not even the ghost of it. not even a euphemism. not even a pamphlet. there was one stained copy of magical maturity and you in the infirmary and it was locked in a drawer under madam pomfrey's shame. it had illustrations. they moved. someone cursed it in '62 so now it plays low moaning sounds when you turn the pages. sirius black used to check it out "for research" and then giggle in the common room like a french exchange student who just learned the word "thrust."

you've got to understand. this was a school that thought putting a werewolf in an abandoned manor once a month and praying no one opens it was a viable health plan. sex ed??? no. they had banshee management for beginners. they had magical menses: a guide to not hexing your classmates when you're bleeding. they had one seminar on unwanted transformations during puberty but it was mostly about not turning into a beetle when you get horny. which. relatable.

the only people who talked about sex were the portraits. and they were weird about it. sir cadogan once tried to explain contraception using a metaphor involving dragon intestines and a chastity spell invented by merlin's ex. it did not clear things up. students got all their info from older cousins, contraband witch weekly issues, and the backs of chocolate frog cards where someone had scribbled "you can't get pregnant if you're on top" in green ink. wrong. so wrong.

the boys' dorm smelled like socks, and something evil. every time someone mentioned "wand length," james potter made a joke and remus lupin visibly aged five years. lily evans read the female eunuch under her duvet with a stolen wandlight and had a moral crisis every thursday. mary macdonald was the only person in the entire school who knew what a clitoris was. so she became god. people asked her questions like she was the oracle of delphi but for genitals. "mary, can you get pregnant from a bubble-head charm?" "mary, what's foreplay?" "mary, why do my pants feel weird when snape talks about potions?" (and he talked a looooot about them. subtle foreshadowing). my girl was busy. marlene was up there too but she never spoke out so she never got her own hotline.

sex was happening. everywhere. god knows it, i know it, you now know it too. in greenhouses, in empty classrooms, in the astronomy tower. it was a budget rom-com with trauma. there was a rumour that if you made out under the whomping willow at the exact moment it smacked a bird out of the air, you'd lose your virginity by osmosis. again, wrong. someone tried it. got concussed.

teachers pretended none of it existed. mcgonagall's sex talk was "don't get caught." dumbledore's was just making intense eye contact with you over a lemon drop and saying "magic is a sacred bond." slughorn had absolutely hosted orgies in the '20s. sprout once gave a lecture on pollination that made half the class cry and the other half extremely confused about flowers.

if you asked filch where babies came from, he'd say "the ministry" and limp away. if you asked peeves, he'd mime something unspeakable and then chant "one-two buckle-my-shoe, syphilis is after you!" honestly not even the worst advice.

but. like. this wasn't unique to hogwarts. this was just. britain. the 70s. everyone was either having sex or terrified of it or convinced it could be cured with chamomile tea. sirius black had a whole phase where he thought wanking made you go blind. he wore sunglasses for three weeks. refused to explain.

anyways. do not confundus your girlfriend's uterus. do not confundus anything. read a book. read two books.

also let's talk shame. catholic levels of repression. protestant levels of awkwardness. dionysian levels of impulse control. no one knew what they were doing and everyone was pretending. people said stuff like "deflowering" and meant it. they thought it was romantic. they thought love looked like sneaking into the potions dungeon and dry-humping to the sound of dripping cauldrons. they thought "i want to feel your magic inside me" was a line. it was not. it was a red flag on fire.

⠀⠀⠀so. was there sex ed at hogwarts?

no. but there was sexual miseducation. there were bad metaphors. there were prefects giving unsolicited advice in the lav.

and if you're wondering where i was in all this . . . i was that girl. i saw everything. i judged everyone. i'm dating a slytherin boy and i'm never confessing anything, even if the lord shall taketh me away no. absolutely not. expelliarmus.

i'm not saying i saved hogwarts. but i did tape an illustrated anatomy chart to the wall of the girls' bathroom and label it in four languages. i did distribute cursed zines about safe sex that moaned when opened. i did hex someone's trousers off for saying "girls don't get horny." you're welcome, feminists.

sex ed at hogwarts was me. and mary. and trauma. and bad latin. and the slow, horrible realisation that magic doesn't replace literacy.

we learned. painfully. and now i'm sharing it.

⠀i do have a masterlist where you can catch all of my stories oh em gee.....

[clemswinecorner]

Take a break [Harry Lewis/W2S]

Summary: When something's off with Harry, there's probably only one person that can make him feel better: his girlfriend.

Wordcount: 2.1k

Warnings: a bit of anxiety ish and mentioning of a potential burnout. Nothing extremely angsty :)

I'm back! Except not with a driver fic, sorry for these followers. I want to upload more UK YouTube fics so if you like this make sure to follow :))

Main Masterlist

It was Tobi that shot Y/N a text that afternoon. She was sitting in a random café working, rounding off her things before going home, and Harry was somewhere around London recording. Hey Y/N, I think smth is up with Harry. Dunno if anything has been bothering him recently, js wanted to let u know. He acts fine on camera but if ure near, could you hop by? we just finished up the vid, he’ll be in the studio recording the podcast w me josh and Ethan. It didn’t take much convincing, and since she was nearly done, she was in the studio an hour later. One of the production members opened the door, “Hey, I didn’t know you would come by,” the girl smiles at her. “No, wasn’t in the plans, but just picking up Harry,” Y/N explains, walking into the building. When she walks into the studio, Harry is simply listening to a story Ethan is telling, staring into the distance with his mind visibly somewhere else. Tobi spots her before Harry does, greeting her with a subtle nod. She smiles at him as she sits down behind the lights and cameras, out of view. “I know this is a podcast, but I need to pee really bad, can we do a short break please?” Tobi suggests once Ethan is done with his story. He looks at the production members, as Ethan nods in agreement, “yeah, regroup in 10 minutes then. I’ll keep everything rolling, just so you know,” Tobi nods and stands up, walking out the Studio. He gives Y/N a quick smile when passing her, and she stays seated as the boys all relax. “I’m hungry, haven’t eaten much today,” Ethan stands up as Harry pulls out his phone. He nudges the Guernsey boy, “D’you want anything?” To which Harry shakes his head. Ethan frowns but moves away from the desk nonetheless, as Y/N stands up. “Oh, hey, didn’t know you were here!” Ethan says as he passes her. She smiles, hugging him back quickly. “Yeah, I was around, so I figured I’d come by,” she explains. At the sound of the new voice, Harry’s head slowly perks up. A tired smile forms on his face as they make eye contact, with her nodding her head to signal him over. He stands up and walks over to the pair, making Josh look over, giving the girl a quick wave, which she returns. “Hi,” she softly smiles as she lets him embrace her. “Hey, are you okay?” She nods. “Yeah, did you eat anything yet? I heard Ethan just now,” He softly shakes his head as they pull apart, “No, haven’t been too hungry,” he admits, and she sighs with a knowing look. “Don’t forget yourself, Harry. When you’re done, we’re getting some food, yeah. I’ll order it during the recording, and we’ll go pick it up, go home, and have a night us to, yeah. Maybe all of tomorrow, too?” She suggests, and he nods. “Thank you,” He quietly replies, wrapping his arm around her to press a kiss on her hair. 

As they get back to recording the last part of the podcast, Y/N sits back in her original spot. She now finds Harry looking over more often, and she sends him a smile every time. He seemed a bit more relaxed, a bit more involved in the conversations. He was laughing, that stupid half-assed laugh, that made him look too damn cute. She hated it, though— she hated how she could tell he just laughed because of the cameras. Even if he liked the joke, the smile didn’t reach his eyes the way it usually would. Soon enough the recording’s done, and Harry is given the green light to go, the rest of the crew all seeing the tiredness in his body language. As they stand at the car, Tobi has walked out after them to give them a quick goodbye. “See you later bro, take care, yeah?” He simply tells Harry as they clap hands, before the younger steps into the passenger seat. He gives Y/N a proper hug, “Thanks for coming, let me know how he’s doing, please?” She nods as they let go. “Yeah, thanks for texting. He looks pretty overwhelmed, and he didn’t eat much breakfast either, so…” Tobi sighs, as he looks towards the car. “We didn’t really have time to eat, I should’ve pushed to get lunch more,” Y/N shrugs. “Not much to do now. Again, thanks for looking out for him. I’ll see you soon, yeah?” He nods. “Yeah, thank you too. See you Friday,” he mentions, reminding her of the Sidemen’s anniversary party. “See you then, bye Tobi!” She says, stepping into the car. Harry looks up at her with a questioning look on his face, “What were you chatting about?” He asks, dropping his phone in his lap. She looks at him for a second, “Tobi texted me when you were done with the video if I could hop by. He said you acted fine on camera, but something was off, and I was nearly done with work anyway so I wanted to pick you up. He just asked me to let him know if you were okay,” She answers honestly, to which he nods slowly. “Hmm.” A short silence falls between them as she gets settled, looking over at him before turning the key. “Are you, okay?” She asks. He doesn’t reply immediately, fiddling with his phone. “I- I don’t really, uhh, I dunno. I’ve just… It’s weird, I, uh…” He doesn’t seem to find the words, so she puts her hand on his thigh. “That’s okay. You don’t have to talk, we can get home, have some food, maybe a cuddle, and then talk. Or cry, or scream, or say nothing. Whichever, yeah?” He nods as she squeezes his thigh before moving her hand back to the steering wheel. His hands automatically find her body as they pull out the car park, making her smile subconsciously. “Oh, and there’s something else Tobi mentioned, which I almost forgot. We are going to the Sidemen party, which you probably conveniently forgot is this Friday,” she changes the subject, making him groan in fake annoyance.

Y/N collects the food they ordered, and after a short ride with some soft background music, they’re carrying the bags of food inside. “If you want to change, you can do that now, we can watch a movie or some Brooklyn 99. Do you want a drink?” She asks, as he walks towards the bedroom. He nods, “Just a tea please,” he asks, before changing into his pyjamas. She makes them their drinks, making herself an iced tea, and puts them on the coffee table. Walking back to the kitchen to get the bags of food, she sees Harry taking out the plates and cutlery, and smiles at him. “Do you want to watch anything?” He looks at her and shrugs, “Just something quick. Did you watch the race?” He asks, and she nods. “I had it on, yeah, but was working during it. We can watch the race in 30?” She suggests as they sit down on the couch. He nods, leaning over the table to make himself a plate of food. “Yeah, sounds good,” he says, as she finds the compilation of the latest Formula One race. Harry sits closely next to her, thighs touching each other and occasionally leaning backwards, putting his head on her shoulder. 

He was tired, she could tell, and by the time they’d finished the food he was lying on her lap. She softly combs through his hair as the F1 outro played, and she sighs. “Are you alright?” She asks, and he’s quiet for a minute. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. She motions for him to keep talking, and he sighs. “I’ve just, I’ve been feeling anxious all day and I don’t know why. Didn’t sleep as well either, but that’s not really anything new recently,” he mentions, and she nods. He had been having trouble sleeping recently, falling asleep late and waking up in the middle of the day, unless he had recordings in the morning. “Any reason why? Like, something big happening or a change in something?” He shrugs. “No, not that I can think of. I mean, we have the anniversary coming up and don’t really have anything planned and maybe people will expect something, but that’s not really my doing anyway. I also need to have a video worked out and a more sidemen thing ready by Saturday, but I’ll get that done,” he mentions, rolling his head so he’s looking at her. She looks down at him, looking into his eyes. “I think you should take a break, first, just tonight and tomorrow. No Sidemen business, no YouTube friends, just us. Wasn’t Rosie in Manchester? We could visit her,” she suggests, and he nods. “Yeah, that sounds good,” he softly says. They sit in silence for a bit, thinking about the conversation that just occurred. “If you still feel anxious or weird after that, that’s okay too. We can look into it, if you’ll let me help you, and see what makes you feel better, yeah?” She breaks the silence. He bites his lips as he hesitantly nods. “Hmm. I’m just worried it’s a lasting thing. I’ve got nothing to be stressed about really, people like Simon and JJ are doing way more than I am yet here I am,” he expresses his concerns. “Well, you’ve been doing this for over a decade, baby, and even when you quit uploading you started doing more things for the channel. That and recording not only for the Sidemen but also all of your friends’ channels, plus all the behind the scenes stuff you’re involved in, it’s not hard to be burnt out or overwhelmed,” He nods, fiddling with their hands. “It just feels so unfair to take a break, when I have lots of time off already. I have the one of the easier jobs on the Sidemen channel, you know,” She looks up for a second, thinking about his statement. “Hmm. For you, yeah, but I think Lucy wouldn’t want to switch with you. Just because it’s fun and comes naturally to you doesn’t mean it’s easy, and you don’t work hard,” She explains, to which he nods. “Hmm, I guess that’s true,” he agrees. She shuffles around a bit, and Harry raises his head so she can sit more comfortably. “And like, you have time off, but when do you actually? You’re always recording, or golfing, or on a date with me, which is nice, and you’re busy which is good, and it’s fun, but you know… You need to take care of yourself, have some time for you, as well.” He sighs as he sits up. “Whenever I’m with you is enough. But I do need more time without anything else, maybe,” he admits, grabbing his cup of tea from the table. She smiles at him, “I know you love them, but I know you as well, you’re an introvert. We spend all your other time together, too, which I obviously have zero problems with, but you need your alone time, too,” He looks at her over the rim of his glass. “Don’t be silly, I never need time away from you. Like, I consider nights like this alone time. I can recharge with you,” he sheepishly smiles at her, and she blushes. “I… Wait, that is actually so cute,” She leans against his chest, and he chuckles, wrapping his arms around her. “It’s true,” he simply says, and she giggles. She looks up at him to see him already looking down at her with the same smile still on his face. Despite dating for over two years, it still felt like the honeymoon stage, and the look in their eyes’ says enough. Harry smiles before he presses his lips against hers, and she smiles into the kiss.

Their cups of tea were long forgotten as they get even closer to each other, the kiss filled with love instead of the lust they sometimes were. They both smile into the kiss, just taking in each other's presence, until the sound of the Formula One intro promptly makes them pull away. “Jesus Christ,” Harry just says as Y/N leans into his chest, giggling at the scare. Harry looks for the remote, turning off the video that autoplayed. He looks at her with a loving smile, as she looks up again. “Right, where were we?”