#now you just don’t remember all the things you said

[imsofreakingtired]

what if you and Sevika had a lesbian situationship divorce and she goes on a shimmer bender crashout

content warnings: blood, violence, self-destructive thoughts, uhmm chaotic angst

like she just doesn’t stop using it. she has a belt full of Shimmer cartridges and uses three at a time whether she’s fighting or just needs a kick, an escape.  

uses it even when she goes to the brothel and just picks any girl who looks remotely like you. she sees you in the sky, hears your voice echo through the streets, feels your hands on her skin when she’s in the gardens, thinks if she closes her eyes she can almost believe the girl she’s with is actually you. calls out your name huskily when she comes. hates herself for it but can’t stop the cycle. and she always fucks on Shimmer, rushing through her veins. making everything dizzy and hot.

she does it even more because she remembers how you always scolded her for using Shimmer, saying it would eventually destroy her. a part of her wants to destroy herself for leaving you. a part of her hopes you’ll save her before she does. 

one night she gets caught up in a street fight and takes on like ten muggers at once. they have knives and masks and want her Shimmer supply, she laughs with the freedom of a woman who has lost all hope. last thing she remembers is thinking, “oh, baby’s not gonna like this.”

you hear a bang on your door in the middle of the night and you jump out of your half-sleep, a knife in your hand. you’re so sure the enforcers finally found you and you know you’re not going down without a fight. you open the door, gripping the blade so tight your palm aches. but there are no enforcers. it’s just Ran, their eyes wide and desperate. they’re propping up a lifeless figure, knees nearly buckling under the weight. Sevika. 

your first thought: Oh Janna. I’ve lost her. 

the knife falls to the floor with a clatter. you open the door wide enough to let Ran in, more dragging Sevika than walking her. you cast a swift look up and down the street to make sure they had no unwanted company following them, then you shut the door firmly and run over to help Ran prop Sevika in a chair. 

“I was gonna take her to Singed,” Ran explains. “but do you know what she said? ‘fuck Singed. i’m not going to Singed.” 

Ran looks at you. “she told me to take her to you, or let her bleed out in the street.” 

you fall to your knees in front of Sevika, and you try to keep your hands from shaking as you inspect her. she’s in bad shape. her mech arm is broken and shimmer leaks out from its wires onto the floor. her shirt is torn and bloody. her face is darkened with bruises and blood, but even in this state you’re confident that whatever she did to the goons that attacked her was ten times worse. 

she stirs awake, half-conscious. grey eyes look up at you in a haze. you wish she hadn’t. you wish she just stayed unconscious. because now that she’s giving you those eyes you can’t even remember why you were angry, you can’t even remember the emotion itself. 

you want to cling to even the memory of being angry at her, just so you don’t fall apart looking at her like this. 

“help me move her to the bed,” you tell Ran, and together you prop Sevika up again and lay her down on your bed. you barely notice the Shimmer staining your clothes, all you can see is the shallow rise and fall of her chest. 

“i can take it from here,” you tell Ran. “thanks.” 

“just…keep her alive.” 

when Ran is gone, you set to work cleaning the wounds. the cuts aren’t as deep as you feared, only one - a gash across her right forearm -  needing stitches. Sevika stirs and groans just as you finish dressing the cuts. she mutters something. you lean in close and hear her whispering your name.

“i gotta tell her…” Sevika trails off. “i gotta tell her i’m sorry.” 

something fails in your heart when you hear this. you smooth her hair out of her eyes and kiss her forehead. 

“i’m right here, you idiot.” 

Sevika’s eyes open and rest on your face. and you’re thinking fuck, fuck. whatever she did or said to hurt you didn’t come close to the sharp pain of seeing her expression relax, her eyes soften with relief. you take her face in your hands, rubbing her cheek with your thumb. 

“i’m sorry, too.”

[mggslover]

spencer and readers first fight ! can you possiblyyyy do something along the lines of spencer said something sassy/petty/mean which results in reader giving spencer the silent treatment and he crashes out begging for her to speak to him 🤓☝🏼

your first fight with spencer genre: slight angst, fluff word count: 1,7k a/n: i've been so excited to write this one! honestly way too long for a drabble, but i hope you enjoy it

“That’s okay. Your mind wouldn’t be able to comprehend a concept like this."

Spencer didn’t understand the gravity of his words before you huffed out a sigh, placing your hands on your knees as you lifted yourself up from the spot next to him on the couch. His eyes followed your body as you walked straight toward your shared bedroom, opening the door before shutting it behind you with a bang. The click of the lock echoed through the now silent living room.

Spencer sat frozen in place, his gaze fixed on the door as if you’d magically reappear in front of him.

Everything about your body language hinted at you being angry, but he couldn’t grasp why. He replayed the situation back in his head in an effort to decipher the reason.

You had cheerfully greeted him when he entered the apartment. He’d been away on a case for several days, not having had the time to speak to you over the phone or give you any updates on how he was doing.

As much as he preferred keeping clear boundaries between his personal and professional life, Spencer couldn’t resist telling you the details of some of his cases when coming home. Not when the psychology behind the unsubs fascinated him so much. And especially not when you eagerly pulled him toward the couch, pushing him down onto the soft cushions as you handed him a cup of freshly brewed coffee, ready to hear about his day.

You sat cross-legged in front of him, eyes twinkling with admiration as he told you about today’s case. He explained how he discovered a pattern in the way the unsub took his captives, using the numbers 11235 — the first five numerals in the Fibonacci sequence.

He noticed the frown forming between your brows as he got into more detail.

“Can you explain that to me? I don’t get it,” you asked.

“That’s okay. Your mind wouldn’t be able to comprehend a concept like this.”

Spencer wasn’t lying. He remembered how his coworkers had blankly stared at him when he analyzed his theory — how Emily made eye contact with JJ, their silent looks saying there he goes again, and how Hotch had to cut him off to tell him to get to the point. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to explain it to you, he just didn’t see the point in doing so, not when he knew this was a connection only he could understand.

After a couple of minutes, there was still radio-silence. Spencer got up and walked to the bedroom, knocking softly on the door. “Angel? Can you open up for me?”

“Just go away, Spencer.”

Your voice cracked, like you had been crying, and the sound made his heart sink.

“Please open the door so we can talk. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong?” Your scoff vibrated through the door. “I don’t even want to talk to you if you can’t understand what’s wrong.”

Spencer swallowed hard, his hands turning clammy. He didn’t like confrontations and especially not with you. You’d never fought before. Rationally, he knew fights weren’t necessarily a bad thing — conflicts usually stemmed from deeper fears and feelings that get triggered, and confronting these feelings could lead to creating an even stronger bond. But right now, all he wanted was to turn back time and make sure those words never left his mouth.

His mind blanked in situations like these, so the only logical fix he could come up with was to call Derek.

“Hey,” Spencer spoke through the phone, balancing the device between his ear and shoulder as he nervously paced through the living room.

“Hey man. What’s up?”

“I messed up.”

Morgan’s chuckle sounded through the speaker. “Our genius making a mistake. Who would’ve thought the day would come?”

Spencer sighed, losing his patience. “It’s serious.”

Derek paused before responding. “Alright, slow down. Tell me what happened.”

Spencer repeated the conversation for what felt like the hundredth time that day, his guilt accumulating with each repetition. He gulped when he heard Derek take a sharp inhale at the other side of the line. He could almost see him shaking his head.

“Okay,” Derek began. “Now listen to me. When it comes down to it, all women are the same, they just need some loving and appreciation. Go buy her some flowers before the store closes.”

Spencer didn’t need to be told twice. He glanced one last time at the still-locked bedroom door before heading out.

Thankfully, Spencer’s apartment was close to downtown. He hurried into the first flower shop that he spotted, his eyes scanning the bouquets until they landed on a pair of bright colored lilies. The outer corners of the petals shone with a radiant shade of pink, fading into a soft white at the center.

He cleared his throat as he placed the flowers on the counter. “Can I have these, please?”

The woman behind the counter started wrapping them in pink paper, reaching out for lint to tie a bow. “Trouble in paradise?”

Spencer blinked, not often experiencing someone seeing right through him. Besides his coworkers. And you.

“Ya know, I see so many men come in here on the daily. You can just tell they got in trouble with their lady; sweating bullets and rushing to pick a bouquet the second before the store closes.” She twirled the bouquet in her hand as she pulled on the strings of the lint bow. “At least you picked a nice one.”

“Do-,” Spencer hesitated, his voice softening in an uncertain whisper. “Will she forgive me after this?”

“Depends on what ya did,” she answered with a lift of her shoulders. “What I can tell you is that flowers don’t do much fixing.”

Damn it, Derek.

The florist turned around, rummaging through a drawer, before pulling out an envelope and sliding it across the counter.

“Write,” she stated in a single syllable. “We need words. We need to know that you care, and we need you to put more effort into it than paying ten dollars.”

With a new plan in mind, Spencer hurried home. The apartment was still silent when he returned, the door firmly closed and no signs of you having left the bedroom. He sighed and made his way to his desk, shoving aside piles of books and papers until he had enough space to write. He opened the envelope the florist had given him, and carefully pulled out a sheet of blank stationary.

My Lover Dearest,

It is ironic that I have read so much poetry and so many books in my life, and yet I cannot find the words to describe how much you mean to me.

Sometimes, I find it difficult to believe that someone as wonderful as you would want to be with me. That I’m allowed to deserve the love that you give me.

My mind works in strange ways, and as much as you’ve praised me for it, it can work as a curse as well. I am scared to overwhelm you, to talk your ears off (which would be a shame, because you have beautiful ears) to the point that you grow tired of me.

I never had the intention to cause you pain, or to initiate that you’re any less brilliant than you are. You are the brightest part of my life. I feel grateful every time I get to talk to you, and I would love nothing more than to explain any concept you’d want me to. I’m sorry for not having understood that before.

I love you. I love you. I have been wanting to tell you this in a special way, please know that I am not just saying this to ask for your forgiveness. I love you.

Sincerely, Spencer

The clock chimed 03.00 a.m. by the time Spencer finished his letter. His hand ached and he could barely keep his eyes open as he stumbled to the bedroom door. He turned the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. With a resigned sigh he slid the letter under the door and sat down against it. It didn’t take long for exhaustion to overtake him.

The repeated knocking of the door against his back woke him.

“Spencer?”

Your voice sounded like a siren, and he instantly scrambled away from the door, allowing you to open it fully.

You stood there, holding the envelope in your hand as your eyes softened when you glanced over him, mouth forming a small oh. “What are you doing here?” you asked in worry.

“The door was locked,” he answered, voice still hoarse from sleep.

A curse escaped your lips as you pressed your hands against your face. “I am so sorry. I must have fallen asleep with the door still locked.”

Spencer’s lips lifted into a small smile, relieved that you hadn’t locked him out intentionally. “It’s okay. Orthopedists actually recommend sleeping on the floor from time to time. Sleeping on a hard surface encourages a more natural position for your spine, which can reduce back pain. It even strengthens certain muscles, so the pressure on your body evens out. As a matter of fact, anthropological studies have shown that-”

He stopped mid-ramble, blushing when he noticed the faint smile tugging on your lips.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’ll stop,”

“Don’t you ever stop,” you replied as you lowered yourself on the ground next to him. You reached for his hands, placing them into your lap.

Spencer’s blush deepened, and he struggled to suppress a grin. Your encouragement reassured him, and he went on about groups in Japan and Tanzania who experience significantly lower rates of back pain due to their minimal use of furniture.

“Spencer,” you gently interrupted after a while.

He blinked at you, seeing the gleam in your eyes as you adoringly stared at him. “Hm?”

“I love you too.”

[my-castles-crumbling]

fire - Jegulus Microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 1367 (whoops)

There were few things Regulus Black valued more than sleep. Perhaps reading. Or music. Or a nice dark roast coffee. But either way, sleep was of the utmost importance. He was even more prickly than normal without at least eight hours of it, and miserable as well, so he always prioritized getting his rest.

Which is why he was ready to kill everyone in his path when the fire alarm was pulled at 2:47 am on a Tuesday night in his university dorm, and he was forced to evacuate into the parking lot.

Not only was the whole thing infuriating, but to make matters worse, it was also freezing outside. The September air was chilling him to his bones, and he could feel his body screaming for shut-eye. It was his definition of hell.

As he stood shivering, a tall, dark-haired, tan-skinned, hazel-eyed boy walked up to him and offered him his coat with the most obnoxiously beautiful grin he’d ever seen.

Too cold to play stupid games, he just hissed, “Fuck off,” and turned away.

As soon as they were all allowed back inside, Regulus curled under his blanket and fell asleep, keen to put the whole miserable experience behind him.

-

No such luck.

It took one week before the alarm went off again. This time at 1:19am on a Thursday, he found himself trudging down the stairs and into the cold, cursing himself for once again being too sleepy to remember a coat.

So furious that he was about to scream, he didn’t see the same boy walk up to him right away, until he felt a tap on his shoulder. 

“I brought you an extra,” the boy grinned, making Regulus’s frozen knees melt as he offered him the jacket.

“Do you make a habit of giving your clothing to strangers?” he bit out, giving in and grabbing the offending garment, immediately throwing it over his shoulders. He figured if he was going to be harassed, he might as well be warm while it happened.

“Only the pretty ones,” the boy said with a wink, walking off and leaving Regulus both pissed off and flustered.

-

The third time happened only three days after the second, and Regulus bit back a scream when the alarm roused him from his slumber. At this point, it felt like a pattern, and he was at least smart enough to grab the oversized, frayed, horrifyingly maroon, disgustingly warm jacket he’d thrown over his desk chair three days ago.

He was only outside for a few minutes before the boy walked up to him again, looking completely comfortable in the frigid night.

“So, do I get to know your name?” he asked, sending Regulus the same stunning smile.

Frowning, at both his current whereabouts and the way his stomach flip-flopped, Regulus scoffed. “I don’t know yours.”

“James,” he answered easily, kicking at a random rock on the pavement. “Now, I’ve given you two things. It makes sense that you should give me one, yeah? Only fair.” And he batted his long eyelashes, making Regulus nearly choke on his spit.

He pretended to ponder for a moment, getting ahold of himself, before rolling his eyes. “No,” he said shortly. And he walked off.

-

“What about your major, then?”

Ten days. It took ten days before the alarm was pulled again, and the school had started sending out cryptic notices threatening consequences for the party responsible. But still, Regulus was here, in the parking lot in the middle of the night, sending a death glare at James.

“Why does it matter?” he asked with a huff.

“Because people tend to care about their majors,” the taller boy shrugged. “And I want to know what you care about. Mine’s education, by the way.”

Education. It fit, strangely. James’s sunshiny disposition warmed the surrounding air even during the cold night, and his smile seemed like the type of thing that would put kids at-ease.

Regulus sighed, giving in. “English. With a minor in creative writing,” he mumbled, looking down.

“Hmm. That suits you,” James replied vaguely, smiling. What the hell was that supposed to mean? “And your name?”

He thought about it for a moment, but at this point, it almost felt like he would be giving in to some sort of weird, unspoken battle if he shared his name. And he had to admit, talking with James passed the time during these stupid evacuations. “No,” he answered, sending the boy a smirk, heart skipping a beat at his own nerve, and turning to find someone else to speak with.

-

It became a game. Every time the alarm was pulled, James found him. He asked him questions, and Regulus answered every one, shocked at the way James listened. It was actually nice to talk to someone who seemed genuinely interested. He hadn’t made a lot of friends on campus, yet, and James felt…safe. But every time James asked his name, he refused, grinning as much as James did, before sauntering away.

-

One cold night in November, though, he couldn’t sleep. Stress about classes had his mind going wild, and anxious energy flooded his body. So, he decided to take a walk through the dorm, to clear his head. He drifted through the floors and halls, no destination in mind, when he happened across one of the more-quiet areas of the building. This area happened to have a fire alarm in a dark corner of the hall, almost hidden in shadows. It was as he turned a corner to this spot that Regulus saw a hooded figure slowly approach the alarm, arm outstretched, intentions clear. 

Eyes wide, Regulus watched as the figure pulled the latch and began to run, turning and smacking right into Regulus.

“Ouch!” He cried out, nearly falling over.

“Fuck!” The person yelled, losing their balance as well.

And then the hood fell. And Regulus would have recognized those hazel eyes and that beautiful hair anywhere.

“James!?!”

The other boy looked terrified, mouth open, his body frozen in place. He uttered a few syllables as if he was trying to form words, but no sound came out. Scoffing, Regulus grabbed his hand and led him down some nearby stairs and out the emergency exit, alarm still blaring overhead.

When they got into the quiet, freezing air, he turned to the taller boy. “It was you?” he hissed, resisting the urge to slap him across the shoulder. The amount of sleep he’d lost in the past two months was abhorrent. “Why?”

James grimaced. “Well…the first two times, it wasn’t! But, y’know, the first time you didn’t have a coat…”

“I remember,” Regulus frowned, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah. And…I couldn’t stop thinking about you. So the second time, I just…grabbed my old one. And when you took it and you looked so…” James gestured to Regulus, eyes wide, cheeks pink. Regulus blinked, trying to understand. Was James saying he looked good in his jacket? “…I couldn’t stop thinking about you, so I just…”

Regulus gaped. “You’ve been pulling the fire alarm to see me?”

“It was only supposed to be a one-time thing! Just to get your name!” James defended himself, looking almost scared. “I didn’t know how to find you, and I just….you have to understand, you’re fucking stunning, you know?”

Blushing furiously, Regulus sputtered, “That’s…well, that’s not…”

“But then you wouldn’t tell me your name! So I had to keep pulling it, you know?” James explained, a desperate look on his face. Like it obviously made sense why he’d been breaking the law for two months. “...Just until I found out.”

He blinked several times before biting his lip. Nobody had ever gone to such lengths to get to know him before. It was stupid, and risky, and idiotic, and so damn romantic.

“My name is Regulus,” he sighed, wondering if he’d regret this. “I live in room 743. And if you ever pull that damn alarm again, and wake me up, I will never speak to you again. Understood?”

James grinned sheepishly. “Yeah. Your name is as beautiful as you are, by the way.”

Regulus could only sigh. What had he gotten himself into?

I also posted this here if you want to go give it some love!

[sloaneispunk]

“mission: impossible”

frontman!in-ho x undercover!you

when in-ho realised there’s an undercover agent in the games midst, he takes actions into his own hands.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

a few days earlier

“you go in, stay focused and get out. you understand?” jun-ho sternly instructed you.

“but what about gi-hun?” you questioned.

“he doesn’t know. i don’t trust him” he replied, looking over his shoulder at the older man who was sitting in the corner. “i trust you.”

your friendship with jun-ho was complicated, he often only called when he needed something done, or when he was in deep shit. this time it was no different, you were reluctant to accept it at first, but after hearing about his brother, in-ho, you were convinced.

the plan was simple: infiltrate the games, make sure gi-hun was working his magic and get the hell out of there.

“what the hell is this, mission impossible?” you laughed as jun-ho let out a chuckle.

“i know what i’m asking of you is alot, but you’re all i got.” he said solemnly, hand on yours. “besides, nothing’s gonna happen to you, i’ll be on the water with the team, finding the island, you’ll be okay.”

present day

it was far from okay.

your covered had been blown and you didn’t even know how. by some unfortunate turn of events, in-ho had you to his quaters, ditching the game completely, leaving gi-hun on his own without him participating as a player.

the last thing you remembered was ending the ‘mingle’ game, in-ho killing another player in cold-blood. then, he snuck up behind you, drugging you with his handkerchief to your nose. when you came to, you were in a completely different place.

you tried to move but you were stuck. you looked down, finding yourself tied to a chair, hands locked behind your back.

you opened your mouth to scream, but just as you did, the door creaked open. it was in-ho. he was dressed in all black, stripped of his tracksuit.

“what are you doing?” you asked, voice shaky with fear as he came nearer and nearer.

“calm down… if i wanted to kill you you’d be dead by now.”

“what…?”

“who sent you?” he questioned, pulling a chair to sit in front of you.

“what do you mean? nobody!” you lied. but he saw right through.

you felt a sting to your cheek, you were now facing the ground, tears springing to your eyes. when you looked back at in-ho, he had a sad expressionon his face, almost like he’d been betrayed.

“y/n, please… don’t lie to me. you’re better than that.” he told you as he cupped your face gently in his hands, but you flinched.

you were scared of him.

“i don’t want to hurt you, y/n.” he said in a low voice.

“what do you want?” you said between hiccups.

“i want to know who you’re working for. who is after me, y/n? is it the cops? fbi?”

“no.”

“then who-”

“jun-ho.” you said barely above a whisper.

his brother?

his mind raced, how were you associated with jun-ho? friends? colleagues? even worse, lovers?

somehow the questions that came to his mind were filled with jealousy. he wasn’t afraid of whether his brother was going to barge into the room at any second, he only cared for your relationship with him.

“i-is he your boyfriend?” he asked, voice laced with hurt.

“what? no! no, he made me come here on his behalf. he wanted to know what was going on in the games…”

“jun-ho sent you?! that bastard could’ve came on his own but he sent you?!” in-ho suddenly bursted, causing you to look away when he threw his chair across the room.

you weren’t wrong, in-ho was infuriated. not because of you, but because of the selfishness of his brother. sending a girl like you helpless into the games, risking your life over his.

“can you untie me now?”

in-ho hesitated, but he followed his heart. somehow he trusted that you wouldn’t hurt him and he was right. when he untied you, you just sat still, not moving a muscle, only muttering a small ‘thank you’

“hey, c’mere.” you slowly walked towards him, head down, not daring to meet his eyes.

he pulled you into his arms, shusing you as you sniffled. you were so confused, what were you supposed to feel? you felt safe? scared? relief? in-ho made you feel things you couldn’t explain. sure, he was the target of this whole mission, but why was it so hard to keep focused.

“do you want to go home? tell me now and all this will stop for you, i’ll let you leave unharmed from the games.” he said, causing you to shoot him a confused look.

“you would do that?” you asked, teary eyes gazing into his.

“for you…”

“i can’t go back without anything to feed jun-ho, he’ll be angry.” you admitted, making him clench his fist with rage, teeth gritted at the mere mention of his brother.

“then stay here, with me.” he suggested, “i can look after you better than my bitch of a brother ever could.”

“i-in-ho, i-i can’t-”

“please, y/n.” he was pleading. “don’t leave me y/n, i have these feelings for you, it’s stronger than pining, stronger than anything. i’ve never felt like this before, i can’t lose you.”

you were speachless, your bottom like quivering at his confession. you thought about it for a moment. he was right, jun-ho only used you when he needed you. you barely had anything back home anyway, no family, no friends, nothing.

you nodded. “what are we going to do with gi-hun?” you asked

we? he liked that.

“i’ll take care of him, don’t worry about it.” he replied, placing a chaste kiss on your forhead.

[thefrontmanscockwarmer]

Just a little bit

In Ho x reader [Smut]

Masterlist <- Comment on this post to be added to the tag list

This is a post inspired by @457gf X link (provided below, it looks just like it would on 457gf’s profile) Please remember to be logged on X (twitter) for the link to work. Thank youuuu.

Hwang “Just the tip” In Ho

Takes place during season 1.

You were late. Late to wake up, late to work, late. He’s gonna kill me you thought. You knew your boss would definitely be the one to shoot you down. He’d be glad to. You said your prayers and walked out your door, struggling to pull your hood over your head correctly.

You were a square mask. Utmost respect, important, you were gonna die today. You knew you. Cold sweats as you walked towards your post. Another square mask turned his head towards you before looking back and straight ahead.

“Come see me in my office. Now.” The Front Man said.

“Yes sir” you spoke, standing and following him to his office. He was angry, you could hear it in each authoritative step he took. He stood in front of you.

“Remove your mask” you bowed and removed it. (Y/n) (l/n)”

“Yes sir. ID code: 001456457” you stated.

“I didn’t ask for your ID code, idiot.” He spat harshly.

“Why were you late?”

“Sir, I was kept up late by the workers being rambunctious” you said. “Workers 014 and 026 kept making noise and horsing around, I had to attend to them sir. As duty manager 001, I am bound to report them and keep them in line”

“I’m aware of what your job entails as 001, I created the job of 001” he said calmly. “(L/n), do you know why you’re placed as manager 001?”

“No sir” you shook your head.

“Because you’re pretty.” He spoke. “Because the closer you are to me, the easier it is for me to get my hands on you and no one care to ask, because you’re so high up, they know you could kill them and get away with it”

“Thank you sir” you bowed.

“No need for thanks. Drop the act. Let’s speak as humans not as boss and worker” he said. “Look at the food chain, (y/n), CEO are my bosses, I am your boss, you are the boss of soldiers and workers. When you mess up, they act up. You cannot be late”

“Are you going to kill me?” You blurt. In Hos eyes widened.

“No, I’m going to torture you in a way you’ve never imagined.” He said, looked at you through the eyes of the mask. You felt his gaze. “Strip” he ordered.

“Sir?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself” he said with warning. You set your mask in the pocket, removing your shiesty (the ski mask thing they wear). The sound of your zipper echoed through the silent room. Your pink suit dropped to the floor. Revealing a small lazy bra and a matching thong.

His cock aches for you. In Ho told himself this was justified. Worse than killing you, sexual torment. No release. He was a predator and you were his prey. He was going to destroy you inside out till you were convinced it was love and you needed him.

“Turn around.” He gave another order. “You tell anyone what you saw and what we dis in here today and really will kill you, (l/n)”

“Yes sir”

The Front man removed his mask, a handsome face hit behind that cold steel mask. He wasn’t handsome he was

“Beautiful” you said aloud. “You’re beautiful” the corner of his lip curled into a smile before disappearing. No longer visible, now all that was there was the same serious expression. How could an angel be so serious? You thought. He pushed you onto his bed. Undoing his clothes he stood bare in front of you. Abs shining as the sun peeked through the tall windows, a golden light cast upon him.

“Spread your legs.” You nodded, spreading them. “I’m going to enjoy the fuck out of this (y/n) and afterwords, you’ll be wanting more but sent away to your quarters feeling empty” he declared to you. Trailing the tip of his erect cock down the front of your thong.

You let out a soft whimper as In Ho's cock made contact with your clit, only thing between true satisfaction was your thin lace. He started rubbing gently, the friction building between you, your wetness exceeding out of your pussy and past your thong. Low grunts rumbled from his throat as he moved against you, each motion eliciting more whimpers from you.

You watched helplessly as he fucked you. The string of your thong separating him cock from entering you, but you dripping arousal getting his cock wet.

As you continued, your breathing synchronized, heavy and labored. In Ho's movements became more urgent, his grunts deeper and closer together. Your whimpers turned into moans now - "oh god" escaping your lips over and over.

You couldn’t ever tell what you were so turned on by… the fact that he was using you to please himself but not satisfying you, or the way he sounded and looked at you as he did.

In Ho finally reached climax, cumming on your thong in hot spurts that left him shuddering with pleasure and relief. Your pussy, though covered, was white. Your groaned in frustration, clawing at him at he departed from you.

“You have no place with me in this moment. Get dressed and return to your post. I don’t want to see you until the end of the day for clock out.” He said getting dressed.

“Yes sir, thank you, sir” you dressed as quickly as you could. Trying to get out of his overwhelming presence. Before you could finish walking past him, he gripped your forearm tightly.

“Be late again, and next time, I can assure you, I will not be so kind. Do yourself a favor though, (y/n), take pride in your mistake. It got you a ticket to be put on my radar as if I haven’t imagined you bent over my desk. I was just being a gentleman” he let go of you and you scurried off.

He watched you as you did. Smirking like he’s completed something. You’re going to mess up again. That look of desperation said everything he needed to know. You planned on fucking up, just to get back to him. He wanted to destroy you. But he did fall in love with your beauty, just a little bit.

[dramaticweathergirl]

Swarm

Twst timeloop au

"Hey Deucy, don’t ya think the butterflies like Yuu a bit too much? No, scratch that—they’re totally borderline obsessed."

Deuce could only glance in the direction his companion was nodding at, curiosity tugging at him. There, in the distance of the Heartslabyul garden, stood Yuu, butterflies dancing around them in an elegant choreography. Some perched atop their head, while others rested on the blades of their shoulders.

It was almost beautiful—if not for the fact that it somehow reminded Deuce of how flies desperately clung to rotting organic trash in the dumpsite he and his old (former) friends used to hang around.

He coughed into his palm, composing himself.

‘How morbid,’ he thought.

"Maybe it’s their perfume or something."

"...Do you really think our dear I-don’t-have-budget-to-buy-a-toothbrush Prefect has the luxury to buy perfume? Let alone one that attracts butterflies like crazy?"

Touché.

The two continued their playful banter as they set up tables for the upcoming Unbirthday Party. They were so caught up in their verbal sparring that they didn’t notice two upperclassmen approaching.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! If it isn’t the Adeuce duo working hard! Didn’t know you two were on duty today. Lemme guess—you made Riddle mad again, huh?" Cater flashed a grin, positioning his phone before snapping a quick picture of the pair. "There. For documentation—proof of your hard work to show Dormhead!"

"Hey!—"

"At least warn us before you take a picture!"

Trey sighed, watching the three of them bicker. "Don’t bully the freshmen too much, Cater."

"Speaking of freshies, where’s Yuu? I thought I heard Grimmy’s voice earlier while passing by."

"Oh, Yuu? They’re over there." Ace lazily gestured toward the school’s Prefect. "They’re kinda... out of it right now, so I wouldn’t get too close if I were you," he added, trying (and failing) to suppress the worry in his voice.

"Out of it?" Trey repeated, frowning.

Four pairs of eyes turned toward the figure in the distance. Yuu stood eerily still, like a statue, their eyes devoid of emotion as they gazed into the horizon. They seemed utterly unfazed by the butterflies swarming around them.

"Wow, ain’t that a Magicam-able sight," Cater murmured. "Yuu-chan really is a butterfly whisperer, huh?"

"I knew they had an affinity for butterflies, but never this extreme," Trey mused, cupping his chin as he recalled past encounters with the Prefect. Ever since he’d met Yuu, there had always been a butterfly or two flitting nearby. His first memory of it was when Yuu and the freshmen duo had returned from the Botanical Garden.

Trey’s brow quirked as he noticed two butterflies circling the Prefect. "Looks like you’ve got a new companion," he’d joked back then.

Yuu had given a grim smile, shrugging tiredly. "Seems like it," they’d said.

Even now, Trey remembered the peculiar look in their eyes. Yuu always had that expression—their smiles never reaching their blank, dead-fish eyes.

"Stupid bugs!" Grim had complained that day, pumping his paws in frustration. "These dumb things have been following my henchman ever since we came back from the mines! I thought we lost ’em, but the moment my henchman stepped into the Botanical Garden, more of them showed up!"

Ever since Riddle’s overblot, more and more butterflies seemed to flock to Yuu. Now, whenever the Prefect stood still in an open space, a swarm of butterflies would gather, their numbers growing the longer Yuu remained stationary.

Like flies buzzing around a rotting cor—

"What’s with all this commotion?!" a familiar voice barked, cutting through Trey's thoughts. "I’d appreciate it if the four of you finished your tasks instead of loitering. Especially you two dimwits who skipped cleaning duty yesterday."

"GAH!"

"D-Dormhead!"

"Riddle..." Trey muttered in surprise. The Heartslabyul Dormhead stood with his arms crossed, his gaze sharp and judgmental.

"Morning, Rids! We were just talking about our dear Prefect over there and the mystery of why the butterflies are crowding around them like a bunch of crazy paparazzi," Cater chimed in with his usual cheeky grin.

Riddle’s brows furrowed as he followed their line of sight. "My, there are more of them than usual," he remarked, his tone curious. "And all the same species..." he added, almost to himself, though the others heard him.

"Species?"

"Yes. I’ve been researching the insects attracted to Yuu. It’s been a personal curiosity of mine to figure out why they’re so drawn to them. At first, I thought it was due to sweat—"

"Sweat? That’s gross," Ace interrupted with a mock gag.

"Yes, sweat," Riddle repeated, unimpressed. "Some butterfly species are attracted to sodium, which is why they’re sometimes drawn to humans. But Yuu never seems to be sweating during these incidents. That led me to believe they might be secreting some sort of pheromone undetectable to humans. But when I asked a beastman—your friend Jack—he said he smelled nothing."

"Wow... you really did your research, huh," Deuce muttered, blinking in amazement.

"It’s hardly anything substantial. I’m still stumped as to why this phenomenon occurs. However, during one of my reading sessions, I came across something... surprising."

"Surprising? How so?"

"Did you know that some butterfly species—like the ones hovering around Yuu—are attracted to and feast on the fluids of decaying corpses?"

[lanf1an]

seasons lando norris x fewtrell sister pt. 10 - 24 december 2025

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6 pt.7 pt.8 pt.9

wordcount: 1875

The morning after felt surreal, but there was no time to process it. Lando had to leave early for a McLaren training camp. You remembered him mentioning it in passing, not thinking too much about it, but now the timing felt cruel. You had barely opened your eyes when you heard him moving around the room.

His hoodie was already on, his bag slung over his shoulder. He glanced at you as he pulled the zipper closed, his expression unreadable. He moved towards the bed, kissing your forehead as if that was the most normal thing to do. 

“Morning,” he said, voice rough.

“Morning,” you replied, suddenly hyperaware of the intimacy between you.

“You’re leaving already?” you asked, your voice still raspy from sleep.

“Yeah,” He looked at the door briefly, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face.

“See you at the lodge yeah?” He said standing up ‘’We’ll talk’’

Before you could respond, he stepped back, offering you a small smile. “Don’t overthink it, okay?”

You nodded, but your mind was already racing.

-

The ski trip was early this year, with everyone’s conflicting schedules, it fell during Christmas and New Years again, like old times. It was Christmas eve when you all arrived, your families spiralling into chaos directly with the preparations. 

You sat by the window, staring out at the snowy expanse, but your focus was elsewhere—on the familiar figure lounging across the room. Lando was leaning back in an armchair, his dark hoodie tugged over his hair, talking to your dad and Max, but his sharp gaze was fixed on you. The memory of that night haunted you—the way his lips had claimed yours, the way he’d pressed you into your bed, making promises with his touch you’d never heard him say aloud. But then the morning came, and there was no time. He had left in a rush, and the silence that followed was deafening, you had texted a bit, but it wasn’t enough. Now, surrounded by your families, the space between you felt unbearable. Every glance, every subtle brush of his hand against yours—it was like he wanted to pick up where you left off but couldn’t. Christmas eve was hectic, as it always was. Between skiing in the morning, a late lunch that stretched into early evening, and the chaos of unwrapping presents, there was no moment to breathe—and no opportunity for you and Lando to talk. 

When the night had finally come to an end, you were in your bedroom getting ready for bed, you heard the faint creak of the door behind you, and your heart stopped. Turning, you found Lando standing there, his hand on the doorknob, his hoodie now off, hair tousled.

“Are you insane?” you hissed, rushing over to push him back into the hallway. But he caught your wrist, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him.

“Relax. Everyone’s asleep,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing, though his eyes were anything but playful. “I couldn’t just leave things like this.”

Your breath hitched. “Lando, we can’t—Max is in the next room. If anyone—”

“I’ve missed you.” he murmured, stepping closer, his hands finding your waist. 

The words sent a shiver through you, your resolve crumbling as he leaned in, his lips brushing yours softly at first, then with more insistence. You melted into him, your hands gripping the front of his shirt as he backed you toward the bed.

“Lando,” you whispered against his lips, breaking the kiss just long enough to speak. “We have to be quiet.”

He grinned, his forehead resting against yours. “Then you better keep me in check.”

You wanted to argue, to tell him to leave, but when his lips met yours again, all resistance crumbled. His kiss was slow, deliberate, like he had all the time in the world, even though you both knew he didn’t. Your hands tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer as he shifted, laying you back against the pillows.

His lips found yours again, his hand sliding up under your shirt, his touch igniting every nerve. The fear of being caught only made everything more intense, every whispered word, every soft sigh heightening the moment. You still didn’t talk, but your bodies said enough.

When he finally slipped out of your room hours later, the sky outside was starting to lighten, and you were left staring at the ceiling, your heart racing and your body still buzzing from his touch.

-

The next morning, you woke to the sound of Max banging on your door.

“Get up! We’re leaving in ten minutes,” he shouted.

You groaned, rolling over and burying your face in your pillow. Sleep had been elusive after Lando had left, your mind replaying every moment, every kiss, every touch.

Breakfast was a chaotic affair, as it always was with both families in the house. Lando was already at the table when you came downstairs, sitting next to Max and laughing at something your dad had said. He looked perfectly at ease, like he hadn’t spent half the night in your bed. You, on the other hand, felt like you were going to combust every time his knee brushed against yours under the table or his eyes met yours across the room. How had it come to this? Not being able to act normal around your best friend.

After a full day of skiing and another chaotic christmas dinner, Max was talking about the Christmas special Quadrant stream event they had planned. 

“We’ve got an event to stream, and it’ll be easier if we’re in the same room,” Max said to Lando casually, oblivious to the way your stomach dropped at his words.

“That’s a terrible idea,” Lando blurted out, earning a surprised look from Max.

“Why? We’ve done it before, we have to stream until late hours” Max said, shrugging. “Unless you’ve got some other reason to not want to share with me?”

Lando glanced at you briefly, his jaw tightening before he shook his head. “No, it’s fine. Whatever.” Max raised his eyebrows at him but didn’t press further.

Between Max’s constant presence and the impossibility of sneaking around, the tension between you and Lando only grew. And as New Year’s Eve arrived, the lodge buzzing with excitement as your families prepared for the celebration. The living room had been transformed into a cozy party space. You tried to focus on the festivities, chatting with your parents and helping set up the table with finger foods and champagne glasses. But your mind kept drifting to Lando. He was on the other side of the room, leaning against the wall with a glass of wine in hand, talking to Max and your dad. He looked too good in his black sweater and jeans, his hair perfectly messy, his smile easy and charming. Every time his gaze flickered to you, it felt like a physical touch, making your heart race.

As midnight approached, the group scattered around the place, counting down the minutes. Your parents were laughing, your mom sipping champagne while your dad cracked jokes. Max was fiddling with his phone, probably trying to text and call P, while Lando stood close by, his attention divided between the countdown and you.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!” The countdown began, voices mingling with the music as the excitement in the room built.

Your heart pounded as you locked eyes with Lando from across the room. The way he looked at you—intense, longing, like he couldn’t wait another second—made your breath catch. You knew what he was thinking because you were thinking it too.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Cheers erupted, glasses clinking, and the room filled with hugs and laughter.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you slipped out of the living room and into the dimly lit hallway. The noise of the party faded as you leaned against the wall, trying to catch your breath. You didn’t have to wait long. Lando appeared seconds later, his eyes scanning the hall until they landed on you. He didn’t say a word as he closed the distance between you, pushing you further against the wall, his hands finding your waist and pulling you close. His lips were on yours before you could speak, the kiss fierce and hungry, like he’d been holding back for far too long.

“Happy New Year,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and rough.

“Happy New Year” you whispered, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you grabbed the front of his sweater, pulling him closer.  His fingers tightened on your waist, and you knew you were both teetering on the edge of losing control. “Let’s go upstairs” he whispered. 

He grabbed your hand, leading you down the hallway and up the stairs, his grip warm and steady.

The party continued below, the sound of music and laughter muffled as you slipped into your room. 

His lips found yours again, his hands sliding under the hem of your shirt, and you couldn’t stop the soft gasp that escaped you. Every movement was careful, deliberate, as if the risk of being caught only made it more intoxicating. You were so lost in him that you didn’t hear the soft creak of the floorboards outside until it was too late.

“What the hell?” Max’s voice was a sharp whisper, and you froze, your blood turning to ice.

Lando jerked back, his eyes wide as he stared at the door, which had opened just enough for Max’s face to peek through. Your brother looked equal parts horrified and furious.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Max muttered, pushing the door open fully. “Are you serious right now?”

“Max, it’s not what it looks like,” you started, but even you didn’t believe the words.

“Not what it—” He cut himself off, running a hand through his hair as he stepped into the room. “You’re joking, right? In the middle of the night? While everyone’s downstairs?”

Lando stood, hands raised in a gesture. “Max, I can explain.”

Max pointed a finger at him, his glare sharp enough to cut. “Oh, you’d better. Because this—” He gestured between the two of you. “—is not happening. ”

“Max,” you said, your voice pleading. “Can we not do this right now?”

“No, we’re doing this now,” he snapped. “What the hell are you two thinking?”

Lando glanced at you, his expression unreadable, before turning back to Max. “Look, I get it. You’re upset. But—”

“Upset doesn’t even cover it, mate,” Max interrupted. “This is my sister.”

“I know that” Lando shot back, his tone firmer now. “And you’re my best friend.”

The room went silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Finally, Max let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered. “I need some air.”

He turned and left without another word, leaving the door ajar behind him. You stared at the empty doorway, your heart still racing, before turning to Lando.

“Well,” you said weakly. “That went well. Great start of the new year”

He gave you a rueful smile, sitting back down beside you. “Could’ve been worse.”

You raised an eyebrow. “How?”

“Might’ve walked in five minutes later,” he said, and despite everything, you couldn’t help but laugh.

WN: I think we are coming to an end nonetheless :( Probably in the next part. Maybe a sequel, or a new story, not sure yet. :(

tl: @ash88-yep @lewishamiltonismybf @harrysdimple05 @lex2205 @il0vereadingstuff @martygraciesversion381 @joannaln4 @obxstiles@chaoswithus @motorsportloverf1 @therovanperaastonmartini@acesofspadess @widow-cevans @irisesinthegarden @ncrsbrg @f1fantasys @norrisainz33 @mayax2o07 @ipushhimback @milkysoop @annimausi @basicchelsea

[immortalmrwavell]

More Like A Real Man

(Original story posted September 8th 2022) This story has been significantly Updated!

A rare Gay to Straight themed story from me here so if that’s your thing then I hope you enjoy! 😜

“Finally I’m starting to look less like a nerdy piece of shit and more like a real fuckin man.” Henry smirked as he checked himself out in the selfie camera. At last he was starting to see the results of his labour. His body was finally starting to take shape. All the new muscle he’d been able to pack on made him a far cry from the stick figure of a man he was before. “Next thing will be to get some contacts so I don’t have to wear these dumbass glasses half the fuckin time.” He scoffed.

———

This all started over 6 months ago Henry was practically the picture of a skinny booknerd. With his frail body, glasses that framed his average face and clear lack of fashion sense. He was intelligent for sure, easily making it into one of the most advanced courses at his local college, but that only made him less popular when it came to the jocks. Henry was everything they weren’t. And most of all he was gay which didn’t help his reputation with the jock either.

Despite this, one day Henry found himself sneaking into Coach Kent’s office. The Coach had been in charge of the college’s football team and physical education courses for quite some time now. However, news had recently spread about Coach Kent deciding to leave. Saying something about a “Change of scenery”. And so this day was said to be his last day at the local college. Of course Henry, being the meek gay nerd that was, couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see if the coach had left anything behind for him to steal. After all, he'd had a secret crush on the older burly man ever since he started going to this college.

He’d hoped to find maybe an old shirt or pair of shoes. Anything Henry could use to remember the Dilf that was Coach Kent in his own perverted way. What he didn’t expect to find was one of the coach’s jockstraps!?! He couldn’t believe the coach had left it behind but he certainly wasn’t going to complain. The nerd swiped it up without a second thought, giving it a good long sniff before shoving it into his bag.

Henry made another sweep of the office to see if there was anything else worth grabbing. He grabbed an old blue cap that had been left hanging on the door along with a pair of football socks remembered seeing Coach Kent wear a few times before. He was already imagining how hot the cosplay was going to be as he quietly slipped out of the office. Knowing he was gonna nut in that jockstrap as soon as he got home had him struggling to hide his boner.

Once in the comfort and privacy of his bedroom, Henry tossed his bag on the bed and immediately stripped down. He pulled out the worn jockstrap before pressing it to his nose yet again, loving the strong masculine scent left behind by Coach Kent. All the while thinking back on all the fantasies he’d had of worshipping the hot older man.

Eventually however he was able to pull jockstrap away from his face long enough to start putting it on. Sliding up over his lanky legs until the pouch pulled over his moderate cock and balls and the straps came up just below his flat butt. As expected it was far too big for him. So much so that it wouldn’t stay on properly without Henry holding it in place. But it was still super hot nonetheless. Causing his already stiff cock to pulse even harder with excitement as he used his free hand to jerk it.

He was already thinking of grabbing Coach Kent’s socks and cap to wear too… until a strange dizziness washed over him. He could hardly explain it as he started to lose what little strength he had before collapsing on the bed behind him. It was like his consciousness was being squashed down from the inside. That was the only way to explain it. But it wouldn’t matter as he soon faded from consciousness.

———

“Fuck sake! Why did this skinny nerd faggot have to find it first.” Henry shouted in frustration as he looked down and his scrawny body in disgust. Pawing at his non existent biceps and flat chest. Only it wasn’t Henry anymore. “I was sure I told one of the faggy jocks to check my office after I left!” Even his own voice was pissing him off now. Completely lacking any kind of real masculinity or power behind it.

Henry didn’t know it at the time but the jockstrap he’d stolen actually had Coach Kent’s very soul embedded into it. It was part of a sacred ritual that would allow him to take over the body of whomever wore the jockstrap. His plan had been to trick one of the younger closeted gay Jocks into taking it and putting it on but clearly things didn’t go exactly to plan. “I can’t do that fucking ritual for at least another ten years!” The coach vented in frustration.

The body snatcher looked himself up and down in the nearest mirror he could find. “Jesus Christ. I’ve seen chicks that don’t even work out with bigger muscles than this…” When he’d put his soul into that jockstrap he’d hoped to find himself in a new body that was young and strong. One that had potential to become a great athlete some day. Unfortunately Henry met only one part of that criteria. He might’ve been young but his physique was laughable at best. It was practically just skin and bone. And now that’s exactly what Coach Kent was stuck with. “Why did this pathetic little shit have to ruin everything…” He grumbled while gritting his teeth.

It was tough for him to adjust at first. Kent couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this puny but there was nothing he could do about it now. He was stuck in this imp’s body for the foreseeable future as infuriating as it was. However he had no plans looking like a thing for the next ten years so he did the only thing he could do to fix this fuck up. He got Henry’s skinny ass body into the gym.

It was embarrassingly tough at first for the once manly and imposing coach. Only being able to lift some of the smallest weights and having to set the machines he used to a light load. But despite that he pushed this pathetic worm’s body as far as it could go. He combined his efforts with a well thought out meal plan that he stuck to religiously over the next couple of months. It took some time but eventually he began to see some results in muscle gains that made him slightly less disgusted by his own reflection.

Those weren’t the only changes Kent had been making to Henry’s life however. In this time Henry’s friends had noticed a very sudden shift in his behaviour. He used to be a kind and timid guy that loved to talk about nerdy things with them. Yet one day he suddenly began acting crude, boisterous and talking like an absolute gym rat. Just like the dudes that would bully their friend group. In less than a week Kent had already cut ties with them after he started acting like a complete douchebag and calling them all a bunch of homophobic slurs. He didn’t want to be friends with a bunch of geeky homo’s anyway. Henry might’ve been a fag but Kent was as straight as a fuckin arrow!

Speaking of, it didn’t take long for him to have his straight orgasm. On the very first evening of being inside his new body, the coach first opened Henry’s laptop to find tabs upon tabs of gay porn open and in bookmarks. He was disgusted by it and was even more disgusted when his body reacted and got a semi for it. “Fucking faggot body…” He muttered to himself before swiftly deleting all the gay porn tabs with a strong grimace.

“Time to fix this broken dick.” He smirked before clicking on the search bar and pulling up the hottest straight porn he could find. It didn’t take long for Kent to find countless incredible videos of beautiful big breasted bimbo’s shaking their tits and fingering their wet pussies. Their feminine moans were like music to his ears. He glanced down at his cock as he started jerking it. “See? This is what you’re supposed to get excited about.” He said seemingly to no one but his own stolen dick as he returned his attention to the hot chicks on the screen. “Tits and pussy.”

The first few times he jacked off he found it tough to get fully hard due to his current body’s innate gay urges. Thankfully it got easier with each load he busted to the sight of huge tits. Almost like he was shooting out this body’s homosexuality in small doses with each orgasm. This of course only spurred Kent on more. Jerking off Henry’s once gay dick to the thought and sight of women every single night. After that it wasn’t long before the coach had fully conditioned his new cock to get incredibly hard at the sight of women and only women. He was proud to finally have a straight dick again that craved tits and pussy, like he believed all men should have.

But what happened to the real Henry during all this? Well his soul was cursed to be suppressed and trapped inside his own mind. He could see and hear everything but had zero control over what Coach Kent did and said with his body. Kent was in the driver's seat permanently. Henry tried to fight it but there was nothing he could do. Only being able to watch and feel as Kent forced him to workout and be an asshole to his friends. Forced to be a spectator as Kent redecorated his bedroom by ripping down the Star Wars posters in favour of putting up posters of footballers and women in skimpy bikinis. The Coach even went as far as to sell Henry’s comic collection and figures to make money and room for some new weights and home exercise equipment.

“Maybe I can make something outta this shitty body and life after all.” Kent would comment, looking at all the changes he’d made for the better so far. He still had a long way to go if he wanted to transform Henry’s life into the alpha male jock life he’d wanted to relive but it was a good start.

———

Jumping back to the present, Kent had finally gotten his new body into pretty decent shape with some good muscle and size showing. He managed to fill out most of the clothes that’d been baggy on Henry before and some he’d even had to trade for a size larger. His biceps were showing at last and his pecs were starting to come in nicely. Henry's once skinny legs were now looking a fair bit meatier. Not to mention his back and shoulders looking noticeably broader, giving him a far more masculine build. Naturally he still wanted to get much bigger but at least now he felt as though he could look in the mirror and see a real man staring back at him.

In this time he’d even signed up to the college football team at the start of the academic year where he was able to make some new bro friends. Though it a little strange for a couple reasons. One being that most of his new bros were players that he used to Coach before the takeover. The other reason being that most of them also used to bully the old Henry and make fun of him and his former queer friends. That said they gave Kent a hard time at first. Not that Kent minded. If anything he was glad that the young jocks he used to coach weren’t going easy on someone they believed to be a worthless faggot. It showed that he’d done a good job at raising them to be real men as well. And it also meant that he’d have to prove himself to them.

The attitudes of the other jocks began to turn around sooner than he expected. Mostly thanks to seeing the sudden shift in Henry’s attitude to become a jock like them. It wasn’t long before they started to admit how they were actually pretty impressed by the gains he’d made and that he was maybe cooler than they’d originally given him credit for. Especially now that he’d stopped hanging around those losers he was with before. What had earned their respect the most however was how well Kent played on the field with them during practice. By all accounts Henry should’ve been a complete amateur but with Kent in the driver's seat he had decades worth of experience that allowed him to keep pace with the other jocks.

Once again through it all the real Henry was helpless as he watched himself be transformed into even more of a typical straight jock with everyday that passed. Being forced to watch himself become ‘bros’ with the other jocks that he detested. Fist bumping and bro hugging them whenever he saw them whether it be at the gym, football practice or elsewhere on campus. He’d even been forced to use the same kind of dumb brotalk that all the jocks used. And of course joining in alongside them as they hurled homophobic insults towards the types of people he’d have been great friends with before. It was torturous!

The most torturous part for Henry however was the way Kent saw Women. He constantly found himself disgusted at the way Kent used his voice to talk about ‘hot chicks’ to his new bros. Describing how fat their tits and asses were to them and how he’d wanted to bend them over rail their tight pussies. Henry was disgusted at hearing the words leave his mouth. He would never have agreed with objectifying women like this. Yet now he found himself unwillingly staring at the huge racks of any sexy babes around the campus and feeling his bulge growing at the sight.

Tonight however was the night both Coach Kent had been waiting for and Henry had been dreading. Since getting into much better shape, girls around the campus had begun to take interest in the new, confident jock on the football team. Noticing this, Kent thought it was about time to shoot his shot and landed the number of one of the art students Talia. She had a reputation of being one of the “hottest chicks on campus” so when the other Jocks heard they all crowded around ‘Henry’ while jumping and cheering for him. That certainly boosted Kent’s ego for the first time in a while since taking his new body.

After a couple dates, Talia was finally coming over to Henry’s place for the night and wouldn’t you know it before long the two began pulling off each other's clothes. On the inside Henry was cringing, wanting nothing more than for this to stop and take back control of his body and life. Unfortunately on the outside his cock was rock hard as Kent was busily sucking on Talia’s tits while massaging and fingering her pussy like a pro.

“Oh my godddd…” Talia whined lustfully. “Where’d you learn how to touch a girl like that?” She asked between bated breaths. Going on to imply that no other guy she’d been with had been nearly this good at pleasuring her.

“Dunno.” Kent shrugged with a sly smirk. “Just instinct I guess.” He answered playfully before burying his face between her tits again, of course not revealing that in reality he had many decades worth of experience.

Henry’s protest became more and more frantic as things started to heat up. He was begging for it to stop when Talia wrapped her lips around his cock and began to stop but the only things that left his mouth were the soft grunts that the Coach let out. But when the busty college girl laid herself out on the bed, legs spread eagerly, Henry was reduced to screaming ‘NO! NO! NO!’ Over and over again. But his protests fell on deaf ears as they always did. Completely powerless to stop Kent as he their cock up with Talia’s slick entrance. And for the first time in his life, Henry felt himself plunge his cock deep inside a wet welcoming pussy.

“Fuuuuuuckkkk yeahhhhhhhh…” Kent growled at the familiar feeling. Also enjoying the subtle differences in how it felt fucking with a different cock to his previous one.

Henry tried his best to fight against it. To rebel and protest but nothing worked. He couldn’t even stop himself from moaning internally at the feeling of being inside a pussy. After all he could still feel all the same pleasure as Coach Kent pumped in and out rhythmically while groaning out in Henry’s noticeably deeper voice. The thrusts grew faster and more aggressive as the two changed positions a couple times. It wasn’t until Kent had already fucked Talia so good that she’d orgasms all over his dick that he could feel a load welling up in his balls. Something Henry was terrified about. Yet, a few more powerful thrusts and a long groan later, Henry found himself being forced to do something he never thought he would. Pumping a tight pussy nice full with his thick potent load.

In that moment something changed. The Coach was still in complete control but suddenly the real Henry found his mind linking up to Kent’s. Like the act of breeding a woman had left them both in such bliss, whether the real Henry had wanted it or not, that it allowed them to become truly intertwined. After that Henry found himself in a daze internally as Kent’s very soul weaved itself around Henry’s, corrupting him slowly but surely.

‘Maybe I like pussy after all…’ Henry would soon start to think, oblivious to what was happening to him. ‘Maybe being a football jock isn’t so bad…’ Tye corruption would spread as his old sense of sense began to dwindle. Little did he know that soon his individuality would be wiped without a trace. His consciousness would become like a mirror to Coach Kent’s until Henry was more than happy to go along with anything Kent had them do. Whether that be sports, joining the fraternity and fucking busty bimbo’s left and right.

And after that Henry would be consumed entirely, leaving only Kent and his new body…

[scarletwinterxx]

drowning in the deepest of truths, I think I'm falling for you - choi seungcheol scenario

hellooo ~ so it's been a while... few things to address😅 i saw svt recently and i can confirm i cried hahah and second thing, a certain mr. seungcheol choi bias wrecked me so we're here. say thank u to him🤣

THIS ISTG TOOK ME SO LONG TO WRITE. if you've been here for a long time, i think it's obvious i love a good friends-to-lovers storyline. i wanna give myself a pat on the back for writing this😅hope you like it too!!

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You’ve been friends with Seungcheol for as long as you can remember. He’s the dependable guy, the one who shows up at your door with takeout when you’re upset, drives you to late-night emergencies, and threatens to "have a word" with anyone who so much as looks at you the wrong way. He’s also the same guy who will call you at 2 AM to complain about Jeonghan stealing his food or Seungkwan roasting his playlist choices.

It’s all very platonic.

At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

But here’s the thing—platonic friends don’t always behave the way Seungcheol does with you.

Like how he always walks closest to the road when you’re together. You thought he did that for everyone until Jeonghan once teased him about being your personal bodyguard. “What, I’m just making sure she’s safe,” he’d grumbled, cheeks faintly red. You’d laughed it off, but now every time he switches sides to keep you away from traffic, your brain unhelpfully replays Jeonghan’s teasing.

Then there’s his car. His precious car. The one you’ve seen him ban people from for spilling a drink or even breathing too close to the upholstery. Yet, somehow, you’re the only one allowed to eat fries in it without getting scolded. “Because you’re neat,” he’d explained once, though you distinctly remember dropping ketchup on the seat that one time. He cleaned it up himself and still handed you another fry.

And don’t even get started on the hand thing. He always has a hand on your back—guiding you through crowds, steadying you when you wobble on uneven ground, or just casually resting it there when you’re walking side by side.

It’s warm, reassuring, and totally not something friends think about when they’re lying in bed at night.

You tried asking him about it once. “You’re very handsy, you know.”

“Would you rather I let you trip and fall?” he’d retorted with a smirk.

“Not what I meant, but okay.”

The problem is, Seungcheol seems completely unaffected by all this. He treats you like you’re just another one of his friends, albeit one he’s particularly protective of. You’ve heard him swear up and down to Jeonghan and Seungkwan that you’re just his friend. Jeonghan, of course, doesn’t believe him.

“Right, because you hold all your ‘friends’ like they’re a national treasure,” Jeonghan had said, earning himself a withering glare.

“Shut up, Jeonghan,” Seungcheol had snapped, but his ears were noticeably pink.

Then there was Seungkwan, who once asked, “Why don’t you just marry her already? Save us all the suspense.”

“We’re friends,” Seungcheol had groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

It’s honestly infuriating. Not because you want him to admit something else (okay, maybe you do, but only a little), but because it leaves you constantly second-guessing everything.

Like when he shows up to your apartment with soup because you mentioned a scratchy throat, or when he lingers outside your building after dropping you off just to make sure you’re inside safely.

Or—your personal favorite—when he softens. That big, tough guy act he puts on with everyone else melts the second he looks at you.

His voice gets gentler, his eyes crinkle when he smiles, and he’s suddenly the kind of guy who brushes hair out of your face without a second thought.

It’s maddening.

And apparently, you’re not the only one who thinks so.

“I don’t get it,” Jeonghan says one day, while you’re all sitting at a café. “Why are you two still dancing around each other? Just confess already.”

You nearly choke on your drink. “What?! There’s nothing to confess!”

“Exactly,” Seungcheol agrees, but his jaw tightens ever so slightly

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. “Sure. And I’m the president.”

“Jeonghan, drop it,” Seungcheol warns.

“Fine, fine.” Jeonghan smirks but doesn’t look convinced.

By the time you’re walking home together later, the conversation keeps replaying in your head. Seungcheol is quiet beside you, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“You’re awfully quiet,” you say, bumping your shoulder against his.

He glances at you, his expression unreadable. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“...Nothing important.”

You don’t push, but as his hand finds its familiar place on your back when you cross the street, you can’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, Jeonghan was onto something.

You knew it was going to be a long day when your boss handed you that stack of papers at 4 PM. By the time you finally wrapped up, the office was practically empty, the night sky spilling across the windows.

A quick glance at your phone confirmed what you already dreaded—you’d missed the last bus. Groaning, you stuffed your things into your bag, resigning yourself to the long walk home.

It wasn’t that bad. Just… cold, dark, and slightly creepy. You’d be fine.

Totally fine.

But when you pushed through the lobby doors and stepped outside, you stopped dead in your tracks.

There he was.

Choi Seungcheol, leaning casually against his car, arms crossed over his chest like he’d been waiting all night. His head tilted up as soon as he heard the door open, and when he saw you, that familiar, infuriatingly soft smile spread across his face.

“Finally,” he said, pushing off the car. “I thought you were going to sleep in there.”

Your mouth opened and closed a few times before you managed, “What… what are you doing here?”

“Picking you up,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world

“I didn’t ask you to.”

He shrugged. “Didn’t need to.”

You frowned, confused. “How did you even know I was still here?”

“Your light was on when I drove by earlier.”

“You drove by?”

He had the audacity to look sheepish. “I figured you’d miss the bus. And I didn’t want you walking home alone.”

Your heart did an annoying little flip. “I can take care of myself, you know.”

“Sure you can,” he said, completely unfazed. “But humor me, okay? Get in the car.”

You hesitated for a moment, debating whether to argue, but the cold wind nipping at your cheeks made the decision for you. “Fine,” you muttered, walking past him to the passenger door.

“Good choice,” he said, smirking as he opened the door for you.

The car was warm, smelling faintly of his cologne, and as you settled into the seat, you couldn’t help but notice the little things—how he’d adjusted the seat warmer on your side or how there was a blanket folded neatly in the backseat.

He climbed in and started the engine, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Hungry?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You barely eat when you’re working late,” he said. “We can grab something on the way home.”

You stared at him, baffled. “Do you do this for all your friends?”

He smirked, pulling out of the parking lot. “Do what?”

“Show up unannounced, wait in the cold, and then offer to feed them.”

“Only the ones who miss the last bus.”

Your lips twitched despite yourself. “So just me, then?”

“Just you,” he admitted, glancing at you again with a small smile.

The ride home was quiet, the hum of the engine and the city lights passing by making everything feel oddly intimate. When he finally pulled up in front of your building, you turned to him, suddenly unsure of what to say.

“Thanks for… this,” you said awkwardly, gesturing vaguely.

“Anytime,” he said easily.

As you reached for the door handle, he stopped you. “Hey.”

You turned back, and his expression had softened, the playful smirk replaced with something quieter, more sincere.

“Text me next time, okay? So I don’t have to guess.”

Your chest tightened, and you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Okay.”

You stepped out of the car, his eyes on you the entire time, and as you walked to your building, you couldn’t help but smile.

He wasn’t just a friend. Not to you, anyway. And maybe, just maybe, you weren’t just a friend to him either.

It was supposed to be a quiet night for Seungcheol. He’d gone out with some friends, had a couple of drinks, and was planning to head home early. But somehow, he ended up back at Jeonghan’s place with Seungkwan sitting cross-legged on the couch, both of them looking far too smug for his liking.

They were up to something. They were always up to something.

“So,” Jeonghan started, drawing out the word like he had all the time in the world, “guess who’s out on a date right now?”

Seungcheol barely glanced up from his phone. “I don’t know. Who?”

“You,” Seungkwan deadpanned, then snorted. “Kidding. It’s her.”

Seungcheol’s fingers froze mid-scroll. “What?”

“You know who,” Jeonghan said, raising an eyebrow.

“She’s on a date,” Seungkwan added, like he was explaining something to a toddler.

Seungcheol’s brain short-circuited for a second. “Wait. What?”

“Why are you so shocked?” Jeonghan leaned back, looking like the cat that got the cream. “She’s a grown woman. She deserves to have a little fun.”

“She’s—she’s on a date?” Seungcheol repeated, his voice louder this time

“Yes, and he’s so handsome,” Seungkwan said dramatically, clasping his hands together like he was narrating a fairytale. “Tall, charming, great hair—”

“Wait a minute. You set her up?” Seungcheol cut in, his voice sharp

“Of course,” Jeonghan said breezily. “You weren’t making a move, so we figured someone else should.”

“I’m not—” Seungcheol started, then stopped, his jaw clenching. “She doesn’t need you meddling in her life.”

“She seemed fine with it,” Jeonghan said, grinning. “Actually, she looked pretty excited.”

That sentence hit Seungcheol like a punch to the gut. You? Excited to go on a date with some random guy? The thought made his chest tighten in a way he didn’t want to think about.

“I don’t get why you care so much,” Seungkwan said, narrowing his eyes. “I mean, she’s just your friend, right?”

Seungcheol’s head snapped toward him, but he didn’t say anything, his jaw working furiously as he tried to come up with a response.

“Right?” Seungkwan pressed, leaning forward.

Jeonghan smirked. “You do seem awfully worked up for someone who’s ‘just a friend.’”

Seungcheol shot him a glare that could’ve melted steel. “She is my friend.”

“Hmm,” Jeonghan hummed, unconvinced. “Then why do you look like you’re about to track down this guy and challenge him to a duel?”

“I’m not—” Seungcheol groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m just… concerned.”

“About what?” Seungkwan asked innocently.

“About her,” Seungcheol snapped. “What if he’s some creep? What if he says something to upset her? What if—”

“Oh my God,” Jeonghan interrupted, laughing. “You’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Seungcheol said through gritted teeth.

“Then why are you gripping the couch like it insulted your ancestors?” Seungkwan asked, gesturing to Seungcheol’s white-knuckled hands.

“I’m just protective,” he argued weakly.

“Right. Protective,” Jeonghan said, rolling his eyes. “Because that totally explains the vein popping out of your forehead right now.”

Seungcheol groaned again, sinking back into the couch. He hated how transparent he was, especially to these two.

“Look,” Jeonghan said, leaning forward, his tone suddenly serious. “If you don’t want her going on dates with other guys, then maybe you should finally admit how you feel.”

“I don’t—”

“Don’t even try it,” Seungkwan cut in, holding up a hand. “We all know. She’s the only person you drop everything for. The only one you talk to with that stupid soft voice. You treat her like she’s your entire world, but you’re too stubborn to say it.”

Seungcheol opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. Because they were right. They were absolutely, infuriatingly right.

“Okay, fine,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe I feel something. But what if she doesn’t feel the same?”

Jeonghan snorted. “Are you kidding me? She’s just as bad as you. She talks about you all the time, and don’t even get me started on the way she looks at you. You’re both idiots.”

Seungkwan nodded solemnly. “Big, dumb idiots.”

Seungcheol stared at them, his mind racing. Maybe it was time to stop being an idiot.

“Where’s this date happening?” he asked suddenly.

Jeonghan and Seungkwan exchanged a glance, their smirks returning.

“Why?” Jeonghan asked, feigning innocence.

Seungcheol stood, grabbing his jacket. “Because I’m about to fix this.”

“Finally,” Seungkwan muttered, shaking his head.

Jeonghan grinned. “Go get her, tiger.”

And with that, Seungcheol stormed out, determined to set things right—even if it meant crashing your date.

Meanwhile you were having a perfectly peaceful evening. The kind where the air was crisp, the stars were starting to peek out, and the banana milk you’d picked up from the convenience store was hitting just right. Strolling through your neighborhood, you took another long sip, savoring the sweetness.

And then, like something out of a drama, Seungcheol’s sleek black car zipped past you.

You blinked, nearly choking on your drink.

Was that…? No, it couldn’t be. But then the brake lights lit up, and the car slowed before making a sharp U-turn.

You stopped walking, half-expecting someone else to step out of the car. But, of course, it was Seungcheol.

He parked haphazardly by the curb and got out, looking a little disheveled, which was unusual for him. His jacket was slightly askew, and his hair looked like he’d run his hands through it one too many times.

“Hey,” he said, jogging up to you, his voice slightly breathless.

“Uh, hi?” you said, thoroughly confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he countered, crossing his arms but not quite meeting your eyes.

“I’m just walking,” you replied, holding up your banana milk as if to prove your innocence. “What about you?”

He hesitated for a second too long. “I was… driving.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Driving? Around here?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was… in the area.”

“In the area?” you repeated, unconvinced.

“Yes,” he said firmly, but his eyes flickered to the drink in your hand, betraying his nerves.

You decided not to press him. Seungcheol acting weird wasn’t exactly new, but something about him tonight seemed different. Like he was on edge. His jaw was tight, his shoulders tense, and he kept shifting from foot to foot like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“You okay?” you asked softly, tilting your head.

He froze, then sighed, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“I’m just… stressed,” he admitted reluctantly.

“Work?” you guessed.

“Something like that,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze.

You frowned, feeling a pang of concern. Without thinking, you held out your banana milk to him, your fingers curling around the straw as you offered it up. “Here. This always makes me feel better.”

He blinked at you, caught completely off guard. “What?”

“Drink it,” you said, blinking up at him innocently. “It’ll help.”

He stared at you for a moment, his expression softening in that way that always made your heart skip a beat. “You’re sharing your banana milk with me?”

“Don’t make it weird,” you mumbled, cheeks warming.

A small smile tugged at his lips as he took the drink from you, his fingers brushing yours. He took a hesitant sip, his eyes never leaving yours, and for a moment, the world felt strangely quiet.

“Not bad,” he said, handing it back to you.

“See? Instant stress relief,” you said lightly, though your chest felt tight for reasons you didn’t want to examine too closely.

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze lingering on you in a way that made you feel uncharacteristically shy. Finally, he reached out, ruffling your hair like he used to do when you were younger. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

You laughed softly, brushing his hand away. “Someone’s gotta take care of you.”

His smile faltered just slightly, something unspoken passing between you before he cleared his throat and stepped back. “I’ll drive you home.”

“It’s just a short walk—”

“Let me drive you,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You didn’t fight him on it. You weren’t sure why, but Seungcheol’s strange mood tugged at something deep inside you.

As you climbed into his car and he pulled onto the road, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his stress than he was letting on. And from the way his grip on the steering wheel tightened every time he glanced at you, you had a feeling he was thinking the exact same thing.

A few days later since that night. You're still wondering why Seungcheol was acting weird but you brush it off, thinking maybe he's just stressed because of work.

Now you're somewhere unfamiliar.

You sighed in frustration, staring at the unfamiliar street signs around you.

You were definitely lost.

The errand you thought would take twenty minutes had somehow turned into an hour-long disaster. To make matters worse, your phone signal had cut out just when you’d tried to pull up directions.

After wandering aimlessly for what felt like forever, your phone finally regained some service, and you immediately dialed Jeonghan’s number. He was your go-to for emergencies like this—always on his phone and annoyingly calm in situations where you were about ready to cry.

“Hello?” Jeonghan’s familiar voice answered on the first ring

“Jeonghan!” you practically wailed. “I’m lost.”

“Lost?” he echoed, sounding more amused than concerned. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know,” you groaned, scanning the street for anything remotely familiar. “I think I took a wrong turn somewhere, and then my phone lost signal, and now I have no idea where I am.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, clearly suppressing a laugh. “Relax. Describe your surroundings.”

You rattled off a description of the nearby buildings and street signs, and Jeonghan hummed thoughtfully. “Alright, I think I know where you are. Just stay put, and I’ll send someone to get you.”

“Wait—someone? Who?”

But before he could answer, the line disconnected.

Fifteen minutes later, as you sat on a bench scrolling through your now-working phone, your screen lit up with an incoming call from Seungcheol.

You hesitated for a second before answering. “Hello?”

“What the hell?” was the first thing out of his mouth, his voice a mix of irritation and concern.

“What?” you asked, confused

“Why didn’t you call me?” he demanded

You blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re lost, right? Why didn’t you call me?”

“I—” You paused, feeling slightly guilty. “I figured you’d be busy with work. I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Bother me?” he repeated incredulously. “You think calling me when you’re lost is a bother?”

“I mean… kind of?” you said hesitantly. “You’re always so busy, and I didn’t want to distract you.”

There was a brief pause, and when he spoke again, his tone was softer, almost hurt. “You’re never a bother, you know that, right?”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling small. “I didn’t want to interrupt anything important.”

“You’re important,” he shot back without missing a beat.

Your heart did a funny little flip at his words, but you tried to shake it off. “Jeonghan said he’d send someone to get me,” you mumbled.

“Yeah, and that someone is me,” Seungcheol said, his voice firm. “I’m on my way.”

“Oh,” was all you managed to say.

“Stay where you are. I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he said, and then the line went dead.

True to his word, Seungcheol’s car pulled up exactly ten minutes later. He got out and strode toward you, his expression a mixture of exasperation and relief.

“You okay?” he asked, his eyes scanning you for any signs of distress.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said sheepishly. “Sorry for making you come all the way out here.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said firmly. “Just… next time, call me first, okay? No matter what. I don’t care how busy I am.”

You nodded, feeling warmth spread through your chest at his words. “Okay. I will.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before reaching out to flick your forehead gently. “Idiot,” he muttered, but there was no heat in his voice. “You scared me.”

You smiled up at him, clutching your phone tightly. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

He shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Always.”

And with that, he opened the car door for you, muttering something about making sure you had a proper map app installed while you slid into the passenger seat, feeling safer than you’d felt all day.

The car was quiet save for the low hum of the engine as Seungcheol drove. You sat in the passenger seat, sneaking glances at him every now and then. His brows were slightly furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. You could tell he was still annoyed—though more at himself than at you—but the silence was starting to get to you.

“Are you really mad?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper

He didn’t answer right away, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. You shifted in your seat, feeling a small pang of guilt.

“Cheol?” you tried again, a little louder this time

Finally, he glanced at you, just for a second, and that’s when he saw it—the faint pout on your lips, your eyes wide and filled with worry.

Whatever lingering annoyance he felt melted away instantly.

How could he ever stay mad at you?

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat.

In that fleeting moment, something clicked. He’d always known he cared about you, but this was different.

This was deeper.

The way his chest ached at the thought of you being lost, the way he couldn’t focus on anything else until he knew you were safe—it all made sense now.

He was in deep. Really, truly in deep.

But he kept that realization buried, locking it away for now. Because what if you didn’t feel the same? What if he ruined what you already had?

So instead of saying what was really on his mind, he shook his head and let out a small sigh. “No, I’m not mad,” he said softly, his voice losing all the sharpness from earlier.

“Really?” you asked, your pout disappearing as a hopeful smile crept onto your face.

He glanced at you again, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “Really. Just… call me next time, okay? No matter what.”

“Okay,” you said quickly, nodding.

“Good,” he said, turning his attention back to the road. But the corner of his mouth quirked up, betraying his amusement at how eager you were to ease his worries.

And as you settled back into your seat, sipping the banana milk you’d insisted on bringing with you, Seungcheol kept driving, silently grappling with the fact that you had him wrapped around your finger—and you didn’t even know it.

It’s not something you consciously think about, but Seungcheol is the first person you instinctively search for in every situation.

Whether it’s at a gathering, in a crowded room, or even during simple moments like deciding where to sit, your eyes always find him first. And it’s always easy to spot him—because, without fail, he leaves a space open beside him, like he’s silently saving it just for you.

He never says anything about it, but you’ve come to notice how it’s always you in the passenger seat of his car, you who gets the last fry from his plate, and you who he lets get away with things no one else can.

One day, after an especially long week at work, you found yourself riding home with him again. The car was quiet, save for the soft hum of the radio, and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander.

“Cheol,” you said, breaking the silence.

“Hmm?” he responded, glancing at you briefly before returning his attention to the road.

“Do you think…” You hesitated, biting your lip. “Do you think I’m taking advantage of you being such a good friend?”

He frowned slightly, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. “What?”

“I mean…” You trailed off, unsure how to explain yourself. “You do so much for me. I feel like I’m always leaning on you, and maybe—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, pulling the car to a gentle stop at a red light. He turned to look at you, his expression soft but serious. “You’re not taking advantage of me.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he reached over, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear in that way that always made your breath catch.

“I wouldn’t do any of it if I didn’t want to,” he said firmly, his voice low and steady. Then, with a small smile, he added, “Take advantage of me all you want.”

You blinked at him, startled by the sincerity in his tone. For a moment, it felt like the world outside the car had faded away, leaving only the two of you in your little bubble.

There was something in the way he said it, something in his gaze that made your chest tighten. Like he wasn’t just saying you could rely on him, but something deeper—something more.

But you didn’t push it, didn’t ask him to elaborate.

Instead, you smiled softly, feeling your cheeks warm. “Thanks, Cheol.”

He nodded, turning back to the road as the light turned green, but his fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel, as if he was trying to shake off whatever had just passed between you.

And though neither of you said it out loud, his words lingered in the air between you, unspoken but clear.

Take advantage of me all you want.

It sounded an awful lot like he was saying, I’m yours.

The music was loud, the kind that vibrated through your chest and made regular conversation impossible.

You were at yet another one of Seungkwan’s chaotic gatherings, where everyone was laughing, shouting, and dancing all at once. You were trying to tell Seungcheol something, but no matter how loud you spoke, your voice barely reached him over the noise.

Finally, with a little huff of frustration, you stepped closer to him. So close that you had to tilt your head up to meet his gaze. He raised an eyebrow at you, amused but curious, as if to ask, What’s up?

Without thinking, you stood on your tiptoes, your hand lightly gripping his arm for balance. Leaning in, you brought your lips close to his ear and whispered the words you’d been trying to say.

His reaction was immediate. You felt his hands gently rest on your waist, steadying you like it was second nature. His touch was warm, firm, and grounding in the chaos of the room.

“What?” he asked, turning his head slightly so his lips were near your ear now, his voice low enough that it sent a shiver down your spine.

You repeated yourself, barely able to focus with how close the two of you were. You could feel the heat radiating from him, smell the faint, familiar scent of his cologne.

When you pulled back just enough to look at him, you caught the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Without breaking eye contact, he slid one of his hands down from your waist and took your hand in his.

Your breath hitched when his fingers laced with yours, his grip firm but gentle, like he wasn’t planning to let go anytime soon. His thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles, and he gave your hand a little squeeze, as if to silently say, I hear you now.

The moment stretched between you, the noise of the room fading into the background as you stared up at him. His eyes were warm, his smile soft, and for a second, you felt like the two of you were the only ones in the room.

“Better?” he asked, his voice just loud enough for you to hear.

You nodded, your cheeks warm as you managed a small smile. “Better.”

He didn’t let go of your hand for the rest of the night.

As the night wore on, you and Seungcheol gravitated toward each other like magnets. Even in the chaos of the party, you never strayed far, and he made no effort to hide how closely he kept you by his side.

At one point, you found yourself standing in front of him, tucked neatly into the protective circle of his arms. His broad frame loomed behind you, shielding your much smaller figure from the crowd. It was a natural thing, the way his arms rested lightly around your waist, his hands occasionally brushing against your sides.

You weren’t sure when you had become so glued to each other, but you didn’t mind. You felt safe there, cocooned in his warmth, the noise of the party fading into the background as you leaned into his steady presence.

Seungcheol leaned down slightly, his chin nearly brushing the top of your head as he murmured, “You okay?”

You turned your head slightly to glance back at him, your eyes meeting his. “Yeah, I’m good.”

His lips quirked into a soft smile, and he gave your waist a gentle squeeze, as if to reassure himself. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“I think I’m fine as long as I stay right here,” you replied without thinking, and you felt his chest rumble with quiet laughter behind you.

“Yeah?” he teased, his voice low and warm. “You planning to stick to me all night?”

You shrugged, your cheeks warming. “Maybe.”

His laugh softened, and you felt his arms tighten around you ever so slightly. “Good,” he said, his voice quieter this time, almost like he hadn’t meant for you to hear it.

From the other side of the room, Seungkwan and Jeonghan stood together, sipping their drinks and watching the scene unfold like it was a live drama.

Jeonghan leaned casually against the wall, a smirk dancing on his lips as his eyes flicked between you and Seungcheol. “You seeing this?” he murmured, just loud enough for Seungkwan to hear over the noise.

“Oh, I’m seeing it,” Seungkwan replied, trying his best to keep a straight face but failing miserably. His grin threatened to split his face in two as he watched Seungcheol pull you closer, his arms tightening protectively around you.

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow. “Should we—”

“Don’t even think about it,” Seungkwan interrupted, though he looked like he was barely holding himself back. “You saw the look he gave us earlier. He’ll kill us if we say anything.”

Just then, Seungcheol’s eyes flicked toward them, sharp and warning. It was a look that screamed, Don’t. You. Dare.

Jeonghan, of course, couldn’t resist a bit of mischief. He raised his glass in a mock toast, tilting his head slightly as if to say, Oh, we’ll see about that.

Seungcheol’s glare darkened, and he subtly mouthed, Don’t.

Seungkwan elbowed Jeonghan, barely stifling his laughter. “You’re gonna get us both killed.”

“Oh, come on,” Jeonghan whispered back, smirking. “It’s too good not to say something. Look at them. She’s practically in his arms, and he’s acting like she’s the only person in the room.”

“I know, but...” Seungkwan hesitated, glancing back at Seungcheol, who had now fully turned his body to shield you from the crowd. “He’s terrifying when it comes to her.”

“Exactly,” Jeonghan said, his smirk widening. “Which makes this even more fun.”

Before either of them could act on their instincts, Seungcheol shot them another glare—this one so intense that even Jeonghan momentarily reconsidered his life choices.

Seungkwan cleared his throat, straightening up. “Yeah, nope. Not worth it. I like being alive.”

Jeonghan chuckled, but even he backed off, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. We’ll let him have his moment. For now.”

But as they watched you and Seungcheol disappear into the night, Jeonghan leaned over to Seungkwan with a glint in his eye. “We’re never letting him live this down, though.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Seungkwan agreed, grinning. “We’re just waiting for the right moment to strike.”

And with that, the two of them shared a conspiratorial laugh, already plotting how they’d tease Seungcheol later—if they lived to tell the tale.

The quiet of the car was a stark contrast to the laughter and energy of the night. It was just the two of you now, the hum of the engine and the soft rush of air outside the windows filling the space between your thoughts.

Seungcheol’s eyes were on the road, his focus steady, but there was something different in the air tonight. It felt like the perfect moment to finally ask the question that had been lingering on your mind.

"Cheol?" you said softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Mhm?" he replied, glancing at you briefly before returning his gaze to the road.

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of your thoughts making your chest tighten just a little. "We're not just friends, are we?" you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

You had been wondering for a while now, but it felt like the right time to ask.

Seungcheol didn’t immediately respond. The car continued on its path, the sound of the engine filling the space. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, but there was a quiet, almost amused undertone to it.

"Whatever you want me to be, I'll be that," he said simply, his eyes still on the road, but there was something in his tone that made your heart skip a beat.

You blinked, processing his words. "What does that mean?" you asked, voice quieter now, trying to decipher his meaning.

"It means," he began, "if you want me to be more than a friend, then that’s what I’ll be. If you want me to be something else, I’ll be that too."

You felt your chest tighten, the air between you both thick with unspoken things.

The rest of the ride passed in comfortable silence, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that things had shifted, that the line between just friends and something more was now more blurred than ever before.

"Thanks for the ride," you said softly, unable to hold back a small smile.

Seungcheol smiled back, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment longer. "Anytime,".

The boys had decided it was time for a beach day—a full day of sun, sand, and chaos. Naturally, Seungcheol insisted you join, claiming it wouldn’t be the same without you. So here you were, walking down the sandy shore with a tote bag slung over your shoulder while the boys argued over the best spot to set up.

Jeonghan, of course, found the shadiest area and claimed it before anyone could argue, while Seungkwan bickered about who had to blow up the inflatable. Meanwhile, Seungcheol carried your beach chair and umbrella, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you were keeping up.

When everything was set up, you kicked off your sandals and ran toward the water, the cool waves splashing against your feet. The boys stayed back for a while, caught up in their own antics, until Jeonghan called out to Seungcheol.

“Hey, big guy! You’re really just going to let her wander off alone?”

Seungcheol rolled his eyes but still got up, his protective instincts kicking in almost immediately. He strolled down the beach after you, arms crossed casually over his chest, his broad shoulders drawing attention from passersby.

You were completely oblivious, laughing as you dipped your toes into the waves. That is, until a couple of guys sidled up to you, grinning and trying to make small talk.

“Hey, you here alone?” one of them asked, his tone far too confident for his own good.

“No,” you replied politely but firmly, already taking a step back.

“Come on, just a little chat—”

“Is there a problem here?”

That voice. Low, firm, and unmistakably Seungcheol’s.

The guys froze, their smiles faltering as they turned to see him standing there. His towering frame, sharp jawline, and intense gaze were enough to make them instantly reconsider their life choices.

“N-no, man, we were just—”

“Leaving,” Seungcheol finished for them, his tone leaving no room for argument.

They didn’t need to be told twice, muttering apologies as they shuffled away.

You turned to Seungcheol, your eyebrows raised. “That wasn’t necessary. I could’ve handled it.”

“I know you could’ve,” he said, his tone softening as he looked at you. “But why should you have to?”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips. “My knight in shining board shorts.”

Seungcheol chuckled, nudging your shoulder gently. “Someone’s gotta keep you out of trouble.”

The two of you made your way back to the group, where Jeonghan and Seungkwan were snickering.

“Cheol scared off some beach bros, didn’t he?” Jeonghan guessed, smirking.

“Didn’t even have to try,” Seungkwan added. “He just exists, and they run for their lives.”

Seungcheol ignored them, guiding you to your chair and handing you a bottle of water. “Drink up,” he said, his hand brushing against yours briefly.

You didn’t miss the way his touch lingered or the way his gaze softened when he looked at you. And while the boys continued to tease him relentlessly, he just sat back with a satisfied smirk, his protective streak in full swing.

By the end of the day, no one even thought about approaching you again—not when Seungcheol made it very clear, without saying a word, that you weren’t alone.

The sun was beginning its slow descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The beach was quieter now, the once-loud waves now lapping gently at the shore. Seungcheol crouched down in front of you, his back turned as he gestured for you to hop on.

“Come on, before the sun sets,” he said, glancing over his shoulder with a small grin.

“Why do I have to be the one on your back?” you teased, but you didn’t hesitate to climb on, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as his hands secured your legs.

“Because I’d crush you if it were the other way around,” he shot back, standing effortlessly with you in tow.

He started walking along the shoreline, the sand soft beneath his feet. You leaned your cheek against his, your fingers lightly tapping against his chest as you spoke.

“Did you know that sea otters hold hands while they sleep so they don’t drift apart?”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. It’s called a raft. Isn’t that cute?”

“Almost as cute as you randomly spitting out facts,” he said with a chuckle, glancing sideways at you.

You ignored him, continuing your stream of trivia. “Oh! And dolphins have names for each other. Like, they have a specific whistle for every dolphin in their pod.”

“Do they have a whistle for their favorite dolphin?” he asked, his voice teasing.

“Obviously,” you said, squishing your cheek harder against his. “If I were a dolphin, you’d have a whistle just for me.”

“I already do,” he murmured, his words so soft that you almost didn’t catch them over the sound of the waves.

You paused for a moment, the warm breeze brushing past the two of you. Then, out of nowhere, you whispered, “I love you.”

Seungcheol froze mid-step, his breath hitching just enough for you to notice. Slowly, he turned his head to look at you, his cheek brushing against yours.

“I was hoping I’d say it first,” he said with a soft laugh, his dimples deepening as he smiled at you.

Your heart swelled at the sight, and you couldn’t help but grin back. “Guess you’re too slow, Cheol.”

“Guess so,” he replied, his voice warm and steady. Then, without putting you down, he turned to face the sunset.

“Say it again,” he said after a moment, his tone teasing but with a hint of something deeper beneath it.

“I love you,” you said, softer this time, your lips brushing against his ear as you spoke.

He let out a content sigh, his hands tightening slightly on your legs as if grounding himself in the moment.

“I love you too,” he finally said, his voice carrying all the tenderness he’d been holding back for so long.

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, you stayed there, clinging to each other, both knowing you had everything you could ever need right in that moment.

[t1red-twilight]

you remembered?

summary: dean isn’t used to celebrating his birthday.

content/warnings: gn!reader, fluff, some angst, allusions to abuse/neglect, john winchester when i catch you john winchester

notes: happy birthday dean!

word count: 1.1k

masterlist d. w. masterlist

there were a few things that you knew about dean. one, he was a night owl. two, he preferred pancakes over waffles. and three, he was not used to his birthday being remembered, let alone celebrated.

in all the time that you had known him you weren’t even told when his birthday was, at least for a while. given the constant life or death circumstances, it hadn’t crossed your mind to ask when it was or why you didn’t celebrate it. about six months ago you and sam were alone, and you remembered to ask.

sam told you what the date of his birthday was (january twenty-fourth), and the next thing he said just about made your jaw go slack. “we never really celebrated it,” he stated.

“what do you mean, you never celebrated it?”

sam pondered for a moment. “well, our dad always said that we didn’t have time for birthdays or christmas. it just wasn’t something we ever did, i guess.” you swallowed the words you wished to say. lord knows that if you spoke what you were thinking, you might get in trouble.

but sam continued. “dean celebrated my birthday with me a couple times, but our dad didn’t…take that too well. i think after a while he just forgot our birthdays.” your heart sunk. everything you learned about that man made you lean towards violence just a little bit more.

so, you took everything sam had said and you stored it in your brain for later use. eventually, his birthday approached. you figured he wouldn’t be into something super loud and big, considering that he hadn’t had a birthday celebration in what seemed to be quite a while.

two weeks before his birthday, you sat down and planned what you were going to do. you wanted something small, but nonetheless something that at least would make him feel recognized.

-

when dean woke up, he noticed that you weren’t in the bed next to him. he sat up, rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and looked around the room. you were nowhere to be seen.

he did notice, however, that the door to your shared bedroom was slightly ajar. and faintly he could hear the noise of pots and pan gently clanking in the kitchen.

he meandered out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. and there you stood, making breakfast. now you didn’t really have designated meal times; the two of you just ate whenever it seemed necessary. so the oddity of this current situation was not lost to him. “what are you doing?” he questioned.

turning, you saw him standing in the entrance in the kitchen. his shirt was ruffled and you couldn’t quite read the expression on his face. smiling, you answered. “i’m making breakfast.” his eye eyebrows slightly raised, and it seemed as if he looked a little bit shocked.

“why, though?” he followed through with his questioning. “you know, we don’t usually do stuff like this.” nothing in his tone was accusatory. if anything, the volume of his voice lowered in an unusual manner.

you turned back around to face the bacon that you were currently frying. hopefully you weren’t overstepping. maybe he just didn’t like his birthday? perhaps you shouldn’t have done anything at all.

you heard soft footsteps approach you from behind. dean’s hands moved to rest up upon your hips. slowly, he turned you around to look at him. his eyes, they looked…glassy? your brow knit together and your hands went up to hold his cheeks. his bottom lip began to quiver almost imperceptibly.

a silence filled the room. you could only hear the soft splattering of the bacon from behind you, and maybe even the soft hums of his breath as he looked at you. when you spoke, you made sure that your voice was lowered. you didn’t know if sam was here, and it was likely that dean would not want sam to overhear what was going on. “well, it’s kind of an important day. it’s pretty special.“

at this, you saw him look away briefly and blink rapidly. was he trying not to cry? you used your hands and moved his face back to face yours. “are you okay?“ you asked. oh god, you overstepped. and now, he was upset.

surprisingly, he nodded. “yes. i’m great,” he replied. you didn’t push him any further than he wanted to go.

a small, singular tear escaped from the corner of his eye. your thumb rose off his cheek and swiped it away. dean lowered his head into the crook of your shoulder, and pulled you close to him. his hands were sprawled across your back and held you ever so tightly. it looked as though his shoulders were shaking slightly, he was crying. you didn’t say anything.

you mirrored his motions, and pulled him close to you as well. you scratched his back lightly, and ran one hand through his hair. you reached behind yourself and turned the stove off to avoid any accidents. the embrace might have lasted for a few minutes or even longer, but you didn’t really know or care.

then, he spoke. his voice, though muffled, still communicated what he wanted to say clearly. “thank you for remembering,” he said. the quiver in his voice was not lost to you. how could it be that some cheap, overcooked bacon was eliciting such a response?

you kissed the part of his head that was most accessible to you and whispered back to him. “of course. it’s a special day, and you’re special to me.” he pulled away and looked at you. dean’s cheeks were damp and his lips were swollen from crying.

“no one’s ever done something like this for me i-“ a sob wracked his body and cut him off. you pulled him down to kiss you.

you hadn’t known dean for that long, one and a half, maybe two years. but in that time you really gotten close. and while you never verbally defined anything you both knew where the two of you stood.

dean kissed you back instantaneously and with such a fervor that sent a chill up your spine. you could feel the tears that slipped down his face, but didn’t mind in the slightest.

you pulled away and he kissed you once more in a pecking motion. your thumbs wiped away the tears that remained. “and i was thinking,” you started, “that we could go to the diner in town later. get some dinner and pie?”

“just you and me?” he asked, his face lighting up gently.

“yeah. just you and me.”

[shirakow]

❝ 𝓗.OME SWEET HOME ! ”

caleb x fem!reader / love and deepspace .

warning(s) include: SPOILER WARNING, nsfw content, hair pulling, porn with no plot, refers to readers vagina as ‘her’, and kinda sad? idk i randomly put sad parts bc i remembered his painful signal card

note: it’s been so long since I posted and I gotta say i rlly love caleb so ofc i had to post abt him. originally i played the game bc i wanted to make my mc cute but then i saw caleb and i kinda forgot abt my mc. she looks bomb tho

“It’s like she’s welcoming me home…” Caleb grunted into your ear, his hand pressing down on the light protrusion on the pit of your tummy—evidence of how deep he is in your heat. Snug and tight around his fat cock, just the way he loved it.

Tears brimmed the corner of your eyes as your tiny hands clawed at his back, your nails often bumping against the metal plates of his bionic arm.

“C-Caleb…”

A groan from him, “Yes, pip-squeak? That you or your pussy talking to me?” He grinned from ear to ear.

You’ve never once heard him talk such vulgarities towards you, especially not to your core of all things. Though you would be lying if you said you didn’t find it the least bit attractive.

The moment you—well, he adjusted to being inside you, he ground his pelvis against the curve of your ass. Each roll of his hips causing his eyes to flutter shut as he tried his best not to cum prematurely.

He was a man, through and through, and he wasn’t just gonna let his woman go high and dry. The last thing he wanted was to disappoint you and your pretty cunt.

One, two, three teasing thrusts came from him, the next ones more subtle and shallower than the last.

It was absolute torture, he was so deep inside you yet he barely even moved an inch? Shouldn’t he be more lenient? Nicer? Has the Fleet completely changed his generosity? These questions swirled around your head like cartoon birds, eating away your brain and turning it into mush.

Even your pussy cried out for more—leaking excess juices down his cock to taint his balls. The wetness was enough to resemble the tears that flowed freely from your eyes, and it almost broke Caleb’s walls down.

Almost, but not quite.

Caleb smiled, one of mischievous intent as he cupped your cheek and cooed at your pitiful expression. “You know I hate it when you cry…” Another shallow thrust.

“What does my girl want?” He was teasing you now. He pressed his forehead against yours, merely a breaths away from your quivering lips that which he thumbed and toyed with.

“Just say the word,” he whispered under his breath, the old Caleb you knew slipping past the Colonel front he put up ever since he joined the Fleet and it brought a sense of reprieve in you even for a moment. “Fast? Hard? Slow?” With each word he uttered, he gave a brief example before stopping completely.

You arched your back, pressing your chest against his as the need inside you began to grow like the plague, begging to be cured.

Caleb gave a sharp thrust before stilling his movements once more and kept his pelvis flushed against your rear, patiently waiting for your words of encouragement.

“Come on, pip-squeak…” Caleb pressed feather light kisses on your neck, “Talk to me.” A whimper escaped your lips at his words. “I…” You started while he hummed in response, non verbally telling you to go on as his bionic arm trailed down your sweaty body to cup your breasts.

Tweaking and flicking your pert nipple in between his cold, metallic fingers while closely watching your expressions, hyperaware of every detail on your face. Your pores, your lashes, your glossy eyes, your flushed cheeks—Christ, he wanted to move, now.

If you don’t beg soon enough, he’s gonna take matters into his own hands and make love—no, fuck you just the way he wanted.

“Please, move… I can’t—I can’t take anymore—“ a squeal erupted from your throat the moment he pulled his hips back and thrust back inside harshly immediately after those pleas left your mouth. The wet squelch of your pussy were music to his ears as he finally took what he and most especially you wanted.

His movements never faltered, it grew more fervent if anything, as if wanting to imprint his length along your gummy walls—to get you addicted to it. Caleb doesn’t know how long he’s fantasized of being inside you, claiming your cunny and fucking it into the shape of his cock so that it would fit him and only him.

Years of fisting his own hand, imagining it was you finally coming true. He could almost cry because of it. Caleb used his free hand to wrap your legs around his hips to pull him in deeper, closer to you. He felt like he was gonna die if he doesn’t merge with you; he needed to occupy the space between the both of you. He needed to feel you.

“Hold onto me,” he rasped, sweat dripping from his forehead and onto your face: your fucked out face that he loves so much. “Don’t you dare let go until I tell you to.” His words left no room for argument, and so you did. You held onto him like it was your life’s mission.

Your hands clawed at his toned back, leaving faint crescent marks and thin red lines on his scarred skin. “Caleb, Caleb—“ you sobbed uncontrollably, the tip of his length hitting every sensitive spot in your pussy.

As if he was born to be inside of you, born to be your partner, born to be your soulmate. The thought left a bitter taste on your tongue. Soulmate.

Sensing your sudden shift in mood, Caleb furrowed his brows and buried his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent and cradled your head, his hips never faltering in its speed even if he sensed the doubt in your eyes.

“Whatever you’re thinking about, stop it.” He grunted, moving faster and harder—the head of his cock finally hitting that spongy spot deep inside of you. Your eyes flew open and instinctively scratched him harder, his name falling from your lips like a desperate prayer. “That’s it, focus on me, only me, Caleb.” He wanted to relieve you of this internal pain so only the thought of his cock was left in your pretty little head. Thoughts of how much he can make you feel good, not the latter.

He closed his eyes shut the moment your gummy walls squeezed around his shaft, as if to say he should never leave your heat, and he will gladly oblige if you told him not to.

A bubble formed at the pit of your stomach, one that was just about ready to pop. Moans reverberated around the room, paired with the sounds of your coupling and the headboard hitting the wall with every violent thrust Caleb gave you—knocking the wind out of your lungs.

Your nails continued to dig into his skin almost desperately, causing a groan to sound from Caleb. “Harder, scratch me harder…” He urged as his bionic arm left your thigh to rub at your erect pearl in fast and tight circles.

The cold metal hit your clit and you immediately choked on your moans, the feel of it sending shivers and electricity down your spine. Complying, you did as he asked of you, and scratched his skin harder. Caleb groaned and accidentally fisted your hair which he still cradled.

It was the only way he could feel you—the pain you gave him, emotionally and physically. A side effect that came with the experiments at the Fleet, and he wishes he could turn back time to the moment where everything went wrong and give you all the love you deserved. Even if it hurt, he’ll go through hell and back just to feel you on his skin once more.

“Cum for me, pip-squeak…” He huffed into your ear, “Show me just how much you missed me.” With a few more thrusts, you eventually came—squirt dripping and spraying all over your sweaty bodies.

It didn’t take long from Caleb to follow, giving a particularly harsh grind of his hips and he came deep inside of your womb, effectively filling up the void of your tummy as he collapsed on top of you. The two of you heaved for breath but you seemed the most out of it.

Caleb panted and began to pepper kisses along the skin of your neck and rubbed the back of your head as a way to apologize for pulling on your hair. “Are you okay? Did I go too hard?” He asked breathlessly and used his arms to push himself up so he wasn’t crushing you with his weight.

Caleb rested his body on his elbows as he cupped your flushed cheeks to check up on you. You gave him a faint nod and smiled, “Mhm…” You nuzzled into his palm and turned your head to gently kiss it. “I’m okay…”

He sighed in relief and nuzzled his nose against yours, “That’s good… I didn’t want to hurt you.” His lips found yours, moving it in tandem with the beating of your hearts as he remained snug in your tight heat. “That’s the last thing I wanted…” He eventually separated from the kiss and stared at you, love and affection lay bare in his eyes.

He never wanted to pull out. Was he even talking about your core anymore? Probably not. Either way, it didn’t matter. Caleb laid on his side and pulled you in close gently, not wanting to put more pressure on your sensitive pussy. His arms caged you in his embrace as he inhaled the scent of your shampoo and let his eyes flutter shut.

“I won’t ever leave you again…” He whispered, “I promise.”

[fluff-lover]

Healing Touch | Chapter 6: Healed hearts

Logan Howlett x fem!Reader

A/N: It's finally here! The final chapter! If you've made it this far, I wanted to say thank you for reading!!

There are no warnings for this chapter I guess, it's just pure fluff (with a tiny little bit of angst)

Masterlist

-

The mansion was unusually quiet when you and Logan arrived late that evening: no students running through the halls, no sounds of laughter or training in the yard. With the students on vacation and Jean and Scott away on their honeymoon, there really wasn’t much to do around.

“You’re back!” Ororo said from the staircase as she made her way to you. “We missed you!” She added while hugging you.

“Hi Ro.” You said hugging her back. “It’s good to be back home.”

“How was the trip?” She asked.

“I’ll take the suitcases upstairs.” Logan suddenly said before leaving the two of you alone.

Ororo frowned.

“Is he okay?” She whispered and you nodded your head.

“Yeah, don’t worry about him. The trip was… eventful, to say the least. He learned a lot about himself and his past. But you know how he is, he doesn’t talk much about himself. I think he’ll tell you about it eventually, once he’s ready.” You explained.

“What about you?” She asked.

“What about me?”

“Did you have a pleasant trip?”

You had to hold yourself back from giggling like a schoolgirl. You wanted so much to tell her about everything, about Logan and you getting together, but you still hadn’t had the “what are we?” talk with Logan.

“It was… really good.” You smiled. Ororo gave you a suspicious look, but didn’t press.

Logan waited for you in your bedroom after dropping by your suitcase. The second you stepped in he closed the door and kissed you. You smiled against his lips and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Did you tell her about us?” He asked.

“No, I didn’t but I think she suspects something. Should we tell her and the others?” You asked.

Logan shook his head. 

“Not right now. I like the idea of us having something just for ourselves.” He smiled and nuzzled your nose.

“You’re not embarrassed of me, are you?” you asked. It was supposed to be a joke, but deep down there was always a little bit of doubt. Logan pulled back with a frown.

“Are you for real right now?” He asked in disbelief. You shrugged and pouted cutely.

“No, but it’s nice to be reassured.”

Logan rolled his eyes.

“No, I’m not embarrassed and I don’t mind people knowing. You’re free to tell your friends.” Logan said. “I just don’t want to jinx it, you know? this is so recent I don’t want to rush into things and mess it up.” he confessed.

His words made you smile, but it was the vulnerable look in his eyes that made you melt in his arms. You knew he wasn’t the relationship type of man, so this was probably uncharted territory for him, even after 200 years.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You bit your lower lip and caressed his cheek. “Can you stay for a little bit?” You asked wiggling your eyebrows. Logan smirked.

“Baby, I’d stay until you kick me out.” He said before picking you up and taking you to the bed, you giggled and kicked your feet in the air all the way.

With the students on break, you and Logan found yourselves with a rare taste of freedom. You returned to the hospital to volunteer, but you also started visiting places like a nursing home, offering your powers to those who needed it most. Logan, meanwhile, kept an eye on the few kids who had stayed behind: unfortunately, not all of them had homes to return to for the holidays. When he wasn’t looking after them, he’d take the occasional motorcycle ride to clear his head.

You would share short little moments and maybe a kiss or two when no one was watching, but at night Logan would sneak into your bedroom for some alone time. Your relationship was developing into something sweet and comforting and you couldn’t remember the last time you were this happy. It was scary how fast you fell for Logan. You were nowhere near ready to tell him you loved him, not because you didn’t love him, but because you didn’t want to scare him away. In the meantime you showed your affection in other ways and you were planning a little surprise for him: you were in the process of getting his father’s watch fixed.

One evening, he invited you along for a ride on his bike. The two of you ended up at a diner just outside of town. It was everything you could hope for on a date: burgers, milkshakes, and a slice of pie for dessert. Sitting together in a cozy booth, his arm draped casually over your shoulders, you couldn’t help but feel like a teenager out with your crush. The ease of his company, the quiet way he glanced at you when he thought you weren’t looking, it all made your heart flutter in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

By the time you returned to the mansion, the world was dark and quiet. You expected everyone to be asleep, but as you quietly pushed the door open, Ororo was waiting for you in the hallway, arms crossed and a knowing smile playing on her lips.

“And where, pray tell, have you two been?” she asked, her tone laced with teasing amusement. Logan barely missed a beat. 

“What are you, my mother?” he shot back, his signature gruffness unable to hide the slight smirk tugging at his lips.

You bit back a laugh, shaking your head as Ororo chuckled softly. “Just making sure you weren’t up to too much trouble.”

“We went out for a bite. I never rode a bike before so I asked Logan if it was okay for him to take me.” You said, which wasn’t entirely untrue.

“Mhmmm…” Ro arched an eyebrow giving you both an unimpressed look. “Right, well, it’s late so off to bed the two of you.”

“Again, not my mother.” Logan said annoyed. You chuckled and shook your head.

“Thanks for the ride, Logan! Good night!” You said before heading to the staircase.

“My pleasure, Angel.” He replied with a fond smile. 

Ororo narrowed her eyes, she had only ever seen that look on Logan’s face before, and it was when he looked at Jean.

“You two are onto something and I will find out soon enough.” She said.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Logan said before quickly walking away so she wouldn’t see the goofy smile on his face.

Only ten minutes later Logan was sneaking out of his room and into yours, catching you by surprise halfway through your nightly routine.

“Logan! Jesus! I didn’t expect you until later!” You said embarrassed. You had a fluffy headband you used when you washed your face, you wore ratty clothes instead of the sexy nightgown you planned to wear that night, and had under-eyes masks on.

Logan chuckled and pulled you closer.

“So this is what you’re up to before I come here, uh?”

You groaned and hid your face on his chest.

“I have to make myself pretty for you.” You mumbled.

“Oh baby,” He cooed. “You’re always pretty to me. Beautiful. Gorgeous.” He kissed the top of your head. You smiled, your face warming up.

“And you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.” You said before walking him to your bed. “Tonight was so nice! I like our little getaways.”

Logan chuckled.

“We should do it more often, although Ororo will definitely catch on.” He said as he sat down at the foot of your bed.

“And here I thought Charles was the mind reader.” You joked. “Maybe we’re being too obvious?” Logan pulled you closer so you were standing between his legs.

“Nah, she’s just being nosy… Now, no more talking about Ro, I came here to see my little angel.”

You smiled and ran your fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes and hummed happily.

“I’m glad to see you’re not tired of me yet.” You joked.

“Never.” He pulled you even closer and you leaned to kiss him. 

“Let me finish getting ready and we’ll continue this.” You said with a playful tone. Logan shook his head and held you tighter.

“All this sneaking around makes me wanna enjoy every second I have with you.” He said before throwing you on the bed. 

Under-eye masks be damned.

He had a good point: your time together was limited. Logan still opted to sleep alone in his own room. Both of you longed to share a bed, wrapped in each other's arms, but his fear of accidentally hurting you during a nightmare was too big to ignore. 

However, saying goodnight was becoming increasingly difficult and each night took longer. You clung to Logan and begged him not to leave your bed for at least five more minutes. Those five minutes usually turned into an hour and you only let him go when you were already asleep.

Tonight wasn’t any different. Logan said goodnight with several kisses and caresses on your sleepy face before quietly stepping out of the room. He had to be very quiet not to wake up anyone and create suspicions.

“I FUCKING KNEW IT!” Logan jumped and turned around, finding Ororo at the end of the hall with a glass of milk in her hand and a smug look on her face.

“Oh for fuck’s sake…” Logan sighed.

-

You and Logan sat on one side of the table, while Ororo, Rogue, and Kitty sat across from you. Breakfast had been served, but no one was eating. On one hand, you felt like a kid about to be lectured by your parents; on the other, it was as if you were about to be interrogated by the FBI. The tension in the air was palpable, sharp and heavy, like the moments before defusing a bomb.

“Is this really necessary?” Logan asked.

“Yes!” Both Rogue and Kitty replied.

“Fine.” He grumbled. “Let’s get over this, what do you wanna know?”

“Everything!” Rogue answered as if it was the most obvious thing.

“Let’s start from the beginning.” Ororo said with her arms folded over the table. “When did you start seeing each other?”

“During our trip to Canada.” You said.

“And?” Kitty pushed.

“And… what?” Logan asked.

“How did it start? Who kissed who first?” Rogue said.

“Was it snowing? Was it romantic?” Kitty added.

“Was it a “long time coming” type of thing? Or was it an impulse?” Rogue added.

“Whoa, girls, that’s a lot of questions.” You said.

“Not to mention, very personal.” Logan added. You felt bad for him, this was clearly not how he wanted people to know.

“All you need to know is that Logan was a perfect gentleman during our first kiss.” You said. “And that’s all I’ll say about that.”

Logan glanced at you, but you found him hard to read. Was he satisfied by your answer? Or was he mad that you indulge them? You couldn’t tell.

“Alright, that’s good… for now.” Ororo said. “Let’s skip to the important stuff.”

“Oh lord…” You were terrified.

“Are you guys in a relationship? Or are you just fooling around?” She asked.

“That’s none of your business.” Logan hissed. And he was 100% right, but a small part of you hoped he would confirm your relationship status.

“Guys, this is all very recent, we’re still figuring things out ourselves.” You said, trying to defuse the situation. 

“We’re only asking because we love you and we want to see you happy.” Rogue said while pointedly looking at Logan.

“We’re fine.” Logan said, which wasn’t much of an answer.

“Then why are you sneaking around? You left her room in the middle of the night, that sounds like just fooling around to me.” Ororo pressed.

Logan suddenly got up, his chair scratching the floor loudly and making you flinch. Clearly Ororo pushed too hard on a touchy subject. 

“That’s enough.” Logan said before walking out of the room. He didn’t want them to know he was afraid of falling asleep next to you. He felt vulnerable enough as everyone knew about the night he stabbed you.

You watched him walk away with a heaviness in your chest. When you turned back you had all three women looking at you expectantly.

“Logan is right. This is a private matter we shouldn’t be discussing with anyone but each other.” You gave Ororo a look. “I told you he would talk once he’s ready. Now he may close off again.” You sighed tiredly. 

“What about you, though?” Rogue asked. You looked at her confused.

“What about me?”

“We care about you too.” Ororo said. “Logan can be… well, difficult. You spend so much time caring for him, helping him with his memory… is it worth it? I mean, he sneaks out of your bedroom at night, why is that?”

Now you understand why Logan was so upset. The implication that your partner wasn’t good enough for you, or that you weren’t happy in the relationship, was overstepping.

“Not that it is any of your business, but he insists on sleeping on his own bed because he’s too afraid of hurting me again.” You explained. The girls shared a look as they remembered that fateful night. “This is the happiest I’ve ever been and I don’t need anyone mendling in my business. If I ever need your help or want your opinion, I’ll let you know.” You said before getting up from the chair and walking out.

-

The rest of the morning felt heavy after the breakfast interrogation. You couldn’t help but replay Logan’s abrupt exit in your mind. Was Logan upset that everyone knew? Was he embarrassed? Did this mean you weren’t something serious after all? You clung to the conversations you had before where he reassured you, but doubt kept you on edge.

Lost in your thoughts you made your way to your usual bench. The fresh morning air soothed you a little bit, and you felt like you could think a little bit clearer. This is where Logan found you.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice gruff but tinged with concern.

“I guess… What about you? You looked really upset.”

Logan sighed, sitting next to you on the bench. 

“They had no right to pry like that.” he said.

“They were out of line,” you agreed. “But… I think they got to my head. I can’t help wondering. Are we… serious? I mean, what are we?” You mentally braced for his response.

“You’re serious to me,” he said firmly, leaving no room for doubt. “You think I’d go through all this sneakin’ around for just anyone? You’re my girl.” He took your hand. “My little angel.”

You thought you would melt there and then, your heart exploded with happiness.

“Only yours.” You smiled. “No more sneaking around, okay? We can continue sleeping in separate rooms, but I don’t want to hide the fact that we’re together.”

“I’m okay with that.” Logan nodded.

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t expect us to make out like horny teenagers in the hall or the classrooms. We still need to act like teachers in front of our students.” You said and Logan laughed, throwing his arm around your shoulders.

You smiled and leaned your head on his shoulder.

You were officially Logan’s girl.

-

As expected Logan arrived at your bedroom after dinner, ready for your usual nightly routine. Despite sleeping in his own bedroom, you noticed bits and pieces of him scattered in your room: he had a toothbrush and a bottle of cologne in your bathroom, there was a pair of clean socks and underwear in your dresser; a flask and an ashtray in case he wanted a drink or to smoke after sex, which happened pretty much every night… 

You loved it. You loved knowing Logan felt safe and comfortable with you.

Later on you rested your naked body on top of his, a light sheen of sweat covering both of you after some intense activities. Logan was the best lover you had. Not only he focused on your pleasure over his, but he was also very creative in the bedroom. At first you felt a little bit embarrassed that you weren’t as adventurous as he was, and you were a bit shy, but Logan was more than eager to help you explore your body and find what you liked best. He never pushed too hard and he always reassured you there was nothing wrong with liking sex or enjoying your sexuality.

He really was the best you ever had. In every sense of the word.

So there you were, hair all messy, sheets pooling around your legs, his hands tracing lightly on your back, when you remembered something.

“I have something for you,” you said as you sat up on the bed and reached for something on your bedside table. Logan sat up and leaned against the headboard, curious to see what you got.

You pulled out a little box neatly wrapped with a silver bow on top and handed it to him. Logan took it and hesitated to open it. 

“What’s the occasion? I didn’t get you anything.”

You giggled.

“No occasion, it’s not a big deal. Come on, open it.”

What Logan didn’t know is that you took his father’s watch to a clocksmith and got it fixed.

When he unwrapped it and saw the watch his expression softened in a way that made your heart ache.

“My father’s watch…” he murmured, running his thumb over the polished surface.

“I got it fixed for you,” you said quietly. “I thought maybe it’d be nice to have something of his, you know, now that you’re remembering more about him.”

Logan sat there in silence for so long you started to worry you’ve done something wrong. But then he pulled you into a hug, holding you tightly.

“You’re something else, baby” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

When he pulled back, you caressed his cheek.

“I just want you to be happy, Logan.”

He smiled and kissed you softly.

“I am. I really am, for the first time in a long time.”

You laid back down on the bed and watched as Logan traced his thumb over the watch lovingly.

“You know… I have a bone to pick with you.” He suddenly said. You frowned and looked up at him.

“What do you mean?”

“You lied to me.” Logan replied and you jumped on the bed, quickly sitting up.

“What are you talking about?” You asked worriedly. Logan simply chuckled which only confused even more.

“A while back you told me that the only thing you couldn’t heal was a broken heart.” He said, a soft look in his eyes. You remembered that conversation, it was the night Scott and Jean got engaged and you were trying to comfort Logan despite your own heartache. “You lied.” Logan continued. “You healed mine. Thank you.”

Tears pooled in your eyes, overwhelmed by his tenderness.

“And you healed mine.” you whispered. Logan caressed your cheek and wiped a tear away.

“I’m not good at this kinda thing, but… I love you. I really do.”

Your breath hitched at the confession.

“I love you, too.” You leaned down and kissed him. “And just so you know, you’re much better than you give yourself credit for.”

Too happy and excited to sleep, you two stayed up talking almost the entire night. Eventually you reached the subject of his memory since there was still work to do.

“So, what’s next in recovering your memories?” You asked. Logan exhaled, his chin resting lightly on your head. 

“After Alberta?...” Logan sighed. “Madripoor.”

“Madripoor,” you repeated softly. “Sounds interesting.”

“Oh you have no idea.” Logan chuckled lightly, his breath warm against your hair.

“I’ll start with the preparations in the morning.” you said before closing your eyes and snuggling more onto him.

Logan fell asleep shortly after you, forgetting completely about going back to his own room. He never wanted to sleep in another bed without you.

-

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[mochacoda]

what is love? | chs

Pairing: Chwe Vernon x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: What is love? If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that it’s what you feel for Vernon Chwe. Unfortunately for you, you really didn’t know any better. It’s been 2 days since you confessed to your best friend that you love him, and it’s been 2 days since you’ve talked to him. Now you're hiding in the bridal suite of your friend's wedding, avoiding him.

Content: Angst, Fluff, Comfort | Friends to Lovers

Tags: bridesmaid!reader, groomsman!vernon, insecure reader, jihyo appears, dino's getting married in this one lolz, intense pining, lots of internal spiraling, vernon's facial expressions get flamed, 2 kdrama fall moments, a little konglish w/ translations, a kiss, no "y/n"

Word Count: 6.3K

What is love? If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that it’s what you feel for Chwe Vernon. Unfortunately for you, though, you really didn’t know any better, and now you’re facing the consequences of your actions. 

It’s been two days since you confessed to your best friend that you love him, and it’s been two days since you’ve talked to the man. Honestly, you have no one to blame but yourself, but you’ve convinced yourself that it’s everyone else’s fault for encouraging you. Maybe, if they hadn’t kept pushing you to confess to him—insisting that he definitely was into you—then you wouldn’t be in this position. 

Said position involves taking turns hiding in the bridal suite and bathroom of this wedding venue. In fact, you’re so committed to your act that you’ve practically become one with the shadows.

If anything, Vernon should be grateful that you’re going out of your way to avoid him. That way, he wouldn’t get bombarded with the secondhand embarrassment from remembering that horrible day. 

The only reason you’re here right now is because both Chan and his bride are close friends of yours, and you wouldn’t want to miss their wedding for the world. Plus, you’re also a bridesmaid. 

It was on you for blurting a disastrous confession to Vernon a few hours after the wedding rehearsal. 

But the bride and groom don’t even know that things have changed between the two of you. Given the chaos of wedding preparations, you withheld the fact that you and Vernon are going through a rough patch right now—if not the end of the friendship entirely. You didn’t want to add to their stress, but now you feel like you’re on fire. 

After all, Vernon is one of the groomsmen. What’s worse is, the wedding plans involve bridesmaids and groomsmen walking down the aisle in pairs, and you’d been placed with Vernon without a second thought. 

In other words, you’re completely screwed. 

“T-minus 20,” your friend and fellow bridesmaid Jihyo says, nudging your side. “We should go now.”

You feel a faint pulsing at the forefront of your head, a headache creeping up on you. God, what if when he sees you, he shakes his head and makes an X or something with his hands, insisting that he won’t walk down with you? What if he finds you physically embarrassing to be around, and just walks away? You’ve been running away from him all day, so it might not be a stretch to consider that he might have been trying to get away from you, too. 

You groan, scrunching the root of your hair, somewhat messing up your carefully curled hair. No, he wouldn’t just leave, that would ruin the wedding. He has too much love for Chan to do that to him. If he protests, he’d either do it subtly right before or confront you after it’s all over. 

You shut your eyes and take a deep breath. No one knows about your falling out except for you. And, well, Vernon, of course, but that’s not who you have to keep this secret from. You have to do your best to act normal and not at all like your heart is on the verge of bursting. 

“Has anyone ever died of embarrassment?” you suddenly ask, fingers dancing to find something to channel your nervous energy into. You fist a bit of the dress you’re wearing, then release it when you realize you can’t wrinkle the pretty material. “Shit.” You smooth over the fabric with shaky, sweaty hands.

“What is going on with you?” Jihyo’s eyes narrow as she looks you over. 

“I’ll tell you later,” you manage, bouncing your leg up and down. 

“Later, as in when?” 

“After the wedding,” you grit. You want to bury your face in your hands, but the expensive makeup gives you pause. You settle for lowering your head, staring listlessly at the white tiles on the ground. 

“Is this about what happened with Vernon?” 

You whip your head up. “You know?”

Jihyo slowly blinks, then deadpans, “Uh, yeah? A, both of you have been weird. The last time I saw you two not together was like, five years ago. And B, you’re literally the least subtle person I’ve ever met.”

“Oh,” you squeak, then quickly ask, “Wait, what do you think happened with Vernon?”

She stares blankly at you, as if the answer is obvious. “You confessed. He said nothing. You ran away.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, eyes growing comically large. Then, a frown replaces your shock. You don’t need to ask her how she knows. If anything, it just adds to the notion that even your other friends knew that he would’ve rejected you.

Jihyo sighs, coming over to the loveseat to sit next to you. She gives you a warm side hug, rubbing your back. “He’s a massive idiot. It’s gonna be okay. Let’s just get it together for the wedding, hmm?”

You swallow roughly, then nod. 

She continues, “Seriously, though. I’ve known Vernon for almost as long as you have. He’s not great at talking when he’s caught off guard—you know that, too.”

You blink at her words, the tiniest spark of hope igniting in your chest. But you quickly stamp it out, remembering the face he had made when you blurted out that you loved him.

Brows furrowed, open-mouthed, eyes wide, dead silent—he had to have been looking at you with disgust. That was the only way any sane person could decipher that look, really! There was no way that that face was the look of a man who was in love with you, as your friends have claimed.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say, wrinkling your mouth into a smile that anyone could tell was faked. “I’ll get through it.”

“Yeah, it’s not that deep. Just walk down the aisle with him. It’ll take 10 seconds, tops.”

You’re very sure she’s exaggerating, but you wave it off. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” she says dryly.

You glare at her. “I’ll be fine.”

“Good, that’s the right mentality,” she says, clasping your shoulders, shaking your upper body. “파이팅! [Fighting!]”

“해야지, [gotta do it,]” you mutter. 

Jihyo’s right. You’ll have to see Vernon anyway, so you might as well do it with as much dignity as you can scrap together. 

Except, the little dignity you have left demands some more time to procrastinate and linger in your regret.

Jihyo stands up from the couch, but you don’t. Your limbs feel impossibly heavy, as if they’ve been held down by a massive boulder.

You groan, “Just go without me, I’ll leave soon. I wanna go as late as possible.” 

Jihyo looks at you with what you can only describe as immense pity. “Okay. I’ll see you in five?” 

You nod numbly, watching her walk away to open the doors of the bridal suite. 

Vaguely, you can hear some absentminded chatter across the room from the hair and makeup artists, mother of the bride, and maid of honor, all crowded over the bride. It’s all but a buzz in the back of your mind, though, since you’re preoccupied with trying to convince yourself that you have it in you to face Vernon. Knowing you only have five minutes before needing to walk down the aisle with him, your mouth feels dry—too dry. 

At that realization, you force your heavy limbs to get up, then walk over the fancy rug to the table where a myriad of miscellaneous objects have been strewn about. You reach for your bag to take out your water bottle, but your hands falter when you look at the little keychain attached to the bag. 

It’s a silver charm bracelet you’ve repurposed as a bag charm. It has a turtle and retriever puppy on it, representing the animals you’ve viewed each other as being. Seeing the charms causes a pang of longing to cut deep into you, reminding you of how much you’ve missed him in the last two days. 

Could you ever forgive yourself for ruining your precious friendship? For getting too greedy, for asking for too much? 

Your hands grip the edge of the table roughly, searching for something to stabilize your body, which is dangerously teetering in the high heels you had convinced yourself you’d be able to walk properly in. You’d bought it because the color of the shoe perfectly matches your dress, but the razor thin heel is proving to be an issue. 

Subconsciously, your hand reaches out from the table corner to your bag, gently rubbing the golden retriever charm Vernon always said looked like you, and you’re hit with a sudden intense wave of sadness—but not for the confession. 

No, instead, you turn your regret to the insecure internal ramblings that have ravaged you lately. 

The earnest, bright eyes of the little puppy charm makes you conscious of the hollow ache spreading throughout your body. How could you have been so mean to your poor, fragile heart? 

Alright, maybe you and Vernon wouldn’t be friends anymore. Maybe you would have to live without seeing him ever again. 

But you’d have to live with yourself, and it wasn’t right to treat yourself like this. 

Technically, Vernon didn’t even say anything to you. He didn’t outright reject you just yet, and he certainly didn’t say you weren’t someone worthy of love. So it was completely unfair for you to jump to those conclusions yourself, putting words in his mouth. 

And most of all, it would be even more unfair to you, represented by this adorable puppy charm, to lose yourself to heartbreak. 

Straightening your back, your other hand reaches into your bag for your water bottle. Upon chugging the remainder of the water, you close your eyes, concentrating on making your pulse slow down. It works, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

You might have to live with the fallout of this confession, but you could also live with the truth. Loving Vernon wasn't a mistake, and it wouldn't feel like one, no matter how he responded. He deserved honesty, and you deserved to stand by it. Even if this was the end, you wanted to leave this part of your story knowing you'd done right by both of you. 

You nod to no one in particular, having made your mind up. After the wedding, you’ll go to him and be upfront about it all, bearing your soul to his response. 

For now, though, you’ll help him enjoy the wedding by continuing to stay out of his sight. If he can’t see you, he can’t get reminded of his need to reject you—which is important, of course, because you don’t want his memories of this wedding to be of you crying after he lets you down. 

With this renewed clarity, you steady yourself. Vernon doesn’t love you, and that’s okay. You’d do enough loving for the both of you.

────୨ৎ────

Vernon steps into the bridal suite, a thrum of nerves coursing through his veins. He’s spent the past half-hour searching for you in every nook and cranny of the venue, dodging curious glances and knowing jokes from the other groomsmen about his obvious distraction. Jihyo’s the one who finally pointed him in the right direction, murmuring something about how it’s been over five minutes, and how he’s the only one who can get you to show up.

When he sees you standing by the table, shoulders tense, your hands gripping the edge like it’s the only thing keeping you upright, his breath catches. There you are, beautiful and strong and fragile all at once, lost in your thoughts. His chest constricts. How did it come to this? How did the best thing in his life become the one thing he feels he’s on the verge of losing?

“Hey,” he says softly, taking a step forward, calling your name softly.

Your head snaps up at the sound of his voice, and the sudden movement sends you teetering in your high heels. Eyes wide, you twist toward him, your balance faltering. “Vernon?”

It happens in a split second. One of your heels trips on the edge of the rug, and you stumble forward. Vernon darts forward instinctively, grabbing you just before you hit the ground. His arms wrap around you tightly, steadying you.

For a moment, everything stops. Leaning against his chest, you can hear his heartbeat, a frantic rhythm that matches your own. God, your near face plant must have scared him a lot?

But just as you start to regain your footing, your heel accidentally digs into his foot, and he lets out a yelp of pain. 

The abrupt shift in weight sends him off balance, and the two of you tumble onto the floor in a tangled heap.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Vernon’s crazy seagull call of a laugh cuts through the tension. 

It’s infectious, and before you know it, you’re both laughing, the sound filling the room. It’s ridiculous, it’s messy, and it’s the most alive you’ve felt in days.

When your body relaxes all of its tension, you realize that you’ve missed him with every fiber of your being. That something in you has been waiting for him, like you’ve been in withdrawal without hearing his laughter in the last two days. 

You’d planned on continuing to avoid him until the end of the wedding, so that he could enjoy his night without you, but that idea is crumbling right before your eyes. You might not be able to bring yourself to stay away from him any longer. 

And then, oh, then—the laughter fades, and you realize how close you are. 

Vernon’s face is inches from yours, his warm breath fanning across your skin. His eyes, dark and soft, hold a depth of emotion that makes your stomach twist. And for a fleeting moment, you think you see something raw and unguarded in his gaze—something that looks a lot like love.

Your chest tightens, and your thoughts spiral. No—it can’t be. What about his nauseated reaction the other day? 

You scramble to put distance between you, pushing yourself off him and stepping back hastily. Too hastily, really.

“I’m so sorry,” you stammer, smoothing down the fabric of your dress as if that will somehow restore your composure. “I didn’t mean to, I swear—”

“It’s okay,” Vernon says gently, sitting up. 

He reaches an arm out for you, but you’ve already retreated several steps, an apologetic smile plastered on your face.

“We should get going,” you say, your tone overly formal. “It’s almost time.” Without waiting for his response, you turn on your heel and stride toward the door, your movements stiff and hurried.

Vernon watches you go, his hand stiffly dropping to his side. He flexes it, then exhales sharply, frustration bubbling beneath the surface of his calm exterior. 

You’re running again, and he’s running out of time to fix this. 

Pushing himself to his feet, he follows you out of the suite, his long strides easily catching up to you.

The two of you arrive at the line of bridesmaids and groomsmen just as the coordinator starts organizing everyone into pairs. You avoid Vernon’s gaze, your hands clasped tightly in front of you. 

But when it’s your turn to step forward, he’s there, holding out his hand to you. 

It shakes a little, and your breath hitches when you notice a flash of silver on his wrist. It’s a charm bracelet, and it’s unmistakably the same one you’ve kept on your bag for years, the little turtle and retriever puppy charms glinting under the soft light. 

Surely not? 

Surely, he doesn’t?

Tentatively, you place your hand in his, your fingers trembling. His grip is familiar, warm, and steady, grounding you even as your emotions threaten to overwhelm you. 

As you walk toward the aisle together, you don't look at whoever you're supposed to be looking at, whether it's the officiant or the people clapping in the crowd. Instead, your eyes are trained on the jewelry peeking out of his sleeve, and how his hand feels so soft and warm and dependable against yours. 

Then, it suddenly occurs to you that maybe, just maybe, you saw it wrong that day. Maybe he wasn’t looking at you like he was appalled by your audacity to tell him your feelings. He might have actually really been confused, allowing for you to misinterpret his surprise for rejection. 

But as soon as the thought enters your mind, you dismiss it. False hope definitely wouldn’t do anything for your precious feelings. Especially when the hope was that Vernon, of all people, would love you as much as you love him.

Desperately avoiding eye contact with the man in question, you stare straight at the bridesmaid-groomsman pair in front of you. 

If Vernon loved you back, then he’d say it. He’d show it somehow, some day. Today wasn’t that day, and that’s okay. 

You’d be alright without him, eventually. Probably. Hopefully?

With that rationale, you do your best to ignore your trembling legs, burning ears, and constricting chest. The bride and groom deserve a perfect procession, and you would play your role well. 

────୨ৎ────

It was a beautiful ceremony. And, three hours into the reception, you’re proud to say that you’ve survived. Promptly after the procession, you separated from Vernon, finding refuge within the bridesmaid group. Ever since, you’ve flitted around different tables, dancing with random people, all in the name of protecting him from seeing you. 

You’re actually incredible at avoiding people, if you do say so yourself. Every time you’ve seen Vernon within 50 feet of your vicinity, you’ve grabbed someone new to dance with or talk to. And for especially close calls, you’ve dragged Jihyo into the bathroom. 

This time, though, you’re hiding in the bathroom without her. She’d finally refused to go with you for the nth time. The brat had thrown you to the wolves, essentially. No girl code—the nerve of her!

Patting down the roots and length of your hair, which had gotten a bit frizzy, you stare at yourself blankly in the mirror, watching a shiver run down your spine from the cold air-conditioning blasting in the small space. 

Despite your efforts to calm down, a heavy sigh escapes your mouth, your shoulders feeling far too heavy. What are you doing, hiding?

God, you love him so much. So much that you’re willing to dance around him so he doesn’t get reminded of you, so that he doesn’t worry about how to reject you all night, so that he can just enjoy the wedding. 

What even is love? 

You’ve heard that love is sacrifice, and if what you feel is really love, then, well. You’ll have to try not to love anyone but yourself from now on, because unrequited love is somewhat horrible. 

You’ll get over him someday, right? 

Right?

Before you can psych yourself out of leaving the freezing but rather safe haven that is the restroom, you march over to the door with a new mantra. You shake your shoulders and roll your neck, cracking the joints in your fingers. 

“I’ll get over it,” you murmur. “I’m over it. I’m over it! Over, over, over.” 

Pushing the door open, you continue rambling to yourself. “I’ll get over it. Over, over, over, over...”

“Over what?” comes a familiar voice.

Oh, shit.

Wide-eyed, you look up to see Vernon blocking your way past the bathroom and back into the hallway leading to the reception. 

“Oh,” you gasp, limbs frozen. your eyes flit back to the door to the women’s restroom again, contemplating ditching him cheaply (again). 

Vernon steps closer, his gaze softening as he notices your hesitation. His voice is low and gentle—too gentle—when he speaks, almost as if he’s unsure how to break the silence.

"Hey," he says softly, his hand reaching out, fingers brushing against your arm. "You don't have to hide from me, y’know."

You glance up at him, your adrenaline flowing through your veins. You want to back away, to keep putting distance between you, but something about his insistent stare makes your legs freeze.

"I know it's been awkward," Vernon continues, his words more measured now. "But I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. I just—I just want to talk." He brings his right hand up to his chest, like he’s swearing that he speaks the truth. 

You shake your head, your voice trembling. "You don’t have to. I don’t want to make things worse."

Vernon furrows his brows, stepping closer, as if he can’t bear to see you pull away from him again. "You think that running away will fix it? You think I want you to hide from me?"

You swallow hard, avoiding his eyes. "I don't know. This is all new to me."

"Then let me say it.” Vernon’s voice is strangled. "I don’t want to lose you, okay? I didn’t want it to happen like this, I…” His voice trails off as he clenches his fists, shutting his eyes tightly before opening them again. “Please don’t think I shut you down, I just—I needed some time to process everything. I care about you a lot—so much more than I know how to show, sometimes. Or,” he huffs with red-rimmed eyes, “a lot of the time."

A silence settles between you, thick and heavy, but Vernon doesn’t seem to notice. He looks at you with downturned, shining eyes, and you feel your defenses slowly start to crumble. 

You’ve never seen him so devastated. 

"Come here," Vernon says softly, his arm reaching out to tug you closer, now fully clinging to your side. "Please don’t keep running. Please?” He says the last word like it’s a prayer—and, oh, is it a powerful one.

Every part of your body stiffens, caught off guard by how warm he is, then immediately relaxes at how gently he’s holding you, as if you would break if he held on any tighter.

"Please don’t run from me anymore," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. 

You think you could melt into his arms, and it takes everything within you to trust him, to not back away like you have for the past two days. With each passing second, you feel your spine relaxing and leaning into his touch. Then, in the midst of your relaxation, it occurs to you that he’s awaiting your reply.

But before you can answer his pleas, the sound of hurried footsteps echoes through the hallway. Jumping apart like fugitives before the law, you both turn to see Jihyo skidding around the corner, her face flushed with panic.

“There you are!” she exclaims, eyes wide. “The bouquet toss is about to happen! Get over here!” 

Before you can even blink, Jihyo grabs your wrist, pulling you away from the delicate warmth of Vernon’s embrace. 

“Now!” she shouts. 

You twist your back around to send him a helpless look, and all he gives you is an encouraging nod and the cutest, awkward little wave. You see the sincerity in his boyish smile, which makes your chest feel tight, as if all the air had been sucked from the room. It’s bad enough for your delicate heart. But then, most wickedly, you catch the adorable, anxious eagerness in his crinkled, watery eyes—and, oh, it really is all over for you, isn’t it?

You really won’t be able to love anyone else, will you? 

There is no “getting over” Chwe Vernon.

The last threads of your resolve crumble as you follow Jihyo. You barely register the steps that lead you back into the grand reception hall. She has a vice grip on your wrist, tugging you along with such urgency that your shoes almost trip you on the way inside. The room hums with energy, and you can’t help but feel out of place in the frenzy of people excitedly whispering and glancing toward the front.

Everyone has gathered in a semi-circle, eager faces all pointed at the bride, who is holding the bouquet high above her head. Your pulse is speeding up by the second, but it’s not for the reason the other single women are likely nervous for. All you can think about is how you’ve been dragged here with nothing but the love you have for Vernon—a deep, endless kind that threatens to burst out of you in a wildly embarrassing public display of affection.

"You're gonna be fine," Jihyo says with a grin, though it’s a little too wide, too bright. You’re not sure if she’s referring to the Vernon fiasco or the bouquet toss, but you force a smile back at her anyway.

"Sure I am," you mumble under your breath. 

She doesn’t hear you, or if she does, she doesn’t acknowledge that she heard it. She’s already turned her attention back to the bride, her arm brushing yours as she steps forward, positioning herself with the other women who are trying to catch the bouquet.

You stand awkwardly behind her at the edge of the crowd of single women, feet shuffling, heart still pounding from your conversation with Vernon.

Then, the live orchestral music shifts, and you feel a slight weight in your stomach, despite knowing the chances of the bouquet toss heading your way is slim to none. Still, it’s happening now, and you’re now on the single ladies floor, so there’s no backing out.

When you shift your back to brush away some of the hair obscuring your vision, you make eye contact with the very man who has been occupying your every thought this evening. Vernon had probably followed you and Jihyo as she pulled you away, since he’s now standing near you. And, oh, he’s close—only an arm’s distance or so away from you, standing at the front of the larger crowd. 

The closer the moment of the throw gets, the harder it is to ignore his burning presence. He’s standing with a group of other men who are watching the floor full of gorgeous, single women, but his attention is entirely on you. 

A subtle smile plays at the corners of his mouth, and the air between the two of you suddenly feels too thick. You have so much to say to him, and you don’t know how to get it all out in an eloquent way. 

But your deliberation of what to say to him is cut short by the screams announcing that the bouquet has launched into the air. 

You lift your chin up, squinting as the light of the chandeliers temporarily blinds you. By the time you blink away the flashing spots in your vision, you see the trajectory of the bouquet. 

It arcs high above the crowd of waiting women, catching the light as it spins toward the back—toward you! If you don’t move, the bouquet will crash into your face. 

Your arms instinctively reach for the flowers, reaching beyond what you’d thought was capable for yourself. But the second after your back stretches and feet jump to accommodate the move, your left heel completely gives out, sending your balance completely off-kilter.

Your arms flail uselessly as your ankle sharply twists, and the world tips sideways. The air rushes past your face, cold and sharp, and you brace yourself for impact—ready to collide utterly gracelessly with the hard floor. But before gravity can win, a pair of strong hands clamps around your waist, arresting your fall with a jarring yet steady pull.

The warmth of his touch spreads like wildfire through the thin fabric of your dress, grounding you in an instant. Vernon’s hands are firm, almost possessive, his grip both steady and urgent, like he’s afraid to let go.

Your chest presses against his, the faint thud of his heartbeat syncing with the chaotic rhythm of your own. His scent hits you next—a subtle mix of cedarwood and something distinctly him, crisp and comforting all at once. The tension in your body melts slightly as his arms secure you closer, your trembling legs finding balance in his hold.

“Hey,” he says, his breath fanning across the shell of your ear. It sends a shiver down your spine, his words calming and electrifying in equal measure.

Your fingers instinctively clutch at the lapels of his jacket, the soft fabric brushing against your palms, anchoring you to reality. His thumb brushes lightly against your side, the touch barely noticeable yet searing, and the warmth from his body radiates into yours like a shield against the world.

Slowly, he adjusts his grip, one hand sliding to the small of your back, the other ghosting against your shoulder as he steadies you on your feet. The gentleness of his movements is stark against the adrenaline roaring in your ears.

When you finally look up, your breath catches. His face is so close—closer than you were when you fell in the bridal suite, closer than you’ve ever been before. Close enough to see the individual strands of his long lashes, to see the beautiful shimmer in his brown eyes. His eyes, wide and searching, lock onto yours, the emotions swirling in their dark depths rendering you speechless.

“I’ve got you,” Vernon says, his voice barely more than a whisper, but the words reverberate through you like an earthquake. “다친데 없어? [You’re not hurt, are you?]”

You shake your head without much thought, the back of your neck and your ears burning up at how tender his touch is. 

His fingers linger at your waist, the subtle pressure of his touch still burning against your skin. Even as he pulls away just enough to give you space, the absence of his warmth feels like a loss you’re not ready to accept. Without thinking, your hand darts out, fingertips brushing against the sleeve covering the charm bracelet you saw during the procession.

And that’s when you notice the bouquet—clutched awkwardly in your other hand, its delicate petals trembling just as much as you are. The flowers are slightly askew from the near disaster, and it all comes crashing down on you. 

You wince at the ridiculous public scene you’ve made, but the smile that spreads across Vernon’s face is enough to make you forget about everything, humiliation be damned.

“Perfect,” he says softly, though you can hear the teasing edge in his voice. “You got it, princess.” 

Princess, the joke he started calling you after Disney movie marathons in which you mocked the main characters always needing men to save them—you were definitely having a princess moment right now.

Vernon reaches to brush a strand of hair out of your face, and you feel your cheeks heat from the decidedly intimate nature of his touch. 

And that’s when the room erupts. 

Cheers fill the space as the guests begin clapping, laughing, and shouting in celebration. You see Chan whistle, while his newlywed wife shouts, “Finally!” The noise surges around you, but you can’t focus on anything except the way Vernon is looking at you.

He’s looking at you like you’re the only one in the room, like you’re the only one he can see.

He’s looking at you in the same way you look at him.

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare past his shoulders to see the waiting eyes of the entire room. It’s as though they’ve known all along, most having been there to see the constant teasing, the not-so-secret glances exchanged, and the tension that’s been building for what feels like ages. Everyone knew before you two did, really.

The realization hits you all at once, and a nervous laugh escapes you. You’re caught in the act—the act of love—and there’s no denying it. 

You exchange an uncertain look with Vernon, and something flickers in his eyes. It’s something deeper, like the three words you told him two days ago, only to be met with silence.

“Looks like it’s fate, huh?” you joke weakly, shaking the bouquet, trying to regain some control over the situation. 

But Vernon doesn’t laugh. His expression just softens, and his voice is so, so deep when he speaks, it’s barely audible over the noise of the guests. “Y’know, you don’t have to joke your way out of this.”

You swallow hard, but before you can respond, he steps closer to you, his gaze unwavering, presence overwhelming. He reaches for your hand, gently pulling it into his, where it fits just so, and the warmth of his touch sends a wave of electricity through you.

“You know I’ve been looking for you, right?” Vernon continues, his voice slightly choked, making your chest tighten. “All day. All day, yesterday and today. I’m so sorry I didn’t say anything that day. It wasn’t because I didn’t care, I do,” he pauses, tightening his grasp on you. “It’s because I care too much, really.”

Your breath hitches. What is he saying? Your brain is practically numb from the excessive overthinking you’ve been doing for the past two days. He needs to just spell it out.

“What?”

Vernon exhales a short laugh, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His hands, buried deep in his coat pockets, tense visibly as his shoulders lift slightly. “I feel like you don’t get it,” he says softly, the words teetering on the edge of vulnerability.

Your heart skips a beat. “Get what?”

He looks at you—really looks at you, staring intensely into your eyes, weighing whether or not to say the next part. His jaw tightens for a brief second, the muscle flexing as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He pulls a hand out of his pocket, raking it through his hair. His fingers linger at the nape of his neck before dropping back to his side, curling loosely as though they’re bracing for impact.

“That I’m here for you,” Vernon says, his voice barely above a whisper. He steps closer, not quite closing the distance but close enough that you can feel the addictive heat radiating off of him. “That I’ve always been here for you. And not…” He clenches and unclenches his fists. “Not just as a friend.”

Your breath hitches, and you feel his gaze flicker to your lips for the briefest moment before darting back to your eyes. His own are wide, filled with uncertainty but also a quiet kind of determination.

He shifts again, this time slipping his other hand out of his pocket and holding it out, palm up, like an offering. His fingers twitch slightly, betraying his nerves, and you notice a faint redness creeping up his neck, the telltale signs of his composure cracking.

“I didn’t say anything sooner because…” His voice trails as he bites the inside of his cheek, eyes dropping to the ground. When he looks up again, his expression is raw and completely unguarded. “Because I didn’t want to mess things up. But I can’t keep telling myself I don’t feel this way. I’m sorry I’m so late.”  

Your chest tightens as his words settle over you, finally registering the weight of them.

“Please don’t get over me,” he says all at once, breathlessly. His eyes are shining, his gaze ever so hopeful.

His hand lingers in the space between you, waiting, hoping.

“Please?”

You stare at his outstretched hand in disbelief, limbs locked by pure shock. Is this real? 

You can feel the effort it’s taking for him to stay still, his thumb twitching every few seconds like he’s fighting the urge to pull away and retreat.

When you don’t immediately respond, Vernon exhales shakily and starts to pull his hand back, his lips parting as if to apologize. 

But before he can, your fingers move instinctively, brushing against his.

The contact is brief, but it’s enough to make him freeze. His eyes snap to yours, widening as if he doesn’t quite believe what just happened. Slowly, hesitantly, his fingers curl around yours, the warmth of his touch steadying you as much as it does him.

“I mean it. I don’t want you to move on, because I love you,” he says shakily. “I’m in love with you, and I don’t know if you still feel that way for me, but… I need you to know how I feel.”

In the depths of his eyes, you see the vulnerability he’s always tried to hide, the intensity of the emotions he’s been holding back for so long.

And it’s as if the whole room vanishes, leaving just the two of you standing there. The bouquet is forgotten, and so are the guests, their cheers having long faded into the background.

Your heart feels as though it’s about to explode from your chest, but the words spill out before you can think. “I love you, too.”

Vernon brightens, eyes lighting up his, his grin stretching from ear to ear, and you fold. He’s handsome and sweet and a little awkward and brilliant—and yours.

Before your next breath, he’s leaning forward, closing the distance between you. 

His lips meet yours in a kiss so soft, so gentle, that you barely feel it at all. Impatient, you eagerly lift your chin up for more of him. Wrapping your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss—oh, is it something to live for. You never want to let go. He tastes like chocolate and feels both firm and tender. He’s a dream come true—your very own prince, if you’re the princess. 

It feels like the world has finally clicked into place. You and Vernon are on the same page, and it’s indescribable, really.

When the roaring in your ears subsides, you hear some wolf whistles, and you suddenly realize where you are. You barely bring yourself to pull a few inches away from him, laughing softly, and he smiles, his eyes sparkling with so, so much warmth and love. It’s all for you. And you realize that here, in his arms, you feel full. You feel so warm, so cared for.

This, this is love. 

Masterlist

Author's Note: he's a bit of a loser in this, but i think he made up for it

Disclaimer: nothing i write is representative of how svt acts off camera, take their names as stand-ins for oc's!!

Taglist: @syluslittlecrows - @junplusone

[riddleswhcre]

he doesn’t make me cry .2

fred weasley, the prat who shattered your heart, corners you in hogsmeade, pouring out a desperate confession that makes your blood boil and your pulse race. you try to resist, but his touch ignites a hunger you can’t smother, leaving you tangled in an alley, half-frozen and wholly his again. terrible idea? absolutely. irresistible? without question.

warnings: MDNI, semi-public smut, rough sex (bending over, possessive fred), heavy angst and emotional tension, minor toxic behaviour (possessiveness, jealousy), mention of cheating implications. you are responsible for your own media consumption.

part 1

more.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

the days following that snowy conversation with fred were a blur. you tried throwing yourself into anything that would keep your mind occupied—classes, quidditch practice, even spending hours listening to elliot drone on about his plans for the summer.

and it was fine. perfectly fine.

except, it wasn’t.

you kept catching glimpses of fred around the castle. in the great hall, in the corridors, even during care of magical creatures when he was supposed to be on the other side of the paddock. and every time your eyes met his, there was something unspoken there—something raw and aching that left you restless long after.

by the time the next hogsmeade weekend rolled around, you were on edge. elliot suggested a day at honeydukes, and you agreed just to avoid the suffocating walls of the castle. but the moment you stepped into the shop, your stomach sank.

fred was there.

he was standing by the fizzing whizzbees display, laughing at something george said. but as soon as he spotted you, his expression shifted. the easy grin disappeared, replaced by something far more complicated.

“alright,” elliot said, oblivious as he led you deeper into the shop. “let’s grab some of those treacle fudge things you like.”

you nodded, barely hearing him. your attention was glued to fred, who hadn’t taken his eyes off you. he looked tired, like he hadn’t slept properly in weeks, and for some reason, that made your chest tighten.

you tried to focus on elliot, who was now debating the merits of various liquorice wands, but the air in the shop felt heavy. oppressive.

“i’ll just be a minute,” you said suddenly, stepping away.

you slipped out of honeydukes before elliot could follow, the cold air a welcome relief against your flushed skin.

“running away now?”

the voice stopped you in your tracks. you turned to see fred leaning against the side of the building, his hands stuffed in his coat pockets.

“i’m not running,” you said, crossing your arms.

“could’ve fooled me.”

his smirk was half-hearted, but the teasing lilt in his voice still made your stomach flip.

“why are you out here?” you asked.

“could ask you the same thing.”

you rolled your eyes, but he stepped closer, his expression softening. “look,” he said, his voice quieter now. “i didn’t mean to corner you or anything. i just... i wanted to talk.”

you hesitated. part of you wanted to tell him to sod off and leave you alone, but the other part—the part that still remembered the way he used to hold you, how he’d kiss your forehead when you were upset—couldn’t seem to walk away.

“alright,” you said finally. “talk.”

fred ran a hand through his hair, his usual confidence faltering. “i’ve been a prat,” he admitted. “i know that. i hurt you, and i don’t blame you for hating me.”

“i don’t hate you,” you said quietly.

he looked at you, surprised, and you sighed. “i’m angry, fred. i’m hurt. but i don’t hate you.”

“right.” he nodded, his breath visible in the cold air. “good. that’s good.”

you waited, but he didn’t say anything else.

“fred, if this is all you’ve got to say—”

“it’s not,” he interrupted, stepping closer. “merlin, it’s not. i just—i don’t know how to say this without sounding like a complete idiot.”

“say what?” you asked, your heart pounding.

“that i miss you,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “that i can’t stop thinking about you, even when i know i should. and it’s driving me mad because i see you with him, and all i can think is... i let you go. i let the best thing in my life walk away, and now i’m stuck watching you be happy with someone else.”

his words hit you like a blizzard, overwhelming and suffocating. you opened your mouth to respond, but he kept going.

“and maybe i don’t deserve another chance. maybe you’re better off without me. but i need you to know that i... that i still love you. that i never stopped.”

the world seemed to tilt, your breath catching in your throat. “fred...”

“i know,” he said quickly, stepping back as if he’d overstepped. “i know you’ve moved on, and i shouldn’t even be saying this. i just—bloody hell, i’m making a mess of this, aren’t i?”

you didn’t answer. you couldn’t. the weight of his confession hung between you, heavy and suffocating.

“tell me to go,” he said finally, his voice raw. “if you’re happy with him, tell me to go, and i’ll leave you alone. i swear.”

your lips parted, but no words came out. the truth was, you weren’t happy. not really. elliot was safe and kind, but he wasn’t fred.

fred, who could make you laugh until your sides hurt. fred, who could infuriate you and comfort you in the same breath. fred, who was looking at you now like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

“i can’t do this,” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes.

“can’t do what?” he asked, his voice trembling.

“this,” you said, gesturing between the two of you. “i can’t keep going in circles with you, fred. it hurts too much.”

he stepped closer, his hand brushing yours. “then don’t,” he said softly. “don’t keep running. stay.”

you looked up at him, your resolve crumbling as he cupped your cheek. his touch was warm, familiar, and it made something inside you shatter.

“this is a terrible idea,” you murmured, your breath hitching as fred’s fingers brushed your cheek.

“probably,” he replied, his voice low and rough. his thumb grazed your bottom lip, lingering for a moment. the chill of the winter air contrasted sharply with the heat radiating between you, and every logical thought you had melted away as his lips captured yours again.

this time, it wasn’t soft or tentative. it was raw, hungry, a collision of pent-up desire and frustration. his hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him as he walked you backwards until your back hit the wall of the alleyway.

“fred—” you started, but the words were swallowed by another kiss, his teeth tugging at your lip before trailing down your jaw.

“merlin, i’ve missed this,” he muttered, his breath hot against your neck. his hands were everywhere—tangling in your hair, sliding down to your hips, gripping you like he was afraid you’d disappear.

you should have stopped him. you knew you should. but the way his mouth moved against your skin, the way his fingers dipped under the hem of your jumper, made your resolve crumble completely.

“inside,” you managed, barely recognising your own voice.

fred pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and blazing with intent. “not a chance. can’t wait that long,” he said, his hands already hiking up your skirt.

the air was cold against your thighs, but the heat of his touch made you forget everything else. his fingers trailed up the inside of your legs, teasing, deliberate.

“you’re soaked,” he murmured, his tone laced with smug satisfaction as his fingers pressed against the damp fabric of your knickers.

“shut up,” you muttered, your cheeks flushing, but the way his lips quirked into a grin made your stomach flip.

he hooked his fingers under the waistband and tugged them down, letting them fall to your ankles. the cool air hit your skin, and you gasped, but fred was already turning you around, pressing your front against the rough stone of the wall.

“been thinking about this for months,” he said, his voice low in your ear as his hands slid up your thighs, spreading them just enough. “about bending you over and making you mine again.”

your heart pounded, your breath catching as he pressed himself against you. you could feel how hard he was through his trousers, and the realisation made your knees weak.

“fred,” you breathed, a shiver running down your spine as his fingers slid between your folds, teasing your clit.

“still so perfect,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “so ready for me.”

he slid two fingers inside you, and you bit back a moan, your hands bracing against the wall. his fingers curled, hitting that spot that made your vision blur, and he chuckled low in his throat.

“missed hearing you like this,” he said, his other hand gripping your hip as his fingers pumped into you. “missed making you fall apart.”

you whimpered, your hips rocking back against his hand, but it wasn’t enough. “fred, please—”

he didn’t need to be told twice. his fingers withdrew, leaving you clenching around nothing, a frustrated whimper escaping your lips.

fred chuckled low behind you, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “so needy,” he murmured, and you heard the sound of his belt unbuckling, the metallic clink making your pulse race. the rustle of fabric followed, then the heat of him pressed against you—just the tip of his cock brushing against your slick folds.

your breath hitched as he dragged himself along your entrance, teasing you, but never pushing in. “fred—”

“what’s that, love?” he asked, his voice thick with amusement. “you sound desperate. want to tell me what you need?”

you groaned, your forehead pressing against the wall in front of you. “i need you to stop messing around and fuck me.”

his hand slid over your hip, gripping firmly as he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. “such a filthy mouth,” he murmured, his teeth grazing your earlobe. “been thinking about this for months, and you want me to rush it?”

“fred—” you started again, but he cut you off, one hand moving to slide between your legs. his fingers parted your folds, gathering your wetness before he pressed the head of his cock against your entrance again, teasing you with shallow thrusts that didn’t go nearly deep enough.

“tell me how much you’ve missed me,” he said, his tone a mix of playful and commanding.

you bit your lip, refusing to give in so easily, but when he thrust just the tip inside and pulled back out, a frustrated moan escaped you.

“say it,” he coaxed, his voice soft but insistent. “say you’ve missed me, and i’ll give you what you need.”

your pride warred with your desperation, but as he repeated the motion—just enough to make you feel the stretch, then leaving you empty again—you cracked.

“fine,” you gasped, your voice trembling. “i’ve missed you, okay? i’ve missed you so much i could scream, you bastard.”

fred’s low laugh vibrated through you, his hands tightening on your hips. “that’s my girl,” he murmured, his tone dark and pleased.

before you could respond, he thrust into you in one smooth motion, stretching you completely, filling you to the hilt. your gasp turned into a moan, your hands scrambling for purchase against the wall as he stayed there, letting you adjust to the sudden fullness.

“fuck,” he groaned, his voice strained. “you feel even better than i remembered.”

“move,” you pleaded, pushing back against him, your body already arching for more.

“greedy,” he teased, but the slight tremor in his voice betrayed his own restraint.

when he pulled back, it was slow, deliberate, almost torturous. but when he slammed back in, his hips snapping forward with a sharp thrust, you cried out, the sound echoing in the alley.

“that’s it,” he murmured, his hand sliding around to your front, his fingers finding your clit. “let me hear you, love. let everyone know who’s making you feel this good.”

“fred,” you gasped, his name tumbling from your lips like a prayer.

“say it again,” he demanded, his voice low and rough as his thrusts quickened, his hips hitting you with just the right amount of force.

“fred,” you moaned, your knees threatening to give out as his fingers rubbed tight circles on your clit, the pleasure building with every movement. “you—you feel so good—”

“yeah?” he said, his breath hot against your neck as he leaned over you, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear. “you like the way i stretch you, don’t you? like the way i fill you up?”

“fuck,” you whimpered, your head falling back against his shoulder.

“that’s what i thought,” he growled, his voice dark with satisfaction. “no one else could fuck you like this. isn’t that right?”

“fred,” you managed, your voice breaking as his pace grew relentless, each thrust hitting deeper, harder, pushing you closer to the edge.

“say it,” he urged, his lips brushing your temple. “say you’re mine.”

“i’m yours,” you gasped, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “i’m yours, fred—always—”

“that’s my girl,” he groaned, his hips snapping into you harder now, his cock hitting that perfect spot that made you see stars. “fuck, i’ve missed this—missed you.”

your nails scraped against the stone wall, your body trembling as the coil in your stomach tightened impossibly. “i’m—fred, i’m so close—”

“i know,” he murmured, his fingers pressing harder against your clit as his thrusts grew erratic. “let go, sweetheart. let me feel you.”

his words sent you over the edge, your climax crashing through you as you cried out his name. your walls clenched around him, and with a low, guttural groan, he followed, spilling inside you as his hips stuttered.

for a moment, neither of you moved, your ragged breaths mingling in the cold air.

finally, fred pulled out, and you shivered as the chill hit you again. he turned you around, his hands cupping your face as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“i’m not letting you go again,” he murmured, his voice still hoarse.

you didn’t have the energy to argue, leaning into him as his arms wrapped around you. maybe it was a terrible idea. but right now, with fred holding you like this, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

[247-diaperboy]

Helpless in diapers

The first thing he noticed was that he couldn’t move.

And then he heard his boyfriend's voice.

“Does this feel familiar?” he taunted.

He tried to speak up, but all that escaped was drool and a garbled noise.

“Aww poor baby, you can’t speak, can you?” His boyfriend's voice was laced with sweetness. But he was feeling anything but sweet at this moment.

He had made a critical error in his thinking. Just the other night his boyfriend had asked him if he had any kinks and he’d said no, deciding now was not the time to reveal his diaper fetish. He was scared that he’d recoil, move backwards or even break up with him.

But it turns out he had asked him because he knew.  

he knew he wanted to be a helpless drooling baby. Wanted to become his plaything. Forced to sit in his bulging diaper until “daddy” came to change him.

“I guess you didn’t think I’d find out did you?” he sat on the bed next to him and patted the front of his bulging diaper. Strangely enough, he hadn’t remembered wetting it. But then he explained it to him.

“Last night I put a pill in your post workout shake. It reduces your body to that of an infant. No control over your legs, arms, anything really.” he continued to pat the front his heavy diaper as he tried to sit up, get any motion in his arms and legs. “The pill lasts 24 hours. And then all function returns. Oh and you can forget about bowel and bladder control.” he giggled.

“When I found out you wanted to be daddies helpless drooling baby, I decided to help you along for a bit. Now you can see what it’s really like.”

He tried to speak. Tried to tell him that this isn’t what he wanted. That it was only a game, a fetish. Something to do for fun. But he couldn’t speak, only drool escaped his mouth.

“Because you wanted this so badly, I put three pills in your drink, so that should give you about three days of fun baby time. Don’t worry, I know this weekend you wanted to hang out with the guys, but I know you’d much rather be doing this instead. So just lie there, I’ll bring you a new bottle every hour. Who knows.” he said grinning before shutting the door. “There might be another pill in there at the end of the weekend. I might want you to be my baby forever…”

The door shut and he gurgled some more. He was trapped…

[midnightanxietytm]

Midnight visit

Author's Notes: I wrote this in one afternoon. It's a bit shitty but oh well. I just wanted to see MC match Caleb's freak and then double it because I know that girl is equally freaky and possessive.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Possessive behavior, mutually unhealthy relationship, self-awareness, mc being a freak, mc uses 'gege' to refer to Caleb once, manipulation.

Sometimes in the dead of night, you wonder if you should feel some sort of guilt over it.

But then morning comes, and there he is; making breakfast, teasing you sweetly, kissing your cheeks tenderly and telling you there’s nothing to worry about, that you two will be together forever and he will never leave you again. 

And when night falls, you wait for him to get home on the living room couch, just to pretend to be asleep by the time he gets home and have him carry you to bed...

When you had first reunited, you commented that he was different and he refuted; “What if I told you I was always like this?” And this got to you. It made you think back to your youth under a different light…

You remember that he’d put your shoes on for you every morning, that he’d walk you to all the way to your classroom, that he wouldn’t let you go out with any boys, even Zayne, unless he was present.

You also remember casually leaving your valentines day cards on the dinner table, pretending to be too sleepy so he’d put on your shoes for you, and flaunting to your colleagues that, yes, the upperclassman who came every day with you was your best friend. 

Maybe neither of you changed that much. Maybe you were both possessive and unhealthy.

“Caleb.” You call him in a whisper that night, after he’s set your ‘sleeping’ form on your bed and was ready to leave your room, acting as if you’d just woken up. 

Immediately, his eyes are on you again, and his smile is back on his lips. You reach out a hand and softly caress his face. “You’ve been coming home so late.” You whine softly. Your fingers tracing the small crease between his eyebrows. “I miss you.” 

You can see the moment your words hit him; his pupils dilate even more, the faint light coming from the windows would no longer be a good excuse for that, his breathing shakes just for a moment. Anyone else would have missed it, but you know Caleb. You know he’s softening.

“I’m sorry, pipsqueak.” He whispers, carefully holding your hand with his gloved one and planting a kiss in your palm. “It will be over soon.” He tries reassuring you, but unfortunately for him, you are spoiled, and you don’t take it well when he denies you things.

You frown and pout up at him. “I know about the professor.” A low blow. He flinches, his eyes widening, but you hold him by the collar and force him to stay right where he was, where he belongs. “You shouldn’t hide those things from me, gege.” An even lower blow. ‘Gege’ is too soft, too meek, it doesn’t match the cold tone that seeps into your voice. “We’ll deal with it together, allright?”

A protest begins to form in his mouth, but you cut it by sliding your hand back to his cheek, thumb softly pressing his lips. “You said we could rebuild our old house, right? We’ll do it, but you have to help me, alright? Let me help you.”

Pushing yourself into a more seated position, your other hand comes up to cradle his face. “How-” He swallows hard. You watch his adam's apple tremble with laser-focused eyes. “How much do you know?”

“Not everything, don’t worry. We’ll deal with it, and once it’s over you’ll never have to leave my side again.” A sickly sweet smile sneaks itself into your lips, your thumbs slowly caressing his lips.

Caleb’s breathing is shaky, his eyes dart across your face, clearly shocked at your sudden possessiveness and demanding attitude. You decide that it’s enough now, and slowly fall back into the comforting innocence and pliancy he’s come to expect of you. “Sleep with me tonight?” you ask.

Caleb shudders on your hands, but nods with a smile after it. “Okay.” He whispers. “I’ll change out of uniform.”

He kisses your palm again, and stands to leave the room.

A/N: Is it really a toxic relationship if they are both toxic? I thought they cancelled each other out! /s /j