#somewhere in my heart I can feel it lol

[insufferablemod]

.

[stormofdefiance]

An incredibly lazy wee doodle of barn swallows since I'm struggling to sleep and going back to my teenage ritual of drawing birds far too late into the night. Where I live, it will soon be time for the swallows to leave and make their bi-annual 8000 mile migration all the way to South Africa. Summer goes with them, and already my late North European nights seem to be turning dark so soon. A couple of months ago the night would just be a muted blue until dawn would crack with a skylark's song at 3am, and from now it will just be a couple of months until the black sets in before the afternoon ends.

It genuinely makes me want to cry thinking about these matchbox sized little beings throwing themselves into that endless blue all in pursuit of airborne insects, those small bodies making their way over the widening, waterless Sahara, that 40 day excursion that, by mid-October, will be over. How long a journey that seems, how short for a being smaller than my hand.

I'll miss them as much as I'll miss the sun until my late-March birthday comes along again and the spring sky is briefly interrupted by their sudden return, their tumbling bodies celebrating the world waking up again, back - somehow, dare I project a sense of sentiment, remembering - to the very same nests they'd left behind just months ago.

[yn6k]

i dont think melt down is supposed to be a sad song but the way i teared up while listening to it anyways

[girl-bateman]

No positive notes for today. I think my left eye got fucked up from crying too much bc it's bleeding. Tomorrow I vow to shower.

[orcelito]

i am certainly exhibiting some Vibes with my current discord setup

it's honestly very descriptive of my current state of mind overall, between the fire emblem and constant trigun lmfao

[coridallasmultipass]

I've been screaming about this for 11 years, thank you.

sorry i love homosexuals

[letbuckfuck]

.

[bratscave]

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ — MY LITTLE PRINCESS !

includes. dilf! logan x 23! shy? reader, very lightly implied daddy issues, sexual content! (car pussy eating lol)

You’ve seen Logan here before, countless times, always in that same corner, nursing his drink in solitude. His age should turn you off, it really should but somehow that just got you more intrested, you had been stern on doing something about said-intrest but your fear of talking and interacting with men, held you back.

Tonight, tonight you were going to do it. You were sure of it. With your heart pounding in your chest, you slide off the barstool, your legs feeling a little shaky as you make your way across the room. Each step feels like it takes you all your power, and by the time you reach his table, you’re sure he can hear your heart beating out of your chest.

You pause for a moment, hesitating, before you finally force yourself to speak, "is the seat taken?" your voice was quiet, shaky even, you silently cursed yourself — you had wanted yourself to sound confident, god damn it.

He turns around with a gaze that was so intense, you were sure he was about to fuck you off to go somewhere else, yet he quietly gestured to the seat next to him. You slide into the seat opposite him, your knees brushing logans under the table.

"You're a bit young to be in a place like this," he murmurs, his voice deep and gravelly, carrying the weight of all the years he’s lived. There’s a teasing edge to his tone, but also a hint of concern, like he’s trying to figure out what a girl like you is doing in a place like this, with a man like him.

You feel a blush creeping up your neck, but you force yourself to hold his gaze. "Maybe I like being around… older men." Well not the older men around you, him though, very much so. "I'm not that young." you add on, it was true - since when were people in their mid twenties considered, young?

A scoff slips past his lips at your response, though it did pique his intrest. His thumb circled around the glass of his whiskey, you were sure that was at least the fourth one he had, "Not that young, huh? Then how old are you, princess?"

You practically feel yourself grow hotter at the nickname, on it's own 'princess' sounds so endearing, so loving — but with his rough tone, it got this different edge to it. "23," you mumble, obediently at his question.

Logan repeats your age, let's it slip from his tongue losely, makes it hang around the dimly light bar and between you.

"I wonder what your parents would think, princess. If only they knew where their little girl was right now, and who she was with."

You'd actually think he was somewhat concearned if it wasn't for the almost mocking tone in his voice, not like he was making fun of you moreover like he just found this situation and how you were behaving amusing.

The blush intensifies at his comment, you hated how you reacted to him, how your body did too; you didn't want to come of as to shy or inexperienced. that was not the case, well somewhat. Your absent father, certaintly wouldn't care - your mother, maybe but who'd tell her? "I'm not a little girl," you're grown god damn it.

His smirk only grew as you got increasingly red. It was cute.

"Oh, really? You look like a little girl to me, princess. All shy and flustered just from sitting at the same table as me. Can't even look me in my eyes."

Logan leaned a little closer to you, his tone almost advising, "You look like you need someone to take care of you, princess. Someone older. More experienced. Do your little boytoys not take care of you right, hm?"

It takes all your will power to not run off into the sunset, burry yourself a hole and think about what he said for the rest of your life. You manage to answer quietly, "you sound like you want to be that 'someone'"

"smart girl," he snickered, satisfied with your reply.

"I'll admit, I've been watching you for a while. You come here all the time and drink all by yourself. All alone. Always sitting at the same spot, watching others."

You can feel yourself get wetter at just his words, he had been observing you? The you, who looked at him countless times, sure he was not looking back or cared at that either.

Sooner then your mother would be proud of, you were in his car. Well- you and him were in his backseat. The car smelled old, looked old too but you didn't have time to make details out as he kept your legs spread for him, rough big hands patting the skin every now and then, to quietly tell you how good you were.

His tongue was way to busy to talk, licking and sucking with a precision that was applaudible. You couldn’t believe this was happening. Just hours ago, you were too shy to even speak to him, and now here you were, half-naked in the backseat of his car, your body squirming around.

He wasn’t gentle — Logan was thorough, relentless, like he had something to prove. And maybe he did, maybe he wanted to show you exactly what you’d been missing, what it was like to be with a man who knew exactly what he was doing. His stubble scratched against your sensitive skin, adding to the rawness of the experience, making it feel more real.

He was so broad, taking up most of the space in that damn backseat and he was hungry. starved, or at least he ate you out like he was.

Logan would make sure that, for the next few days, you’d feel him in every corner of your body. You would ache, throb in all the right places — all because of him.

[fairyysoup]

easy living

pairing: eric (a quiet place: day one) x fem!reader

summary: You ran into Eric on accident. Now you're facing the end of the world together. How do you get to know someone when you can't make a sound?

tags: smut, oral (f receiving), dry humping, piv sex, silent fucking, angst, hurt/comfort, survival, discussions of trauma, slight suicidal ideation by reader, words of affirmation as a love language, stay silent or die (obviously), strangers to lovers, apocalyptic, the cheesiest ending bc it's me writing, billie holiday lyrics bc it's also me writing

a/n: here it is, the silent fucking fic i promised y'all a year ago when this movie was announced. it was supposed to be like 1-2k words of plain smut but then I got too into the theory of what one does when you can't show affection through words and I genuinely discovered a tidbit of trauma I didn't know I had while writing it so I will be talking to a therapist about it, and also I'm literally out here baring my soul lol.

i also want to thank @bigtiddythanos @raraeavesmoriendi and @maximoffwxnda for supporting me throughout this writing process <3 this fic literally would not have been finished or published without y'all

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

The rain has ended. Morose, you stare up at the ceiling, wondering when you’ll get something close to free reign with your voice again. 

Of course the world had to end while you were at fucking Whole Foods.

You’ll miss certain things. Things you always took for granted, that you never even considered made a lot of noise until now. Typing on the computer. Making stir fry. Microwaving a burrito at 3am. Lighting a match, washing your face. Taking a shower.

And other things, too, that are more obvious, like singing while making cookies. Slurping the bottom of a milkshake. You’ll never be able to have a pet bird. You’ll never be able to see another concert again, and damn it if you didn’t really want those Glastonbury tickets a month ago. But it all just seems trivial, now. You don’t see why you shouldn’t just lay here on the couch forever. 

On the other side of the coffee table there’s a gentle shuffling. Eric rouses as quietly as he can; at the very least, your apartment creates a hospitable enough environment that he isn’t startled awake. It’s so silent in the apartment that you can hear the slight shift in his intake of breath, the rustle of the pillow as he turns his head to look at you. 

You want to look at him, but you fear that you’ll end up wanting to talk. So, you say nothing. You do nothing. You stare at the white paint on the ceiling and you wonder whether it would be better to get on one of the boats headed out into the water, or to move inland, away from people, away from sound. There has to be somewhere far enough away from the city that the… creatures won’t go, right?

Eric waves his hand in your periphery, so that you have no choice but to acknowledge that you know he’s awake. You have no choice but to turn your head and look into the depths of his eyes, and feel all the pain of the last 48 hours return to you. You’d been able to talk last night, just enough, in time with the rain and the thunder– enough to learn that he has family across the world. 

You can’t imagine knowing that somewhere, across an ocean and half a world away, your parents may or may not be dead. No way to contact them, no way to know what’s become of them. You can’t even begin to fathom the fear that he’s feeling, as much as you’re despairing. 

Eric’s big eyes tell you everything. Sadness and fear, and trying to grasp at the smallest hint of normalcy he can get. He blinks at you, and mouths, You okay?

No, you’re definitely not okay. Things are not okay. Things are broken and can’t be fixed. Things will never be the same again. He knows that, as much as you know that. But you nod anyway, even though you feel your heart beat a little bit slower than usual, like it wants to just go ahead and give up already. Tears prick at your eyes, and you have to close them before you let on that you’re lying.

Eric knows you’re lying, of course. How could anyone be okay, in this kind of situation? But he waits until you open your eyes, and then he mouths, Coffee?

You let out a small sigh of relief, and a smile that’s indescribably warm crosses your face. Even though he can’t make a sound, he knows exactly what to say.

You don’t have a coffee maker that doesn’t also make a ton of noise. But through some kind of witchcraft, Eric quietly empties two k-cups into a glass measuring cup and boils a soup pot full of water on the stove, and suddenly you have hot coffee in front of you. 

On a notepad left on the counter, you write, Wish I had some tea for you. 

Eric’s lips turn up at the edges, and he takes the pen from you. You’re able to doctor your coffee for about one second before he slides the notepad back to you.

Bloody American.

Your ensuing huff of a laugh is enough to make him turn pink around the ears, and he turns to place the dirty measuring cup into the sink. He reaches for the faucet, but then thinks better of it. You’ll have to figure out how to wash the dishes later.

You both drink your coffee in silence on the couch. You never considered yourself uncomfortable with silence; you’ve lived alone, you’ve gone for weeks without uttering a word before. But it’s so difficult to be sitting next to someone– someone you feel you could really get to like– and not be able to say a word. To make a sound, laugh or cry or snort or grunt. 

You’ll never be able to know what Eric’s laugh sounds like, or listen to his favorite song with him, or watch some stupid rerun of Friends with him while ignoring your responsibilities. He’s right there next to you, he’s risked his life to save you once already, and yet he’s so far away. You’ll never get to know him in all the ways you want to. Will you ever really know him at all?

He’d created a diversion when one of the fucking things had you trapped in a corner, between a dumpster and a brick wall. He chucked a rock at a car and set off an alarm, and then ran with you down an alleyway, his arm wrapped tight around your waist. Eric looked so sad, following you like a lost puppy. He was fucking drenched, too, so you know he’d probably been through one hell of a morning. And then the rain started, and the creatures were confused and… well, you weren’t just gonna leave him, scared and alone.

You, too, were scared and alone.

Eric’s hand appears to brush away a tear that had begun to fall down your cheek, betraying your internal monologue. You look to him with puffy eyes, and he pulls his hand away, suddenly unsure of whether you’re okay with such an intimate gesture. 

Your coffee cup meets the table with a quiet tap. You’re slow to move, but you scoot towards him, his arm still outstretched towards you, his eyes wide. Eric has the prettiest eyes in the world, you think. You want to tell him so.

But you’re a little too choked up to form words, anyways. Your forehead meets Eric’s shoulder, and his arm comes around you before you can huff the first silent sob that brims up. He coos softly into your hair, so softly that you can barely hear it, but it conveys enough. It does enough. 

The world is fucked. Your life is fucked. You have tunnel vision and you can only see things getting worse from here on; the only good thing you know anymore is holding you and caressing your head so gently that it pushes your tears out for you. 

You’ll never get to see a movie in a theater, and smell the stale popcorn again. You’ll never drive down the highway with the wind in your hair. You’ll never ride a roller coaster or sing karaoke. You’ll never go to a club and have a drunken heart to heart with a stranger in a bathroom.

“Do you think it’s worth it?” You whisper, so faintly that it’s barely above a breath, your lips pressed to the shell of his ear. “To try to exist in a world where you have to pretend like you don’t exist?”

Eric pauses, holding you to him. You can see the wheels turning in his head, while he tries to figure out what to say. Then he turns his face to put his lips against your ear, the same way you’d done to him. 

“I think it’s worth it to try to survive.” His breath tickles your skin when he whispers, “So survive with me, yeah?”

You nod solemnly, your tears threatening to rise up again. “I can’t stand not talking to you.” It’s so hard to keep your voice from cracking, from rising above the merest hint of a whisper, directly to him and no one or nothing else. 

Eric takes it in stride. “You are talking to me.” He pulls back and bats his eyelashes, and you think, he oughta fucking know what that does to me. 

“Not like this,” you breathe to him, because that’s really what it is– it’s a breath. A sigh. A gust of air and nothing else, barely anything that registers on your vocal chords. Your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him close to you. His hand, tightening on the middle of your back, holding you there. “I want to talk– I want to get to know you.” 

“Well, this isn’t so bad, is it?” Eric turns his head. His forehead nudges yours at the temple, and you swear you see a flash of a smile on his face. “What do you want to know?” 

His forefinger traces up and down, up and down, a gentle pattern that keeps you grounded. You bite your lip, trying to keep from letting the sounds come out too loud. You say the first thing that comes to mind. “What’s your favorite song?”

“Easy Living. Billie Holiday.” 

“You’re kidding.” You’re blushing, hot in the cheeks. You’re imagining it; slow dancing in the kitchen with him while oldies plays on the radio. You didn’t think such an innocent question would send you spiraling like this, but it hurts worse to know that it will probably never happen.

“Absolutely not.” 

“Somehow… I can’t picture you listening to jazz.” 

“Picture it all you want,” he whispers. Eric swallows, and continues, “My granddad used to have these records, and we used to play them on Christmas. But when– when he died, the records went missing. I couldn’t find the song until a couple years ago,” he explains, and his voice cracks just slightly into a murmur. 

You both freeze. You wait for the sound of creatures coming down the hallway, busting down the walls… nothing happens. You let out a breath, and you pull his face closer to yours. His eyes flick over your face, and you put your lips against his ear. 

“You have to be so quiet. Can you do that for me?” Eric nods in your hands. “I wish we could do anything but this. I wish that we could have met in better circumstances. I wish… I wish I had known you before all of this. I think we would have had a lot of fun. But if this is the only way I can get to know you, and hear your voice now, I’ll take it.” You’re nodding as well now, like you’re trying to convince yourself of it. “I’m telling you this because I don’t know how long we have. Together, I mean. And I don’t want to waste it passing notes. Okay?” 

“Okay.” He sounds clipped. His hand fidgets on your back, and you pull away to find him misty-eyed, his brows turned up. He fishes for words that don’t come, and then he nods. “Okay.” 

Neither of you move. The atmosphere around you feels heavy, like it’s pressing in on all sides. Eric’s hand slides up your back and to your face, and you remember that you’re still holding his. You’re near sitting in his lap with how close you’ve become, and the realization of that feels like a punch to the gut.

You think you should pull away. You don’t. 

Eric’s thumb traces a gentle arc across your bottom lip. It’s so featherlight it’s barely there– his eyes are honed in on your mouth, clearly lost in thought. You’d let him stay there as long as he wants, but you want every minute you can get. “Eric–”

He closes the gap and kisses you. The way you’d said his name– or not said it, rather, you sort of mouthed it against his thumb– had done the job you wanted it to. It feels like this was the obvious conclusion to the system you’d worked out, the close proximity and your shared fears. He’s scared, he said as much last night. You’re scared, you said so just now. 

Nowhere to go, nothing else to do except be right here, living. Alive, together. Kissing Eric, and him pulling you close by the waist, so that you do swing your leg and seat yourself in his lap. And as much as you love talking, and it breaks your heart that you can’t jabber at him, there are some things you just can’t put into words. Like the way that his hand on the back of your neck lights you up inside, or that you can’t think of anything other than all the areas where his skin is touching yours, and how you suddenly wish there was way more of them.

It’s stupid how much you like him already, really. You can feel your nonexistent friends clucking their tongues and shaking their heads, saying, “One day? That’s all it takes? You find some guy at the end of the world and you fall in love in 24 hours?” And they’d be right– maybe it’s not love. Not yet, anyways. But you could see it easily becoming that. And that fact scares you even more.

Your hands find Eric’s chest and the frantic beating of his heart tells you nearly the same thing. You break the kiss, trying to quietly catch your breath without gasping like you’re half-drowning. It’s harder than you expected. 

“Been wanting to do that all morning,” Eric whispers. And just like that you’re falling again, faster this time, like he’s just melted your wings right off and sent you plummeting.

You struggle to keep from gasping aloud when he kisses your jaw, just beneath your ear. It’s the lightest touch but you swear it burns, sears your skin. 

Your hands find the back of the couch, twitchy fingers digging in to keep you steady. Your mouth finds his again, his tongue tasting of coffee, and Eric kisses you a bit harder now, a bit sloppier. 

Breaking away, you open your eyes to find his wide, starstruck, his mouth hanging open like he’s been shocked beyond belief. You didn’t honestly intend for this to happen– you wanted to talk. But somehow this seems better, more appropriate. 

How do you get your feelings across when talking isn’t really an option? When innocent attraction becomes… whatever this is? 

You press a single finger to his plush lips, signaling exactly what you mean without a word. Quiet. 

Eric purses his lips, kisses your finger without breaking eye contact. His pupils are blown out so far that the barest hint of golden brown surrounds them, glinting in the sunlight from the window. 

You lean forward, until your mouth touches his ear. “Your eyes are so fucking pretty, Eric,” you whisper to him, and your teeth latch onto his earlobe to tug gently. You can’t help it– you grind your hips down into his lap, without even thinking of doing it. “You’re so pretty.”

Eric whimpers. It’s a soft sound, hollow in the back of his throat, but it’s still too loud for the world that you’re in. You clamp your hand down over his mouth, and his breath comes out sharp and hot over your knuckles as he tries to regain composure.

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask him, whispering gently in his ear. Against you, he shakes his head no. “Want me to keep going?” Eric nods his head yes. 

He’s shaking under you, his fingertips digging into your lower back like he can’t hold onto you hard enough. At the thought, your pulse pounds, blood positively humming through your veins. 

You nuzzle his cheek, and give him the sweetest kiss you can while your hand is still clamped over his mouth insistently. “You have to be. Fucking. Silent. Do you understand?” He nods. “We can’t make a sound. Okay?” 

Eric nods again, and keeps nodding until you let him go. If the rain was still pouring like earlier, you could tell him how much you want him, too. How you don’t want to be mean, you just don’t want to get hurt. This is a bad idea, all things considered. But Eric slides his hand down and cups your ass to lift you up a bit, and the words bad and idea suddenly fucking vanish from your vocabulary.

You stand long enough to kick off your sweats, your day old panties going down with them. You hadn’t dressed to be sexy yesterday, you dressed to get groceries. You don’t necessarily want Eric to see your faded cotton underwear with the stretched out elastic and multiple frayed holes. You don’t think it would add to your sex appeal right now. 

He doesn’t notice the lack of a strip tease– he’s already taking you by the hips, not even waiting for you to shuck your t-shirt. He pulls until you’re stood in front of him, and then hooks your leg over his shoulder. 

So. Eric doesn’t need to be asked to go down on you, he just does. The gentleman. His hands are firm on your ass as he nuzzles into the patch of hair between your legs, and the precarious balancing act makes you snatch onto the back of the couch again. 

His tongue glides through the folds of your pussy slowly, methodically. You aren’t sure if he wants to take his time, or if he’s going slow so that he doesn’t make too much noise when doing it, but he latches onto your clit and sucks agonizingly softly, like he knows he should do it harder but won’t risk making you moan. 

It’s so gentle, and it builds. Pretty soon, you’re having a tough time keeping your whimpers in, even when he’s basically just teasing you, flicking his tongue over your clit with even the barest pressure. Your head has fallen back on your shoulders, your hand now clasped over your own mouth to stifle your sighs. 

Then, Eric’s hand glides up to splay across your lower back, and he sucks long and hard at your clit, and your hand squeezes murderously at the back of the couch while you ride out your orgasm on his tongue. 

Knees buckling, you collapse into Eric’s lap. He has a doe-eyed look on his face that’s way too innocent after what he just did to you. With panting breath and shaking hands, you cup his rosy cheeks in your palms, shaking your head in disbelief. 

Eric’s brows tilt in worry, like he did something wrong. He opens his mouth, but you put your fingers against his lips to silence him, and lean forward to breathe, “You’re too sweet for me, Eric.” 

He traces his fingers lightly up your spine, and turns his head. “Maybe one day I won’t have to be sweet. Maybe then I can really fuck you.” 

The sound of his whispering voice in your ear makes you shiver, your lust reaching a boiling point. The idea of him really fucking you– that this isn’t even him as normal, that he’s having to hold so much back– makes you burn hot all at once. That this isn’t something he’s planning on doing once. That there’s a ‘one day’ that he sees in the future with you in it. 

With a nod, your breath catches in your throat. You find your way to his mouth again, kissing him desperately. You can taste yourself lingering on his lips, and your hips rock forward against his again. 

Eric inhales sharply, stifling his own moan. You guess you have to take it just as slowly as he did, ease him into it. You work your hand beneath his unbuttoned fly and palm him, keeping your touch gentle against his hot skin. He shakes, his hands laid out against your spine, his eyes sparkling when he looks up at you. 

You push your forehead against his as you sink onto his cock, letting yourself adjust to his size. His breath stutters as he tries to keep quiet, small puffs of air spilling out and meeting your electrified skin. You curl your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, rocking your hips just barely, settling into his lap. 

This is more intimate than you can ever remember being with anyone, but right now it just feels right. Maybe it could be cathartic to fuck like a couple of animals in the face of doom, but Eric pulls your body flush against his, one strong forearm around your waist, and his nose nudges yours, and you think this is better. This is what you both need. Closeness. Sweetness. 

There isn’t a lot of movement– you can’t risk it. You and Eric seem to be in agreement on that, because as soon as you start trying to move in earnest, he just pulls you back to him, his arm around your waist and his hand petting the back of your head. 

Eric rocks his hips up into yours slowly, deeply, and it’s the depth of it and the slow sensuality that keeps you floating. Your clit catches on the patch of hair at the base of his cock each time you roll your hips with him, and you have to kiss him to keep from keening aloud. He doesn’t seem to mind it. 

You know he’s close when he tucks his face against your neck, his arm tightening around you. “Feels so fucking good,” comes his whine in your ear, and you gently shush him, your hand resting on the back of his head to keep him muffled against your shoulder. You want so badly to look at his face when he cums, but there’s that pesky issue of staying alive, and that hinges on whether or not he can keep quiet when he does. 

To his credit, he bites your shoulder and only whimpers a little bit. It’s just a squeak, but really, he could have been much louder about it, and then you would have both been in trouble. Imagine having to run for your life with your pants down. 

Ever the gentleman, he keeps you there even after he’s spent and sensitive, his hand clamped down on your thigh to prevent you from moving. His thumb finds your clit, and he lifts his head to watch you, his hooded eyes trained on your face as he brings you to the edge and over it again. He watches the way your brows tilt up, the way you struggle to keep your own eyes open, and the silent moan that threatens to break past your parted lips.

Eric claps his hand down over your mouth before it can. Your eyes fly open, your cunt clenches down around him, and he bares his teeth as you cum hard. It’s cyclical, comes in waves as he continues to stroke you through it, as he keeps his hand clamped down on your mouth to keep you quiet. 

To keep you quiet. 

Feverish and exhausted, you come down with your chest against his, Eric’s head flopped back onto the backrest of the couch. Your knees fucking hurt and you have yet to get off of him, and you sort of dread the moment when you have to. But this means your mouth is positioned right next to Eric’s ear, and you’re nothing if not a talker.

“Eric?” you whisper, and he turns his head just enough to let you know he heard you. “I’m glad that I met you when I did. Even if it’s terrible timing, I’m glad we met.”

A sweet, tired smile flits across Eric’s beautiful face. He nudges his nose against your temple. “I’m glad, too.” 

You shift off of him, and he squeezes your thigh just at the same time as he scrunches his face. He’s such a trooper about it, you kiss his cheek as you go, leaning over to grab a pair of earphones from the coffee table. 

You hand one ear bud to him, watching as confusion crosses his face. He watches you type on your phone as he tucks the bud into his ear, and you the other. 

On low volume, you listen to the soft piano and saxophone intro to an old jazz standard. Eric grins, his hand finding your cheek before he pulls you in for a kiss. 

And then, Billie Holiday’s voice plays for only you two to hear. 

Living for you is easy living, It’s easy to live when you’re in love And I’m so in love, There’s nothing in life but you.

[empresskylo]

call of duty ೃ⁀➷ NSFW headcanons

↳ includes: ghost, price, soap, and alejandro.

⋆｡°✩ CONTENT WARNINGS | afab!reader, rough sex

cod masterlist | main masterlist

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓

Ghost

♡ ghost has a size kink for sure. loves being bigger/taller than you. loves towering over you. loves covering your whole body when he fucks you.

♡ he’s a growler (-: i mean, his voice is just really deep and that in combo with his accent causes him to make growling-esque noises in bed.

♡ but he was really quite quiet when you first fucked. he was used to having to be silent when he jerked off because teammates were always around somewhere. and so he didn’t even realize how quiet he was being until you said something. he was even a bit shy at first but once you showed him how much his sounds got you off, he was glad to oblige and let loose.

♡ he doesn’t like to “choke” you, but he likes to rest his hand around your neck in a firm hold allowing him to hold you steady so he can fuck you deeper.

♡ he’s rather simple. he likes a few basic positions. it gets the job done. he doesn't see the need for any wild or crazy positions when fucking you missionary, doggy style, or against a wall gets both of you off. he will do new stuff with you if you ask tho.

♡ really likes to praise you. he’s got a praise kink but only for being the praiser lol. he loves to tell you how good you feel, how pretty you look, how well you’re taking him. especially when you react to his words, fuck, he loves knowing he can do that to you.

♡ however, when you praise HIM, he gets all flustered and legit fucking blushes! my guy isn’t used to soft compliments, only ones about his combat skills. so when you say sweet things to him like how good he feels, how hot he looks, how turned on he makes you, how perfect he feels inside you, how badly you want him… he blushes. every. time.

♡ professional pussy eater. he very much enjoys going down on you, usually touching himself simultaneously. he’ll yank you to the end of the bed and wrap his arms around your thighs to hold you down. he likes when you ride his face too. he’s been known to get you off like that and make the two of you late. he moans a lot too when you ride his face. loves when you use him to get off and he can't help but moan at that.

♡ he has fucked you with the handle of his knife before and then made you lick it clean.

♡ gets a perverted sense of gratification when he sees you limping after fucking you senseless.

♡ has a breeding kink. he accidentally let it slip one day when he was fucking you, just about to come, when he moaned out in strained breaths “i need. to fucking. breed you.” (my brain: *414 error*) it doesn’t necessarily mean he wants kids, but he just loves the idea of getting you pregnant/coming inside you/breeding you.

♡ definitely a dom. but can be a sub when need be. he wasn’t sure about being submissive at first, but he’s learned to love it. he likes when you boss him around and tell him what you want. even likes it when you edge him and don’t let him finish, dragging it out painfully. but that’s only occasionally, he usually likes to be the one in control.

♡ comes the hardest when you tell him you love him as you're orgasming. he's a romantic at heart.

Price

♡ daddy kink.. i mean… com’on! he gets flustered as fuck when you call him that in public. usually, you’ll say it quietly or whisper it to him. it’s a rare sight to see Price so flustered. and he definitely punishes you when you get home. (that’s if you even make it home. as long as no one can see, he’ll fuck you anywhere)

♡ wants a video of you for when he’s away. you were shy at first so he just recorded your lower half while he was fucking you, the only thing visible was where your bodies were connecting. but he could hear all your moans in the video and that was plenty for him. he’s watched the video countless times.

♡ keeps a naughty polaroid of you in his wallet

♡ reallyyy likes to go down on you. he would spend the rest of his life between your thighs if he could.

♡ loves to tease you and make you beg. he’ll have you on your knees, begging him to fuck you. and of course that gives the cheeky bastard an aura of arrogance, but it’s hot on him so its ok.

♡ he specifically likes to tease you while you’re training together. watching the way you get flustered and try to ignore his innuendos and subtle hand movements on the more intimate parts of your body. then, when he has you alone, he’ll make it seem like you were the one causing all the distractions. he’ll stay fully clothed and strip you down, fingering you while you stifle your moans. “this why you were distracted today, love? thinkin’ bout my fingers inside of you?” (when, in fact, you were trying to train and he was the one being all cheeky)

♡ over the clothes... he is fond of letting you ride his thigh, both of you fully clothed (that, or you're in underwear and he's fully clothed). sometimes he'll fuck you with everything on, dry humping you so aggressively that you come harder than you ever have. my guy is good at what he does.

♡ quite intense and intimidating when having sex. he's demanding in a way that makes you nervous and embarrassed. always making you say things that make your face heat. "is this want you want, pretty girl? gonna have to say it. unless you want me to stop?" "tell me what you want, love. use your words." "you want me? where? gotta spell it out for me."

Soap

♡ doesn’t love the fact that you might get off to porn when he's not around, so he sends you audios of him jerking off, whining and moaning loudly for you. he gets so turned on when you tell him you got off to his video.

♡ likes to switch between being dominant and submissive. he’ll fuck you hard and fast, make you beg, tell you what to do, and edge you until you’re a crying mess. but he also likes it when you take control, riding him and stopping just as he’s about to finish, making him whine and whimper as you suck his dick, not letting him touch you as you tease him mercilessly, likes when you wrap your hand around his neck as you ride him.

♡ likes when you scratch him up. he wears all the marks you give him proudly and secretly likes being teased by the guys about it. he'll even tell you to be rougher on him. "bite down, love, I can take it."

♡ loves blowjobs. and loves finishing on your face with your tongue out. he finds it so hot when you lick your lips, his cum dripping down your chin.

♡ likes to be slow and gentle with you, dragging it out. he wants to take his time with you. and he'll do whatever you say or want. he's constantly making sure you're doing good or you like what he's doing. Sometimes you end up getting a bit frustrated, "yes, johnny, that feels fucking fantastic, now shut up and fuck me!" "yes, ma'am!"

♡ aftercare involves cleaning you up. taking a shower together. lame jokes. braiding your hair. giving you his sweatshirt to wear. and spooning you.

♡ almost came in his pants the first time he saw you in sexy lingerie that you bought just for his viewing pleasure.

♡ has a slight oral fixation and likes to keep his mouth busy the entire time. he's always kissing or nipping somewhere on you. he loves kissing your neck, jaw, chest, just anywhere really. he often groans into the kisses, making you swallow them.

Alejandro

♡ "if you're a good girl and don't come until i tell you, i'll make you come over and over again"

♡ for some reason, he likes to leave hickeys on your inner thighs, teasing you mercilessly as he kisses you everywhere below your hips except where you need him most.

♡ he lives for teasing. he wants you a withering mess before he even considers giving you what you need. will have you crying because of how bad you want him. those are his favorite tears from you.

♡ he will overstimulate the fuck outta you too. you come at least 3 times every time you fuck. and he'll threaten to keep going, your core throbbing in painful overstimulation, unless you do exactly as he says.

♡ leaves bruises and scratch marks all over you. but he also expects the same in return. both of you look like you got into a gnarly brawl every time you fuck. "jesus christ, were you two fucking in there or wrestling a wild bear?"

♡ he is amazing at aftercare, a big switch up from the dominant, rough sex. he'll clean you up while muttering little praises. he'll carry you to the bathroom, sometimes taking a warm bath with you and washing your hair. he'll get you situated into clean comfy clothes and curl you up into him in bed. whatever you need, he'll do.

♡ likes the thrill of getting caught. he doesn't actually want to get caught, but it's the rush of it all. he's down to fuck anywhere. he's sneaky too and can be really subtle about touching you under the table, or in a dark corner of the bar, or on the roof while you're on watch duty. but he definitely prefers when you can both let loose and be loud.

[theetherealbloom]

Don't Stop Talking To Me, And Maybe Stay Here Forever

Summary: You join Pedro Pascal in Morocco while he’s filming Gladiator 2. Between the beauty of the Moroccan landscape, the two of you share intimate moments, from quiet rooftop dinners to playful photo-taking and teasing with the cast.

Or… “I'll hold you, I'll know you. I'll never leave out the back door. And I'd love to complete you, hope you get all you could ask for.”

I just read your latest pedro fic it was the BEST DAMN THING i’ve ever read, my heart is going to burst out of my chest from all the butterflies 🦋🫠❤️ will you write more for pedro? perhaps his gf could visit him in marocco or something while he’s filming gladiator and to meet everyone from set and maybe have some alone quality time? :3 just a suggestion 😌 anyways have a lovely dayyy ^^ — anon

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, Age-Gap(ish), TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Cheesy Dialogue, Cuddling, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Social Media, Embarrassment, Teasing, Shower, Slight Nudity, Make Out Session, Celebrities

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Okay, so, we’ve all seen the photo dumps!??!! Yes! GREAT! I haven’t watched Gladiator 2 cause it isn’t out yet in my country, so there’ll be no spoilers here mhmhmhmhm. I’m just gonna make stuff up based on the pictures Pedro posted on his Instagram lol. And again, this is all made-up, fictional, self-indulgent vibes so pls no one come after me ahhhhhh T^T

Also lowkey, I can see multiple parts to this so… stay tuned.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Songs: Packing It Up by Gracie Abrams, this is how you fall in love by Jeremy Zucker and Chelsea Cutler

gif by @a7estrellas

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OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO — DAY

The warm Moroccan breeze kissed your skin as you stepped onto the bustling set of Gladiator 2. Pedro’s laughter echoed from somewhere nearby, his distinct voice easy to pick out over the hum of activity. Your heart swelled just hearing it. He was always magnetic, but here—working, immersed in a world of creativity and camaraderie—he was luminous.  

You adjusted your sunglasses, feeling both excited and slightly anxious. Meeting Pedro’s castmates felt like stepping into his other life, one where you weren’t the center of his world but a welcome visitor orbiting it. He’d reassured you endlessly. “They’ll love you. I mean, how could they not?” But still, nerves lingered.  

“Mi amor!” Pedro’s voice cut through your thoughts. He emerged from behind a cluster of tents, his smile so wide it could eclipse the Moroccan sun.  

“Hey, stranger.” You grinned, letting him sweep you into a tight hug.  

He pulled back just enough to press a kiss to your forehead, his arms still firmly around your waist. “You made it,” he whispered, his lips brushing your temple.  

“Of course, I made it,” you teased, tilting your head to look up at him. “I missed you too much to stay away.”  

The day unfolded in bursts of joy.  

Pedro introduced you to Coco Ullrich, Paul Mescal, and the rest of the cast. Everyone was warm and welcoming, their teasing camaraderie quickly drawing you in. Pedro stayed close, his hand finding yours at every opportunity, like he couldn’t stand to be too far away.  

Later, you found yourself perched on a stool in the makeup trailer, Pedro sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of you. “Hold still,” you said, trying to fix his disheveled hair.  

Coco stood nearby, laughing as Pedro playfully swatted at your hands. “I’m serious, guapo! You’ll go out there looking like you just rolled out of bed.”  

“Maybe I did roll out of bed,” he quipped, grinning.  

You raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t, but if you keep squirming, I’m going to make sure you look like it.”  

Coco shook her head, still laughing. “I don’t know how you put up with him.”  

“I have my ways,” you said, giving Pedro a mock glare.  

Pedro leaned closer, his eyes softening. “You’re lucky I love you,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours before you could stop him.  

“Pedro!” you protested, laughing as he pulled you into a full kiss, distracting you from your task.  

“Hopeless,” Coco muttered, snapping a quick photo of the moment.  

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO — SUNSET

The Moroccan sunset painted the sky in hues of gold and rose as you, Pedro, and the cast settled onto the soft blankets laid out for an impromptu picnic. The sprawling desert seemed to stretch infinitely, its serene stillness a striking contrast to the chaotic energy of the set. A light breeze rustled through the palm trees in the distance, carrying the faint sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses.

Pedro sat behind you, his arms comfortably wrapped around your waist as you leaned back into his chest. His fingertips absentmindedly traced small, lazy circles on your bare skin where your shirt had ridden up slightly. It was a touch that grounded you, soothing and sweet, and yet it made your heart ache with affection.

“This is perfect,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it louder might shatter the fragile beauty of the moment.

Pedro leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear. “No, you’re perfect,” he said softly, his voice laced with adoration.

You turned your head to look at him, catching the warmth in his gaze. He looked at you like you hung the very stars above, and your cheeks flushed. “Cheesy,” you teased, though you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

“Honest,” he countered, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. His nose nudged yours affectionately, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you.

Paul Mescal, lounging nearby with a bottle of something cold in his hand, cleared his throat dramatically. “Alright, lovebirds, can you save the smoldering for the cameras? Some of us are trying to enjoy the sunset without third-wheeling your Notebook audition.”

Coco Ullrich snorted from her spot on the blanket, where she was busy assembling a makeshift charcuterie board. “Please, Paul, don’t act like you’re not taking notes for your own love scenes.”

Paul shot her a deadpan look. “What’s there to take notes on? I’m already perfect.”

“Debatable,” Coco quipped, popping a grape into her mouth and grinning.  

Pedro chuckled, his chest rumbling against your back. “Paul, don’t be jealous. You already found someone who tolerates you.”  

“Oh, I’m not jealous,” Paul said, gesturing between you and Pedro. “I’m inspired. The level of clinginess you two have achieved—it’s an art form.”  

“Clinginess?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.  

“Yes, clinginess,” Paul said, smirking. “He hasn’t let go of you since you got here. It’s like watching a koala in human form.”

Coco leaned in conspiratorially. “Do you think he’d survive a day without her?”  

“Doubtful,” Paul replied, his tone grave.  

Pedro shook his head, his arms tightening around you playfully. “Let them joke,” he said into your ear, his voice a low murmur. “They’re just bitter they don’t have their partners to hold them while they complain about the heat.”  

You turned your head slightly to whisper back, “I think they’re projecting.”  

Pedro laughed, loud and unabashed, and the sound sent warmth flooding through you.  

“Alright, enough roasting Pedro,” Coco said, waving her hands. “Let’s focus on the important stuff—like this cheese board I’m absolutely nailing.”

“Coco, you put a block of cheese next to some crackers,” Paul pointed out.  

“And yet, it’s still better than anything you’ve contributed,” she shot back.

You couldn’t help but laugh as they continued to bicker, the dynamic between the cast a perfect blend of teasing and genuine affection. It felt good to be a part of this world for a little while, to see Pedro in his element and to share these small, beautiful moments with the people who meant so much to him.  

As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky with deeper hues of crimson and violet, Pedro shifted slightly behind you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You doing okay, sweetheart?” he asked softly, his voice meant just for you.

“I’m better than okay,” you said, turning your face to his. “This is one of those moments I’ll never forget.”

“Same,” he replied, his eyes searching yours. “But mostly because you’re here.”

Paul groaned from across the blanket. “Seriously, someone hand me a bucket. I can’t handle this level of sap.”

“You’re just missing Gracie,” Coco teased, tossing a cracker at Paul with a sly grin.  

Paul caught it mid-air with a dramatic flourish. “She’s the love of my life, thank you very much. I’m thriving, just long-distance thriving.” His wide smile softened slightly, a dreamy look crossing his face.  

Pedro chuckled, resting his chin on your shoulder as he held you closer. “See, even Paul can be romantic. It’s not just us being disgustingly in love.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Paul said, waving him off, though the grin never left his face. “But you two are setting the bar impossibly high. Stop making the rest of us look bad.”

Coco shook her head with mock exasperation. “Let’s face it, no one can compete with Pedro’s clingy koala act.”  

“Hey, it’s not clingy if it’s mutual,” you chimed in, leaning back into Pedro’s embrace.  

“Exactly!” Pedro said, kissing the side of your neck for emphasis. “This is just... efficient affection.”  

“Efficient affection?” Coco repeated, laughing so hard she nearly knocked over the cheese board. “That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Pedro shrugged, utterly unbothered, his lips brushing your temple as he murmured, “Don’t let them ruin this for us.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you whispered back, tilting your head to press a soft kiss to his jaw.  

The first stars began to dot the darkening sky, their glow faint but steady against the fading hues of gold and rose. The laughter of the group blended with the soothing whisper of the desert breeze, wrapping the evening in a cocoon of warmth and love.

You let out a contented sigh, your fingers intertwining with Pedro’s. These moments—filled with jokes, tenderness, and the quiet magic of a Moroccan sunset—were the kind you knew you’d carry with you forever.

THE NEXT DAY

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO – AFTERNOON  

The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting warm golden light over the sprawling desert set. The faint hum of activity outside the large tent provided a calming backdrop as you and Pedro sat together, stealing a moment away from the chaos of production.  

Pedro’s lap had become your designated resting place, his arms wrapped snugly around your waist as you leaned into him. You had been quietly chatting about the day—how stunning the desert looked on camera, how Paul had stolen one of Coco’s snacks during a break—when the warmth of the afternoon began to lull you both into sleep.  

His hand moved lazily up and down your back, the motion soothing as his voice grew quieter, more relaxed. “You know,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple, “this might be my favorite part of the day.”  

“Falling asleep during work?” you teased, your voice soft and playful.  

“Falling asleep with you,” he corrected, his smile audible in his words.  

It wasn’t long before exhaustion claimed you both, your head tucked under his chin and his cheek resting against your hair. The quiet hum of the tent became a comforting cocoon, and time seemed to stretch and blur.  

The sound of muffled laughter stirred you from sleep, pulling you out of the warm haze. You blinked against the light, realizing you were still tucked into Pedro’s chest, his arms holding you close even as he began to wake.  

“Don’t move,” a familiar voice called. You turned your head to see Paul Mescal standing a few feet away, phone in hand, his grin wide and mischievous.  

Next to him, Coco Ullrich smirked as she aimed her phone at the two of you. “We’re documenting history here. You’ll thank us later.”  

Pedro stirred, squinting at them through his grogginess. “Seriously?” His voice was raspy, a mix of sleep and disbelief.  

Paul shrugged, grinning even wider as he showed Pedro the photo. “We couldn’t resist. Look at this. It’s like a promo poster for the most annoyingly sweet rom-com ever.”  

Pedro glanced at the photo, then at you, and laughed softly. “We should use that for the holiday cards this year.”  

You groaned, burying your face in his chest. “This is so embarrassing. They’re never going to let us live this down.”  

Coco laughed, flipping through her photos. “Oh, it’s way too late for that. I’m sending this to the group chat and the PR team. They’ll love it.”  

“Please don’t,” you pleaded, your voice muffled against Pedro’s shirt.  

Paul tilted his head dramatically. “Why not? It’s just a little fun. Besides, you two are giving us all cavities with how sweet you are. We’re suffering.”  

Pedro smirked, holding you a little tighter. “You’re suffering? Sounds like a personal problem.”  

“Alright, alright, enough!” A gravelly voice interrupted, and you looked up to see Ridley Scott standing at the edge of the tent. His hands were on his hips, but the amused twinkle in his eye gave him away.  

“Ridley,” you started, your cheeks flushing with heat. “I’m so sorry—”  

He held up a hand to stop you, his smirk growing. “Don’t apologize. If anything, I should thank you. Pedro’s been suspiciously well-behaved since you arrived. But,” he added with a pointed glance at Pedro, “if this keeps up, we’ll have to rename the film The Gladiator and the Muse. Production’s going to take twice as long.”  

The crew burst into laughter, and you buried your face back in Pedro’s chest, groaning. “This is officially the most embarrassing moment of my life.”  

Pedro chuckled, his hand brushing gently over your back. “Embarrassing? Nah. You’re the best thing about being here.”  

You peeked up at him, your cheeks still warm, and saw the sincerity in his eyes. “You mean that?”  

“Every word,” he said, his voice soft. “You make everything easier, better… you make it all worth it.”  

Your heart swelled, and a small smile broke through your embarrassment. “Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll try to believe you.”  

“Believe me,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.  

Paul groaned, breaking the tender moment. “Someone get a camera crew. We’re turning this into a reality show. Lovebirds in the Desert.”  

Pedro laughed, finally standing and pulling you to your feet. “Careful, Paul. You might not survive the sequel.”  

Ridley clapped his hands, his voice carrying over the lingering laughter. “Alright, lovebirds, enough stalling. Let’s get back to work! Pedro, we’ve got a fight scene to shoot.”  

Pedro gave you one last reassuring smile before winking. “Don’t go far. I’ll need more luck soon.”  

You nodded, watching him head back to set, and felt a sense of warmth that no amount of teasing could dampen. As you stepped out of the tent, the desert sun shining overhead, you knew this moment—this strange, beautiful mix of chaos and love—was one you’d carry with you forever.

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO – EVENING  

The rooftop restaurant was like something out of a dream. Lanterns hung delicately from wrought iron fixtures, casting warm, flickering light over the table as the sun dipped below the horizon. The air was cool but pleasant, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from a nearby garden. Below, the city of Marrakech stretched out in an intricate maze of rooftops and twinkling lights, the hum of life soft and distant.  

Pedro had arranged everything, from the secluded corner table to the small vase of your favorite flowers waiting when you arrived. He always had a way of making even the simplest moments feel like magic.  

“Look at this view,” you murmured, leaning against the wrought iron railing as the sky turned from gold to a deep, dusky pink.  

Pedro stood close behind you, his hand resting gently on the small of your back. “The view’s got nothing on you,” he said softly, the teasing lilt in his voice balanced by the sincerity in his eyes.  

You laughed, shaking your head as you turned to face him. “That’s a terrible line.”  

“Maybe,” he admitted, grinning as he pulled out his phone. “But it’s true. Hold still.”  

Before you could protest, he snapped a photo, catching you mid-laugh as you tried to dodge the camera. “Pedro!” you groaned, your cheeks warming.  

He chuckled, looking at the photo with a self-satisfied smile. “Perfect. Might frame this one.”  

“Stop it,” you said, trying to grab the phone from him, but he held it out of reach, his grin only widening.  

“Never,” he replied, his free hand reaching across the table to take yours. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, and his gaze softened. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”  

Your stomach fluttered at the way he said it—no teasing this time, just quiet, earnest affection.  

“Now you’re just being unfair,” you muttered, trying to hide your blush.  

Pedro leaned forward, his head tilting slightly as if to study you closer. “Not unfair. Just honest.”  

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your heart was pounding. In a bid to regain some ground, you grabbed your own phone and quickly snapped a picture of him just as he brought your hand to his lips. The resulting photo was unfairly good—his lashes long, the lantern light catching the gold in his eyes, the softness in his expression making your chest ache.  

“Got you,” you said triumphantly, holding up the phone.  

Pedro laughed, his thumb brushing over your knuckles again as he met your gaze. “Now we’re even?”  

“Now we’re even,” you confirmed, though your grin gave away how smug you felt.  

The waiter arrived with dessert just then—a delicate plate of Moroccan pastries accompanied by a small bowl of honey and almonds. You both leaned forward at the same time, reaching for the same pastry, and burst into laughter when your fingers brushed.  

“Go ahead,” Pedro said, gesturing gallantly.  

“Such a gentleman,” you teased, breaking off a piece of the pastry and dipping it into the honey. You held it up to his lips, your pulse skipping when he leaned in without hesitation.  

“Delicious,” he said, his voice low and warm. “But I think it tastes better coming from you.”  

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, trying to suppress a smile as you took a bite yourself. The flaky pastry melted on your tongue, its sweetness perfectly balanced by the honey.  

As you shared the dessert, your conversation drifted from playful teasing to the little things that filled your days. Pedro told you about a funny moment on set earlier when Paul had forgotten his lines and improvised something so absurd even Ridley couldn’t stop laughing.  

“And then,” Pedro continued, his grin infectious, “he tried to blame me, saying my face was too distracting.”  

“Well, he’s not wrong,” you teased, earning a dramatic roll of Pedro’s eyes.  

“Oh, so now you’re on his side?”  

“I’m on the side of the truth,” you said, popping an almond into your mouth.  

Pedro chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”  

Your smile softened, and you leaned your chin on your hand as you looked at him. “Probably still charming everyone who crosses your path.”  

“Not like this,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. He reached across the table again, his fingers lacing with yours. “You make everything better. You make me better.”  

Your throat tightened at the rawness in his voice, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, his words settling deep in your chest.  

“You do the same for me,” you said quietly.  

The soft music playing in the background faded into the hum of the city as the two of you sat there, the world narrowing to just this moment. Pedro brought your hand to his lips again, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before resting your joined hands on the table.  

As the night stretched on, the two of you continued to talk about everything and nothing—your favorite childhood memories, the places you wanted to visit together, the little quirks you loved about each other.  

When it was time to leave, Pedro stood and extended a hand to help you up. “One last picture before we go?” he asked, his phone already in hand.  

You nodded, letting him pull you into his side. The lanterns glowed softly behind you as he kissed your cheek just as the camera clicked.  

Looking at the photo, you smiled. It was perfect—just like this night, just like him. 

L’HÔTEL MARRAKECH, MOROCCO – EVENING

The golden hues of the evening sun had long faded, leaving the hotel suite illuminated only by the soft glow of warm, ambient lighting. Laughter filled the room, bubbling up between stolen glances and playful teasing. Pedro leaned against the edge of the plush sofa, his hand resting casually on his hip as you doubled over with giggles at another one of his overly dramatic impressions. 

“I’m just saying,” he said with a grin, holding up his hands in mock innocence. “If anyone here is getting an Oscar for Most Entertaining Human, it’s me.”

You rolled your eyes, swatting at him lightly. “You? Entertaining? Please. You’re just lucky I think you’re cute.”

“Just cute?” he teased, his voice dropping into a low, mock-hurt murmur. He stepped closer, tilting his head. “That’s disappointing.”

And just like that, with no warning, he took your hand and spun you gently into his arms. There was no music, no sound but the faint rustle of the curtains and the muted hum of life outside your window. But to Pedro, there was no need for anything more. 

“Dance with me,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, pulling you flush against him.

“Pedro,” you started to protest, but the way he was looking at you—so earnest, so unguarded—stole the words from your lips. He rested his forehead against yours, his arms wrapping around you like he was afraid to let go. 

“You are the reason I can breathe,” he murmured. His voice cracked slightly, raw and unfiltered. “The reason I can survive.”

Your chest tightened, and your hands gripped the soft cotton of his shirt as you closed your eyes. Slowly, the two of you began to sway, side to side, as if the universe itself had orchestrated this silent melody just for you.

“Pedro,” you whispered, tears threatening to spill as the weight of his words sank deep into your soul. “You don’t have to—”

“Shh.” He cut you off gently, his lips brushing the crown of your head. “I want to. You’re my safe place.”

Together, you moved as one, the world outside forgotten. The phones were switched off, the curtains drawn, and for a moment, it felt like time had ceased to exist. All that mattered was this—his arms around you, your head resting on his chest, and the way his heartbeat felt steady and strong beneath your cheek.

“What’s easy is right,” you whispered suddenly, echoing words your mother had once said. The truth of it struck you in that moment, how being with Pedro never felt like a choice—it was instinct. Like breathing. Like coming home. 

Pedro smiled, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “What’s easy is right,” he repeated softly. “Then I guess it’s easy to know... I’m going to love you forever.”

You laughed softly, though the lump in your throat made it difficult. “Forever’s a long time.”

He tilted your chin up, his warm, brown eyes crinkling at the corners with a quiet joy. “Not nearly long enough,” he said, his voice a low promise. “You’ll be my best friend until we’re old and gray. And even then, I’ll still love you.”

There was something in the way he said it—so simple, so sure—that your knees nearly gave out. But as always, Pedro was there, holding you steady, keeping you close. 

This is how you fall in love, you realized. Not in a blaze of fireworks, but in the quiet moments where you let go and they hold you up. 

“Do you know what you’ve done to me?” Pedro said after a long silence, his voice filled with wonder. “You make my stomach ache with hope. You make my hands stop shaking. I wake up smiling now, and it’s because of you.”

You bit your lip, your fingers tracing lazy patterns across his chest. “Pedro…”

“No, listen to me,” he insisted, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Love isn’t supposed to be heavy. It’s not supposed to hurt. It’s supposed to be this. Us. A safe place. A hand to hold through every storm.”

His words broke something open inside you, and you nodded, letting the tears spill over. “You’re my safe place too,” you whispered. “You make me believe I deserve this.”

Pedro pulled you closer, resting his chin on the top of your head as he swayed you gently. “You deserve everything,” he murmured. “Every laugh, every sunrise, every stupid little joke I’ll tell for the next fifty years.”

You both laughed softly, the sound mingling with the quiet hum of the room. The world outside could wait. For now, all that mattered was this moment—this love that was soft, steady, and unshakable.

Right from your hips to your cuticles, you were everything to him, and he was everything to you. Wherever you both went, it was heaven. And neither of you ever wanted to leave. 

Steam filled the bathroom, the warmth clinging to the mirrors and wrapping around the two of you like a soft cocoon. Pedro stood under the cascade of water, droplets running down his broad shoulders and soaking his messy curls. His eyes flicked toward you, a tender smile tugging at his lips as you stepped closer, your fingers gently reaching for the shampoo bottle.  

“Turn around,” you said softly, motioning for him to face away from you.  

“Yes, ma’am,” he teased, though there was a hint of shyness in his voice as he obeyed.  

You lathered the shampoo between your hands, your touch careful and affectionate as you worked it into his hair. His curls were soft and damp beneath your fingers, the grays glinting like silver in the dim light.  

“I love your hair,” you murmured, your voice reverent.  

Pedro let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle, tilting his head back slightly. “The gray makes me look old.”  

You paused, your hands stilling in his hair as you leaned around to catch his gaze. “Stop that. It doesn’t make you look old; it makes you look distinguished. And I happen to love every single one of these.” You tugged playfully at a curl for emphasis.  

He gave you a sheepish look, his lips twitching as he fought back a pout. “You’re just saying that because you’re stuck with me.”  

“Stuck with you?” you repeated, feigning outrage. “Oh, no, Pedro. I chose you—gray hair and all. And I’d choose you again. Every single day.”  

His pout softened into a smile, one so genuine it made your chest ache. “You’re too good to me,” he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple.  

“And you deserve it,” you countered firmly, finishing his hair with a rinse.  

When it was your turn, Pedro insisted on returning the favor, his hands gentle as he massaged the conditioner into your hair. His touch lingered, his fingers tracing the nape of your neck as he marveled at you.  

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with sincerity.  

“Even covered in soap?” you teased, feeling heat creep up your cheeks.  

“Especially covered in soap,” he replied, leaning down to steal a kiss.  

The shower ended with a flurry of soft laughter and playful splashes, the two of you wrapped in towels as you padded into the bedroom. Pedro pulled on a pair of boxers while you slipped into one of his oversized shirts, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs.  

The two of you slipped into bed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm, golden light over the room. The air smelled faintly of the lavender lotion you’d rubbed on your hands, mingling with the subtle hint of Pedro’s cologne that still lingered on his skin. He had one arm draped lazily over your waist, his other hand holding a book he’d claimed to be interested in, though his wandering eyes betrayed him.

A book rested in your lap, too, but you’d long given up on reading. Instead, you could feel his gaze flickering to you, watching you more than the words on his page. It was endearing, the way he thought you wouldn’t notice, how he never grew tired of studying you like he’d never quite figure you out.  

“You’re not reading,” you finally accused, peeking at him over the edge of your book.  

Pedro grinned, unabashed. He set his book down on the nightstand and scooted closer, leaning his head on the pillow beside you. “Can you blame me?” he said, his voice soft and teasing. His hand reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckles grazing your cheek. “I’ve got the most beautiful view right here.”  

You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the warmth rising in your cheeks, but the smile that stretched across your lips betrayed you. “You’re ridiculous,” you murmured, nudging him lightly with your elbow.  

“And yet, you love me,” he replied with mock arrogance, leaning back against the headboard with a self-satisfied smirk.  

“Unfortunately for me,” you quipped, though your tone was dripping with affection.  

Pedro’s laugh filled the room, low and warm, wrapping around you like a blanket. You settled back into your spot, his arm tightening slightly around your waist, anchoring you to him. For a while, there was only the sound of pages turning and the occasional creak of the bed as one of you shifted.  

Eventually, the books were forgotten, abandoned on the nightstand as the room grew darker, the soft click of the lamp switch plunging you into the comforting glow of moonlight spilling through the curtains.  

Lying side by side, your head resting on Pedro’s chest, you let your fingers trace lazy patterns along the bare skin of his arm. But your mind wouldn’t quiet, and as the minutes stretched on, the thoughts bubbling inside you demanded to be voiced.  

“Okay, but really,” you began, your voice breaking the comfortable silence. “Why is ‘llama’ spelled with two L’s? Wouldn’t one be enough? It’s not like we say ‘Llama-la.’”  

Pedro let out a soft laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest beneath your cheek. He tilted his head down to look at you, his lips quirking into a smile. “Mi amor, I adore you, but it’s almost midnight. Go to sleep.”  

“I can’t until I solve this mystery,” you said with mock determination, lifting your head to look at him.  

He sighed dramatically, feigning exasperation. “Fine. Maybe the second ‘L’ is there to confuse aliens.”  

You gasped, sitting up slightly. “That makes so much sense! Like, imagine aliens judging us for eating cereal with milk.”  

Pedro chuckled again, his arm tightening around you to keep you close. “Cereal with milk is sacred,” he said, his voice heavy with playful conviction. “If aliens have an issue with that, I’ll fight them myself.”  

You grinned, turning to prop yourself up on your elbow so you could face him fully. “Okay, serious question. If you could ask someone anything and be guaranteed the truth, who would it be?”  

Pedro cracked one eye open, his other hand lazily resting on your hip. “I’d ask you why you’re so determined to keep me awake,” he deadpanned, his lips twitching with a suppressed smile.  

You laughed, nudging him with your elbow. “I’m serious!”  

“Alright, alright,” he relented, the mirth in his eyes softening as he considered your question. “I’d ask my third-grade teacher if she really lost my homework or if she just didn’t like me.”  

You burst out laughing, the sound muffled by the way you buried your face into his chest. “That’s what you’d waste your question on?”  

“Don’t judge me,” he said with mock indignation, his fingers trailing absent patterns on your back. “It’s haunted me for years.”  

Your laughter subsided into a warm giggle as you tilted your head up to look at him. “Fine. My turn. I’d ask my mom if she’s proud of me. Like… really proud. Not just the ‘I’m your mom, so I have to say it’ kind of proud.”  

Pedro’s hand stilled on your back, his gaze softening as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “She’s proud of you, baby,” he murmured against your skin. “And so am I. Always.”  

The weight of his words wrapped around your heart, a comforting balm that eased the ache of self-doubt. You nuzzled closer, your fingers curling around his as you let the quiet stretch between you for a moment.  

Moments later, you broke the silence again, your voice a whisper in the dark. “When I was little, I thought my toys came alive when I wasn’t looking. Like Toy Story. Honestly, I still kinda think they do.”  

Pedro let out a deep laugh, his chest shaking beneath you as he pulled you even closer. “I wouldn’t put it past them,” he said, his voice warm with amusement. “Your stuffed bunny? Definitely a troublemaker.”  

You giggled, your heart feeling impossibly light as his hand returned to its slow, soothing patterns on your back.  

The conversation drifted into comfortable nonsense, the kind of midnight musings that didn’t need to make sense but brought a certain kind of intimacy only shared in the quiet hours of the night.  

Finally, as your eyelids grew heavy and your words faded into murmurs, Pedro pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. “Goodnight, mi amor,” he whispered, his voice soft and steady.  

In his arms, with the world outside forgotten, you felt safe. Loved. His heartbeat was the only rhythm you needed as you drifted into sleep, a love like no other holding you steady through the night.

[inkedinshadows]

Unraveling Truths

This is a bonus scene for my miniseries "A Helping Hand". You can read part 1 of 3 here. I know I wrote it in August, but I got a few requests for more so here we are.

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

Summary: Azriel finally explains to his mate what the wingspan business is all about.

Warnings: smut, oral (m receiving), written in 3rd POV (matching the rest of the series)

Word count: 2.6k

A/N: I love time zones because it’s 2am here but it’s still the 16th in the US so I’m technically not late :) This fic is just another proof that I can't write drabbles lol. Anyway, hank you @azrielsshadows42 for the inspo 🫶🏻 and thank you @azrielappreciationweek it was so much fun writing for this event 💙💙

“You still haven't told me.”

She watched him from his bed, the sight still so new that Azriel's heartbeat quickened each time he saw it.

For the past week, she had spent every night with him, usually in his room. Yet walking in to find her reading a book while she waited for him was something he was still getting used to. And something he would never take for granted.

Azriel sat on the edge of the bed, leaning closer to brush a kiss to her temple as she set the book down. “Told you what, beautiful?”

The corner of his lips curled up at the small blush that colored her cheeks, even after a week of hearing that nickname. He was never going to stop using it.

He began to take off his boots, holding his breath as she knelt behind him and unfastened the latches of his shirt. Her fingers brushed the base of his wings, and he had to muster all his self-control to keep his body from reacting.

“About wingspan,” she replied casually. “You still haven't explained it.”

He froze, sitting a bit straighter. “Why do you want to know?”

She undid the last latch, and though the shirt now hung loosely around his torso, he made no move to remove it.

“Because I want to know all about you.” She moved to sit beside him, seemingly unaware of his slight change in demeanor. “And because you said you'd explain, but you still haven't.”

Azriel swallowed thickly. He'd been happy to hold her in his arms every night, knowing she'd be the first thing he saw in the morning. His hands had never wandered too freely over her body. He wanted to take things slow with her, not only to respect the trauma she had endured, but also because she wasn't just another girl. She was his mate, and he'd be damned if he ruined things by rushing them.

But he couldn't deny he had thought about how she would feel. How she would taste. How she would look while he pleasured her.

Her question about wingspan certainly didn’t help.

And if she was bringing it up again after a week, her curiosity wasn’t likely to fade anytime soon.

“Alright,” he finally said, and she rewarded him with that beautiful smile of hers—the one that never failed to make his heart skip a beat. “Rumor has it that the span of an Illyrian’s wings reflects the size of… certain body parts.”

She frowned, a small crease appearing on her brow. He resisted the urge to smooth it away with his thumb.

“What body parts?” she asked, her gaze wandering up and down his body as if she could see the answer somewhere.

He was glad she wasn’t looking at his face when he replied, “Intimate body parts, Y/N.”

Her eyes shot up to meet his, wide with surprise and shock. A faint blush colored her cheeks as she looked down again. Straight at his crotch.

Azriel had to draw on five hundred years of composure to keep himself from shifting—and, more importantly, from hardening under her gaze. She’s just surprised, he told himself. That’s why she’s looking. Nothing more.

When she met his eyes again, her voice was quiet, as though she was too shy to ask but couldn’t help herself.

“And, uh…” She paused, clearing her throat before finishing. “Are those just rumors?”

The words slipped out before he could think. “No. It’s true.”

She studied him for a moment, and he feared he’d said too much and made her uncomfortable. But before he could apologize, she spoke again.

“Does Cassian really have the largest wingspan?”

He couldn’t stop the smirk that spread across his lips. “He likes to brag about it, but no, he doesn’t.” And though he knew he probably shouldn’t, he added, “I do.”

Her eyes widened, dropping to his crotch again. This time, his body reacted before he could stop it, and he felt himself beginning to harden in his pants. Her cheeks flushed an ever deeper shade of red.

“Hey, it's alright,” he murmured, tilting her chin up so she would look at him. “I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

To his surprise, she gave him a soft smile. “You didn't. I asked. It's just…” Her voice trailed off, and she looked away for a moment before returning her focus to him.

“I just don't have much experience,” she whispered.

Azriel needed to change the topic immediately before his mind began running wild, thinking of all the things he could show her, all the sensations he could make her feel, all the possibilities. He reeled in his thoughts.

Sliding an arm around her waist, he pulled her closer. “It's alright,” he repeated, pressing another kiss to her temple. “We don't have to do anything. I don't want you to feel pressured.”

“But what if…” She hesitated, but as she bit her lip, she placed her hand on his leg, just above his knee but close enough for Azriel to be acutely aware of every small movement of her fingers. He was caught in a suspended moment, where everything hinged on her next words.

“What if I want to do something?”

His heart pounded in his chest. “You… want to?”

Despite the blush still coloring her cheeks, she held his gaze and nodded, a shy smile playing on her lips. He struggled not to kiss her right then and there and let his hands explore every inch of her body.

“Tell me what you want, beautiful,” he said instead, keeping his voice quiet and steady. “Anything you want, you can have it.”

She looked down, her gaze landing on the erection he could no longer hide. “I want to help you with that,” she murmured, her hand sliding up to his thigh and squeezing gently.

Azriel sucked in a breath. Unable to stop himself, he shifted, spreading his legs slightly to bring her hand closer to where he wanted it.

“Are you sure?” he asked. He needed her, desperately, but he didn’t want her to feel obligated.

Instead of answering, she stepped off the bed. Her eyes never left his as she moved between his parted legs, her fingers reaching for his shirt. He didn't stop her as she tugged it off, revealing his tanned chest.

“I'm sure, Az,” she whispered, her finger tracing the swirling lines of his tattoos. She'd done it many times before, but now it felt more intimate, more intentional. “Let me do this for you.”

He couldn't hold back any longer. Not when she looked at him with rosy cheeks and eyes full of desire. They both wanted this, and he wasn’t going to turn her down.

Cupping her face in his hands, Azriel pulled her in for a kiss. As their lips met, the bond between them came to life, glowing bright and golden in his chest and filling him with warmth that had nothing to do with the heat of his growing arousal.

“Go on, then,” he murmured against her lips when he finally found the will to break the kiss. “You can do whatever you like.”

She smiled, and under Azriel's attentive gaze, she knelt between his legs. From where he sat, the neckline of her nightgown left little to the imagination. He swallowed, his breath catching as she began unbuttoning his pants. He lifted his hips just enough for her to slide them down his legs, along with his underwear, leaving him bare before her. Her eyes widened slightly as the took him in.

“You weren't lying about it,” she murmured, glancing up at him. “I didn't expect you to be… this big.”

His smirk turned smug. “You certainly know how to flatter a male's ego.”

She chuckled, averting her gaze for only a moment before reaching out. Her hand wrapped around his aching cock, making him gasp audibly. At the sound, a smile of delight appeared on her face, and she began to stroke him slowly, her movements gentle and exploratory.

His eyes locked with hers, and, encouraged by the connection, she grew bolder. Her grip tightened slightly, and he instinctively bucked his hips forward. Still, he held back as much as he could, letting her set the pace she was most comfortable with. But she leaned closer, her eyes searching his for permission, a silent question lingering in them.

Azriel brushed her cheek, his thumb tracing her bottom lip. “Whatever you like,” he repeated in a whisper.

She nodded, and as his hand slipped away, she leaned in, her tongue flicking out to run along his cock before her lips closed around his tip. He sucked in a breath, resisting the urge to push himself deeper into her mouth and holding his body still. The only sign of his impatience was the faint rustle of his wings behind him.

She continued to stroke him slowly, teasing him with gentle squeezes and soft touches, her tongue swirling around his head until precum leaked out. But with each of his sighs and the small, involuntary twitches of his hips, her confidence grew. She took him a few inches deeper, hesitating briefly sliding before her lips farther down his cock, stretching her jaw to fit as much of him as she could.

“Fuck…” he groaned, the word escaping his lips as she hollowed her cheeks. Her mouth was warm, wet and impossibly tight, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to thrust into her. Instead, he tangled his fingers in her hair—not to guide her, but to ground himself, needing the connection, needing to feel her any way he could.

His little outburst seemed to wash away the last traces of her shyness. She began to bob her head, still using her hand to cover what her mouth couldn’t take, her tongue swirling around him with ease. Her eyes stayed locked on his, and Cauldron boil him, Azriel could have come right then.

His mate was on her knees before him, pleasuring him in a way he had never dared to dream of. Over the last week, he'd fantasized about it once or twice, but he’d assumed she wasn’t ready to take that step and relished the simple intimacy of a gentle, teasing touch while cuddling.

But here she was, her boldness lighting a fire inside him.

“Gods, you’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, a moan spilling from his lips.

She blushed again but only moved faster, taking him deeper. His eyes rolled back, and his fingers tightened in her hair. When she whimpered softly, the sound sent a shock of pleasure through him, clouding his mind and driving him closer to the edge. He rocked his hips once, unable to hold back any longer.

“I’m… I’m close, sweetheart,” he panted. He didn’t care if he didn’t last long, didn't care that she’d been working him for only a few minutes. His release coiled tighter in his gut, his breaths coming faster, and he knew he couldn't hold it back. “You should stop if you don’t want me to come in your mouth.”

But the desire in her eyes only burned brighter, and she didn’t stop. Instead, she put even more effort into it, her free hand resting on his thigh while the other one squeezed gently at the base of his cock. When she hollowed her cheeks again, her warm mouth enveloping him so perfectly, Azriel’s control shattered.

With a groan, pleasure crashed over him, his release spilling down her throat. She swallowed every drop, the rhythmic contractions of her mouth around him drawing out his pleasure for a few more moments before he relaxed again, loosening his grip on her hair as he struggled to catch his breath.

After a moment, she pulled back, and Azriel immediately felt the absence of her warmth around him. Her hand slipped away as well, and for a beat, they simply looked at each other, twin smiles of satisfaction on their faces.

“You were wonderful,” he said eventually, helping her stand and guiding her to sit on his lap. “That was incredible.”

Her blush returned, deepening at his praise, an endearing sight he would never grow tired of. It made him want to keep complimenting her, especially after the pleasure she’d just given him.

He kissed her, savoring the softness of her lips and the familiar taste he’d come to cherish over the past week, now mixed with a hint of own release. His tongue slid into her mouth, entwining with hers while his hand drifted down to her thigh, brushing the hem of her nightgown. She didn’t pull away, but Azriel sensed the sudden tension seizing her body, despite her attempt to hide it.

He immediately withdrew his hand, silently cursing himself for assuming too much, especially after being so careful to let her dictate their pace.

Pulling back from the kiss, he searched her eyes. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I should have asked.”

She shook her head, but she didn't look at him. “No, it's my fault. When I said I don't have much experience, I… I actually meant I don't have any experience.”

Azriel did his best to mask his surprise, not wanting to make her feel more self-conscious. Gently, he placed his hand on her waist, drawing slow, soothing circles over the fabric of her nightgown.

“Why didn't you tell me?” he asked softly.

Her eyes remained fixed downward as she nervously fidgeted with her fingers. “Because you're five centuries old,” she whispered. “You must have so much experience with these things, and I don't, and I didn't want you to be disappointed if I—”

“Hey,” he interrupted, unwilling to let her continue down that path. Tilting her chin up with a gentle finger, he waited patiently for her to meet his eyes. When she didn't, he murmured, “Can you look at me, sweetheart?”

Slowly, her gaze slid to his. Azriel offered her a soft, reassuring smile, hoping it would ease her worries.

“I don't care if you don't have any experience,” he said, his hand still caressing her side. “I'm not disappointed. All that matters to me is you and whether you're comfortable with whatever we're doing.”

She nodded, though some tension still lingered in her body. He could tell she struggled to believe him, but he wanted to make it clear that he would respect any boundary, any hesitation. She came first, and she always would. Everything else could wait.

“We can take things as slow as you want to,” he continued. “I won't rush you. You're in control, Y/N. Always. Okay?”

At last, he felt her body relax, a relieved smile appearing on her face. “Okay,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”

“Good.” Azriel smiled back, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Will you let me get up for a moment? I'll wash up quickly, and then we can go to sleep.”

Her smile grew, a hint of playful anticipation gleaming in her eyes. “Can we cuddle?”

He chuckled. “Of course we can cuddle, beautiful.”

As she slid off his lap, he stole one last kiss before getting up and heading to the bathroom. He could feel her eyes following him, and he couldn't help but smirk.

He wanted her, but if she needed more time, he'd give it to her without question, even after what she'd just done for him. After all, her trust and comfort were more important than his need, and he knew that waiting would only make the moment she was truly ready even more special. The wait would be worth it.

Because she was worth it. She was worth everything.

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon

Azriel Week: @fourthwing4ever

[vnti-vnxiety-recs]

PAGES OF A HEART (M)

★  PAIRING: HockeyPlayer! Haechan x reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 9k

★ GENRE(S): strangers to lovers, Hate to love, Smut

☆ SUMMARY: You have been begging your campus librarian to let you join the staff for ages, but when she finally lets you on, you’re disappointed to find out that the campus’s star hockey player also joins. Can the two of you work things out after a rough start?

★ ☆ WARNINGS: Sexual intercourse, Unprotected sex, 

☆★ NOTES: Wrap it before you tap it. This was supposed to be fluff but I was weak and had to do hate to lovers. Like lol, I bet no one can guess my favorite trope! Bickering is my love language ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Leave nice comments, please <3 

Peace, escapism, and silence.

That is what you usually find when you go to the library. You love going to the library, whether it be to study, read or just get away from your normally hectic dorm. Today is different, though; today you will find all of those things and more. 

When you walk into the library, you greet Mrs. Lee as normal. She was the sole staff member of your college's small, cozy library. Mrs. Lee takes immense pride in her job and refuses to work with anyone else. She is very particular about the upkeep of the books, and honestly, you love her for that. The books stay in pristine condition thanks to her care. Even the dean has acknowledged her efforts. Ever since she took over the library, the campus has had to spend less money on maintenance, so he doesn't feel the need pressure her to hire more staff.

The only downside is that if Mrs. Lee gets sick, they’ll have to close the library since there is no one else to run it. Luckily, that hasn't happened yet, but you've made it your life mission to make sure it never does. You love going to the library, and you have been trying to convince her for months to let you join the staff. You weren't even asking for full-time, just maybe on the days she wanted to take some time off. You think you’re making progress; she gave you a “maybe” last week instead of a flat-out no.

You make your way to your favorite spot in the library before someone else gets to it. Normally, you arrive at the library as soon as it opens every day to secure your preferred spot. It's a little overkill because not many students wake up at 7 to make it to the library, but it was close to finals, so you wouldn't be surprised to see a few faces. Today you were only 5 minutes later than usual, but it seems that's all it took. 

Right there, sitting in the nook at the large window in the back corner of the library, is the prettiest man you have ever laid eyes on. The morning light shone over his tan skin like it was honey. His cute, plump lips blow at the messy hair that hangs in his eyes. He shifted his soft brown hair back with his hand before flipping to the next page in his book. 

Speechless.

You couldn't do anything but gawk at the man who sat in your designated seat. Normally, you would have passive-aggressively walked by the person, giving them an evil look, on your way to find somewhere else to sit, but you couldn't even manage that. You were expecting him to catch you with your mouth hanging open, but you caught yourself off guard with what you did next. 

He's struggling again to brush his hair out of his face, and you can't take it anymore. Your feet move before you can think and your hands are not to far behind as they dig in your bag for your spare headband. You kept one of those soft, stretchy headbands in your bag just in case you wanted to keep your hair out of your face.

In just a quick few steps, your standing in front of him, hand outstretched, offering up your headband. When he looks up at you, your breath almost catches. He is so freaking handsome. Before, it was impossible to notice, but his face and neck are covered in the most beautiful beauty marks, resembling stars. Up close, his lips appear soft, and he looks at you with the roundest doe eyes. You will not have this fine man thinking Your a weirdo So you force the air back into your lungs and speak to him.

“I'm sorry, I just thought you might want this... for your hair,” you say awkwardly. 

"Thank you; my coach keeps telling me I should cut it," he says with a soft smile, taking the headband from you. Placing the book down, he raises his hair out of his eyes with the headband. He had such a beautiful face that it should have been illegal for his hair to ever cover it up. You steal a quick peek at the book he was reading while he occupies himself with that. 

Oh Lord, you might actually be in love. He was reading a book by one of your favorite authors. The book he was reading was the final installment in a series you have been reading since high school. The book was actually just published a few months ago. You try so hard not to look like a fangirl, but you figure since he's reading it, he'll understand.

“Oh my God, is that midnight’s crossing? I just finished that book last week. The series is so good I love Vora; she's one of my favorite characters! She had such a well-written character arc in the second book.” You gush on about the book. You don't want to sound like your rambling so you cut your rant short. His soft smile makes you feel comfortable and you return it shyly.

“Yeah, I actually only just picked up the series recently. Normally, I don't have much time to read but I couldnt put the book down. I read the first three books in one month.” Clearly more interested in the conversation than you had initially assumed, he sits up a little straighter. “Vora was an alright character, but I think Theo is a more interesting character. I think that's why I'm really enjoying this book because it centers more on his backstory.” 

Theo!? Maybe your not so in love. Theo wasn't a terrible character, but he was definitely written to appeal to a male audience. Theo’s character was your typical macho man; you didn't really care that much for his story line. 

The poor guy doesn't even know his favorite character was going to get killed off in this book. One would think he would have noticed how strange it was that a minor supporting character would suddenly have a backstory in the series' final book. You had seen this pattern before, and it usually ended up in a character's death

“Theo’s alright,” you say. “He's gonna get a crazy fight sequence near the end.” 

His face lights up, and he shows you a beautiful, toothy grin. “really!? I can't wait; I've been waiting on them to give him a good fight!” 

You almost feel bad for…..”What was your name?”

“Haechan, and you?”

You tell him your name and let him get back to his book. He would soon find out that Theo's grand battle would be his last, and you did not want to stick around for that. It was a small prank in good fun. Sure, he was insanely handsome, but he stole your favorite spot. Not to mention, he thinks your favorite character is mid. You go find another corner and crack open your own book. You read for about 2 hours before you have to scurry off to your morning classes

Wood, leather, ink, and coffee

That's what you smell when you walk into the library saturday morning. You love the smell of the library. It's so earthy and cozy that you can't help but feel at home in the confines of its four walls. 

You got side tracked yesterday but today would be different. Today you were certain you would convince Mrs.Lee to let you check out books on the other side of the counter for once. You stroll in on time, no later than 7 a.m., and march your way over to her desk. 

Before you can even open your mouth to do your weekly pleading, she beats you to it.

“Yes! You can help out!” She huffs exasperatedly. “I only have so many years left to live, and each day you bother me, it's like I'm wasting my last precious moments.” 

Geez, you didn't think you got under Mrs. Lee’s skin that badly. Oh well, it paid off in the end! You were official! You were the only other staff member in the library. You felt so honored; you earned this!

“I would be more than happy, Mrs. Lee! I’ve been waiting for this for months. I won't let you down!” You beam.

Mrs. Lee gives you a warm smile and places a congratulatory hand on your shoulder. “I've been thinking about what you said, and you’re right. I can't stay cooped up in this library forever. I want to start a garden at home, but I’ve never had the time.” 

“That's great! I hope all goes well!” You encourage the older women. "So, when do I start?”

“In just a few moments, actually. I'll need to show you guys around the staff room and  how I like things organized,” she sighs, getting her pen and clipboard ready.

“You guys?” You question. You are praying you heard her incorrectly. Who else could Mrs. Lee trust enough to help run the library? Hell, as far as you knew, she only ever spoke to you! 

"Yes, we have another person joining us this morning. My grandson needs some extra credit, so I agreed to sign off on it if he helped out around here.” 

"So, where is he?” You ask

“Should be here soon; I told him I'd make his coach bench him if he were late,” she grits her teeth in annoyance. 

Like clockwork, the doors to the library open, and there he is, just a few feet away from the main desk.

“Theo!?” you say in shock

“Theo? No, That's my grandson” Mrs. Lee corrects 

“Its Haechan, and your a liar,” he corrects bitterly. 

Welp…It looks like He finished the book

“i didn't lie! He fought valiantly! ” You argue,

“He died!” he quips back, rolling his eyes as he makes his way to the counter. He slings his backpack on the surface and props himself up against it,leaning across to scowl in your face.

"Well, maybe if he—” you continue, but Mrs. Lee interrupts you.

“Children please! Goodness gracious, act your age and cut this out!” She exclaimed in disappointment. “We have far too many things to cover”

“Yes Mrs.lee”

“Yes grandma”

She gives him a stern look and he straightness himself immediately “Yes, mrs.lee”

Mrs. Lee showed you two around the library and the staff room before she went on a long-hour rant explaining exactly how she wanted the books to be organized and cared for. You listened intently and took notes. You would sneek peaks at Haechan from time to time, and he just stood there, nodding along to everything she said. No way was he listening! The stupid jock doesn't belong here! What sport did he even play? He was too handsome to be put out on a field! You were half way through cooking a plan to find his coach and giving them a piece of your mind for potentially ruining such a beautiful face, but then you realized you were supposed to be upset at him.

“are you even listening?” you whisper once Mrs Lee has her back turned. 

“Mind your business, Vora!” He says it with a lazy roll of his eyes. “You know, that's probably why you like her so much; she's so holier than thou. You must think your so righteous.” He slanders you.

Your forehead creases in aggravation. “Yeah, says the Theo simp! He's such a meathead; all he can think of is fighting, which is exactly why he ended up dead!” you spit back.

He opens his mouth to challenge you, but Mrs. Lee turns around before he can.

“Alright, I think that's everything, kids. Did I go to fast? Were you able to understand me? Maybe I should explain. It's one more time-”

“NO!” You both yell in unison.

“We got it, Mrs. Lee; seriously, I promise.” You smile confidently at her.

“ok then. Well, I'll head out early today and leave the rest up to you. I'll come back later to see how your doing.”

You try to stay positive. This wouldn't be so bad, right?

It's not that bad. If you call two hours of complete silence “not that bad,”

You did not expect your relationship with the cute boy who first caught your eye to turn out like this. You felt bad; Haechan did nothing wrong to you. His only crime was relating to a character that you were almost certain was written as satire. And trash-talk your favorite character. And stealing your favorite spot in the library that one time....ok maybe he had a few crimes under his belt, but they were nothing too serious.

Other than the egregious silence, things were going smoothly. You thought he wasn't paying attention, but you soon found out he was paying attention even more than you. You are honestly grateful that he was here; otherwise, you would have been stuck with a very angry Mrs. Lee lecturing you for two hours on not properly shelving the books. 

"Look, I'm sorry ok? This silence is driving me crazy. Can't we put this behind us?” You crack.

“You started it, princess.”

"Oh, that's really mature of you to point fingers,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“What, then is it my fault? I just wanted to enjoy my book.” Haechan glares at you.

He had a point. You two had started off fine until you started bagging on his favorite character. 

“Hey, I'm trying to do the mature thing and apologize; work with me here,” you say while organizing the checked-in books and preparing them for Haechan to shelve later. You figured he was a little better at that than you were, so you allowed him to fully take over the duty.

He looks up from his spot at the computer. He was fulfilling a request from a student to have a book ordered over from a different campus.

Haechan hits the submit button and sighs. “If we’re going to get through this, we're going to have to at least tolerate each other,” Haechan says.

“Fake besties in front of Mrs. Lee?” You suggest and hold a hand out in a truce.

He shakes your hand in return and gives you a devilish smile. “Don’t let me catch you on campus princess”

“Wouldn't count on it.” 

Sure, technically, you two didn't completely make up, but at least you made progress. At least the tension is alleviated. Sure, you could stick your nose in a book and ignore each other for your entire shift, but Mrs. Lee would kill you if she caught you slacking off. Making small talk with Haechan was the only way to make it through the day. Not to mention you enjoy watching the way he tilts his head in annoyance, tongue in cheek, when you ask him a million questions to pass the time.

“YOU GET TO SPEND TIME WITH THE LEE HAECHAN!? GOALIE OF THE NEO HOCKEY TEAM?” your roommate raves. “AND YOUR ONLY TELLING ME THIS NOW!”

“Jeez Rina I didn't think it was that big of a deal? Plus, it's only been a week,” you say. 

You were lounging around your dorm room when you explained your recent absence to your roommate. She was hounding you for details on where you had been. She assumed you were off sleeping around, but unfortunately for her and her everlasting need for drama, you've been spending time taking care of the library. You didn't think she would get that much entertainment out of it until you made the mistake of mentioning Haechan.

“Yea right! Every girl on campus has their eye on him! He's one of the star players! All he ever has time for is practice! and now apparently, library dates.” she adds.

“They are NOT dates. We can barely stand each other.” you argue. You lay on the old spring mattress and look up at the ceiling 

You didn't know he was such a big deal. Sure, he was handsome, so you assumed he was pretty popular, but this was a different ballpark. 

“I have seriously never seen him anywhere off the ice; how are you getting him all alone? Come on, tell me your secrets,” she pries. She probably thinks there's something going on, but you swear up and down there isn't.

“His grandma is making him help out around the library. Something about him needing extra credit or something? I don't know, but you're giving me a headache.” You didn't want to think about it. 

No wonder the man had such an ego. A Star hockey player? What was he even doing in the library? You had a million more questions you wanted to ask him next time you saw him

Today Haechan was forcing you to help him shelve the books. You usually just leave him to do it, but you guys had a few carts full of returned books that needed shelving. You two were towards the back of the library, finishing up the last of the books, when he decided to press your buttons. 

You see, you and Haechan were on better terms than when you first started, but you two are still at odds on occasion. There was definitely still tension as you went at each other's throats.

“Isn’t it kind of sad to spend all your time at the library? You don’t have any friends?” He says.

“This is fun for me,” you explain simply.

“This is fun?” He asks.

“What do you consider ‘fun’?” You ask. “Don’t you play sports? What's fun about chasing a ball?” You ask.

"Its hockey,” he corrects, shelving another book. 

“Oh? And somehow you can read?”

He turns to you slowly, and you can practically feel the frustration rolling off of him.

“I know your only friends are the characters in your little books, but real people have hobbies. Find one and leave me alone.” he says

You had about thirty minutes before Mrs. Lee came back to check on you two, and you had a few things you wanted to get off your chest.

“Yeah, like your real hobby isn’t getting a puck knocked into your numb skull? Tell me Haechan, what do your teammates think of you spending time with your nose stuck in a book instead of being on the ice?” 

“Go fuck Yourself”

“Only if you watch me” You grin back at him smugly.

He licks his teeth, sends you a devilish smile in disbelief, and leans down to meet your eyes.

“You are so lucky my grandma likes you.”

“Or what?” you ask, taking a teasing step back. You knew what game you wanted to play. You weren't just some bookworm; you were a cat, and Haechan was a mouse that you were dying to play with.

He takes another step towards you, almost closing the distance between you, but stops short when he hears the sharp click of heels walking towards you two.

“Smile and play nice,” he grits out with a plastic smile before turning to face his grandma.

“Oh my, nice work, you two! It looks like everything's been put up properly,” she says as she runs her hands along the spines of a few books, checking that the author's names are in alphabetical order. “You seem to be getting along just fine too! How sweet!” 

“Couldn't be any happier to work with uh…her” Haechan feigns like he forgot your name.

You know that Dipshit didn't forget your name; he just wanted to piss you off. Play nice, my ass.

"Yes, Mrs.Lee Haechan has been doing a wonderful job. I think he really deserves that extra credit.” 

He looks suspiciously at you.

“Oh yes, I think so too dear, but I wouldn't want to leave you here all day by yourself. We can still use him for a little while longer”

The realization hit him a beat later. You figured if you told his grandma how good he's doing, she would give him the extra credit already, and then he would have no reason to stick around. 

“I do wish I could tell his coach how well he's doing on his extra credit. I’ve just been so busy these days,” Mrs.Lee says.

It had taken some time, but you had finally put it together. He was doing this so he could play in the upcoming season! He must have been benched due to not passing a class; now he was stuck here doing extra credit. That explains the extra free time he has and why he's not on the ice as much.

No pass, no play.

"Well, Mrs. Lee, I can always send a message to his coach for you?” You offer.

"Well, that would be perfect, sweetheart. Here, I have some things in my office that I want you to take to him when you get a chance. Come now,” she waves you over as she shuffles excitedly to her office.

You follow behind her closely and send a quick grin over your shoulder at Haechan's stunned shock. You were playing a dangerous game with him. No one comes between him and the ice.

Did you want to end up in an all-out war with the Neo's goalie? Absolutely not, but that's exactly how the last few days have played out. Coach Choi wouldn’t be back on campus until Friday, so you had a few days to hang Haechan's fate over his head.

“Just wait until Mr. Choi finds out you called me a bitch” You would say when he was mean to you.

“You think Mr. Choi will let you play if he finds out your trying to skip out on library duty to go party?” You told him one day when he came to you asking to cover a shift for him.

If Haechan heard you say Mr. Choi one more time, he was going to lose it. First of all, it was Coach Choi, and he was sure his coach was still going to let him play; he was one of their star players. Haechan wasn't going to just sit back and let you bully him; he had a few tricks up his sleeves too.

“Grandma, I mean Mrs.Lee I brought you some fresh fruit; you can eat it with the tea I made you,” he says sweetly to his grandmother. 

“Oh, what a sweet boy! I knew working at this library would do you some good,” she gushes over him. 

She has been raving about her adorable grandson and how wonderful he was for the entire week. You knew it was all an act. He knew the most important thing to you was being Mrs. Lee's favorite.

For every “Mr.Choi” you threw at him, he would get a “sweet boy” from Mrs. Lee in return.

It didn't end there, though. Some of the Neo's are popping in more frequently now. It had been almost every day now that your favorite spot was occupied by some stupid, hocky jock with a pretty girl sitting on his lap. You had been looking forward to spending all day in your favorite nook after Mrs. Lee told you she only needed Haechan for the day. Now, as you shuffle around the tall bookcases of the library looking for a new spot, Haechan just smiles at you from over the counter.

Taking Mrs. Lee's praise was one thing, but desecrating your favorite spot with smelly hockey gear was another.

"Who stocked the books last?" Mrs. Lee calls out after doing her end-of-shift walk-through. She still didn't fully trust you and Haechan, so she would always walk through after you were done for the day.

"I just finished stocking them a few minutes ago," Haechan replies from the computer behind the counter. Somehow, he was able to run DOOM on the outdated computer system.

"I must be too lenient with you these days; you're making mistakes. I think you need more time with the book to learn their proper place!" She scolds

"What are you talking about I—"

"You shelved a book that hasn't been checked back in! I have been looking for this book all week! It was only thanks to Y/N that I found it" She finishes, waiving around a copy of Macbeth.

"I definitely checked that in!"

"No excuses! You're working the library all week by yourself if you still want that extra credit," she finalizes. All you can do is grin over her shoulder as he sends you a death glare.

Today was Friday meaning, all the fun was soon to be over. Haechan was let off easy, he was supposed to work today. Mrs. Lee wanted the library to herself today; she said she missed the smell of the books. You hope you didn't have to run into him, you had to focus on your meeting with Mr. Choi today.

It was midday when you decided to finally make your way over to the gym. You pull your jacket on, knowing it would be cold where you were going. As much as you tease him, you weren't actually going to say anything bad about Haechan to his coach. As much as you hate to admit it, you did believe he deserved that extra credit. He had been doing a really good job in the library. 

You finally reach your destination and push open the polished white doors to the gym. It was like the building was brand new; everything looked pristine. You were jealous that this was where all the school funding was going and not to the poor library, which could definitely use a remodeling. You shake the thought from your head and you walk further into the building.

In the center of the building was a huge ice rink, and surrounding it were cushined stands that almost reached the ceiling. Massive. That's all you could think of when you took in the scenery.

You snap out of your dazed state and scan the arena. You see movement on the ice and notice a blur of messy hair and tan skin effortlessly making its way across the ice. 

Haechan was running drills up and down the ice, maneuvering his puck in and out of obstacles cleanly. 

You make your way closer to him, and he's so focused that he doesn't notice you yet. Now that your up close, you can see the sweat as it glistens on his skin and drips down his neck. Man's was putting in work on that ice, and you immediately felt bad for trashing it before. This was Haechan's craft, and you could see just how much he cared for it. 

“I thought you were the goalie?” 

He skits to a stop and turns to your voice, confused. Once he realizes it's you, he squints his eyes suspiciously at you.

“Here to snitch to coach?”

“Humor me, and you’ll find out,” you smile.

He skates over to you and collides heavily with the barrier dividing you, making you jump. “I am the goalie; you know I'm the goalie.” He answers

“I thought you could only stay in the net, though?” You ask curiously 

"Technically, I can play outside of my net; I just can't cross the center line. "It would be stupid of me to play to far from the goal. These exercises are just for practice.”

"Where is everyone else?”

“Teams pissed I'm benched, so they won't play the ice with me until I'm officially back in the game,” he shrugs, but they can help him torment you throughout the week? Some team he's got.

"I don't understand men," you say, rolling your eyes.

“Its called tough love babe, you get it,” he teases. You fake punch him through the plexiglass, and he flinches jokingly. 

“You wish,” you mumble.

A comfortable silence settles as you just stare at each other with hesitant smiles gracing your lips, replacing the usual scowls.

“Why not help me out?”He asks

“With what?”

“Practice with me.”

“You want me?  on ice? I don't think so,” you laugh.

"Oh come on, Ice Princess afraid of a little cold? What happened to all that bite you had before? Afraid you'll lose some of the few brain cells you have?”

Oh he was so on.

He takes you into the storage room and helps you fit some spare skates onto your feet. He shoves a hockey stick into your arms and helps you back onto the ice. 

Oh it was so over

You felt ridiculous. You had no idea how to hold the hockey stick and you could barely stand on the ice. You figured Haechan must be getting a kick out of watching you struggle, but once you look up from watching your every step, you find nothing but worry in his eyes.

“Be careful not to fall; it's easy to bruise on the ice,” he warns gently as he skates circles around you, literally and hypothetically.

“I don't need your help; I can figure it out on my own,” you grumble And take a brave step forward. 

You knew the basics of ice skating, but that was just it; you knew it. Actually, putting it into action was a lot harder than you thought. You knew you were supposed to bend your knees, make a V shape with your feet, and lean forward slightly. That was the easy part, but actually moving? Not computing. 

You hear a soft chuckle behind you, and you throw a glare over your shoulder. 

“Let me help you,” Haechan laughs lightheartedly “can't help me practice if you can't skate dummy.” 

"This was your idea" You remind him

He glides over to you and hovers his hand on the middle of your back. Not fully touching you, but close enough, you know that he's there if you fall. You feel a bit more confident with him there, and you take your first step. You stumble immediately, but he's right there to catch you. He helps you right yourself and moves to skate in front of you. He grabs your hands and holds them steadily.

“The issue is that your taking steps; don't try to walk on the ice; push off and glide,” he explains. 

You follow his lead as he skates backwards. You stumble a few more times but your starting to find the rhythm to it. You can't help but smile excitedly at him. When you try to jump with joy, you immediately slip and fall. You close your eyes, bracing yourself for the impact of the cold, wet ice, but instead collide with a firm chest. You had fallen forward into Haechan's arms, and when you lifted your head up, you found yourself a breath away from his face. You can literally see your breath mingling in the cold air of the rink.

Time is frozen, and neither of you moves as you watch each other, waiting for the other to make a move. You lick your lips, and you can feel his grasp on your waist tighten at the sight.  

“Can I ki-”

SLAM. The sound of a door echoes through the building as footsteps follow. You and Haechan part immediately, and you turned towards the source of the noise.

It was Mr. Choi, the exact reason you were here in the first place. It looked like he was leaving for the day. You really needed to talk to him and give him the things Mrs. Lee wanted you to.

“Oh! Mr. Choi, excuse me!” You call out to him and shuffle as best you can across the ice. Before you can even stumble, you feel an arm encircle your waist as they guide you across the ice, smoothly pulling you along. 

 You finally make it off the ice and waddle towards him. awkwardly hanging on to the  gaurd rail with the skates still on your feet. 

“Mr.choi Just. A moment.”

He finally turns to look at you and raises an eyebrow

“Mrs. Lee sent me; she wanted to go over Haechan’s progress with the extra credit but she's been too busy to come here herself,” you explain, a little out of breath.

The coach takes one look at your exhausted form and then at haechan before letting out a sigh.

“Follow me to my office,” he says, walking back the way he came.

You make your way to the nearest bench and down. You rid yourself of the deadly contraption on your feet. You grab your things and send Haechan a final smile. His eyes are glued to you as he circles the ice watching as you following Mr. Choi. You enter through the door you saw him walk through; it seems like the office is located in the locker room. You find the coach seated in his office, near the back of the locker room. As much as Haechan bothered you, he deserved his praise. You relay your report and don’t forget to give him the things Mrs. Lee had for him. 

“I'm happy to hear he's not causing any trouble for you”

“Of course not”

"please save me TT," you cry from inside.

"Well, keep me updated if anything changes; I know he can be a handful sometimes”

You smile at the comment and nod “I'll see you around, Mr.Choi.”

“Just call me Coach.” He corrects.

“Right,” you smile.

You stroll out and look over at the ice to find Haechan running his exercises again. He looks at you expectantly as he skates the ice skillfully.

“You'll find out soon,” you say, answering his silent question.

You heard the door open and close again, and Coach Choi appeared to have followed closely behind. Haechan gets called over, and you take this as your cue to leave the two alone. Hopefully he remembers your kindness and you can finally call a truce on this petty war.

Over next few days, things have been going great between you two. You were actually starting to enjoy Haechan's company. After giving good feedback to his coach, he decided you weren’t too bad. The time spent in the library together is filled with small laughs and light jokes at first, but as you two finally break from your apprehensive shell, you find yourselves completely opening up and letting your guard down.

Outside of the library, he's been teaching you how to skate, and you have been seeing more and more progress. You two even started buddy reading. This is how it should have been from the beginning. You didn't realize how much you wanted to get close to him until you finally did. 

You were currently on the rink with Haechan as you skated alongside him. You would follow behind him as he practiced and you would read aloud for him. Recently, he hadn't had time to read. His coach was pushing him to practice more as the season approached, so you read for him to ensure he didn't fall behind

You finish off a chapter and close the book. “how are we feeling about this chapter” 

“Too short; I feel like not much happened in this chapter,” he comments.

“I could read another if you like?” 

“Nah, I'm almost done,” he says as he comes to a stop to catch his breath. “lets wrap up”

You nod and make your way off the ice.

You busy yourself with untying your skates and haechan sits down next to you to untie his.

“when I'm back on the ice, are you gonna come watch me play?” he asks

Your wanted to answer right away but you find your mind wandering back to your conversation with your roommate all those weeks ago. Haechan was the hotshot player, who knew what kind of rumors would spread if you came to the game to support him

“I'm not really a hockey fan,” you say. It was true; you don't really follow sports.

“you wouldn't be my fan?” he teases

“especially not yours,” you joke back

“Seriously, it would mean a lot to me”

“when did you start caring about being seen with me?”

“since you stopped being annoying,”

Point taken.

“I'll think about it,” you say before you stand. Your make your way out and call over your shoulder, “don't fall behind on your chapters; I won't be able to read to you once they take you off the bench”

Mrs. Lee had finally concluded his extra credit, and once it was reported to his professor, his grade was updated, and he was good to play again. Of course, Mrs. Lee extended him the opportunity to continue working at the library, and when Haechan says he'll make time to stop by and see you, you believe him.

That was a mistake

It was stupid of you to think Haechan actually cared about spending time with you in the library. Once he was cleared to play, he put all his time back on the ice. 

If you crossed paths on campus, he would smile and wave, but there was nothing much outside of that. So what was all this for? Were you just there to help him kill time until he was back with his beloved team? You admit you started off really rocky, so you wouldn't put it past him, but lately you felt as though you really grew as friends. 

You knew how much the sport meant to him, but you couldn’t stop the hurt that followed. You were only human after all, and humans made stupid decisions.

It was finally the night of the first game of the season, and you sat in the stands as you watched the game unfold. Maybe Haechan was right to be cocky; he was really good at defending. You couldn't take your eyes off of him. The away team was down 15 points, and the game was coming to an end. If the team was good enough, they might have been able to turn the tables in the last quarter, but that doesn't happen as Haechan blocks almost every shot they attempt. He was quick and used his entire body to block his opponents shots. You had never seen him so focused before.

The buzzer sounds, and the crowd cheers. You come down the stands to give your congratulations. Haechan spots you as you approach and gives you a smile, opening his arms for a hug.

You weren't here for him.

You walk right past him and hug his teammate, Jeno. You had been getting closer with Jeno over the last few weeks. You had checked out a book for him one day and even helped him study it for his history class. You two have been talking ever since. Haechan's smile fell immediately. You wish you could have captured the look on his face. 

“Are you coming over to celebrate?” Jeno asks

“Of course I'll wait for you, ok?” You say and hug him tighter.

Haechan remains motionless, his face full of confusion and anger.

Jeno leaves you and heads back into the locker room.

Most of the team had started to head back already, and someone clapped a hand over Haechan's shoulder, dragging him back to the locker room and rambling in his ear about the amazing plays from that night's game. Haechan can't seem to pay attention, focusing solely on you and the sly smile that graces your lips.

You were honestly impressed by how quickly Haechan changed clothes. He was only in the locker room for about 5 minutes, and when he storms over to you, you can tell he skipped the shower.

“Jeno? Really? You're better than that,” he says, tongue in cheek. 

“Don't start; he's actually really sweet. What do you even care? You won the game, right? That's all you care about.” 

“I see what this is,” he says with a smile “your upset that I didn't make time for you and our little book dates, is that it?” 

“They were not dates,” you correct him 

“Could have fooled me. I see the way you watch me instead of the pages,” he counters

“Oh my god, you're so full of yourself." You say but don't deny his claims. "I thought we were past this.”

“You’re one to talk; your literally using Jeno to get back at me!”

“How can I get back at you if you don't like me? Why do you care so much?” You argue. “Admit it, you have a thing for me” 

He takes a step closer, invading on your personal space, and you can tell by the expression in his eye that he was about to say something devious, but Jeno interrupts you, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

"Nu-uh, she's mine tonight; back off,” Jeno jokes, whisking you away from the tension you and Haechan created. As you walk away with Jeno, you have a chance to look over your shoulder and catch Haechan's eyes. He gives you a look, but you're unsure what it reads as? You’re too far away to see, but it looks like hurt?

Jeno drives you back to his place; apparently,  the party was at the grand house that most of the team stays in. Most of the team stays together while others live on their own, but all the celebratory parties happen at the big house. You wonder if Haechan stayed here too? You shake the thought from your head. You would not think about him tonight; you had a point to prove.

Once you make it to the house, you notice most of the team is still setting up and getting ready. A few people were early, and they were mostly chatting out back on the deck. You follow Jeno up to his room and he changes into something more comfortable than the practice clothes he had thrown on after the game. You give your opinions on a few of the shirts he tries on and you find that its really easy to talk to him. He was super laid back and you could see yourself becoming really good friends with him.

“You and Haechan, huh?” He asks as he picks over a few chains to match his outfit.

“No, its not like that,” you say, rolling your eyes “Try that gold one on,” You point to the heavy chain sitting on his dresser. 

“The whole team knows something is up. You even practice with him sometimes.” Jeno says as he clips the chain behind his neck and adjusts it in a mirror. 

Your lying on his bed as you absent-mindedly scroll through your phone. "Hmm, not that one. I think silver would match better actually.” You avoid being put on the spot.

“Make up your mind,” Jeno groans, taking the chain off “I know your only here with me to make him jealous, so if you want my help, you could at least be honest.”

You look over his outfit again and give him a flirty smile “Who says I'm not? You look good. Maybe I want to try you?” 

He smirks and crawls over to you on the bed. He pins you down under him and kisses your neck. “You’re not fooling anyone, but who says we can't have a little fun” He teases and caresses your sides. You think he's going to take it farther, but he parts from you and goes back to his closet to find his shoes.

“Just kidding doll, he's my teammate. Even though you can’t see it, I do. He likes you,” he concludes.

You watch him put on his shoes and sigh. Haechan was ruining your chances of getting good dick now too? “You still gonna help me get back at him, right?” you ask.

“Oh definitely, he deserves a little tormenting,” Jeno says as he finishes putting together his outfit “He ate my leftover Kimchi Jjigae, so he's got it coming.”

You laugh and haul yourself from his sheets, joining his side as you both walk down to the party.

When you both enter the stairway, the music hits you, and you can practically feel the bass of the music shake your bones. Any more small talk was clearly out of the question, and you were grateful. You were not in the mood for any of Jeno's twenty-one questions regarding your feelings for Haechan. You doubted you would hear him even if he spoke right into your ear. He leads you to the main floor, and the house is packed. While he waves and greets a few of his friends, you rake your eyes across the crowd to see if you can find Haechan. There has been no sight of him so far. 

You make your way to the kitchen and find the drinks. You still hated the way hard  liquor burns as it goes down and settles for a mixed drink. You stick close to Jeno, hoping Haechan would find you hanging off his teammates shoulders, but you still haven't seen him.

It wasn't until about an hour into the party that you saw him. Honestly, after your second drink, you had already forgotten you were even looking for him as you began to have genuine fun with Jeno. He held you close as you danced on the floor. Although you were both past tipsy, you were not quite drunk. Jeno's chest was against your back as you rocked back and forth to the beat, his head nestled in your neck. 

Haechan had just come down the stairs; you figured he must have been hiding away in his room until this point. He locks eyes with you as your figure becomes entwined with Jeno's. Jeno peppers a few kisses against your skin, and you can practically see Haechan's breath catch in his throat as his face heats up in anger.

You smile in victory and you think he's seconds away from dragging you off the floor but he surprises you. He pushes through the crowd, but he doesn't come toward you at all. He angrily makes his way through the front door, slamming it behind him. 

You pull away from Jeno’s embrace, suddenly ashamed. "I don't think this is working” 

Jeno can't hear anything your saying, so he just screams, “HUH? WHAT?” loudly in your face. 

“I”M LEAVING,” you try to communicate through gestures.

“SHOULD I GO WITH YOU?” he asks, finally able to understand you

“NO IM FINE,” you make an x motion with your arms to tell him no and you point behind you, “GOTTA GO, BYE”  

You leave him in the crowd, and you figure he'll be okay because, when you turn around to spare him one last look, some other girl was quick to take your spot. 

You rush through the bodies of people and make it outside. There were a few people leaning against cars or huddled in groups chatting with friends, but they paid you no mind as you walked down the sidewalk, following a familiar figure that was a few meters ahead of you. 

He had his hands shoved deep in his pockets as he stormed ahead. No matter how much you pleaded for him to slow down, he kept walking. You had no idea where he was going until you spotted an old, run-down building. He was going to the library.

Once he got to the doors, he used his spare key to unlock it and rush inside. You follow after, finally being able to catch up

“Hey! Haechan, wait” You grab his arm, and he finally turns towards you.

“What! Isn't this what you wanted? To piss me off?” He asks in exasperation, his chest heaving in anger.

“Can we just be honest then! Why are you upset?” You challenge. 

“BECAUSE I LIKE YOU!” He yells in frustration, “I've liked you since the day you gave me your headband. I could have done anything else for extra credit You know why I chose the library? Because I knew you would be here!”

“You completely ditched me after!”

“I was busy!”

“Your insufferable is what you are!’

“You think you know it all, don't you!” 

"Well, I do!” You yell, “I know if you liked me, you should have acted like it!”

“Oh yea!?”

“Yea!”

With his lips pressed hungrily against yours, you found it impossible to think at all. Not with the way he pulled you closer to taste more of you. You could hardly keep up. One minute you’re at each other's throats, and the next his tongue is down yours.

He pushes you back against a bookshelf, knocking a few copies from their spot, and you pay them no mind as they clatter to the floor. You would have a lot to clean up afterwards.

“So annoying,” he mutters against your lips as he deepens the kiss.

You still can't keep up. All you can think about is the way his hands feel as they travel across the skin of your stomach. They were cool from the midnight air and you shivered under his touch. He backs away to let you catch his breath.

“Tell me you want it,” he says, a hair's breadth away from your neck. He gave you your moment to back out, to go back to whatever you guys were before, but you didn't take it.

“I need you, please,” you mutter as you bring your hands back up to his hair and pull him down for another kiss. 

You couldn't take another interruption; you needed all of him, and if you had to wait another second, you'd explode. He tried to pull away again for air, but you chased his lips, biting them in retaliation, and he whined.

“Not so tough now, are you” you joke, a bit out of breath.

He narrows his eyes and rests his hand against your neck “You need to be quiet; we’re in a library.” He tightens the hold on your neck and any rebuttal you had dies in your throat “another word and I'll leave you to finish by yourself and I don't think Edgar Allen Poe could turn you on more than I can” 

You raise an eyebrow and open your mouth to rasp out a response, but he has you facing the bookshelf, manhandling you before you can speak.

“Do not test me,” he says.

He has you pinned up against the shelves and undresses you. You want to complain about the amount of clothing he was wearing, but remind yourself of his earlier threat.

The library is dark and quiet; no one would be able to see your bodies dance in the dark. Your senses are heightened and they are all zeroed in on haechan. The warmth of his hands as they explore your body and tease you and the soft sounds that escape his mouth as he grinds his hips against your ass. 

For a second, you don't feel him pressing up against you anymore, and your protests die on your tongue as you feel him lick into your heat from behind. He’s grabbing at your cheeks, massaging them as he spreads them to make room for his face. He's so messy, and you can't help but blush at the amount of noise he's making. Your legs begin to shake as he sucks heavily on your clit. He pulls back and spits on your cunt, adding to the slickness, before inserting his fingers. As many days as you had worked with him, you didn't think it would ever end with him pushing you up against the bookcases and eating you out from the back. Just a few moments ago, he couldn't stand you; now he was on his knees, like he could worship your pussy for a lifetime. You would not be able to look at this library the same way again.

You could feel yourself getting closer, but you'd cry if you had to come around his fingers pathetically rather than wrap around his thick cock. You thread your fingers through his hair and grab hold. You almost don’t have the heart to pull him away, but you eventually find the strength. You pull him up from his knees and into another kiss, and you can instantly taste yourself coated on his tongue. 

“Fuck me already.” you say against his lips.

He groans and gets to work on taking off his pants. He doesn't part from you for even a second, and the death grip he has on your hips tells you he can barely keep it together. He slips inside and you both whimper at the feeling. He fucks you as intimately as someone can press up against a bookshelf in the middle of a library. All you can do is just grip the shelf. You could hardly keep yourself up after coming so close to the edge. 

He finally breaks the kiss, and you gasp for air. The lightheaded feeling makes you tighten around him. He's peppering kisses around your neck and down your back. 

“So good, babe;  you feel so good,” he mumbles. “We could have been doing this from the start but you just wanted to be a brat” He nips at your skin and lands a slap against your bare ass. 

“But all you needed was some dick. Now your so good for me, right baby,” he slows his thrusts down teasingly and presses another kiss to your temple.

His strokes are so deep and calculated you almost start crying. He doesn't like your lack of response so he snakes a hand in front of you and grabs onto your neck. “Answer me baby,” he threatens as he tightens his grip on your throat. His hips pick up at a brutal speed, and he's fucking you so hard that the bookshelf is shaking, causing more books to topple off.

“Yes! All yours! I'm your good girl” you really do cry this time. 

Haechan groans at the sight of the fresh tears that fall down your cheeks. He kisses them away, and he pulls your hips back to meet his thrust, driving deeper into your greedy hole. Your head is up in the clouds, and all you can make out is him whining “so good” and “just like that” into the crook of your neck. 

You cum hard and gush out all over his length. He thrusts into you a few more times before he finally releases deep inside. Your legs are shaking and you have no idea how your going to make it home. 

He pulls out of you and watches as his cum drips out of you. He did not feel like scrubbing his cum from the library floor, so he did the next best thing. He found his way down to his knees again and cleaned you up. You weakly push at his head, and you slump against the bookshelf. 

Haechan has to pull himself away before things get out of hand again. He helps you put your clothes back on and sits you on a nearby bench as he cleans up the mess you two made. He picks up the books and puts them back on their respective shelf.

“Mrs. Lee would kill us if she found out”

“Do not bring up my grandma right now” Haechan shudders at the thought in disgust.

Silence falls over you two as he continues to work. 

“Did you mean what you said earlier” you say, suddenly unable to meet his gaze, like he wasn't fucking the life out of you two minutes ago.

“Yes, I’m sorry for not being upfront with you. It was just so hard; it seemed like we  were always fighting,” he says as he shelves a copy of Huckleberry Finn.

“I'm sorry for the way I acted before,” you sigh “Can we start over...again...for real this time” you laugh.

Haechan finishes rearranging the books and sits next to you on the bench.

“Of course,” and he kisses you. 

This kiss was different from earlier; this one meant something and wasn't lust-filled like the other. This kiss was filled with secret promises and new adventures. When he pulled away and looked him in the eye, you knew things were going to be different.

[astrow0rldx]

PAC 18+: How they view you and their Sexual Thoughts

Random pictures, no theme. choose what your intuition guides you to do. We will cover, How do the person on your mind view you as a person generally & sexuality wise. Also their sexual thoughts about you.

Pile One:

Pulling your tarot first, I got the star, 8 of cups, 10 of swords, and 5 of swords. Which is ironic for the most emo picture pile lol. This is for how they view you. you might have a fear of abandonment, you might get played, led on, bad luck, loss hopes. Be Down all the time, pessimistic perspective or experiences. Playing the victim, being the victim of life. Someone that had bad mental health, and may have avoidant attachment, where you could up and leave, detached. Definitely looks at you as someone who either comes and goes with them or life in general, every card except 8 of cups which is the pirate, and one that leaves has wings on it. Been through a lot and trying to fill a void, or some type of happiness, achievement. Being hopeful, and faithful. Someone always trying to find better for themself even when down.

Pulling oracle, I got Self Assurance(Sacral Chakra) and Pele (Solar Plexus). Orange and yellow aura. Purple and blue can also be significant in someone style or favorite color. This self assurance card, she has a hoodie on with black eyeliner, bangs, while pele raises up the moon coming up from a volcano, bursting into this yellow atmosphere. You are an individual to this person. Comfortable in your skin, connected with yourself. Confident, Passionate and Desire, Powerful and Transformative. Authentic, Assured. Firey. Could be fun, intense, loud, definitely bold in some way. Creative energy, artistic, musical. Sexually open, liberated, free?

They view you sexually as someone who may have worth, be of high value of someway, and them being a spark like a passionate, sexual, firey, dominant man. Or they view this as your sexuality, and sexual dynamic you may like. Fun and free, but stable and committed. They see you as probably submissive, someone who likes to serve and give yourself. Someone who is maybe a quiet freak, runaway and have sex, need for privacy. Probably like to go on vacations, do it in the car, travel for sex. Maybe into candles, or dimmed lights, or lights. Someone who may overcame a lot in hookup culture, don't have to be a hoe, but learned a lot. have a different perspective on sex. Omg, for the pile two picture to be a living room, i am channeling living room flow by jhene aiko for this pile. lol. "its whatever you want, i want to please you most, whatever turns you on. you are so creative the way that your making love to me, you do me, like no one ever done it, that is all i wanted. not your heart or love, do what you do to my body, i just want to fuck." something like that.

Their sexual thoughts about you is conquering you as a sneaky link. getting sexual access to you and slutting you out. relax you, take you in. may be a third party involved, group setting or three some?? omg but their sexual desire for you is strong and maybe a desire for commitment, relationship, or long term. you turn this person on, they think about getting freaky with you. going somewhere to fuck. being this person you come to for something, to be taught, loved, secured, guided. they want to see you bent over in their bed, laying behind you in the bed, spooning. they want to feel you, intimacy with you, sex with you all night, over and over again. they think about straight up sex. a lot of sexual cards came out. they want you to be theirs, foreal foreal. love your side profile, may want to do a lot to your legs during sex, touch them, caress, put them in different positions. hips to, your arch. they want to eat you all up, and kiss on every part of you, pleasing you sensually in every way. they want to overcome obstacles with you sexually, lol, make love.

Pile two.

You got 3 of cups, 6 of wands, the devil, page of swords. How they view you? Some keywords, not all has to resonate. popular, party person, likes things like sex and drugs. thrilling, rebellious things. thot, cocky, thrill/pleasure seeking, attached, addict, obsessed. shining, attention getter, victorious. Curious, communicator, funny, dark mind, dark humor, dark thoughts, in the clouds, airy, open minded, thoughtful, learner, listener. Social media, texting, calls, emails.

Universal Understanding (Solar Plexus) Sacred Learning (Third Eye). Sees you as very intelligent, sharp minded, wise. understands, and can see others, probably psychological. angel eyes, acceptance of others or dont judge people. Wisdom through experience, spiritual growth. Sharp eye!!!! Open third eye! and sharp mind with stuff to say.

They view you sexually as a very feminine, nurturing energy. whos on their level, an empress to an emperor. very loving, and caring. someone who likes to work together in the bed, help each other. put effort in. connect with the other person. create and build on one another. maybe some toxic, drama involved, chaos maybe. likes to celebrate one another, fight with each other.

Their sexual thoughts about you. One part is very loving, intimate, romantic bonding sex. They want to love you, feel loved by you. take it slow, learn and explore your body. admire you and take in your beauty. then another side of them is kind of wanting to take you down, tap you out. Where you kind of let them see this new side of them, and they have full control over you even if your like a victim, like your helpless. handcuffs, holding your hands. using their strength, to kind of hurt you, like a pain and pleasure thing. and wont mind if you dominate them and use strength and confidence.

Pile three

They see you as this ball of energy whos like sneaky, and gets away with things. goes with the flow, lucky with time. akeakeake hopping around sneaking like a ghost, moving with fate. but you have this youthful, playful, fun, adrenaline, passionate energy in you that's ready to explore. take on adventures. they see you as someone who may steal or be sneaky to find security or control within your life. if your confused or stuck. they may see you as a rebel who does what they want on their own desires. they may see you as slightly immature.

They may see you as someone who is social, good with the world, in public environments. can connect to people. or this is maybe how they see you with them, connective, receptive, chill and cool. centered and grounded. maybe someone who goes through lessons in the physical realm, and has these spiritual awakenings, clarity moments, ephianys. Someone who has a good heart, and connected to everyone around them, very connected to nature, yourself. Mind, Body and Soul Balanced.

They view you as a erotic, have you sent them nudes, made a sex tape. they view you as someone who is good in the bed, and may could give good head. You may get your heartbroken, but you overcome, and challenge and travel through them. You may like that sexual dynamic, where they feel bad for you or something, or maybe you want to know how they will hurt you. some emotional kink that involves pain. (this is how they view you) they view you as maybe a cheater though, someone who could sneak around.

Their sexual thoughts, they like it when you know what your doing, and they know what their doing, and you help each other, and go fast. they like it when you guys are transparent, honest, clear. they like to cum, nut, squirt, any liquid of pleasure, and maybe being on top of you, hugging you, connecting and bonding. wanting to have sex to bond and heal things within the connection.

[earlysunshines]

drive me crazy!

pham hanni x fem!reader ; angst, fluff

synopsis: hanni can bear physical touch—unless it’s from you and is oblivious to why that is, oblivious to only her.

warnings: sixth!member reader ; cute and FLUFFY YAAYYY!!!! ; my girl... pls why r u stupid my cute little idiot ; a lil angsty ; idk anything else i didn't mention ; oh um... rly jdashfasd iffy on how the pacing is plus the pining and like everything... was supposed to be short and cute but then i made it more LOL ; not proofread (i don't like reading if u couldn't tell)

a/n: short, silly, cute, lovely, adorable (so hanni) anyways HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! to gf!! also now all the members i write for have a sixth!member reader fic LOL

hanni has always been fine with physical touch, she kind of has to be considering she’s friends with danielle and hyein.

she lets them drag her by the arm, cling onto her, and whatever else that they desire because that’s just how they are. hanni is fine with this, she’s fine with anything the members do.

but you? you’re a whole different story and she has no clue why.

the slightest amount of physical contact from you sends her spiralling, she can’t think right the moment your shoulders graze or fingers brush against one another. her palms go sweaty, her breath gets short, and her face warms up; hanni tends to be more distant when it comes to you.

maybe it's the way you do it so effortlessly, plus that little smirk on your face that renders her dumber than she already is. maybe it's because your hands are always so warm that it makes her flinch away, or maybe it's something more. but this could mean nothing, right?

--

exhibit a:

hanni wasn’t always wary of your touch. there was a point in time where she’d give you hugs without thinking, let you lean on her shoulder or lean on yours, even intertwine fingers during livestreams or just spontaneously because why not?

one night, while in spain during your time recording for the new ep, you two had been put into a room together. there had been two beds, but you wanted to hangout near hanni while you doom scrolled and texted your friends. hanni let you linger there, neither of you had made any physical contact during the time until you mindlessly put your leg over hers, linking it.

while you went on your phone hanni would glance at you, she didn’t know why. you caught her in the midst of it, interrupted her while she traced the curve of your lips and she could only blush.

“is there something on my face?”

hanni still stares, not answering for a bit until a few seconds pass.

“no, i just zoned out.”

“okay...?” you ignore it with a chuckle, returning to your phone.

after hours of scrolling, you yawn, your phone falling somewhere on the bed as the hours of recording and singing throughout that day had caught up to you.

you fell asleep first, your breathing soft and steady, while hanni lay beside you, wide awake. she didn’t mind though. you hadn't moved to your bed, and hanni isn't strong enough to carry you (she's smaller and shorter, that's quite given; you tease her endlessly for it). she couldn’t bring herself to wake you up, watching the peaceful way you drifted off. she felt warm next to you, like it was the most natural thing in the world to be here, sharing this moment. eventually, she let her eyes close too, not bothering to move. she liked the closeness.

the two of you fell asleep beside each other on your backs, your hands barely touching and a leg tangled with the other.

when you woke up, the first thing you noticed was how you were wrapped around her. your arm was draped over her waist, your body molded against hers, and for a moment, you were too comfortable to move. it was similar to the feeling of cuddling your pillow at night in the dorms, but instead with hanni. you really liked the feeling of her in your arms, weirdly enough.

hanni was awake now too, but she hadn’t shifted yet. instead, she lay still, her heart beating faster as she became hyperaware of the closeness between you two. she could feel your warmth, every breath, every slight movement, and it made her feel bubbly and panicked.

hanni wasn’t used to feeling this way, like her entire body was on edge, but in the best way possible. being this close to you—it made everything feel different, more intense. physical touch isn't new to her in the slightest, considering all the members are a little touchy (danielle is a whole different story), but she's never felt this way with you or any of the other members. her thoughts were running a mile a minute, and she couldn’t help but steal glances at your face, admiring how soft and peaceful you looked in the morning light. her nerves kicked in when she realized how close your lips were to her shoulder, how intimate this all suddenly felt.

fuck, hanni thought. everything felt so perfect, but this only made her more wary.

and then you stirred, slowly waking up again, your eyes fluttering open. when your gaze landed on her, your lips curved into the softest, sleepiest smile, and it made her heart skip a beat.

“morning han,” you mumble, your voice raspy with sleep as you reach up to gently caress her face. your thumb brushes her cheek, and she can’t help but lean into your touch, her skin tingling from the simple gesture.

hanni can't breathe. her lips part, and then she closes her mouth to tense her jaw.

“you’re so pretty in the morning,” you say, still groggy but sincere. "how are you real?"

hanni’s face flushes immediately, her heart doing flips as she stares at you, wide-eyed. “you can’t just say things like that,” she murmurs, trying to suppress a smile, feeling shy all of a sudden.

you chuckle softly, your hand still resting on her cheek, not wanting to pull away. “why not? it’s true.”

hanni wants to pull away, it's too much. she feels like her heart might just escape from her chest.

the way you look at her, sleepy but affectionate, makes her feel weirdly nervous in the best way. the closeness, the intimacy—it’s overwhelming, but in a way that makes her want to stay right there, wrapped up in you.

but she can't, the pit in her stomach doesn't let her.

she shifts away, turning and groaning playfully as she stretches. she checks her phone, the time saving her from this situation.

"shit, we should be getting up soon."

you frown, hand resting on hanni's waist still until she sits up and rubs her eyes. "do we have to?" you ask, wanting to stay in bed a little longer with her in your arms. something about being so close to her and her specifically makes you really content.

"we have to get to the location, eat, get ready, recording—you know, all that."

you pout, rolling away from her and finding a pillow to replace her warmth.

"five more minutes?"

"fine..." hanni huffs, looking at you fondly. she can't tell if she's fond of the weird rush you give her either.

—

exhibit b

hanni is in the middle of vlogging, setting up her phone on the counter as she stirs something on the stove. her voice is light, a little bubbly, as she explains what she’s making for dinner, though she’s focused on keeping everything smooth for the video.

the phone drops and she groans, biting her lip subtly as she sets it back up, returning to her little commentary.

“so, i’m just letting this simmer for a bit,” she says, leaning closer to the pot, “and then i’ll—”

before she can finish, you come up behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist. she gasps, then freezes for a second, her whole body stiffening as your head gently rests on her shoulder. she can feel your warmth instantly, she can smell your signature sweet perfume, and the sudden contact makes her heart jump into her throat.

your arms pull her close, and her cheeks heat up as if the stove’s flames were warming her directly. she knows she’s still on camera, but for a moment, she can barely remember what she was even talking about.

“hey,” you mumble softly, voice low and a bit tired, but sweet. “what are you making?”

hanni’s grip on the spoon tightens, and she laughs awkwardly, trying to play it cool. “uh, j-just… dinner,” she manages, her voice a little higher than usual. her brief stutter earns a punch to herself (mentally of course) and she cringes internally. her brain is short-circuiting from the feel of you pressed against her back, your head so close to hers. she swears her face is probably bright red by now. there is no way this is getting cut out, especially not with the popularity you two have as a duo.

you lift your head from her shoulder, standing beside her but still lingering close, your arm brushing against hers. hanni tries her best to focus on the camera, forcing herself to talk about the food again, but it’s so difficult with you right there, looking effortlessly adorable after coming back from your shoot. you’re in casual clothes, but there’s something about the way you look—tired but still glowing—that makes her even more flustered.

“you look cute,” she hears you say softly, just loud enough for her to hear but not for the camera, and it completely throws her off. you look her dead in the eye, your gaze dropping to her lips and then back up as you smile. she almost drops the spoon, quickly looking at the camera and then back at the food, trying to regain her composure. her mind is a mess. how is she supposed to vlog when you’re like this?

“uh—thank you,” hanni stammers, her cheeks fully tinted pink now. she tries to laugh it off, stirring the pot with more focus than necessary, but the tension in her shoulders gives her away.

you chuckle softly, leaning a little closer to check what she’s making. “need help?”

hanni shakes her head quickly, eyes wide as she glances at you, then back at the camera. “n-no! i’m good, totally fine,” she insists, though her flustered state says otherwise.

“okay,” you hum, stepping back but still watching her with a teasing grin. "but if you need me to cut anymore veggies or meat i can! just ring me up! bunnies, did you know that i'm actually a wonnnnnnderful cook? i used to cook a lot with my parents-"

hanni lets you ramble, she loves hearing you ramble. she can't help but smile everytime you do, your voice is like music to her ears, it’s a symphony.

when you're finished with your ramble, you bring the attention back to hanni. "now back to our show!"

hanni lets out a quiet breath of relief, trying her best to wrap up the vlog—or at least this segment. “so, yeah! um, this just needs a few more minutes, and then dinner will be ready.” her voice wavers slightly, but she manages to end the video, turning off the camera with shaky hands.

as soon as the camera’s off, she turns to you, her face still red, and you can’t help but laugh softly at how flustered she is.

“you’re impossible,” she mutters, playfully swatting at you, but there’s a shy smile tugging at her lips.

“what?” you ask, oblivious to everything going on.

"i--" hanni pauses, shaking her head before flicking you in the forehead. "go change, dinner will be ready by then."

…

@/dailyyn on twitter:

“hanni and y/n crumbs! look how good y/n looks after the shoot… imagine being her gf and she greets you like this… id kill to be hanni”

the clip shows you surprising hanni, making her blush with your subtle antics and sharing the cute moment on camera. fans go a little insane partially because of your look, and also the chemistry between the two of you.

↪️@/tokkijeans: is it just me or are they really close? like.. suspiciously close

↪️@/ynslover: replying to @/tokkijeansi wouldn’t be surprised if they. were dating… i’ve never seen hanni so shy

↪️@/hanynenjoyer: this video is so cute! they’re my everything…

—

exhibit c

the studio was lively, filled with activity as the photobook shoot progressed. bright lights flashed intermittently, casting soft shadows over the set as you and hanni stood close, posing for the camera.

you two were in arguably casual clothing, but obviously topped off with some extra details because it was for a photoshoot. you couldn't stop staring at hanni, stealing glances whenever you could. she looked gorgeous, that wasn't debatable. her hair was styled in a way that made it a little wavy and a small clip pinned the hair that would frame her face back.

in return, hanni was doing her absolute best to keep her cool. the light makeup made your features stand out subtly, especially your lips (which hanni couldn't stop stealing a peek at), making you look stunning. you'd probably go trending on twitter later, hanni knows you like to upload selcas after things like this, and each one never fails to gain lots of attention.

(not just from the fans, but from your fellow member too.)

the photographers suggested subtle intimacy—small, delicate touches, heads leaning together, eyes locking in moments that felt almost too real. they had convinced you two it would fit the concept: domestic, casual, and comfortable. for you, it was easy to comply, maybe even natural, to slip into those roles. especially when it was hanni by your side.

your hand brushed against hers as you adjusted your stance, smiling to yourself when you caught her glancing at you. hanni was trying to keep her cool, you could tell—but why? her usual ease seemed strained, her body a little tense despite the casual poses. but you? you were just happy to be this close to her, to feel her warmth as you both leaned into the moment.

the photographer directed a few more shots, asking you to sit beside hanni and lean your head against her shoulder. you did so with ease, resting your cheek carefully on her shoulder. you could feel her freeze slightly under your touch, her body rigid against yours. you bring your hand over and place it over hers, rubbing your fingers gently against her skin to coax her back into relaxation—miraculously, it works.

you didn’t think too much the whole thing; after all, these shoots always required some closeness. but with hanni, it was different. your heart felt lighter being near her, warmer in a way that you didn’t feel with anyone else. you smiled softly as you shifted into the next pose, letting her lean against you this time, her back pressing against your shoulders.

she smelled sweet, like the faintest hint of citrus, and you found yourself wanting to linger there a little longer.

"you smell good." you mumble softly as the photographer readjusts his settings. "like really good."

hanni doesnt answer, she opts for pinching you playfully instead, earning a chuckle.

"what? you look really good too."

"shut up." hanni says, mostly for the sake of her sanity. "you're so... ugh."

the moment ended when the photographer had caught both of your attention again. you two stop bickering (if you could even call it that) and focus once more.

the camera flashes one final time, and the photographer calls it a wrap. as the crew began to clear the set, hanni quickly stepped away, her cool facade returning as she busied herself with adjusting her outfit, avoiding your gaze. your heart sank a little at her sudden distance.

you stood there for a second, watching her, a growing pit of uncertainty forming in your stomach. it wasn’t the first time this had happened. hanni had a way of pulling back whenever you got too close, a way of putting space between you that made you second-guess everything. you were touchy with everyone—that was just who you were—but with hanni, it was different. she made you happier, made your heart feel full in a way that was hard to describe. she was so adorable, so easy to be around, and sometimes you couldn’t help but think of being close to her all the time.

but now, watching her act distant again, you couldn’t help but feel a bit upset. was it something you did? were you pushing too far? but she's completely fine with dani dragging her around, haerin randomly leaning against her, and even she initiates the phsyical contact with minji. not to mention hyein, who's always clinging onto everyone — but that's hyein, she's like a younger sister to you all.

your thoughts spiraled as you bit your lip, trying to shake off the gnawing feeling.

hanni finally glanced your way, catching your gaze for a split second before quickly looking away, her face unreadable. you frowned, taking a step toward her. “hanni… are we good?” you asked, trying to keep your voice light, though the hint of worry bled through.

she hesitated, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “yeah, of course. why wouldn’t we be?”

“i don’t know. it just—” you paused, struggling to find the right words. “sometimes, it feels like you’re… distant. like you’re pulling away. was the shoot too much? was i too much?"

hanni blinked, her expression softening just slightly, but she still didn’t meet your eyes. “no, no— and i’m not pulling away,” she said quietly, but the uncertainty in her voice didn’t do much to reassure you.

you narrow your eyes at her, trying to believe her. you sigh, running a hand through your hair. “okay. if you say so.”

the air between you felt thick, tense, and it was hard to shake the disappointment that clung to you as you watched her pack up her things. you wanted to be close to her, wanted to feel that warmth again, but right now, it felt like she was slipping through your fingers.

this left you spiraling even more, trying to figure out what went wrong. hanni walks over to watch the others, letting danielle cling onto her and not visibly getting nervous or anything like that. was it you? it had to be.

—

soobin was like the big brother you never had, and you were forever grateful for that accidental meeting while you were a trainee and he was a rookie—when he’d spilled his coffee all over you. it had been embarrassing then, but now? it was the reason you had biweekly catch-up sessions—usually over facetime, since no one in the industry liked to see a girl group member breathing the same air as a boy group member.

but today was different. today, the two of you were in one of the company lounge areas, sharing snacks from the convenience store and sipping on the flavored milk soobin had brought. he watched you quietly, eyes filled with concern as you sank into your chair, picking at your fruit gummies without much enthusiasm.

“have things been rough? are they pushing you too hard?” he asked, his voice soft.

you shook your head, your lips pressing into a thin line. “i think my coworker hates me.”

“as in… a member?”

“yeah.” you sighed, popping an orange gummy into your mouth and chewing it slowly.

“may i pry?” soobin asks, stealing a gummy from your pack.

you nodded. “yeah, go ahead.”

“who is it?” he questions, chewing his stolen gummy.

“hanni.”

soobin froze mid-chew, his brows furrowing. “wait, hanni? but— the internet’s always talking about you two. i mean, i know you can’t trust everything online, but i’ve seen it too. you guys seem close.”

“yeah, well, i think she hates it. all the physical stuff, everything i do…” you trailed off, sinking deeper into your seat. “am i terrible?”

the hood of your sweatshirt slipped over your head as you slouched, messing up your hair. soobin couldn’t help but giggle at the sight, tilting his head as he looked at you. “you’re not terrible, y/n,” he assured you, his voice steady. “maybe she’s just—”

“i think i’m in love with her.” you blurted out, groaning as you covered your face with your hands. “i’m in love with her, i think. no, fuck that, i know.”

soobin stared at you, wide-eyed. “you what?”

“i’m in love with her,” you mumbled again, sinking even lower into your seat, hands covering your face. “god, i realized it last night while i was sulking in bed at midnight. and now, everything makes sense. i want to be close to her all the time because i want something more. and i feel like a creep because—am i weird? am i… am i a predator for being so touchy with her? what if she hates me for it?”

he watched as your expression shifted from miserable to horrified, your body practically sliding off the chair now. his deep voice cut through your spiral, calm and steady as ever. “you’re not a predator. trust me. the fact that you’re aware of how your actions might affect her shows that. you’re self-aware, and you care enough to try and make things better.”

“but… this could ruin everything.” your voice was small, defeated.

“it won’t,” soobin says firmly. “i know you.”

“do you know her?”

he shrugged, smiling softly. “i don’t need to know hanni as well as i know you. you always get things done, y/n. you always work it out. remember when we had those dating rumors? you handled that pretty well.”

you groaned at the memory, but it did lift your spirits just a bit. the whole two-week ‘scandal’ had been absurd. someone had noticed that you and soobin both had the same roblox sticker on your phone cases in your selcas, posted just two days apart. it blew up online, spiraling into dating rumors that, frankly, neither of you could believe.

the whole thing was based on a sticker. a roblox sticker. beomgyu had given soobin the sticker, and soobin, thinking it was dumb and funny, gave you one too. somehow, the internet made it a conspiracy.

you had to lie, saying you barely knew soobin, and that you found the sticker on the floor of the hybe building, thinking it was funny. it was the only way to get the fans to calm down. soobin had to pretend he barely knew you as well, but the two of you had giggled over facetime because of it—which was great for your mental state while you noticed the forced hate towards you.

“ugh, that was so weird,” you mutter. “if only they knew we’re—”

“completely off the radar,” soobin finished for you, chuckling. “like some future lavender marriage if the media doesn’t get off our asses.”

you snorted at that, “gross,” but your smile quickly faded as the weight of your current situation settled in again.

he shrugged, his smile gentle. “i don’t need to know hanni as well as i know you to be sure of this. you’re the kind of person who works through things. you always have, and you always will. you’ve told me how close you two were during your trainee days—there’s no way she’d want to throw that all away. besides, isn’t it better to have her in your life, even if you’re in love with her, than to lose her altogether?”

for someone so stupid, he’s equally as wise.

you bite your lip, a sense of helplessness settling in your chest. “i don’t know,” you say, voice soft. “sometimes, i just want to pull away, distance myself so i don’t screw it all up, but… but then i’m around her, and she’s just so... so hanni. she’s adorable and funny and makes me feel so warm inside. and then i'm close to her, and it’s like this weird feeling that makes me want more, but… i don’t want to scare her off. i don’t want her to think i’m weird.”

you could feel tears of frustration prickling at the corners of your eyes, your hands trembling as you spoke. admitting your feelings out loud made them feel so much more real, and that terrified you.

soobin leaned over, placing a hand on your shoulder, his deep voice a steadying force amidst the chaos of your thoughts.

“you’re not weird,” he repeated gently. “you just care. and that’s a good thing. but you need to trust yourself, y/n. you’re good at this—at reading people, at figuring things out. if hanni ever felt concerningly uncomfortable, you’d notice. just... be careful. take your time. you’ll figure it out. i know you will.”

you stared down at your hands, twisting the edge of your hoodie in your fingers. the weight of your confession hung heavily between you and soobin, but there was also a strange sense of relief in having said it out loud—like you had finally let go of something you’d been holding onto for far too long.

“yeah,” you said softly, nodding. “i guess so.”

—

two days after spilling your alleged unrequited love to your wonderful, amazing, stupid, and very gay bestfriend you had gotten dating rumors with—you're sent to a prada show.

being one of the faces for the brand meant being sent to fashion weeks, shows, and various other schedules that had you showing off the designer brand. and each time this happened, you went viral, because prada never fails to impress, especially when it's you.

you’re set for a photoshoot, this time for the cover of vogue. the weight of it feels significant, but not overwhelming. you’re wearing a prada crop top that shows off your toned abdomen, the result of months of dedication and hard work. the black blazer and slacks, perfectly tailored, give you an oversized yet effortlessly chic look, striking that balance between casual and captivating. everything fits like a glove, intentional but laid-back.

you admire yourself in the mirror, your eyes tracing the sharp angles of your makeup. the subtle eyeshadow that makes a statement, the clean lines, the way it accentuates your features—you can’t help but praise the makeup artist, murmuring compliments as you run a hand through your messy, artfully tousled hair. it’s wild but controlled, you snap a picture quickly for your fans.

when it’s time, you step onto the set, the bold red backdrop making you stand out even more. the lights hit just right, casting shadows that emphasize your figure, and for a moment, as you strike the first pose, you think to yourself: wow, this is for the girls.

after shooting is done, you monitor your pictures and are caught off guard from how great they look. you weren't that confident about oyu rvisuals back then, singing and dancing you could od well, but visuals got to your head. you've learned to love yourself more the more your members and the internet praised you, but mostly because hanni used to compliment you a lot even with your bare face, you wish she still did it.

"woah," you say, snapping pictures of the monitoring screen to post to bubble later.

...

hanni is sitting at the dinner table, a snack in hand as she absentmindedly scrolls through her phone. the dorm is quiet, most of the members tucked away in their rooms, and hyein isn’t around tonight since she's with her family. it’s been a long day, but she finds some comfort in texting her sister, filling the silence with their usual banter. she's distracted enough that she almost doesn’t notice the notification from the official newjeans account.

her thumb hesitates before clicking on it, already assuming it’s something from your vogue shoot. everyone knew you were out for the day, busy with your big shoot, so it seemed natural. but what she didn’t expect was how stunning you’d look.

the first picture stops her cold. you’re lounging on some plush couch, leaning back with that casual confidence she’s only ever seen in person—half smirk, half knowing gaze. hanni’s heart stumbles in her chest. you look beyond good. you’re breathtaking. the makeup, perfectly done but not too much, the messy hair that somehow looks effortlessly styled—it’s too much. she gulps without even realizing, eyes locked on the screen as she stares for longer than she cares to admit.

thirty seconds go by, maybe more, before she hesitantly swipes to the next slide. each new picture draws her in further, and it’s not getting any easier to look away. you’re a vision in every shot, and her chest tightens with each one. she knows she’s been trying to distance herself, trying to get her feelings under control, but how is she supposed to do that when just seeing you on her screen makes her lose her cool like this?

“you’ve been staring at that for a while, haven’t you?” danielle’s voice cuts through her thoughts, light and teasing. hanni jumps in her seat, turning to see danielle settling in next to her. she leans over, her eyes landing on the picture of you still displayed on hanni’s phone. “she looks pretty.” danielle adds.

“um, yeah,” hanni mutters, hurriedly swiping out of instagram, but the heat in her cheeks is unmistakable. she sets her phone down as if that’ll somehow help her case.

danielle smirks, raising an eyebrow as she gives her a sidelong glance. “you seemed to like that post, huh?”

“i was just… zoning out,” hanni tries, but the uncertainty in her voice betrays her. it sounds unconvincing even to her own ears.

“seemed like more than that to me.” danielle’s voice is light, playful, but there’s a glint in her eye that says she knows exactly what’s going on.

hanni lets out a forced laugh, trying to brush it off. “what are you even saying?”

“i’m saying,” danielle starts, leaning in just a bit closer, “that it’s quite odd of you to stare so hard at her. not just at her on the cover of vogue, but in general.”

hanni swallows hard, trying to play it cool, but the flutter in her chest tells her otherwise. danielle’s right, and the worst part is, she can’t even deny it.

danielle’s eyes linger on hanni, clearly not buying her act. hanni feels the pressure building, but she stays silent, forcing a simple shrug as if nothing’s wrong. she knows danielle is waiting for her to crack, but she’s not ready to let everything spill. not yet.

"so…" danielle starts, her voice teasing but gentle, “you’re really gonna act like that wasn’t you staring at y/n’s photos for, what, five minutes?”

hanni scoffs, though it sounds forced. “it wasn’t five minutes, and i wasn’t staring like that.”

danielle crosses her arms, eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “right. sure you weren’t. you only jumped like i caught you doing something illegal.”

“i was just… scrolling,” hanni mutters, turning her attention back to her phone, trying to seem unbothered. she swipes through random apps, but danielle’s quiet presence next to her makes it impossible to focus on anything else.

“scrolling, huh? that’s what you’re going with?”

“yep.”

“uh-huh. so if i ask again why you were so focused on y/n, you’re gonna say… what?”

hanni huffs, leaning back in her chair. “danielle, it’s not a big deal. i just zoned out, okay? she’s my friend. we work together. seeing her on my feed isn’t weird.” her tone is defensive, too defensive for her liking.

danielle raises her eyebrow, unrelenting. “zoning out on the same picture for thirty seconds? then the next one? and the one after that? you sure it’s nothing?”

hanni’s lips press into a thin line, irritation bubbling up, though it’s more with herself than with danielle. why is this so hard? why can’t she just brush it off? but danielle is looking at her with that piercing, curious gaze, and hanni knows she’s not letting it go. plus, it's danielle.

“you’re imagining things,” hanni tries, though her voice wavers.

“am i?” danielle leans forward slightly, her tone is soft but persistent. “because i know what i saw. and this isn’t the first time you’ve been weird about y/n.”

hanni blinks, her guard starting to slip. “what do you mean ‘weird’?”

“you’ve been acting strange around her for a while now,” danielle points out. “you avoid her, then get all flustered when she’s near. and now you’re sitting here, staring at her photos like you’re in a trance. come on, hanni. something’s up.”

hanni clenches her jaw, trying to hold onto the last bits of defense she has. “it’s… it’s not like that. she’s just—”

“just what?” danielle cuts in, her voice more patient than accusing. “you can tell me. whatever it is, i’m not judging.”

hanni sighs, her resolve beginning to crumble under danielle’s persistent questions. she opens her mouth, but no words come out, her mind racing to come up with some kind of excuse, something that’ll make danielle drop it. but there’s nothing, and hanni knows it.

danielle’s watching her closely now, not pushing too hard but clearly waiting for hanni to finally let it out. “hanni, it’s okay. i’m not gonna force you to talk if you don’t want to. but i’m just saying, i’m here if you need to get something off your chest.”

hanni bites her lip, her heart pounding in her chest. she can feel the words bubbling up, the truth she’s been trying so hard to suppress. but how can she admit it? how can she explain that being near you makes her feel like her heart is about to burst, that every touch and smile from you sends her into a spiral? she's beyond fucked.

“danielle, it’s not… it’s not what you think,” hanni starts, but even she knows how weak it sounds. she shifts uncomfortably in her seat, her eyes darting away from danielle’s.

danielle lets out a soft sigh, her tone turning gentle. “hanni, it’s okay to feel something for her. you don’t have to keep it all inside.”

“i don’t—” hanni stops herself, the words catching in her throat. “it’s not… ugh, i don’t even know how to explain it.”

danielle stays quiet, waiting for her to continue.

hanni rubs her face, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “i don’t… i don’t know what to do. she’s just—she’s everywhere, danielle. i can’t even breathe when she’s around. she’s always so close, always so touchy, and it’s driving me insane. i can’t handle it.”

danielle’s expression softens further, nodding slowly as if to encourage her to keep going.

“and it’s not like i don’t like her or anything,” hanni continues, her voice wavering. “that’s the problem. i like her too much. and i don’t know how to deal with it, so i’ve been pushing her away. and now she probably thinks i’m a complete jerk, but… i don’t know what else to do.”

danielle raises her eyebrows. “you’ve been pushing her away because you like her?”

hanni groans, slumping down in her seat. “yeah. because every time she's close to me i feel like i’m gonna explode. she’s so—ugh. she makes me feel things, and i hate it. i don’t know how to be around her without freaking out.”

“so you’re in love with her,” danielle says simply, no judgment in her tone.

hanni freezes, her heart skipping a beat at the words. in love. she opens her mouth to protest, but the truth is already sitting heavy in her chest. she exhales shakily, realizing there’s no point in denying it anymore.

“yeah,” hanni mutters, almost too quietly for danielle to hear. “i think i am.”

danielle leans back, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “well, that’s a start. at least now you’ve admitted it.”

hanni buries her face in her hands again, feeling the weight of the confession settle over her. “what am i supposed to do? i’ve been acting so weird around her, and she probably thinks i hate her now.”

danielle shakes her head. “hanni, i don’t think y/n could ever think that. if anything, she’s probably wondering why you’re avoiding her. you should talk to her.”

hanni groans again. “but what if she doesn’t feel the same way? what if i ruin everything?”

“you won’t,” danielle says confidently. “you’re both close. i don’t think y/n would throw away your friendship over this. but you’ll never know how she feels if you don’t talk to her.”

hanni knows danielle is right, but the thought of confronting her feelings—and you—feels terrifying.

"and if it makes you feel better..." danielle continues, "i don't think the chances of her not returning the feelings are high. she cares for you a lot and she's not nearly as touchy or close with any of us—just you han."

"oh."

hanni bites her lip, fighting every worry in her head. as she does so, the root of her crisis returns home.

both her and danielle look up to see you sighing as you close the door, waving at them tiredly as you walk towards where your room is. danielle tilts her head, looking at you closely: your shoulders are sinking a bit, your hair is messier than before, and you look exhausted.

"how was everything?" danielle asks you, ignoring hanni beside her who's trying to recover from her feelings taking over. "your makeup is still intact."

"i fear." you say tiredly, rubbing your eyes. "it was cool, but they made me do a lot of promo and interviews. it's over now at least."

you glance at hanni, who's failing to meet your gaze.

"well," you start, "i'm going to go wash up and pass out. night guys."

"night!" danielle beams, smiling.

you look at hanni, waiting for a response. she finally looks you in the eye, then seemingly scans your face and hesitating before she also says, "night y/n, rest up okay?"

"yeah, of course han." you smile softly, waving to them once more before disappearing into the hallway.

danielle looks at hanni immediately after you're out of their sight, and speaks as soon as she hears the door close.

hanni just groans, hiding her face in her hands as she mumbles, "she looks too good i can't possibly--"

"don't be like that." danielle scolds, "it'll be fine."

hanni can barely look at you these days, the fact that she has to face you while knowing everything she feels is real and inescapable—hanni might be on her deathbed soon.

—

the room is warm, sunlight streaming through the thin curtains and casting a soft glow over the space. your blanket is tangled around you, your loose pajamas wrinkled as you lay sprawled across your bed. hanni stands quietly in the doorway, staring at your still form with a soft sigh. she knows she should wake you up; you've overslept, and the rest of the members have already started their day. but as she stands there, watching the rise and fall of your chest, something holds her back.

your hair’s a mess, sticking up in all directions, and you’re wearing that loose t-shirt she gave you months ago. it’s oversized, slipping off your shoulder, and the sight of you like this—so comfortable, so unguarded—makes her heart skip a beat. there’s something about how peaceful you look that makes hanni want to crawl into bed with you, to be close, but she knows she shouldn’t.

she swallows, shaking off the thought, reminding herself why she’s here. she’s supposed to wake you up, not… whatever it is her mind keeps drifting to. taking a deep breath, she walks closer and kneels by the edge of your bed.

"y/n," she whispers, poking your cheek gently. "you’re gonna be late if you don’t get up."

you don’t move, still lost in whatever dream you’re having and turning away. hanni shifts awkwardly, not sure what to do. she leans down and lightly pokes your cheek again. "come on, y/n, wake up."

nothing.

with a tiny huff, she pokes you again, this time a bit harder. "seriously, you can’t just sleep all day. you’re going to be late!" she whisper-yells. 

you still don’t stir, and hanni finds herself smiling despite her frustration. you look so... soft like this. relaxed. carefree. she’s really tempted to lay down beside you now, more than before. she wants to pull the blanket over herself and close her eyes, pretending for just a moment that things are the way they used to be—before all this weirdness between you two. she could pretend there’s nothing on the schedule, she quite literally has free will, she could do it and nothing would stop her. 

but she can’t. she knows she can’t.

instead, she pokes your cheek one more time. "y/n," she whispers, leaning closer. "please get up."

without warning, you move, but instead of waking up, you grab hanni’s wrist and pull her closer, dragging her halfway onto your bed. she yelps, startled, but you don’t seem to notice. you just snuggle into her, wrapping your arm around her waist as if she’s your pillow, your face pressed against her stomach.

hanni freezes, her heart pounding in her chest. you’re still half-asleep, clearly not realizing what you’re doing, but that doesn’t stop the warmth from rushing to her cheeks. she feels like she’s on fire, caught between wanting to escape and wanting to stay right where she is. your warmth, your scent, the way your body feels against hers—it’s overwhelming.

"hanni?" you mumble groggily, eyes still closed. "what are you… doing?"

"uh," hanni stammers, trying to keep her voice steady. "you need to get up. you’re gonna be late."

but you don’t move, just hum in response, your hand moves to loosely hold hers. hanni swallows hard, her whole body tense as she tries to ignore the warmth of your skin, the soft feel of your fingers intertwined with hers.

this is too much.

"hanni?" you mumble again, voice thick with sleep, your hand instinctively pulling her a little closer. "just five more minutes."

hanni can barely breathe, her mind scrambling for some kind of excuse to get out of this without completely losing it. she manages to slip out of your hold, her heart pounding as she sits on the edge of your bed, trying to compose herself. "you need to get up now, y/n," she says, a little firmer this time.

you finally stir, blinking up at her with bleary eyes, confused by the sight of hanni sitting at the edge of your bed. "hanni? what are you… what are you doing here?"

she shifts awkwardly, trying to keep her tone casual. "you were sleeping in, and i came to wake you up. the others are already in the dining room."

you sit up slowly, rubbing your eyes as you look at her. something feels off between you two, a tension that wasn’t there before, something bigger than before. you can feel it too, even in your groggy state. the silence hangs heavy in the air, the unspoken distance between you making everything feel… strange.

"hey," you mumble, running a hand through your messy hair, "we, uh… haven’t really talked much lately, have we?"

hanni glances down at her hands, fidgeting with her fingers. "yeah," she mutters, her voice soft. "i guess we’ve both been kind of... distant."

you nod, still trying to shake off the sleep. "i don’t know why it’s been like that," you say, your voice quiet. "feels like something changed, and i don’t really get it. i’ve been wanting to talk to you, to be honest.”

hanni’s heart tightens at your words. she knows why she’s been distant—because you make her nervous, because she’s terrified of her feelings, because she doesn’t know how to act around you anymore. but she can’t say all that. not now. not like this.

"i’m sorry," hanni finally says, her voice barely above a whisper. "i didn’t mean to pull away. i just… i didn’t know how to handle things."

you look at her, a faint frown creasing your forehead. "handle what?"

hanni shrugs, avoiding your gaze. "just… everything. i guess i got overwhelmed, and instead of talking to you about it, i kind of shut you out. i didn’t mean to."

you’re quiet for a moment, processing her words. it doesn’t really make sense, but it’s something. "i thought you were mad at me," you admit softly. "i didn’t know what i did wrong."

hanni’s heart aches at that. "you didn’t do anything wrong," she says quickly, shaking her head. "it’s not you, y/n. it’s me. i’m sorry for making you feel that way."

the two of you sit in silence for a while, the tension slowly easing as you both realize how much you’ve missed each other. there’s still so much left unsaid, so many things neither of you are ready to admit yet, but this… this is a start.

"i missed you," you finally say, your voice quiet but sincere.

hanni looks up, her heart swelling at your words. "i missed you too."

the weight of the past few weeks lingers in the air, but for the first time in a while, it feels like things might be okay again. even if neither of you is ready to fully address the feelings you’re both clearly harboring, at least you’re talking. at least you’re trying.

and for now, that’s enough.

—

hanni and danielle sit side by side on the couch in the waiting room, both scrolling through their phones. it’s a quiet break, the kind they savor between the chaotic schedules, but their attention keeps drifting to where you’re seated, getting your makeup done. you’re chatting softly on the phone, smiling as you talk to your parents, completely at ease in the chair.

hanni, however, can’t seem to focus on anything else. her eyes flicker over to you every few seconds, as if drawn by some invisible force. she watches how you laugh quietly, the way the stylist’s brush glides over your face, how you seem so naturally pretty even in this hectic setting. her mind is still spinning from your recent talk, even though it was brief. it lingers with all the things unsaid, all the questions still hanging in the air.

next to her, danielle finally breaks the silence.

"so," she starts, her voice casual but curious, "did you and y/n talk?"

hanni’s fingers freeze mid-scroll, and she glances at danielle, unsure of how to answer. after a moment, she sighs. "yeah, we talked… sort of."

danielle raises an eyebrow. "sort of?"

hanni shifts in her seat, picking at the edge of her sleeve. "we addressed the distance. like, we apologized for being weird with each other, but… i don’t really know where to go from there. it’s like, we acknowledged it, but it didn’t fix everything. i still feel…" she trails off, struggling to find the right words. "i don’t know. confused, maybe?"

danielle watches her closely, nodding slowly in understanding. "well, that’s a start, right? at least you talked about it."

"yeah," hanni mutters, but there’s a tinge of uncertainty in her voice. she glances back at you, still on the phone, still pulling her attention without even trying. "but it doesn’t really feel settled, you know? like, we just put a band-aid over it."

danielle sighs softly, leaning back against the couch. "stuff like that is complicated," she says, almost as if she’s speaking from experience. then, after a moment of silence, she turns to hanni with a teasing smile. "by the way, you’ve been staring at y/n this entire time. i can’t believe she doesn’t know that you… you know,"

hanni’s face flushes, and she quickly looks away, crossing her arms defensively. "i was not."

danielle laughs, clearly not buying it. "uh-huh, sure. i’ve been watching you. every time she moves, your eyes follow. it’s like you’re in a drama, and she’s the lead you can’t get over."

"i’m just… i’m just making sure she’s okay," hanni tries to defend herself, though the heat rising in her cheeks betrays her. "she’s on the phone with her parents. what if something’s wrong?"

"oh, please," danielle says, her smirk growing. "you’re just using that as an excuse to admire her. you’ve been acting like this for weeks, hanni. just admit it. remember her prada post?"

hanni opens her mouth to argue, but the words die in her throat. she knows danielle’s right, and that makes it worse. instead of responding, she just sinks further into the couch, burying her face in her hands.

danielle pats her on the back with a chuckle. "don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. for now."

hanni groans, peeking through her fingers at you again. you’re still deep in conversation, oblivious to the way she’s been spiraling.

"you’ve got it bad," danielle teases softly, her tone more understanding now. "but it’s okay. maybe just… give it time. you two are good together, even if you don’t know where to go from here yet."

hanni nods, grateful for danielle’s support, but her eyes drift back to you. she can’t help it—there’s something about you that keeps pulling her in, no matter how hard she tries to resist.

—

it’s late, and the dorm is quiet. hanni sits on her bed, phone in hand, staring at the screen. she’s been thinking about you all week (she’s always thinking about you), the tension that had built between you two finally dissipating after your brief talk. things have felt… fine, normal even, but it’s almost too normal. like the distance you both addressed had just been covered up with another flimsy bandaid, never fully resolved. 

the problem is, she can’t stop thinking about you. and danielle, who’s oddly observant, keeps urging her to clear the air.

"just talk to her," danielle had said earlier, as they watched you laugh with the others during practice. "y/n wouldn’t let this mess up your friendship, you know that."

and now, as hanni sits there, her fingers hover over her phone screen, wondering if she should actually text you. she taps out a simple message before she can second guess herself:

hanni: you up?

the reply comes almost instantly: 

y/n: yeah, what's up?

hanni: can’t sleep

y/n: aw me neither i was calling my mom earlier and after that i couldn’t close my eyes for more than a minute

hanni: :-(  sorry to hear

hanni doesn’t know what else to say, but you beat her to the chase.

y/n: come over?

her heart races for no reason, and before she knows it, she’s standing in front of your room. she hesitates for a moment, then knocks softly before opening the door.

you’re sitting on your bed, scrolling through your phone. you’re worried that you scared her off again after being left on read. thankfully there’s a knock at your door a minute later, and when you see her, you offer a small smile. "hey."

"h-hey," hanni says, feeling a little awkward as she steps inside and sits on the edge of your bed. there’s a brief silence, the kind where you can both feel the unsaid words hanging in the air. she picks at her fingernails, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye. you’re still in your pajamas, hair a little messy, looking so comfortable that it’s hard to look away.

after a beat, you exhale, breaking the tension. "fuck this," you mutter, shifting to lay down on the bed, patting the space next to you. "come on."

hanni blinks, then, after a moment’s hesitation, lies down beside you. the bed feels small with both of you so close, but she’s trying to act normal, like her heart isn’t doing backflips just from being near you. you both stare up at the ceiling for a moment before you start talking, and to hanni’s relief, it feels natural.

you talk about everything—the group, your recent worries about the new routines, the photoshoots you’ve got lined up, how excited you are about the new choreography. hanni listens, nodding along, occasionally chiming in about her own thoughts. it feels comfortable, almost like it used to be, like there’s nothing between you but shared conversation.

"i’m really liking the new choreo," you say, turning your head slightly to look at her. "it’s intense, but it’s fun, right?"

hanni nods, her voice soft. "yeah, i love it. i think it’s one of our best routines."

there’s a pause, the kind that feels more like a breath than an interruption. she glances at you, and for a moment, everything feels lighter. like maybe this is enough—just talking, just being close like this.

"you’ve been doing great, by the way," you add quietly, eyes meeting hers, and suddenly both of you are all too hyperaware of how close and physical this is. "i know things have been weird, but i’m glad we’re good."

hanni swallows, her throat feeling tight as she stares at you. for a moment, she considers saying more, opening up about everything she’s been feeling. about how she’s been avoiding you because being close makes her too nervous, how danielle’s been pushing her to be honest, how she’s been daydreaming about you too much for her own good; she considers dropping the fact that she’s in love with you. but instead, she just gives you a small, appreciative smile.

"yeah," she whispers, her voice barely above a breath. "i’m glad too."

maybe it’s because it’s late and you’re too tired to keep pretending, sick of shrinking into some shell. maybe it’s because hanni is right there, looking like a dream, even more than that. maybe you’re young, stupid, and undeniably in love with her. the tension has been building all night, and before you can stop yourself, the words leave your lips, making your chest feel impossibly tight.

“i need to be honest with you,” you murmur, picking at your fingers beneath the blanket. “and you can pull away and leave after i say it.”

hanni frowns, sitting up slightly. “what?”

you swallow hard, the weight of your confession heavy in your throat. you sit up and put your face in your hands. “hanni, i like you. i like you the way people do in love songs. i like you like people yearn for each other in half the songs on your playlist. i don’t know any other way to say it, i’m—i’m sorry.”

there’s a beat of silence, a long, agonizing pause where you feel your heart shrinking into itself. hanni stares at you, her brows twitching, mouth slightly open, and all you can do is pray that this isn’t the moment everything falls apart.

“are you serious?”

you flinch. “i’m sorry—”

“no, no.” hanni shakes her head, turning away to stare up at the ceiling, hands covering her face. "i need a minute."

your heart shatters, the weight of rejection sinking deep. “hanni, i’m so sor—”

“don’t be.” she lifts her hands just enough to show her forehead, a wide smile breaking across her face. "oh my god. i like you too. i’ve been trying to tell you, i didn’t know how. danielle has been telling me to confess for weeks, but i was so scared."

your breath catches. "wait—seriously?"

hanni nods, still grinning, and suddenly everything shifts. the tension that had been suffocating you both breaks, leaving the air light and giddy. you both can’t look at each other for a moment, the sheer happiness boiling up inside making you fidget, trying to contain the laughter threatening to spill out. it’s a nice contrast from the (what seemed like) years of pining.

your hearts are pounding, faces flushed, and the awkward energy between you only makes it all the more real. now you’re both sitting next to each other like two middle schoolers in love—something like that—giddy, flustered, and shocked.

hanni glances at you through her lashes, then covers her face again, laughing softly. “i can’t believe this.”

“i can’t believe it either,” you admit, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

for a second, neither of you move. then, on a whim, you reach out and take her hand, the touch sending a rush of warmth through your body. hanni turns to you, her eyes meeting yours with that same mix of nervous excitement. it feels like time slows down, the world narrowing down to just the two of you. and before either of you can talk yourselves out of it, you lean in, your lips meeting hers in a soft, tentative kiss.

the world stops for a moment.

when you pull back, both of you are breathless, grinning like losers.

"oh my god," hanni says, eyes wide, voice barely above a whisper. “was that too quick? did we rush it?”

you laugh softly. "probably. but i think i would like, die if we hadn’t… yeah.”

without saying anything else, you both lay back down, facing each other on the bed, your fingers still intertwined. it feels easy now, like a weight has lifted, and the giddiness that lingers makes it impossible to stop smiling.

eventually, the talking fades, and you both drift off, tangled together, feeling a sense of peace that neither of you had realized you were missing.

everything feels right for the first time in weeks---hanni in your arms, your arms wrapped around hanni, being close to hanni, hanni close to you---and there's nothing that makes you happier in the moment.

[lomltrentarnold]

someone — jude bellingham  ₊˚ෆ

contents: 1.6k words, fem!reader (she/her), fwb!bellingham is down bad, lil angsty but happy ending, they like each other so much SIGH

🍓 hana’s note: hi my loves!! hope u enjoy <33 i actually had fun writing this, please tell me what u think 🫶 sorry if nothing makes sense LOL

📞 main masterlist!

Jude was sure that the muscle on his wrist had gotten stronger in the span of three days. He moved to check his phone again for the hundredth time that day. The whole situation feels like a thirteen year old boy waiting for his girlfriend to reply to his text. 

The only difference is that he’s twenty one years old, and his ‘girlfriend’ is not actually his girlfriend. 

His gloomy mood attracted his assistant who was off clicking the keyboard computer.

“Whose text are you waiting for?” they asked, immediately bringing him out of his little pity party.

His heart stuttered, “No one.” he replies, shaking his head, before tucking the phone away into his pocket.

A skeptical look was thrown, “Yeah, sure.” 

Jude took a minute before he relented, “She’s…someone.” he sighed, not really in the mood to throw up his gut to his assistant.

He ran his hands through his hair down to his face, frustrated.

They were sure this ‘someone’ was not just anyone, “The same ‘someone’ who had you giggling and kicking your feet last week?” his assistant smirked, noticing the little smile that Jude always wears every single time he stares at his phone.

But not in the last few days.

Recently, he has been more sad when he stares at his phone.

Heat trailed from the back of his neck to his cheeks, “I was not giggling and kicking my feet.” tummy twisting with nerves.

“Oh, you so were. She has you wrapped around her fingers, Bellingham.” the keyboard clicking stopped, as a teasing smirk was sent his way.

Jude’s heart made a backflip–oh she definitely does– “She’s just.. special. And I really really like her.” his cheeks heating up more as your pretty face fresh flashes in his mind. 

“So? Why don't you ask her out on a date?”

He sighed, “I would, but she’s ghosting me.”

“Someone ghosted THE Jude Bellingham? Damn, your ego must be hurt.” they laughed.

Jude took a deep breath, “It's not about my ego, I just–” he paused, “I thought we were going somewhere, I like her and I thought that she liked me but I guess...” his voice trailing out as sadness coats his words.

His assistant noticed how Jude’s head dropped in disappointment, immediately feeling bad for him, and an idea lightbulb immediately went off, “Go to her place then.”

“What?”

The assistant shrugged their shoulders, “Go to her place. Ask her out.”

He coughed out, “She doesn’t wanna see me.”

“Ask her face to face, get confirmation. If she really doesn’t wanna see you then, fine. But try at least! Fight for her!” their encouragement send Jude into a full dedicated state. Already having a full plan in his head.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Screen lights from the tv illuminated your already dark room with a movie playing in the background. You really should be asleep right now. But your mind was too cloudy with a certain, seriously attractive, very sweet and nice footballer. 

What did you think was gonna happen?

Getting into a friends-with-benefits with someone you harboured a big fat crush on was not the brightest idea. 

Jude is a bigshot footballer, everyones’ starboy, all he needs to do is smile and all girls fall to his feet (including you). The strategy of pushing him away was pretty solid, considering that he might not even notice that you haven’t been replying to his texts. 

He probably has hundreds of girls on his phone anyways.

Not that you care, he can do whatever he wants, he’s not your boyfriend. 

Not your boyfriend. 

Then why does it still bother you?

A sudden knock, broke you out of your spiralling session, shooting your heart rate up. Who knocks at 2 in the morning?

A buzz from your phone alerted you.

—

bellingham :)

I’m outside your apartment

I need to talk to you

—

You contemplated opening the door, what do you even say to him? Another knock. 

Another buzz.

—

bellingham :)

Please.

—

The door swung open and Jude was met with the sight of you, with tired eyes and a scowl on your face. You don't look too happy seeing him, and he doesn't blame you.

“Are you insane?! What do you want, Jude? It’s two in the morning!” you huffed out, taking his wrist and pulling him inside. You do not want to get a complaint from your old cranky neighbours. 

Both of your hands tingle the second it touches, fingers twitching as you hope the other doesn't notice. You move to pause the movie, hands gravitating towards the blanket on your couch before draping it around your shoulders. Trying to cover up your well-loved worn pyjamas.

You look like a mess. 

Jude’s hand sweats in his pockets, his heart was pounding after finally being in your presence. With your messy hair, pretty droopy eyes, paired with your profile being highlighted by the tv. His heart rate shoots up when your eyes meet his. 

You look really pretty.

Focus, Bellingham!

He awkwardly coughs, trying to cut the thick tension in the room, “You still watching that show?” he voiced out, hand gesturing to the tv behind you. 

It was a show recommendation from him. You had made fun of it at first, but then the plot was too good to be ignored, you needed to know how it ends. 

You shrugged your shoulders, “Yeah, I was curious.” voice small as your hands tightened around the blanket, bringing comfort to you.

A beat of awkward silence went on.

And Jude has had enough of it and decided to go for it, head first, no thoughts.

"Why are you ignoring me?" he finally said, saddened brown eyes met yours. You can feel your defence chip away the more you look at him.

You avert your eyes immediately, trying to formulate words, "I'm busy."

"That you ghosted me for three days straight?" he scoffed.

"Jude-"

"I don't think you understand how much you’re in my head." his voice shook, heart trembling in his chest, “I wake up and my first thought is to check if you have texted me back and you know how embarrassing it is to not see anything?"

You scoffed, “So this is about your ego?”

“No! I didn’t say that–“

Another scoff, "Jude don’t lie, you get messages every single day. Your notifications are always flooded! Don’t act like I’m suddenly special!” you rolled your eyes, lungs burning with anger.

His face contorted into confusion before turning into hurt, “Did I give you that impression? That I don't care because you’re not special?” Jude’s voice cracked, maybe it was your head playing tricks but you swore his eyes were glossy with tears. 

Anymore second looking at him than you might just break. 

“Jude-” you started.

“Because I do! I’ll buy you more flowers, pick up your favourite coffee, watch those reality shows that you love so much, we can have a picnic or even a fancy dinner!” he rambled, hands animated as his feet started to move towards you, eyes pleading. “I really want this to work. I want to be in your life, as your boyfriend.” 

The distance between two got so small that you can feel his warm breath hitting your lips, sending a shiver down your spine.

He smells like mint.

Did he chew one before he got here?

The call of your name hits your ears, his voice soft and sweet. You really like how he says your name. You miss it. You like him. You miss him.

“Please say something.” Jude whispered, eyes involuntarily dropping to your lips, cheeks warming under his gaze.

“I really really like you.” you softly said, nothing but a whisper but it sends just into cloud nine.

His eyes shined, mouth already opening to say something before you cut him off.

“But-“

His heart dropped.

“But?”

“Jude, you can literally have anyone you want in the world!” you raised your voice. Tears pricking at the edge of your eyes. Why does he have to be so complicated? Why won’t he understand that you will never be enough for him?

By now, he can have a general sense on why you ghosted him. You have been insecure and worried ever since this little relationship started. Jude partly understands it, his popularity is intense and the media is poking at every nook and cranny of his life. Judging at the littlest things he does.

But he also doesn’t understand because-

“But, I want you! Don’t want anyone else!” he exclaimed, big calloused hands move to the sides of your face, thumb softly running on your cheeks. “I want you.” he added, softly pressing a kiss at the apple of both of your cheeks.

A lovesick smile broke out on your face before you can even control yourself. “I want you too.”

Jude eyes twinkled at the sight. His heart elevates in the process. Was this a dream?

“Pinch me.” he snickered.

Your hands move around his waist to pinch his skin, “Dork.” you giggled, his smile getting wider at the sound.

A comforting silence blankets over you both. Smitten eyes staring at each other with heavy yearning. Hearts fully enamoured with the other.

A soft kiss was planted on your lips, tender and gentle as his hands moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. He can’t get enough of you.

Your whole body was on fire. It has been so long since you both got together.

“Jude-“

“Mhm.” he hummed, lips still pressing against yours. His hands wander to wrap around your waist. It feels like he wants to eat you whole.

He definitely does.

You carefully pull away, chuckling at the small whine that leaves him as he chases you again, “It’s late.” you affectionately scolded.

“Let’s go to sleep then.”

“Together?” you teased.

“Yes, please.”

Well, how can you say no to that?

reblog for a kiss <3