#their little expressions tore my heart out

[claramelooo]

WOVEN FATES (13/???)

A little bit more of this. I really think we deserve a break, right?

Enjoy <3

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Pairing: AgathaRio x Reader

Summary: being alone with Agatha was smoother than you imagined.

Fragile II

The studio was in a silent frenzy, like a living organism preparing for a moment of pure intensity.

Lights were being adjusted, cameras positioned at precise angles, microphones tested to capture every nuance of the pain about to unfold in the scene. Everyone knew this was the scene—the emotional climax of the story.

You sat in a corner of the set, watching everything with sharp eyes, feeling the charged energy in the air. The crew spoke in hushed tones, moving carefully so as not to break the bubble of concentration Wanda had created around herself.

Agatha stood at the center behind the cameras, the main crew gathered around her. Her long fingers toyed with the hem of her blouse, her square-framed glasses resting perfectly on the bridge of her sharp nose, highlighting her well-shaped brows, now drawn together in a small crease as she observed, analyzing every detail.

At the center of the stage, Wanda stood frozen in the doorway—too afraid to step inside and face her worst fear. The lighting cast harsh shadows that deepened the tragedy etched into her expression.

The set was devastating: the boys’ room was in disarray, colorful toys scattered everywhere, a toy car overturned near the door, the beds—messy in a way that felt wrong—held two small, familiar bodies.

Silence fell over the set like a heavy veil.

The scene began.

At first, Wanda only looked. Her eyes widened as if her mind refused to process what was in front of her. One hesitant step, then another. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. And then, it hit. The absolute recognition of loss.

A scream tore through the air.

It was a sound that made your stomach twist—something primal, ripped from the depths of the soul. A wail that couldn't be faked. Wanda threw herself over the bodies, her fingers trembling as they brushed over her children's pale faces.

"No, no, no… my babies…"

The words came out in choked sobs, her body shaking with despair. She rocked them gently, as if they could still wake up, as if there was still hope. But there wasn’t. And that realization shattered her before your eyes.

Her cries weren’t just acting—they were raw, visceral, something that made even the camera operators swallow hard. You hugged your own arms, feeling every word like a blow.

You wrote this scene. Deep down, you knew this was what you wanted. You wanted your mother to feel the pain of losing you—but it had been the complete opposite, hadn’t it?

You created this pain. But you never expected to see it like this, so real, so alive.

From across the room, you saw Agatha inhale sharply, her gaze sharpening as she watched. Her hands gripped the arms of her director’s chair tightly. As focused and composed as she was, when you looked at her, you found something rare—vulnerability.

Maybe it was Wanda’s performance, or maybe… maybe Agatha understood that kind of pain.

Thick tears ran down Wanda’s green eyes, her body curled protectively around children that were never truly hers. She buried her face in their hair, as if afraid they would disappear.

And your heart pounded in your chest, the air in the room growing thin.

Who was Wanda?

Her performance felt too real. It hurt.

“Mommy’s going to bring you back. She will… She’ll do whatever it takes.” Her voice broke, and in that moment, there was truth.

Tears burned at the back of your throat, desperate to escape. This—this was everything you had wanted.

This was it.

The words you had longed to hear. The ones you had waited for, in vain. But she never came back. She never fought for you.

So you had to save yourself.

And now, those words existed.

But they weren’t meant for you.

The knot in your throat tightened.

“Cut!” Agatha finally called out. The entire studio remained still for a few moments, as if no one was sure they were allowed to move, to breathe again.

Wanda remained on her knees, her breath still ragged, her eyes glistening with tears. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, the emotion vanished. Her breathing steadied, her shoulders squared, and the vulnerability disappeared behind a neutral, almost cold, expression.

She rose with a fluid motion, lifting her chin as she ran her fingers through her hair. A crew member rushed forward to hand her a plush robe, which she slipped on without hesitation, crossing her arms as if trying to push away any remnants of the scene she had just lived through.

Her forest-green eyes swept across the studio before briefly landing on Agatha, who gave a small nod of approval. Then, they found you.

You watched the shift in her demeanor with a weight in your chest.

How could someone break apart so completely, and then, in the next moment, act as if nothing had happened? The answer should have been simple: Wanda was a brilliant actress.

But for some reason, it felt like more than that. As if she had been trained to bury her emotions the moment they were no longer needed.

Without another glance, she turned on her heels and walked off the set, heading for her dressing room.

Before you could fully process everything that had just happened, Agatha’s assistant hurried over, clutching a tablet against her chest.

“Hey, can you take the twins for lunch? They need some time to relax before the next scene.”

You blinked, taking a second to register what she was asking.

Your gaze flickered toward the two boys sitting in foldable chairs, distractedly playing on their phones, oblivious to the emotional wreckage their last scene had left behind.

They were talented actors—but at the end of the day, they were still just kids.

“Yeah, of course.” Your voice came out softer than you intended.

The assistant smiled gratefully before hurrying off to handle something else.

You exhaled, the weight of an odd exhaustion settling on your shoulders. But your mind wasn’t completely here.

It was still stuck on Wanda.

On her eyes.

On the way the pain had felt real.

And how, suddenly, it didn’t anymore.

Sitting at a table with the twins, you finally felt like you could breathe. The studio’s in-house restaurant had a refined atmosphere, with rustic wooden tables and walls lined with framed posters of old films.

As you chewed your sandwich, you watched the boys devour their generous portions of mac and cheese, as if they hadn’t eaten in three days.

“So, how’d you guys get into acting?” you asked, taking a sip of your juice.

Twin #1 didn’t hesitate, pointing at his brother. “It was his fault. He wanted to be famous. I just went along because I’m a loyal brother.”

“Hey!” Twin #2 protested. “That’s not how it happened! I wanted a new video game, and my mom said she wasn’t going to waste money on that. Then, I saw a casting call for a commercial and thought, ‘Easy. I’m charming and good-looking, they’ll pick me right away!’”

You raised an eyebrow, resting your chin on your palm. “And did they?”

He rolled his eyes, shoving another bite of mac and cheese into his mouth. “Of course not. They picked him!” He pointed at his brother, pretending to be indignant.

Twin #1 grinned triumphantly. “But I made a brotherly pact and said I’d only take the role if they let him in too.”

The brother sighed. "And that's how I became an actor. I just wanted a PlayStation..."

You laughed, shaking your head. "And now here you are, the children of Hollywood’s biggest star."

"Yeah," Twin 2 said with his mouth full. "And I still haven't gotten my PlayStation."

Before you could continue the conversation, Agatha’s assistant approached, holding a tray with an elegantly packaged meal.

"Can you take Wanda’s lunch to her dressing room?"

You blinked, suspicious. "Huh? Me? That’s job stacking, you know. I’m a screenwriter, not a food delivery girl."

The assistant shrugged. "You’re an intern."

Your expression darkened instantly. You narrowed your eyes at her, as if thinking: If only she knew.

You knocked on the dressing room door without much patience, balancing the tray with Wanda’s lunch. "Come in!" her voice came from the other side, and you sighed, turning the doorknob.

The room was intimate. Warm lights illuminated the large mirror, surrounded by small bottles of makeup, a half-empty coffee cup, and a script covered in scribbled notes.

Wanda sat in the red velvet armchair, legs crossed, still draped in her plush robe. Her hair was slightly damp, as if she had quickly run a towel through it.

But her eyes? They were just as piercing as in the scene she had just filmed.

You walked over to a small table beside the mirror and set the tray down. "Your lunch."

Wanda tilted her head slightly, a small smile playing on her lips. "Is this part of your job too?"

You rolled your eyes. "Apparently, today it is. Need anything else, Your Highness?"

She chuckled, a low, soft sound. "I think I want company."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "Company..." You stopped, realizing she wasn’t joking. "You should’ve put that on your list of demands earlier. I’m just an intern."

"Oh, yes... An intern." Wanda ran her fingers along the arm of the chair, her gaze never leaving you. "But you’re not like the others, are you?"

Your body tensed at the way she said that, like she was studying you. "And what does that mean?"

"It means you’re getting special treatment, and we can’t let that continue, can we?" she said, standing up, walking toward you like a lioness.

"Wanda," you said in a warning tone, as if she knew the line she was about to cross with you.

"Tell me the truth. What do you have with them?"

The tension in the air became almost palpable, and for a moment, you had the impression that she could see beyond what was allowed. As if Wanda had the ability to pull the answers from you without needing to ask directly.

"I... I could ask you the same thing! After all, what were you doing at their house?" You crossed your arms, keeping a safe distance between you. However, you feared what Wanda's answer might be.

But the answer never came. The redhead just analyzed your face with curiosity, searching for something. A flaw.

Her green eyes slowly drifted down to the pendant on your necklace—the small silver lock glinting under the dressing room's warm light. It was a subtle detail, but one she didn’t miss.

Wanda tilted her head slightly, her expression wavering between curiosity and sudden understanding. Her eyes returned to yours, narrowed.

"Interesting..." she murmured, a small laugh escaping her lips. Before you could react, she stepped closer and took your hand.

Her touch was warm, her fingers gliding over yours with deliberate slowness. But then… she stopped. Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly, as if she had felt something unexpected. Her hand released yours as if she had been burned.

You blinked, confused, watching as Wanda clenched her fingers, her gaze distant for a brief second.

And then, she laughed. Low, almost humorless, shaking her head as if she had finally understood something.

"You really have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into." She let out a disbelieving chuckle. "Go."

The word came as a sharp command. Wanda gave a half-smile, but her eyes said something else—as if she was considering something, pondering over you.

You hesitated. You didn’t know if you wanted to ask what she meant by that or if you should just turn around and leave. But the weight of her gaze made it hard to move.

After all, what had Wanda seen in you?

Leaving the dressing room, you sighed. The day had been so intense and chaotic, and you felt like you desperately needed to rest.

Your phone vibrated in the pocket of your shorts, and you already knew who it was.

Agatha.

My trailer.

You swallowed hard, feeling your palms sweat. You knew you should be used to interacting with Agatha by now, but your mommy could be unpredictable. That both scared and hypnotized you equally.

Without thinking twice, your feet carried you to her trailer. You opened the door slowly, peeking inside, expecting a disapproving glare or a reprimand.

But instead, you found Agatha sprawled on the divan, barefoot, with the same relaxed posture you saw at home every day, her eyes half-lidded as if lost in distant thoughts.

"Come here, baby." Her voice was lower, almost a whisper.

You hesitated but approached, sitting beside her on the divan. She slid her fingers over your wrist gently, as if checking if you were really there. Then, her eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw something different in them.

Something more... tender.

"I missed my baby," she murmured with a small smile, her hand reaching for your cheek, the touch warm and comforting.

Your heart clenched at the unexpected confession. You looked away, feeling warmth rise to your face. "I thought I did something wrong."

She chuckled softly, shaking her head. "You worry too much about that. Not everything is punishment, my dear. Sometimes, I just... need you close."

The confession caught you off guard. She didn’t say things like that. Not like this.

Silence settled between you, thick, until Agatha let out a long sigh and lay back on the divan, her gaze lost on the ceiling.

"Sometimes, I find myself wondering how lonely you must have felt." Her voice was lower now, but it carried weight.

You turned your head to look at her, but she was still staring at the ceiling.

"Everything you wrote," she continued, twirling her finger in the air in a vague gesture. "That’s a lot for a girl like you, sweetheart."

You let out a brief, almost humorless laugh. "There are thousands of girls like me, Aggie."

The nickname slipped out before you thought too much, a test. It hung in the air between you, soft, intimate.

She blinked slowly but didn’t comment. Her mind seemed far away.

"No." Agatha whispered. "Not to me."

You held your breath.

She finally turned to you, her expression carrying a kind of confusion that seemed to unsettle her. "I just… I don’t understand how she let you go."

Oh.

You understood.

Slowly, you turned onto your side, lying down next to her, your gaze fixed on the ceiling, ignoring how her eyes were still on you.

Talking about it was never easy. In fact, you weren’t even sure you could put it all into words.

She didn’t leave me all of a sudden," you began, your voice low. "It wasn’t a dramatic abandonment, nothing that felt movie-worthy. It was slow… almost imperceptible."

Agatha didn’t say anything, just watched, waiting for you to continue.

"At first, it was the little things. She forgot to pick me up from school. Forgot to buy my favorite candies. Then, she started spending more time away from home. She’d say she was coming back, but she wouldn’t. And I saw my dad losing his mind because of it." You let out a small, humorless laugh. "Until one day, she just didn’t come back."

The silence in the trailer seemed to stretch.

"I was five," you murmured, the bitter taste of the memory lingering on your tongue. "I had to put my dolls aside and learn how to cook, how to take care of myself. To be an adult before I even understood what that meant."

Agatha didn’t look away. Her eyes, so blue and always full of secrets, were soft now.

"You shouldn’t have gone through that," she said, her voice gentler than usual.

You let out a short, dry laugh. "But I did. And there was no one to stop it."

She took a deep breath, a gesture that felt heavy with something deeper. "And your father?"

You shook your head. "He was never exactly present. He worked too much. We were six kids. He had to make the American Dream happen." You stated rationally, but you didn’t even realize how unsteady your voice was. "I can even understand him. I can understand her, too. No woman should be forced to go through so much."

You were crying. Your lips trembled, unconsciously pulling downward.

"No," Agatha whispered, her voice firm yet strangely soft. She leaned forward slightly, just enough for your eyes to meet. "Don’t try to understand them. Don’t look for justifications. Just… feel this pain. This anger."

You stared at her. Above you, she looked like a dark oracle, an expert in what she was saying.

"You were alone all that time."

"I always was."

"You’re not anymore."

This time, there was nothing enigmatic in her blue eyes. They were open, intense, filled with a vulnerability you didn’t know she possessed.

She took your hand, feeling the soft, pink palm against her own. "Do it." She wasn’t looking at you, and that made her even more beautiful. "And maybe I’ll ask you to make me a list of your favorite candies."

"Oh. The mean director is being more understanding of the intern’s need for sweets, huh?" you teased, even with your eyes still full of tears and vulnerability.

She hummed, kissing your forehead and sighing against your hair. "Only because it’s you, darling."

The warmth of her kiss on your forehead lingered even after her lips had pulled away. Such a simple gesture, yet heavy enough to make your chest tighten again.

You closed your eyes for a moment, absorbing that rare moment of softness. No matter how fierce, dominant, or cruel Agatha could be, there were lapses when she simply… was.

No masks, no ulterior motives. Just Agatha.

"If I’m an exception," you murmured, your eyes still closed, "then I think I should take advantage of it."

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah." You opened your eyes, turning to look at her with a playful glint. "Does that mean we can have pizza for dinner?"

Agatha sighed theatrically, but you caught the shadow of a smile on her lips. "You really have no limits, do you?"

"Of course, I do," you said, resting your head on the arm of the couch, your eyes shining with amusement. "Pizza just isn’t one of them."

She let out a quiet chuckle and gracefully got up from the chaise lounge, grabbing her phone to check the time. "I’m picking the flavors."

"As long as it’s nothing with artichokes, I’m in," you replied, closing your eyes again, exhausted but comfortable.

And after that, the day felt lighter, and before you knew it, it was time to leave, and you were already getting into Agatha’s car at the usual bus stop.

[...]

The movie was halfway through, the screen’s glow casting soft shadows across the trailer. Fight Club was a classic that both of you, surprisingly, loved—the intensity of the story always sparked discussions about identity, control, and desire. But at that moment, a comfortable silence settled between you.

You were chewing on a piece of pizza, nestled against the cushions on the couch, feeling the weight of the day finally melt away.

Until your phone vibrated beside you.

A message.

Alice: "Are you coming?"

You stopped chewing, staring at the screen for a moment.

Agatha’s gaze remained fixed on the movie, but you noticed the way her jaw tensed slightly.

"Who is it?" she asked, not taking her eyes off the screen.

You swallowed the bite of pizza and cleared your throat. "Alice. She invited me to a party tonight."

Agatha lowered her gaze for a moment. "Hm." The response was neutral, but the tension in the air said otherwise. "And are you going?"

The question felt like a test.

You hesitated.

Should you go?

Alice was your friend, and you knew the party would probably be fun. Right? You’d dance, meet her friends. But the day had been long. And more than that, something about Agatha’s posture felt just as vulnerable as you did.

"No." You shrugged, grabbing another slice of pizza. "I had a long day. I’ll stay here with you, Mommy."

The sparkle in her blue eyes was instant.

She didn’t smile. She didn’t say anything. She just took another sip of her diet soda without looking at you. But you knew you had hit exactly where you wanted.

Her heart.

You opened the chat and typed:

"Hey. I’m really tired today. How about another time? :)"

Before you even sent it, you felt Agatha’s gaze on you. When you looked up to meet her eyes, she simply raised an eyebrow, looking pleased.

The silence between you was comfortable, only the sound of running water and the soft glide of a toothbrush filling the space.

After the movie, Agatha was sitting at the vanity, legs crossed in front of the mirror, spreading lotion over her arms with slow, meticulous movements.

You watched her through the reflection, her skin still damp from the shower, hair loose over her shoulders. She looked calm, lost in her own thoughts.

You spat the foam into the sink, rinsed your mouth, and wiped your lips before speaking:

"You know, you never talk about your past either."

Agatha paused for a moment but didn’t look up.

Before she could say anything, you added:

"The past before Mama."

She closed the jar of lotion slowly, her fingers still tracing the lid as if they needed something to do. "There’s not much to say."

"There is." You turned, leaning against the vanity and crossing your arms. "And I’d like to hear it."

Agatha finally lifted her eyes to meet yours. The blue of them seemed darker under the dim bedroom light. She hesitated for a moment, as if weighing whether it was worth giving in to your curiosity.

"My mother…" She began, her voice lower than usual. "She was a difficult woman. Rigid and unpredictable."

You frowned, taking in every word.

"She had… rules. Lots of rules. I learned early on that love wasn’t free. That there were conditions."

Your chest tightened upon hearing that. You knew that cruel logic better than you would like.

"And your father?" you asked, your voice soft.

Agatha averted her gaze to her own hands, pressing her fingers together. "It doesn't matter."

You took a deep breath, stepping toward her. "Nothing was easy for you either."

She let out a humorless chuckle. "Easy was never something I expected."

Silence fell between you for a moment. You felt like you were treading on delicate ground, but you didn’t want to stop.

"Have you ever thought about—"

"Enough." Her voice came sharp, cutting. You froze.

Agatha stood up abruptly. Her eyes were dark now, the previous vulnerability replaced by something much colder.

"I'm not your curiosity project, darling."

"That’s not what I meant," you argued, feeling frustration rise.

"But that’s how it sounded."

She said, walking to the bed without looking at you. She lay down, the thick sheets swallowing her, and your chest sank.

You sighed, feeling the weight of silence crush your shoulders. You didn’t mean to push so hard. You knew Agatha didn’t handle these things well—being looked at so closely, having someone trying to decipher her.

But you wanted so badly to understand her.

With a sigh, you turned off the lights and walked to the bed, hesitating for a moment before slipping under the sheets. She lay with her back to you, her body rigid, as if still in defense mode.

"I'm sorry." Your voice came out low, hesitant. "I shouldn’t have pushed."

She didn’t respond.

Silence stretched on, and you forced yourself to close your eyes, trying to calm your racing heart. Then, after minutes that felt like hours, Agatha finally broke the silence.

"It's her fault."

You frowned, opening your eyes. She was still facing away, looking out the window, but her voice was heavy with something that made your heart clench.

"It's because of her that I'm like this. Harsh. Severe. Mean."

The last word came out harder than the others, as if she truly believed it.

And then, without even thinking, you said:

"You're not mean."

Your voice was firm but filled with emotion; it felt like a spell of confidence and love.

That made her finally turn to you. Your eyes met hers, intense and full of something you couldn't decipher.

For a moment, everything seemed suspended. As if the air was thick between you, charged with something too big to name.

Suddenly, you missed Rio.

Someone to mediate. Someone who knew how to handle the hurricane that was Agatha Harkness.

But Rio wasn’t there.

It was just you and Agatha, navigating a sea of unspoken words.

You and her.

You and Agatha.

She furrowed her brows, letting out a disbelieving chuckle before closing her eyes, as if trying to ignore you and all the nonsense you were saying.

"You don’t know what you’re talking about."

But you did.

You had gotten so much from her in just one night, and that feeling wouldn’t go away. It only grew, like a plant pushing through the cracks of concrete.

You took a risk once more.

"You're not mean, Aggie. You just accepted the role she imposed on you."

And just like that.

She went still.

For a few seconds, it seemed like Agatha didn’t know how to react.

You moved closer, feeling her breath brush against your skin. Neither of you knew what to say now. Neither of you knew what to do with this closeness.

Your lips brushed against each other.

The touch was almost accidental, but you felt the softness, the warmth of her breath against your mouth.

And then you made the move.

It was a kiss of gratitude.

For everything she did today and always. How she took care of you. How she cherished you.

It was intimate.

Unique.

Agatha didn’t pull away. On the contrary, you felt her fingers slowly glide over your face, holding it with a gentleness that didn’t match the hardened image she insisted on maintaining.

When her lips finally responded to yours, it was like a relieved sigh in the darkness.

And for the first time that night, you felt that maybe, just maybe, you were seeing the real Agatha Harkness.

The first tear slipped down before she could stop it.

You caught it with your lips, salty and warm, as your hands trailed down the valley of her ribs like a pilgrim on sacred land.

"You're so beautiful," you whispered against the pulse where her past throbbed in blue veins.

Courage filled you, perhaps from the confidence of seeing this powerful woman surrendering entirely to you. Your fingers slid lower, to where she was wet and perfect.

The beautiful woman, with her robe completely open, her medium-sized breasts and hardened nipples exposed, made you salivate. And you simply couldn’t resist. Your mouth found her perfect nipples, drawing a sharp inhale from her below you.

"Honey..." Her skilled hands found your hair, long fingers threading through the strands, tangling them—urging you to go deeper, to savor the feeling.

The emotion that took over you was dangerous. Forbidden. You shouldn’t feel like this… Capable of impossible things. But when Agatha was moaning beneath you, writhing and encouraging you to give her more, that’s exactly how you felt.

Desire consumed you like a flame that couldn’t be contained. You moved, adjusting yourself over Agatha, your legs intertwining with hers in a fluid, natural motion. The scissoring position—intimate, intense—placed you face to face, breaths mingling.

"Mommy," you moaned, voice needy, lips brushing hers as your bodies aligned, clits pressing together in a hot, wet friction.

"Fuck." Agatha let out a low sound, almost a choked moan, her hands gripping your hips tightly. "My good girl," she murmured, her voice rough, laden with something that made your stomach tighten.

You started moving, slowly at first, rubbing against her in a rhythm that made both your bodies tremble. The sensation was electrifying—the heat, the wetness, the perfect friction. You felt every shudder of Agatha, every ragged breath she released.

"Just like that..." she whispered, fingers digging into your hips, guiding your movements. "You're so good for me, darling." Her sharp cheekbones flushed with arousal. "Oh. God—Fuck!"

Your heart raced at her words, the reverence and desire blending into an overwhelming wave. You quickened the pace, bodies colliding with growing intensity. Agatha’s breathing became faster, more labored, and you felt her heat rising, the slickness dripping between you.

"You're perfect," you murmured, lips finding hers in a deep, devouring kiss. "So beautiful, mommy. All mine."

Agatha arched her back, pressing her breasts against your torso, her hardened nipples grazing your skin. Her hands roamed down your back, nails digging slightly, leaving marks you knew you’d wear with pride.

She claimed your lips, thrusting her tongue in deep, the movements rough and filthy. A woman who needed to take and be taken. The kiss had no meaning anymore, just a mess of teeth, tongues, and bites.

When you pulled away, a thick string of saliva connected you.

"More," she ordered, her voice a low growl that echoed through your ribs. "Give it to me, darling." Your sweaty foreheads pressed together. "Give mommy everything."

You obey, quickening the pace, your bodies moving in perfect sync. The room fills with wet sounds—high-pitched, needy moans and the soft creak of the bed. Agatha is close; you feel it in the way her muscles tense, in the way her fingers dig into your flesh.

"I’m gonna—" She chokes, her face buried in your neck, teeth grazing your skin. "Fuck— Baby, you’re gonna make… make mommy come.”

The drawn-out, desperate whine is your breaking point. You move faster, thrusting deeper, grinding against her with an intensity that makes both your bodies tremble, as if you’d fused into one. Because you did—you followed her right over the edge.

The orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, your bodies arching and shaking in wild, unrestrained desperation as she muffles your name into the sheets.

You don’t stop, keeping the rhythm, prolonging every ripple of pleasure until she collapses, exhausted and spent, against the mattress.

When you finally still, you lower yourself over her, lips meeting hers in a soft, tender kiss. Agatha wraps her arms around you, holding you like she never wants to let go.

"My good girl," she whispers, her voice gentle, laced with something that makes your chest tighten. "My sweet girl."

You curl into her, breathing in the warmth of her skin, the scent of her perfume mingling with sweat and sex.

"That was…" She inhales sharply, trying to steady her breath. "So good."

You laugh, humming in agreement, nuzzling into her chest. But your stomach still buzzes. More of her. More of Agatha.

You kiss her collarbone, and she shudders, oversensitive.

"Baby," she gasps, fingers tangling in your hair, gently tugging you back. "Mommy’s too sensitive right now."

But you don’t want to stop. Can’t. The need for Agatha still burns in you, a flame that refuses to die. You shake your head, lips finding her breast again, kissing every inch of skin you can reach.

You murmur a muffled sound, your voice hoarse and thick with want.

Agatha lets out a laugh mixed with a whimper, her grip tightening in your hair. "My insatiable little girl," she whispers, her voice soft, laced with something that makes your pulse race.

You don’t answer, too focused on exploring her body with eager hands and lips. Your fingers slide down Agatha’s trembling thighs, tracing the slick, swollen folds still wet and tender.

"Baby…" She arches, fingers knotting in your hair. "You’ll kill me."

"I’ll take care of my mommy," you whisper, lips brushing the soft skin of her inner thigh, nipping gently. "So you’ll never have to cry again."

Agatha moans low, her grip on your hair tightening. "My good girl," she rasps, her voice frayed with something that twists your stomach. "So… so precious."

You keep going, fingers gliding over her slick heat, electrified by the power to make Agatha shatter, to strip her of control.

The broken, needy whine she lets out undoes you. You speed up, thrusting deeper, grinding against her with a ferocity that makes both your bodies quake.

Agatha gasps as your middle and ring fingers slide into her entrance—slow, deliberate, a procession, not an invasion. Her body opens like a night-blooming flower, drenched in dew and secrets.

"Slow…" she orders, but her trembling voice gives her away. "Mommy needs to feel… everything."

You obey. Your thumb circles her clit while your fingers curl inch by inch, seeking the spot that makes her legs shake.

"Like this, mommy?" You kiss her neck, where her perfume mixes with sweat. "Want me to worship every part she’ve ruined?"

Her answer comes in silent spasms. Her nails claw your shoulder, leaving half-moon crescents blooming red.

Then you quicken the pace.

The room fills with slick symphonies. Your fingers move at a precise angle now, a deep massage she’d never allow in any other context. Her head thrashes wildly, as if even she doesn’t know what’s coming, her chestnut hair fanning like a shattered halo.

"P-please…" The plea is choked, almost pained.

You pause, fingers still inside her. Stunned that the word left her lips. Agatha turns her face away, her icy-blue eyes glossed with unshed tears.

"Please, baby. Mommy’s begging."

Fuck.

It destroys you. Destroys whatever shred of sanity you had left.

Your wrist twists in an ancient rhythm—fast, slow, fast again. The bed creaks in Morse code. She’s close; you feel it in the way her muscles clench like a fist around your fingers.

"Baby, I’m gonna— Oh. God! Fuck, that’s—"

Before she can finish, the orgasm splits her in two. Her furious blue eyes roll back, hips bucking, trembling legs locking around your waist.

Hot pulses soak your hand, the sheets drowning in wave after wave. You hold her hips aloft, dragging out every spasm until she screams.

You don’t stop, moving relentlessly, stretching every aftershock until she collapses, wrecked and full, into the mess.

"Fuck, baby!"

You keep going. Just a little more. Just to prove what you do to her. That she’s as ruined as you are.

"Oh my god. God. Again!" The laugh that spills from your lips is cocky, like you’ve won a marathon. "You’re ruining me." She moans loud, and suddenly you wish your other mommy were here. She’d be proud, you can tell.

You leave your fingers buried inside her even after the second climax, studying every tremor that racks her body like a hunter assessing prey. Sweat drips between your pressed breasts, your breath mixing with hers in a haze of possession.

"Do you even know what you do to me, mommy?" you whisper against her thigh, teeth sinking into soft flesh. Your voice cracks, a plea disguised as a taunt.

Agatha tries to turn her face, but you grip her chin hard. The tears streaking your own cheeks drip onto her chest.

"Say it. Say you’re as fucked up as I am."

She laughs—a raw, desperate sound—as her legs quiver around your waist. "You little fucking piece of shit…" she snarls, but the heaving of her stomach betrays the truth.

You curl your fingers inside her, finding her G-spot with the precision of someone who’s memorized every inch of this territory. "Say it."

The moan she lets out is nearly a howl. "Yes! Yes, fuck! Happy now?! You make me… make me insane, you psychotic little slut—From the goddamn beginning."

You speed up, turning words into animal sounds. "How much?"

Agatha grabs your wrists, nails drawing blood. "To the bone. To the soul. Until I forget what I am—"

The third orgasm plows through her. She writhes like a wounded animal, fluids dripping down your hand like a river of shame and surrender.

You watch, hypnotized, as the woman who shaped your private hell unravels under your touch.

"Look at me," your voice is steel, yanking her hair until her tear-drenched blue eyes meet yours. "You wanted this all along? From the moment you saw me? Huh?"

Her trembling lips form the answer in slow motion: Yes. Fuck. Yes. My sick little slut. Your innocence. Your youth. Your energy. You’re mine!

The laughter that escapes your throat is wet, triumphant. You lick her fluids from your fingers, maintaining eye contact, each suck a period in your private war.

When you collapse onto her, it's Agatha who envelops your burning body, her hand tangled in your hair like diamond shackles. "You destroy me," she whispers into your neck, tongue licking the salt from your tears. "And I let you. God, I let you."

You slowly retract your fingers, bringing them to your own mouth without breaking eye contact. The taste is amber and electricity.

"Hmmm, delicious, mommy," you say, now completely unfiltered, and she lets out a breathless laugh.

"You are unbelievable."

You chuckle, burying your face in her cleavage. "But you loved it."

"I tolerate it," she corrects, but you feel the hidden smile at the top of your head. "Besides, who’s going to explain to the staff what happened to the sheets?"

"Mama's fault?" You look up with a cute pout and puppy-dog eyes.

"It's your fault," she rolls her eyes, trying to maintain her tough facade, but there’s a small, genuine smile peeking through. "You and that… finger technique you learned God-knows-where."

"On the internet. I watched some videos on Pornhub, you know, with MILFs and everything." You almost unconsciously mimic Rio’s accent, and Agatha rolls her eyes.

Agatha pushes your face away with the palm of her hand, laughing despite herself. "You're insufferable."

"But you adore me."

"I tolerate you," she repeats, but pulls you back into an embrace. "And maybe… I should give the staff a raise."

You snuggle into her neck, smiling against her skin. "We can say it was an accident with the tea," you suggest, knowing Agatha’s passion for drinking tea at night.

"Two boiling cups of tea on my king-size bed?" She wets her lips with her tongue, the corners pulling into an ironic smile.

"They were very aroused cups. They couldn’t help themselves."

Agatha lets out a grunt, but her fingers trace soft circles on your back. "You’re the worst intern I’ve ever had."

"And best and only baby?" You blink several times, turning up your charm.

The silence lasts half a second too long. You lift your head, worried, but find her soft blue eyes—now with a hint of green bleeding into the irises, mixing with the sky blue—almost… shy.

"Maybe," she murmurs, covering her face with her hand, pushing your body off the bed. "Now shut up and get me some water before I change my mind." Her voice ends in a dry rasp.

You leap from the bed, naked and disheveled, striking a superhero pose. "Sparkling or still, your highness?"

"With ice. And… bring my phone and the ice cream from the freezer."

"Ice cream!" You cheer, jumping, bumping into a chair, and nearly knocking over a lamp.

"Rum raisin!" she calls over her shoulder, already adjusting her robe with royal dignity.

"But I don’t like that one!" you grumble with a pout.

"I pay, I choose."

You pout but don’t argue. You knew Agatha well enough to know she always won these little battles.

As you walk to the kitchen, you feel the lingering warmth on your skin, as if her presence had left an invisible mark on you. And maybe it had.

Opening the freezer and grabbing the damned rum raisin ice cream, you roll your eyes. Of course Mommy would choose this flavor. So… old. But deep down, you loved her demanding ways. She always knew exactly what she wanted—and now, that included you.

With the water and ice cream in hand, you return to the bedroom and find Agatha reclining on the bed, glasses perched on the tip of her nose, the blue glow of her phone screen reflecting on her face. She was texting, probably Mama. Or maybe firing someone—who knew.

She looks up at you, assessing your nakedness with a gaze almost too clinical to be innocent, before letting out an exasperated sigh.

"I should scold you for walking around like that in the house."

You smile, setting the things on the nightstand before crawling back into bed, nestling against her. "But you love it."

"I tolerate it," she corrects automatically, but the arm around your body tightens just a little more, contradicting her words.

She picks up the ice cream and the spoon, but instead of eating, her eyes glimmer with mischief. "Want a bite?"

You wrinkle your nose. "Rum raisin? That tastes like old people."

"Oh. You cheeky thing. Have you ever tasted old?"

A mischievous grin spreads across your face. You arch your eyebrows, pretending to think.

"Well…"

"Argh, your Mama is influencing you too much," Agatha exclaims, feigning indignation, but there’s an indulgent smirk behind her accusatory words.

"Taste it," she says, holding the spoon to your lips, challenging. "If I have to tolerate you, you can at least share my impeccable taste."

You roll your eyes but comply. As soon as the ice cream touches your tongue, the strong rum flavor takes over, and you regret it instantly.

"Ugh!" You make an exaggerated grimace. "This is horrible!"

Agatha laughs out loud, a rare and genuine sound.

And, for some reason, hearing that uninhibited, unrestrained laugh does something to you. Without thinking much, you snuggle closer, resting your head against her chest.

She hesitates for a moment—a second too long for someone like Agatha Harkness—but then, without a word, she wraps her arm around you, her body warm and firm against yours.

The silence that settles this time is different. Comfortable.

You close your eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat beneath your ear, inhaling the familiar scent of lavender and something warmer, something more Agatha.

You stay like that, breathing together, letting the world outside wait.

Then, in a soft, almost distracted tone, Agatha murmurs against your hair:

"I adore you, darling."

Oh.

Your heart stumbles for a second, a beat out of sync.

You pull back just enough to look into her eyes, gaze locked with hers.

And then, with a small—but genuine—smile, you answer, voice low but full of certainty:

"I know."

And you did. After what happened today, maybe Aggie had shown it beyond words.

Just for you.

She rolls her eyes, but you catch the corner of her mouth curling into a little smile.

And that’s enough.

~*~

I always wanted say theses words to Agatha. She really wasn't that bad. You aren't bad, my readers and I hope you know that <3

Tag List <3

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[lokimobius]

"I've gotta go see what exactly it is we've been protecting for all this time." "Are you scared?" "Oh, yeah."

[pureomi]

˚୨୧⋆｡🍓˚ in which: itoshi sae feels inferior to itoshi rin; even if for just a moment

includes: itoshi sae! x fem reader. 1.7k wc. fluff and humour (i promise the title is just dramatic). silly itoshi brothers but we love them. kind of ooc rin. includes some swearing but it's meant to be lighthearted <3

itoshi rin being sick was somehow more of an inconvenience to sae than it was to rin himself. his brother falling ill during his stay at sae’s place was already a disgusting coincidence. now, sae had to watch the unfortunate scenes unfold in front of him without a choice.

“woah, you’re burning up, rin,” your voice filled the room, holding the thermometer up to check it again, your voice laced with concern. rin only nodded, his quiet nature amplified by the haze of his fever. his half-lidded eyes and flushed cheeks made him look pitiful, almost drowsy.

to sae, it was nauseating how pathetic he looked—and worse, how effective it was.

“here, i got you medicine,” you said, helping him sit up from a lying position. “say ahh,” you sang sweetly, holding an ibuprofen capsule to rin’s lips and following up with a glass of water. he obediently parted his lips without a word, swallowing with a slight grimace but no complaints.

meanwhile, sae stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, scowling like a cat. rin must have it so damn good right now, he thought bitterly. crashed out on his bed, coughing like a mess, and worst of all—being pampered by you! him spreading germs all over the room was annoying enough, but the fact that you were doting on him? that was the real problem. sure, rin was sick, but did you have to treat him like royalty? it made sae feel almost childish how much it irked him. he knew you were just being you—kind, caring, and attentive. you weren’t a complete jerk like sae; of course, you’d take care of your boyfriend’s little brother.

but still, the sight of you meticulously adjusting rin’s pillow, tucking him snugly into the blanket you and sae usually shared, and gently brushing his hair out of his face like he was some spoiled kid—it was enough to drive sae up the wall. and if all that wasn't bad enough, now you were feeding him. feeding him.

rin opened his mouth again without so much as a sigh, his quiet compliance somehow making the scene even worse. sae glared as you dabbed the corner of rin’s mouth with a tissue, your expression always remaining soft and tender.

sae’s patience finally cracked as he scoffed. “pick up your own damn spoon,” he muttered under his breath.

you finally tore your gaze from rin to look at sae, laughing lightly. “it’s okay, sae. he’s sick. it doesn’t bother me.” it didn’t bother you, but it sure as hell bothered him. watching rin quietly accept another spoonful while sae fumed in the corner felt like a fresh insult every second.

“is the soup good? i tried my best,” you asked, giving the bowl another stir, awaiting his answer. your expression was so stupidly expectant that it effortlessly tugged at sae’s heart. rin, naturally, noticed the way his older brother’s jaw tightened from the corner of his eye, sae’s glare sharp enough to cut through steel—nonverbally screaming at him to be nice. rin wasn’t dumb—he knew better than to even consider giving a bad review of your cooking, especially with sae simmering in his spot by the door. and besides, the soup was actually delicious. “it’s good,” rin said, glancing at you. he took another spoonful for good measure, his movements deliberately slow, before adding, “it’s like our mom’s cooking.”

your face lit up instantly, a warm smile spreading across your lips. “i’m glad! good thing i asked for her recipe,” you shared, feeling accomplished. then, after a thoughtful pause, rin continued, “nii-chan should try some.” that last line, paired with the smallest, almost imperceptible smirk tugging at rin’s lips as he subtly shifted his posture toward sae, was so perfectly calculated it could’ve been a soccer play. rin didn’t even bother looking at his brother; he didn’t need to. the strained silence from sae’s corner was reward enough.

sae’s knuckles flexed against the doorframe, his patience wearing thinner than ever. try some? was rin actually inviting him to participate in this ridiculous display? no way in hell. you turned to sae with an inviting smile, completely oblivious to the brewing tension. “sae, you can have some if you want. i made more just in case…” his eyes flickered to you for a moment, and he opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a quiet, disgruntled, “i’m fine.”

rin didn’t look up, but his breath released ever so slightly faster—barely perceptible—like he was holding back laughter. and yet, rin wasn’t done being petty. he shifted slightly under the blanket, letting out a low sigh that seemed almost contemplative. “my back hurts.”

he murmured quietly, drawing out the words just enough to give them weight. his gaze flicked briefly to sae—long enough for him to notice—before turning to you with a soft, almost too-casual tone.

“i think i need a massage.”

before sae could even process the audacity, you were already setting the soup aside. “oh no! here, turn around—” “it’s fine,” sae absolutely snaps, stepping forward and snatching you up from the bed. he firmly guided you toward the door. “i got him. just bring a hot towel, will you?” “huh? oh, okay…” you blinked, a bit startled by his sudden intervention, but nodded. “if you need anything—anything—just call, okay?”

you shot rin a sympathetic look as you left, sae’s hand still firm on the small of your back until you were out the door.

the moment the door clicked shut, it was as if rin’s back was in pristine condition—like he was born with the perfect spine. he sat up straight, stretching with ease, his back suddenly requiring nothing but a headboard to rest on. sae responded with nothing except his expression, his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer. without a word, sae lifted his leg and dug a kick square to rin’s back. “what the fuck?!” rin hissed, flinching forward. “back pain, huh?” sae asked flatly, mocking his claims. “you’re too old to be attention-seeking, dumbass,” he said, giving him another shove with his foot. “go back to okaasan, since you like being babied so much.” “fuckin’ hypocrite,” rin kicked back with both legs, shoving sae’s leg away with surprisingly good strength for someone whose supposed bones were crackling just a second ago. “you’re the one fuming for her attention.” sae rolled his eyes, unable to accept the fact that he was probably right. “she’s my girlfriend, you fucker,” despite the possibility, he defends, his voice sharper now. “and yet here you are,” rin said smugly, leaning back against the headboard, “competing with a sick kid.” sae opened his mouth to retort but froze. damn it. he was competing. and somehow, rin was winning.

“here’s the towel—” you finally walked in, but not without sensing the tension hanging in the air. “did something happen?…” you quickly remarked, in a suspicious manner. “no.” both rin and sae responded in perfect unison, their tone almost too quick, too practiced. you couldn’t help but feel like you were the only one who wasn’t in on whatever strange, silent competition they were having.

“rin’s feeling better,” sae suddenly spoke out, his voice way too casual, as he bolted for the door. “call if you need anything.” “ah, okay…” you blinked, eyes lingering on him watching him go before shaking your head. maybe you did imagine that awkwardness.

you quickly turned your attention back to rin and handed him the towel. “you should get some rest. i’ll attend to some chores.” rin gave a quiet nod, already looking more comfortable with the towel draped over him. you gave him a smile, relieved to see him at least looking better, before stepping out of the room. you found sae in the kitchen, carefully dishing out a bowl of soup. the act was too adorable; you couldn’t resist. you snuck up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist in a gentle backhug. “what do you want?” sae asked, his voice trying to sound neutral, but you could hear the softness underneath it. you rested your chin on his shoulder, feeling his warmth, and smiled. “why are you sulking?” you asked softly, your tone full of concern. “i’m not,” sae replied, though the words came out more quietly than he intended, a little hint of frustration still there. you could feel his tension, so you just squeezed him a little tighter, letting the silence settle for a beat. “i know you’re worried,” you said, voice gentle and sincere, “but it’s okay. he’ll be fine. i’m making sure of it.” sae remained quiet for a moment, but there was something different in the way his shoulders eased under your touch. he wasn’t used to this kind of reassurance, but somehow it always worked.

there was always something disarming about your presence, the way you seemed to understand him without asking for anything in return. he didn’t quite know what to do with this feeling—this overwhelming need to just be close to you. without making any effort to break the hug, sae's hands gently moved to rest on yours. he turned slightly so he could look at you, his eyes soft and filled with something tender you couldn't quite place. there was a subtle shift as he leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. he paused, just for a moment, before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. the kiss lingered longer than usual, a silent reassurance in the simple gesture. “i’m not worried,” sae whispered firmly, trying his best to rely his feelings. “since you’re taking care of him, i’ll just take care of you.” you blinked, your chest tightening with warmth at his words. it was rare for sae to lose his guard, and in these moments, his affection always spoke far louder than anything he could say. you could feel the space between you narrowing as he moved even closer, his lips brushing near yours. “isn’t that right?” he whispered, his voice low and filled with a quiet confidence.

AH-CHOO! a loud sneeze rang through the hallway, shattering every sense of peace in the house. sae froze, his entire posture stiffening, as he shot a death glare toward the room where rin was.

god he’s gonna kill him.

a/n: this is such an old draft omg...finally got inspired to publish it bcz i currently feel like sae lmao. still figuring out my writing style so i hope nobody minds the randomness of my works T-T

[kathaynesart]

Took a bit of time to myself to finally sketch out my vision for Frida based off Andy Suriano’s Farewell. More design thoughts under the cut.

I know some were wary of her appearing too feminine, but honestly I enjoyed the challenge of finding a way to feminize the base turtle model and stay true to Andy’s wonderful design. I don’t want her to just look like her brothers in a show that embraces their differences.

The biggest thing I added to her design was an exposed heart. My own little twist inspired by a real life issue some turtles deal with as well as a fitting ode to the artist she is named after, Frida Kahlo, who often drew herself with her heart floating outside of her body. (And yes I made the creative decision to keep her heart at her center as with many turtles.)

This deformity occurred during her mutation where the sudden growth spurt tore open a hole at the seam of her plastron. She has survived as long as she has because of Big Mama who uses mystic wards to keep her heart physically safe and emotionally numb. If you look closely to her plastron in the show it’s not actually a natural body part but rather seems to be an attachment of her trench coat. Likely a false cover to hide her obvious weak spot (or at least that is my head canon!)

I love the idea of her and Donnie having something they can relate to and I’m sure he’ll be happy to design chest armor for her down the line once she’s free of Big Mama. Maybe someday I’ll figure out her full Mad Dogs outfit, but for now this is just her base and bandana.

As each of the boys embodies a shape, I found it all too fitting to have Frida’s be a heart. It’s honestly a cool shape that uses both rounded forms and sharp points, which I think would encapsulate her character well. Prickly on the surface but a softy deep down. I tried to find less typical ways of feminizing her. Sharpening her beak and digits while retaining the style of feminine eyes present in most of the female cast but matching it more closely to the unsettling shape of the eyes on her assistant’s mask.

Her markings are a color flip of Mikey’s, where as his are yellow spots with orange outlines hers are orange with yellow outlines. Coupled with her yellow eyes to match Donnie and Raph, it gives her this fiery vibe that I think still sets her far apart from Mikey.

The mask was honestly the hardest part. I love that it further accentuates her heart motif and made her more expressive, but just giving her the obvious bow and calling it a day did not sit well with me. I decided to try more of a high ponytail look, but I think it still needs some work. I’m pretty sure I like her with yellow though, both as a nod to Jennika and the idea of April giving her something of her own to help form the bond between the two.

Would love to flesh her out further but back to my usual stuff first.

[yapperingtinaa]

A box of Gemstones.

Your old Hunter's Watch.

And poor clueless Mephisto.

Three objects placed in the middle of the room, atop a wide red blanket. Three objects with each of its own meaning. And three objects awaiting to be chosen by your innocently curious one-year-old daughter.

"You do realize even if she picks one of these, it doesn't mean it'll eventually determine her future, no?" Sylus mused, eyeing you sitting on the floor across the room from where he sat, his gaze softened at the sight his baby daughter giggling and jumping excitedly in your lap. "Who knows this might end up jinxing us and our daughter became a future Evol Police instead."

"Oh shush you party-pooper." You jested playfully with an eye roll, cooing at your baby daughter sweetly, earning an adorable squeal from the toddler. "There's no harm in indulging in old traditions you know. Even the twins think so too."

As if on cue, both Luke and Kieran whooped in excitement from the living room couch. Both betting which their Mini Boss would choose amongst the three objects on the floor.

"Mini Boss might become a badass hunter like Boss Lady, I bet my life on it she'll pick the Hunter's Watch!"

"Nu-uh! Mini Boss is a baby prodigy! My gut tells me she'd be an awesome engineer by picking good ol' Mephie!"

"And the Gemstones?" Sylus questioned, glancing at the twins with raised eyebrows. "I'm guessing it'll mean she'll succeed my place in Onychinus?"

"Bingo!"

"Right on, Bossman!"

Sylus shook his head with an amused smile, shooting you a look that read 'you believe in this?'

You let out a hearty laugh, shrugging nonchalantly as you gave your baby daughter one last squeezing hug before slowly placing her in front of the three objects.

Despite his neutral expression, Sylus waited with bated breath as his daughter slowly inched forward towards the three objects. His little daughter's eyes shine with an innocent twinkle, her small body crawling forward and for a moment, time still around them.

This tradition, the Zhuazhou ceremony, it shouldn't be this nerve-wracking as Sylus should've expect. But he'd be lying if he wasn't both curious and scared for the future of his precious daughter.

There's no doubt Sylus will support his daughter through whatever she wants for as long as she grows up. Even if one day they might argue on certain value, beliefs and whatnot. But by God, Sylus prayed it would never have to take a turn for the worse where the father and daughter end up against one another.

The thought of that kind of future would filled him with nothing but pure dread.

Multiple surprise gasps pulled Sylus out of his muddle thoughts as he was just in time to see his little daughter pushing the three objects away (whereas a relieved Mephisto flew away in an instant) and crawled towards him.

"Pa! Pa!" His daughter beamed brightly, reaching her chubby arms out to her stunned father. Her giggles echoing through the sudden quiet atmosphere and Sylus instantly picked her up into his arms, his heart swelled with affection when his baby daughter nestled into the warmth of his hold.

Luke and Kieran didn't even have it in themselves to feel disappointed when their Mini Boss didn't pick their chosen items. The heartwarming sight of their fearsome leader becoming such a gentle soul around his daughter made them hold back their tears - It was one of those rare moments where they got to witness their Bossman look so vulnerable, so loving and so.. human.

And it was a moment both of them silently agreed not to ruin, especially for you as the twins watched you quietly tiptoed across the room to sit beside Sylus.

"Looks like our Little Dove can't choose a future without her papa in it." Sylus finally tore his gaze from his daughter at the sound of your voice just as you laid your head on his shoulder. You smiled softly up at the awestruck daze in Sylus's eyes, your finger playfully yet gently poked his cheek. "Now you have one less thing to worry about, my dear."

Sylus blinked in surprise, before letting out a small shaky chuckle. One arm holding his snuggling little daughter while the other arm wrapped around your waist - pulling both you and his daughter closer into his embrace.

"Yeah.. I suppose so." Sylus murmured quietly, a tender smile graced his lips as he pressed a gentle kiss on his little daughter's forehead and then another kiss on your cheek, laughing softly as two of his beloved treasures returned the gesture of the affection tenfold, happy laughter and cheers reverberated in the cozy living room.

Whatever the future may hold, for now, the present moment should be savored more than dwelling on uncertainty.

And at that moment for Sylus, it is what he needed the most.

[kanyerealdaughter]

#MORNING WOOD

sexual context , oral ( male receiving ) , face fucking , cussing , cum swallowing , after care..? , i cant remember my head hurts. (fem,reader) x (rin itoshi)

—————————————————————————

rin looks down at your face, your peaceful expression, and feels a strange sense of comfort. he's never really been one for cuddling or intimacy, but there's something about this that feels...right. he gently strokes your hair, his fingers tangling in the soft strands.

 " morning..."

“ mmm..” you said tiredly nuzzling your entire face into the side of his neck making your breasts and in the thin tank top you had your nipple piercing pressed up his chest. he inhales sharply as he feels the cold metal of your nipple piercing press into his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt. his body tenses, his fingers balling into a fist in your hair. he swallows hard, trying to ignore the sudden stirring in his pants.

rin gently runs his fingers through your hair, his hand slowly moving to rest on your back. he can feel the warm curve of your breasts through your thin shirt. he swallows hard, trying to ignore the urge to pull you closer and bury his face between them.

“ … hi rinnie. ..” you mumbled sleepily half asleep from your nap. he blinks in surprise at the sudden nickname, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. he clears his throat, attempting to regain his composure. 

"... don't call me that.." he murmurs, but there's no real bite to his words.

“ hmm..?” you say quietly since you really didn’t hear what he said because you were in and out if you sleep. he sighs softly, his fingers gently playing with a strand of your hair. he leans down and presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before pulling back. 

" nothing...just go back to sleep, okay?"

you nodded slowly, listening to him about to go to sleep as you closed your eyes he realizes suddenly that his morning wood is pressing quite noticeably against your thigh, but you were too tired to notice. his eyes widen in embarrassment as a deep blush creeps up his neck. he tries to subtly shift away, mumbling under his breath. 

" sorry...just morning wood, ignore it..." rin bites his lip, trying to suppress a groan as his hips shift involuntarily, making his erection rub against your thigh more prominently. he's wearing thin sleep pants, leaving little to the imagination. he swallows hard, attempting to will his hard erection to go down.

“ rin i can help you..” you said softly tracing his jawline you started to notice and felt his breathing hitch with his heart beating faster in his chest once the words came out of your mouth.

rin freezes at your soft words, his eyes snapping to yours. he searches your face, trying to gauge if you're serious or just messing with him. his heart pounds in his chest as he feels your gentle touch on his jaw.

 " you...you really want to help me with that?" you did a simple nod before slipping underneath the covers.

he watches with bated breath as you slip under the covers, his mind racing with possibilities. he's never been with anyone before, especially not someone as sweet and gentle as you. he bites his lip, trying to stay calm as he feels the bed shift with your movement.

 " you're really gonna...?" but you didn’t answer as you ignored him, he gasps softly as your hands slip under his sleeping pants, his hips jerking slightly at the sudden contact. rin bites his lip hard, trying to stay quiet as he feels your fingers wrap around his length. he's rock hard and throbbing, leaking pre-cum already.

" f-fuck..." 

“ mm..” your muffled voice came out from under the covers while licking rin mushroom reddish angry tip that was twitching on your tongue.

rin throws his head back, a loud gasp escaping his lips as your warm tongue wraps around the tip of his erection. his hips buck involuntarily, pushing his length deeper into your mouth. he's never felt anything so good in his life, he tore the cover off from over your head as his hands automatically reached out to tangle in your hair.

he groans deeply as your lips wrap around his throbbing cock, his fingers tightening in your hair. the wet heat of your mouth is incredible, sending jolts of pleasure through his body. he watches through half-lidded eyes as your plump lips slide down his cock, taking him inch by inch.

rin cock was much too big to fit in everything inside your mouth so you bring small hand that barely wrapped around his length and wrapped it around cock jerking him off while also sucking him off.

he watches as your small hand wraps around his massive length, your fingers barely touching around his girth. he groans as your hand works him rapidly, spreading pre-cum around his length for lubrication. he throws his head back, his hips snapping up to meet your strokes.

 " shit..." he grunts as he feels you gag on his large cock, the sound only spurring him on. his hips move faster, thrusting into your mouth as your hand jerks him off. the sloppy sounds of your mouth on his dick fill the room, mixing with his heavy breathing and groans.

you removed one of your hand to go do and play with his balls giving him more satisfaction bringing him over to the edge as you deep throat him your nose pressed up against his pelvis touching your nose buried in his pubes.

rin is completely lost in the sensation, his eyes rolling back in his head as you deep throat him again, your nose pressing against his pelvis. he reaches down and grabs your head, holding it in place as he fucks your mouth, his balls slapping against your chin. 

" ohhh fuckk..." he groans out even though it sounds a lot like him whining he grabs your head with both hands, thrusting twice more before groaning deeply. 

" fuck... i'm gonna cum..." his entire body tenses up as ropes of hot cum shoot into your throat, his breathing ragged and uneven.

 he keeps holding your head down as he finishes, his release seemingly endless. he pants heavily as he slowly pulls out, his release dripping down your chin. he looks down at you, seeing his release all over your face, and feels an overwhelming urge to pull you back onto him again.

rin eyes widen in surprise as he watches you swallow every drop of his release without hesitation. he's never had someone so eager to taste him before. he pulls you up and crushes his lips to yours, tasting himself on your tongue as he deepens the kiss.

he breaks the kiss to breathe, only to dive back in, his hands roaming over your body possessively after the close intimacy.

" come here..." he adjusts the covers to wrap around both of you comfortably, pulling you against his chest in a tight embrace. he runs his fingers through your hair, realizing how sweet you are beneath this bold exterior you just showed him.

" you deserve better than what i just gave you..."

𖣂 KANYREALDAUGHTER SPEAKS - im so depressed… uh but whateverr my head is pounding super baddd.

words 1.1k

», ᴀ ᴋᴀɴʏᴇʀᴇᴀʟᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

copyright ©️. ᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ . «

[honeyscara]

–Haikyuu boys being a gentlemen (ft. atsumu, daichi, kuroo, akaashi, bokuto, oikawa, iwaizumi & kita)

Atsumu Miyaּ ֶָ֢.

~Carrying you when you're tired~

You’d been walking for what felt like hours. Your legs were aching, and every step seemed heavier than the last. Atsumu, ever the observant one (even if he pretended to be oblivious), noticed how you were lagging behind.

“Oi, are ya tryin’ to walk a marathon or somethin’? Yer gonna pass out at this rate.”

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, though your voice lacked conviction.

“Yeah, right.” Before you could protest, Atsumu crouched down in front of you. “Hop on.”

Your cheeks flushed. “What? No way!”

He turned his head slightly, flashing you a smug grin. “C’mon now, I ain’t takin’ no for an answer. I’ve got the stamina of a god, remember?”

Rolling your eyes but secretly grateful, you hesitantly climbed onto his back. He adjusted his grip, holding your legs firmly as he stood up with ease.

“See? Told ya I’ve got ya,” he said with a chuckle, starting to walk again.

Despite his teasing, Atsumu was gentle, making sure you were comfortable. He even started humming a random tune to distract you from how tired you were.

Daichi Sawamuraּ ֶָ֢.

~Protecting you from unwanted attention~

The bar was lively, the music loud, and your group of friends was having a good time. But you couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling of someone’s eyes on you. You glanced around and saw a man sitting a few tables away, staring at you a little too intently.

Daichi noticed your shift in demeanor immediately. Leaning closer, he asked, “Are you okay?”

You hesitated but nodded toward the guy. “He’s… staring.”

Without missing a beat, Daichi slipped off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders, his expression calm but firm. “Here. This’ll help.”

He then shifted his seat so that he was partially blocking the guy’s view of you, his posture protective yet casual.

“If it gets worse, let me know. We can head out early,” he offered, giving you a reassuring smile.

You felt your shoulders relax under his jacket, comforted not just by the gesture but by the quiet strength Daichi exuded in moments like these.

Kuroo Tetsurouּ ֶָ֢.

~Helping you with a wardrobe mishap~

The date had been perfect—until your skirt got caught on a loose nail and tore slightly. Embarrassed, you tried to adjust it, but Kuroo immediately noticed.

“Whoa, hold up. What happened?”

“My skirt ripped,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

Without saying a word, he slipped off his hoodie and tied it around your waist, covering the tear. “There. Problem solved.”

You looked up at him, surprised by how effortlessly he handled the situation. “Thank you.”

“Hey, no big deal.” He grinned, his sharp eyes softening. “But now you owe me. I mean, my hoodie looks great on you, but it’s my favorite.”

You laughed despite yourself, and Kuroo leaned closer, his voice low and teasing. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you keep it—just this once.”

Akaashi Keijiּ ֶָ֢.

~Shielding you from rain~

The rain came out of nowhere, drenching everyone on the street. You cursed under your breath, realizing you didn’t have an umbrella. Beside you, Akaashi calmly opened his, stepping closer to shield you from the downpour.

“Here,” he said, holding it over you.

“You’re getting wet,” you pointed out, noticing how the umbrella was tilted more toward your side.

“It’s fine,” he replied with a small smile. “I’d rather you stay dry.”

When you tried to shift the umbrella to share it equally, Akaashi gently pulled you closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “This works better.”

His calm demeanor made your heart flutter, and you found yourself leaning into his warmth as he guided you through the rain.

Bokuto Koutarouּ ֶָ֢.

~Helping you after your heel breaks~

You were walking with Bokuto when you suddenly stumbled, your heel snapping and throwing you off balance. Bokuto immediately caught you, his strong hands steadying you.

“What happened?” he asked, looking concerned.

“My heel broke,” you sighed, holding up the shoe.

Bokuto crouched down to inspect it, then looked up at you with a determined expression. “Alright, no biggie. I’ll carry you!”

Before you could even protest, he scooped you up in a bridal carry, grinning widely.

“Bokuto, this is embarrassing!”

“Why? You’re light as a feather! Plus, I’m strong!” he said proudly, flexing his biceps for emphasis.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm, even as he carried you down the street, drawing a few amused stares from passersby.

Oikawa Tooruּ ֶָ֢.

~Offering you his jacket~

The night air was chilly, and a sudden gust of wind made you clutch at your dress, feeling self-conscious. Oikawa noticed immediately, his eyes sharp despite the relaxed smile on his face.

He slipped off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders without a word.

“Tooru, you didn’t have to—”

“Of course I did,” he interrupted, his tone light but firm. “Can’t have anyone else seeing what’s mine.”

His teasing made your cheeks flush, but the warmth of his jacket—and his protective gesture—eased your discomfort.

As the two of you continued walking, he kept a hand on your shoulder, guiding you gently. “You look beautiful, by the way. But I’ll make sure you feel safe, too.”

Iwaizumi Hajimeּ ֶָ֢.

~Carrying your heavy bags~

You’d insisted you could carry all the shopping bags, but by the time you reached the parking lot, your arms felt like they were about to give out. Iwaizumi noticed the strain on your face and immediately took the bags from you.

“Hajime, I can handle it!” you protested.

“No, you can’t,” he said matter-of-factly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “What kind of guy would I be if I let you carry all this?”

He slung the bags over his arms with ease, making it look effortless. When you tried to take one back, he shot you a stern but playful look.

“Just let me take care of you, okay?” he said, his voice softening.

As the two of you walked, he smiled at you. “Next time, though, we’re bringing a cart.”

Kita Shinsukeּ ֶָ֢.

~Helping you with an injury~

You were helping kita on the farm when you accidentally twisted your ankle. The sharp pain made you wince, and you tried to brush it off, not wanting to make a big deal of it. But Kita noticed immediately.

“Stop for a moment,” he said, his tone calm but firm.

“I’m fine, it’s nothing,” you insisted, attempting to take another step.

Kita was already by your side, gently guiding you to sit on a nearby crate. “Let me see,” he said softly, kneeling in front of you.

Before you could protest further, he carefully rolled up your pant leg, his hands steady and respectful. The slight swelling made him frown, and he gently pressed around your ankle. “It’s sprained. You shouldn’t be walking on it.”

“I’ll be okay,” you muttered, embarrassed.

Kita looked up at you with a gentle but no-nonsense expression. “You’re not going to make it worse because you don’t want help.”

Without another word, he stood and crouched in front of you. “Come on, I’ll carry you back to the house.”

“Shinsuke, I can’t let you—”

“You can and you will,” he interrupted calmly, turning his head to meet your eyes. “It’s my responsibility to take care of you.”

You hesitated for a moment before climbing onto his back, his arms steady as they held you securely. Despite his quiet nature, you could feel the warmth in his voice as he said, “Next time, don’t try to hide it. I’d rather help you right away.”

The sincerity in his tone made your heart flutter, and as he carried you back, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for his unwavering kindness.

[dooberific]

I absolutely love your writing!! Idk if you're open for request, but if you do, can I request doctor!reader with Harumasa? He loves to go to infirmary not only he can pretend to be sick but also just to see them

Double trouble cause I thought it sounded like a fun combination. Does using a 1988 song name as the title make me sound old? 🤔

❝ 𝘉𝘢𝘥 𝘊𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯' 𝘠𝘰𝘶 ❞

harumasa x afab!doctor!reader

genre: fluff, I projected a little bit into this???

summary: if being in love with your cute doctor wasn’t bad enough, she’s completely clueless when it comes to romance

wc: 1.6k

The end of your pen tapped thoughtfully against your plush lower lip as you skimmed your notes. Once. Twice. Your eyes dart to the opened paper file on the counter beside you.

 Even cracked it was a solid two inches high and crammed full of health histories, specialty consult results and prescription sheets all bound haphazardly with what looked like ties from a bread bag. You really needed to get an actual binder to hold it all, but as of now you had other problems to address.

“Well,” you swiveled your chair around as you clicked your pen, eyes still skimming your intake sheet before you looked up with a smile, “Good news is nothing seems to be wrong. Well, let me rephrase that, wrong when compared to your baseline.” 

It was an important differentiation to make when you were dealing with one of your most tasking patients. In your two years of clinic practice in the city you had never needed to spend a series of days pouring over a patient file, heck, even before you graduated and were staged as a resident in the clinic in the Outer Ring it wasn’t so extensive. 

Ether Aptitude Regression Syndrome was a bad actor, and Asaba Harumasa seemed to be its favorite role to haunt. 

He coughed pitifully, a hand splayed over his chest as he shook his head. “Are you sure, Doc? My body’s aching all over and my head feels funny, and I—,” he coughed again, “can’t seem to shake this cough.” 

You frowned, scribbling another note on your papers. “Have you been taking all your medications as indicated?”

“Just as the doctor ordered…actually,” a pensive expression decorated his face as he fisted the fabric of his work shirt, “maybe I have a deficiency in something, I think I ran out of some of my vitamins.” 

You perked up immediately, flipping quickly to his laundry list of medication and supplements. “Which one have you been missing? A? C? K?”

“I think it was vitamin you.”

“Oh.” You pulled your prescription pad off the desk. “I’m going to write you an order for  Vitamin U. Try adding some cruciferous veggies to your diet, leafy greens, broccoli, stuff like that. Call me if it starts giving you stomach problems.”

You tore the slip off your pad as you extended it to him, the paper decorated in your curling and messy script. 

“Do you need a work excuse?”

Should he just quit? This was the question he asked himself every time he stepped out the door of the clinic back onto the street, paper bag of medication in his hand. 

White coat syndrome was a very real affliction, though his heart wasn’t racing and his blood pressure wasn’t spiking because he was anxious. After the fourth visit you just assumed it was his baseline response to see his pulse spike randomly through the exam, after all, his syndrome mainly seemed to impact his heart and lungs. 

What you didn’t know was that wasn’t his baseline, nor was it a mutation of his syndrome not documented by his past physicians. It was simply a biological response to something else you conveniently seemed to not notice: the raging interest he had in you.

Rest assured he was absolutely mortified when he figured it out himself, laying on his back staring at the ceiling in the dark as he realized he was enthralled by the very idea of you. Your intelligence, your nimble hands, the way you tapped your pen against your lips when met was a challenge you hadn’t quite deciphered, your warm smile.

It wasn’t a complete lie when he would tell you he felt feverish, or that his stomach felt sick and his heart was racing, he felt all those things with horrifying clarity tenfold when your hand pressed against his forehead after noting aloud that his skin seemed flush and clammy. 

Was it crossing a line to be flirting with your doctor? Definitely, he was sure he was toeing some doctor-patient professional relationship line, but if he ended up in someone else’s care later then there really wasn’t anything holding him back. 

But he was growing increasingly convinced that if you weren’t intentionally playing dumb that you might be a little thick when it came to the nuanced science of flirtation because he had shifted from casual to nearly outright and you never batted an eye.

How else could you have misinterpreted his texts from last week? He was half-giddy with excitement, sure he had you this time.

I miss you.

Your appointment isn’t until next week, you didn’t miss anything. Have a good night :)

It haunted him nearly as much as the day he forgot his work excuse and asked you to text it to him, how proudly he had flipped the phone screen to show Tsukishiro until she squinted and asked, “Why do you have heart emojis around your doctor’s name?”

A devastating blow to his ego. But so was every failed attempt to catch your eye. 

“Do you have an inhaler? Cause you just took my breath away.”

“Hold on, I’ll grab one from the cart. You’re supposed to carry your own inhaler, Mr Asaba!” You scolded, disappearing for a moment before tossing him an inhaler. 

“You look a little under the weather yourself, Doc. Sure you aren’t deficient in vitamin M E?”

“Ah, I didn’t put as much makeup on today.” You cupped your cheeks with your hands thoughtfully. “I feel fine though, thanks for your concern.” 

“I’m no organ donor, but I’d love to give you my heart.”

“Your medical condition prevents you from joining the organ donation program.” You didn’t even bother to turn around when you acknowledged him.

“I think my heart just skipped a beat when I looked at you.”

“You’re on a medication that regulates heart rhythm, should I write you a cardiology referral?”

He went to text you again as he walked home for the evening. Typed. Deleted. Typed again. Deleted again. You just weren’t getting it, or maybe you were just too kind to tell him you weren’t interested or even that you had a boyfriend already on his numerous visits. Maybe he should just give you some space?

But maybe that would be cruel when you were standing on the sidewalk waiting for the light to change, mascara smeared down your cheeks as you sniffled. He pocketed his phone.

“Hey Doc, you alright?” 

You tensed, head swiveled in his direction before you quickly turned your face away, hands swiping at your cheeks before wiping them on your dark scrubs hastily.

“Oh, hey Mr. Asaba.” He frowned at your attempt at a cheerful tone, your voice still wavering from your tears before you cleared your throat. “You, uh, don’t have to call me Doc when the clinic is closed.” 

“And you don’t have to call me Mister when I’m not sitting on your exam table.” He retorted, catching the little quirk at the corner of your lips as they quivered in a small smile.

“Want me to walk you home? It’s kinda late.” 

“No, but thank you.” You peered over your shoulder towards the restaurant just behind you. You gripped your bag tighter, inching closer to where he stood beside you on the curb.  “Actually, would you mind..?” 

He didn’t have to ask you what was wrong, within the first five minutes of your walk you had apologized to him multiple times, started crying again, and spilled your heart out.

Six bad dates in the span of a couple weeks came to a head over a plate of chicken parm, your date kicking back as he declared you to be dull, hopeless, slow, and much uglier in person than your dating profile picture (which was your clinic profile photo). 

“He said that I “couldn’t take a hint”, whatever that’s supposed to mean!” You cried indignantly before you turned to him, eyes puffy and wet from your tears. 

“Am I that bad?”

He sucked a breath between his teeth. “Well, not to play the devil’s advocate but I’ve been flirting with you for weeks and you didn’t notice.” 

You stopped dead in your tracks. “What?!”

He held up his hands defensively, but before he could say anything your head had already hung low, shuffling your clinic sneakers on the dirty sidewalk outside your apartment.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice was small as your shoulders sank. “I’m not very good at stuff like this.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, fingers grazing his choker. “I noticed, but it’s fine. You just need things to be a little more straightforward.”

He took a deep breath, clasping his hands together as he pointed at you. “I think you’re very pretty and charming in your weird doctor-y kind of way, so I would like to take you out for dinner sometime. Like, romantically.”

He was sure you gave yourself whiplash for how quickly your head snapped up, eyes wide. You brushed your tousled hair back from your face, cheeks flushing brightly enough he could see them burning under the streetlights.

“Oh, okay….when?”

“Tomorrow after you get off? I’m dreaming of beer and fried chicken if you aren’t opposed.”

“Of course not!” 

He was a little taken aback by how aggressively you answered, your hands clasping around one of his as if he was about to dematerialize before your very eyes.

“Great, then I will see you tomorrow. Have a good night, Doc—I mean, (y/n).”

“Good night to you as well.”

He turned to leave. He was practically screaming inside like a teenage girl you just secured a prom date, a new lightness to his step in the wake of his victory.

“Harumasa!”

He paused in his step, head whipping around to face you. You still stood on the stoop, a smile plastered across your face like he hadn’t seen before, one that lit your eyes up and dimpled your cheek.

“Thank you!”

He gripped his chest over his heart as it flipped wildly in his chest. His grin was pained when he looked up at you. 

“Doc, I might actually need emergency care this time--,”

Rey 2024

[whattheheckmidoriya]

Where Did You Go?

Description: The war on Humanity ended, but the war in your mind only grew as the days went by.

Word Count: 1.3k

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader

Warnings: Illusions to depression

Author's Note: GOODNESS it's been a while! I'm a bit out of practice, but I hope y'all enjoy this while I find my groove again♡

Levi Ackerman Masterlist

Join the taglist here!

°•°•°☆°•°•°

“Where did you go?”

His voice shook you out of your thoughts, bringing you back to the present moment. He always had this way of reeling you in, of keeping your feet on the ground even when your mind had gone elsewhere. And that's all it really took– a quiet rasp of his voice to soothe your racing mind, to silence the noise that echoed within you.

Slowly, it all came back to you, your senses tuning themselves to the world around you. The soft patter of rain. The light scent of burnt wood from the fireplace. The gentle caress of the blanket draped over your shoulders.

He sat by your side, his chair parked next to the couch you laid on. Levi tilted his head, his gaze flickering over your face, seeing past the calm facade you wore like a steely mask.

What an annoyingly perceptive man. 

You shook your head, as if trying to dismiss the flicker of concern behind his stormy eyes. “I…I was here,” you nearly cringed at the wavering conviction in your voice, your chest tight.

Levi frowned, his chest deflating as he sighed. His chair creaked quietly as he wheeled himself closer, close enough for him to lean in, to notice the gloss of your eyes. His voice came in a hushed breath, as if trying not to spook you. “You know what I meant,” he murmured, a scarred hand pushing your hair back in an almost tender gesture.

He didn't miss the way your jaw ticked, the way your gaze flickered away from his, refusing to meet. His hand left your hair, tentatively reaching for your chin, gentle and cautious, steering you back to him.

“Where did you go?”

“Nowhere—” You stopped, almost as if the sound of your voice grated against your ears.  Your words were like lava on your throat, burning as they spilled off your tongue desperately. 

His thumb gently moved over your chin, his touch cautious as it was tender. He shook his head, his gaze mirroring the pain and heartache in your own. He leaned in, scarred lips pressing against your forehead. 

“Up here,” Levi murmured against your skin. “Where do you keep going when it's quiet?”

It nearly broke his heart when you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to hide the tears that threatened to spill onto your cheeks. He could hear the way you sighed, the sound weary and heavy as if your chest would cave in. 

“Let me in,” he breathed, his voice a pleading little thing full of desperation. “C'mon, hon, just let me in.”

Your lips quivered, the sight heartbreaking, pulling at his heartstrings painfully. It felt like a punch to the gut, the way you bit back a sob as you shook your head. You gripped his hand, squeezing painfully. A futile attempt at keeping yourself together.

“I see them—” you choked up. The words tumbled out of your mouth like it hurt to articulate them; to breathe them into existence. 

And Levi knew who you spoke of. Them. The kids, as you lovingly called them from the moment they entered your lives. He could see the despair in your expression, how you crumbled at the memory of them.

The war changed many things, but he believed it destroyed a deeper part of you– a part that lived at your core as a person, a part that once blossomed like flowers in spring. He'd seen how you mourned and grieved as the world rebuilt itself, how you drowned in heartache and despair. It never got easier to stomach, the sight of the redness around your tearful eyes. Your eyes never seem to stay dry for more than a few hours these days.

“I miss them…” you whispered, and he knew it tore you apart to say it aloud. 

You missed your kids. You missed their bright smiles and playful banter. You missed how they'd run to you— how they sought you out in moments of joy and grief alike. You missed when they asked you to patch together their uniforms, to help cut their hair or sneak them an extra snack. They grew so much over the years in more ways than one, but they still remained as children in the back of your mind.

And you missed them– those who still walked the earth and those who were forced to leave far too soon.

Levi nodded quietly, his sharp eyes softened with solemn understanding. “I know,” he rasped. “I miss the brats, too.” 

His eyes fluttered shut, his chest tight with an ache he couldn't shake. Nuzzling his nose against your hair, he took a deep breath, his lungs full of the soft scent of your shampoo. Levi felt his own eyes sting, his throat tight with unreleased cries. 

“I miss them too,” he repeated, his voice hoarse. A trembling breath escaped his lungs. “I miss you as well."

A choked sob escaped you, ripping past your throat. Your cries rang out, pained and broken, a devastating sound that tore right through him.

 He could feel you trembling fingers tightly curling over the fabric of his shirt, desperate. Levi pulled you in, as if he wished to hide you within the guarded walls of his heart. He held you tightly, cradling your head against his chest, and your cries filled the air. 

“I–” Levi's voice died on his tongue, his throat tight with the weight of his words. His stomach tightened, a heavy, sickly feeling pooling within. “I've missed you most.”

The sound of your cries tears through the cold demeanor he'd spent so many years upkeeping, something within him shattering when faced with the depths of your sorrow. His heart ached; he could hardly remember the last time he'd heard you laugh. He couldn't quite remember the last time you smiled and actually meant it.

It felt like a star had been blotted out of the sky. 

Levi gently traced his fingers over your cheeks, your tears erased under his touch. He was never good at this— this whole thing of soothing people and providing gentle words. More often than not, he believed it better to remain quiet. He's too sour, too rough. Gentle was never his thing.

But for you, oh, for you he'd certainly try. 

“Cry it out,” He said, his voice a quiet rasp, tinged with care. “Cry all that you need to.”

He sighed, his gaze pleading. “But promise to come back to me,” Levi murmured. A finger gently reached up, tapping on your forehead softly. “Don't get stuck up here, damn it. Don't lock yourself away.”

His hand once again cupped the side of your face, your cheek perfectly fitting over the palm of his hand. “Don't trap yourself in whatever hell you've created in that brain of yours,” he urged. “Just…come to me.” 

It took him a bit more struggle than usual to scoop you up in his arms, settling you over his lap as he sank further into his wheelchair, but the way you melted into his embrace was an instant relief despite your tearful sniffles. Tucking your head under his chin, he sighed, his hand rubbing gentle circles over your back.

Levi didn't know how long you sat there, hiccuping and weeping against his chest, but he felt his heart lighten as your breaths found an even rhythm. He tightened his arms around you, almost reluctant to take you to bed. Your weight against him is a welcomed comfort. 

“Stubborn, sentimental woman,” He huffed gruffly, though his voice held a note of affection as he gazed down at your sleeping expression. He knew you couldn't hear him in your slumber, but he hoped his words would somehow reach you. “Come to me next time that stupid head of yours gets too loud.”

°•°•°☆°•°•°

🔖Levi Ackerman taglist

@leviackermanmyhero245 @violet-19999 @celestair @ms-sin-city @ghostly-haunted @andrastesbeard @ikisstoga @izukus-gf @Bluetima @lemonboi69 @aconstructofamind @figlia--della--luna @imjustasimpxd @notgoodforlife @bubsonnobx @a10vely-yutazen @Just-sana @Loca-raccoon @Hjnhuh @geese-goose18 @c-a-v-a-l-r-y

[elixrr]

Valentines Day：Stages of Love!

STAGES：how they fell in love (1), them as they pin for you (2), how they plan the confession (3), their confession (4)

ft：GAMING (1.8k words), WANDERER (2k words)

FIC：fluffy headcanons + their confession to you in dialogue!｜day 1 of my late valentines event...

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ “You received some mail...”

➥ “...Read it?”

— ➢ GAMING：

STAGE 1 - how he fell in love with you.

➥ It was spontaneous, really. It didn’t really occur to him at the time, but you had your kamera out, and you were taking photos of the scenery around you two. The day started out as a simple hangout between two friends– two best friends. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary, either. You went around Qiaoying village, checking out the stalls and simply having a good time in each other's company, until you went on a small little raft with him. Sailing the lakes of Liyue, you took pictures of Teyvat's golden hour, and Gaming couldn't help but stare; he watched your light and serene smile while taking and printing photos to keep for yourself and give to him. As previously mentioned, it didn't occur to him at first, but there was a swelling in the beat of his heart, Gaming nearly thought he was sick, but he wasn't. He tore his eyes away once, and they automatically dragged back to you, like his eyes were your loyal puppy, always wanting to see you and be by your side.

Eventually, it wasn’t just his eyes that longed for you.

You were admirable in his eyes, it seemed. After the hangout, the feelings continued to linger in his heart. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach, a smile broke into his expression– a little brighter than usual– and he couldn't bring himself to sleep that night. Tossing and turning in his sheets, but not from a nightmare. Gaming was horribly confused; why was he feeling like this? A slight burning feeling simmered within; if only he could hold you right at this moment.

That's when it hit. And it hit hard.

STAGE 2 - how he's pining for you.

➥ Gaming's crush on you became more persistent. He's heard a story or two from his friends and how crushes typically lasted between a few weeks to three months, and any longer than that would just mean they're head over heels. So, not wanting to push anything that could hurt later, he waited patiently— or, at least, he tried to wait as patiently as he could. Patience was something that he eventually lost. Eventually, as in, he was stripped of nearly all of his patience after the first week. Gaming was never the type to get super jealous, he loved people— he still does— and it shines in how extroverted and eccentric he is, but sometimes when you spoke to people and seemed to have more fun with them than you did with him, he would get... Rather insecure. He once asked you if you were getting bored of him, and he was immediately proven wrong.

After the span of three months was over, he still found himself head over heels for you. It chilled out a little more, he can control how he acts again, but everyone notices that extra jump in his step, the extra sparkles in his eyes when you draw near, and especially the slightly larger smile he carries around with him before hanging out with you, while hanging out with you, and just a little after he hung out with you. Gaming was adorable with how smiley he became with you around, and when you brought it up, he became really flustered. If you catch onto things easily, then you probably figured out that he likes you. If not, then don't worry because he's going to plan to confess.

Though, it takes almost a full year of having a crush on you for him to realize that he needs to confess.

There was indeed a time when Gaming thought he was going to lose his chances. You and Chongyun grew closer. Gaming didn't know Chongyun that well, but you introduced him to the small little hangouts. Gaming was fine at first, but once he was called over by one of his relatives during a stroll around Qiaoying Village. By the time he could get back to you two, you were having the time of your life, and Chongyun seemed ecstatic. Gaming knew that he had issues with his yang energy, hence why he was so composed half of the time, but to see him breaking out of that composure with you? Gaming stopped in his tracks that day. He followed behind the two of you but didn't bother to let either of you know. Of course, with a swell in his heart when you noticed him first, you brought him back into the conversation. Though, he was quieter. He was a little duller than he usual. Where did his smile go? Where did his bright, sparkly eyes go? What about that spring in his step every time you spoke to him? It's not that he lost interest in you. No, it's that he thought you were losing interest in him. Eventually, he realized that he should probably ask Chongyun if he liked you. That question took weeks to muster the courage up for.

When he got around to asking and he learned that you and Chongyun were just really chill friends, all of the spring, spark, and smile that he lost all came back to him. But now the question stood tall.

Did you even like him back?

He was advised by Chongyun and Xinqiu to confess, and that's when all of the planning began.

STAGE 3 - him planning the confession.

➥ Chongyun and Xinqiu were kind enough to help Gaming with his confession. The original plan was for him to just serenade you during a romantic ride on those bamboo rafts, but Chongyun worried for the third wheeling boatman, so they all devised a plan for the giddy Gaming. Gaming will ask you to ride a raft with him, and Xinqiu will dress up so that you wouldn't recognize him. He'll also be there for the friendly wingman support. Chongyun will have the area feel colder but won't freeze the lake itself. Even while Gaming cringed at the whole idea, Xinqiu and Chongyun agreed to it. It's too romantic to pass up, Gaming giving you his hoodie when you're cold in supposedly warm weather is too good to become a lost opportunity. The plan, after a few hours of playing cards, eating dim sum, and snacking on winter melon cakes, was set. When the weather's good, Gaming will take you out on a boat ride as per usual, but there's suddenly an expensive price for a boat ride. Before you can even think to take your wallet out, he'll whip out some mora and give it to the disguised Xinqiu, plus an extra tip. Then, Xinqiu will use a mini music box that he received from his Fontanian friend, and some cute, romantic music will play in the background. After some talking, you should be able to notice a sudden cold wind with the help of Chongyun and a wandering friend named Kazuha, then Gaming will lend you his hoodie with the excuse that he's fine and he can take the cold. This will all happen around the golden hours of Liyue, just like how it was when he first caught feelings for you, and just before sunset, Gaming will pull out a fresh Qixing by Xinqiu's area, and he'll confess. Whether or not you accept is up to you, and that alone is enough to wreck his brain.

The planning is done; the date is picked between the three, plus Kazuha's approval. All that's left is for the confession to be carried out.

STAGE 4 - the confession.

➥ Now, it was time to confess. Oh, how terrifying the thought and much more nerve-racking the feeling. Gaming met you by the river, and you looked as stunning as ever. Funnily enough, this was your usual fit, your typical and casual clothes, but something felt more different. Gaming's heart beat with love and a little nervousness. Strangely, you already had your wallet out, so on the way to the raft, Gaming was sure to keep his hand in his pocket, making sure that he had all of the mora ready for the raft payment. He kept a flowing conversation, and you, as usual, kept it cool as well. It momentarily paused when you both saw the disguised Xinqiu, but something felt off in Gaming's gut when you took his hand and lead him to the raft, which, funnily enough, was the last available raft nearby.

“Hello, my dearest friends. Would you like to ride on this fine raft?”

A smile grows on your face before Gaming can say anything.

“Yes, we'd love to.”

Your hand squeezes Gaming's tightly when you shift your gaze and smile over to him. He's distracted momentarily, blushing at the feeling of your fingers interlocking with his.

“How wonderful! That will be 10,000 mora, please.” Xinqiu politely bows with his hand out, extending towards you, and you're suddenly closer to Xinqiu to pay for the raft.

This is bad, super bad! You hand over the necessary mora to Xinqiu and wink at him, lending a hand over to help Gaming up onto the raft. You're strangely prepared for this, hell, you're even wearing... Something warm. That's. Not good. The plan isn't going the way he needs it to! Gaming watches you take the seat next to him and admire the scenery around. He's nervous, evident by how he constantly plays with his fingernails, or how his sight spills all over the place— how he flickers his eyes over to you, then to the waters beneath the gaps of the bamboo. He aligns his sight with the direction of the raft, and he watches the ripples of the water flow with the serene waters of the lake. It's calming slightly, but there's still the nervous pound in his heart.

Gaming looks back at you. You have your kamera out, and you're taking photos of the scenery with a small smile on your face. There's a bloom in Gaming's heart. He finds his gaze lingering too much onto you to notice that you've taken your own cardigan off, resting it on your lap. The Adam's apple in his throat bobs a little. He needs to confess, and it's going to happen soon— if not right now.

Your gaze falls onto him, and he nearly jumps in his seat. It's strangely quiet and rather cold. In a desperate attempt to fill the void of silence, he stutters and exaggerates a cold expression,

“It's... It's really cold now, huh? That's weird. It's awfully cold for spring!”

“In that case, here. Take my cardigan, it'll keep you warm.” You smile at him knowingly, wrapping the cardigan around the blushing, confused Gaming.

Wait, what? He was supposed to do that!

You smile at him and turn back over to the scenery around. You have your hand resting near him, and he can't help but stare at the reflection of the light lingering on your hand. It's attractive, everything about you he finds so attractive, every insecurity and every part you're proud of he takes and smiles proudly with. Gaming is deep in love with you, and it's clear as glass right now as he takes your hand in his and gently taps his thumb against your knuckle.

“Hey. So, can I... I have something to say.”

You send your undivided attention to him as he speaks. His heart pounds against his chest, and he subconsciously squeezes your hand.

“I've been thinking. We've been really close 'n cool friends for a while, don't you think?”

Darn it, Gaming, get to the point! He yells at himself, and the burn of an embarrassed blush glitters across his face.

“Listen, Gaming.” You interlock your fingers with his again, and you give him a soft, sweet smile.

“I like you, too, okay?”

And with the peck of a kiss on his cheek, a small, sudden, yet very giddy smile grew on his face. He asked for re-confirmation, and when you gave it to him, he nearly fainted on the spot with joy.

You and Gaming held hands, and a shared smile bloomed between the two of you. You leaned in for a kiss, and Gaming allowed you— but before a kiss could happen, Xingqiu interrupted with the snap of his Kamera.

You and Gaming turn around. Xinqiu smiles, taking the photo out of the kamera and hiding it behind his back, whistling as if nothing had happened.

You and Gaming realized then and there that you would thus receive the teasing of a lifetime.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ “1 new message...”

➥ “...Read it?”

— ➢ WANDERER：

STAGE 1 - how he fell in love with you.

➥ Wanderer was and is a special— very special case. He's a puppet beneath the porcelain skin; there's almost nothing under it. He's hollow, meaning he has no heart. So what would explain this strange feeling within? Nahida suggested a fondness for you through the form of love, but Wanderer thought it was impossible. He's a puppet, and not only does he lack the heart to love, but he has never loved before and certainly wouldn't now.

Of course, that simply wasn't the case.

Wanderer always felt some sort of ache when it came to you. Nahida's suggestion of fondness found itself dug into his mind rent-free, even if he fully disagreed with it. He felt like you were simply more annoying than anyone else he's ever met. Yet, there was this one time that he considered the possibility that maybe... Maybe it is love, after all.

It was his birthday, and you hung around with Nahida to surprise him. The surprise wasn't anything big, but it was nice enough to have left a stain ingrained in his memory of it. You and Nahida had baked a cake made especially for him, and the party was held at a vantage point. Funnily enough, that same day was the day where he wanted to show you this exact vantage point, but you had already discovered it first. You joked that it was simply meant to be, and a faint blush dusted Wanderer's cheeks— though, he'd never admit it to be of embarrassment or love. The birthday party, as mentioned before, wasn't that big. It was you and Nahida, but there was a particular point that had Wanderer questioning if he needed a heart at all for his "possible-and-horrible-wave-of-fondness." In his eyes, it was one thing to see his semi-savior, Nahida, all giddy and happy to be able to finally celebrate the birthday of another, but it was a whole other treat to see your smile. He found himself lingering on you for too long; he felt an ache within that longed for something— even when he tried to dismiss it, that was the beginning of his spiral of love. That longing never went away. Later that day, after you had left, Nahida would tell him how easy it was to spot, but he ignored her and went off for the night. He took himself to the highest spot of Sumeru, and he sat quietly on the branch.

You were back on his mind. Your smile, your eccentric self, while eating the cake. Everything was wonderful. You were wonderful.

You are wonderful.

A smile creept in from his teeth, accompanied by a sigh.

Wait.

You're... wonderful.

Images of your smile flashed within his mind, and that same ache and longing pinged and rang within his chest, where a human's heart could have been.

A memory of Nahida's words play in his head.

“Perhaps it is indeed a sign of your fondness for them! Humans feel it for one another, and oftentimes, they refer to the feeling as love.”

Does he love you?

The ache pounds against his chest.

Oh, for archon's sake.

Wanderer's face turned red at a thought:

He really might be in love with you.

STAGE 2 - how he's pining for you.

➥ The days and weeks after his birthday, he sought you out more than he could've ever thought he would. Sometimes, he'd run into you buying groceries at the stalls of Sumeru. Other times, you'd be sitting in a small field of flowers, and he'd be flying by. You didn't seem to mind his presence, though. Actually, evident by your smiley faces and happier expressions, you seemed to enjoy it! The thought, without realizing it, made him happier than usuaI. While it wasn't evident with a spring in his step, if you looked closer, there would be a dozen sparkles in his eyes every time he glanced your way. Except, you'd know better than to get too close. Otherwise, Wanderer would've smacked you silly.

He’s become a little softer towards you than he is with anyone else. Even with his specialty of degrading everyone around him, he can’t bring himself to be rude to you in an honest way. Any harsh comment is followed by an ache in his heart whenever he sees you either pissed or bothered, and he finds himself incapable of thinking badly of you. Strangely enough, he thinks of you more than he talks to you nowadays. It bleeds into his day-to-day schedule when he’s in the Akademiya, studying for his classes, or doing his work. Wanderer doesn't really have much to do with his days. He thinks of you during classes now, too. He's unsure if you attend classes or if you've finished school, as he's never bothered to ask, and you've never brought it up. Either way, when the lectures start becoming white noise to him, he wonders if you're also in a classroom right now, bored and thinking of whatever you think of.

If only you might be thinking of him, too.

A tiny smile breaks his bored, motionless lips. The professor goes off about the lesson, and his mind goes on about you. Wanderer couldn't care less if he missed information; he understands the material anyway. He simply wants to think of you right now.

Suddenly, the students around him shoot up from their seats, grabbing their things and head for the door, and he follows in suit with the smile wiped off of his face. As he passes through the room, a few people gawk at him, but he dismisses them. Wanderer would only allow you to gawk at him.

He left the Akademiya immediately, running off to some secluded spot where the other students wouldn’t bother him and have him snap out of his thoughts. As of late, he found himself enjoying his days a little more whenever he had some time to himself, especially when he thought of you during that snippet of time. Yet, this time, he doesn’t have to simply think of you. Walking down the path to the ground-leveled city, Wanderer saw you around the corner. You were talking to someone, but a flurry of heartbeats synced with the swirling thoughts racing through all at once. The feeling gets annoying because he basically runs into you every other day, but he acts as though he hasn’t seen you in years. There’s a sudden skip in his heart that forces him down the pathway a little faster to startle you with his approach. Wanderer always found it amusing whenever you’d jump out of your skin at his sudden appearance–

But this time was different. Wanderer stopped and stood idle.

Just why was the General Mahamatra holding your arm like that? From the angle he stood at, he couldn’t see the wound on your arm, but something shot down every ounce of excitement and confidence he had in himself. He felt cheated on, but you weren’t even dating him! Cyno notices him from the distance and lets go of your arm, almost glaring at the boy. You, following in suit, turn around to see Wanderer. Even with that fabulous feeling wasted away, Wanderer still looked at you like you were the only important person to exist. You’re graceful in the way you turn his way, but your wound catches his eye quickly. Is that why Cyno held you like that? Because he was scolding you or something? Either way, that’s what Wanderer is about to do with you. He storms over to you, enraged, worried, and ready to ravage the whole universe to find who hurt you…

And it turns out it was just some Mitachurl that you abolished soon after you had gotten hurt.

“Kuni, if you’re just so worried about me, why not stick by me more often? Besides, we run into each other basically every day now.”

“You can be my travel buddy, I guess!”

“That’s stupid.” But he’d still want to be yours.

Cyno dismisses Wanderer and gets him off of your arm, and you’re escorted elsewhere (as Wanderer glares from the distance at Cyno). He thinks for a few moments but ultimately decides to return to the Sanctuary of Surasthana to pay Nahida a little visit…

STAGE 3 - him planning the confession.

➥ Nahida, when asked, simply told Wanderer to bring you over to some nice, secluded spot and tell you how he feels. He’s been told that the confession doesn’t have to be anything big, but maybe just some nice scenery would do you both some good. Wanderer slightly hoped that Nahida would tell him not to confess, but he knows her better than that. The plan, when made, was simple: he'll ask when you're free, then he'll take you to some nice spot nearby, sit you down as he takes his seat, and he tells you how he feels. 

Now, does that sound appealing to Wanderer?

No, of course not.

Wanderer would prefer it if he just didn’t tell you at all. Feelings are awkward for him because he’s not used to romance. He’s not used to anything positive or good coming his way. Wanderer has walls of brick to seal his heart away to prevent further emotional pain. There’s no way he would tear all of that down just to be with you.

“But it’s already broken!” Nahida says with a cheeky smile, startling Wanderer.

“What?”

“Sorry,” the archon giggles, “I read your mind just now. What I mean to say is that you already trust them enough as is! The walls you’ve built have already been broken?”

“It’s still stupid, anyways. What if they don’t even reciprocate? Then what would I do?”

Nahida scratches her head a little, thinking of all of the experiences that she’s witnessed over the past two years of her freedom.

“Isn’t that what confession also determines? You let them know that they like you, and then you learn if they reciprocate or if they don’t.”

Thus, after a small debate with himself and Nahida, Wanderer decided to… Simply tell you how he feels. Shouldn’t be that hard, right? Though, when he finds himself unable to bring up a potential day to choose, Nahida asks you when you’re free, and thus the plan is initiated.

All that’s left to do is wait, prepare, and execute.

STAGE 4 - the confession.

➥ The morning of the plan arose. The break of dawn and the sunrise’s sunlight spilled across Teyvat all at once. The cold corpse of the moon faded with the blue sky, and Wanderer was all but asleep. In fact, he was frantic– panicking, not even a drop of sleep soaked into him. He’s, despite refusing to admit it, terrified of meeting you at that vantage point and possibly getting humiliated after letting his feelings pour. 

Wanderer walks out of the dorm provided by the Akademiya and takes a stroll. It’s still early, and not too many people are outside yet. The air isn’t cold, it’s less humid than usual, but it’s still cooler than usual– the slightly-frosted breeze brushing against his porcelain arms. He can’t feel the cold, but he still shivers with the pressure of what might happen.

“Kuni?” Your semi-groggy voice calls out to him. He turns around, and he feels his chest nearly explode.

“You? Why are you up so early?”

“I dunno, Nahida told me to meet up with you later today, so I wanted to go out to get you something.”

Get him something? His could’ve-been-heart pounds in his chest.

“Why did you want to meet with me anyway?” You walk over to him, meeting his pace.

“I’ll tell you later. No snooping around yet.”

“Why?” A sly, teasing smile grows on your face. “Are you going to romantically confess your undying love to me under the blissful moonlight at your favorite romance novel scenery with a slow breeze hitting us? Oh, will there be flowers for me, too?” You smirk, and Wanderer looks at you with a fake look of disgust on his face. However, at that last question, he breaks his face… Slightly.

“That’s a good idea.” He quietly blurts, thinking of possible flowers to give you.

“...What?”

“Huh? What?”

“You’re planning to–” You stammer, a red blush dusting your features.

“Wha–?"

And then Wanderer realizes what he just did.

[wolviensabes]

Pajamas and Lingerie.

RQ: 'Been thinking abt the idea of the reader surprising Logan with Deadpool themed lingerie of PJs to annoy him and then BAM it’s now single wear bc he’s jealous 🤭 If you wanna write it, I’d love to see your take on this req 💖💖' - @smokeywhalee

Warnings: 18+ MDNI ; F!reader, spanking, fingering, slight orgasm denial, some teasing and dominant Logan. Did not edit, possibly later ignore errors ty.

A/N: Sorry this took forever. I'm working on multiple requests at once so I try to get out as many as I can. Jealous Lo is my fav <3 I hope it's okay I made it nsfw, I couldn't help it. I hope you enjoy this one!

WC: 2.1k

"Oh god," Logan growled out with deep annoyance and disgust at what you wore. Red pajamas with Deadpool's mask printed all over them. He could see the lingerie portion on top, and your pajama pants were covering the lacy bottoms you had on. Still, he stared with rooted irritation at the fact you were decked out in Wade's colors and his damned mask printed all over you.

"You don't like them?" You feigned, tilting your head and spinning in a circle, Logan's eyes staring at you with a blank, unamused expression. The man shifted where he was on the bed and scoffed at you.

"Where the hell did you even get those?" He asked, taking a drag of his cigar. Part of his tone said that he didn't really want to know, but he asked regardless. He had a weird feeling Wade had them made for you so it would irritate him. Well, that walking mouth succeeded in annoying Logan.

"Wade made them for me," you replied with a smile, bingo. Right on the money.

"Take that off. I don't wanna see his damn fact plastered on ya." He waved his hand at you, almost as if to shoo you away. You could tell he was starting to come to a bad mood, so you tried to sweeten it up. "I have pajamas for you too~"

His head shot up and he grunted deeply, "Hell no."

"Come on, please?" you begged, drawing out your pleads and doing the very best puppy eyes look you could muster. It wasn't enough for Logan, whom turned away and scoffed.

'That ain't gonna work, pup." He took another drag of the cigar he had and gave you a short glare. "And what did I say? Take those off. Or I will." His tone was set and firm, yet...you couldn't help but feel yourself clench. God he was hot when he was annoyed.

"What if I don't?" you retorted bravely, feeling a surge of defiance that made you feel like a brat. This unexpected challenge caught Logan's attention immediately, and he turned his head back to you with a swift, almost predatory motion. The intense look in his eyes made you stiffen, your breath catching in your throat, and a strange mix of fear and excitement boiled in your belly. His gaze seemed to pierce through you, making your heart race even faster.

"Come here." he said firmly, putting the cigar down, his finger pointing down to the ground in front of him. You stiffened and swallowed, you felt nervous but excited, looking forward to where this was going. You could see the fire burning in his eyes, staring at your choice of pajamas.

The moment you were in front of him, he grabbed you and he made a fist with his other hand, those silver claws shooting out like bullets. He carefully let them drag across your abdomen, right above the waistline of the pajama bottoms before he pushed them down and he tore them off you. The bottoms turned into stray pieces of uneven fabric by the time he was done. He let out some steam once they were off you, going as far as tearing pieces into even smaller ones.

"Fuckin' Wade put you up to this...thinks it's funny to have ya wear his face?" Logan glared up at you, "You like gettin' me worked up, is that it? You little brat." He grabbed you and he pulled you over his knee. "Well, if you wanna be a brat...then I'll treat you like one."

You barely had time to register what was going on before his rough hand came down on your ass. It didn't hurt, it was sort of like a warning or experimental smack. When his hand collided with your backside you let out a natural gasp from the sensation. Your cheeks burned from embarrassment and arousal. He took his cigar up and took a long drag from it once more, the smell took some getting used to at first, but it was more tolerable than a cigarette, plus it mixed with his natural musk well.

"Naughty girl. You like this don't you? Pissin' me off..." he growled out and smacked your ass again, a little harder this time. His calloused hand marked your ass with each smack. Those precious little sounds you made urged him on, making him smirk with satisfaction as you wriggled around. Your hands searched for something to grab, he watched the pretty skin of your ass turn red and he grinned.

"Not so bratty now, are ya?" he huffed and stopped after a handful of spanks, looking down at you as you tried to squirm out of his lap. "Not so fast, princess. Sit still and take it." Logan ordered you, feeling the round of your ass and rubbing the red skin. He dipped his fingers down and he felt between your soft legs, letting out a short laugh, nearly a snort. "Wet, huh?"

"S-shut up..." you blushed darkly from shame, you didn't know how turned on you'd be from being spanked. You hadn't been spanked before, maybe you got spanked once or twice as a child, but it was so long ago you had forgotten about it. You knew Logan wouldn't let you live this down either, he was eating this up and he'd probably tease you forever.

Before another thought could cross your mind, his thick fingers pressed into your pussy, they stroked your slit before pushing into your tight hole. It made you gasp in surprise, you were so wet he didn't have to spit on his fingers at all. Two of his fingers slowly pumped you before working up to a quicker pace. You let out moan after moan, occasionally making a sweet squeal as he expertly curled against that special spot deep inside.

"Logan! Mmn, ugh, fuck..." Your hands found the sheets and fisted them tight. Your hips lifted off his lap slightly and pushed into his hand, your clear need and eagerness wasn't unnoticed. In fact, it just urged the primal mutant on even more. His fingers curled against that spot again, making your shaking legs stiffen as pleasure shot through your body.

"There it is," he continued to curl his fingers, that sweet, spongy spot that gave you so much pleasure was being constantly stimulated. "He ain't gonna get ya like this, ever. You wanna tease me, get me to make ya shake and whine?" Logan's words filled your head but honestly the pleasure you were getting from his fingers kept you from responding normally.

"Answer me." he laid a light smack with his free hand, grunting at you. Your brain was mush, god his fingers were thick and perfect inside you. The way he was manhandling you so much and spanking you like the brat you were was so hot, your pussy clearly told him how you felt.

He wasn't satisfied with just those nice sounds you made, so he grabbed your right leg and flipped you, you laid on your back now and his fingers returned to your warm cavern, listening to how wet you sounded as his fingers worked you. "So needy...your face is so red. Do you like this pretty girl? You like when I handle ya around?"

"Uh-huh...." you nodded, pathetically trying to respond. By now your inner thighs were soaked and you coated his fingers and palm with your juices, he looked at your pussy and gently pulled up on the skin, looking at your clit. The bud was swollen and a little redder than normal, clearly wanting stimulation. He tilted his head and smiled, the pad of his thumb gently teasing it and rolling over it in circles.

"Logan!" You couldn't help the moan and buck your hips into his touch, he knew what he was fucking doing. Giving you just enough, but not too much to push you over the edge. It was so frustrating. You whined and squirmed, trying to encourage him to give you more with your little hip movements and whimpering. The bastard kept his smug smile as he watched you, feeling satisfied with himself.

"Use your words, princess. I can't read your mind, do I look like Chuck?" he carefully circled your clit with his index finger, his other hand kept two buried in your wet cunt, slowing the movements and watching your desperation grow with each passing second.

It took all the willpower in you not to scream at him to let you cum already. You knew better than to demand something from him, the more you demanded something from him, the more he'd withdraw it from you. You couldn't make him let you cum, he uses denial as a punishment, and god does he love punishing you with something so simple, yet effective.

"Don't think I forgot what you came in with. You think it's funny to tease me with something like that?" he asked, his fingers pressed up into your sweet spot, but they were still. The light pressure send electric shocks down to your toes, it wasn't enough. You needed more. You needed him to let you cum, you hoped he'd show you mercy.

Your eyes burned with tears as you whimpered and whined, really pouting like a child. Like the brat you were. The desperate, needy, pitiful little brat. It just made him smirk down at you, his hand moved from your clit to your breast, gently groping and then pinching your nipple. He listened to the new sound you made, his fingers rolling the bud around. "Maybe I'll just play with these, let you get so, so wet and beg for me..."

"Nooo," you whined, just like the needy girl he turned you into. He knew just how to work you, just what to do, just where to touch. He knew you like the back of his hand, and he memorized every inch of you. Literally inside, and out.

"Come on...beg. I know you want to." Logan chuckled and leaned closer, setting the cigar down and blowing the smoke away. The smoke tickled your nose as it barely blew over your face. "Come on...you like it don't you? Just beg, a few little words..."

"Please! Please, just let me cum already!" you whined out to him, your hips unable to keep still by now. You could feel the obvious boner in his jeans and knew he wasn't going to hold back for long if you continued your little movements.

Logan sighed, looking down and giving you a scolding glance, "No, no...that's not good enough sweetheart. Beg like you mean it." His fingers slowly began to retract and your eyes widened. All hell...

"No! Don't take them out...fuck! Fine!" You groaned loudly, "Please, let me cum...please, I need it...look at me!" You couldn't help yourself, you sounded so pitiful, your watery eyes looked at him and silently pleaded for him to make you cum.

Your pleading was satisfying enough. Logan's fingers plunged back and curled up, that sweet motion that you needed. Your gasp and eager bucking urged him on, and he toyed with your sensitive clit. His finger rubbing it in just the right way you liked. You had enough slick for his calloused pad to slide all over it and the texture of his finger felt just as good.

"Cum for me, princess. You begged for it," Logan growled out, looking at your red face, your cheeks damp from the intense pleasure. "Pretty girl, that's it...I feel you're getting close..." His fingers could feel you clenching and you were more slick now, your body preparing for your impending orgasm. Your chest rose and fell, he watched your chest as it moved and he chuckled, his fingers doing a little bit more and...there it came.

You cried out, your back arched and you moaned loudly. Your pussy tightened and you came all over his fingers, soaking his hand and lap. Your gentle voice cried his name in ecstasy, Logan groaned and he was painfully pressed against his zipper. "Goddamn..." he grunted, withdrawing his fingers when your body relaxed. He pulled his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean, making you mewl and cover your face. "Good girl...look at this mess you made..."

The whimper that left your trembling lip was barely audible as you sat up and looked at the soaked spot below you, his jeans were wet and you could see his hard on struggling to remain contained in his jeans. He grunted and palmed himself as he carefully sat up, looking down at you. "I think you need another little punishment for that, don't you agree?" His dark gaze eyed the pajama pants you brought in for him, a low snarl escaping his lips and he gave a slight eye roll.

"I need to remind you who you belong to, princess...and you will wear me instead of that..." he growled, leaning over you as he pulled you closer, your bare pussy rubbed his jeans and felt how hot he was around his crotch. "What do you say, sweetheart...hm?"

"Please..." you barely got out, knowing what you are in for. Jealous Logan was about to ruin you.

"Good girl..."

Thanks for reading.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

[fvllingflower]

「My Boy」

pairing: idol!joshua afab!reader

genre: smut

warning: pda, making out, boob/nipple play, spanking, groping (boobs & ass), hickeys, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap that willy), dick riding, creampie, aftercare

song recommendation: bed chem by sabrina carpenter

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You waited in the dressing room for your boyfriend who was close to finishing his performance with his team. You watched Seventeen perform on the TV in the room, you couldn't help but smile at how proud you were of them. You saw them bow and leave the stage. You stood up from the couch and stood near the entrance of the dressing room for your boyfriend. One by one the sweaty men came in but the minute you saw the face of the man you love more than anything you ran to hug him. Despite Joshua being exhausted from the performance, he still wore that beautiful smile that you love so much. As you had your arms around his waist, he had his arms around your shoulder blades.

"You did amazing, baby" You smiled happily.

"Thank you, love" Joshua kissed your forehead.

"Mm I'm so proud of you, you know that?" You moved your arms to hug his neck instead and so he hugged your waist instead.

"I know, love, and I'm so glad to have you" Joshua pecked your lips.

"I love you" You kept a smile on your face.

"I love you too, love" Joshua reached up to caress your cheek.

You and Joshua sat in the back of the van as you two went back to hotel as the others went out to eat. Joshua couldn't help but notice the baby blue skirt you had on along with one of his shirts. You were looking out the window when you felt Joshua place his large hand on your thigh. You looked over at his hand placement and smiled softly. Joshua kissed the side of your head before you went back to observe the German buildings. His thumb was rubbing circles against your thigh and he slowly inched his hand higher up. Joshua's hand stopped at the hem of the skirt and he moved his hand to hold your inner thigh and trace circles with his thumb there. You hummed softly at his gentle movements. Your eyes tore away from the window and you looked at the handsome man beside you.

"You're so handsome" You mumbled and Joshua just gave you that heart warming smile.

"Mm and you're so beautiful" He pecked your lips. The short peck wasn't enough for you so you kissed him softly. Joshua smiled as you kissed him and he moved his hand off your thigh and onto your hip while your hand rested against his cheek. You two continued to repeatedly kiss slowly and just enjoy the closeness. His hand began to rub your side in a slow pace. Your hand moves to rest on his shoulder as you continued to sensually kiss. Joshua's hand slowly creeps up from your side and up to your chest where he cups your breast. You broke the kiss and grabbed his hand.

"Uh-uh-uh, not here baby" You whispered against his lips. Joshua whines softly but agrees.

"Okay, love" Joshua slightly pouts and you pecked his lips.

"I love you" You smiled softly and that got rid of his pouty expression and turned into his gentle smile.

"I love you too" Joshua pecked your lips.

You two got back to the shared hotel room and Joshua quickly went to plop down on the bed. You chuckled softly at his behavior and quickly followed behind and laid down on the bed. Joshua turned his head and smiled at you. He proped himself up on his elbow as his free hand rest on your belly and then on your side as you roll on your side to face him.

"You look really good in my clothes" Joshua mumbled softly. You cracked a smile.

"Mm I know, baby, you never fail to tell me" You looked at him with loving eyes. Joshua chuckled softly.

"Can't blame me, I just want to tell you the truth" You couldn't help but chuckle a little.

"Well I appreciate having an honest boyfriend" You scooted closer to him.

"Mm I'll always be honest with you, that's a promise I can keep" He smiled and pulled you flush against him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and smiled softly.

"Good" You whispered before pecking his lips. Joshua moved to sit up in bed and he picked you up and made you straddle his lap. He kept his arms around your waist to keep you secure and you hugged his neck to stay in place.

"You look so pretty when you're in my lap" Joshua smiled softly.

"Mm I know, baby, you like it when I'm close to you" You smiled at him sweetly.

"Of course I do. Who wouldn't want a goddess on her throne?" Joshua gave you a cheeky smile.

"My throne is your lap?" You mirrored his smile.

"Mhm, indeed" You leaned down and kissed him softly.

"You know, it's even better when the goddess shows off her complete beauty" Joshua whispered against your lips before kissing you again. You knew Joshua was referring to you being completely naked while on his lap.

"Mm but I think it's more exciting when the goddess is completely covered and slowly reveals her complete beauty" You whispered seductively against his lips before kissing him again.

You two went back to the slowly, sensual kissing like you were doing in the car but this time there's no restrictions. Joshua's hands roamed your back and his hands go under your skirt and lands on your ass where he gently squeezes the flesh. After a few squeezes on your ass, his hands went back to roaming your curves. He held onto your hips for a while until his hands decided to go to your breasts. Joshua cups your breasts and this time you didn't stop him. He began to squeeze your tits as you continue to slowly make out. You quickly stripped your shirt off and revealed your bra. Joshua began to press gentle kisses against your neck while his hands continued to play with your tits. You were smiling with pleasure as he continued to touch and kiss you. You tugged on his shirt and helped him strip it off. Joshua reached behind you and in one swift motion, he unclasped your bra and threw it on the floor.

"Mm so pretty" He began to knead your tits. You could feel your breathing getting heavier from the pleasure.

"You have the most perfect tits, love" Joshua rubbed his thumbs over your sensitive nipples which caused you to gasp.

He kissed you softly as he tugged at your nipples. Joshua wanted you to gasp and moan in his mouth, he wanted to swallow your pretty noises. He broke the kiss and leaned down to take one of your tits into his mouth. Joshua begins to suck on your mound and his tongue teases your sensitive bud. You were moaning softly as he teased your nipples with his mouth and fingers. Your hands gripped his shoulders as he began to roughly tug and nibble on your nipples. Joshua slightly pulled on your nipple with his teeth causing you to gasp in delight. He popped your tit out of his mouth and scattered kisses against your chest while his hands roughly kneaded your tits.

"Mm am I making you feel good, darling?" Joshua presses kisses up your neck.

"Shit...yes, baby" Your voice was airy.

"I can tell...I love seeing you enjoying yourself" Joshua nipped at your neck. You gasped feeling his teeth on your skin again.

"I love how responsive you are" He whispered against your neck before leaving a mark there and pinching your nipples.

"Uuh...shit" You moaned softly. Joshua's hands trail down from your chest to inside your skirt. He felt how wet you are and he smirked, loving the fact he is causing this. Joshua began to rub your clit through your panties. You laid your forehead against his shoulder while your hands grips his biceps. You were moaning and letting out profanities against his shoulder as Joshua continued to use his skillful fingers.

"You sound so pretty" Joshua continued to leave love bites on your skin while playing with your clothed clit. You continued to moan softly at the pleasure.

"Can't help myself when you look so sexy in that skirt" Joshua continued to whisper dirty praises.

Suddenly Joshua pulled you off his lap and made you sit beside him and he quickly stripped your skirt and panties off. He wrapped his arm around your waist, he spread your legs wide and let one leg rest on his lap. Joshua began to make out with you as his fingers went back to playing with your clit. He was swallowing your moans as he continued to attack your lips. Joshua without warning pushed two fingers into your hole and began fingering you. You wrapped your arms around his neck and continued to kiss him while moaning into his mouth. His hand that rest on your waist move to cup your tit and kneading the mound. Joshua wanted to continue adding to your pleasure, he loves making you feel so good. Joshua increased the speed of his fingers as he added a third finger into your hole. You broke the kiss and moaned a little louder than normal. Joshua started whispering dirty things along with sweet praises in your ear as he continued to finger fuck you and pinching your nipple. He felt your walls clamp around his fingers and he knew you were close. You moaned loudly as you came undone on his fingers. Joshua continued to thrust his fingers into you as released.

"Look at you...so pretty and messy for me" Joshua nipped at your neck and pulled his fingers out of you and sucked his fingers clean. You were smiling as you were panting. Joshua leaned over and kissed you passionately, letting you taste yourself on his lips. You held his face as you kissed him as his hand rubbed your side. You broke the kiss and smiled at him.

"Need to ride you..." You whispered against his lips and Joshua smirked.

"Yeah? Need to ride me? Going to show me how bad you need me?" He spoke in a seductive way as he pulled down his sweatpants and boxers. You helped him strip them off and throw them on the floor. You looked at his hard erection, how red, veiny, and thick he is. You got back on top of him and let his dick stretch you out.

"Uuuh...you're so warm" Joshua groaned. You begin grinding your hips in a desperate way. Joshua gripped your hips and helps you ride him.

"Oh fuck, love— look at you, riding me so well" Joshua groans as he praises you. Joshua leans down and sucks on your tit as grind your hips.

"Uuuh Joshua..." You moaned softly. Your nails digging into his shoulders. After a few nips and tugs on your nipple, he pulls away and pulls you into a heated kiss, your hips not stopping their movement for a second. His hands traveled down your chest, to your side, and to your ass. Joshua starts gripping your ass, helping your movements, and spanking you every once in a while.

"Ahh fuck" You moaned louder. Joshua wrapped his arms around you as he laid back on the bed and he grabbed your hips and began bouncing you on his cock as he thrusts upwards.

"Oh fuck— Joshua" You cried out in pleasure as his sharp and rough thrusts. You threw you head back and letting out your loud moans.

"Fuck— so good" Joshua groaned loudly. He loved watching your tits bounce in a rapid pace and feeling your ass shake as he fucks you good.

"Ahhh— Joshua" You moaned loudly, not caring if anyone in the hotel could hear. Joshua felt your walls clamp around his cock, making him moan loudly. He knows you're close and he loves it. Joshua slows his thrusts, taking it slow. You leaned down and gripped his shoulders as you start bouncing your ass on his dick. You were desperate for your release and Joshua threw his head back.

"Oh fuck— ride that dick, love" Joshua groaned and slapped your ass, encouraging you to go faster and that you did.

"Ahh fuck!" You moaned directly in his ear. Your movements became sloppier as you got closer and closer to your release. Before you could warn him, you came on his cock and Joshua sat up to leave a hickey on your collarbone as you sat there on him. Joshua began to thrust up inside you again and this time you hugged his neck and buried your face in the crook of his neck. He gripped your ass, helping you bounce on his cock as he thrusts upwards.

"Uuuuh— Fuck, you feel so good" Joshua groaned as he got closer to his climax. You were moaning softly against his neck. Joshua thrust up and stays in place as he fills you up. You whimpered softly and Joshua moaned as he came inside you. He relaxed his body and let you relax against him while his cock was still deep inside you. Joshua was scattering delicate kisses across your shoulders, neck, and cheeks.

"You're so beautiful" Joshua whispered as he rubs your back and you snuggled closer.

"I love you. You're so precious. All mine" He whispered some more praises. Joshua lifted you up and pulled out of you, letting your mixed releases spill out of you.

"Mmm..." You whined at the lose of fullness.

"Shh...it's okay, just relax, love" Joshua whispered and kissed the top of your head while rubbing your back still.

"You're so beautiful. So beautiful and all mine" He pecked your pouty lips which made you smile lazily.

"There's that beautiful smile" Joshua smiled seeing you smile.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up" Joshua kissed your forehead and carried you into the bathroom.

You two took a shower together and Joshua helped wash you. After the shower Joshua helped dry you off and put some clothes on. You two laid in bed, you were wearing one of Joshua's shirts and some clean panties while Joshua only wore some basketball shorts. You were cuddled up with him with your head against his chest, arm on his side and leg draped over him. Joshua kept his arms around your waist and gently rubbing circles on your back. You had a lazy smile on your face, just feeling content and loved.

"I love you" Joshua kissed your forehead.

"Mm...I love you too" You hummed softly.

[soundsofcheolie]

How Did We End Up Here? | LC | Oneshot

Pairing: Lee Chan x Female!Reader  Genre|tags: Oneshot, non idol!au, comedy, fluff, pinning, down bad Chan, acquaintances to lovers, smut.  Word count: 18.9k+ Rating: Explicit adult content (MINORS DNI). Warnings: Explicit language, alcohol consumption, allusion to use of weed, mentions of cheating, Chan is down bad to the point he is doubting himself, there's a Gilmore Girls reference and several 5sos song lyrics referenced as well (if you know, you know), reader has an unspoken noona kink, switch!chan, switch!reader, dry humping, oral (f. receiving), fingering, face sitting, pussy eating, cum eating, teasing, unprotected sex (you know it’s bad), creampie. If there’s more please let me know. A/N: Happy birthday to my baby (even though he's older than me lol)! I wrote this story in a complete state of mania—the idea hit me, and in less than four days, it was finished. I thought posting it today, for his birthday, would be a good idea. I accidentally posted it earlier while scheduling, but I'm ignoring that little mishap hehe. Please read my final notes!! Enjoy reading, and let me know what you think! <3 🎧 Now listening to: end up here – 5 seconds of summer; i would – one direction; obviously – mcfly; loverboy – a-wall; best friend – rex orange county; espresso – sabrina carpenter; out of my limit – 5 seconds of summer; shup and dance – walk the moon; heart out – the 1975; intoxicated – the cab; wait – dino. Read on AO3

Summary: Lee Chan has had a massive crush on you since the day he first saw you. He never thought he'd have a chance with you, since you were so obviously out of his league, but it turns out life has a way of writing the right things with crooked lines.

He knew the exact moment you walked into the house. At this point, it was as if he had a sixth sense for your presence—like a Y/N sense, if he had to name it.

Not that it was hard to tell when you did, since every face in the room turned the moment you walked in. Most people already knew who you were, and those who didn’t? Their expressions made it clear: they were dying to find out.

There was this energy about you that demanded attention, even when you weren’t trying. It wasn’t just the way you carried yourself, though that certainly played a part. It was the way people gravitated toward you, their eyes lingering, their conversations subtly shifting as if they were waiting for you to say something, to do something. 

And he—well, he had always been attuned to it. To you. Even before he truly understood why.

Tonight, when you walked through the doors of the frat house he was part of, wearing a tight black corset-style top, a short skirt that did little to cover your legs, and black thigh-high boots that made your legs appear even longer than they already were, looking absolutely breathtaking, Chan felt his head spin.

It could have been the ten shots of tequila he’d been forced to drink after losing some random game against Yeonjun a couple of minutes ago, but he knew it wasn’t. That was simply the effect you’d had on him since the day he first laid eyes on you—orientation day, two years ago. You had been in charge of welcoming the freshmen to their dorm building, and when you smiled at him like he was the most important guy there, he was a goner.

Of course he knew you were probably just doing your job as a sophomore, but still, your smile had been stuck in his mind ever since.

“Pathetic,” he heard Seungkwan's voice, followed by a slap on the back of his head.

Chan barely flinched, too busy pressed against the wall watching you every move as you wave through the crowded room like you owned the place. For him, in a way, you did. You weren’t loud about it, didn’t strut around making a scene, but there was an undeniable pull to you, one that made people shift to make space, one that had them leaning in, hoping for even a sliver of your attention.

And him? He was no better than the rest of them.

He tore his gaze away just long enough to shoot Seungkwan, who was looking at him like he was the saddest excuse for a man to ever exist, a glare. Vernon was right beside him, looking high enough to be in another dimension, and yet, was still wearing the same expression as the eldest of the three. 

“What?”

Seungkwan sighed dramatically, crossing his arms. “You look like a lovesick puppy. Again.”

It was no secret to anyone that Lee Chan had a huge, enormous and gigantic crush on you. If he was being honest, by this point, it was a surprise you didn’t know—which he had some doubts—, since he wasn’t exactly very skilled at hiding it. 

Not that he was openly hitting on you when he had the chance, because that was far from his reality. Very far, really. He had never done so and whenever he had a chance to be near you or participate in the same conversation as you, he would turn just as red as the lipstick you were wearing tonight, not to mention the stuttering he didn't even know he had. 

It was a mess. He was a mess. 

Not that he would admit that to Seungkwan, anyway. 

Chan scoffed, forcing himself to straighten up. “I do not look like a lovesick puppy.”

Seungkwan snorted. “Yeah, and I’m a background vocalist for Beyoncé.”

“You do,” Vernon said, deadpanned. “Minho just asked me if you were okay because, and I quote, ‘Chan looks like he just got hit by a truck.’”

Seungkwan tilted his head to the side, nudging him with his elbow. “Chan-ah, are you seriously gonna spend the rest of your college years pining after this girl?” 

His face flushed, a mixture of embarrassment and frustration tugging at him. Chan opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. Because what was he supposed to say? That he wasn’t pining? That he wasn’t completely, utterly, hopelessly gone for you? Even he wasn’t delusional enough to deny it.

Seungkwan, apparently sensing his internal struggle, let out a long-suffering sigh. “That’s what I thought.”

Chan scowled, lifting his drink to his lips if only to hide his face and Vernon chuckled, clearly enjoying the way his younger friend was unraveling under the pressure of their teasing.

“Just go talk to her,” he said, voice slow and lazy. “She doesn’t bite, dude.”

“Easy for you to say,” Chan muttered, his eyes flickering back to you, who were now chatting with your friends in the corner. “She’s your friend.”

Oh yeah, there was also this little detail: you were Vernon’s classmate. 

Not only were you both seniors, you were also majoring in the same program—linguistics—meaning you shared the vast majority of your classes. Chan knew you were in the same study group and that you were paired up for most of the projects, which had led to a friendship that he very much envied.

You might think that having a mutual friend would make things easier for him, but you’d be completely wrong. Soon he discovered that Vernon wasn’t willing to help. Not because he didn’t believe Chan had a chance with you, but because he insisted that Chan should grow a pair and talk to you himself.

Which of course, he had already shown incapability of doing so thousands of times. 

Seungkwan clicked his tongue. “You really are pathetic.”

“Hyung—” Chan groaned. 

“I mean, come on,” Seungkwan interrupted, trying to finish his point. “You can deadlift three plates but you can’t say one sentence to a girl you like?”

Chan glared at him. “That is not the same thing.”

“Yeah, one requires actual effort,” Vernon added, smirking.

By now, he was used to all the teasing from his friends. It didn’t keep him from wanting to strangle them any less though. 

Either way, there wasn’t much he could do. It wasn’t just about the amount of courage he had or how much effort he put into it; crushing on you for the last two years had felt like playing a game he was destined to lose. Even though in the deepest desires of his mind he was your boyfriend, that role was already filled by someone much older than him. 

A Marine dude, apparently. His name? Chan didn’t care. 

Not only was he the most lucky dude on the planet by having you as his girl, he was also tall, strong and a walking definition of everything Chan wasn’t: confident, assertive, the complete opposite of the shy mess he’d been around you since day one. He would probably kill Chan without warning if he could peek into his mind and see all the dreams he had about you. 

And the guy irritated the fuck out of him. Something about his attitude, his hundred tattoos, the fact that he was probably three times his height, and the way he marked his territory by walking you to every class, every day. Like, damn, dude, we get it, she’s yours. At least let the rest of us appreciate the divine gift the universe sent us by looking at her.

Every time Chan saw him, he felt like he was suffocating under the weight of the competition. The worst part? You didn’t seem happy with him and everyone knew it. And even though it was clear from every word and every look that you were completely unaware of Chan’s feelings, the thought of you with someone else—someone like him—made his insides twist in ways he didn’t know he could feel.

“She has a boyfriend,” Chan said out loud, feeling a bitter taste on the tip of his tongue as he did. 

“So?” Seungkwan arched an eyebrow. “I don’t see him here. Do you?”

He directed his last question to Vernon, who just shrugged and shook his head. “Nope.”

Chan swallowed hard, eyes darting toward you again. Sure enough, there was no sign of your boyfriend. Not that he was about to get his hopes up. He had enough self-awareness to know he was probably just grasping at straws, because even if he never existed at all, Chan still wasn’t sure he’d have the guts to walk up to you.

“Look, man,” Seungkwan said, breaking through his dark thoughts. “You’ve gotta stop comparing yourself to him. You’re Lee Chan. You have a million things going for you, and besides…” He paused for effect. “You’re way better looking.”

“Thanks for the support,” Chan replied dryly, rolling his eyes.

Vernon chimed in, “Seriously, dude. You’re smart, funny, and way more likable than that guy. You just need to show her that.”

Chan sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “It's not that simple, guys.”

“It is that simple,” Seungkwan shot back. “You’re making it complicated.”

Before Chan could argue, the music shifted, the bass thrumming through the floorboards, and a new wave of partygoers stumbled in, laughing and chattering loudly. His attention snapped back to you, just in time to see you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, your lips curling into a soft smile at something one of your friends said. The sight alone made his pulse quicken.

Then, as if you could feel his eyes on you, your gaze flickered up and locked onto his.

Chan froze.

It wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t just a glance that skimmed over the room, landing on him by chance. No, this was intentional. You looked at him like you had known he was there all along, like you’d expected to find him in that exact spot, leaning against the wall with a drink in hand and his friends at his side.

And then, as if to send him straight into cardiac arrest, your lips, marked by the most beautiful shade of red he had ever seen, curved into a smile. 

For a split second, it felt like the entire world blurred around the edges, muffled voices fading into static. Your eyes lingered, holding his in a way that sent a rush of heat down his spine. Then, just as quickly as it happened, you turned back to your friend, your fingers wrapping around the red cup in your hand as if nothing had transpired.

He was sure he had just checked off a box on the list of clichés where the lovestruck fool forgets how to breathe. His fingers tightened around the red cup in his hand, his heartbeat hammering so loudly he was certain Seungkwan and Vernon could hear it.

Chan looked away just a second before he heard, “She’s coming over,” Vernon said, and for once, his voice didn’t sound amused. It sounded almost surprised.

He blinked, breaking free from whatever trance he had fallen into. “What?”

Seungkwan’s hand landed on his shoulder, shaking him once. “She. Is. Coming. Over.”

He barely had a second to react before you started making your way through the crowd, weaving between bodies with practiced ease, heading straight toward them. The air in the room seemed to thicken with every step you took in his direction, and though he told himself to stay cool, to not let it show, he knew the battle was already lost. His grip on his cup tightened, his pulse a frantic rhythm beneath his skin.

Seungkwan shifted beside him. “Oh, this is gonna be good,” he muttered, half under his breath.

“Act normal,” Chan whispered to himself. Or at least he thought so. 

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Vernon mumbled. 

Chan shot him a sharp look, but before he could tell him to shut up, you were there—standing right in front of him, close enough that he caught the faint scent of your perfume, something so sweet and heady that made his head spin.

“Hello, boys,” you greeted them, your voice light but with a touch of something that made his breath catch. 

Trying to play it cool, Chan swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the red cup in his hand as he forced himself to meet your gaze. Up close, you were even more mesmerizing, your eyes alight with something he couldn’t quite place, the corners of your lips curving into the kind of smile that made his stomach flip.

“Hey,” he managed to say collectively with the other two, his voice steadier than he felt.

Beside him, Seungkwan looked like he was barely restraining himself from narrating the entire interaction like he was watching some kind of reality TV show on Netflix—Lee Chan’s Inferno, the live show. 

Your eyes flickered between the three of them briefly before settling back on Chan. 

“Nice party,” you said, flashing them a smile as you nodded towards the crowd of people scattered around their house. “Full house, I’ve been told.”

It was the first party the three of them had organized since the older members graduated, making them the hosts tonight. They hadn’t expected it to be a great success, but judging by the number of people in the house, it seemed they had been wrong.

“Thanks,” The three of them said in unison again and you let out a small laugh, raising your eyebrows in curiosity. 

“Are you guys okay? What are you drinking? I know for a fact Hansol is just as high as the Namsan Tower.” 

He knew you weren't just talking to him, but Chan was pretty sure his soul was leaving his body.

It wasn’t just that you were standing in front of him, looking every bit like you walked straight out of his dream, it was the way you were looking at him. Like you were actually interested in what he had to say, like he wasn’t just another person in this house; and like you weren’t effortlessly stealing the air from his lungs.  

Meanwhile, his brain? Completely fried.

Your laugh—soft, amused, and way too pretty—sent something dangerously warm through his chest. You tilted your head to the side, as if you were analyzing his face. “What’s your name?”

His world seemed to stop for a second. 

Even though the two of you weren’t close—or even friends—he was sure you knew his name. I mean, Vernon was his best friend. You were Vernon’s friend. You knew his name… right?

This was the worst possible scenario. The girl he had a crush on bigger than the entire Asian continent didn't know his name?

Yeah. The ground could open up and swallow him whole right now, and he wouldn’t even fight it.

This couldn’t be happening.

“You don’t know my name?” He didn’t even know he could finish a whole sentence around you, let alone a question, his voice somehow steady despite the absolute horror pooling in his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Seungkwan and Vernon exchanging looks—surprised, amused, and definitely holding back laughter.

“Oh, I know your name, Channie,” Your lips twitched, like you were trying not to laugh. “Just making sure you're still sober enough to remember it.”

Chan felt his face heat up instantly, a mix of relief and embarrassment washing over him all at once, brain barely registering the sweet way you said his name. Seungkwan outright cackled, slapping his knee, while Vernon just shook his head with a knowing smirk.

“Oh,” was all Chan managed to say at first, his brain short-circuiting at the way you looked at him, teasing, confident, completely in control of the situation. “Chan. Lee Chan.”

You tilted your head, clearly enjoying his reaction. “Good.” 

Suddenly, Chan was painfully aware of how close you were. Close enough that he could count the faint shimmer of highlight on your cheekbone, see the way your lashes fluttered when your gaze briefly flickered down to his mouth? No. He had to be imagining that. Maybe he had had a little too much tequila. Maybe it was time to put his cup down, go upstairs and sleep.

He blinked. Then, realized he had been silent for far too long. 

“I—uh—” he started, then immediately hated himself for it. He could already feel the tips of his ears getting hot from how red they possibly were.

“He's fine,” Seungkwan said for him. “We're all fine.”

You just smiled again, that knowing, unreadable smile that sent Chan’s pulse into overdrive. “If you say so.”

Vernon cleared his throat. “So, uh,” he started, clearly trying to fill the silence. “Are you having fun?”

“I just got here, actually,” you said, taking a slow sip from your cup. They already knew that, yet they nodded anyway, as if just finding out. “But everyone else seems to be having a lot of fun.”

The four of you glanced around the packed house, noting also the constant flow of guests coming and going through the front door. Some faces were familiar to Chan, ones he had seen somewhere on campus, while others were completely new. The living room was almost unrecognizable—dismantled, with couches pushed aside to make room for a dance floor. A mini bar had been set up in the corner, where a barman served specialty drinks, and even more booze filled the kitchen for those who wanted specific things. 

Everywhere he looked, people were jumping, grinding, kissing, chatting animatedly, smoking and drinking, while plastic cups littered the floor alongside crushed cigarette butts, joints, and scattered snacks trampled underfoot. Chan was so absorbed in your presence that he didn’t even think about the mess he’d eventually have to clean up after the party was over. 

The air was thick with the scent of alcohol, sweat, and perfume, and honestly, Chan was surprised none of the neighbors had called the police yet. Sure, Sigma Vita Tau’s annual homecoming parties were always packed, but this one was on another level, and he felt very proud of it.

The music thumped steadily, neon lights casting shifting colors over the crowd. Then Seungkwan threw out another question for you, so casually that Chan almost missed his intention. “Did you came alone?”

“Well, I came with Nayoung and Dahyun,” you replied, shrugging. “But I lost them somewhere by coming here to talk to you guys.”

Seungkwan shot Chan a look—one that screamed Don’t mess this up—before turning back to you with a knowing smile. “Ah, so you chose to be here with us instead of running off to find them?”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “I guess I did.”

Chan, who had been determinedly sipping his drink to avoid making a fool of himself, nearly choked. His mind latched onto your words like they meant something far deeper than casual conversation.

Seungkwan smirked. “Makes sense. We're great company.”

You grinned. “Exactly.”

“So your boyfriend’s…” Vernon trailed off.

“Not here.”

The words slipped out of your mouth like a subtle declaration, and just like that, Chan felt the weight of it. Your boyfriend wasn’t here. For some reason, the confirmation made him feel a little lighter, though he knew that was dangerous territory. 

He had no right to feel relieved. You weren’t his, after all.

Seungkwan raised his eyebrows, clearly intrigued. “Really?” He smirked. “No boyfriend? That’s new.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, unfazed by their teasing. “He’s busy with something, I guess.” 

You glanced down briefly, scratching behind your ear before your eyes flicked over to Chan, catching his gaze for a fraction of a second before he quickly looked away, embarrassed by the sudden spike in his heartbeat. 

“Ohhh,” Seungkwan dragged out, exchanging another look with Vernon. “So you’re free to enjoy the night however you want.”

You let out a soft hum, tilting your head slightly as if considering his words. “I suppose so.”

Chan took another sip of his drink, trying to play it cool once again, but his grip was a little too tight around the cup. His mind was running a mile a minute, filled with thoughts he probably shouldn’t be having.

“You seem awfully interested in that drink,” you suddenly pointed to his cup, raising a curious eyebrow and shifting your weight to one leg, one hand resting on your hip. “What are you drinking?”

Chan glanced down at the red cup in his hand like he’d never seen it before. In truth, he had no idea what was in it—he’d grabbed it off the counter earlier when someone shoved it at him, too distracted by your presence to care.

“Uh…” He swirled the liquid inside, as if that would magically tell him what it was. “Something… alcoholic?”

Seungkwan groaned beside him. “Wow. Smooth.”

You chuckled, the corner of your lips quirking up. “That’s very specific, Channie.”

Chan nearly choked. The way you said his name—so casually, so effortlessly—made his brain short-circuit again. 

Everything he wished for—right after you, of course—was that he had scientific explanations for the way his body and brain reacted to your actions and words. And even then, maybe it wouldn’t be enough for him. 

I mean, Chan was a popular guy. A lot of people knew him around the campus, hell, he was a member of one of the most exclusive fraternities at university, was the current best dancer on the program since Minghao had graduated, packing the school theater every time he performed, and he also wasn’t exactly unknown among girls; he wasn’t particularly proud of it, but he had a reputation.

So why was it that, whenever he was around you, he acted like a complete loser?

It was a case to be studied closely and for days, perhaps years.

Seungkwan, probably sensing that Chan was never going to get a full sentence out at this rate, answered for him. “Tequila. Too much tequila. Yeonjun was bullying him a little.”

At the mention of Yeonjun, you hummed in amusement, your lips pressing together like you were holding back a laugh. Then, without warning, you reached forward and plucked the cup from his hands, bringing it to your lips for a sip. You pulled a slight face at the taste, but to Chan’s absolute horror (and delight), you took another small sip before handing the cup back to him.

“Sounds about right,” you mused, wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb. “And how’s that going for you?”

Chan blinked. 

“Oh, you know,” he forced out, voice slightly rougher than intended, “just trying to stay upright.”

It was a miracle. He had managed to form a coherent sentence.

You laughed softly, and Chan felt like he had just been hit with a wave of relief. The sound was like music to his ears. “Well, that’s an important skill to have.”

Seungkwan muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like pathetic, but Chan was too busy trying to figure out if you were just being nice or if there was something more behind your words. 

“So…” you said, drawing out the word as if weighing it in your mind. “You having fun?”

Fun. Right. That was why he was here. “Uh. Yeah. It’s a party, so… yeah.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That convincing, huh?”

Chan cleared his throat, trying to wrest away the heat creeping up his neck. “I mean, yeah. It’s fun.” He nodded a little too enthusiastically, as if trying to convince both of you.

You hummed, unconvinced, tilting your head just slightly. The way your eyes scanned his face sent his brain into overdrive. Was he being obvious? Did you know?

But before he could embarrass himself further, the speakers erupted with the unmistakable intro of Livin’ On A Prayer by Bon Jovi, and the entire room burst into excited screams—just like you, who threw your head back and let out a moan of happiness.

Chan was certain he felt his entire body shiver at the sound, his mind drifting to places it shouldn’t. He was pretty sure he was already halfway to living on a prayer. 

“I love this song,” you said, eyes lighting up as you turned your head to them with a grin so radiant it nearly knocked him off his feet. 

Two seconds later, Dahyun called your name from across the room. “Come dance with us.”

You turned your head slightly, offering her a small nod of acknowledgment before looking back at them.

 “I have to go,” you said, pointing with your thumb over your shoulder at your friend. “See you guys around.”

Chan's heart sank a little at the sudden shift, the moment slipping away faster than he could grasp it. He opened his mouth, almost as if to protest, but the words never made it past his lips. He was still fumbling, unsure of what to say or do in this kind of situation.

But then you gave him one last smile—quick, but enough to leave him breathless—and started to turn away. You took a few steps forward, then stopped, turning around and staring directly at him; not at him, Vernon and Seungkwan—just him. 

“I love your shirt, by the way.”

And just like that, you were gone, moving through the crowd again, leaving him standing there with his heart pounding and his mind reeling, staring in astonishment at the Kurt Cobain shirt he was wearing.

Seungkwan snorted beside him, pulling him out of his daze. “You’re hopeless.”

Chan, still staring after you, muttered, “I know.”

You had disappeared from the party half an hour ago, using the excuse of heading to the bathroom, only to end up on the balcony of one of the few rooms upstairs with an unlocked door.

To be honest, you weren’t really in the mood for a party, but after Nayoung and Dahyun insisted so much on getting you out of your room, despite your repeated insistence that you weren’t affected by the recent events in your life, you eventually agreed to join them at Sigma Vita Tau’s annual homecoming party.

So far, it had been a lot of fun; you’d danced with your friends, played beer pong and pool with people you didn’t even know and a couple of people you did know. But when everyone decided it was time to start a game of seven minutes in heaven, you knew it was time to get away, especially since the only person you wanted to kiss wasn’t in the circle and was clearly avoiding you, as he always did.

That person was currently downstairs, probably laughing at something his friends said, or even kissing someone under the staircase, completely unaware of how much space he took up in your thoughts.

With a sigh, you sat down at the railing, the cool night air a relief against your flushed skin. The music from the party thumped through the walls, muffled but still loud enough to remind you of the chaos inside. You were fine with missing the game, better than sitting there, pretending you wouldn’t feel a pang of jealousy if someone else pulled his name. 

That last one, of course, was a scenario you created in your own head where he decided to show up and play just because the universe hated you that much. 

You weren’t even sure when it had started, this thing. The way your eyes always searched for him in a crowd, the way your heart did that stupid little skip whenever he smiled at you, especially at times when he didn't seem to realize he was smiling. Maybe it had always been there, waiting for the right moment to make itself known and now was the perfect opportunity for it, considering all circumstances. 

Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed the door creak open behind you until the warmth of another presence filled the space.

“I was wondering where you disappeared to.”

It was almost two in the morning when Chan decided he’d had enough of the party. You had already disappeared minutes ago to God knows where, and even though your friends were still downstairs playing seven minutes in heaven, he was pretty sure you’d gone home. Your boyfriend had probably come by to pick you up at some point, like he always did, and Chan miraculously hadn't noticed.

All night long, he had watched you from afar, dancing and playing games with his friends. You were laughing with Vernon, teasing Seungkwan, and even giving Yeonjun a hard time. You looked completely at ease, like you belonged there somehow. But every time his gaze lingered on you, he felt that familiar twist in his stomach. It wasn’t jealousy, exactly, but the kind of longing that made his chest tighten. You were surrounded by his friends, sure, but in his mind, you were still just very much... out of reach.

Now, he was exhausted, tired of feeling like a failure for not having the courage to approach you, even just to start a conversation. He hadn’t taken Vernon’s advice, hadn’t shown you how much better he could be than your boyfriend. So, instead of dwelling on it any longer, he simply said goodbye to everyone and headed up to his room.

After cursing himself for forgetting to lock the door, Chan headed inside, silently thanking the universe that no one was there. Everything was in place, neat and undisturbed, clearly showing it hadn’t been used as a place for a couple to make out, or worse. After finally locking the door behind him, he sat on the edge of the bed, calmly taking off his shoes as he recapped the night in his head. 

He sighed, lying back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Seungkwan was right; this was getting pathetic, really. He had talked to people all night, joked around, even had a decent time despite the chaos. But when it came to you, his heart always raced in a way that made him second-guess every move. 

He was such a big fool. 

A fool for you, apparently. 

For a brief moment, Chan watched as the long curtains that divided the room from the balcony swayed in the wind, revealing a figure sitting on the railing.

His heart skipped a beat as his eyes landed on the figure. The silhouette was unmistakable, even in the dim light—your figure, perched on the balcony railing, legs dangling, one hand resting on your knee. He wasn’t sure how long you’d been there, but the sight of you, calm and seemingly lost in thought, made him hesitate. Again. 

The cool night air swept in, ruffling the curtains and causing them to dance with the wind again, almost as if they were beckoning him. For a brief moment, Chan considered staying put, convincing himself that you probably just needed some space, some quiet time away from the party. But then the thought of you sitting out there alone made his chest tighten, as if the universe was giving him a second chance to do things right, and before he could talk himself out of it, he was standing up and crossing the room.

He reached the balcony door quietly, not wanting to startle you. The cool breeze hit his face as he stepped outside, the sound of music and laughter from the party downstairs still faintly echoing in the distance. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves, but it was hard when you were so close.

You looked like an angel sitting there, and his brain nearly short-circuited when he noticed you were wearing the hoodie he had left on the chair earlier that day.

Chan never liked people invading his space, especially his room, and even less so when they were uninvited. If it had been anyone else, he probably would have kicked them out on the spot. But it was you. Not only did it not bother him, but he found himself loving the sight of you in his clothes, as if the hoodie had been made for you to wear too.

“I was wondering where you disappeared to.”

You turned your head at the sound of his voice, blinking in surprise at his appearance.

“Chan?” You said his name like you couldn’t quite believe it, like maybe you were the one dreaming and not him. He smiled.

“Hey,” he managed to say, his voice gentle, words just loud enough to be heard over the distant music. “You okay there?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, offering a small smile, grateful for the concern in his eyes. “Just needed a break. Parties aren’t really my thing.”

Chan hesitated for a moment before leaning against the railing next to you, his posture a little stiff but his presence somehow calming. “I get it,” he said quietly, his gaze shifting down to the street below. “I kind of feel the same way sometimes. All the noise, all the people, it’s a lot.”

You chuckled softly, turning slightly toward him. “You? A dancer major?”

He really wanted to use this opportunity with you to make a good impression and follow his friends' advice. But when he looked at you again, his brain went into a tailspin trying to process the way his hoodie looked on you, like it belonged to you just as much as it did to him. 

Still, he forced himself to get the words out.

“Yeah, well… dancing is different,” he admitted, glancing at you with a small, almost sheepish smile. “It’s loud, sure, but it makes sense. It’s the kind of noise I can control.”

You hummed in understanding, swinging your legs slightly. “And parties?”

“Not so much.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, the distant music from the party below blending with the rustling of the trees. The longer Chan stood beside you, the more his nerves settled, though that didn’t stop his heart from hammering in his chest. He had spent so long watching you from a distance, convinced that any moment spent too close would give him away. And yet, here you were, in his hoodie, in his bedroom’s balcony. 

Chan opened his mouth, but nothing came out, as usual. He was already surprised that he had managed to form other sentences before, since his brain was still trying to catch up with everything that's happening. 

You were standing in his bedroom—his bedroom—at two in the morning.

He couldn’t help but wonder if you had any idea what you did to him with just a small action.

You shifted a bit, looking at him out of the corner of your eye, the cool breeze tugging at your hair while you analyzed his well-defined profile.

You’d known the SVT boys for a while now, and they always carried this… chaotic energy, like one was constantly balancing and matching out the other’s freaks without the slightest trace of embarrassment or shame. That, in fact, was the reason why you liked being around them so much; they were different from the guys in the other fraternities at this university. Not to mention their parties were the best on campus and probably the most female-friendly and safe.

Every now and then, you found yourself in the company of one of them. Whether it was Vernon, who was already your friend and classmate, or Joshua, who once served as the english literature tutor for your study group back in freshman year, or even Seungkwan, in the one ancient studies class you share this semester.

Sometimes, it seemed like they were everywhere on campus, as if, whenever you needed one, they would magically appear—like when Abby blew out a candle in that Disney Channel movie 16 Wishes, except in this case, there were only 13. 

Lee Chan, however, was the member you hardly ever heard the voice of. You just couldn’t tell if he was always like that or if the problem was you, specifically. 

“You don’t talk much, do you?” you asked, your tone light, trying to keep the mood casual, though there was an underlying curiosity in your voice.

Chan chuckled at your question, running a hand through his hair, a little embarrassed but still amused by it. He forced himself to say something, anything, before he made even more of a fool of himself. “I—uh. No, I mean, I do. Sometimes. I talk.”

Brilliant. Just brilliant. 

For someone who was usually a yapper, he had become an expert at being at a loss for words around you. Before this moment, he hoped you wouldn't notice, but your question showed him that was clearly not the case.

Your lips twitched, like you were trying not to laugh. But it wasn’t in a cruel way, not like you were laughing at him. “That’s good to know,” you replied, nodding like you were filing the information away for later.

He couldn’t help but smile, feeling a bit more at ease despite the awkwardness that lingered. You weren’t making him feel self-conscious about his words, just... making him feel seen by you in a way that made his chest tighten, because that never happened before. 

“I promise I can carry a conversation most of the time,” he added, his voice lighter this time, trying to steer the awkwardness away. “Just... not always the best at small talk.” 

He gave a shrug, hoping you would take it as more of a self-aware joke than anything else.

You raised an eyebrow at him, teasing. “Small talk is overrated anyway. It’s the big stuff that matters.”

Chan tilted his head slightly, studying your expression. 

“What kind of big stuff are we talking about here?” He was trying to sound nonchalant, but inside, he was celebrating wildly; not just because he was managing to talk to you, but because you were talking to him too.

Perched on the railing, you shifted slightly to face him fully, your hands gripping the edge as you met his gaze. 

“Like... real conversations. The kind where you actually get to know someone,” you said, your voice softer now, almost a little serious. 

Suddenly, Chan felt like the air between you two shifted, and he couldn’t decide whether it was the wind or something else making him feel more aware of every movement you made and every word you said. 

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice steady despite the rush of thoughts flooding his mind. “I guess... I guess you're right.”

You smiled, pleased with his answer, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. From where you stood, the cheers of the crowd downstairs faded into the background with each new pair being chosen, distant enough to feel like you’re both in another world entirely. 

Up here, it was just you and him, standing at the edge of something that Chan didn’t even know what. 

He shifted slightly, his fingers grazing the concrete railing as he debated whether he should say more, whether he should push this moment just a little further or not, since you seemed to be enjoying your own company until a few minutes ago, even if it was in his room.

The only thing he didn’t want to do was let it slip away.

Instead, he asked the question that had been circling in his mind since the moment he spotted you through the curtains. “So, uh… how did you find my room?”

Chan watched as you froze, your eyes slowly widening while your brain processed his question. Your gaze followed his, and the moment you registered what you were wearing, a soft laugh escaped your lips—one that sent his pulse into overdrive. 

“Oh, shit,” you said, blinking, voice showing your very obvious surprise. 

You seemed to realize the absurdity of the situation at the exact same moment the words slipped past your lips, your gaze flickering between him and the hoodie. 

“Wait, no—” you started, clearly flustered. “I wasn’t snooping or anything, I swear.” Your hands gripped the hem of the hoodie as if it might disappear if you didn’t hold onto it. “I—I didn’t know this was your room. I promise I wasn’t—I mean, I just—”

“You just… what?” he managed to ask, still amazed that you were standing in front of him, in his hoodie—did he stress this enough?—after a night of him avoiding you because he was convinced he had lost every chance he had after your interaction earlier. 

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. There was no way this could be less embarrassing. “I was looking for a quiet place to hide from the whole seven minutes in heaven thing. Found an unlocked door, thought it was an empty guest room, and, uh… turns out, it wasn’t.”

Chan stared at you, his heartbeat loud in his ears. “And the hoodie?”

A sheepish smile tugged at your lips. “It was on the chair. It was cold. Thought it looked comfy.”

It was comfy. But that wasn’t the point.

He swallowed, trying not to let the warmth spreading through his chest take over. This—you—was the last thing he expected tonight. And yet, here you were, standing in his room at two in the morning, looking impossibly good in his clothes. Maybe the universe was on his side after all.

You were still seated there, looking at him like you weren’t sure if you should stay or go. And maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was the way you were looking at him, but for the first time all night, Chan didn’t feel like running away.

Instead, he exhaled, leaning back as he met your gaze. “Well,” he said, forcing a small smirk. “Guess it looks better on you anyway.”

He had no idea where this sudden courage was coming from. Maybe it was the alcohol still lingering in his system, even though hours had passed since his last drink. Whatever it was, he was just glad he had found the nerve to flirt with you. Even if just a little bit.

Your lips twitched, and for a second, he thought you might say something. But then you just shook your head, voice quieter now. “I’m sorry for invading your space. Do you want me to leave?”

Chan swallowed hard. He knew what the right answer was. Knew what Vernon and Seungkwan would tell him to do. Knew that you still had a boyfriend. But with you standing there, wearing his hoodie, looking at him like that…

Yeah. He was completely screwed.

“No, stay,” he said, a little too eagerly. Then, realizing how desperate he must’ve sounded, he cleared his throat, trying to play it cool. “I mean… if you want to.”

You tilted your head, watching him in that way that made his stomach flip. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” Chan let out a breathless laugh, running a hand through his hair. Still, he wanted to make sure. “Unless you want to go back?”

You glanced toward the door, as if weighing your options, before exhaling a small laugh. “Not really.”

Chan tried not to read too much into it. He tried not to let the fact that you were still standing there, apparently in no rush to leave, get to his head. “Then stay,” he said again, softer this time.

“Okay,” you said after a beat. Then, with a teasing smile, you added, “But only if I get to keep the hoodie.”

Chan huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Fine. You can keep it.”

You grinned. “Thanks.”

“I mean… I might have to fight you for it later.”

“Oh, I’d win,” you shot back without hesitation, a smug little smirk playing at your lips.

And god, Chan believed you. Because you would only need to say the words and that hoodie would be yours forever.

There was a comfortable silence between you after that, the weight of the night settling in. The distant cheers from downstairs had died down a little, and the music had shifted to something slower, more subdued. It felt like the whole world had softened around the edges. 

You tilted your head slightly, as if studying him, and Chan felt his pulse quicken again. He didn’t know what it was about you that made him so nervous. Maybe it was the way you carried yourself or the way your eyes were holding an amused curiosity whenever you looked at him. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the way he wanted you to look at him the way you looked at your boyfriend.

At the thought of him, Chan’s expression faltered slightly, and he turned away, gripping the railing a little tighter than necessary. He had no right to feel the way he did, no right to want things he couldn’t have. But he was here now, alone with you in the quiet of the night, and for just a moment, he allowed himself to imagine that things were different.

Chan turned to you again, watching as you stared out at the horizon now. He didn’t know what he was expecting when he spoke next, but the words left his mouth before he could stop them.

“So where's your boyfriend?”

If you were surprised by the question, you didn’t let it show. He saw you lowering your head and letting out a not very happy laugh through your nose. 

The truth was, you were surprised by his question, but at the same time, you weren’t. Jongin wasn’t exactly known for being non-territorial; he was always where you were, and when he couldn’t be, he made sure to show up at some point. But the way Chan’s question slipped out so easily, so curious, paralyzed all your instincts—the ones that told you to take it slow, to breathe between the end of your relationship with Jongin and the leap you were considering to take when you agreed to come here tonight.

And then, the confession slipped out of your lips before your brain could stop it. “He's...not my boyfriend anymore.”

Chan’s eyes widened slightly at your words. His stomach churned with an uncomfortable mix of relief and confusion, and he blinked a few times, processing your words. 

Would he go to hell for feeling immensely happy with that confession you had just made? Probably. And he would slow dance with the devil, grinning from ear to ear nonetheless.

“Not your boyfriend anymore?” He repeated after you. “Why not?”

You shrugged, a casual motion that didn’t match the weight of your words, finally looking up to meet his gaze again. “Didn't want to be.”

That was only half true, and you knew it. It wasn’t like you wanted to be his girlfriend either. But still, you weren’t the one who ended things by cheating on him with your step sister. You’d probably still be with him if he hadn’t decided to put an end to it in the worst way possible, even if your heart was beating for someone completely different already. 

Was it weird that you felt relieved to be cheated on, because it finally gave you a reason to leave?

“He’s an idiot then.” Chan spoke, bringing you out of your thoughts. When you looked at him, his eyes were filled with genuine empathy. You smiled gratefully, appreciating his compassion.

Not wanting to weigh the moment, you let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, well, that makes two of us.”

Chan frowned slightly. “I doubt it,” he said, before adding, “But why?”

You shrugged again. “It wasn’t like I was dying to stay in that relationship, you know.”

The way you said it, almost too calmly, threw him off. I mean, he knew you weren’t very happy in your relationship; it was evident in your body language around Jongin. But he didn’t expect it to go as far as you wishing you weren’t actually in it. 

He wanted to ask more, to understand what had happened, but a part of him feared that prying would make him sound even more pathetic. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from pressing on, his voice low and a little uncertain. “Wait, so you didn’t want to be with him either?”

You didn’t hesitate, your expression not betraying any emotion, but your voice was sharp when you replied. “Not really. I didn’t even like him in the end. I guess I just stayed longer than I should have because it was… comfortable.” 

“That doesn’t sound like a great reason to stay.”

Chan bit his lip, trying to digest your words. Part of him wanted to reach out, to comfort you somehow, but he didn’t know where to start. The realization that you were no longer with him, the guy who seemed to have always been in the picture, stirred something in him—a sense of hope he wasn’t prepared to feel. But he kept it buried, not wanting to come off too eager, too quick to assume.

“It wasn’t,” you admitted. “But it’s hard to walk away from something when you don’t have a reason big enough to leave.”

“And what finally made you leave? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“You’re funny.” You smiled, head tilted to the side as you locked gazes with him. “I’ve never really got to actually talk to you before. Yet, here we are,” you gestured to the space between you with your hands. “I like this side of you. Curious and talkative Channie”

“Yeah?”

Chan swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry, even if he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. He was happy that being alone with you had finally awakened that side of him: more talkative and more responsive. 

You nodded, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, I do.” Then you sighed, before saying, “To answer your question: he cheated on me with my step sister.”

His eyes widened and suddenly he was back to not knowing what to say, so he stayed quiet for a moment. Chan’s brain raced, his heart pounding. Was it bad that the idea of you being available—of there being a chance for something, whatever it might be—be the only thing that appeared in flashing neon signs in his head? 

Either way, he was glad you had gotten out of a relationship that clearly wasn’t good for you. He was happy that you had gotten rid of the asshole who was known for only dating girls ten years younger than him—the asshole who never let you breathe.

“Why did you date him anyway? Guy’s a jerk,” The words escaped his mouth before he could even control them. 

“He gave me just the right amount of attention, at the right time,” you answered without hesitation, shrugging again. “Have you ever heard ‘We accept the love we think we deserve’?” 

Chan frowned, processing your words. Well, that was sad. 

“I’ve heard of it,” he said quietly, the weight of your response settling in the space between you. The way you spoke about it, almost like you were talking about a lesson learned the hard way, made him feel a pang of sympathy for you.

“Yeah,” you continued, voice soft but steady, eyes searching his face. “I didn't realize I deserved more until the moment I woke up from the trance I’d been stuck in for two years.”

Listening to you confess to him all of this without thinking twice and sounding so sincere, made his stomach twisted with something like a mixture of frustration and admiration. He could see how hard it must’ve been for you, but at the same time, something in him wanted to protect you, to offer the kind of attention and care that wasn’t half-hearted, something real and full of understanding.

Something you truly deserved.

“You do deserve more,” he finally said, voice quiet but firm. “Everyone does. And if you want it, you can have it. No one should make you feel like you don’t.”

He hoped you understood the undertone of his words. Though he was genuine in what he said, he wanted to be everything you deserved—the more you could and should have. God knew how much he wanted it, and how far he would go to show you that. But in that moment, he also wanted to offer words of comfort, to be the shoulder you might need.

You didn’t say anything for a while, just standing there, letting the noise of the party hum around you both. Finally, you exhaled. 

“It’s hard to let go of what you’ve known, even when it’s not good for you,” you admitted, almost like you were talking to yourself more than him. “But sometimes, I guess you need to make space for something better, even if it’s scary.”

Chan’s heart beats faster at your words. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he knew one thing: this conversation, this moment between you, felt different than anything he had experienced with you before. It felt real.

“Do you think…” he started, and then stopped, unsure of what to ask. He was afraid that anything he said might ruin the moment. But your expression softened in a way that made his heart skip another beat.

“Maybe,” you said, voice low but deliberate, eyes never leaving his. “Maybe I need to stop accepting what I think I deserve and start going after what I actually deserve.”

Chan swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. The air between you felt charged now, heavier than it should have been. He felt like he was standing on the edge of something, something he was not afraid to jump into and also couldn’t stop himself from wanting, hoping you wished the same, even if he was too crazy or delusional to consider that possibility. 

Just as he was about to say something, he suddenly felt light raindrops hitting the spot where the two of you were standing and sitting on the balcony. The first few drops were light, barely noticeable against his skin, but within seconds, the drizzle grew heavier, the scent of rain taking over the air. 

Chan watched you look up, your eyes tracing the sky as it darkened, the city below shimmering through the mist. When you turned back to him, he was staring at you—not at the rain, not at the sky, but at you. You met his gaze, and for a split second, everything else faded; the sound of the rain, the distant hum of the city below, even the pounding of his own heart. 

He blinked, breaking the spell, his gaze flickering toward the rain before it returned to you. “Maybe we should go inside,” he suggested, his voice low, almost hesitant, like he was giving you an escape from the moment, if you needed it.

You nodded slowly, and without saying a word, you jumped off the balcony railing, following him inside. You looked around the dark room for a second, before saying, “Maybe I should go. I don't want to hold the party host down with me.”

Chan turned to face you, his expression softening as he took in your words. There was something about the way you spoke, the hesitation that lingered in your voice, that made him want to step closer, to reassure you that you weren’t an inconvenience, that he wanted you there more than anything. 

“You’re not holding anyone down,” he said, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips. “If anything, it’s me who should be worried about keeping you from having fun.” 

“Never,” you said, your voice light, but there was something else in it, something he couldn’t quite put a finger on. Especially when you said, “Besides, the person I wanted to kiss isn't even downstairs.”

Chan froze, his heart giving a sharp, involuntary lurch at your words. He blinked, not quite sure if he had heard you correctly, but the way your gaze held his, steady and unflinching, told him that he hadn’t misheard.

He cleared his throat, his voice coming out a little too thick for his liking. “Oh? And, uh… who exactly were you hoping to kiss, if not...?” He trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence, not sure if he even wanted to know the answer.

As the curtain moved in the wind, bringing the streetlight into the room, he saw a mischievous smile grow on your lips. 

What the hell was happening? Was his brain betraying him? Was he imagining this moment? Had he passed out on the bed when he went upstairs and was now in a dream, after spending ninety percent of his energy thinking about you at the party he should have been enjoying with his friends? 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you said simply, and turned your back to him, eyes immediately darting to the shelf of his trophies from dance competitions and photographs. 

Yes, I do! I want to know! Chan wanted to shout.

Instead, he stood there for a moment, unsure whether to follow up with another question, or to let the silence stretch on. The way you spoke, so casually and yet with that playful glint in your eye, made everything feel… electric. 

So he simply watched you there, in his room, moving without hesitation, slowly walking over to his shelf, running your finger along the wood and observing each one of his trophies, medals and pictures with meticulous care. 

He couldn't help but think—and wish too—that he could get used to this scene.

The golden plaques gleamed under the dim light, each one marking a victory of his. Some were polished to perfection, while others bore the faintest scratches, proof of the years Chan had spent chasing dreams in the dance field. Your gaze drifted to the framed photographs beside them, each snapshot telling a different story of his life. 

There were several photos of him as a little kid, beaming as ever, dressed in performance clothes, on stage, with a medal around his neck. In another, he stood beside his previous performance unit with the frat’s past members, whom you recognized as Kwon Soonyoung, Wen Junhui, and Xu Minghao, their grins wide and carefree. There were also photos with his parents and grandmother, and some with what looked like his younger brother.

Chan was probably the cutest kid you had ever seen, and that realization made you smile genuinely. 

“Lee Jung Chan?” you asked, curious as you read the name on one of the trophies from a children's dance competition. Your fingers brushed over the small golden plaque, the engraving slightly worn from time. 

Behind you, he let out a soft chuckle. “It's my name on my family tree. The government name is just Lee Chan.”

“You went by your full name back then?”

He shrugged, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Only because my mom insisted. She said it sounded more professional, like I was already a star or something.”

“It's cute,” you said, looking at him over your shoulder. “You were so cute.”

“Yes, well, the kids used to call me Jimmy Neutron.”

You laughed, turning fully to face him. Neither of you had noticed how close you were until you did. If you reached out your arms, you'd only be able to touch each other slightly. But even though both of you thought about it, neither of you made any move to change your positions, continuing your conversation. 

“What? Jimmy Neutron?”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair as if reliving the embarrassment. “Yeah. They said my head was too big for my body. And, you know, the spiky hair didn't help.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress another laugh. Chan holded his breath at your movement, forcing himself to look elsewhere, forcing himself not to think about your lips. 

“I can totally see it now,” you teased, releasing your lip from your teeth and looking between him and the photo on the shelf.

He narrowed his eyes at you playfully. “Wow, okay. I thought you were supposed to be on my side.”

“I am!” You held up your hands in defense. “I just think it's adorable. And look at you now. You certainly grew into it perfectly.”

Chan smirked, tilting his head and crossing his arms. “So you're saying I look perfect now?”

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the trophies. “Don't get ahead of yourself, Jimmy Neutron.”

He laughed, stepping up beside you as his eyes skimmed over the shelf briefly, before turning back to you. “Yeah, but I kinda see it. My head was huge.”

You tilted your head, studying one of the photos of him mid-dance, his tiny frame caught in motion. He’s wearing dark sunglasses and black fingerless gloves, hair is slightly messy and spiky, adding to the fun and carefree to his edgy look. His bright smile revealed a gap between his teeth, and you thought to yourself that you've probably never seen anything so lovely before.

“Well, I think you were adorable,” you murmured, your finger tracing the edge of the frame. “And talented, obviously. All these trophies…”

He shrugged, a little bashful. “My grandmother was really proud of them. She used to polish them every weekend.”

Your smile softened. “She sounds sweet.”

“She is,” he said, voice tinged with fondness. “She used to call me ‘our little star.’”

Something about the way he said it made warmth bloom in your chest. You turned toward him, and he was looking at you again, his expression unreadable but intense. The soft glow of the streetlights made his features sharper, casting shadows along his well-defined jawline.

If there was one thing you knew about Lee Chan, it was that he was a star. Every performance he was part of filled the university theater, without failure. Not to mention the countless admirers he had on campus, and with good reason.

Watching him do what he loved was a pleasure—he was that good. Confident and unwavering, he dominated the stage effortlessly, as if wrapped in a bubble no one could pierce. It was mesmerizing to witness.

“You still are, you know,” you said, voice quieter now. “A star.”

His lips parted slightly, but for a moment, he didn't say anything. Just studied you like he was trying to figure something out.

And then, with a small, almost shy smile, he said, “I like it better when you call me cute.”

You laughed, the sudden tension between you easing just a little. “Noted.”

He exhaled a soft chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned against the desk beside the shelf. “You know, I don’t usually let people snoop around my room like this.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder again, your fingers still lightly tracing over the edge of a picture framed. “Oh? Am I special, Channie?”

You didn't have to say his name like that, or move your lips like that. His eyes traveled to your mouth for a moment, and for a second, something flickered in his expression, something unspoken, but not entirely hidden. 

His eyes met yours as he said, “Yeah,” he murmured. “You are.”

To mask the fact that your breath hitched slightly, you offered him a playful smirk. “Good to know.”

As Chan moved to sit on the edge of his bed, you continued your exploration of his shelf, eyes stopping at a picture frame in the middle where he standed between what seemed to be his parents, both of them kissing his cheek sweetly. 

“Is your father a dancer too?” you asked, running your fingers over his face on the picture. 

“Yeah. My dad and my mom,” he explained. “They kind of stopped after I was born.”

“Wow. It’s in your blood, then.”

Chan nodded, a smile playing on his lips. “Yeah. My dad always says I got his footwork, but my mom says I got her rhythm.”

You leaned against the table by the shelf, watching him as he spoke. “So they gave it up for you?” 

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. My dad started teaching instead, and my mom focused on raising me. They never made me feel like I took anything away from them, though.”

“That’s love.”

He looked at you then, his gaze steady. “Yeah, it is.”

Another comfortable silence settled between you as you turned back to the photos, your fingers absently tracing the edges of the other frames. One photo in particular caught your eye. It was from the exact same day you first noticed him, during the university’s annual arts week in your sophomore year.

He was dressed in a white button-down shirt with the top two buttons undone, black dress pants, and his hair dyed a faded dark blue. You knew he had worn a tie too because he had taken it off during the performance.

Out of the four members in the unit, he immediately stood out to you. You couldn’t quite put your finger on why, but it was as if no one else existed on that stage besides him. Your eyes were locked on him and no one else, watching in awe as he moved across the stage, completely captivated.

“I was there that day, you know?” you said, showing him over the shoulder the photo you were referring to. 

Chan’s eyes widened as he stared at it. It was one of the images from his first big performance at the university’s annual arts week back in his freshman year, a moment that had felt like a turning point for him, when everything had clicked. He hadn’t realized anyone had been paying attention back then, least of all you.

“You were?” His voice held a note of surprise. There was something so disarming about the way you were looking at the photo—and then at him.

You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze before turning back. “Yeah. I was in the back, by the side stage,” you admitted, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You were… mesmerizing.” 

He felt a warmth spread through him at your words, the kind of warmth that made his chest tighten. Chan hadn’t expected to hear something like that, especially not from you. 

“Really?” He couldn’t hide the shock in his voice. His brows lifted slightly, as if he was trying to picture it. “How come I didn't see you?”

“I don’t think you noticed anyone that night,” you teased. “You were in your own world up there.”

He hummed, eyes flickering back to the photo. “Maybe,” he mused, then glanced at you again, a slow smile crept onto his lips. “So, you’ve been watching me all this time, noona?”

There was a teasing edge to his voice and you exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “I wouldn’t put it like that.”

“No?” He titled his head. “Then how would you put it?”

He saw you hesitate for a second, fingers still resting on the shelf. Then, meeting his eyes, you admitted, “I noticed you. That night, and every time after that.”

Chan felt his breath catch in his throat.

There was something about the way you said it—so simple, so honest—that made his heart stutter. You noticed him. Not just that night, but every time after. 

He had spent years analyzing every interaction you two had ever had—every glance, every small word, every time you did so much as acknowledged his existence. And now? Now you were standing here, saying things that made his heart race like it was the easiest thing to do. 

How did you end up here?

Chan felt lightheaded.

He wasn’t sure what to say. It wasn’t rare for him to be speechless around you, so there he was again, standing in front of you, feeling like the floor beneath him wasn’t quite solid anymore.

“You noticed me,” he echoed, more to himself than to you.

You nodded, your fingers lightly tracing the edge of the photo before you finally pulled your hand away. “Yeah,” you murmured, laughing softly. “I did, Channie.”

Chan swallowed. He wanted to ask why. What was it about him that had caught your attention? Was it his performance? His presence? Something else entirely different? 

But instead, he found himself saying, “I wish I’d noticed you in the crowd.”

Your lips parted slightly, but instead of speaking, you simply smiled, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

His fingers twitched at his sides. God, he wished he could go back in time to that night—to scan every face in the crowd, to find you standing by the side stage, watching him with that same look you had now. You weren’t even dating Jongin at the time, and if your words were any indication of what he was imagining, maybe he had missed an opportunity by acting as though you were unattainable. Maybe he had lost precious time. 

Chan watched as moved away from the shelf, turning to him entirely. His breath hitched slightly as you stepped closer, each movement deliberate, unhurried. You didn’t hesitate as you sank down beside him on the bed, the space between you shrinking just enough to make his pulse quicken. 

The room suddenly felt smaller, quieter, like the world outside had dulled, leaving only the two of you in this charged silence.

He forced himself to breathe, to act natural, even as every fiber of his being buzzed with awareness of your presence beside him. You were close enough that he could catch the faintest trace of the sweetness of your perfume again, something that made his head spin in the best way.

“Can I ask you something?” You sank your hands on the mattress and stared at the wall in front of you, like you were avoiding his gaze for some reason. 

“Mhmm.”

You wet your lips, hesitating for a moment before finally voicing the thought that had lingered in your mind all night. “Were you avoiding me tonight?”

Chan felt his heart slam against his ribs. “I wasn’t—” he started, then stopped himself because, well… yeah, he had been avoiding you. But only because every time he looked at you, he felt like his brain melted, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to not make a fool of himself.

You smirked, clearly amused by his silence. “That’s what I thought.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “I wasn’t avoiding you, I just—” He hesitated, his eyes flickering over to you. Halfway through, Chan decided that it was no longer the time to second guess things, so he simply admitted, “You make me very nervous, noona.”

You wished you had an explanation for the way you shivered slightly when he called you noona. But instead, you chose to ignore the feeling, letting the sensation fade into something softer, something more curious. “I make you nervous?” you echoed, tilting your head slightly. “That’s a first.”

Chan huffed a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “You say that like it’s impossible. I bet–I know I’m not the only one.”

You shrugged. “I don’t know… you’ve always seemed so confident. Especially on stage.”

“That is just an act,” he admitted. “On stage, I could pretend to be someone else for a little while. But you?” He turned to you then, meeting your gaze fully. “You’re real. You’re right here.”

And he still couldn’t believe it, the words leaving his lips as if he were pinching himself to prove that this was really happening and not just a fever dream.

Hearing him, you wondered what Chan would think if he knew the way your stomach flipped at the way he was looking at you, like you were something impossible and undeniable all at once. You hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected him to say something so… vulnerable. Something that made your heart race so fast with all the implications of his words. 

“I didn’t mean to make you nervous, Channie” you said, your voice softer now, more careful.

“I don’t think you can help it,” Chan murmured, letting out a breathless chuckle. “You know, you probably didn’t know this, but I had a, um… a crush on you.”

Okay, he knew he was straying from the truth. But there was a limit to his courage, and even though he had sensed a bit of flirting between you, he wasn’t about to risk rejection after the nice conversation you’d had tonight, because maybe he was just imagining things. 

And he wanted you to walk away from here at least as friends rather than leave an awkward situation for the two of you. He’d rather have you like this than not have you at all. That was why he decided to test the waters with that small lie.

Your lips parted slightly at his confession, your mind racing to process what he had just admitted. “You… had a crush on me?” you repeated, almost like you were trying to make sure you'd heard him right.

Chan nodded, his expression somewhere between amused and nervous. “Yeah. A major one,” he said, his voice lighter, trying to sound nonchalant.

Something inside you fluttered at the thought. You hadn't expected this at all—not from him, not tonight. And definitely not in this way.

“You’re bullshiting me, aren’t you?” you accused, narrowing your eyes playfully.

He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. “Nope. Dead serious.”

“But you never said anything,” you pointed out.

“Didn’t think you’d be interested,” He shrugged. Then he nudged you with his elbow, playfully. “Plus you had a boyfriend.” 

You blinked at him, momentarily stunned into silence. 

Didn’t think you’d be interested?

It was absurd to hear those words coming from him, the same person who had commanded every room he walked into without even trying, the same person who had owned the stage so effortlessly that you couldn’t take your eyes off him. 

What would he say if you opened your mouth to confess that you’d realized you weren’t happy in your old relationship the moment you started noticing him everywhere? Noticing his smile, the way he blushed when you talked to him, the way he seemed so unreachable, like he wasn’t the least bit interested in getting to know you, always running away when you were around. 

Maybe that should’ve been your first clue that he had a crush on you too. But perhaps you were too caught up in your own melancholia to notice.

So, instead of spilling out, you decided to test something. It was now or never.

“Is it just in the past?” 

Chan’s brows lifted slightly, caught off guard by your question. “What?”

“Your crush.”

“Uhh..”

“Because it would be so sad if it was,” you said before you could stop yourself, eyes searching for his. 

His voice was softer when he spoke again. “Really?”

You let out a quiet breath, shaking your head with a small smile. “Mhmm.”

He swallowed hard, his brain short-circuiting again at your response. Of all the ways this conversation could have gone, this was not what he had expected. Maybe he was in a dream. A very lived one, but still, a dream.

“You—” He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling like he had forgotten how to speak. “You think it would be sad?”

You hummed, tilting your head slightly. “Yeah. I think it would be a shame if something like that just… faded away.”

Chan's heart was doing something ridiculous in his chest, and he wasn't sure if it was panic or hope or a chaotic mix of both. He should say something. He should joke about it, keep it light, make sure this moment didn’t carry more weight than it should. But he couldn’t—because the way you were looking at him right now felt dangerous in the best way.

“Would it?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

Your smile again, nodding. 

He let out a breathless laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “You really know how to mess with a guy’s head, huh?”

“Maybe,” You grinned, leaning in just a little. “But only when it’s fun. Besides who says you’re not messing with mine too?”

“I am?”

“Yes.”

You didn't say anything else and Chan stared at you for a long moment, his mind racing with a million things he wanted to say, a million things he wanted to do. But instead, he smiled, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you were real. That this moment was real. 

He was messing with your head? Well, that’s a first. 

“Noted,” he simply murmured.

“What about now?” You looked at him expectantly, not letting silence settle between you.

Chan inhaled sharply, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides. “Now?” he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. You nodded once more. Chan’s smirk faltered for just a fraction of a second before he recovered. “Are you asking if I still have a crush on you, noona?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to mask the way your heart had started hammering. “Forget it,” you muttered, getting up from the bed. 

He reached out, closing his hand around your wrist, and gently pulled you back to sit on the bed again. For a second, it felt like the world had stopped moving. It all faded into nothing. It was just you and him, standing there in this charged, uncertain space that he used to call his bedroom.

Chan swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. His instinct was to deflect, to joke, to brush it off like it was nothing. To play nonchalant. But the way you were looking at him—with quiet anticipation, with something that felt dangerously like hope—made it impossible to lie.

And before you could escape the moment, Chan leaned in ever so slightly, just enough that you felt the warmth of him beside you. “For the record,” he started, voice lower now, just for you. “Some things don’t change that easily.”

You turned to look at him, and for the first time that night, you weren’t sure who was more nervous: you or him. You held his gaze for a long moment, your expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a small smile curled at the corners of your lips.

“Good.” 

Chan blinked. You were going to give him a whiplash. “Good?”

You nodded, shifting just a little closer, the space between you growing impossibly small. “Like I said: it would be really sad if it had faded away.”

A few seconds passed, he just stared at you, his heart pounding, his pulse roaring in his ears. He could barely think, could barely breathe.

“Are you messing with me?” he asked, a nervous chuckle slipping out.

You tilted your head, eyes glinting with something warm, something teasing. “What do you think?”

“I think,” he said slowly, “you’re trouble.”

You grinned. “Only when it's fun, remember?”

“Noted,” he replied again, huffing a quiet laugh and shaking his head. But this time, there was something different in his voice, something lighter, something hopeful. 

You bit your lip for a second, analyzing him carefully. For the first time, Chan didn’t feel intimidated by your gaze. He didn’t feel exposed. Quite the opposite, his skin felt like it was on fire, but for a very good reason.

Your eyes flickered down to his lips for a fraction of a second. If he hadn’t been watching you so closely, he would’ve missed it.

His heart slammed against his ribs.

You were too close. Or maybe not close enough.

“Chan.”

“Yes, noona?”

“Do you wanna kiss me?”

He felt every neuron in his brain misfire at once, completely abandoning him at the worst possible moment.

Did he hear you right?

Did you—did you really just ask him that?

But the way you were looking at him—head bent to the side, eyes locked onto his with quiet amusement—made it clear that he hadn’t.

His fingers twitched against his knee, his pulse hammering in his ears so hard he was sure you could hear it. He opened his mouth, then shut it again, because suddenly, every single response he could think of felt either too much or not enough.

He could feel the warmth radiating off of you, the way your gaze never left his, searching, waiting.

“Uh…” He cleared his throat, forcing himself to meet your gaze. “I—um—”

“Because you keep looking at me like you do,” you continued, your voice softer now. “And if you don’t want to, that’s fine. But I just thought I’d ask.”

Chan let out a shaky breath. He was absolutely, utterly doomed.

He groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “Noona, you can’t just ask me that.”

“Why not?” You leaned in slightly, your voice dropping just enough to make his pulse go haywire. 

Chan let out another nervous laugh, shaking his head. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You grinned. “Is that a yes or a no?”

You were still watching him, waiting, and damn it if he didn’t want to kiss you more than anything. He always had. But now? With you looking at him like that, teasing, testing, daring him? It was like he was malfunctioning. 

Yeah, he was probably overthinking this—scratch that, he was definitely overthinking this—but the truth was, this wasn’t just some random moment to him, with a random person. It was you. And you weren’t just anybody to him. 

He didn’t want to screw this up.

But at the same time…

God, he wanted to kiss you. More than he would like to see the sun rise again. 

So, he took a breath, gathering every ounce of courage he had left, and finally, finally, he answered.

“Yes,” he admitted, voice quiet but steady. “I really, really want to kiss you.”

Your smile turned softer, less teasing now. “Then what are you waiting for?”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

His heart pounded as he closed the space between you, his hesitation melting away the second his lips brushed against yours. The moment was slow, tentative at first, like he was memorizing the feel of you, engraving it to his memory in case he never got the chance to do it again. But when you responded to him, when your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him in just a little closer, something inside him snapped. 

Chan exhaled sharply against your lips before deepening the kiss, his hand moving to the back of your neck as he tilted his head, molding himself to you like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life, and not just two years of it. 

If the party outside still carried on, now it felt distant, muted. The only thing that existed in this moment was your lips and the way they mold together, the way your fingers slid up into his hair, the soft sound you made when he nipped at your bottom lip.

Chan was dizzy. Overwhelmed. 

And completely, absolutely ruined for anyone else. 

Your fingers dung into his tight, searching for support, and you felt him groan against your lips. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a reaction deep within you. His hand slipped from the back of your neck into your hair, fingers threading through the strands as he tilted your head to the side—and that was it. You were lost too.

When a soft gasp left your lips at the feeling of him pulling your hair slightly, Chan saw the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue past your parted lips, teasingly, deliberately, claiming the space with an intoxicating slowness. They way kissed you left you breathless, lightheaded, as if he’d stolen the very air from your lungs. 

Your knees bumped against his as you tried to move closer, and instead of pulling away, Chan only tightened his grip on you, his arm slipping from your hair to your waist. In one smooth motion, he guided you into his lap, pulling you over his legs until you were straddling him. A surprised giggle bubbled from your lips at the sudden shift, but he didn’t falter—if anything, the sound only seemed to spur him on. His hands settled firmly on your hips, fingers pressing into your skin as if committing your shape to his memory.

One kiss bled into the next, and then another, and another, until the only force pulling you apart was the desperate need for air. Your forehead rested against his for a fleeting moment, both of you panting, neither willing to let go.

Then, with a boldness that sent heat surging through you, you leaned in, taking his bottom lip between yours, sucking gently as your hips rolled forward in an instinctive motion. A groan tore from both of you at the same time at the feeling of you core meeting his half hardened cock for the first time. 

Chan’s head tipped back, his throat exposed to you, a silent invitation too tempting to ignore. You pressed an open-mouthed kiss just below his perfect jaw, feeling the way his pulse leapt beneath your lips. His hands traveled slowly and torturously from your hops to your thighs, hovering just above the hem of your skirt, while you traced your tongue over the skin of his neck, giving it a playful nip with your teeth.

His breath hitched at the feeling, gripping on your tights for dear life as his heart raced like crazy. The fire in his veins was undeniable, every inch of him consumed by the heat of the moment, consumed by you. Your touch, the way your lips moved, was driving him to the edge of something he wasn’t sure he could come back from. 

As Chan looked at you, his eyes begging to close in pleasure, he was sure his pupils were dilated at the scene before him: you looked like a goddess on top of him.  

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he said, voice was low, a rasp of desire that sent a thrill racing through you. 

Your response to his words was to rock your hips against his, feeling the full hardness now pressing your folds through his pants and listening to him whine, breathy and desperate. At the sound of it, you couldn’t help but sink your teeth into his neck, sucking to ensure you left a mark, to ensure everyone saw what you had done to him. 

Chan’s breath came in sharp, uneven, his body shuddering beneath you as your lips lingered over the mark you’d left on his skin. His hands tightened around your tights, fingers twitching like he was resisting the urge to take things further, to let his restraint unravel completely.

“Fuck,” he rasped, his head tilting forward until his forehead rested against yours, his eyes squeezed shut. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

His voice was raw, thick with desire, and it sent a pulse of heat through you.

You hummed against him, dragging your lips up toward his ear, reveling in the way he shivered beneath you. “What do you want, Channie?” you teased, nipping at his earlobe.

Your hands slid beneath his shirt, fingertips tracing along the defined ridges of his stomach. His muscles tensed under your touch, his hands now gripping your thighs like they were the only things keeping him grounded, like he was afraid you’d slip away. 

His eyes fluttered open, dark and desperate as they locked onto yours. 

“You,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I just want you.”

The raw honesty in his words sent another shiver down your spine. Your fingers splayed over his abdomen, feeling the way his stomach tensed beneath your touch, the way his breathing hitched with every slow, deliberate movement of your hands.

“Then take me, baby” you murmured, your lips brushing against his jaw, the ghost of a challenge in your voice.

Chan groaned, his hands sliding up from your thighs, gripping your waist with a reverence that made your pulse stutter. His thumbs traced slow, teasing circles against your skin, his restraint evident in the way his fingers flexed but didn’t pull you closer.

“You’re really trying to kill me, aren’t you?” he whispered, his breath warm against your lips.

You smirked, tilting your head just slightly, an exhalation away from his mouth. “What gave it away?”

He exhaled sharply, his patience snapping like a thread. One moment, you were teasing him, savoring the slow burn, and the next, he was kissing you like he’d been starving for you his entire life. His lips crashed against yours, desperate, all-consuming, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you flush against him.

The heat between you flared, intoxicating and undeniable. Your fingers slid up his chest, tangling in his hair, tugging just enough to draw a low, breathy moan from his lips. The sound sent a thrill through you, your body pressing closer, chasing the feeling of him, the warmth of him, the way he made you feel like you were the only thing that existed.

His hands roamed your body, slipping beneath your shirt, his touch searing against the bare skin of your inner thighs. He wasn’t rushing—no, he was savoring, mapping out every inch of you like he had all the time in the world. Like he wanted to remember this, just in case he never got the chance to do it again.

Your hips rolled instinctively, pressing down against him, and Chan groaned into your mouth, his fingers digging into your skin. “Fuck,” he breathed, his head falling back as he sucked in a sharp breath.

You leaned in, pressing another set of kisses to the column of his throat. “Too much?” you teased, your voice sultry, full of mischief.

Chan’s jaw clenched as he let out a breathless chuckle. “Not even close.”

His hands roamed higher up your thighs, and the moment his index finger traced a slow line over the fabric of your already-soaked panties, a moan slipped from your lips into his. He grunted something unintelligible as he tugged your panties to the side, his fingers finally feeling how wet you were beneath them. Then, he dragged his touch torturously up to your stomach before slipping inside the lace, and you instinctively lifted your hips, giving him better access to where you needed him most.

“Are you this wet for me, noona?” he asked, pulling back to meet your gaze. Two of his fingers pushed inside you, while his thumb circled your most sensitive spot and you cried out. “Is this all because of me?”

You nodded desperately, almost missing the disbelief in his eyes that only fueled the intensity between you. It heighted every touch, made you move in sync with him, your teeth sinking into your lip as he worked you over with deliberate precision, taking his time to drive you absolutely crazy with his fingers moving into and out of you. 

“I want you to sit on my face,” he says with certainty, eyes darkened with something you’ve never seen before, but you love it. The sheer existence of it sends a whimper tumbling from your lips. 

Still, you can't help but think about his safety.

“Are you sure” you asked, your breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

Both of his hands returned to your thighs, slowly trailing up to your ass beneath your skirt. 

“Never been more sure in my entire life. Please” 

“Fuck. Okay.”

You get off him for a moment, quickly slipping off your boots as you step out of the bed. You pull off your skirt and panties, while Chan gets up to remove his shirt, tossing it somewhere in the room. Then he returns to the bed, sitting comfortably and leaning back on his elbows, his gaze never leaving you. His eyes burn with desire as he watches you slowly take off his hoodie before taking your sweet time freeing your breasts from the tight black corset—on purpose.

When your breasts finally spill free, his mouth parts slightly, eyes locked onto your hardened nipples as if it were one of the seven wonders of the world. 

“Come here, baby.”

You slowly crawl across the bed toward where he’s lying close to the headboard, and Chan helps you position yourself on top of him. Each of your thighs settles on either side of his head as you both adjust, ensuring the position is comfortable for both of you.

“You have the prettiest pussy,” he whispered against your pussy, followed by a groan, and you feel his breath hit your entrance, making you tremble slightly.

You knew that you’re so fucking wet that even in the dim light of the room, you’re sure he could see your folds glistening. But instead of feeling embarrassed, a thrill runned through your body when you glanced down and saw Chan licking his lips, his eyes locked onto your core just inches from his face. He stared at you like you’re the last and most delicious meal he's ever going to have in his life. 

“You smell delicious, noona,” The way he speaks makes you moan softly, your hands instinctively moving to squeeze your breasts. “Bet you taste even better.”

Chan gripped the back of your thighs, pulling you closer until your heat is right in front of his face, his eyes drinking in the sight. His lips find your inner thigh first, sucking a mark into your soft skin, slow and deliberate. 

When he finally placed his lips exactly where you needed him, your hands flew straight to grip his hair, holding tightly between your fingers as your legs trembled from the indescribable sensation of his mouth on you. Still, Chan sensed that you were trying to hold back, worried about hurting him, so as soon as you shifted just an inch away from his face, he pushed you back down, holding you tight against him. 

The gasp that left your lips is a sound you’ve never done before, completely immersed in the pleasure he is giving you. His nose nudges against your clit, his tongue gathering your arousal before his mouth moves over you with deliberate hunger, like a man who has been starving for far too long.

“So good, Channie,” you cried out, body almost falling forward. “Holy fuck!”

The way Chan’s mouth moves on you is pure, unrestrained hunger, and it feels so good that, only for a moment, you entertain your brain with the idea that his mouth was made to exactly what he was doing: eating your pussy. His lips cup your clit, his tongue circling the sensitive bud with slow strokes, alternating with long, deep sucks that make you shiver around him. 

His tongue circles your entrance, sliding in as more of you slick spills into his mouth, all for him to savor. The taste of you—god, he never wants this to end. All day, every day, Chan is sure he could do this for the rest of his fucking life. All he wants is to drown himself in this, inside the wet dream that is you with your pussy right in his face.

Your hands pulled his hair tightly after one particularly harsh suck on your clit, back arching deliciously. Your moans was the only sound filling the room and Chan was pretty fucking sure this is the soundtrack of paradise and he can’t wait to get there. 

When his hands moved to your ass, squeezing tightly, it was as if the last shred of self-control in his body had evaporated. You started to rock your hips instinctively, grinding against his face desperately to chase your release while his nose offered you the most earth-shattering sessions. 

“Oh my god, Chan,” you choke out, closing your eyes shut. 

“Hmm.” His hum sended vibrations through your core and suddenly you had to use his shoulders for balance or you would fall forward on the bed. 

Chan was certain he had died and gone to heaven the moment you started grinding against his face. He could feel your legs tense around his head, and when he opened his eyes to take in the scene above him—hands traveling up your body until they reached your breasts, squeezing them tightly—the way your face crumpled and the sounds escaping your parted lips, Chan knew he was in love.

He was done. Gone. 

There was no one else for him in this world. 

Only you.

You.

You.

You. 

You bucked your hips against his face with more urgency as his thumbs rolled over your nipples in the most delicious way. His other hand found your neck, wrapping around it and squeezing lightly, and your head fell back, granting him free access to do whatever he wanted with you. At that moment, the familiar, intoxicating tingling built in the pit of your stomach, moans and sighs spilling from your lips more desperately and loud as you tightened your legs around his head.

“Hmm, suffocate me, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick and low. 

That was all it took for your orgasm to crash over you in the most intense way, your mind bubbling with euphoria, completely lost in a haze of pleasure.

Chan licked and sucked up every last drop, swallowing your release in loud gulps as if it were the only thing capable of keeping him hydrated. As you let go of his shoulders and collapsed onto the bed beside him, your legs, weak as jelly, trembled uncontrollably, matching the shivers that ran through the rest of your body.

When you looked at him, you saw the dazed, blissed-out expression on his face mirroring your fucked out one, like he were the one who had just come. His red lips were parted, his chin glistening, and you couldn't resist the dopey smile on his face. Leaning in, you pressed your lips to his, tasting yourself on him. With a strength you didn’t even know you had, especially right now, you pulled him on top of you, parting your legs so he could fit there.

Chan barely had time to register the movement before letting out a small chuckle. He broke the kiss for a second, brushing your hair from your face to meet your eyes, your pupils blown wide with a desire that was reflecting his own.

He could only be dreaming.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your lips.

Normally, words like that spoken so close would make you shy. But right now, you could feel his hard length pressing against your inner thigh through the fabric of his pants—aching, neglected, and probably leaking.

Your hands traveled from his chest to his pants and you fumbled with his belt, struggling for a moment until your fingers remembered how to work. You unfastened his zipper, hands moving with growing urgency each passing seconds. As you pushed his pants down, your fingers traced the firm and defined lines of his abdomen, the sharp cut of his hips, and the soft hair on the back of his thighs.

The moment you managed to free him from his underwear, Chan’s cock rested on your hip, hard and thick. He groaned at the feeling of your skin against him and and you arched into him, desperate to feel more—to press him even more against you, to take him in.

“Wanna ride you, Channie,” you told him, leaning forward to kiss him again. You reached between you, wrapping your fingers around his cock, feeling him thick and burning hot against your palm. 

Chan let out a shaky breath at your words, his grip on your waist tightening instinctively. His forehead pressed against yours, eyes flickering between yours and your parted lips, as if trying to ground himself, trying to believe that this was actually his reality and not just another figment of his imagination.

“You don’t have to feel obligated, baby.”

“I want it,” You batted your pretty eyelashes at him, and he was lost. “Please.” 

“Okay, noona.”

Your fingers brushed over his jaw, tilting his face up to meet your lips in another deep, searing kiss. Every part of you was incredibly drawn to him, turned on by him, the heat between you almost unbearable now. Slowly, deliberately, you rocked your hips forward, savoring the way his breath stuttered against your lips. 

“You're driving me insane,” he groaned, his hands tightening their hold on you. 

You smiled, feeling the way his pulse raced beneath your lips. “Good. Now lay back for me, baby.”

Chan didn't argue. He shifted slightly, scooting back and patting his tights in invitation for you to hover over his cock. The dim light cast long shadows across the room, highlighting the curve of your back and the way your hair fell around your shoulders. He watched you, his breath catching in his throat as you met his gaze. He lay back and propped himself up on his elbows again, anticipation thrumming through his veins.

You moved with a slow, deliberate grace, straddling him once again, your bare pussy covering his length. The feeling of his cock against your lips sent a shiver down your spine, and you also felt him trembling a little beneath you. 

You paused, savoring his gaze locked on you. His eyes were filled with a mixture of desire and adoration. Smiling down at him, you slid your pussy against his cock, feeling his head rub on your clit. A simultaneous moan escaped from both of you. The next second, his lips were on your breasts, sucking and squeezing the flesh with both hands, clearly impressed by how responsive and sensitive you were to his touch.

After a particularly harsh suck, he released your nipple with an audible pop, the sound echoing in the still-charged air. A smile spread across his face as he watched the flush recede from your skin, leaving a rosy imprint in its wake. 

“Beautiful.” He licked your nipple one more time, gaze locked on yours, as he said,“There's a condom on the nightstand.”

He didn't move, didn't break eye contact, the intensity in his gaze holding you captive. 

“Don't you wanna take me raw, Channie?” you pouted, sliding forward again. “I'm on birth control, and I'm clean.”

He swallowed hard, the muscles in his throat working as he fought for control. Your words, so casually spoken, were a potent aphrodisiac, fueling the fire that already burned within him. The feel of you against him, the heat radiating from your core, was intoxicating, clouding his judgment, making it hard to think straight.

The thought of skin on skin, of being completely, utterly connected to you, was a temptation he wasn't sure he could resist. His gaze drifted up to your lips, then lower, tracing the curve of your neck, the swell of your breasts, the way your hips moved against his. He could feel himself hardening even more, his body betraying his attempts at restraint. 

“Fuck, noona,” He breathed. “Don’t say shit like that.”

“So?” you purred, meeting his gaze. 

“I’m clean too. Put it in. Please.” The words were a raw plea, a confession of his surrender. 

Then, with another soft moan, you took his cock in your hand, lining him up with your entrance, before lowering yourself onto him, the fit perfect, as if you were made for each other.

Chan groaned as you took his full length in, his hands instinctively reaching for your waist, holding you tight against him. He looked up at you, his eyes darkening with passion, while you pushed him just a little to lay down so you could use his chest for support. 

“Fuck,” he cursed out, griping your sides. “You feel so good.”

You began to move, slowly at first, teasing him with each gentle sway of your hips. The rhythm between you built, a slow, sensual dance that sent waves of pleasure crashing through your bodies. Chan's hands tightened on your waist, guiding you, encouraging you, as he moaned softly, his head falling back against the pillows.

“Yeah, baby,” he groaned, voice rough. “Fuck, yes. Just like that.” He arched his back, pushing himself further into you. His hands moved from your waist to your thighs, his fingers digging into your flesh as he urged you on. “Don't stop. Please, don't stop.”

Another slow smile spread across your face. The power you held over him was intoxicating to you, maybe even a little dangerous to your ego. You leaned down, brushing your lips against his. “I wasn't planning on it.”

You increased the tempo, your hips moving with a newfound urgency of driving him to the edge. The rhythm between you intensified, a primal dance of pleasure and need.  

You knew you were already close, that the precipice of orgasm was just within reach. The feeling was overwhelming, a tidal wave of sensation that threatened to consume you entirely. Chan's eyes fluttered closed, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He could feel the tension building within him, the pressure mounting with each thrust.  

You continued to move, faster now, your bodies locked together in a frenzy of desire. The world seemed to fade away, the only thing that mattered was the feeling of him inside you, the heat, the overwhelming pleasure. You were lost in the moment, consumed by the fire that burned between you.

A low moan escaped your lips as he pressed against you, his fingers tracing tight circles around your most sensitive spot. 

“Fuck, Chan,” you screamed, your head falling back, eyes closing as the pressure began to feel exquisite.

He peppered kisses across your chest and neck, his touch alternating between quick pinches and slow, tantalizing rolls of his thumb against your clit. Without warning, his hips surged upwards, driving him deeper inside you. You cried out his name again, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“That's it, baby,” he commanded, “scream my name.”

One arm snaked around your waist, bringing you against him, while the other braced him against the mattress. He began to thrust into you, a relentless rhythm that belied the fact that you were supposed to be the one in control. But neither of you cared. His cock felt so incredibly good inside you, your pussy clenching around him in a tight embrace.

“Chan!” you cried, your voice filled with a mixture of pleasure and desperation.  

The head of his cock found that sweet spot deep within you, and he immediately noticed your reaction, repeating the movement, again and again, until stars began to burst behind your closed eyelids.

The more Chan rhythmically rubbed your clit, the more you felt yourself tightening around him, your release imminent. His breath hitched as you reached your peak, your body shuddering with release. He cried out your name, his own release following close behind as spilled himself inside you. You collapsed against him, your bodies still trembling, your hearts pounding in unison. 

The world dissolved around you, the only thing that existed was the two of you, connected in the most intimate way possible, lost in a sea of pure, unadulterated pleasure. His arms wrapped around you comfortingly, as if he were afraid you'd run away, and you buried your face in his neck, trying to regulate your breathing and savoring the aftershocks, the incredible feeling of your skin melded together. 

Still inside you, Chan almost couldn't believe it at this moment. The reality of you, of this, was almost too much to comprehend. He felt the warmth of you surrounding him, the gentle pulse of your muscles contracting around him, a constant reminder of the incredible intimacy you shared. He looked down at you, your face flushed and relaxed, your eyes closed in contentment. 

He traced the curve of your cheek with his thumb, marveling at the softness of your skin. It was real. You were real. And you were here, with him, wrapped in the aftermath of a moment that had left both of you breathless.

Chan wanted to stay like this forever, locked in this perfect intimacy, lost in the wonder of you. And he knew, with a certainty that settled deep in his bones, that he would do anything to keep it. 

He brushed a stray strand of hair from your forehead, before confessing, “I wanted this for so long.”

Your eyelids fluttered open, and you met his eyes, a soft smile gracing your lips. "Mmm," you hummed, snuggling closer to him. “Me too.” 

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, and Chan blinked. “Really?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

Certainly, he hadn't expected that. He thought he was the only one clinging to this moment, the only one so deeply affected by it, that he was certain he was thoroughly gone for anyone else. The fact that you felt the same way, that you’d wanted this just as much as he had, sent a fresh wave of warmth through him. 

You nodded, your smile widening. “Really, really,” you confirmed, fingers tracing the line of his beautiful jaw. “I've been wanting this...for longer than I care to admit.” 

He felt a blush creeping up his neck, a mixture of pleasure and disbelief swirling within him. 

“Wow,” he breathed, his voice barely a whisper.  “I...I didn't think…”

“Didn't think what?” you teased, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

He hesitated, suddenly feeling shy again. “Didn't think you felt the same way. I thought...I thought I thought you were just a little bit out of my limit, I guess.”

Looking away for a moment, Chan suddenly felt fascinated by a stray thread on the sheet. Saying that out loud sounded ridiculous, he knew. Seungkwan and Vernon would probably laugh at him if they could hear him now. He was a grown ass man; a successful dancer, yet he felt like a nervous teenager confessing his feelings for the first time to the girl he had a silly little crush on. 

Except it was no longer silly for him anymore, and he was sure the feeling burning in his chest was much bigger than a crush. Love? He preferred to think about it after the effects of the afterglow had worn off.

His mind was filled with something else. For instance, the fact that, once, he'd been so sure you were out of his reach, so convinced that he was lucky just to be in your orbit. To know that you felt the same way, that you saw him as an equal, was both exhilarating and terrifying.

You gently cupped his face in your hands, turning his gaze back to yours. “Out of your limit?” you echoed. “Channie, I’m so in your limit that is actually embarrassing. I’ve always been in your limit.”

He raised an eyebrow, another flicker of disbelief in his eyes. “Always?”

“From the moment I saw you on that stage, two years ago,” you confessed. “I saw something in you, something special. Something...that made me want to get to know you better.”

Chan chuckled, a self-deprecating sound. “And you weren't scared off by my…awkwardness around you?”

You laughed, a warm, genuine sound that filled the room. “Your awkwardness is part of your charm,” you teased. “Besides,” you added, leaning in to whisper against his lips, “I can be pretty awkward myself sometimes.”

He grinned, his earlier shyness melting away. “Is that so?”

You nodded, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “Absolutely. But you'll have to stick around to find out just how awkward I can be.”

He chuckled, his arms tightening around you. “I think,” he said, his voice laced with affection. “I'm willing to take that risk.” Then he paused, a shadow crossing his face briefly. “Can I ask you something, tough?”

“Mhmm.”

“Jongin. Why… why did you date him?”

You sighed a hint of weariness in your eyes. You should have seen it coming.

“Honestly, Channie?” you began, “Because at the time, I didn't think you were interested too.” You met his gaze, your eyes filled with honesty. “Like I said earlier, he showed me the kind of attention I thought I needed. He was…persistent. And you,” you paused, choosing your words carefully, “you seemed…distant. You ran away whenever I tried to talk to you. At least now I know why.”

He winced slightly, recognizing the truth in your words. He'd been so afraid of rejection that he'd inadvertently pushed you away. “I…I was an idiot.” 

You smiled sadly. “We both were,” you shrugged. “But,” you added, a brighter note entering your voice, “we're not idiots anymore.” You leaned in, kissing him softly. “And now,” you gave him another peck, “I have exactly what I want.”

Chan cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks. “Me too.” He pulled you closer, burying his face in your hair. “Thank you.”

“For what?” you asked, your voice muffled against his chest.

“For giving me a second chance.”

You pulled back slightly, searching for his eyes. “You don’t have to thank me, baby,” you said softly, with a teasing smile playing on your lips. “You just came inside me, I think you earned it.”

A slow grin spread across his face, a mixture of amusement and pure adoration. His eyebrows raised suggestively.

“Oh, is that how it works?” he teased, his eyes sparkling. “So, every time I…you know…” 

You laughed, playfully shoving him in the chest. 

“Don't get any ideas, Mr. Lee” you said, though the heat rising in your cheeks betrayed your words. “I'm a tough negotiator. You'll have to work a lot harder than that to earn my gratitude.”

“Oh, I'm not worried about that. I'm a very hard worker. And, I'm more than happy to put in the overtime.”

“We'll see about that,” you whispered against his lips, though the smile playing on your face suggested you were more than willing to let him try. “You're incredible, Lee Chan. Don't ever forget that.”

He smiled, his heart overflowing with love. “I won't,” he promised. “Not anymore.” 

©sound-of-scoups

If you liked this feel free to let me know with a like, reblog, comment, whatever you prefer! ❤️

A/N: The next morning + Vernon and Seungkwan's reactions to finding out about them were in my plans for the story, but in the end, I thought this ending was perfect and decided not to include. If you'd like to read about it, please let me know here.

[vad-hander]

I Love You More

pairing: Jaebeom x reader

others: Jinyoung, GOT7 members

genre: fluff

warnings: idol GOT7!au, married couple, pure softness, crying

Words: 1,1k

______

short soft one-shot inspired by GOT7's concerts this weekend and them being so emotional and crying and saying a lot of things that tore my heart apart. Jaebeom will always hold a very special place in my heart and I was excited to write this! I haven't written for got7 in years, so let me know, if you're interested in more

alsooo, I've never posted anything this short, so let me know if you enjoy stuff like this and I should be doing more of it!

_____

You stood in the corner of the waiting room, your eyes trained on the only man that actually mattered in your life and as the teardrops streamed down his pretty face your heart squeezed in an attempt to pump blood into your head and steady out its beats. Your heart ached, but you held back from crying  in this moment with him - if he’d see your tears you knew it’d be an undying contest of emotional breakdown and you didn’t want him to go through that. You loved him too much. He only ever deserved love, happiness and much easier life than he was living now. 

Jackson patted Jaebeom’s head and the staffs that filled the room tried to continue with their duties, but also be mindful of 7 crying and sobbing men in the centre of that room. Your gaze shifted to sobbing Mark and the way teared up Youngjae and Bam tried to calm him down. At least this view wasn’t tearing your heart into pieces. As a figure approached you, though, you had to readjust your eyes and focus on the man in front of you. The very next moment Jinyoung’s very warm hand grabbed yours and pulled you behind him. He felt your resistance and turned around, reading your face expression perfectly.

"I think he really needs you to calm him down." Jinyoung pulled onto your arm once again and you followed. "Hey, Seunah" Jinyoung called out in an attempt to whisper, but making it more of a low growl. Jackson, raising his head and seeing Jinyoung pulling on to you took a step back. Giving you space to come closer and giving you two space for privacy. Jaebeom raised his head a little, as he felt the loss of contact and took a few blinks to focus his teary eyes on you. Both Jackson and Jinyoung respectfully took a few more steps back and as you approached Jaebeom a little more, you couldn’t hold back a pout. Jaebeom straightened his back properly and it seemed the tears streamed down his face at a much lower pace. You pursed your lips and took a little step closer, not forgetting precaution and turning around to read the room - everyone seemed busy with themselves and their duties. But in all honesty - you couldn’t just stand and watch him any longer, even if the people watched you two attentively - your heart ached the moment you saw that first tear fall down his face back on stage. 

“You did so well-.“ You still whispered, everyone acted busy, but peoples’ ears were always perked up. Jaebeom blinked more tears down his face. Shit, you only made it worse for him. “Everything went so perfectly. You worked so hard. I’m so proud. These should be happy tears, everything worked out amazing. Right?“ you tried to give Jaebeom a smile, your words only made the tears fall down harder, while Park Jinyoung expected you to do the opposite. “Ah-, love, don’t cry.“ You finally sighed and reached a hand to his face, cupping his cheek and making a lame attempt at catching the teardrops - it did seem impossible. The waterfall that streamed down his face was impossible to stop with a finger. Jaebeom leaned in into your touch and closed his eyes. You tried to caress the softness of his cheek, while not making it too inappropriate for a working environment. “Everyone’s so proud and everyone are so thankful for the things you do. You’ve put so much hard work into this, it’s okay to cry. I can’t even hold back my tears for you and ah-.“ Jaebeom suddenly draped his arms over your shoulders and lost his face in the crook of your neck. You patted his nape in a very weak attempt to calm him down. He seemed crashed, drained and exhausted. You really wished you could lift him up just like that and transfer to bed and let him get as much sleep as he needed - doesn’t matter if its 12 hours or a week. You watched him work so hard all these weeks to make the concerts possible, you watched him all those years make all those things possible while also being a sweet and loving husband to you. “I just hope it’s tears of relief. As long as they’re not tears of pain - it doesn’t matter. We could cry all night long, right?“ You tried to give him a little kiss, forgetting all the work space boundaries in your head, landing your lips on his jaw. You patted his nape a few more times, moving your arms lower - you gave his waist a squeeze and rubbed your face against his shoulder - the sobbing man in your arms seemed to calm down at least a little. 

“I love you.“ you breathed out, somehow in unison with Jaebeom and as shocked as you were at the silly little coincidence, Jaebeom moved back a little and looked at you properly, with no tears falling out of his eyes,  beautiful irises focusing on you. 

“That’s silly of us.“ You giggled, moving your fingers to dry out the tears on Jaebeom’s cheeks. 

“But I, definitely love you more.“ He even made a weak attempt to smile and made you feel more at ease yourself. The air suddenly felt lighter and the second time he tried to make that little smile - the smugness on his face, your chest burned with love. Jaebeom covered your palm with his and moved it closer to his mouth. “I wouldn’t be here without your support.“ You knew exactly what he meant by that, how hard it was for both him and you to get his mind to a better place. You weren’t about to shy away and act like you weren’t behind it all. In a great partnership with the man himself, of course. 

“I know.“ You accepted with a playful nod and watched his lips give your palm a kiss with a smile. You were glad you could refer to dark times with a joke and a smile now. Jaebeom let go of your arm and tried to dry his face with the shirt he wore. 

“Ah!“ Jinyoung materialised behind you, his firm palm on your shoulder making you jump in place. “Nothing like a wife’s touch that could calm a man down.“ He teased happily, wrinkles round his eyes as he smiled were the reason for a little upward motion on the corners of your lips. 

“Sh! Shut up, there are strangers in this room.“ you hissed at the man, feigning annoyance. Jinyoung ruffled your hair with a teasing face expression.

“Hey, show some respect.“ you played back, your unending battle of teasing continuing every time you opened your mouths.

“Right, show some respect to my wife!“ Jaebeom chimed in, regret on his face immediate, as the both of you knew the comeback would be explosive. Jaebeom wrapped an arm around your waist, you not being sure whether he was backing you up or wanted you to back him up in this.

Jinyoung, though, already moved on -  looking at the members and then at his leader and giving you nod. 

don't forget to like and follow for more <3

[latin5mamii]

camera

warnings: fluff yet a bit smut

genre: Jude Bellingham x reader

summary: You two really needed a camera that holds all of your memories, even the intimate ones...

author's note: late night thoughts pt.2 😉

“For my favorite photographer,” Jude announced as he breezed into your bedroom, a large parcel cradled in his hands.

You looked up from where you were lounging on the bed, a book splayed open on your chest. The soft afternoon sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a dreamy halo over everything in the room. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you set the book aside and propped yourself up.

“What’s this?” you asked, curiosity dancing in your eyes.

Jude’s grin was both mischievous and affectionate as he settled on the bed beside you. His hand found its way to your thigh, sending a shiver up your spine. “Just open it. I’m sure you’ll love it.”

You could barely contain your excitement as you tore off the wrapping paper. There, nestled inside the box, was a beautifully crafted, leather-bound camera. Your breath caught in your throat, and you looked at Jude with wide, delighted eyes.

“Jude, it’s amazing!” you exclaimed, your heart fluttering with joy.

His smile deepened, and he leaned in, his eyes locked onto yours. “I thought of you as soon as I saw it.”

Moved by his thoughtfulness, you leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to his lips, your heart swelling with affection. “We have to try it out right now,” you said, pulling back with a playful sparkle in your eyes.

With a laugh, you both began to experiment with funny poses. The room soon filled with peals of laughter as you struck goofy poses and made exaggerated faces. Jude mimicked you with his own brand of silliness, and the camera clicked away, capturing every joyous moment.

But as the minutes passed, the atmosphere in the room shifted. The playful energy began to morph into something deeper, more intense. The smiles lingered a bit longer, the touches became more charged with a burgeoning desire.

Jude’s fingers brushed against your arm, the touch electrifying and intimate. He leaned closer, his voice a low, velvety murmur that sent a thrill through you. “I think it’s time we tried something a little different,” he said, his gaze filled with a promise of unspoken things.

A shiver of anticipation raced down your spine. You nodded, your eyes meeting his with an unspoken agreement. “I’m all for it.”

Jude’s arms slipped around your waist, pulling you close. His breath was warm and tantalizing against the back of your neck, and his fingers traced the curve of your shoulder before sliding slowly down your arm. The touch was feather-light, sending a cascade of tingles through your skin.

With a playful tilt of your head, you looked at him, your lips curling into a teasing smile. “Let’s make this special.”

He cupped your face in his hands, his gaze unwavering as he locked eyes with you. The camera clicked, capturing the tender moment before his lips descended onto yours. The kiss was deep and passionate, a merging of warmth and urgency that made your heart race and your breath catch.

The camera continued to click, each photo freezing the fervent intimacy between you. His hands roamed over your body with a mix of tenderness and fervor, and the kisses grew more intense, more desperate. The camera captured every moment: his fingers tangled in your hair, your bodies pressed close, the way his lips moved against yours with increasing intensity.

In one photograph, Jude’s hands were wrapped around your waist, his lips barely brushing yours as he gazed at you with an expression of pure devotion. In another, he lifted you effortlessly into his arms, his eyes shining with adoration as he held you close.

You ran your fingers through his hair, pulling him even closer, deepening the kiss. His hands traveled up your back, guiding you gently to lie down on the bed. The camera flashed again, preserving the tender moment as you both lay side by side, your faces flushed with passion and joy.

Jude’s voice was a soft whisper as he cupped your face,

“These photos are going to be my favorite memories,” he said, his voice thick and low.

You smiled, your heart overflowing with love as you kissed him deeply, you murmured against his lips,

 “Mine too”

[issues4him]

3 - FIRST TOUCH ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

ghost!rafe x shy!reader series

summary: rafe sneaks into your room late at night. he decides to answer the question that’s been brewing in the back of his mind.

cw: none, flirting, lowkey angst if u squint

the soft glow of the morning sun filtered through the grand windows, casting warm golden light across the lavish sitting room. you stirred, shifting slightly on the plush couch, the weight of sleep still pulling at your limbs.

a second later, the distant sound of clinking cutlery and muffled voices from the kitchen reached your ears. your brows furrowed as your mind sluggishly caught up with reality.

why were you on the couch?

the events of the night before rushed back all at once. the midnight glass of water. the painting. him.

your eyes fluttered open fully, scanning the room as if expecting rafe to still be there, but of course—he wasn’t.

just a dream, you tried to convince yourself.

“oh, dear, what on earth are you doing sleeping out here?”

you jolted upright, your heart leaping to your throat as your grandmother’s voice rang through the air. she stood at the edge of the sitting room, arms crossed, a concerned look on her face.

“i—i must’ve—” you cleared your throat, smoothing your dress as if that would make you look any less ridiculous. “i couldn’t sleep, so i came down here, and i guess i—”

“fell asleep in the draftiest part of the house?” your grandmother shook her head, though her voice was full of amusement. “honestly, dear, you’ll catch a cold.”

you scrambled to your feet, cheeks warm with embarrassment. “it was just an accident...”

your grandmother hummed knowingly, but she didn’t press. “well, come along, breakfast is ready.”

as you followed your grandmother toward the dining room, something made you hesitate. a prickling awareness ran down your spine, and without thinking, your gaze flickered toward the grand staircase—toward his painting.

your breath caught.

rafe was back.

frozen in oil and canvas, just as he always had been. his blue eyes bore into you with that same unreadable intensity, his posture upright, his uniform pristine. the golden frame around him seemed almost too perfect, too undisturbed, as if last night had never happened.

had it?

your fingers curled into the fabric of your robe as you stood there, unmoving. he looked exactly the same, and yet you could swear there was something new in his expression. something smug.

almost like he knew something you didn’t.

“are you coming, sweetheart?” your grandmother’s sweet voice snapped you out of your daze.

you swallowed hard, stealing one last glance at him. rafe remained perfectly still, the portrait of a long-dead soldier.

you tore your gaze away and hurried after your grandmother.

but as you walked away, it felt like he was burning holes in the back of your head.

——————

it’s late—later than you meant to stay up. you sit at your vanity, brushing through your hair, your eyelids heavy with sleep. the room is quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old house settling around you.

then, you feel it.

a soft little tug at the end of your hair.

your brush stills in your hand.

slowly, you raise your eyes to the mirror, your pulse quickening. at first, there’s nothing—just your own wide-eyed reflection staring back at you. but then, behind you, a shape flickers into view, leaning down close.

“miss me?”

your heart jumps as rafe’s face appears right beside yours, his lips curved into that lazy, smug grin.

you whip around so fast that you nearly topple off the stool, one hand gripping your vanity for balance. “oh my—”

“careful now,” he chuckles, straightening. “wouldn’t want you to get hurt on my account, darlin’.”

your pulse pounds in your ears, hands clenching at your the vanity’s edge. “you—you can’t just do that!” you whisper-shout, cheeks burning.

rafe tilts his head, feigning innocence. “do what?”

“you know what!”

he chuckles, arms crossing over his broad chest. “you should’ve seen your face.” his voice drops, teasing. “cute.”

your stomach flips at the word, but you scowl, refusing to let him see how flustered you are. “i thought ghosts were supposed to be all ominous and brooding.”

he steps closer, his translucent form passing right through the edge of your vanity. “maybe,” he muses, “but where’s the fun in that?”

you grip the edge of the white vanity as you’re still seated on the stool.

rafe is way too amused. his arms are crossed, his blue eyes glinting in the dim candlelight, looking like he just won some kind of game you didn’t even know you were playing.

“you look like you’ve seen a ghost, hun.”

you glare at him, heart still racing. “you are a ghost!”

he shrugs, completely unbothered. “and?”

your mouth opens, then closes, because—yeah. and? what exactly is the proper reaction when a ghost just appears in your room at midnight, smirking like he owns the place?

your stomach is still in knots from the initial shock, but rafe just tilts his head, watching you, looking far too entertained. his gaze flickers over your body, your gaze following his.

you then notice where his eyes have drifted—

oh. oh no.

you’re wearing nothing but a tiny, lace bralette and matching sleep shorts. barely-there cotton that clings to your skin. clearly, you had not expected company.

heat rushes to your face. you fight the urge to cover yourself, but it’s impossible to ignore the way rafe’s gaze flickers over you, slow and deliberate.

his smirk deepens. “cute outfit.”

your whole body burns. “get out.”

he ignores that completely, stepping closer instead, his voice dropping to something lower, something teasing. “you’re mean tonight.”

“because you broke into my room!”

“broke in?” he chuckles, shifting his weight onto one hip, all effortless confidence. “sweetheart, i don’t need doors. you should know that by now.”

your fingers tighten around the vanity. “why are you even here?”

he sighs dramatically, like the answer is obvious. “i can’t just check in on my girl?”

your face flushed with color. “wha—i’m not your—”

“oh, please.” he tilts his head, eyes dragging down way too slowly before flicking back up. “you picked that outfit for me, didn’t you?”

your skin burns. “NO—i did not—”

he just looks at you. that same cocky, knowing look.

you visibly deflate.

rafe grins. “that’s what i thought.”

your stomach churned at the certainty in his voice. the nickname, the way he spoke to you like he knew you better than you knew yourself—it was infuriating. and maybe a little bit true.

groaning, you stood from your vanity chair, and dove under the floarak-patterned duvet on your bed, desperate to create some distance from his stare.

you peeked over the top of your blanket, heart thudding. rafe stood at the foot of your bed, arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself for someone who had just appeared in your room.

your breathing quickened when he stopped right beside your bed. he tilted his head, studying you. “so… tell me, honey… if you’re so scared of me,” he murmured, “why aren’t you running? screaming? calling for help?” his voice was teasing, but his expression was softer now, curious. “or is it because deep down, you don’t want me to leave?”

“shut up.” your throat tightened. he was too close. too solid-looking for a ghost, despite the way the room’s dim light passed through the edges of his form.

rafe exhaled through his nose, almost like a sigh. then, slowly, he lowered himself onto the edge of your bed. the mattress didn’t dip. he didn’t move the blankets. he just sat.

he hesitated. then, after a second, he reached out.

you flinched instinctively, expecting the touch of nothing, of cold air. but then, warmth. a whisper of pressure against your wrist. faint. barely there.

rafe froze. his hand still hovered over yours, his eyes locked onto where his fingers had made the softest contact with your skin.

neither of you spoke.

then, carefully, like he was afraid you might disappear, rafe flattened his palm over the back of your hand. the pressure didn’t change much, but the warmth was stronger now. he wasn’t just there. he was real.

his voice, when he finally spoke, was quiet. “you can feel me?”

you swallowed, nodding. “yeah,” you whispered. “i can.”

for a long moment, he just stared. then, slowly, the corner of his mouth lifted—not in a smirk, not in teasing. just relief.

you barely noticed when your own fingers moved, barely registered the way you turned your hand palm-up beneath his. his fingers curled hesitantly over yours, still light, still not all the way there.

his voice was barely above a breath. “guess that means i’m not just a memory, huh?”

you shook your head. “no,” you murmured. “you’re real.”

rafe swallowed, gaze still fixed on where his hand held yours. and for the first time since you’d met him, he looked almost human.

rafe didn’t let go. he didn’t move, didn’t shift away, didn’t tease you like he normally would. he just held your hand—light, but warm. real.

you felt like you couldn’t breathe. like if you spoke too loud, moved too fast, the moment might shatter, and he’d be gone.

his thumb brushed over your knuckles. it was the softest touch, just a whisper of pressure, but it sent a shiver up your spine.

rafe must’ve noticed, because his lips quirked up the tiniest bit. “didn’t mean to make you so nervous, sweetheart.”

“i’m not nervous,” you whispered back, even though the way your pulse raced in your ears completely betrayed you.

his grin deepened. “liar.”

you huffed, looking away, but he squeezed your fingers—barely, like he was testing how much he could actually touch you. the warmth was steadier now, stronger. his grip wasn’t solid, not quite, but it wasn’t slipping through you completely anymore, either.

it made your head spin.

“how is this happening?” you murmured. “you’ve never been able to touch anything before, right?”

rafe was still watching your joined hands like he couldn’t quite believe it himself. “no,” he admitted. “not in two hundred and fifty years.”

that made your stomach dip. two hundred and fifty years. that was impossible. that was tragic.

you hesitated, then, before you could second-guess yourself, gave his hand a gentle squeeze. his head snapped up, eyes sharp with surprise.

you swallowed, shy all over again. “does it—does it feel the same for you?”

rafe exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what was happening. “not exactly,” he said. “it’s like…” he frowned slightly, searching for the words. “like holding onto a ball of warmth. like grabbing at hot air.”

your brows pulled together. “so it doesn’t feel like real skin?”

he huffed another laugh, lifting his gaze back to yours. “no, princess,” he murmured. “but,” his face softened slightly, “it’s the closest i’ve gotten.”

something about that made your heart ache. his lips parted, just slightly.

“you’re the difference,” he said suddenly, his voice quieter, more thoughtful.

you blinked. “what?”

“you,” he repeated, brow furrowing. “i’ve never been able to touch anything. but you… you can feel me.”

your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “why me?”

rafe tilted his head, a slow, knowing grin spreading across his face. “c’mon, sweetheart,” he said, voice warm as honey. “i think you already know why.”

your throat tightened. he wasn’t teasing. not really. he was right.

you’d spent your whole life loving the boy in the painting.

maybe that was all it took.

maybe love was enough to bring a ghost back to life.

a/n: i’m so sorry this took so long