#when i want to express a thought but can't find the words

[yooniivrse]

moving in | myg

summary. in which moving in together isn't as simple as it seems, but no task is herculean with yoongi by your side

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: established relationship au, angst if you read this with a magnifying glass

word count: 3k

content: oc and yoongi finally move in together / yoongi is the sweetest but oc also wants to kick is ass half the time

warnings: none :3

notes: i'm back from my break, did you guys miss me :> this was inspired by an ask by an anon which you can find here (tysm anon ur amazing). likes, reblogs, comments and feedback is always so so appreciated. enjoy my loves!

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Privacy was a luxury in Yoongi's dorm. You had known this from the moment you first started visiting him here—how his space, while technically his, was never truly his own. There was always a member walking past his bedroom door, the faint hum of conversations drifting in from the common area, or the occasional loud clang from the kitchen at midnight.

You never minded it too much—at least, that’s what you have always told yourself. But when Namjoon walks in unannounced for the third time this evening, catching you and Yoongi curled up on the bed, you let out an exaggerated groan.

“You guys ever knock?” you tease, though there is a tired edge to your voice.

Namjoon blinked, looking apologetic as he took a step back. “Oh—uh, my bad. Was just looking for my headphones.”

Yoongi sighs next to you. He shifts his body, pulling his hand away from your waist to rest it under his head. “They’re in the studio, hyung,” he mutters without even opening his eyes.

Namjoon makes a face of realisation before nodding. “Rightt. Thanks, man.” He disappears just as quickly as he had entered, the door shutting behind him with a soft click.

You sigh, turning your body and draping your arm across your boyfriend. “You know, for a bunch of guys who's lived together for this long, you’d think knocking would come naturally.”

Yoongi chuckles, the sound deep and low. “You’d think.”

It's annoying when you can't even have the few days that Yoongi isn't burying himself with work to yourself completely. But though Yoongi agrees with your sentiment about his members, you know that you're roommates aren't much better.

You lean into his side, nestling yourself against his warmth as you put your thoughts to the side. His arm automatically drapes over your shoulders, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of your sleeve. The silence that follows is comfortable, lulling you into a sense of ease—until Yoongi speaks again.

“You know,” he starts, voice lazy but thoughtful, “we’d have more privacy if we moved out together.”

The words send a jolt of awareness through you.

You stiffen slightly but don’t pull away, choosing instead to focus on the way his fingers trace slow circles against your wrist. He has mentioned this before—moving out. Not just for himself, but for the both of you. You have always brushed it off, too scared to give it serious thought.

“I dunno…” you mutter, eyes flickering up to the jagged ceiling.

The shift in the air was subtle, but you feel it immediately. Yoongi’s fingers still, and when you chance a glance up at him, you notice how his expression has hardened slightly, his jaw tight.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” His tone isn’t harsh—it never is when it comes to you—but there was something pointed about it.

“I mean…” You hesitate, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “I just—I haven’t really thought about it seriously, I guess.”

Yoongi doesn’t reply right away. He just watches you, his dark eyes scanning your face like he's trying to read between the lines. “You haven’t?”

You swallow. “I mean, I have, but—”

“But?”

There is no malice in his voice, but the weight of his gaze makes you squirm. You exhale slowly.

"But...I don't know."

You're awfully conscious of the way Yoongi's chest moves up and down with every breath; awfully conscious of how his heartbeat is lost to the sound of your own nervous thoughts.

"Oh."

You expect him to continue speaking, but he doesn't, instead choosing to let the silence hang in the air.

The last thing you want is to hurt him in any shape or form, but you know you'll sound stupid if you put your thoughts into words. This isn't the first time Yoongi has brought up the idea of moving out together, and you've managed to evade giving him an answer every time. But the quiet drags on, becoming unbearable with the second and you give in.

“Yoongi, it’s not that I don’t want to. I just…” You take a deep breath. “I don’t want to seem completely dependent on you.”

His eyebrows twitch. “What?”

“I mean, you already do so much for me,” you admit, fidgeting with the fabric of your hoodie. “I don’t want you thinking I can’t handle things on my own.”

Yoongi lets out a sharp breath, his head tilting slightly as he processes your words. “You think I’d care about that?”

You shrug, feeling silly. “I don’t know.”

Yoongi scoffs lightly, shaking his head. “You do realise I’m the one who keeps asking you to move in, right? It’s not like I feel obligated or something. I want you there.”

You bite your lip. “Yeah, but…”

His gaze flickers with something unreadable. “But what? If you genuinely don't like the idea, just tell me. I won't be offended.”

Yoongi would definitely be offended. Well, offended isn't the word he would use, but he'd be disappointed. It's a big deal for him to actually want to spend most of his days with someone who he knows he won't find himself constantly drained around.

But the last thing Yoongi wants is for you to be uncomfortable. Even if it stung a bit, he'd understand because it's you. He'd do anything for you.

You sigh. “I also don’t want you to get doxed or harassed because of me. What if someone spots us? What if it turns into a whole thing?”

Yoongi doesn't react right away. He simply watches you, his fingers tightening slightly around your wrist before he exhales. “You really think I’d let that stop me?”

You shift. “And besides,” you add quietly, “you’ve told me before that you need your own space—that people overstaying annoys you.” You glance up at him hesitantly. “What if I annoy you?”

Yoongi blinks. His lips part slightly, as if he's surprised you even had that thought. For a moment, he just stares at you.

“That’s different,” he said.

“How?”

“Because it’s you.”

Your breath hitches.

“I like having my own space,” he continues, voice softer now. “But I also like coming home to you. And yeah, people overstaying annoys me, but when have I ever wanted you to leave?”

You think back to all the times you've gotten up to leave his studio, only for him to pull you back down beside him. The times you’ve texted him that you were heading home from the dorms, only for him to insist you stay just a little longer.

Never.

The answer was never.

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, the door swings open again.

This time, it's Taehyung.

“Oh, come on,” Yoongi groans, running his hand through his hair.

Taehyung blinks. “Uh—was just looking for my hoodie. My bad.”

As the door clicks shut once more, Yoongi turns back to you, deadpan. “If that’s not proof that we need to move out, I don’t know what is.”

You stare at him for a moment, then let out a breathy laugh.

“…Fine,” you mutter.

Yoongi’s eyes glint. “Fine?”

You sigh. “Fine. Let’s move out.”

A slow, satisfied smirk stretches across his lips. “Good,” he murmurs, leaning in slightly. His voice drops to a teasing whisper. “Because I already started looking at apartments.”

Your eyes widen. “Yoongi—”

He just grins, turning to fully wrap his hands around your figure.

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Moving day comes a lot faster than you expect it to.

It's overwhelming, not just because of the sheer number of boxes but because of what those boxes mean. This isn’t just another visit to Yoongi’s place, nor is it a temporary stay.

This is different. Permanent.

And that scares you.

Yoongi, on the other hand, has been frustratingly calm about the whole thing.

He stands next to you in the elevator, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, looking completely at ease. Meanwhile, your heart pounds against your ribs as the floors tick past one by one. You fiddle with the keys in your hand, the ones Yoongi had given you just this morning.

“This is really happening, huh?” you murmur, half to yourself.

Yoongi glances down at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You sound surprised.”

You exhale. “I am.”

He tilts his head slightly, eyes twinkling with amusement. “You agreed to this, remember?”

“Yeah, but…” You hesitate. “It just feels surreal. Like, we’re actually moving in together. That’s a big deal.”

Yoongi hums in agreement but doesn’t seem nearly as fazed as you are. If anything, he looks… content. Maybe even excited, in his own quiet way.

The elevator doors ding open, revealing a long, well-lit hallway.

Yoongi leads the way, his stride casual, as if he has already memorised the path. When you finally reach the apartment door, he gestures towards the keys in your hand.

“Go on,” he says. “The first time opening the door should be yours.”

You glance at him, then at the door, suddenly feeling the weight of this moment settle over you.

Taking a breath, you slid the key into the lock and turned it. The mechanism clicks smoothly, the door creaking open to reveal your new home.

The first thing you notice is the vast emptiness that fills the walls.

The apartment itself is beautiful—modest yet modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows that bathe the space in natural light. The hardwood floors gleam under the afternoon sun, and the walls, still bare, seem to echo your movements as you step inside.

But there was nothing here. No furniture, no decorations, just an open space waiting to be filled.

You swallow, feeling oddly displaced. Everything is so...hollow. It's eerie.

Yoongi, again, seems unfazed. He steps past you, kicking off his shoes and letting out a satisfied sigh. “Not bad,” he muses, glancing around. “I forgot how much I liked empty spaces.”

You stare at him. “Are you serious? It’s so… bare.”

Yoongi smirks. “Exactly.”

You groan, setting your bag down. “Okay, well, you might be comfortable living like some kind of minimalist monk, but I need furniture.”

He chuckles, watching as you wander further into the apartment. You run your fingers along the smooth countertop of the kitchen island and sneak a peak into the—unfortunately empty—fridge, before making your way to the bedroom.

The bedroom is the emptiest of all.

The only thing in there is a single mattress on the floor, still wrapped in plastic. No bed frame, no pillows—just the sad, lonely mattress sitting in the middle of an otherwise vacant room.

You turn to Yoongi, unimpressed.

“Really?”

Yoongi grins. “It’s temporary.”

“You didn’t even get pillows?”

“I forgot.”

You sigh dramatically, placing your hands on your hips. “You know, for someone who planned this whole move, you’re really underprepared.”

Yoongi shrugs. “We’ll manage.”

You shake your head with a fond smile before wandering back into the main living space. It's strange—this apartment was supposed to be yours now, but it still feels so foreign. Like you're just visiting.

As if sensing your unease, Yoongi comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. “You’ll get used to it,” he murmurs.

You lean into him instinctively. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His voice was warm, reassuring. “It’s just a space right now. We’ll make it a home.”

You exhale, feeling the tension in your chest loosen just a little.

For now, this is enough.

By the time the sun has set, exhaustion has settled deep into your bones. The day had been spent moving the essentials—clothes, toiletries, a few kitchen items—and while you haven’t even scratched the surface of fully furnishing the place, it already feels like you have done enough heavy lifting for a week.

Now, standing in the still near-empty bedroom, all you want is to curl up somewhere comfy—somewhere that wasn't just a mattress on the floor.

It looks even sadder in the dim light. No bed frame, no pillows—just a single, plastic-wrapped mattress in the middle of a room that feels far too spacious for what little was inside. The walls are bare, the windows uncovered, leaving the city lights to cast faint, shifting patterns against the walls.

Yoongi, as usual, seems unbothered. He tosses his phone onto the mattress, stretching his arms over his head as he looks around. “Not bad,” he muses.

You turned to him, unimpressed. “Not bad? Yoongi, we don’t even have blankets.”

“We have hoodies. Besides, you have me.”

“Oh my god.”

He smiles, clearly entertained by your misery. “We’ll go shopping tomorrow,” he reassures. “I was too busy making sure everything else got here today. I figured we could survive one night like this.”

You quirk an eyebrow at his words. “One night? You mean the whole week until the bed frame arrives?”

Yoongi’s smirk falters slightly as he purses his lips. “…Maybe.”

You groan dramatically, flopping down onto the mattress. The plastic crinkles beneath you, making the moment even more pathetic. “This is not how I imagined our first night living together,” you mutter.

Yoongi chuckles, toeing off his socks before sitting down next to you. “How did you imagine it?”

You turn your head to look at him. “I don’t know. Maybe something a little more… romantic? Cosy? With an actual bed?”

Yoongi hums, lying back beside you. “So, no romance in a bare room?”

“None,” you say firmly. “Absolutely zero.”

There was a beat of silence before Yoongi suddenly rolled over, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him.

“Yoongi—” you yelp in surprise, but he only buries his face into your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

“You said no romance,” he murmurs, voice laced with amusement. “So I’m just making sure you’re comfortable.”

You huff, feeling the faintest hint of a smile creeping onto your lips. His body is warm against yours, and despite the lack of pillows or blankets, there is a surprising sense of comfort in simply being here with him.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mutter.

Yoongi hums, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder. “And you’re complaining less now.”

You roll your eyes, though you don’t bother arguing. Because the truth is, despite everything—the bare room, the mattress on the floor, the emptiness surrounding you—you still feel at home.

And that has nothing to do with the apartment itself.

It has everything to do with him.

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The next day, after waking up sore from sleeping on a mattress with no pillows, you and Yoongi ventured out to buy furniture.

It should have been an exciting experience—picking out the things that would turn your apartment into a home. But instead, it became clear within the first fifteen minutes that you and Yoongi have vastly different approaches to shopping.

Yoongi? He was practical. Minimalistic. The type to point at the first couch he saw and say, “That one’s fine,” with zero hesitation.

You, on the other hand, wanted something comfortable, something that felt lived-in before you had even sat on it.

Which was why you're currently standing in the middle of a showroom, arms crossed as you glare at the stiff-looking grey couch Yoongi is sitting on.

“You actually like this?” you ask incredulously.

Yoongi leans back slightly, patting the armrest. “It’s firm. Good back support.”

“It’s uncomfortable.”

“It’s a couch, not a cloud.”

“It should at least be soft enough to sit on for more than ten minutes without feeling like you’re in a waiting room.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

You scoff. “Says the man who literally naps more than anyone I know.” You gesture to the couch. “Can you actually see yourself sleeping on this?”

Yoongi pause. His lips press together like he wants to argue, but then he slowly looks down at the couch as if re-evaluating his choices.

You can see the exact moment he realises that you're right.

“…Maybe not,” he mutters.

You smirk. “That’s what I thought.”

With a victorious huff, you grab his hand and pull him toward the other section of the showroom, stopping in front of a much softer, cosier-looking couch. You plop down on it immediately, sinking into the cushions with a satisfied sigh.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow as he sits down next to you. “This is your dream couch?”

“Try lying down.”

Yoongi shoots you a look but does as you say, shifting until he is lying back against the cushions. You watch as his eyes flutter shut for a moment, his body visibly relaxing.

“…Okay,” he admits. “It’s nice.”

You grin. “Exactly.”

Yoongi cracks one eye open. “But it’s too big.”

You scoff. “It’s a normal-sized couch.”

“For a family of six.”

“For two people who want to be comfortable.”

Yoongi sighed, rubbing his temples like this was the hardest decision he has ever had to make. You know he's being dramatic on purpose, but you also know he doesn’t actually mind letting you win. He just likes to put up a fight first.

“Fine,” he mutters, sitting up. “We’ll get this one.”

You beam. “Thank you for admitting I was right. I know, I know, I'm so amazing.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, unable to fight the smile on his face, but doesn’t argue.

Furniture shopping continues in much the same way. You bicker over dining tables (Yoongi wanted a small one, and you wanted a bigger one “for guests,” which made him scoff because, in his words, “What guests?”). You argue over rugs (“Why do we need one?” “Because it makes the space feel cosy, Yoongi!”).

But despite the back-and-forth, it wasn’t frustrating. If anything, it was fun.

By the end of the day, after picking out a bed frame, a coffee table, and a bookshelf you have absolutely no room for but insist on getting anyway, you both collapse onto one of the display beds.

“We should’ve just bought a fully furnished place,” Yoongi mumbles, staring at the ceiling.

“And miss out on all these cute domestic moments? Never.”

Yoongi glances at you, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Cute, huh?” he murmurs.

You grin. “Very cute.”

Yoongi sighs dramatically but subtly reaches over, intertwining his fingers with yours.

And just like that, your new home was slowly coming together.

[morganaawriterr]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Chapter 05;

— Your Sweet Love

Synosis: In a marriage born out of convenience and plagued by bitterness, You and Sunghoon find yourselves trapped in a cycle of cold indifference and unspoken resentment. Your quiet strength and tender care begin to reach the heart Sunghoon has so carefully guarded. Slowly, walls built from years of hurt and mistrust start to crumble, revealing a shared loneliness neither had acknowledged. With every tentative step toward connection, your hearts yearn for a closeness you’ve long denied yourself selves, leaving both to wonder if you can build something real from the ashes of your forced bond.

Navigation: Intro - 01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05 Pairing: fem!reader X husband!Park Sunghoon Genre: Arranged Marriage trope; Slow Burn; Angst; Fluff; Smut (kinda) Warnings: cursing, mention of pills (some are drugs); abuse; mentions of blood; sexual content; injuries; heavy themes; juicy tension ;) Music: Listen to 'nevertheless ost' and 'the trunk ost'!! Disclaimer: This story is fiction, and it does not reflect real life in any way. This story is heavily inspired by the kdrama 'The Trunk' on Netflix but with a special twist! Words: 7k - The status now is... complete!

A/n: YALL I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS RIGHT NOW! The last chapter is here after 5 weeks and I'm literally crying as I'm typing this. I never thought this story would get this much attention, I just wanted to have fun and post it. But you guys have been incredible to me, leaving nice asks, and complimenting the story... i can't express how grateful I am for each and every one of you! I hope you like this last chapter, it has a little bit of everything! Sadness, fights, sexy time, and fluffy moments too. Again, thank you so so so much for this love <3 Keep supporting me and I will work harder to bring more creative stories like this! (Get ready to get your heart broken ;))

On that same night, Sunghoon didn't stop touching you for one second, as if he had to make up for the lost time. He was all over you, holding your waist as you walked back to the car while laughing like teenagers, and keeping his hand wrapped around yours while he drove home. His fingers never left yours, not even when he needed to shift gears. You walked into your home, and Sunghoon immediately got down on one knee and undid your high heels, being careful not to hurt you. His hands lingered on your heels after he was done, and he lowered his face to place romantic kisses along your legs, eyes permanently fixed on yours.

In the midst of giggles and the intense heat engulfing your body, you pushed him away, unable to calm your frantic heart as he gazed at you with his pleading eyes. With a mischievous smile, you ran ahead of him, darting toward your bedroom. When he finally caught you, Sunghoon gave you a long, lingering kiss before going to his own bedroom to shower. After you both finished, the usual routine of hanging out in the living room continued, except Sunghoon was feeling a little more brave this time.

When you sat in front of him, dressed in your usual bedtime clothes, Sunghoon’s curious fingers traced invisible patterns on your thighs. As the faint sounds of the TV echoed through the tranquil living room, your husband's lips never left yours, eager and desperate for your kiss. You tasted dangerously addicting, and he mourned not kissing you earlier.

The next two weeks passed by inexplicably fast. Sunghoon was busy with work and had to stop coming home for lunch, but despite that, he always tried to come home early to eat dinner with you. You could tell he was home when his arms wrapped around your waist and his head rested on your shoulder while you were making food. When he noticed you were done, he’d turn you around and press his lips to yours, savoring every second of it.

Though it's a new side of him, you love his clinginess. Sunghoon’s constant need to touch you and be near you reassures you of his feelings, bringing you comfort and safety. You've been touchier with him too, though more subtly. Your hands lingered on his while he spoke, and you pressed your body against his at every chance you got, occasionally rubbing your ass against his pelvis to tease him.

Aside from the teasing and the near-daily make-out sessions when you were supposed to be watching the basketball match, Sunghoon never made any intimate moves on you. Though your desire for him grows stronger each day, you let him take his time, letting him decide how far he wants to go each time.

Today is Friday, and Sunghoon came home at the same time as usual. You ate slowly while talking about his day. The company has been a mess ever since his father went to the hospital, so he has to keep an eye on everything. You listen carefully to all his frustrations, his raspy voice making goosebumps appear on your skin. He could talk for hours, and you would sit in silence, listening. That's how much you love his voice.

After eating and helping with the dishes, you both parted ways to have a quick shower and change into comfy clothes, the living room waiting for you. Moments after you stepped out of the foggy bathroom, you realized how dark the weather had suddenly turned, with heavy black clouds painting the sky. Your eyes then shifted to Sunghoon, who was lying down on the sofa, taking up all the space.

“Where am I supposed to sit, Mr. Giant?” you joked while stepping inside the enormous room, the soft sound of your slippers making Sunghoon lift his head and pat the spot right under his head.

“I'm not that big,” he complained as you stepped closer, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Sunghoon, your feet are dangling off the edge of the couch,” you said, arching an eyebrow but cracking a smile at his cute expression.

Your husband didn't say anything else; he simply closed his eyes and shook his head. Then he shifted to give you space to sit down so he could lay his head on your thighs. The smell of your sweet body wash enveloped him, and he let out a satisfied breath, loving the comfort it always brought him. Your hands reached for the remote to turn on the TV, but Sunghoon didn't let you; he slid it further away from you.

“What are you doing?” you ask, arching an eyebrow.

“I want to talk,” Hoon says in a low voice, his tender brown eyes staring into yours intensely. You nod and smile down at him, your hand sneaking into his hair to caress the soft black strands. “There's something I haven't told you about Jiwon,” he starts, his eyes scanning your face.

“You don't have to, baby,” you respond sweetly. Sunghoon felt his heart skip a beat at the cute nickname, still not used to it.

“I know… but I want to tell you.”

“Then go ahead; I'm all ears.” You offered him another caring smile, hoping to ease the nervousness so evident on his face.

“There was something she did that finally gave me the courage to leave her.” He pauses, trying to steady his breathing. “She installed hidden cameras all over my dad’s old house. She said it was to keep an eye on me, to make sure I didn't bring anyone home or do anything to provoke her. They were everywhere except in my dad’s office and the shared bathroom. My dad was quiet the whole time she abused me, but when he found out about the cameras, he kicked both of us out of the house.”

Your mouth opens in surprise, but no words come out. A lump seems to form in your throat, making it impossible to speak. Your hands tremble as they continue to caress Sunghoon’s hair, an electric pain burning deep in your chest like wildfire.

“She had cameras in our bedroom, living room, kitchen, and bathroom. And she watched it all day like a movie on her phone.” Your eyes scan the room, avoiding Sunghoon's gaze to stop the tears from falling, frustration building with every passing second.

Just when you thought she couldn't get any worse, your husband confesses something even more unsettling.

“I found out because one day she forgot to lock her phone when she went to the bathroom. I passed by the kitchen and noticed something strange on her screen. Turns out, she was watching me work in my office.”

An uncomfortable silence fills the room; the sound of the harsh rain hitting the window with no mercy turns loud and uncanny. You want to say something, but no words seem enough to express what you're feeling. This man has been so mistreated all his life; no wonder he was cold and distant at the beginning. The tall walls he built around his heart were only to protect himself further.

With a melancholic frown, your fingers hover over his handsome face, tracing his features slowly. Your fingertips tap his delicate moles and his lush lips. You need him to understand what you feel through your actions because words would never be as intimate or precise.

With your caring touch on his face, Sunghoon closes his eyes and relaxes against you, his breathing slowly returning to normal. The rain falls mercilessly from the sky, heavy gray clouds painting the atmosphere in dark hues.

Silent tears start to stream down your cheeks, while your gaze remains fixed on the large window, watching the storm unravel before your eyes. Your knuckles turn white as you tightly grip your navy-colored pajama shirt, trying your best not to make a sound.

Sunghoon remains with a peaceful expression against your thighs. As your gaze wanders to him, you close your eyes, trying to ease the ache in your heart as his last secret echoes in your mind.

Your husband shifts lightly beneath you, drawing your attention. You open your eyes only to find him gazing up at you with twinkling eyes. His caring gaze travels across your face as if trying to understand why tears brim in your eyes. Your hands slowly reach for his head again, your fingers softly caressing his scalp.

“Why are you crying?” Sunghoon asked kindly, his deep brown eyes fixed on the warm tears that ran down your face.

As he reached out to wipe them away with his fingers, you smiled faintly and shifted your gaze to your hands.

“The way you’ve been treated by the people who were supposed to take care of you—it’s just so fucking unfair,” you murmured anxiously, unable to contain your feelings anymore. Sunghoon tilted his head slightly, caught off guard by your words. It was the first time he had heard you curse.

The two of you sat in silence for several moments, gazing into each other’s eyes as the rain outside began to ease, much like the storm in your heart. Your hand remained in your husband’s hair as his gaze lingered on you.

Sunghoon found himself lost in your gorgeous eyes, framed perfectly by long, elegant lashes. His thoughts drifted to all the times you had cared for him without his notice. He remembered the confusion he felt when you invited him to sit beside you on the sofa, telling him he didn’t have to speak—just stay.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” he confessed in a low voice, interrupting the stillness that had settled and changing the subject.

Your eyes widened, and your cheeks flushed, caught completely off guard by his words. You suppressed a laugh, glancing away as anticipation fluttered in your chest.

“Sunghoon...” you whispered breathlessly, weakened by his seductive ways.

Your hand trembled slightly as you pulled it away from his dark locks. Your eyes wandered across the large living room, avoiding his gaze. The way Sunghoon’s eyes stared into yours today felt slightly different from usual; his iris seemed darker, and it made your stomach turn in anticipation of his next move.

Sunghoon suddenly sat up and moved beside you, his broad shoulders casting a shadow over you. His dark eyes searched your face and found that your cheeks had turned red, and a timid smile grew on your lips. He loved the way you melted into him so fast.

Slowly, he reached for your face, gently tilting your chin upward. His heart pounded as your pleading gaze locked with his.

“Can I kiss you, Y/N?” Sunghoon asked, his voice soft yet firm.

You couldn't hide it anymore. You wanted him as much as he wanted you. So, with your eyes closed and you're breathing unsteady, you responded:

“Yes, please, Hoon.”

Your husband didn’t waste any more time; he had already lost too much. He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours in a much-desired kiss. Butterflies spread across your chest and stomach as you felt the soothing touch of his lips. Your hands instinctively traveled to his shoulders, your fingers curling and tugging at his hair, driving Sunghoon to the brink of madness.

Besides being an amazing cook and wife, you were also amazing at kissing. Your lips molded against his as if they were made for him. Sunghoon felt like he was losing his mind when you pulled away to catch your breath, your timid eyes meeting his as you tried to steady yourself. Your lips glistened under the faint light of the tall lamp near the couch.

Sunghoon was certain you were the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. Your sweet love won him over like a child deprived of sugar.

A sudden wave of boldness hit you. Your small, naughty hands went to rest on your husband’s legs, causing his face to quickly turn toward you. He arched his eyebrow and stared at you:

“Can you kiss me again?” you asked in a hesitant voice, craving the addictive warmth of his mouth once more.

A crack of thunder echoed through the room, filling the silence left by your words. Who was he to deny an angel with such need and love in her voice?

Once again, his right hand reached for your chin as he leaned in. Within seconds, his plump lips were on yours again. Sunghoon tilted his body toward you, wrapping a secure arm around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest so you could settle on his lap. The position wasn't new to you, but the way his grip felt desperate caused a surprised moan to escape your lips. Sunghoon seized the moment to slide his tongue into your mouth, initiating a playful yet passionate battle with yours.

Your body was no longer just warm; it was hot, melting under Sunghoon’s hungry lips and tight grip. He seemed to notice, as a sly smirk formed against your mouth while you kissed. Feeling your chest call for oxygen, you pulled away, completely out of breath.

You meticulously studied Sunghoon’s face before meeting his eyes, ensuring he was comfortable with what had just happened. He looked proud and satisfied. Eventually, the arms around your waist were gone, and he traded them for something else. His large hands held onto your waist, fingers dipping into the plush skin.

“I don't want to stop.” Sunghoon whispered against your lips, his breath fanning over your wet edges. He turned his head to the side slightly to kiss the corner of your mouth, eyes locked on yours, waiting for an answer.

“Then don't.” You responded securely, letting your head fall backward so he could access your neck freely.

Sunghoon smirked at your bold words and lowered his head to your slender neck, his lips warm as they came into contact with the skin. Goosebumps appeared on your flesh as he smoothed it, the feeling of need growing unbearably inside you, making your core throb. Your breathing became heavy, your chest rising and falling rapidly as he started to nibble at your skin, leaving faint bite marks with his attractive fangs.

Then you felt his hands disappear inside your baggy shirt. His curious fingers meet your lower back, and then he slides his hands upwards, feeling your smooth skin. He expected to feel a barrier where your bra should be, but he was only met with flesh. You bite your lip when you feel the tips of his fingers sneak a light touch just below the curve of your breast, testingly.

“You're not wearing anything underneath...” Sunghoon whispers more to himself in disbelief. He lifts his head from your neck just to take a look at your face. You slowly open your eyes and find his dark brown iris staring into your soul.

Your lips smirk at him, and then your hand finds his. Under your shirt, you guide them towards your breast and leave them there. Your heart is beating so fast you are sure Sunghoon could feel it. Completely drunk in love and aroused, he chases after your lips again, needing to feel your moan against his lips.

Sunghoon’s hand expertly massages your breasts as his mouth distracts you with an intense, hungry kiss, teeth occasionally grazing, but it doesn't matter. Your shirt rises as his eager hands sneak inside your shirt further, fingers expertly pulling at your sensitive nipples. Unable to focus on his lips, you pull away, letting your edges part as low moans escape.

“Let's go to my bedroom.” You whisper out of breath, opening your eyes to look at Sunghoon, but he just pulls his shirt over his head and smiles.

“But I want to do it… here.” He smirks, now reaching for your shirt to take it off too. As the cloth is thrown away from sight, Sunghoon slowly lays you flat against the couch cushions.

You opened your mouth to articulate something back, like how he needed to be careful to not stain the sofa, but your words were stolen from your mouth when you felt your husband’s burning lips wrap around your abused nipples. Unlike his usual clean and collected self, Sunghoon wasn't afraid to be dirty; saliva dripped from his mouth as he messily sucked your skin, his own moans being muffed by your breasts.

As he shifts the other boob, your back arches, and a loud moan of his name leaves your lips, your hips gaining a life of their own and starting to grind against his. The feeling of the evident tent in his pants makes you wetter, your impatience growing from frustration.

Sunghoon’s head leaves your chest for a few seconds so he can stare into your fucked-out face, all flushed and warm. You look so pretty and so needy for him. With his eyes still fixated on yours, his mouth slowly lowers into your flesh, smooching your lower stomach with open kisses, just above where you needed him the most.

The morning after feels like a dream—hazy and cozy. You wake up to the soft clarity filling the room, the sunlight streaming through the window, and wrapping your safe space in warmth. You yawn lazily and push yourself up on your elbows, your eyes lingering on Sunghoon as he sleeps.

His face is peaceful, his lips slightly pouted, and his chest rises and falls with each steady breath. With a content sigh, you rest your head back on the pillow, memories of the night before playing behind your eyes like scenes from a romantic movie.

Sunghoon had a strong grip on your body, possessive even, contradicting his eyes that were full of peaceful passion. His fingers dipped into your skin so harshly that you had marks from his nails on your waist and thighs. If you closed your eyes, you could still hear his needy moans, so desperate and hungry for you. For a reserved man, he sure wasn't as reserved when it came to pleasure. You would never guess he was this dirty, this starved, and eager. The way he licked his fingers after making you cum on them made your head spin.

“Good morning, princess,” Sunghoon says unexpectedly, his tender eyes searching for yours, interrupting your impure thoughts.

“Good morning, Hoon. Did you sleep well?” you ask with a smile, turning to your side to glance at him.

“Of course I did; I was with you,” he says with a smirk on his lips.

You giggle at his flirtation and let your body be pulled against his, craving the warmth of his skin. Sunghoon grins and kisses your scalp, his arms holding you tightly against him. Your head rests on his chest, listening to the calm rhythm of his heartbeat. A comfortable silence fills the space, and you slowly begin to doze off in his embrace, the safety it brings making you feel sleepy.

But a sudden ringing jolts you awake. You glance up at your husband, but he doesn’t move an inch.

“I’m not going to answer that,” Sunghoon assures you, eyes still closed. You smile at his words, but an unsettling feeling stirs inside you.

“Maybe you should,” you reply, your heart suddenly racing from the discomfort.

Hoon notices the shift in your mood and gives you a worried look.

He slowly sits up on the mattress, reaching for his noisy phone. You follow his movements and sit up, adjusting yourself comfortably. His shirt rises as you settle, and his cologne lingers, still present despite last night’s activities.

You watch his face turn pale as he reads the caller ID. When you lean in to check for yourself, a knot forms in your throat, your skin prickling with rage.

“Yes, Jiwon, what’s wrong?” Sunghoon asks, his voice uneasy as he picks up the phone. “What? Now?” He pulls the phone away from his ear for a few seconds, staring at the screen. “Sure… I just woke up. Yeah. Give me ten minutes.” And with that, he hangs up.

You watch his face meticulously, waiting for an explanation, but Sunghoon remains silent. His eyes are wide in shock, not quite believing what’s happening.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, concerned.

“She’s here,” he says, his gaze shifting to yours. “And she said she brought lunch to eat with us…”

“What?”

“Yeah, I don’t understand either. But she’s already at the door.”

The warmth in your room suddenly feels suffocating, causing your chest to feel heavy. This whole situation is bizarre, and it leaves you with an uneasy feeling. Without another word, Sunghoon gets up from the messy bed, gathers his scattered clothes from the floor, and kisses your lips briefly.

“I’ll meet you downstairs. Take the time you need,” he says tenderly, his hand cupping your jaw.

You nod and wait for him to leave the room before letting out a long breath that’s been trapped inside your chest. You don’t know what she wants or why she’s here, but it doesn’t feel right. From everything you know about her, it’s clear she’s not looking for friendship or forgiveness.

You take your time getting dressed, your mind spinning with different scenarios of what she might want from you.

With a deep inhale, you close the wooden door behind you and slowly walk down the spiral staircase, your footsteps echoing in the enormous house. As you approach the bottom of the stairs, you can already see her—a fake smile plastered on her plastic face as she sets the plates down on the table. Not knowing what to do or say, your eyes search for Sunghoon, hoping he can help.

“Jiwon, this is YN, my wife. I don’t think you’ve officially met,” he introduces you, wrapping an arm around your waist possessively.

“It’s so good to finally meet you!” Jiwon says in an overly dramatic voice, making your skin tense up.

But you don’t respond. Instead, you stroll to the fridge, grab a water bottle, and place it on the table. She watches your every move, her gaze tracking your body. Sunghoon finishes opening all the food she brought and sits down at the table, his arms tense from the uncomfortable situation.

You walk around the table to sit in front of Sunghoon, just like you always do, but Jiwon suddenly pulls the chair toward her and sits down.

“This is my seat,” she says with a vile smirk, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she locks eyes with you.

Despite the anger boiling inside you, you smile at her and take a deep breath, sitting next to Sunghoon instead. Your husband watches the entire exchange, his gaze fixed on you. He’s trying very hard to be nice to Jiwon, but if she continues disrespecting you, he won’t just stand by and watch.

Sunghoon reaches for your hand under the table, trying to ease the tension in both of you. Your eyes meet, and he gives you a small smile.

“So, how are you, hubby? I haven’t talked to you in months,” Jiwon queries, popping a piece of gimbap into her mouth. Her perfectly manicured nails reflected the warm sunlight streaming through the window.

“I’m great,” he replies simply, bringing a spoonful of rice to his mouth.

“Tell me more! How’s it living in a fake marriage?” Jiwon says intently, her eyes locked on yours, another plastic grin spreading across her face.

“It’s been great. YN’s a great wife. She cooks well, fucks well…” Sunghoon responds bitterly, trying to provoke her. But all that appears on her face is another fake grin.

Jiwon opens her mouth to say something but seems to hesitate, as if searching for the right words. She reaches for the water bottle and pours herself a glass, taking her time as if she were in her own home. You turn your head to the side and take a deep breath. You’re not sure how long you can stand having her in your house, acting like she owns it.

The sun shines brightly outside, casting light on the massive windows and making the house feel airy and dreamlike. As your gaze drifts around the kitchen, you wish this was all just a bad dream.

“How’s Sunghoon’s mom, YN?” Jiwon asks out of nowhere, her lips pouting as she twirls the water inside her cup.

“How would I know?” you ask, confused, not understanding where she’s going with this.

“Oh, I just thought you’d know, since you were with her a few weeks ago.”

Sunghoon turns to you when he hears her words, a confused expression crossing his face. You feel your cheeks flush under his gaze, your body betraying you.

“I—”

“Don’t try to deny it, pretty. Tell Sunghoon how close you are to his mom. He deserves to know,” Jiwon spits out, a mocking tone in her voice.

Your eyes return to Sunghoon, and you watch him slowly set down his chopsticks. His eyes are almost closed, his brows furrowed as he gives you a fierce look. Your hands start to sweat as you realize you’ve been caught.

Your eyes shift to Sunghoon, and you watch as he slowly sets down his chopsticks. His eyes are almost closed, his brows furrowed, shooting you a fierce look. Your hands start to sweat as you realize you've been discovered.

“Sunghoon, I meant to tell you this under different circumstances…” you start, your hands nervously fidgeting as you speak. “I’ve known your mother since I was a child.”

“What?”

“Remember when I told you I was alone when Ni-ki died? Well… I wasn’t exactly alone… Your mom was there with me; she was the one who stayed by my side…”

Sunghoon opens his mouth, but quickly closes it. His eyes dart to Jiwon, looking for any sign that you’re lying.

“Tell him why you were chosen to marry him,” Jiwon adds, her eyes locked with Sunghoon, trying to convince him that you’re serious.

“Sunghoon, let me explain—”

You begin, but he quickly interrupts you, anxiety taking control of his body.

“What is she talking about, YN?” Sunghoon asks, his voice faltering. His heart begins to race as you remain silent, confirming whatever point Jiwon was trying to make.

You take a deep breath and begin speaking.

“Your mom was best friends with mine when I was younger. When my mom was hurtful to me, your mom took care of me. When Ni-ki died, she was the only shoulder I had to cry on. She helped me through the grief, and when she found out about Ni-ki’s debt, you were freshly out of the relationship with Jiwon. To make sure you would still get the company, she asked me to marry you.”

You watch as tears start to form in Sunghoon’s eyes while you explain yourself, his beautiful brown eyes turning glassy right in front of you. Inside, he feels betrayed. How could you hide this from him? After everything he’s told you, after everything you’ve been through together?

Your hands reach out for his, but your husband pulls away, not wanting to touch you.

“Sunghoon, please…” you plead, your chest burning as you watch him turn his face, avoiding you.

Just when you think it can’t get worse, Jiwon smiles devilishly and speaks again, proving she has more than one card up her sleeve.

“Oh, while we’re at it! How’s your blonde stylist friend doing? Tell him his father isn’t as good as he used to be, and that I caught him stalking me.”

Your face turns pale, your hands go cold with sweat, and you close your eyes. This can’t be happening, you tell yourself. Sunghoon turns to face you again, his face as pale as yours.

“What—what are you talking about?” he asks Jiwon, eyes fixed on you.

“She made her father’s friend follow me because she was so, so, so curious about me!” she adds, her voice dripping with mockery, a smirk creeping back onto her lips.

“Wait, no. That’s not why I did it!” you say, irritated, standing up and pushing your chair back with force. You point a finger at her face as you look at Sunghoon, trying to explain yourself.

“No, I wanted to find out who was giving you all those drugs. So a friend of mine asked his dad to follow her and find out if it was her. And it was!” Your eyes harden as you speak. “She wasn’t just giving you sleeping pills, Sunghoon. They were real drugs. She has a friend who sells them to her.”

Sunghoon feels like his head is going to explode; this is too much information at once. He stands up and gently pulls your hand away from her face, then sits back down, narrowing his eyes.

“Let me see if I understand… You had someone following her?” your husband questions, then turns his face to Jiwon. “And you were giving me drugs this whole time?”

The hot air inside the kitchen feels like poison, and every breath he takes burns his lungs. So, you’ve been lying to him and following his ex, treating him like some kind of puppet you were playing with. And Jiwon, in addition to abusing him, gave him drugs?

Sunghoon wanted to be angry at Jiwon and shout at her, but he knew it would be in vain. She wasn't going to change or stop being an awful person. He also wanted to ignore everything he’d just discovered about what you did, but he felt backstabbed. As he gazes into your apologetic eyes, he can see that you’re genuinely sorry and that you never meant to hurt him. But he couldn’t help but feel ill; his heart was shattering with each passing second.

“I’m sorry I never told you any of this, but I was afraid it would scare you away.” You try to explain, tiny tears falling down your warm cheeks and dripping onto your legs, staining the denim of your pants.

Before Sunghoon could say anything, Jiwon spoke again, revealing her third card. She was practically glowing with joy that her plan was unfolding just as she’d intended.

“Aw, this is cute and all, but Sunghoon has something to tell you too!” Jiwon mocks from the other side of the table.

She stands up and circles the table, her high heels clicking mercilessly against the floor. Then she stands right by Sunghoon’s side. Jiwon takes a quick glance at Sunghoon and then smiles at you, raising her eyebrows to show you that she’s been planning this all along. You don’t even know how she found out about all of this, but you hate that she’s right.

“Come on, hubby. Tell her the truth about your marriage contract.”

You tilt your head in confusion, your hand reaching up to wipe the tears from your cheeks. Your eyes find your husband’s face, and you notice his cheeks and ears have turned dark red. You desperately try to make eye contact, but he avoids you.

A discomfiting feeling starts to spread through your body, and your breath quickens in the heavy silence.

“YN, there’s something I need to tell you—” Sunghoon starts, his voice hesitant.

“Ah, shit, you're so fucking slow!” Jiwon interrupts. “What this idiot is trying to say is that in that contract you signed, there were small letters stating that as soon as his dad passes away, he’s divorcing you and not leaving a single penny.”

Tears form in your eyes again, blurring your vision. You try to get up from your seat, but your legs feel like jelly, and you fall back into the chair. Your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest, and a burning sensation rises in your throat.

“Hoon,” you call with a shaky voice.

No, that can't be true. Sunghoon would never do that to you.

The silence that settles in the sun-filled kitchen proves to you how real it all really is. Your husband turns his head away and rubs his eyes, avoiding you. You don’t know what to say or do anymore. The harsh truth leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

Slowly, you get up from your chair and walk out of the kitchen; your footsteps were the only sound echoing through the large house. But before you reach the stairs, you turn around to face Jiwon, who’s right behind you. You step toward her, your eyes locked into hers, your blood boiling under your skin.

“I hope you're happy. You’ve finally done what you wanted. He’s all yours.” Your words echo through the house, your voice stern yet quiet. Jiwon only laughs in your face, her unnatural grin making you want to puke.

“Wait, YN, let me explain—” Sunghoon finally snaps out of his trance and walks toward you. He reaches out for you, but this time you’re the one who pulls away.

“I can't talk to you right now,” you say in a low voice, tears welling in your eyes as you look at Sunghoon. “Not while she’s here.”

Those were your last words before you went upstairs to your bedroom, leaving behind Sunghoon and that evil woman who could never seem to leave him. Deep down, you wanted to go back and kiss Sunghoon in front of her, show her he’s no longer hers, but you couldn’t even look at him anymore—not after what you’d just uncovered.

Back in the kitchen, Sunghoon stands still and quiet, trying to figure out what to do with Jiwon. His head is a mess, and though he wants to run after you, he knows he has to deal with Jiwon first. She’s sitting at the table, comfortably eating the dessert she brought. As he watches her eat, he decides to finally put an end to all of this.

“Get out of my house and take that disgusting food with you,” Sunghoon says harshly, shoving all the leftover food into a plastic bag, not caring if it spills out of the containers.

“Sunghoon, hubby, she’s not good for you. She lied.” Jiwon spits out, irritated.

“Don’t call me that ever again!” he warns, pointing a finger at her. “I’m going to tell the police about what you did to me—all the domestic abuse, the cameras, the drugs. Since YN has proof of the drugs, at least I can get you thrown in jail.”

Sunghoon looks different in Jiwon’s eyes; he’s now confident and secure in himself, and she hates it. She liked him quiet and obedient, like a stupid puppy.

“But Sunghoon, she—”

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!” he yells, the hairs on his arms standing up as anger spreads across his body. He can’t stand Jiwon anymore.

He should have known she wasn’t coming here to apologize, unlike what he’d hoped for.

Jiwon grabs the plastic bag and her designer bag quickly, slightly fearful of Sunghoon’s newfound confidence. He doesn’t even spare a glance at her as she leaves, knowing full well that if he did, he would break down in tears. After all, he was still the same hurt man from all those years ago.

Jiwon leaves the house feeling proud of herself, despite Sunghoon not taking her back like she intended to; at least she ruined whatever the two of you had going on. And that was all that mattered to her.

A few minutes pass before Sunghoon finally regains his strength. This chaotic moment has drained all the energy from him. Slowly, he walks upstairs, the heavy atmosphere in the house pulling him back, making it harder to reach your bedroom door.

When he finally reaches it, his hand prepares to knock, but he realizes it’s already open. He steps inside quietly, gently pushing the door open as he enters. The scene in front of him makes him question if he’s seeing things. You’re packing your clothes into travel bags, your quiet sobs echoing in the chilly bedroom.

“Wait, princess, please—” Sunghoon begs as he steps closer to you. His hand reaches for your wrist, trying to stop you from packing.

“Sunghoon, we were never good to each other. We could never be. This—” you gesture. “This is all fake. This marriage isn’t real. None of it is real.”

“No. We are real; what I feel for you is real.” Sunghoon insists, pushing your bags away and forcing you to look at him. “I made that rule back then because I hated you. But I love you now. I want to be with you. Please don’t leave.”

You can’t stop the tears that roll down your cheeks, his voice full of pain shooting through your heart.

“You never told me about that. If we never got along, you would have just left me. Like I’m a toy you don’t need anymore.” You express between sobs, your head starting to throb with a heavy headache.

“That would never happen because I love you. I’ve changed the contract, okay? I changed it weeks ago, even before we went out before we even got involved physically.” Sunghoon explains, reaching for his phone, which was forgotten in his back pocket.

He taps on the screen a few times and shows you a new document. Your eyes scan it briefly, and you realize he’s telling the truth. But it doesn’t feel enough.

“I lied to you, Sunghoon.” You remind him, turning your head to the side to take a deep breath and calm your racing heart.

“I don’t care.” He responds immediately after you finish speaking. “It’s not that big of a deal. I’ve thought about it. It would have been way worse if my mom hadn’t chosen you. She chose you for a reason, YN.” Sunghoon explains as his hands reach for your jaw, turning your head so you can face him.

“She chose me because I had a debt to pay, Sunghoon.” You respond coldly, stepping away from him to resume packing your bags.

“I forgive you; please don’t go,” Sunghoon begs as salty tears start falling from his coffee-colored eyes.

He kneels on the floor and wraps his arms around your legs, trying to stop you from leaving. Your hand covers your mouth to hide a sob, the act further breaking your heart. You gradually kneel in front of him, taking his hot face in your cold hands.

“I need space… I need to think about all of this. I need to think about what I feel.” You explain slowly, gazing into your husband’s melancholic eyes. “And it needs to be away from you.”

Sunghoon’s warm tears run under your fingers, wetting your hand along with his cheeks. As your own tears glide down your face, you try to show him a faint smile. Your soul feels like it’s being squeezed out of its life—a physical pain that burns in your chest. You place a long kiss on his salty lips, then stand up, grab your things, and walk out of the room.

Weeks have passed since you last saw Sunghoon. You sit alone in your small kitchen, the little apartment you found feeling crowded and suffocating. You stare down at the steamy bowl of soup on the table, unable to take a single spoonful. The room feels dark as heavy clouds hide the faint sunlight outside, and you find it funny how similar it is to what you’re feeling.

You regret walking away that day, now that your mind is clear. You wish you had thought more about it and not left Sunghoon behind so casually. But you're not perfect, and life hasn’t been easy for you either. So when you found out about the contract and when she told Sunghoon about what you did, you felt a mix of shame and betrayal.

You’ve always found it easier to leave than to talk things out.

The days pass by tediously slowly as you stare at your phone, hoping he will text you. You don’t even care if it’s just to curse you out; you just need him to be stronger than you for once. Without realizing, your eyes become glossy, your heart aching in your chest, missing Sunghoon’s safe embrace.

But it’s too late now.

You force your tired body up from the table and walk to the window in your small living room, admiring the rain that has started to fall. Your tired eyes carefully watch the water droplets paint the road, bringing you some comfort.

That’s when you notice a familiar face running toward your building, using a bouquet to try to shield himself from the rain. As the man gets closer, you realize who it is, and your heart jumps at the sight of him. How did he find you?

That was the sign you asked for. Without thinking twice, you sprint across your apartment and close the door behind you. Your legs feel like jelly as you step toward the hall of the building, tears already welling in your eyes from the memories of his familiar scent.

When you reach the outside, he is standing in the middle of the deserted road, confused. Sunghoon thought it was a mirage; maybe his head was playing tricks on him, but as soon as you wrap your arms around him, he knows it’s real.

The rain falls harder now, the drops heavy and cold, but you couldn’t care less. Sunghoon lets go of the bouquet to wrap his arms around your waist, his head nuzzling against your hair, your sweet perfume filling his senses.

He could die right now, happy in your arms.

“I couldn’t bear it anymore,” Sunghoon breaks the silence, squeezing you tightly as if you were going to dissolve in the rain.

“I’m sorry, Sunghoon. I’m so sorry.” You cry out, your knees almost giving way as you finally look at your husband’s face.

Guilt hits you like a truck, robbing you of your breath when you notice the dark bags under his precious eyes, his face visibly slimmer and paler.

The truth is, he has barely slept these weeks, missing your warmth against him at night. He regrets trusting Jiwon that day and not telling her to leave them alone instead. Sunghoon also regrets how easily he let you go. He should have pulled you into his arms and assured you that everything was going to be alright. But in the end, he’s human, just like you, and the thought of pressuring you into staying wasn’t the most appealing.

“I love you. I’m so sorry.” You insist, tears falling freely from your eyes.

You're thankful it’s raining, so he doesn’t realize how much you’re crying. Your hands reach for his face, cupping his jaw. You can’t believe he found you. He came after you, despite you breaking his heart.

“I love you,” Sunghoon says with a sad smile, his eyes hypnotized by yours. “I’m here, and I won’t let you go anywhere ever again.”

You smile as you rest your forehead against his, the rain soaking you both completely. “I love you too, Sunghoon. I won’t ever leave again. I promise.” You whisper against his quivering lips.

Sunghoon wastes no more time and chases after your lips, needing to feel them against his. Your lips are warm despite the cold water droplets, and Sunghoon giggles when he feels them. All of his worries fade away. The kiss is long and passionate, his velvety lips molding with yours slowly, savoring your taste that he missed terribly.

Under the freezing rain, Sunghoon is sure that all he ever needs in his life is to have you by his side, to feel your sweet love. He doesn't need the money, the company, or even food to eat. You’re all he wishes for, and he won’t ever let you leave again, no matter what happens.

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[lamb-teaa]

` Doppelgänger Curse

( Experimental Draft Part 1 )

Your life has been fairly normal.

Average parents, average friends, average job - plain yet calm and simple life.

But who would've thought it all came crashing down on you one day when you met her.

A non-Evolver like yourself had always placed your trust and faith in the Hunters of the city, especially during an unexpected Wanderer attack. But the moment your eyes met hers as she pulled you behind her as a shield, the world around you shifted in an instant.

You would've merely chalked it up to coincidence, a similar look-alike, a stranger with an identical face...

.. If it weren't for the fact that the moment she took your hand, rushing both of you out of the building, a strong jolt of electricity shot through your brain, flooding with foreign yet familiar memories in an instant.

Love and Deepspace. Evol. Aether Core.

The sharp pain had you gasping for air as you held your head tightly, you could hear the Hunter's worrying voice as she crouched in front of you, her words faded in the background as you slowly and shakily lifted up your head to look at her.

Then your eyes caught sight of a familiar man behind her.

Love Interest.

Your life has never been the same since then.

She was as stunned as you, but more so she looked quite delighted to see you and began rambling on about how identical you looked to her - whereas you still grappled with the memories of your past life while simultaneously struggling not to go into a panic attack whenever you saw her.

× × × × ×

What would've been thought of as a fateful yet short encounter turned into an unnerving coincidence as you find yourself bumping into Miss Hunter more often than not.

You couldn't really avoid her, didn't have the heart to honestly, given she had quite literally saved your life and unexpectedly she took a fondness for you. A fondness akin to a long lost family - even though you and her both knew that neither of you had any blood relation.

But she was so fond of you, so much so it ended up getting the unwanted attention of a certain man.

Miss Hunter's chosen love interest.

...Or rather, your previous life's chosen love interest.

Although living your new reality up until now, you don't actually know Miss Hunter and her beloved's actual relationship status after meeting her.

Even as she began hanging out in your life more, she never uttered much about him and you weren't the type to pry.

But you weren't blind to the affection he showed around her, from the impromptu gestures to the warmest of smiles he looked at her - you could tell how much he loved her.

If you were back in your previous life, holding onto your phone as you read the sweet interactions between him and her, undoubtedly you'd feel envious and begin punching your pillow and whining along the line of 'why can't it be meeee!'

But now, seeing him real and tangible and terrifyingly surreal, you could only hope he remained his focus on her and not you.

Why?

You liked him in a fictional form rather than in a reality's sense - which is most likely why you had a difficult time liking real men back in your old life.

Because fiction wouldn't harm you.

But this new reality would.

Especially when you knew everything about him.

× × × × ×

Your interactions with him so far are, you'd say, admirably respectable to say the least.

Although you were initially worried in the beginning when Miss Hunter wasn't around or unfortunately had to leave you and him behind when she had to rush for her mission or other matters, you were relieved that he didn't spare much attention on you.

On the contrary, he had expressed his gratitude because Miss Hunter had been livelier since befriending you. You likewise reciprocate the mutual friendship, from both her and him.

However it's still unfortunate when on some accidental occasions, he'd mistake you for her.

"I got you the new plushie you've always wanted."

"...I don't collect plushies."

"That's strange, I thought you'd be out on a mission today."

"...I'm not a Hunter."

"I heard the escape room increased their difficulty levels. Want to try it again?"

"...When have I ever been one?"

"Didn't you have an appointment today? I remember someone keeps forgetting her regular checkups."

"...I don't have Protocore Syndrome."

"Where are you going? That's the wrong direction."

"...This is the direction to my house."

The immediate freeze-up followed by an averting guilt-ridden gaze and a small apology, you couldn't even be mad at him even if you wanted to.

But you can't help but feel annoyed and frustrated.

It's one thing to share an identical face to her, but it's another to have a similar voice and even certain habits and slight mannerisms to her and you can't help but wonder, could it be your fault?

You definitely did customize her, who's supposed to be the player's avatar, to appear identical to you and you wryly thought perhaps it ended up manifesting in this new life of yours. And the only difference you can take a slight solace is that you both didn't have the same name.

… Because you gave your nickname to her in-game instead.

But still, to this extent it is just damn ridiculous

Slowly and surely, you retract yourself from him as much as possible. Even when she asked you out for another hangout together, you'd make sure it's a girl's girls only hangout because you have had enough of being mistaken for her by him.

In your mind, it's for his own sake.

And your sanity's sake as well.

× × × × ×

You remembered playing Love and Deepspace and held deep sympathy towards the MC. To die and reincarnate with no memories and her beloved either died or disappeared because of her.

An endless cycle.

A pitiful ending.

A cruel twist of fate.

Perhaps it was a blessing for her to not remember any of her past lives because you apparently had all the knowledge and memories against your own will, having to carry another person's secret on your own.

A placeholder of her memories.

And for what reason?

You would never know.. But it's cruel, to both her and you.

In your last life you would've joked about Infold being the catalyst of evil to her life and perhaps by some dark magic they possess, to your life too.

But you can't even crack a smile nor laugh anymore. This new life, new reality of yours, is far the cruelest in your entire memory.

A cruel confusing reality that had left you trembling when the dreadful news reached your ears.

'She's gone'

Your Hunter twin, your dear friend, your mirror sister - your doppelgänger other half, had succumbed to a fatal injury during a search and rescue mission.

Leaving the once joyous life she once brought to everyone around her.

Leaving her beloved who ended up spiralling into a heartbreaking rage.

…Leaving you to face the aftermath of her death.

× × × × ×

You remembered how shocked everyone around you was when you brought Miss Hunter into your life all those years ago.

As much as you didn't want to be involved with her, but that one dinner invitation as a token of gratitude for saving you had changed your life forever.

Your parents' astonishment immediately turned heartwarming as even they treated Miss Hunter like their own daughter. You were their only child and given how you knew she was an orphan, you actually didn't mind that your parents treated her as their own - and naturally you did see her as a sister figure. Although the talks about you both being the twins they would've envisioned to have, honestly made you feel torn between wishing she was your real twin sister vs the confusing anxiety rising in the pit of your stomach when you recalled how her life was like.

Your friends and coworkers had their own mixed reactions. Some were appalled and in complete disbelief while some were more dramatic and exaggerating that most of them always commented how they couldn't tell you and her apart. And the fact your parents actually entertained the idea of taking a DNA test between you and her once before only to come back not a match, one of your friends even joked about being doppelgängers and how you two should duke it out according to old folklores. You allowed yourself to indulge in their playful notion with a smack on their heads, despite struggling to push down the uneasiness you felt at being so similar and so identical to her.

And then… then there was him…

You remembered the intense stare and the unsettling silence, like he was analyzing you - reading you. Although it was a mere fleeting gaze before he shifted his attention back to her, you could still feel his eyes boring holes into your back when you weren't looking.

You were relieved, so so relieved when he kept his sole attention on her, even when the three of you hung out together. Even when in the beginning you could tell he felt wary around you as well, but seeing how much Miss Hunter enjoyed your company, he too began easing up a bit.

And that's when the confusion began.

The many times he mistook you for her, the many times he called out her name instead of yours, the many times he unconsciously gravitated closer to you when she wasn't around - it was stressful and aggravating to have to endure.

You thought you could still brush it off, pretend to be oblivious about it and evidently so it wouldn't effect you as long as she was still around to ground him back to reality.

But now she's gone.

And that's.. that's when the nightmare started.

teaa’s end note: this ficlet can be seen as in any of the Love Interest, basically a 5-in-1 scenario between reader and the LIs so hopefully it's not too confusing!

additional note: kinda on the fence on continue writing this but at the same time i needed to let this out so do tell if i should continue with it. thank you for reading and hope you'll have a lovely lovely day!

[honeyhotteoks]

₊ ⊹ ⟡ together; alternate version (정윤호 ♡ j.yh)

yunho's been away for tour, only this time, when he comes home you have very different news to share.

style: bullet drabble (alternative sequel to losing time) pairing: non idol!yunho x fem!reader word count: 2.5k tags/warnings: fluff, light angst, all things pregnancy and babies, light smut with breeding kink/preg kink (yunho is v happy she's pregnant essentially lmao) notes: this was fully inspired by an anon in my inbox who asked what would have happened in my short fic together if the news reader had to share was a pregnancy and how would yunho react to that. i don't take fic requests, but i love babyfic and this just turned into a little bullet and drabble fic i thought i would share with everyone.

[masterlist]

at the end of losing time, yunho leaves for tour and it’s a long one. a full two, two and a half months abroad in europe while you’re left at home in a different time zone missing him terribly. 

you find out the truth while he’s away, only a few weeks into tour when you start getting sick. it’s not something you can just spring on him while he’s on tour, it would distract him, it would stress him out, and frankly you just don’t know what to do. what decision to make. 

you know how you feel about yunho, and you knows how he feels about you….  but this type of news always changes everything. 

so you keep it to yourself, and you do your best to make it through. 

only when yunho does return.... you’re showing. it's not a lot, just the beginning stages of a curve at three months, but it's starting to be apparent if you’re wearing fitted clothing and it's not something you would be able to keep from him if he touched you. 

so when he comes home, finally, and texts you, asking if he can send a car to bring you to the studio, you want to say yes so badly but you can’t. 

this isn't a conversation you can have in front of anyone else so you say no. and you’re honestly terrified, so you lie, just a little white lie. you tell him you can't come and that you’re not feeling well, you’ll see him another day soon.

anxiety is fully eating you up and you’re spiraling, and you don’t know it but your texts fully freaked yunho out. he's convinced that you’re going to break up with him and waited until after tour to do it, and he's sick about it.

after dance practice, he sneaks out and comes to your place.

all of a sudden hes there, he’s knocking on your door. 

you thought you had more time, you still don’t know how to tell him, what to say- but he’s there 

and -

You're a mess. Your hair is tangled from running your fingers through it again and again, and you're pretty sure this sweatshirt has a coffee stain on it, but he's here and no matter what you have to face this.

He knocks again, a soft rap on the door, "y/n, please let me in,"

"Just a second," You call back, knotting your hair back into a bun and kicking on your slippers. Your stomach rolls with nervousness, but at least, you think, it's not morning sickness.

When you finally pull open the door your hands are trembling, and Yunho's pained expression doesn't help.

"Hey," You manage.

"Hi," His eyes dart over you, a crease of concern between his brows, "can I come in?"

You move to let him in immediately, stepping back into the apartment, "Sorry, of course,"

When you shut the door tight and flip the lock, silence fills the space, but somewhere within you, you find the strength to turn around and look up at him.

He shifts from foot to foot, clearly off balance at the strange discomfort between you, and finally he sighs, "Whatever it is," he says, "I know we can work it out."

A strike of panic lances up your spine at the thought he might already know what words are sitting like lead on your tongue, but all you can manage is a soft, "What?"

"You're avoiding me," His hands flex and release, "we haven't seen each other in months, and now I'm here, and you haven't even smiled. I don't think you're sick, I think something's wrong."

"Yunho," Your voice cracks, and you can feel tears threatening your eyes already. You wanted to hold it together, but this is already too hard.

He swallows tightly and keeps talking, his own voice laced with nerves, "I know two months was a long time, and I know I haven't been the best boyfriend, I should have called more, made more time for us, but, y/n," he takes a tentative step towards you, "I love you, and I really don't want to give up on us, please, don't,"

Things slot into place at his words and you shake your head, "Who said anything about giving up on us?"

The words hang for a moment, and then he softly exhales, "You're not breaking up with me?"

"No!" Your voice squeaks as you rush to dispel that idea, "No, oh my god, not at all,"

He grins, covering his face with his broad hands and sighing, "Jesus Christ," he sighs, "I was going out of my mind,"

"No," You shake your head again, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you like that."

He drops his hands and you can see the tension leave his tight shoulders, "Thank god," he smiles and steps towards you.

Panic bubbles back up inside you and you raise your hand to stop him, stepping back until your hips bump into the back of the couch, "Wait,"

His expression crumbles, "What's going on?"

You just have to say it.

"Um," Your stomach flips, "I do have some news."

"News," He repeats numbly.

"Yeah," You start to cross your arms over your chest but the realization that it would pull the fabric of the sweatshirt closer to you rockets through your brain and you drop your arms helplessly by your side. You have no idea how to tell him this.

"You can tell me anything," He says softly, reading your panic in a moment, "and you know, there's nothing we can't handle together."

"Yunho," Tears start to gather, making your eyes glassy, "I don't know how to tell you this,"

"I'm here,"

The panicked, terrified, anxious part of your brain scoffs, for now. You look away from him immediately, eyes glued to the floor. If this is how you lose him, then you guess it just wasn’t meant to be.

You take a steadying breath and jump, "I have something to tell you," you knot your fingers together, "and I didn't know how to tell you while you were away. I was afraid of distracting you or trying to figure this out while you weren't, you know, here,"

"Okay," He murmurs, taking a slow step in your direction, "I'm here,"

"A week after you left," You press your eyes closed tight, tears tracking down your cheeks, "I missed my period,"

He's silent. Your stomach churns again, but you keep going, "For a little bit I just thought it was stress, or something funny, I'm not always on schedule, but, then I started getting sick," With your eyes closed and with him so quiet, you can almost pretend you're practicing this speech, one of the many times you talked it through in the shower, lying in bed, pacing laps around your apartment. "I'm so sorry," Your voice cracks, "I'm pregnant," You can't bring yourself to open your eyes. "I know I should have told you," Tears rush forward a little faster now and you take a hitched breath, "and I know you don't want this, but you deserve to know, and I... I don't, Yunho, I don't know what to do, I don't know what I'm s-supposed to do, and," Yunho steps forwards all at once, his hands cupping your cheeks and drawing your face upwards, "Hey, hey," he soothes, voice tender, "look at me," Your eyes finally open, meeting his gaze. You expect to find him terrified, any twenty-something guy with a delicate career would be, but all you find in his eyes is soft comfort. There's no trace of the idol in him, just your lover, your best friend. "It's okay," He wipes away your tears gently, "sweetheart, breathe," "Why aren't you angry?" Tears rush faster, your breath tight. He smiles, "I'm upset you didn't think you could tell me," he dips forwards and presses a kiss to your forehead, "but y/n, I love you, this isn't... baby, this could never be bad news." "W-what?" "The timing's terrible," He admits, "and I also have no idea what we're supposed to do, but I don't care. I love you, we'll figure this out." Of all the reactions you expected from him, this hadn't even crossed your mind. When he leans back from you a little to study your tear stained face again, he smiles, and it feels like everything about your life is about to change. Slowly, you pull his hands away from your face and take a steadying breath, "Yunho," you manage, "you're an idol, and besides, we're twenty-six, we're not even married, we're not, what the hell are we going to do with a baby," He slides his hands over yours and brings them together, lifting them so he can press his lips to the back of your knuckles, "We'll do what people do, we'll make it work." You shake your head, feeling fully unmoored, but he keeps going. "I knew you were it for me on the second date," He says and the world slows to a stop, "the only thing in the world I'm terrified of is losing you, but this? y/n, I'm in love with you. Did you think I haven't imagined what our lives would be like?" "I," You can't find the right words, but you try, "I love you," His smile widens, and he moves quickly, tugging you forwards and wrapping his arms around you properly. He's much taller, and he has to lean over you, but he wraps one arm smoothly around your lower back and your hands settle on his shoulders. He pulls you up in one smooth motion, his free hand slipping under your thighs as you wrap them around his waist to hold you tight against him. He kisses your lips, tender relief in every press of his mouth on yours and he nuzzles your nose with his, "I missed you," he breathes. "I missed you too," You confess, your body finally relaxing and melting into him, weeks and weeks of tension bleeding out of your body, "so much," He hugs you close, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you bury your face into his neck, and then he freezes, "Oh my god," his hand slides over your back, landing on your waist, "you really are pregnant," You know he can feel it, the change in your body when you're pressed flush against him like this, and you nod into his neck. "H-how," His hand pushes under your sweatshirt, searching your skin, "baby, how far?" "Fourteen weeks," He sucks in a breath, dropping you gingerly back to your feet, "I can't believe you didn't tell me," For a split second you think you're finally getting the anger you anticipated, but the giddy expression on his face says otherwise.

"I've missed so much," He snakes a hand under your hoodie, and lays his palm over your slightly distended belly, "I'm... god, I can't believe this," "You're not upset?" You check softly. "No," He shakes his head, and then he tugs gently at your sweatshirt, "No, but, can you take this off, can I see?" You're nervous again, but his easy energy wraps around you like a safety blanket and you nod, swallowing back any fears and pulling off the sweatshirt, leaving you in nothing but your sweat pants, and a tight tank top. His eyes zero in on the bump immediately, and the sliver of skin between your sweats and the hemline of your top. Your hands rest over your belly, a nervous, protective instinct, "I know," He blinks hard, tearing his eyes away from your changing body and up to your face. "What?" You ask, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "You're really pregnant," He says, his voice a little rough, and then he reaches again until his hand slides over the smooth plane of your stomach, tracing the curve, "that's my baby," "Yeah," You breathe softly. 

Tears track down his face and he laughs, reaching for you again, up into his arms and nestled against him. 

From there?

He’s kissing you and he just can’t stop. 

You’re a mess from stress and tears, and hardly feel sexy, but he doesn’t care. He’s missed you, he loves you so much and this news is unexpected and terrifying but he’s so happy he doesn’t care

So holding you in his arms still, he takes you to bed

And you’re apologetic about the mess, your bed stand is covered with water bottles and anti-nausea medication and it hits him all at once how you’ve just been holding it together by a thread 

And he pulls you into the bed - “You’ve been sick, this hasn’t been easy, has it? I could have been there for you, I wish I had been there,” 

But you assure him that you’re mostly on the other side of it, you’re only sick like once in a while now not every second of every day 

And he’s like….. we are talking about that later, but right now how are you feeling? 

And you’re good…. but god, you missed him and now you’re just so relieved

So he begs you to let him take care of you now, he’s home, he can carry that weight if you’ll let him

And teary tender kissing in bed leaves his hands wandering, noticing how much is different, losing his mind over your bump and the new fullness of your breasts

And he’s hard and you’re touch starved 

And then he’s just losing it a little - kissing your body, telling you how much he loves every inch of you, how insane it makes him that he did this to you, how you made something together

And all the tenderness to dirty talk sends your brain into overdrive. 

It’s all just desperate needy, thank god we didn’t break up i can’t believe i got you pregnant sex

Worshipping oral, lots of body kissing and feral groaning from Yunho

His absolute insanity at being inside you like this - and you’re tighter, wetter, and needier than ever, and he’s just feral for it

“You’ll be the prettiest mommy, won’t you?” 

Just heaps of breeding and preg dirty talk

“God, I hope you want a lot of kids,” 

“You look so good like this, I’ll have to knock you up again,” 

“So pretty with my baby inside you,” 

And when you’re done, you fall asleep instantly. you’ve been sleeping so much more all of a sudden, and you suppose your body needs it, but it feels like you’re finally resting for the first time in weeks

When you wake, your apartment is clean, he got take out (but he’s googling best soups for morning sickness and texting Wooyoung cooking questions), and he’s making a list of everything you’ll need. He’s already making a plan of what you’re going to do. 

So even though the tour was terrifying, he’s home, he’s got you. You’re together on this, always.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

The Opening Act

Pop-Up Prompt: Valentine's Day/Love | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: M | CW: Over the Clothes Sexual Acts | Tags: Valentine's Day, Roommates, First Kiss, Confessions, Getting Together, Resolved Mutual Pining, Steve Harrington Will Jump in With Both Feet

The grocery store selection is lacking, at best. Steve waited too long. Dragging his feet on what he should, or shouldn't, do. If anything at all. It's Eddie. Eddie, his roommate.

Eddie, who probably doesn't feel the same way Steve's been feeling. But Steve has to find out. The not knowing, the possibility, is eating him alive. Nobody's ever accused Steve of not jumping in with both feet when he feels things. He wears his heart on his sleeve, according to Robin, anyway. 

He doesn't mind. He'll wear it there, and someday someone will be happy to see it. At least he hopes so. Sometimes he feels like Eddie might be the one who finally would.

"She must be pretty special if you're taking this long to choose."

Steve turns towards the old woman standing behind him.

"Girlfriend? Or someone you hope will be?"

Steve grins, just a little quirk of his lip, "That last one."

He's not gonna make corrections, Mother Goose here can think what she wants. He likes girls. But he loves Eddie. A lot.

So much so he's not sure where to put it all. 

"If you pick something out with love, she'll know," she says, smiling.

Steve nods. 

"Thanks," he says, and she rolls away, leaving him standing there, still unsure of what would best express his love. 

"Hey! I got pizza," Eddie says from the kitchen, shirtless, but when he looks up at Steve, his expression closes off, just a little. "Oh. Right. It's Valentine's Day. I'll save you some."

Steve's confused, then realizes he's standing there with flowers. Eddie doesn't want flowers. Eddie doesn't even have an inkling that they could be for him. This was a dumb idea. Steve tosses them on the counter.

"They're for Robin. Pizza's great," Steve says, and Eddie grins, flipping the lid of the pizza box open. 

"Look at this thing. It's a heart. Like, surprise! Everybody gets bludgeoned with Valentine's Day, like it or not."

The pizza is heart-shaped. Even the pepperoni slices are cut into hearts, and he wonders who on earth the pizza place has hired with that kind of get up and go. Not him and Robin, that's for damn sure. 

Sure, they'd solve a Russian mystery on company time, but go out of their way to make things special for the customers? No fucking way.

Maybe kids are more motivated these days. 

Eddie pulls two pepperoni hearts off of it, shoving one in his own mouth, and one in Steve's. Pepperoni stolen off slices is the best tasting pepperoni, or so Eddie has loudly declared, over and over.

Steve chews his contraband pepperoni, and puts the brown paper grocery bag on the counter. Eddie immediately starts digging through it, "Oooh! Honeycombs and Miller, you do love me, Harrington."

Shit. 

He does love him. Like, obviously. 

"And a heart-shaped box of candy? You shouldn't have, Harrington," he says sarcastically, tossing it next to the abandoned flowers.

He'd like to be locked into Eddie's heart-shaped box for weeks. 

Steve blushes at the thought. He doesn't even know what that'd entail with Eddie.

But he wants it. Wants anything Eddie would be down for, honestly.

Just wants Eddie.

Steve's having a minor crisis. He can't look away from Eddie's remaining nipple like a weirdo, like he hasn't seen him shirtless nine-thousand times. And now his dick's suddenly being insistent. Eddie's paying no attention, rooting around through the groceries like a raccoon, and Steve realizes nearly every item he pulls from the bag was specifically bought for Eddie.

And it was bought with love. Mother Goose was right. Hopefully Eddie is feeling it, even if he doesn't know what he's feeling. 

That's okay. Steve can love him, can buy what he likes, just to see him happy. It should be enough. 

It's not enough.

Steve grabs Eddie by the back of the neck, and Eddie squawks. Steve presses his mouth to Eddie's, and when he slides his tongue inside, he tastes pepperoni. It's not the best first kiss. 

But the fact that Eddie's gripping his sides, pulling him closer, makes up ground.

When they break apart, Eddie's breathing heavy, eyes a little wild, but he's still looking right at Steve, like he's unwilling to let Steve back away from this.

"The flowers. They were for you. I lied."

"Sucks for Robin, then," Eddie says, and Steve laughs.

"You on board with this?" 

"Are you fucking kidding me? I've been dropping hints for two years, Harrington. It's about fucking time."

Steve laughs, leaning forward, resting his forehead against Eddie's.

"Your breath stinks," Eddie says.

"Whose fault is that? I was minty fresh when I walked in here, Pepperoni Poacher."

Eddie laughs, and Steve pulls him closer, until they're kissing again. Eddie's breath is no better, but he doesn't give a shit. He's here, they're here, and he's gonna make the goddamn best of it. 

He slides his hand down Eddie's chest, quickly moving south, and Eddie just kicks his legs further apart, an invitation if Steve's ever seen one.

Eddie's in sweatpants, Steve's sweatpants, and they aren't hiding shit.

Steve presses the heel of his hand to Eddie's dick through the fabric.

"You could buy me dinner first," Eddie teases, but contradicts his own words, by grinding up into Steve's large palm.

"I think you bought me dinner," Steve says, nodding towards the pizza, still working his hand, getting a good feel. Letting the anticipation, the desire, build. 

Determined to make Eddie come undone, right here.

Eddie's head is tilted back, panting, exposing his throat, and his hands have a death grip on the edge of the kitchen counter. It makes Steve feel wanted. 

Maybe even loved.

And this hasn't even started yet. Not really. This is just the opening act.

"I, I," Eddie starts, choking on the words, "I ordered the pizza like that! Paid an extra fiver!" Eddie blurts, and Steve laughs, leaning into him, rewarding him with a firm stroke. 

"Of course you did."

If you want to write your own, or go see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun! ❤️

[freeluigihesbae]

𝓫𝓾𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓭𝓮𝓮𝓻 𝓮𝔂𝓮𝓼 - 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 5

(1,200 words)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

summary:

luigi fell in love with you for those sparkling eyes where his dreams of falling in love first came true. but how did it happen?

𝗍𝗐: 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍

~

"Hey, watch your step." You're walking, sniffling as you drag your barely wrapped homecoming dress in the store's bag, before you find yourself stumbling. The rain is pouring down, making your clothes feel heavier as you're still walking and outside for god knows how long. Your ankle folds outward because of the raised sidewalk, prompting a foreign hand to grab your shoulder.

You turn around, reeling yourself in before you look into a new set of eyes. They look familiar, but you just can't seem to place them. Hazel and almond-shaped eyes consume your thoughts. Your eyes go wide.

"Andrew. Jesus-" You mutter before placing your hand to your forehead, blinking slowly as your temperature is concerningly high. Andrew immediately steps forward, grabbing both shoulders before bending his head down.

"I'm really concerned about you. I tried to reach out to you about our class project since morning and I didn't hear an answ-HEY!" He yells, catching you in his arms as you pant. This is not going the way you want it to. You groan in discomfort, grabbing Andrew's shoulder for support.

"I really hate to do this, but does it matter to you if I carry you? Your cast isn't making this any better?" He's bending his knees, cautious to keep you barely upright without touching in places he shouldn't afraid of taking the step. You nearly roll your eyes in annoyance whilst wanting to break down and sob.

"Need to get rid of this stupid dress." You whisper in a broken voice and Andrew nods, but doesn't change his position. "Can I-" "Yes, Andrew. Or let me go. Drop me like every- everyone in my life has been doing so far." Your words have a harsh bite to them but he pays no heed, only nodding his head in haste as he picks you up bridal style, heaving the soaked dress over his shoulder. You wrap your hands around his neck and bury your face into his shoulder, utterly ruined and feeling feverish.

Andrew looks down at you, gulping. He didn't think you were in such a bad state, but now its his job to take care of you.

"Dress." You let tears escape from your eyes and to your dismay, Andrew doesn't listen.

"You're more important than the dress. You're burning up. I'm taking you back to your apartment." He smiles a bit when he watches you head tip back in frustration. You give an unpleasant expression before letting your head fall forward, letting the small jumps that come with every step lull the discomfort away.

The rain is still pouring, but it's not so bad with Andrew carrying you as his head is now taking most of the droplets with the exception of a few streams of water falling onto your poorly made jacket.

You both walk through the treacherous for who-knows-how-long before he's stopping in front of your door, the familiar lack of paint and rattling door-knob piquing your interest as you try to pay attention.

"Where are we?" You shake your head as the details of your own apartment seem vaguely reminiscent of a place you think you live in.

"How long were you out in the rain?" Andrew is now looking at down at you and for the first time, you look directly into his eyes and gasp.

It shouldn't be Andrew holding you, it should be Luigi.

Suddenly, the memories of what happened come crashing down like the already pouring rain tries to flood your vision and judgement, making your breathing pick up. You help yourself onto the ground, stumbling and taking a few steps back before using the door to keep yourself up.

"Hey stop-" "No, no I-I-I-" You stumble over your words, trying to put distance between the two of you.

"What are you doing?" A new voice makes both of your heads turn and to your absolute horror, there he is. The man of your dreams and the root of your problems.

Luigi Mangione.

Of course, he isn't empty-handed. He's soaked, drenched in the rain, holding a bouquet of flowers and a neatly folded and closed up bag, tissue paper that once had structure now ripping from the weight of the water. You realize he's likely witnessed the entire thing and the thought itself makes you nearly pass out because it's getting across the wrong idea.

Andrew stands frozen, realizing something is going on and before he knows it, he's trying to get away from the situation.

"Just um-" Andrew starts speaking and Luigi takes a step closer, not interrupting.

"Take care." Andrew looks into your eyes before glancing and Luigi and scurrying away, giving a short glance back and making his way back.

You're still stuck in the corner, replaying every single moment that has happened so far and realizing this might screw your day even worse.

Your legs are shaking though, weak from pain and against your will, you slide down the wall, whimpering from helplessness as pain shoots through your broken leg.

You realize you forgot your meds for the day.

You hear a crunching of paper and a drop of something, as hands come around to hug you but as though it's instinct, you push Luigi away.

"D-Don't touch me." You sigh out but his hands don't move, making you push him. "Fuckin' worming your way back in after insulting me like this shit isn't happening to both of us." You laugh breathlessly, feeling shaky hands retracting from your frame. Despite your wishes, his body is still close.

"I-I'm sorry that's why I came over and then I saw that guy holding you and I thought you lost everything and forgot what we h-" "Really?" You tilt your head up to look at Luigi, crying as the words start flooding into your thoughts and within seconds, you're sending them flying into his face.

"W-What?" Luigi asks and you answer.

"Must feel like shit when someone you l-care about pushes you away." You laugh sardonically, swallowing the cold droplets the slip past your lips while watching Luigi eat away at himself.

"Some stupid fuckin' crush and it hasn't even been a week but I-I'm in so much pain and you push me away like I'm not going through stuff too. You think this is easy for me? You think I'm wanting this right now? Because I'll tell you right now, it's not. I'm not sure a degree at Penn would help you understand-" You cough before saying the last of your words and standing up to unlock your door.

"I just don't want to talk to you. I don't want your flowers. I don't want-" You hesitate, ready to say the word 'you' but stopping because that could shatter his heart. It could break the fibers of who he is and you know you're both stupid.

Why make this worse?

You swallow hard, turning your back to him and opening the door.

"I need to be alone. Alone like you left me earlier." You cock your head to the side before walking inside and slamming the door closed, quietly sobbing before regretting it all, the pain worsening as you think about his likely crestfallen expression.

~

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~

author's note: i'm sorry this chapter is so short. i had to write some angst because i'm not feeling well so this was a quick way to cope. this will be a lil longer than expected but enjoy!

[sycamorelibrary754]

Hearts on the Run

Summary: You and Natasha are on the run in Norway, unaware that Valentine’s Day is upon you. Natasha goes out of her way to make it special.

Word Count: 942

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

A/N: A day late, but I wanted to write a little something for Natasha. Happy Valentine’s Day!

Holiday Series: Home is Anywhere You Are Masterlist

You sat on the worn couch in the small, nondescript safe house, flipping through a battered copy of a magazine. The words blurred together on the page as your mind wandered back to the events that had led you here.

It had been months since the airport battle in Leipzig. Months since Steve had gone rogue, you'd found yourself at odds with the organization you'd sworn to protect.

You had both made difficult decisions and were now paying the price. You chose to stand by Steve, convinced that the Sokovia Accords posed a grave danger to the Avengers' freedom. Natasha, on the other hand, aligned with Tony. Having witnessed the chaos of unchecked power firsthand—the horrors of the Red Room and the sinister machinations of HYDRA—she couldn't bear the thought of history repeating itself.

Yet, when the moment arrived, her loyalty to Steve prevailed, and she aided him and Bucky in their escape. After being captured by Ross and making a break for freedom, Natasha arrived in the serene yet rugged wilderness of Norway, where fate had a surprise in store for her—she found you, a beacon of hope amid the chaos she had fled. Both of you on the run and united by a shared sense of purpose.

Nat walked into the room, her eyes scanning the space before coming to rest on you. "Hey," she said, her voice low and smooth. "Find anything interesting?"

You shook your head, setting the magazine aside. "Just the usual. Politics, scandals...nothing that will help us get out of this mess.”

Natasha nodded sympathetically. "I know. It feels like we're stuck in limbo, doesn't it?"

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "I just wish we could go back to how things were before. You know, when our biggest worry was some alien invasion or Hydra scientist."

Natasha smiled wryly. "I miss those days too. But we can't change the past. We have to focus on the present."

You looked up at her, feeling a surge of gratitude. Natasha had been a rock for you throughout this ordeal, using her vast resources and network of contacts to keep you one step ahead of the authorities.

You felt a flutter in your chest as you gazed into her eyes. It was a feeling you'd grown accustomed to over the past few months, but one that still caught you off guard.

Natasha seemed to sense your gaze, and her expression softened. "Hey," she said, walking over to sit beside you on the couch. "It's Valentine's Day."

You raised an eyebrow. "I hadn't noticed."

Natasha smiled. "I figured as much. But I thought we could...celebrate, anyway."

You felt a spark of curiosity. "Celebrate?"

Natasha nodded. "Yeah. I mean, we're stuck in this safe house, but that doesn't mean we can't make the most of it. I was thinking we could...have a nice dinner, watch a movie...something like that."

You smiled, feeling a sense of excitement. "That sounds amazing."

Natasha grinned, standing up. "Great. I'll go start dinner."

As she walked into the kitchen, you couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder. Despite everything that had happened, despite being on the run and in hiding, Natasha had still managed to make this Valentine's Day special.

You got up and walked over to the window, looking out at the drab, suburban landscape. It wasn't the most romantic setting, but with Natasha by your side, you felt like you could face anything.

As you stood there, lost in thought, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned to see Natasha standing behind you with a small smile.

"Hey," she said, her voice low and husky. "Dinner's ready."

You smiled, feeling a sense of anticipation. "Great. I'm starving."

Natasha chuckled, leading you to the small table in the corner of the room. The spread before you was impressive - steak, roasted vegetables, and even a small chocolate cake for dessert.

You sat down, feeling grateful. "Natasha, this is amazing. You didn't have to go to so much trouble."

Natasha smiled, sitting down across from you. "I wanted to. Not every day we get to celebrate Valentine's Day in style."

You laughed, picking up your fork. "I guess not."

As you ate, you couldn't help but feel a sense of joy. Despite everything that had happened, despite being on the run and in hiding, you felt like you'd found a sense of peace with Natasha.

After dinner, you sat down on the couch, watching as Natasha put in a DVD. The movie was an old romantic comedy you'd seen before but never grew tired of.

As you watched, you felt Natasha's hand brush against yours. It was a fleeting touch, but it sent a spark of electricity through your body.

You looked over at her, seeing the faintest glimmer of a smile on her face. You smiled back, feeling a sense of connection.

As the movie ended, Natasha got up and walked to the window. You followed her, standing beside her as you looked at the night sky.

"It's beautiful," Natasha said, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, feeling a sense of agreement. "It is."

You looked up, meeting Natasha's eyes. For moment, you just stared at each other, the tension between you palpable.

Then Natasha smiled a slow, sultry smile. "Happy Valentine's Day," she said, her voice low and husky.

You smiled back, feeling your heart skip a beat. "Happy Valentine's Day," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

As you stood there, the air thick with tension, you knew that this Valentine's Day, on the run and in hiding, would be one you'd never forget.

[miwiheroes]

Dropping Byler Evidence Every (Other) Day Until Season 5

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁Day 29: Original S3 Ending Script . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

So I've already done a very thorough analysis of the ending of S3, particularly the part where Mike has his realisation moment. I said in that post that he realised that something is wrong with his relationship with El, and he realises that he's changed so much in the past year. He no longer wants to be this way -- but he's obviously got this huge dilemma now, does he choose Will or his promise to El and himself?

This is all originally speculation based on the set design, Mike's facial expression and the kiss. Plus his whole ass attitude during the season. BUT we do not really get his internal monologue outwardly. We have had very little internal conflict moments in S3 and S4 with Mike.

HOWEVER, if you look at the original script that the creators uploaded online, you can actually see this inner conflict coming through. Keep in mind that when you try to find this again, there is none of these thoughts in the script. The writers put the original script up, then took it down and reuploaded it without the incriminating parts.

Basically this just confirms that they're really trying to keep Mike's arc a secret. Because what do you mean they only deleted these parts???

"Say it. Dammit. What's wrong with me?" -- perfectly sets up the arc in S4 where he can't say I love you.

Saying "What's wrong with me?" in inner dialogue is literally the most queer coded thing I've ever seen. This script just confirms that he knew he had said I love you to El earlier in the season. The reason he's confused is not because he had no idea what he had said. He acts confused to get El to say it for him instead. Keep in mind that Finn did read this script and at this part of the scene, he does this face:

Which is, to me, super subtle. These little moments of inner conflict are so subtle and done so well that you really have to catch them when you're looking for them.

Of course, there's this part of the script too:

My immediate thought is the fact that Milevens often say that Mike looks happy, but this question in his head is not happy. He's confused, not just about what El said, but what happened at all. He can't just be processing that she loves him, if it was that, the question would not be phrased this way.

THEN we obviously have the Hopper letter moment. During that monologue, I think that's when Mike really has the realisation of what has gone on with him this season. The words over the top of shots of him spell it out -- he knows that he's forced to change himself, he doesn't know what to do, he's dug himself into a hole and wants to get out.

[christopherisfoive]

Underneath It All

Han x reader (College AU)

Note: I miss writing dearly however I can not get myself to do so. I have been reading stuff by others and missing those authors who are away. I hope to be able to read their work again soon xx

word count: 5.4k

I let my eyes wander to the bench where he sat with his friends, talking and eating his lunch. From the curl of his hair to the color of his lips, I was always enamored with his presence. I understood his appeal—the way girls around the school followed him, talking to his friends just to steal a moment of his attention.

I sighed and lowered my gaze to the grapes on my tray.

"I don't understand why you don't just go up to him and talk like everyone else does," my friend Kat said. She always insisted I had the confidence to do whatever I wanted—just like she did.

"It's because I can't do that. I'm not you. Also I don't really get the hype."

She huffed and stuffed one of my grapes into her mouth. I shot her an unserious look, but luckily, she turned the conversation around, and we started talking about finals next week. I tried to lure my brain back to its senses, forcing myself to forget about the puffy-cheeked boy sitting mere feet away.

I hear the screeching of a chair and glance up just as Han stands with his tray. Our eyes meet for a split second. His gaze sharpens, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them before his expression hardens—dismissive, like we were kids at the playground and I had just stolen his favorite toy.

“Something interesting?” he says, cocking a brow.

I clear my throat and look away, pretending to focus on the grapes on my tray. “Not at all.”

He huffs a laugh under his breath, low enough that only I catch it. When I glance up again, he’s already walking away.

Kat smirks. “Oooooh, tension.”

I roll my eyes and swipe a fry from her plate, ignoring the smug look on her face. I just wanted the next class to come already.

Hours pass, and somehow, I make it to the end of the day. My last class—Art Concepts—is with the least engaging professor in the entire university.

Most days, I can focus just fine, but on select afternoons like this, I find myself sketching assignments for my drawing courses instead.

I usually kept to myself in this class anyway. It just so happened that Han and his two friends, Hyunjin and Felix, were also enrolled.

Today, though, I only saw his friends—no Han in sight.

Fifteen minutes passed, and the professor still hadn't shown up. The room buzzed with quiet conversations, but most students were just waiting. I let my mind wander, zoning out as my gaze settled on the only empty desk beside me.

I didn’t even realize how long I had been staring until a familiar, taunting voice broke through my thoughts.

"Are you, like, alive? Or…?"

I blinked and looked up—straight into Han’s gaze.

I hadn’t even noticed him walk in. But now, standing there with that ever-present smirk, he seemed way too amused. And worse? While I had been lost in my thoughts, I completely missed the fact that this was the only open seat left.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Just waiting," I respond nonchalantly, forcing my voice to stay even.

I look away before he can catch the shift in my mood, but I swear he senses it anyway.

Han hums, dragging out the sound like he doesn’t quite believe me. "Right. Just waiting. Definitely not zoned out, looking completely lost in thought or anything."

I scoff, finally glancing back at him. "Do you always narrate people’s lives, or am I just lucky?"

His smirk widens as he slides into the empty seat next to me. "Oh, you’re definitely lucky."

I can feel the warmth of his presence, the slight brush of his arm against mine, but I refuse to acknowledge it. Instead, I turn my focus back to my sketchbook, determined not to let him get under my skin.

But he’s relentless. "You’re awfully quiet now," he says, voice low enough that only I can hear. "You were doing so well with that attitude a second ago."

I glance at him again, my eyes narrowing. "Maybe I just don’t have the energy for you today."

His lips twitch, and he leans in slightly, too close for comfort. "Lucky for you, I’m not going anywhere."

I roll my eyes, turning my attention to my sketchbook instead of whatever this was turning into.

I put the rest of my energy into finishing my sketch, hoping the professor would show up—though I wouldn’t be surprised if we got a last-minute cancellation email. My eyelids felt heavy, and my head bobbed every so often, fighting sleep.

Suddenly, I sat up straight, forcing myself to stay awake.

I could feel Han’s gaze shift toward me. His eyes flicked up and down, like he was assessing me. "You good?"

I didn’t even look at him, keeping my focus on my sketchbook. "Yeah. Just… tired."

He tilted his head slightly, clearly intrigued. "Tired? Or just bored?"

I gritted my teeth, trying to keep my cool. "A little bit of both. How about you? Enjoying the show?"

Han chuckled, leaning back in his seat, clearly enjoying the game. "Oh, I’m enjoying it alright. Watching you struggle to stay awake? Priceless."

I bit back a sarcastic reply, but I couldn’t help the heat rising in my cheeks. He was right, and the worst part? He knew it.

"Why did you show up late? Didn’t want to sit with your buddies today?" I ask with a small, teasing smile, barely keeping the smugness out of my voice.

Han quirks an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the question. For a moment, his usual cocky expression falters. "What, you think I’m avoiding them?"

I shrug casually, keeping my gaze fixed on my sketchbook, though I can’t help but notice how he leans in slightly, probably trying to figure me out. "Could be," I say with a slight smirk, though the truth is, I was just trying to throw him off.

He chuckles, but there’s a certain glint in his eyes now. "You don’t know me as well as you think, do you?"

I smile meekly, a bit of satisfaction tugging at the corners of my lips. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

He leans in a little, voice dropping. "Or maybe I just don’t need them to have a good time."

My heart skips a beat at the implication, but I don’t let it show. "Really? So you're fine with sitting next to me then?" I raise an eyebrow, trying to keep the challenge alive.

He smirks, leaning back again. "Oh, I don’t mind. You make this class way more interesting."

I roll my eyes, not sure whether I should be annoyed or… flattered? Either way, I keep my cool. "Sure, because I’m the life of the party."

Han chuckles softly, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at me now. "You’d be surprised."

I sit back in my chair, glancing down towards the front of the class, trying to ignore the slight unease swirling in my chest.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Hyunjin and Felix staring at us—eyes flicking between me and Han. The second they realize I’ve caught their gaze, they quickly look away, though I swear I see the corners of their lips twitching.

I try not to let it get to me, focusing on the front of the room instead, but it’s impossible not to feel like I’ve become the topic of their conversation.

Han, of course, notices their quick reaction too, and I can almost hear the smug satisfaction in his voice when he speaks. "They can’t keep their eyes off us, huh?"

I sigh inwardly, not giving him the satisfaction of looking his way again. "Maybe they’re just bored."

Han leans closer, his voice a little quieter now, like he’s sharing a secret. "I think they know something’s going on. Maybe they’re waiting for us to make a move."

I raise an eyebrow and cross my arms, leaning back slightly in my chair. "And what kind of move would that be?"

Han tilts his head, a glimmer of curiosity behind his smirk. "I don’t know… something a little less, uh, distant." His gaze flicks briefly to my face, studying me.

I give him a pointed look. "Distant? I’m not the one leaning in every two seconds."

He chuckles, clearly amused by my response, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes. "True. You’re different from the others."

I scoff, leaning forward a little. "And what’s that supposed to mean?"

He shrugs casually, but I can see a slight shift in his posture, as if he’s trying to gauge me a little more. "Just that… most girls are pretty eager to talk to me. But you? You don’t exactly jump at the chance."

I keep my expression neutral, but a little voice in the back of my mind tells me he’s digging for something more. "Guess I’m just not like them."

Han raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Guess not." He leans back in his chair, his eyes lingering on me for a moment longer than I’m comfortable with. "But it’s interesting, don’t you think? The way you’re not all over me like everyone else."

I don't respond to him. Not because I have nothing to say but because I have this horribly feeling that if I do I'll confess to him about all the times I have thought about talking to him.

I don’t respond to him—not because I have nothing to say, but because I have this horrible feeling that if I do, I’ll accidentally confess to him all the times I’ve thought about talking to him.

The thought hits me like a wave, and my throat tightens. I can’t bring myself to say anything more. If I open my mouth, I might just blurt out all the things I’ve been trying to avoid. All the days I’ve watched him from across the room, imagining what it would be like to just walk up to him and say something.

Instead, I stay silent, hoping he doesn’t notice the way my heart’s picking up speed. I keep my gaze locked on my sketchbook, willing myself to focus on the lines in front of me, even as his presence next to me feels too loud.

Han doesn’t push me for an answer, but I can feel his eyes on me—probing, like he’s waiting for me to crack.

I can feel my heart beat in my ears, each thud louder than the last. My breath catches in my throat, and before I can stop it, I let out a small, awkward cough, hoping it’ll cover up the fact that I’m suddenly drowning in this unwelcome feeling.

I try to look down at my sketchbook, but it’s like the weight of his gaze is heavy on me now. I know he’s still watching, and it makes my skin burn with embarrassment.

"Are you okay?" Han’s voice breaks through the silence, and it’s so much softer than I expect.

I swallow hard, willing my face to stay neutral. "Yeah, fine," I say quickly, trying to sound casual, but I can feel the heat in my cheeks betraying me.

I glance at him, just for a second, and then immediately look away when I realize the intensity in his eyes. Great, now he probably knows I’m acting weird.

I glance at him, just for a second, and then immediately look away when I realize the intensity in his eyes. Great, now he probably knows I’m acting weird.

Han doesn’t laugh or tease this time. Instead, there’s a moment of silence, and then his voice comes, softer than before. "You sure you’re fine?"

I look up at him, trying to keep the nervous flutter out of my chest, but his gaze is a little too intense. I open my mouth to respond, but the words don’t come out immediately. Why is he being like this?

He leans a little closer, his tone casual but with an undertone of something more. "You don’t usually act like this. You, uh, okay?" His eyes flicker to my face, like he’s trying to read me.

For a second, I consider just brushing it off. But the way he’s looking at me—so quietly observant, like he’s seeing through my walls—makes me hesitate. I can’t just say something random and pretend everything’s fine.

I clear my throat, finally forcing words out. "Yeah. I’m just tired."

Han doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but he doesn’t push further. He leans back, though his gaze still lingers for a moment longer than I expect. "Alright. Just making sure."

By this time, it's been almost thirty minutes, and the professor still hasn’t shown up. I glance at the clock, my patience running thin. I decide that saving myself by leaving is the best option. The thought of heading back to my dorm and possibly taking a nap on my desk sounds like pure bliss right now.

I start packing my things back into my bag, my mind already half-out the door. I’m just about to zip it up when I rub the exhaustion out of my eyes, feeling the weight of the day settle in.

Before I can grab my bag and head out, I hear Han’s voice again, this time sounding a bit more serious than I expect. "You leaving?"

I pause, the motion of stuffing my sketchbook into my bag halting as I glance up at him. Han’s eyes are no longer playful, and his posture is slightly more upright, like he's actually paying attention to me for the first time today.

I hesitate for a second, debating whether to just walk away or give him some kind of answer. Finally, I shrug, trying to sound casual even though I can feel the heat rising in my chest. "Yeah, don’t think this class is happening."

Han studies me for a moment, and then his lips curl into a small, almost knowing smirk. "You sure about that? I think you just might be missing something."

I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or genuine, but it’s enough to make me stop mid-motion. I stare at him, my hand frozen on the zipper of my bag. Is he serious? Does he want me to stay?

I stare at him for a moment, unsure if I heard him right. His expression has shifted again, no longer playful, but still too hard to read. My heart skips a beat, and I feel a strange pull—like maybe I’m missing something, like maybe he wants me to stay.

I glance at the door, my mind already made up. I should just leave. This class is practically canceled anyway.

But something in the way Han is looking at me makes me pause. Why do I feel like I’m being baited?

He raises an eyebrow, as if he’s waiting for me to say something, but all I can do is stare back, unsure of how to respond. I can’t decide whether it’s his confidence or the curiosity building between us that’s keeping me rooted to the spot.

Finally, I let out a small, almost nervous laugh. "You really think the professor is going to show up?" I try to keep my tone light, but it’s clear I’m still trying to deflect.

Han just shrugs, leaning back slightly in his chair, his smirk returning. "Could be. Or maybe, you're just avoiding something."

I frown, unsure of what he means, but the way he says it catches my attention. He’s not even teasing anymore. There’s something in his eyes—something that makes me feel like he’s trying to figure me out, in the way that only someone who’s actually paying attention would.

I bite my lip, looking back at my bag again, but somehow, I don’t feel the urge to rush out the door anymore. I feel... caught.

Han’s eyes flicker to my bag and then back to me. "You know, I’ve never actually seen you stick around after class." His voice is low, and even though he sounds nonchalant, there’s a subtle weight behind it. "What’s the rush?"

I feel my stomach flip. He’s definitely noticed something, and I’m not sure if I like that.

I bite my lip, my fingers tracing the edge of my bag, the words swirling in my head. It’s you. You’re the reason I feel like I’m in a rush.

But I can’t say that. I can’t tell him that.

Instead, I clear my throat, trying to shake the weight of my own thoughts off. "I don’t know, maybe I just... have stuff to do." The words feel hollow, like they’re coming from someone else, but I push them out anyway, hoping it will stop him from seeing right through me.

Han doesn’t seem convinced, though. His gaze never wavers, like he’s watching for any little sign I might give away. And somehow, I feel like I’m standing completely exposed, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking but is waiting for me to say it.

I shift in my seat, trying to keep my cool. "I don’t like staying after class. Just feels... pointless."

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. There’s something about the way he looks at me that makes me feel like he’s trying to coax me into admitting something—anything.

I let out a breath, my heart beating just a little faster. There’s this feeling creeping up my chest, like maybe, just maybe, if I told him—if I said the words—something would change. But I can’t.

"Anyway," I say, my voice steady but shaking on the inside, "I should probably go."

I stand up quickly, trying to escape the suffocating tension. I can feel his eyes on me as I move, and it makes my pulse quicken even more. It’s him. He’s the rush. He’s the one who keeps me from leaving. But I can’t say it. Not now. Not ever.

I push through the door of the building, the cool air hitting my face as I step outside. I take a deep breath, hoping the open space will calm my nerves. The campus is quieter now, the usual hustle and bustle having quieted down as students filter out of the building, heading in different directions.

Finally. I’m free.

But as I take a step forward, I hear the sound of footsteps behind me. A little too close to be a coincidence.

I don’t turn around. I can’t turn around.

I keep walking, my steps faster now, almost instinctively, trying to escape this strange feeling gnawing at me. I feel the weight of his gaze even without looking back.

But then, out of nowhere, I hear his voice.

"Not running away again, are you?"

I freeze. My heart stumbles in my chest. Han’s standing just behind me now, a few steps away but enough to make it impossible to ignore him. The teasing tone is still there, but it’s quieter, more deliberate. His presence is almost… unsettling now.

I slowly turn to face him, trying to keep my expression neutral, but I’m sure he can see the flicker of confusion in my eyes. He looks completely unbothered, like following me out here was the most normal thing in the world.

"I’m not running away," I say quickly, my voice a little sharper than I intended. I don’t even know why I feel defensive; it’s not like I owe him an explanation.

Han doesn’t seem to mind my tone. He just looks at me with that same unreadable expression. His eyes flicker toward the building we just came from, then back to me.

"So, what is it then?" His voice is low, casual, but the question hangs in the air like a challenge. "You avoiding me?"

I laugh, but it’s tight, forced. "No, I’m not avoiding you." My stomach twists, but I refuse to let him see how much his words are affecting me.

Han steps closer, the space between us shrinking, and I feel my pulse quicken. "Funny," he says with a half-smile, his gaze intense. "Because it sure seems like it."

I try to step around him, my thoughts a jumbled mess, but Han steps into my path again, blocking my way. There’s a smirk tugging at his lips, but his eyes are serious now. He’s not playing games anymore.

"Are you really just going to walk away?"

My breath catches, but I stay silent, my heart pounding like it’s about to escape my chest. I glance up at him, and he’s looking at me with that same piercing gaze. I feel pinned in place, like I’m stuck between wanting to run and wanting to stay.

I take another step, trying to brush past him, but Han mirrors me, moving just slightly to the side to stay in my path.

"What are you so afraid of?" he asks, his voice low, almost like he’s teasing, but there’s a seriousness in the way he looks at me. "You can’t just walk away from this."

I turn my back to him, taking a deep breath to steady myself. He’s not going to let it go.

"What’s your deal, huh?" I snap, spinning around to face him, my voice shaky but loud. I can feel my emotions starting to spiral out of control. "Why do you keep doing this? Why do you keep following me?"

His eyes widen for a split second, but then he’s right back to that confident, collected expression. He steps even closer, barely any space between us now. "I don’t know. Maybe I’m just curious."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, and before I can stop it, the floodgates open. "Curious?" I laugh, the sound coming out bitter. "You want to know why I’m avoiding you, right?"

I don’t wait for him to answer. The words are spilling out before I can think, like they’ve been locked inside me for far too long.

"It’s you, okay? You… you intrigue me." I wince as I say it, my own voice feeling too loud, too vulnerable. "I can’t stop thinking about you. I think about talking to you all the time, and I just… I just can’t."

I can’t believe I’m saying this. My heart is racing so fast, I’m sure he can hear it. I’m terrified of how exposed I feel, how raw my emotions are right now.

Han’s eyes soften, just slightly, and for a second, I think maybe he’s going to say something comforting, but then his lips curl into a small smile.

"So, you do want to talk to me, huh?" He leans in a little closer, his voice almost a whisper. "Then why don’t you?"

I open my mouth, but no words come out. I want to run away. I want to disappear into the ground and never come back. But I can’t. Not now. Not with him standing there, waiting for me to finish what I started.

I stand there, frozen, my heart pounding so loud I’m sure he can hear it. His eyes are still on me, waiting for my next move, the silence stretching between us like an invisible thread pulling me in.

"So, you think about talking to me all the time?" Han’s voice is a little lower now, almost teasing, but there’s something behind his words I can’t quite place. He steps just a little bit closer, his proximity making everything feel heavier.

I try to pull back, but something in me is rooted to the spot. "I…" My voice falters, and I swallow hard, feeling the weight of his gaze bearing down on me. It’s like he’s waiting for me to crumble.

He watches me for a moment, his eyes glinting with something that I can’t quite name. Then, finally, he steps back just a bit, his shoulders softening, as if he’s deciding to give me space. But instead of turning away, he looks at me with a soft, genuine smile.

"I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable," he says quietly. The teasing edge is gone, replaced by something warmer. More real. "I just… didn’t expect you to say that."

The words settle around me like a weight, and for the first time since this entire conversation started, I feel like I can breathe. His presence isn’t overwhelming now—it’s almost comforting. Like he’s not trying to get anything out of me, but just… understanding.

I don’t know why, but the sudden shift in his demeanor makes me feel like I’ve been holding my breath all this time.

"You intrigue me, too," I say softly, my voice barely above a whisper. It feels almost like a confession, but it’s true.

I can’t look at him directly, not after everything I’ve said, so I focus on my hands, suddenly feeling all too aware of how much I’ve just exposed. My cheeks heat up, and I pray he won’t notice.

But then, Han reaches out, just lightly touching my arm, and my heart skips a beat. It’s so gentle, almost like he’s trying to steady me without saying a word.

"It’s okay," he murmurs, his voice soft, the teasing gone completely now. "You don’t have to explain yourself."

And just like that, everything that had felt so heavy—so intense—begins to soften. The walls I had built up around myself start to crumble in the most unexpected way. I feel my shoulders relax for the first time since I’ve known him, and I can’t help but smile softly.

For a moment, we just stand there, the silence stretching between us like a quiet thread connecting us in ways I never imagined. My heart is still racing, but it’s not in a panic anymore. It’s the kind of racing that feels real, like something is about to change.

Han’s gaze doesn’t waver from mine, and I can feel the weight of everything I’ve just said hanging in the air. His eyes soften just a little, and I wonder if he can feel the shift too. Maybe he’s as caught up in this as I am.

The tension feels like it’s building again, but this time it’s different. It’s not awkward or uncomfortable—it’s something else. I don’t know if it’s the way he’s looking at me, or if it’s because I finally said the truth out loud, but I can’t look away. I don’t want to.

But before I can say anything else, I hear the sound of footsteps approaching. My heart gives a little lurch, and I look away just as Hyunjin and Felix come around the corner of the building. Han doesn’t break eye contact with me until they catch up, and then he turns his head slightly, breaking the spell we were caught in.

"Hey, guys," Han says, his tone shifting as his friends approach. They give him a knowing look, and then they glance at me, but they don’t say anything right away. It’s like they’re waiting for him to explain.

I clear my throat, suddenly feeling a little out of place. "Hey," I mumble, trying to act casual even though my heart is still pounding.

Han looks over at me, his eyes glinting with a teasing edge again, but there’s something different in his expression this time.

"These are my friends, Hyunjin and Felix." He gestures toward the two of them. "You’ve met Felix before, right?"

Felix gives me a warm smile, his eyes lighting up when he sees me. "Yeah, I think we had a class together last semester!"

Hyunjin just gives me a small nod, his eyes sharp, but he doesn’t say much. I’m sure he’s observing everything, like he always does.

I try to smile back at them, but the conversation feels a little distant now. I’m still reeling from the earlier exchange with Han, and now, with the three of them standing there, I’m not sure what to say.

"Nice to meet you both," I say, my voice a little quieter than usual.

Han catches my eye again, and I can feel the unspoken words between us. The way he looks at me now is different—like he knows something I don’t.

As soon as Hyunjin and Felix join us, the atmosphere shifts again. I notice Felix giving me another friendly smile, but Hyunjin, on the other hand, seems to be observing us a little too closely.

Han looks at him for a moment, his expression shifting to one of mild annoyance. "What?" Han asks, his voice tinged with a quiet warning.

Hyunjin leans in a little, his eyes flicking back and forth between me and Han, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I didn’t know you were so... chatty these days."

Han’s cheeks flush slightly, and I catch the briefest moment where he looks like he’s about to say something, but he just gives a short, almost dismissive laugh instead. He turns to me, trying to play it cool again. "Don’t mind him, he likes to tease."

But Hyunjin’s eyes never leave Han, and he raises an eyebrow, his tone light but with an edge. "Oh, we can tell."

Felix seems to catch on to the vibe pretty quickly and shoots a look at Hyunjin, trying to diffuse the moment with a casual comment. "It’s been a while since we’ve all hung out, right?"

Hyunjin shrugs, his gaze still lingering on Han for just a moment longer before he finally turns to me with a bright, friendly grin. "Sorry if we’re making things awkward. We’ve just been waiting for Han to make a move for, like, forever."

My heart skips, but I force a smile, pretending I didn’t catch the hint. I look at Han, who looks a little uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "A move?" I ask, genuinely confused.

Felix jumps in quickly, laughing a little too loudly. "He means just, you know… being less of a weirdo around people."

Han shoots him a glare, and I can see his usual easygoing confidence slipping just slightly. "I don’t know what they’re talking about," he mutters, clearly embarrassed.

But it doesn’t seem like Hyunjin is done just yet. He leans in a bit, looking at Han with a playful, knowing grin. "Sure, sure. But don’t worry, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before you show us how you really feel."

I’m still not entirely sure what they mean, but it’s enough to make my heart race again, a mix of confusion and something I can’t quite place bubbling up inside me.

I glance between them, trying to piece together what they’re saying. Felix and Hyunjin are clearly enjoying themselves, but Han seems... almost caught off guard by their teasing. It’s subtle, but there’s something in the way he won’t meet my eyes, something that makes my stomach twist.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" I find myself asking before I can stop it, my voice barely above a whisper.

Hyunjin grins, shooting me a playful wink, his tone light but knowing. "Oh, don’t worry about it," he says, before nudging Felix. "You’ll figure it out soon enough."

I blink, still unsure, but I feel my cheeks start to burn again. My eyes flicker to Han, who's now standing just a little too close for comfort. He’s still quiet, but I can feel the weight of his presence beside me, almost like he’s waiting for me to say something.

My heart is pounding, and I try to brush off the tension, but it’s getting harder to ignore.

As if sensing my confusion, Han finally speaks, his voice softer than usual. "It’s not like that." He glances at me, his gaze lingering just long enough for me to catch the subtle vulnerability in his eyes before he looks away.

The moment feels heavy, and I’m not sure if it’s my racing heartbeat or the silence between us that makes it so hard to breathe. I feel like I should say something, but I’m not sure what to make of any of this yet.

Felix and Hyunjin continue their walk ahead, but I’m left standing there, caught between confusion and something else—something that feels a lot like... curiosity.

I glance at Han again, but this time, he doesn’t look back. Instead, he gives a small, almost imperceptible sigh, like he’s resigned to something. "You should get going," he says, his voice almost gentle.

I hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to say. "Yeah… I should." But even as I turn to walk away, I feel his presence linger behind me, and I know that whatever this is between us... it’s not over yet.

[jamisonwritestf2trash]

TF2 Mercs (+ Miss Pauling) HC: Love Languages!

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Happy Valentines Day, everyone! The title is pretty self-explanatory. I know not everyone believes in love languages, but I still thought It'd be a nice post for the holiday :) More romantic than platonic, I fear, but you can take it however you please! Also, kind of x reader-ish, as in using the word you a lot. Also, also! We're doing the love language they give (how they express love) and the love language they like receiving (what makes them feel loved in return.)

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Demo-

Giving: Physical touch

This man has to CONSTANTLY be touching you, or he is NOT happy. Okay, I'm exaggerating a bit. He can find happiness in just being with you! But he can't deny that he wants nothing more than to hold, kiss, or cuddle with you. But don't assume all his expressions of love come from your classics. Sure, cuddling and kisses are nice, but there's more to it than that. Brushing or playing with your hair, tracing words on your arms and back, appreciating diffrent parts of your body you might have issues with, massages, and even just letting your rest your head on him after a long day, no matter what type of contact he provides to you, he will always be doing his best to make you feel loved through touch.

Receiving: Quality time

He just wants you to spend time with him, and he's more than happy. Involving him in even just a small part of your life makes him overjoyed. Ask him to join you with cooking, cleaning, hell, he'll even be content joining you in a hobby he may have NO interest in. It just makes him feel so loved to be a part of your life.

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Engie-

Giving: Words of affirmation

Engineer is never short on compliments, petnames, good advice, or even just genuine affirmation. He always wants to show you he cares through his words. Calling you beautiful, smart, caring, he always seems to know the right words to say to you to make you know how much he truly cares for and loves you. It's straightforward and leaves no room for questions. You'll hear compliments a million times a day, or at the very minimum, three times a day. He's more than happy to wake you up with compliments and help you to sleep with them. Outside of just compliments, if you're having a hard day, he'll always tell you just what you need to hear to push on a bit longer. When you're doing something well he's always there with a "I'm so proud." Or "I believe in you!" And even when you do something that, really, doesn't mean a lot, he'll always be sure to tell you just how much EVERYTHING you do means to him.

Receiving: Words of affirmation!

I think he genuinely enjoys giving and receiving the same type of love. Even if it does make him a little bit flustered sometimes. Knowing that he gets to hear words from your heart, the same way he provides words from his just does something to him. He's really a sucker for praise and comments on his smarts and skills. They make him melt, and get all shy. He can't help it!

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Heavy-

Giving: Acts of Service

Oh boy. This man would move mountains for you if he physically could. Hell, try asking him. He might just go and do it. He'll do anything you ask of him, and even things you don't ask of him. Have a hard time falling asleep? He's already making you a tea and finding a book to read to help you relax. Oh, you didn't eat today? Well, firstly, he's having a talk with you about the health ramifications, but he's also cooking you dinner. Cooking for you is actually his FAVORITE act of service to provide! He loves cooking and learning how to cook new dishes. So he's more than happy to learn a recipe for you. He'll help you with anything you need, anytime, anywhere. You mean the WORLD to him, so let him take care of you the way you DESERVE!

Receiving: Words of affirmation

Heavy is a simple man. Providing love to you makes him feel loved. That being said... knowing just how much you appreciate his acts of love makes him so incredibly happy. Even simple compliments on his cooking, or soft mentions of how much you enjoy hearing him read to you, just, you don't understand HOW overjoyed it makes him.

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Medic-

Giving: Words of affirmation

Similar to Engineer, he's never short on pet names, affirmations, or good advice. He is a bit more reserved with compliments, but they still make an appearance regularly. (Also, REALLY stretching it here, but he loves to tell you stories. It's his favorite thing, and he just really loves anything to do with talking to you.) You get petnames in both languages, always very heartfelt, my love/beloved, my darling, my heart. When you're doing good at something that doesn't involve him, his compliments tend to be generic. "Keep it up!" Or "Good work!" Being go tos. But when you're helping him specifically, then the more personal ones come through. He's more than willing to tell you just how helpful you are, how needed you are, how you make his days better. Speaking on strictly affirmations, though, he is partial to brushing your hair, or face softly, and repeating affirmations to you that help you feel better about yourself in any way.

Receiving: Physical touch

Soft gentle touches melt this man's heart every time. Gentle touches to his arms, face, and waist make him weak. He loves to be held, cuddled, and kissed. Everything about physical touch makes him feel so valued. He's a man who spends his day focusing on other people's bodies, it means a lot that someone focuses and cherishes his.

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Scout-

Giving: Acts of service

Unlike Heavy, Scout is more, secretive, about his desire to serve. Don't get him wrong. He adores you! But you know... he's gotta be a cool guy for you! He very casually does things. Your shoes got untied? Oh well, I mean, Scout's actually closer to the ground anyways so he might as well do it for you. There's a puddle on the ground in front of you that you most certainly can avoid? Woah woah woah, not on Scout's watch, you're a very classy person, so naturally, he should deal with this for you. He's very silly and over the top, but he loves you, and that's just the price you pay for winning his heart. His favorite act of service is "fixing" things for you, primary by getting Engie to fix them, but hey, he still got it done! And by cooking for you. I know, I know, the fandom is divided on this one, but hear me out! He loves his Ma, and do you really think she'd let her boys walk out of the house thinking cooking is women's work? Hell no. He makes sure to cook you extra special dinners when the time is right. I actually think he has a recipe box from his Ma, and he wants to cook you every recipe in it.

Receiving: Words of affirmation

Please tell him how good he's doing, please mean it, please- Okay, we all know how Scout is. He may act all tough and cocky, but above all, he really values you and your opinions. He WANTS to hear your praise and reassurance, and he wants to know he's making you feel as loved as possible. Loving you, as cheesy as it sounds, makes him feel loved too.

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Sniper-

Giving: Gift giving

Sniper, by nature, is very reserved, so sometimes it's hard for him to express his love in normal ways. Thus leading to you finding various...uh...unorthodox gifts, left out for you. Animal parts being a major one (if you're a little too freaked out by this, or too much of an animal lover, he WILL respect this, you'll find yourself receiving small wood carvings instead) from hides to bones to just the whole ass animal, it's his way of showing you he loves you! Much like how cats do it, it's a mix of displaying his affection while also getting your attention. A dead rabbit on the doorstep makes for a good conversation... Yeah? Giving you things is like giving a piece of himself to you, and every time you accept, he falls more and more.

Receiving: Quality time

Hey, so speaking of that dead rabbit, you know how you could make him feel really loved? Sniper is more than happy to spend some one on one time with you, preferably somewhere quiet. Honestly, he'd find it so nice to just go somewhere in the desert, start up a fire, show you how to clean up the rabbit (again, if you're an animal lover, you don't have to deal with any of this! He'll take you out to the same place, start the same fire, but just teach you how to do small wood carvings or handle weapons.) And have a nice dinner out there with you, albeit not the most filling, but hey, I'm sure there's other animals around to spot while you spend some time with him.

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Spy-

Giving: Acts of service

Spy is a gentleman by nature. Of course, he loves to help you out! Although he complains a little, none of it is serious. He'll pull out your chair and hold doors open for you. If you need something, he's more than willing to grab it for you. He can TRY and cook for you also with...mixed results. Though ask him to mix you a drink or make you a nice cup of coffee, and he definitely won't disappoint. He really does enjoy making you drinks more than anything. He loves being able to bring you coffee (or tea) early in the morning. He is also VERY fond of helping you with your clothes in any context, wearing a dress? Let him zip it up for you. Wearing a suit? Let him tie your tie for you. Literally just wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants? Well, let him give you a jacket so you won't be cold. He loves doing the little things for you to make your days better.

Receiving: Physical touch

Dance. With. Him. He wants nothing more than to dance with you, having you be close to him. Feeling you rest your head softly against him in slower dances or feeling your body tense up as you two move faster in more upbeat dances. Even if you can't dance, he'll find a way to teach you. Also, he absolutely adores when he's trusting enough, the feeling of you taking off his mask gently, showing you the real him. Touching and kissing his face softly will never fail to make him smile fondly.

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Soldier-

Giving: Words (sort) of affirmation

He might not SOUND the most, uh, affirming, or gentle, but trust it has the intent there! Petnames and compliments are Soldier's whose main go tos when it comes to showing his love. It may sound like he's calling you the names he'd call any other soldier, but his voice does get a little more softer when calling YOU, cupcake, maggot, private, or hippe. To be fair, though, he does have, not so much softer moments, but quieter moments off the battlefield. He'll talk to you, praise your efforts during the day, and maybe even talk to you about how words are just, both his strong suit, but they're still how he expresses his love. He cares for you, you're a damn good soldier, just like him.

Receiving: Gift receiving

Oh, he's so happy to receive a gift at any time. Any type of gift works too. He's just so happy. He loves the gifts so much. Whether it's food, art, or just things that remind you of him. It all just makes him overjoyed. You make him food, and he tells everyone within yelling distance about it.. You make him something? He's showing it off for weeks. Oh, you found some things you think he'd like? Everyone's hearing about it, seeing it, AND he'll find a way to use it. He loves thay you care about him, and he loves the little trinkets your gift him. Bonus points also if you get gifts for the raccoons!

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Pyro-

Giving: Gift giving

Pyro absolutely loves to make you handmade gifts. I think Pyro would have so much fun with clay and pottery, although it does get to the point where you physically can't store any more items because of how much it has given you. They can't help it! They need to put all the love they have for you in something, they channel all their love into each project. I also think baked goods (with the help of Scout and Heavy) are a pretty frequent gift. And even if they are a little bit charred sometimes, it's really the thought that sounds. They will also gift you stuffed animals! Just don't be surprised if they come over to sleep over and visit you pretty frequently to spend the night with their favorite person, and also check in on its babies.

Receiving: Physical touch

Pyro absolutely adores being touched. Especially with how hidden most of its body is. They've had a life of feeling repulsive, like a freak...but to know you love them, all of them, regardless of their body. It makes a part of them feel healed. They love being held too. After a bad day or even a lot of stress, they just, they can't express how much they love the feeling of being cared for.

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Miss Pauling-

Giving: Words of affirmation

Miss Pauling might not have all the time in the world for you, she is a busy woman, but she makes sure you are loved, and thay she tells you that everyday. She's definitely the type to leave sticky notes around that have diffrent compliments and aftermarions on them. You've definitely woken up to one or two on your face when she wakes up in a sillier mood. If she's having a rough morning however, she'll still right nice notes, or before she leaves tell you that she loves and cares for you. If you're having a rough day she'll even try and sneak in a message or two to you giving you confidence. Letting you know you got this, and that she's always here for you. She was never really cheered on as a kid, and now she wants to make sure you know how much you mean to her.

Receiving: Quality time

Again, she might not have all the time in the world, but she does love to spend the time she has free with you. Even doing something simple like laying on the couch is good enough for her. Making time for her when she can't do the same for you, makes her feel...appreciated? In maybe a weird way. She thinks the fact that you can make time for her no matter what is the most amazing thing ever. When you find new things to be able to do, together. She really feels loved.

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I hope you all enjoyed it! Let's hope i didn't mess these up too bad, lol. I may have been writing this from 2am-6:30 am. But I loved writing this one, I just love these guys so much. I hope everyone has a very happy Valentines Day with their loved ones, family, or friends!

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[danisbrainrot]

Teen nat comforting you when you're crying about something hcs?

natalie scatorccio x reader

a/n: we're so back! after the first two episodes of season three dropped I'm inspired by this ask. it's not head canons, sorry, I just liked the idea and wanted to write a little story about it.

sorry this must be at least six months late, but here it is! camp counsellor nat :)

spoilers ahead!! (technically? I think it's just season two spoilers though)

wiping the tears from your eyes, you sniffle into your lap, hunching over to take up as little space as possible. you just wanted to be out of everyone's way, not wanting to ruin the mood with your tears. everyone else was happy and celebrating surviving winter, while you felt stuck. frozen in time, still unable to move on from how much winter took from you girls.

first jackie. then crystal. then javi. . .

now springtime has rolled around, you can't help but feel the same dread you felt throughout winter—yes, it was lovely now and your team has cultivated a livable community. however, you couldn't help but wonder what happens next winter? When akilah's animals freeze to death, gen can't find game. . . when shauna goes crazy again.

you pause, wondering when was the last time shauna was sane. then, guilt creeps in as you realise that you had no right to judge her—not after everything she lost. her best friend. her baby.

"hey, are you okay?" nat asked, crouching down to your level.

you gasp in shock, wiping more tears from your eyes. your cheeks stung with embarrassment at getting caught—nat came out of nowhere, giving you no time to recuperate. "yeah, just. . . needed to let it out."

placing a comforting hand on your back, nat tried to offer you a reassuring smile. "hey, we all understand. it can feel daunting out here. if you ever need someone to talk, I'm here."

"oh I know, your majesty," you tease, eliciting a snort from nat—you could tell she hated the title. you sigh gently, signalling you were okay. nat pats your thigh, standing up when suddenly your hand flings out to grab hers. "do you think we're awful people? for eating javi? and jackie?"

nat pauses, her face dropping significantly. she bites her bottom lip, which you find insanely attractive, before shrugging. "we did what we had to. . . to survive."

"but if that's what it takes to survive, do we deserve to?" you question, clutching nat's hand firmly. the brunette looks down at you, her expression unreadable, before shaking her head.

"all I know is that it should have been me. javi. . . I still don't believe in lottie's bullshit about the forest, but I will never forget his sacrifice."

you nod, realising your questions were hurting natalie more than you'd meant for them to. you drop your hand, resting it in your lap and watch her walk away.

she swivels her head to look at you, words on the tip of her tongue, before she shakes the thought away and walks away.

late that night, you hear a rustle outside your makeshift hut. turning to your roommate, you find gen fast asleep, so you decide to investigate by yourself. you follow a sliver of light, someone's back to you as they watch the small flames dance.

"shouldn't you put that out? it's late," you ask, sitting next to nat on the campfire log. she glances at you, her face enchantingly illuminated by the flames, taking your breath away.

"just thinking," she mumbles.

"about our conversation before?" you ask, eliciting a nod in response. you stare at the fire, wondering if it was the heat from the dying flames that burnt your cheeks or the way nat looked.

"you didn't chase me. why?" she whispers, not daring to look you in the eyes.

"when we ate jackie, it felt different. . . she was already dead and we didn't cook her, the snow did. sure, it was cannibalism but it wasn't murder. . . if I had chased you—"

"you'd have actively tried to hunt me," she replies.

"it seemed wrong, even for us," you answer.

there was a beat of silence while you watch her gaze into the flames. you felt your heart race in your chest, working up the courage to tell her what you want to say, "it goes both ways," you promise. she looks up at you confused, "if you need someone to talk to, I'm here for you. . . and I'm sure it's not easy as the antler queen, especially with whatever shauna and mari have going on."

nat erupts into laughter, shaking her head. "don't get me started on those two," she replies, before her laugh fades to a small smile. she places her hand on your shoulder, "but I like the idea. we look out for each other."

"You'll be the queen and I'll be your—wait what is it called. . . the people royalty lean on for support. . . oh, concubines?" your face drops when you notice nat's face. her eyebrows are raised and tries to cover her mouth and stifle her laughter.

nat can no longer hold it in and burst into laughter again, "that doesn't mean what you think it does," she teases.

"oh, that's the sex one. isn't it?" you mutter, lowering your head to avoid her gaze. nat tucks her hair behind her ears, making you think about how she managed to rock the grown out look. she suited blonde, brunette and a combination of both.

nat notices you watching her intensely, "what? is there something in my hair?" she asks, raking her hands through it swiftly.

"no, no. just wondering if you miss the blonde?"

"well, it's still there, isn't it?"

you snort, "yeah, but the full blonde?"

nat shrugs, "more important things to worry about," she replies candidly.

you reach out to play with the blonde hair, twirling it around your finger. unknowingly, you'd accidentally brought her face closer to yours. she didn't seem to mind, but once you realise your cheeks burn and you shuffle away from her. "sorry," you mumble.

"come here," she replies, grabbing the back of your head and pulling you close.

your lips connected seamlessly, like your lips were made for each other. she kisses you softly, a reassurance that she was here for you, while her fingers tangle themselves in your—already tangled—hair.

after what felt like only a minute—but could have been longer—nat gently pulls away, a string of saliva all that connected you two. she runs her thumb over your bottom lip, cleaning away the evidence, and offers you a wonky smile. "I suppose every queen needs her concubine after all," she jokes.

"that was amazing," you whisper, still in awe. she laughs again, resting her forehead against yours.

[blubunz]

OBSESSION, INFATUATION, CONFESSION

— leon s. kennedy x gn! reader

Tags: the title says it all actually.

A/N: I'll work on other fics and stuff later I promise! Been busy lately and my period does not help lmao grah omg,, so I only have a short little thing for you guys :(

Leon who views himself as tainted, a hollow shell of a man, a weapon only to serve the government and protecting other tainted people.

He's got no right view of the typical romance he'd read or seen. Those typical rom-coms and books are just fictional to him. Well, in his line of work, he doesn't have the mind to view the world as a silly rom-com.

But, he knows what he wants when he sees you. Just a quick meeting, no deep conversation whatsoever yet somehow you have managed to make Leon think he was in highschool again by how his heart is thumping loud and palms sweaty from nervousness.

He doesn't let it show, obviously. But the moment you were gone, his knees crumbled and he has to lean on a wall nearby to steady himself.

God, he's already past his 20s. He's not that young, certainly doesn't look the part. But you make him feel like a teenager, a boy who only worries about impressing his crush rather than bioterrorism.

Day after day, Leon sees you even more radiant, like an angel. He might as well worship you and kiss the ground you walk on. He has to resist that urge, to fall on his knees, begging you to be with him, to hug you and feel your bright aura as he take the wings off to keep you forever with him.

To him, you are everything. Even if his everything should be his job, typically his life depends on it. But not to how Leon sees it. To him, you're providing him air to breathe when you're near. You're giving him a purpose to live his days even more productive, not just throwing himself carelessly here and there just to get things over with.

To you, however, you're not...that special. And you aren't. You're just like anyone else. You're not some hero in a movie, or some angel sent from heaven. You're you. A human with feelings and thoughts about simple things like what to eat, or just getting annoyed at something during your work.

You're aware you're not that crazy, big, admirable figure that everyone knows. Just a nice person doing their best throughout the days.

Yet, Leon's absolutely infatuated with you.

You never noticed it during your usual meetings, but you grow to realise how big of an impact you have on Leon when he's ticked off by the knowledge that you had troubled at work, caused by someone he doesn't even know. It's normal to you, annoying, but normal, everyone has to have a few bad experiences at work. But Leon's fuming, like it was him experiencing it and not you.

And on some random days, you would receive gifts. It's not consistent, but not entirely rare. Seeing a box by your desk every now and then with his initials written on the box. Each time, it was something different, but what they all have in common is that they're all expensive. You already have enough perfume and jewelries by now, with more than enough clothes that you don't need to go shopping anymore. You're slightly scared of how Leon knows your size and what your preferences are.

Nonetheless, you embrace it, and Leon can't be happier. He's an absolute gentleman, doing everything for you as much as he could and treating you to fancy dinners.

He does all of them so easily, but when he finds the perfect time to properly confess to you, he's shaking like a leaf. Leon wants to slap himself at how similar he is to a schoolboy, with you standing before him with a curious expression, and him sweating bullets with a whole paragraph well-constructed in his mind.

His first few words are heavy and shaky. You're almost concerned he'd just cry and run off, but Leon holds himself still, trying to speak his heart out to you.

He freezes when you smile. Honestly, you've predicted it. No one's just nice enough to give you expensive gifts and treating you out like a royal.

“So, is...is it a yes...?”

“Yes, Leon, it is.”

[blakeswritingimagines]

Bless My Soul (DARK SMUT)

Summary: Logan hits a wall when he feels he can't learn more about you from a distance.

Warnings: Dark yandere! Logan, Stranger! reader, PwP, PnV, Rape, Talk of reader being property, Stalking and mention of stalking, Kidnapping?, Ally-way sex, Semi-public sex, Being talked into it, Worship, Cumming inside, No protection, Slight praise. Let me know if I missed and anything and READ AT YOU OWN CAUTION

Word Count: 5.9k

Logan was always a mysterious man, known for his rugged charm and fierce loyalty. But, he had a dark secret. He was a yandere, a man who was obsessed and possessive to the point of madness when it came to the one he loved. He had been watching his darling for weeks. He knew everything about you - your daily routine, your favorite haunts, your deepest secrets. He had watched you with a mixture of love and jealousy. He wanted you all to himself, and he was willing to do anything to make that happen.

Logan sat in the darkened corner of the coffee shop, sipping his coffee and watching you intently. He could feel the fire of obsession burning inside him as he watched you laugh and chat with your friend. He had been following you for weeks, obsessively taking notes on your daily habits, studying your likes and dislikes. He had even broken into your apartment a few nights ago and touched everything you owned, feeling a perverse sense of intimacy with you. You were sitting at your favorite coffee shop with your best friend, enjoying a cup of your favorite coffee, when you suddenly felt a shiver go down your spine. You couldn't explain it, but you had a terrible feeling that you were being watched. You looked around the busy café, but no one seemed to be paying any attention to you. Still, the feeling of being watched persisted, and you couldn't shake the sense of unease that settled over you.

Logan was sitting in a booth in the corner of the shop. To anyone else, he looked like just another customer, sipping coffee and reading the paper. But really, he was watching you. Observing you. He was mesmerized by every little thing about you. The way you laughed, the way you smiled, the way you held your coffee cup. He studied every move you made, taking in every single detail. He was becoming even more obsessed. As you continued chatting with your friend, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as the feeling of being watched intensified. You discreetly looked around, and your eyes landed on Logan sitting in the corner booth. His gaze was fixed on you, intense and unblinking. You tried to ignore him and continue your conversation, but you couldn't shake the feeling that he was studying you, analyzing you like a predator watching its prey. Logan couldn't keep his eyes off you. He watched every little movement you made, every gesture, every expression on your face. He was drawn to you like a magnet, unable to look away. He knew he was being too obvious, but he didn't care. He wanted you to notice him. He wanted you to know that he was watching you, stalking you. He needed you to know that you were his. You and your friend said your goodbyes, and you headed out into the busy street. The feeling of being watched was still there, and you couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that you were being followed. You glanced over your shoulder, but there was no sign of Logan anywhere. You quickened your pace, trying to shake off the feeling of dread that was building inside you. Suddenly, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You spun around to find Logan standing behind you, a small, almost sinister smile on his lips.

"Hello, sweetheart," Logan said, his voice low and rough. He leaned in closer, his gaze fixed intently on you. "You're even more beautiful up close." Logan's smile widened as he saw the look of surprise on your face. He stepped closer to you, invading your personal space. "You really thought you could get away from me that easily, huh?" he said, his voice was low and raspy. You took a step back, feeling a mixture of fear and confusion at Logan's sudden appearance. You tried to keep your composure, but you couldn't hide the shiver that ran down your spine as he moved closer to you. "Who are you?" you asked, trying to sound authoritative, but your voice came out shaky and uncertain. "Oh, don't play coy with me, sweetheart," Logan said, his smile growing wider. He took another step forward, closing the distance between you even further. "You don't recognize me? I'm hurt." He reached out a hand and gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face. His touch was gentle, but the look in his eyes was anything but. You shivered as Logan touched your hair, his touch was possessive and invasive. You tried to back away from him, but he grabbed your wrist in a tight grip, pulling you closer to him. "Let go of me," you said, trying to sound brave, but your voice betrayed the fear that was coursing through you. "Now why would I do that?" Logan said, his voice low and dangerous. "You're mine, sweetheart, and I'm not going to let you go anytime soon." His grip on your wrist tightened and he pulled you even closer, his body pressing against yours. His eyes roamed over your face, taking in every detail as if he was committing you to memory. Logan's eyes gleamed with a twisted excitement as he leaned in even closer to you. "You're mine now," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "And you're never getting away from me." Without warning, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you against him. You tried to struggle, but his grip was strong and unyielding. He began walking briskly through the crowd, dragging you along behind him.

You could feel panic rising in your chest as Logan pulled you through the busy streets. People parted to let him pass, and some even took notice of him dragging you along like a prized possession. You tried to call for help, but he placed a hand over your mouth, silencing you instantly. "Don't even think about it, sweetheart," he said, his voice low and menacing. "You're mine now, and no one can save you from me." Logan led you down an alleyway, away from the prying eyes of the crowd. Once he was sure no one could see you, he pushed you against the wall, pinning you there with his body. His eyes bore into yours with a possessive intensity, and his grip on your wrists was unyielding. "You're mine," he repeated, his voice rough. "And I'll do whatever it takes to keep you here with me, sweetheart." You could feel the cold, hard wall pressing against your back, and the hot breath of Logan against your face. He was so close that you could smell the hint of cologne and cigarettes on him, and it was making you nauseous. You tried to squirm away from him, but his body was like a wall of muscle trapping you in place. Your mind began to race with thoughts of escape, but his iron grip on your wrists only tightened more. Logan leaned closer to you, his face so close to yours that you could feel his warm breath on your cheek. "There's no point in fighting me, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice low and dangerous. "You're mine now, and I'm never letting you go." He moved even closer, his body pressed completely against yours, trapping you against the wall. "You're mine," he repeated, as if trying to drill the idea into your head.

Your heart hammered loudly in your chest, and you could feel sweat beginning to form on your brow. You tried to struggle, to push him away, but his body was too strong, too close. He leaned in even closer, his face inches from yours. "Please," you pleaded, your voice trembling. "You have to let me go. This isn't right." "Oh, but it is right," Logan said, his voice gruff. "You're mine now, sweetheart, and you're going to learn to accept that." He leaned in even closer, his face so close to yours that you could feel his breath on your face. "You're never going to leave me, sweetheart," he said, his voice low and possessive. "You belong to me, now and forever… but maybe I should prove it to you." You shivered as he spoke, the cold intensity in his voice sending chills down your spine. You didn't know what he meant by "proving" it, but you had a sinking feeling that you weren't going to like it. You tried once more to push him away, but his grip on your wrists was unyielding, and he pressed you even harder against the wall. Logan's grip on your wrists tightened even more, and he leaned in even closer, his face scant inches from yours. His eyes were fixed on you, their intensity sending chills down your spine. "You don't know it yet, sweetheart," he said, his voice low and rough. "But you're going to love me, whether you like it or not…" He moved even closer, so close that you could almost taste his breath on your lips. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and your mind was racing with fear and uncertainty. You could feel his breath on your face, hot and uneven, and his body was so close to yours that you were practically melded together. You tried to speak, to say something, anything, but the words wouldn't come out. All you could do was stare into his gaze, trying to keep your composure. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the desire that was so palpable in his eyes. His grip on your chin was firm, almost painful, and he was holding you in place with such intensity that you couldn't look away. You tried to keep your composure, to keep the fear and panic from showing on your face, but every muscle in your body was tense and trembling.

"You're shaking, sweetheart," Logan said, his voice rough. "Are you scared?" he asked, but there was no hint of mockery in his tone. He leaned in even closer, so close that his lips were mere millimeters from yours. "There's no need to be scared," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "I won't hurt you… much." His words sent chills down your spine, but there was something oddly convincing about them. You knew you should be terrified, but there was a small part of you that wanted to believe him, even if it was just for a moment. You could feel his breath on your face, his body pressed against yours, and it was all you could do to keep from collapsing in fear. His words sent chills down your spine, but there was something oddly convincing about them. You knew you should be terrified, but there was a small part of you that wanted to believe him, even if it was just for a moment. You could feel his breath on your face, his body pressed against yours, and it was all you could do to keep from collapsing in fear. Logan noticed the way your body trembled beneath his touch, and a hint of satisfaction flickered in his eyes. He leaned in even closer, his lips hovering just above yours. "Don't be scared, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice low and soothing. "Just let me taste you…" You could feel your resolve beginning to crack, and you were fighting every instinct in your body to keep from giving in to his demand. His words were like a spell, weaving their way into your mind, and you could feel yourself being pulled in by his intensity. You wanted to resist, to fight him off, but something about his tone made you hesitate.

Logan's eyes were like a predator's as he leaned in closer, his gaze intensely fixated on you. His grip on your wrists grew tighter, almost to the point of pain, but he didn't seem to care. He was entirely focused on you, his mind consumed by his desire to claim you as his own. Logan's eyes were wild with excitement as he leaned in closer, his lips just barely touching yours. "You're mine," he growled, his voice low and possessive. "Mine and no one else's." He cupped your face in his hands, his touch firm and unyielding. "No one else is ever going to touch you, ever again. You belong to me, and I'm never letting you go." You could feel the intensity in his touch, in his gaze, and it was making it hard for you to think straight. You wanted to say something, to fight back against him, but the words were caught in your throat. You were so close to him, so close to his body, that you could feel his heart pounding rapidly against your chest. You could feel the power of his words, the possessive desire that radiated off him like a tangible force. It was overwhelming, and you were quickly coming to the realization that there was no escaping him. He was too strong, too fixated on you, and there was nowhere for you to run. You were trapped, and he had no intention of ever letting you go. Your mind was racing with thoughts of escape, but every plan you came up with was quickly dismissed as impossible. You were helpless, completely at the mercy of this man who was obsessed with you to the point of madness.

Logan could feel the fear radiating off of you, and he reveled in it. He loved the way your body trembled in his grip, the way your heart raced in your chest, the way your eyes widened with fear. It all fed his obsession, his possessive desire, and it only made him want you more. As he felt your body tremble in his arms, Logan could no longer resist the urge to make his move. He lunged forward, pulling you against him with a force that took your breath away. His lips crashed against yours in a messy kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth with a possessive fervor. He held you in place, his body pressed against yours, his grip on you so tight that it was almost painful. He kissed you with a hunger that was almost animalistic, his mind completely consumed by the need to claim you. You were powerless against his strength, your body crushed against his as he kissed you with a frenzy that was both terrifying and thrilling. His tongue forced its way into your mouth, exploring every inch of it with an intensity that left you gasping for breath. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, the heat of his desire, and it was almost overwhelming. You tried to struggle, to push him away, but his grip on you was unyielding. You had never experienced something like this before, and you were completely unprepared for the intensity of his desire. His tongue explored your mouth with a possessive fervor. His body was pressed against you so tightly that it was almost suffocating. You tried to pull away, to stop him, but his grip only tightened, and his kiss only deepened. It was as if he was trying to consume you, to claim you as his own in every possible way.

As Logan deepened the kiss, he also became more aggressive and dominant, his teeth grazing against your lips in a way that was almost sadistic. He pulled your body even closer to his, his grip so tight that it was painful, and his kiss became more forceful, more demanding. It was as if he was trying to break you, to make you submit to him completely. His tongue forced its way into your mouth with an intensity that felt almost like an invasion, and he held you in place with an almost brutal strength. The kiss that Logan was laying on you was unlike anything you had ever experienced before. It was not gentle, not loving, but possessive and dominating. Your whole body was on fire, and you were having trouble focusing on anything except for him. His tongue invading your mouth, his teeth grazing your lips, the way he was holding you so tightly, it all felt like a violent assault on your senses. You tried to protest, to push him away, but your words were muffled by the intensity of the kiss, and his grip on you was uncompromising. As Logan's kiss became even more intense, he finally broke away, his breath ragged and uneven. His eyes were wild with desire, and there was a mad gleam in his gaze that sent a shiver down your spine. He didn't give you time to catch your breath before he roughly grabbed your arm and pulled you away from the wall. In one fluid motion, he spun you around and slammed you onto the ground. The air was knocked out of your lungs as you hit the ground hard. You gasped for breath as your body slammed against the ground, the impact leaving you dazed and disoriented. You tried to catch your bearings, but Logan was already on top of you, his body pinning you to the ground. His hands were already at your wrists, holding them tightly on either side of your head. He leaned down so that his face was mere inches from yours, his eyes fixed intensely on you.

Logan's face was so close to yours that you could feel his hot breath against your skin. He loomed over you, his body pinning you to the ground, his grip on your wrists so tight that it was almost painful. His eyes were fixated on you like a predator eyeing its prey. "You're mine," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "From the moment I set eyes on you, I knew you were mine. We were meant to be together, destiny brought you to me, and nothing can change that. You're mine, and I'm never letting you go. You belong to me forever" You could feel the fear gripping you again as he spoke, his words more like a declaration of ownership than a promise of love. He was so obsessed with you, so fixated on possessing you in every possible way, that it was almost impossible to escape. You tried to rationalize with him, to tell him that this was madness, but his eyes were wild with feverish zeal, and there was no reasoning with him. His words echoed in your ears like a prophecy, and you were beginning to feel like there was no way out of this nightmare. Logan's grip on your wrists tightened even more, and his body pressed even harder against yours. You could feel the hardness of his muscles through his clothing, and his body was so close to yours that you could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He leaned in even closer, his face only a few inches above yours. "You're mine," he repeated, his voice almost a snarl. "No one else is ever going to touch you, ever again. You're my possession, my property, and I'm not letting you go." He looked at you with savage intensity, as if trying to tear your soul itself out of your body. The intensity of his gaze was almost unbearable, and you were beginning to feel like you were drowning in his desire. You couldn't escape, you couldn't fight back, you were completely at his mercy. His hold on you was unyielding, his body crushing yours into the ground. "Please," you managed to choke out, your voice a strangled whisper. "Please, let me go."

Logan's grip on your wrists tightened even more, his body pressing even harder against yours. You felt like you were losing control, unable to escape. Your words fell on deaf ears as his only focus was on you. "Never!" he said, his voice rough with desire. "I'll never let you go. You're mine, forever." He looked at you with a crazed intensity, his eyes glittering with a hint of madness. His body pressed harder against yours, and you could feel the hardness of his muscles beneath his clothing. "I guess I just need to claim you in a more physical way, sweetheart," he said, his voice low. His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you knew what was about to happen. You tried to struggle, to fight him off, but it was no use. His grip on you was ruthless, and his body was much stronger than yours. "Please," you begged, your voice shaking. "Please, don't do this." "Stop acting like you don't want this," he said, his voice almost a purr. "I know you do. You want me as much as I want you." His body was pressed so close to yours that you could feel his breath on your skin. "I've seen the way you look at me, sweetheart. You're just as obsessed with me as I am with you." "No," you protested weakly, but your words sounded unconvincing even to your own ears. You tried to deny it, to push away the fact that there was a tiny, traitorous part of you that wanted this, but everything he had said was true. He had seen through you, he had seen the way you had looked at him, he knew the truth. Logan was a mutant, with heightened senses. He could smell the desire emanating from your body, even as you tried to deny it. "Don't bother denying it," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I can smell it on you, sweetheart. You want me just as much as I want you."

You felt a wave of humiliation wash over you as you realized that your body had betrayed you. He was right, you did want him, even if you didn't want to admit it. You had tried to ignore it, to push it deep down inside, but he had seen through you. His heightened senses had picked up on your desire, and it was impossible to deny. "I…no," you said weakly, but your body was already a dead giveaway. "Don't bother denying it," he repeated, his words a soft, low growl. "I can smell your desire, sweetheart. It's intoxicating, and I want to taste every bit of you." He leaned in closer, his body pressing against yours, his grip on your wrists becoming even more intense. "You can't hide it from me," he said, his voice becoming deeper and more possessive. "Your body betrays you, and I know what you really want." You felt a shiver run down your spine, your body responding to his every touch and word. He was right, he knew what you wanted, what you needed, and there was no escaping it. You looked up at him, your eyes wide and pleading. "Please," you whispered, but it was more like a plea of surrender than a request for mercy. Logan's eyes darkened with desire, his body becoming rigid with anticipation. "Please what?" he asked, his voice low and rough. "What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me. Say it." Your mind was reeling, your thoughts a jumble of conflicting emotions. Part of you wanted to resist, to fight back and deny him. But another part, a part that was growing louder with each passing moment, wanted to give in, to submit to him completely. Your body trembled beneath his gaze, and the words spilled out before you could stop them. "I…I want you," you whispered, your voice almost a whimper. A predatory smile crossed Logan's face, and he leaned in even closer, his grip on your wrists becoming almost painful. "Good pet," he growled, his voice low and approving. "That's what I wanted to hear." He pressed his body against yours, his every touch and gesture possessive and dominant. "You're mine now, sweetheart. Completely and undeniably mine."

Your body was responding to his every touch, every word, each one sending a shiver through your body. You knew you were completely at his mercy, vulnerable and exposed to him in every possible way. The fear and desire coiled together in your gut, leaving you powerless to resist his advances. You tried to focus on something, anything other than the intensity of his presence, but it was impossible. You were helpless against his possessive desire. His lips traced a path along your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and little nibbles. "I can taste your desire on your skin," he said, his voice a low growl. "It's intoxicating, and I want more of it." He moved his hands from your wrists to your waist, pulling you even closer to him. "You're mine, sweetheart. And I'm going to take what's mine." You could feel the heat radiating off his body, his desire consuming every part of him. You could hear his ragged breathing, his lips grazing your skin, his hands gripping your waist so tightly it was almost painful. You could feel your own desire growing, and it was becoming harder and harder to resist him. "Please," you whispered, your voice a mix of fear and desire. "Please don't-" He silenced your plea with a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep into your mouth, claiming every inch of you. When he finally pulled away, his eyes were dark with lust. "Shh, baby. Don't fight this. We both know you want this just as much as I do." His hands slid under your shirt, caressing the soft skin of your stomach before moving higher to cup your breasts. He rolled your nipples between his fingers, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. "Your body is betraying you, sweetheart. It's telling me how much it craves my touch." He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "Just give in to me. Let me make you feel things you've never felt before. I promise I'll take good care of you." It was getting harder and harder to resist him, his touch sending waves of pleasure through your body. You knew you should resist, that this was wrong, but the desire was overwhelming. His words and touch were like a siren's song, pulling you in and making it impossible to think straight. "Please," you whispered again, but it was more of a plea than a protest.

He smiled wickedly at your weak protest, knowing he had you right where he wanted you. "That's it, baby. Just let go and surrender yourself to me completely." His hands made quick work of removing your shirt, tossing it aside carelessly. He drank in the sight of your exposed skin hungrily. "Fuck, you're even more gorgeous than I imagined." Leaning down, he captured one of your nipples in his mouth, suckling and biting gently as his hand continued its exploration of your curves. He could feel your body trembling beneath him, could hear the hitches in your breath. It only spurred him on, his own arousal growing with each passing second. "I'm going to worship every inch of you," he promised darkly, trailing open-mouthed kisses across your collarbone. His hands roamed your body possessively, mapping out every dip and curve. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your pants, tugging them down slowly. "Lift your hips for me, sweetheart. Let me get these off you." As soon as there was enough room, he yanked them fully off, leaving you bare and vulnerable beneath him. The cool night air hit your heated skin, making you shiver. But then his large hands were back on you, caressing your thighs, your hips, your stomach. "So fucking perfect," he groaned appreciatively. He settled himself between your legs, his clothed erection pressing insistently against your core. "Can you feel what you do to me? How hard you make me?" He rocked his hips, grinding against you teasingly. "Tell me you want this." His touch was overwhelming, his words sending shivers down your spine. He was so big and powerful, and it made you feel small and vulnerable. But it also made you feel safe, like he was the only thing that mattered in the world. You could feel his excitement, his desire for you, and it was almost too much to bear. "I…I want this," you whispered, your voice shaking. "I want you, Logan."

A triumphant grin spread across his face at your admission. "That's my good pet," he purred, rewarding you with a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue delved into your mouth, claiming you thoroughly. When he finally broke away, his eyes were blazing with hunger. "I'm going to make you feel so good, baby. Better than anyone ever has." He reached down, unbuckling his belt and freeing his impressive length. It bobbed heavily between his legs, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. Positioning himself at your entrance, he rubbed the head of his cock teasingly along your slit, coating himself in your slick arousal. "Beg for it, sweetheart. Tell me how badly you need my cock inside you." Your body trembled with anticipation, aching to be filled by him. You could feel the heat of his cock pressing against your most intimate place, stoking the flames of your desire. "Please, Logan," you whimpered, arching your hips up desperately. "Please, I need you so badly. I need your cock inside me, stretching me, filling me completely. Please, fuck me! Make me yours!" The filthy words spilled from your lips, your inhibitions lowered by lust. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you tried to pull him closer. "I'm yours, all yours. Claim me, ruin me for anyone else. Fuck me until I can't walk straight!" "Fuck yes, that's what I like to hear," he growled approvingly, his eyes darkening with lust at your desperate pleas. With no further hesitation, he thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt inside your tight, wet heat. A guttural moan tore from his throat at the exquisite sensation. "Ohhh fuck, you feel incredible. So goddamn tight around my cock." He set a hard, fast pace right from the start, pounding into you with animalistic fervor. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the alleyway, mixing with your wanton moans and his grunts of pleasure. One of his hands gripped your hip bruisingly tight while the other snaked up to wrap around your throat, not squeezing, just resting there - a dominant reminder of who you belonged to now.

Your mind went blank as he entered you, a scream of ecstasy tearing from your throat. He was so big, stretching you in ways you'd never been stretched before. Each powerful thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, building the coil of tension in your core. Your inner walls fluttered and clenched around his thick shaft, trying to draw him even deeper. "Yes, yes, YES!" you cried out shamelessly, too lost in bliss to care about being quiet anymore. The feeling of his strong hand wrapped around your throat, not choking but simply claiming, only heightened your arousal. You could feel yourself hurtling towards an earth-shattering climax already, your body wound tighter than a bowstring. "Don't stop, please don't stop!" you begged, meeting his brutal thrusts as best you could. He could feel your walls starting to flutter around him, knew you were close. Determined to push you over the edge, he changed the angle of his thrusts slightly, making sure to hit that special spot inside you with every stroke. "That's it, baby. Come for me," he commanded huskily, his voice rough with exertion and pleasure. "I want to feel this pretty pussy squeeze my cock as you cum on it." His thumb found your clit, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive nub. At the same time, he leaned down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking hard as he bit down just shy of pain. The dual stimulation combined with his relentless pounding quickly became too much to bear. "Cum for me," he demanded, his hips snapping forward sharply. "Let go and give me everything." The combination of his words, his skilled touches, and the relentless pounding of his cock pushed you past the point of no return. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your vision whiting out from the intensity of it. "Ahhn, L-logan," you screamed, your voice echoing off the alley walls. Your pussy clamped down HARD on his pistoning cock, rippling and squeezing as it milked him for all he was worth. Wave after wave of pure ecstasy washed through you, your whole body convulsing with the force of it. Tears streamed down your face from the sheer overwhelming pleasure, drool leaking from the corner of your slack mouth. You were completely lost to the sensations, your mind blown to bits, reduced to nothing but a quivering, cumming mess. "S-so good…"

Feeling your pussy clamp down on him like a vice, milking his cock for all it was worth, was almost too much for him to handle. Your screams of ecstasy, the way your body shook apart beneath him, the lewd sounds of your juices squelching obscenely with each thrust - it all drove him wild with lust. "Fuck, just like that! Milk my cock, baby. Take every last drop," he grunted, his rhythm faltering as his own release rapidly approached. With a few more erratic thrusts, he buried himself as deep as possible and let go, painting your insides white with his hot seed. "Ohhhh fuuuck," he groaned long and low, his hips jerking as he emptied himself inside you. You could feel the heat of his release flooding your insides, marking you as his. It seemed to go on forever, spurt after spurt of his potent cum pumping into your spasming cunt. The feeling of being so thoroughly claimed, so completely filled with his essence, sent aftershocks of pleasure zinging through your nerves. You went limp beneath him, utterly spent and satisfied, a dopey smile on your face. "Mmmm…so good," you mumbled dazedly, still floating in the aftermath of your intense high. Your body felt heavy and tingly all over, muscles loose and relaxed. He collapsed on top of you, both of you panting heavily as you came down from your respective highs. He nuzzled into your neck, placing soft kisses along your sweat-dampened skin. "You did so well, baby. Took my cock like you were made for it," he praised, his voice a low rumble against your ear. Slowly, reluctantly, he pulled out of you with a soft groan. A trickle of his cum leaked out of your used hole, and he smirked at the sight. "Look at the mess we made. Such a good pet, taking my load so deep."

He pulled away from you, looking at you with that possessive gleam in his eyes. "You're really mine now," he said gruffly. "And don't you forget it." He ran a hand through your hair, almost tenderly, but the gesture was still possessive and dominating. "I'm gonna mark you as mine, sweetheart again and again until the end of time," he said, his voice gruff again. "I want everyone else to know you belong to me." He was so intense, so possessive, it was almost scary. But there was a small part of you that felt a thrill at the way he claimed you, like you were something special and precious to him. But you tried to push that feeling away, knowing that this was all wrong and you should be fighting against him. "I'm not your possession," you said, your voice a mixture of defiance and fear. He just chuckled, his grip on you not relaxing. "Oh sweetheart, you are very much my possession. You belong to me now, and I plan on keeping you."

"Forever."

[jellypawss]

to cope with withdrawal i start writing some poems again like I did as a child, I used it to process a lot of trauma and forgot I had this hobby tbh lol. I’m definitely not the best writer but sometimes it just feels so therapeutic to just write and process your emotions. 

[seaweedstarshine]

I love Amy's Choice and I love The Day of the Doctor Novelization, but something that only clicked for me recently — is that the reason the Eleventh Doctor is able to instantly recognize and brush past the Dream Lord when he appears — is because for as long as he's had this body, he's been hallucinating the War Doctor’s voice taunting him in a very similar way (minus all the jokes).

Similar like this:

Of course at the end of Amy's Choice, the Doctor sees the Dream Lord reflected in the console, looks distressed, and says nothing, and I just. I love how Moffat used that novelization to flesh out so many different elements he included in his run.

[sherlock-is-ace]

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