#who is to say they would give a moment's hesitation before turning on him as well

[sincerelybubbles]

the team noticing how comfortable shy bau reader has gotten with hotch and they all find it very sweet

Slipping Into the Light warnings: brief mentions of cannon typical violence paring: hotch x shy!bau!reader

||||

The bullpen is its usual brand of chaos—agents moving between desks, papers shuffling, the hum of conversation filling the air. It’s comfortable, routine. Nothing out of the ordinary.

At least, until she walks in.

The team barely notices at first, too caught up in their morning tasks, but then—then, something odd happens.

She walks past Hotch’s office, and without a second of hesitation, she reaches out and knocks twice against the open doorframe—light, quick, easy.

Hotch glances up from his paperwork, and instead of his usual curt nod or unreadable gaze, something soft crosses his face. It’s barely there, a flicker of warmth before he schools his expression. But it’s real.

And then—then—she says, “Morning, Hotch,” like it’s nothing. Like it’s normal.

Not Good morning, sir. Not a quiet, hesitant nod in passing. No, just Morning, Hotch, said with the kind of familiarity that suggests it isn’t the first time.

He returns it with a quiet, “Morning,” like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

And that’s when the team starts paying attention.

Morgan’s head tilts up first, brows knitting together. Emily, mid-sip of her coffee, pauses with the cup just short of her lips. Reid frowns at the exchange like it’s a puzzle he hasn’t figured out yet. Rossi just smirks.

The door to Hotch’s office closes a moment later, and she moves toward her desk, entirely unaware of the looks being exchanged across the room.

Emily recovers first, setting her coffee down and leaning toward Morgan. “Morning, Hotch?”

Morgan shakes his head, almost in disbelief. “That’s not normal, right? She doesn’t talk to anyone like that. Not even me,” he points out, sounding offended. “And I’ve been workin’ on breaking her out of that shell for years.”

Reid blinks, clearly running through past conversations in his head. “She’s never greeted me like that before, either.”

“Or me,” Emily agrees, before throwing a glance toward Rossi. “You?”

Rossi just takes a slow sip of his coffee, unreadable.

“Something’s up,” Morgan mutters.

Emily hums in agreement. “Something.”

||||

It happens again the next day.

And the next.

And the next.

Each time, it’s something small—something easily overlooked if you aren’t paying attention. But they are paying attention. Because once profilers start noticing something, it’s impossible to stop. It becomes a game between Emily and Morgan, noticing the small ways you've warmed up to Hotch.

Easier smiles, passing him in the plane when you would usually wait for a larger gap, conversations continued when he walks into the room rather than screeching to a halt like before.

It's nothing massive to the untrained eye but, well, they are trained to notice breaks in patterns, to see when things change and how they do.

Like today.

Hotch walks into the bullpen, coffee in hand, heading straight for his office. Nothing unusual there. But as he passes by her desk, she glances up from her file, eyes flicking toward his cup.

“Did you eat?” she asks, casually—too casually.

Hotch slows just a fraction, just enough for the team to catch it. “Not yet.”

She hums, glancing at the time. “Bagel shop’s still open. They have fresh bread until nine.”

“I’ll be fine,” Hotch assures, but he lingers. Just for a second.

She gives him a pointed look before returning to her file. “Mm.”

That’s it. That’s the whole exchange. And yet—

Morgan immediately turns toward Emily. “You seein' this?”

Emily nods, hiding a grin behind her coffee. “Oh, I’m seeing it.”

Reid, who has been diligently pretending not to be part of this entire conspiracy, clears his throat. “I mean, she could just be concerned about his health?”

Morgan gives him a look as Emily snorts. “She’s never told us to eat.”

“She’s never told anyone to eat,” Morgan mutters, shaking his head. “Except Hotch, apparently.”

Spencer frowns slightly, watching as Hotch disappears into his office. Then he looks back at her, catching the way she glances one more time at the closed door before focusing back on her file.

“Okay,” he admits. “That was weird.”

“Thank you,” Emily says, throwing her hands up.

Morgan shakes his head, settling back into his chair. “I’m just saying, that’s not nothing.”

||||

It happens again later that evening, this time in the briefing room.

They’ve wrapped the case, a particularly grueling one, and now it’s the slow process of debriefing, paperwork, and waiting for the jet to be refueled in case they actually need it tomorrow - they've been able to help over the phone today but everyone is certain tomorrow will bring a tragedy the necessitates travel tomorrow or the day after. The team is scattered around the table—some flipping through reports, others making half-hearted attempts at conversation, everyone running on fumes.

She's tucked into the corner of the room, curled over a file, her pen tapping absently against the paper. If she stops moving, she’ll fall asleep. And she doesn’t have the energy to be embarrassed about that.

The door opens, and Hotch steps in. The conversation dulls, but only slightly—it’s always like that when he walks in. Not because they’re afraid of him, but because his presence naturally shifts the atmosphere.

She barely looks up. “Coffee?” she asks, already moving to stand.

Hotch shakes his head. “I got it.”

She pauses, then settles back down, flipping a page. “Okay.”

That’s it. No hesitation, no stammering, no overthinking the fact that she offered in the first place. Just easy.

And that is very interesting.

Morgan narrows his eyes slightly, tilting his head as he watches her. It’s subtle—probably something even she hasn’t noticed—but there’s no way in hell he’s imagining it now.

The old her would’ve never spoken to Hotch without being spoken to first. Would’ve never offered him something so casually, so easily, like it was second nature.

And Hotch—

Hotch, who usually doesn’t acknowledge small gestures like this, doesn’t even bat an eye. Doesn’t make a comment, doesn’t pause, doesn’t do anything other than react without thought.

Which means this isn’t the first time it’s happened.

Emily catches Morgan’s look and raises a brow. You seeing this?

Morgan smirks. Oh, I’m seeing it.

They share a knowing glance, and then—just to test the waters—Emily leans forward, setting her elbows on the table.

“Hey, Hotch,” she says casually. “Since you’re already up, can you grab me one too?”

Hotch glances at her, then at Morgan, who looks far too interested in his answer. He exhales sharply, amused but unamused, and turns toward the door.

“No.”

Morgan barks out a laugh, and Emily grins, triumphant.

And in the corner, she remains blissfully unaware, still flipping through her file, still tapping her pen, still completely oblivious to the way the entire team is slowly piecing this together.

||||

The next moment happens in Rossi’s office.

She hadn’t meant to end up here. It’s late, past the point of pretending she’s being productive, but she told herself she’d finish one more report before heading home. Somewhere along the way, she’d wandered, coffee in hand, and now she’s leaning against Rossi’s doorway, blinking sluggishly at him as he flips through a leather-bound journal.

“Long day?” he asks without looking up.

She nods, then remembers he’s not looking. “Yeah.”

He hums, setting the journal aside. “And yet, you’re still here instead of going home. Or is it that you don’t want to go home?”

“I was going home,” she argues, though they both know she’s lying. “I just… got distracted.”

Rossi leans back, eyeing her with the kind of gaze that makes it impossible to lie. Not that she’s in the habit of lying to him—especially since he’s usually at least five steps ahead of her anyway.

She glances at the clock. 10:42 PM. She exhales through her nose, rolling her lips together.

“You should get some sleep,” he says, but there’s something else in his tone. A lilt. An implication.

She squints at him. “Why do you sound like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you know something.”

Rossi shrugs. “I know a lot of things.”

“Right,” she mutters, narrowing her eyes.

He’s enjoying this. That much is clear. She doesn’t know what he’s enjoying yet, but she’s sure he’ll make her figure it out on her own.

And then—

“Oh.” She blinks. “Wait. No.”

Rossi smirks.

Her stomach flips. “You know?”

He doesn’t answer, just reaches for his glass of scotch, taking a slow, measured sip.

She feels heat creep up her neck, spreading across her cheeks.

He knows.

Which means Hotch told him.

Which means Hotch talked about it.

Which means—

“Relax,” Rossi drawls, interrupting her impending spiral. “It’s not like he gave me a play-by-play. He just mentioned you two had dinner.” He pauses, then grins. “And that it went well.”

She shifts her weight, suddenly too aware of herself. Oh.

It’s not that she thought Hotch would keep it a secret forever, but hearing that he’d told Rossi, that he’d spoken about it in any capacity, makes it feel… real.

More real than the way her heart stuttered when Hotch had smoothed a hand over hers at dinner. More real than the quiet, steady confidence he’d had in their them-ness while she was still fumbling over the weight of it.

Rossi watches her carefully, still amused but softer now. “You okay?”

She nods, pressing her lips together. “Yeah. I just—”

She gestures vaguely, words failing her.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Go home,” he says again, more insistent this time. “And tell Aaron I said you’re welcome.”

She sputters, eyes wide, and Rossi just laughs, already reaching for his journal again.

She doesn’t know if she’s embarrassed or endeared, but as she slips out of his office, warmth tucked into her chest, she thinks maybe it’s a little bit of both.

||||

The moment is small. Blink and you’d miss it.

Hotch is standing by the coffee maker in the break room, pouring himself a cup. She wanders in a moment later, her movements unhurried, her posture looser than usual. The case they’d just wrapped had been rough, but the team was back home, safe, and exhaustion was settling in around all of them like a thick fog.

She steps beside him, reaching for the sugar, only to find his hand already on it.

She blinks up at him.

Hotch smirks, just barely. “You were going to put in two scoops.”

Her eyes narrow. “And?”

He hands her the spoon, ignoring the way the corner of his mouth twitches. “And you always complain that it makes the coffee too sweet.”

She exhales, glaring at him for being right, and scoops one spoonful instead.

“You should get your own coffee if you’re just going to judge mine.”

“I was here first,” he reminds her. "Making my own coffee, not yours."

“I was letting you make mine for me.”

The words are out before she fully registers them, her lips parting slightly at the realization.

Across the room, Morgan and JJ freeze mid-conversation.

Hotch stills, his fingers tightening ever so slightly around the handle of his mug. He watches her, slow and appraising, and then—

He leans in. Not much, but just enough. “You've got me there. Here." Slowly, he places the cup in her hand, a spoonful and a half of sugar poured in, slowly curling her fingers around the mug for her. Pleased at the reaction he so easily brings forth.

And then he walks out, leaving her standing there, fingers curled around her coffee cup, ears burning.

Morgan lets out a low whistle. “Damn.”

JJ, still wide-eyed, elbows him. “Don’t make it a thing.”

“Oh, it’s already a thing,” Morgan mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. “Did you see that? She flirted back.”

JJ presses her lips together, fighting a grin. "Still, not our business." She insists, despite the way warmth curls in her stomach at the thought.

||||

The jet hums beneath them, a steady, soothing vibration. The case had been long and brutal, but it was over, and they were finally on their way home. The team was scattered around the cabin—Morgan and Emily playing cards, JJ half-dozing with her headphones in, and Rossi nursing a glass of something dark.

And her?

She was sitting stiffly in her seat, her arm propped awkwardly against her side, doing a terrible job of pretending she wasn’t in pain.

The gash on her ribs wasn’t deep. She’d already been patched up at the local hospital—stitched, bandaged, and thoroughly instructed to take it easy. But “take it easy” apparently translated to everyone treating her like she was made of glass.

Emily had tried to grab her go-bag for her earlier.

Morgan had asked if she wanted him to get her a drink—when had he ever done that before?

Even Spencer had hovered like a worried sibling, his gaze flicking toward her every few minutes like he was expecting her to keel over.

She could deal with that. What was harder to deal with was the fact that Hotch hadn’t said anything at all.

Not until now.

“You need to rest,” his voice cut through the low hum of conversation, steady, sure.

She looked up from her untouched cup of tea to see him standing in front of her, arms crossed, expression unreadable to anyone who wasn’t her.

She sighed. “I’m fine, Hotch.”

“You’re in pain,” he countered, not unkindly.

“I’m always in pain after a case,” she pointed out, arching a brow.

His lips twitched in a way that was almost—but not quite—a smile. “This is different.”

He knew. Of course, he knew. She should have expected that.

Her shoulders eased just a little. “I just don’t want everyone fussing over me.”

“They’re only fussing because they care.”

She couldn’t argue with that. But still, she rolled her eyes, shifting slightly in her seat—only to wince when the movement tugged at her stitches.

Hotch sighed and sat beside her. “Case in point.”

She huffed, tilting her head back against the headrest, aware of the small, knowing glances being exchanged around the cabin. No one said a word, but she felt it—the way the energy shifted.

Like they were all watching something unfold, something inevitable.

She kept her gaze on Hotch. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance.” His voice softened just enough to make her chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with her injury.

And despite the pain, despite the exhaustion pressing down on her limbs, she found herself... warm.

Because he knew her. Knew when to push and when to step back. Knew how much she hated being coddled, but also knew exactly when she needed to be told to stop pretending she was fine.

It wasn’t suffocating.

It was steady.

It was him.

||||

The bar was too loud, too dimly lit, too full of bodies swaying and pressing together in a way that made her head ache.

She’d never wanted to come, not really. But Morgan had a way of making things sound like a good idea until she was already in them, halfway slumped over a sticky bar top, nursing a drink she barely had the energy to lift.

"You look like you’re about to pass out," Morgan teased, leaning his elbow against the bar beside her.

"Probably," she murmured, not even pretending to refute it.

She was wrecked. The case had been long and grueling, every hour stretching into the next with little more than caffeine and sheer willpower keeping her upright. When Morgan had invited her out, she hadn’t been sure why she said yes—maybe just to avoid thinking too hard about things.

But now, with exhaustion weighing her down and the music pounding too loudly in her ears, she wished she’d just gone home.

Morgan nudged her shoulder. "Alright, lightweight. You eat anything today?"

The question barely registered before she answered, too tired to filter her words. "I had dinner in Hotch's office."

It was out before she could stop it.

Morgan blinked. Then grinned.

"Ohhhh," he drawled, sitting up straighter, eyes lighting up in that way that meant trouble. "That’s why you two have been acting different lately."

She frowned, sluggish. "What?"

"Come on, don’t play coy now. Dinner? With Hotch? In his office? That’s why you’ve been all up in each other’s space. I knew something was up!"

Oh, God.

Her stomach plummeted, warmth flooding her face so fast she thought she might actually faint. "Morgan," she hissed, suddenly far more awake. "I—I didn’t mean—"

"You totally meant," he cut in, smug as hell.

She buried her face in her hands, groaning. "You tricked me into coming here. I’m too tired for this interrogation."

"You’re too tired to lie," he countered, tapping the bar. "And that’s the best time to get the truth."

She let out a long, slow breath, willing herself to cool down, to deflect, to not make this worse. But Morgan was already grinning like he’d won something, like he had all the confirmation he needed.

He leaned in conspiratorially. "So, how was dinner?"

She didn’t even bother answering. Instead, she waved down the bartender. "Two shots, please."

Morgan laughed, clinking his glass against hers when they arrived. "Now that is an answer."

||||

"I'm so sorry," she groans, squeezing her eyes closed against the admission.

Hotch has the nerve to laugh, covering his face with his hand. Red peers up and over his palm where it covers his expression. "I'm not mad," he insists, "just very amused."

"How is this amusing?" She asks, exasperated, turning to pace across his office.

"I've been opening flirting with you for months, almost a year. It's been a running joke, darling. It's amusing because you're only just now getting the heat for it. For reciprocating it."

"Reciprocating!" She exclaims, injust.

"Oh, are you not? Should I clear my calendar for tomorrow, then, cook for just me and Jack?"

She scowls, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. "No," she pouts, voice near a whine. "I just thought you didn't want the team to know anything was up."

"Oh, so something's up between us now?"

Leave it to him to use this moment to tease you, of course. When she first joined the team, Hotch was broody and withdrawn. It hadn't taken long for her to see his exterior crack, the flaws shining beneath.

He appears as a rule follower, a stickler for what's right and just, but he constantly bends for his team, for the victims, for children. And now, for you, he bends so far from that rigid form people perceive him in she has difficulties seeing his stiffness anymore.

Still, moments like these shock her. Aaron Hotchner is a flirt and an expert one at that.

"Maybe!" She concedes, too flustered to wiggle her way out of his trap. "That's not the point."

"I think that's exactly the point." Hotch catches her wrist, halting her pacing. "But it's okay. I don't mind the others knowing that 'something's up' with us."

"Oh my god," she groans, heat in her face nearly as brilliant as her smile.

[neferaskingdom]

Valentine Hotline | LN4

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: Running a Valentine’s hotline was supposed to be fun—until she accidentally helps Bob plan the perfect date… for herself.

Previous | Series Masterlist | Next

The last thing she expected to be doing this Valentine’s Day was running an anonymous emergency hotline for lovesick fools, but here she was—headset on, taking call after call, all in the name of charity. Her best friend had roped her into this, promising it would be “fun,” but so far, all she had done was talk panicked men out of buying last-minute gas station flowers.

Her latest call came in with a hesitant, almost nervous greeting. “Uh… hi. Is this Cupid?”

“That’s me,” she said, suppressing a laugh at the ridiculous alias she’d been assigned. “How can I help you, caller?”

There was a pause before he mumbled, “I need help asking out my crush.”

She smiled, already endeared. “Of course! What’s your name?”

A beat of silence, then—“Bob.”

She snorted. “Bob, huh? Okay, Bob, tell me about your crush.”

Bob sighed dreamily, and when he spoke again, it was with a kind of reverence that made her heart melt. “She’s amazing. Like, so cute, but not in a way that she even realizes. And she’s really smart—like, she remembers the smallest details about people, and she’s kind, too. Like, the kind of kind where she doesn’t even think twice about it, she just does things that make life easier for everyone around her. And she’s so funny, sometimes without even trying. I mean, she makes me laugh over the dumbest things. And—God, she’s way out of my league, but I really, really like her. It’s ridiculous how much I like her.”

Her heart melted. “That’s adorable. Have you spoken to her before?”

“Sort of,” he admitted. “We work together, but I don’t talk to her a lot because… well, I’m afraid I’ll say something stupid. I get irrationally shy around her.”

That piqued her curiosity. “Coworker, huh? What do you guys do?”

“I can’t say too much, or it’ll be obvious who I am,” Bob said quickly.

She nodded, intrigued but respecting his anonymity. “Alright, Bob. First things first, you need to start interacting with her more—test the waters, see how she reacts to you. Start flirting a little.”

“Oh God.”

She laughed. “Relax! I’ll help you. We’ll come up with a plan.”

And so, over the next few days, she helped Bob craft the perfect approach. They planned small conversations, little ways for him to test the waters—compliments, inside jokes, light teasing. He seemed enthusiastic yet nervous, but she assured him he was doing great.

Strangely, around the same time, Lando Norris—someone who had never gone out of his way to talk to her before—started showing up more often. He’d stop by her desk with a cheeky grin, making flirty comments that left her flushed. At first, she chalked it up to him just being friendly, but it kept happening.

“Looking good today,” Lando said one afternoon, leaning casually against her desk.

She rolled her eyes but felt her face warm. “Are you just going around giving out compliments to everyone?”

“Only to the pretty ones.” He winked, and she nearly choked on her coffee.

It was weird. But she couldn’t say she hated it.

A few days before Valentine’s Day, she was finishing up some work when Lando hovered nearby, looking uncharacteristically nervous. He shifted from foot to foot before finally clearing his throat.

“Hey, um… can I talk to you for a sec?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

She turned in her chair, surprised by his serious tone. “Sure, what’s up?”

He exhaled, looking at the floor before meeting her eyes. “I… uh, was wondering if you wanted to go out with me. Like, on a date. For Valentine’s Day.”

Her brain short-circuited for a moment. “Wait. You’re asking me out?”

Lando winced. “I mean, yeah? But you don’t have to say yes, obviously, I just thought—”

She cut him off with a grin. “Lando, I’d love to.”

His eyes widened. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” she laughed.

The relief on his face was almost comical. “Oh. Oh, cool! That’s great. Okay, um, yeah, I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“Sounds perfect.”

He left looking a little dazed but incredibly happy, and she couldn't help but smile to herself.

That night, Bob called her one last time.

“She said yes!” he practically shouted through the phone. “I asked her out, and she said yes!”

She grinned, heart swelling with pride. “Bob! That’s amazing! I told you she’d like you.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you. Seriously, if—no, when—we get married, you’re getting an invite.”

She laughed. “I’ll hold you to that. Have fun on your date, Bob.”

“Thanks, Cupid. You’re the best.”

And with that, her hotline duties were done.

The next evening, she met Lando for their date, dressed in a pretty outfit and buzzing with anticipation. He looked a little nervous, which was unusual for him, but she found it endearing. The restaurant was charming, the table setup romantic—candles, her favorite flowers, the works.

She took one look at it all and hesitated. The setup felt oddly familiar. Too familiar.

The restaurant. The flowers. The exact order of events.

Her stomach flipped as a ridiculous but nagging thought entered her mind. She looked at Lando, who was focused on cutting his steak, completely unaware of her staring.

“This is going to sound weird,” she began slowly, watching his reaction, “but do you know someone named Bob?”

Lando’s knife froze mid-slice. His head snapped up so fast she thought he might get whiplash. “W-what?”

She gaped at him. “Oh my God. You’re Bob, aren’t you??”

Lando opened and closed his mouth like a fish, looking utterly horrified. “H-how do you—how do you know that?”

She let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Because I’m Cupid.”

Lando choked on his water, coughing as his eyes widened in horror. “No. No way.”

“Yes way,” she said, grinning at his absolute mortification. “I can’t believe I spent days coaching you on how to flirt with me.”

Lando groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Oh my God. I’m never living this down.”

She reached across the table, placing her hand over his. “Lando.”

He peeked at her between his fingers. “Yeah?”

She smiled softly. “So… all those sweet things you said about your crush… they were actually about me?”

Lando groaned again, face going bright red. “I—uh—maybe?”

She felt her heart flutter, warmth spreading through her chest. “That’s honestly the sweetest thing ever.”

Lando let out a breath, rubbing his temples. “You must think I’m such a loser. Calling a hotline of all things just to figure out how to ask you out.”

She shook her head, squeezing his hand. “No. I think it’s endearing. You went out of your way to make sure you got it right. You wanted it to be perfect. That’s really, really sweet.”

He looked at her, expression softening. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Their dinner was filled with laughter and easy conversation, and by the time he walked her to her door, she felt lighter than ever. He hesitated on her porch, shoving his hands into his pockets. “So, uh… goodnight?”

She rolled her eyes, stepping closer. “Goodnight, Bob.”

Before he could groan again, she kissed him, soft and sweet, smiling against his lips as he melted into it. When she pulled away, he was grinning like an idiot.

“Best Valentine’s Day ever,” he murmured.

She laughed. “Yeah. I think so too.”

[seumyo]

IDIA SHROUD ✰ THE BOUQUET

Let’s just say that your boyfriend wasn’t as subtle with gifts as he might think he is—

“Oh, holy Seven—that’s a bouquet that’s the size of an ogre!”

Yeah, scratch that, your boyfriend knows how to make his gifts known. Not even the slightest intention to tone it down or even conceal it, nope.

You could only blink in surprise as the large bouquet of pastel flowers was thrust into your arms the moment you set foot outside your classroom. Though you had to admit that the petals that were soft pinks and creamy whites are elegantly arranged with delicate ribbons that cascaded down like vines.

So pretty.

Pretty expensive.

“For [Name]!” The messenger gave you a quick nod before hurrying off, leaving you standing there in stunned silence. You noticed a note nestled between the delicate petals, the familiar, neat handwriting (that was annoyingly tiny) unmistakable:

I figured real flowers are better than virtual ones. Happy Valentine’s Day <3 You deserve pretty things IRL too /ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹ – Idia

The message made you smile. Trust Idia to go overboard, even when he refused to leave his dorm room today. You could almost imagine him, huddled over his desk, blue flames flickering with anxiety as he double-checked his order online.

“Ne, those are beautiful!” one of your classmates exclaimed, eyes wide with awe. “Who sent them?”

You hugged the bouquet closer, your heart racing. “My boyfriend,” you tried to sound casual, but the warmth blooming in your chest made it hard to keep a straight face. The collective gasps of your classmates only added fuel to the fire.

Yes, you and Idia have mastered the art of keeping your relationship private. Intimate.

You hurried down the hallway, the scent of fresh flowers lingering behind you. As you made you way to your dorm, you couldn’t help but think of all the little things Idia had done for you. Last week, you found a box of rare sweets from the other side of the globe outside your door. He texted you that he heard they were popular in some dating sim and figured you’d enjoy them. The week before that, you received a plushie modeled after one of your favorite video game characters.

He was always thoughtful in his own quirky way. But flowers... in public? This was bold. Next level. Even for him. Even if he wasn’t physically the one to give them to you.

You placed the bouquet on your desk, admiring the delicate petals. You traced your fingers over the soft petals. You could picture him now, nervously pacing in his room, overthinking every detail—probably wondering how you reacted. If you didn’t say something soon, he’d probably be up all night worrying about your reaction.

But let’s be honest, Idia has enough gadgets and technical equipment to see your exact reaction even if he was on the opposite side of the planet.

Without a second thought, you made your way to the Ignihyde dorm. Access was by no means that difficult because as long as there’s a secret passage, there’s a way. The eerie blue glow of the dimly lit hallways was familiar by now, but it still sent a chill down your spine. You stopped outside his door, hesitating for a moment before knocking gently.

A specific pattern that only he would recognize to know that it was you (as if you hadn’t already sent him a text that you were coming over minutes earlier).

There was a shuffle on the other side, followed by a muffled, “Just a sec!” The door creaked open a bit, and you saw Idia’s golden eyes peeking out, softening when he saw you. “Hi.”

“Real flowers are better than virtual ones, huh?”

His face turned bright pink, the blue flames of his hair subtly matching the hue of his face. “Well, uh—you liked them, right?”

You laughed softly, stepping inside his room. “They’re beautiful. You didn’t have to go this far, though.”

“W-Was it too much?! I knew it… I should’ve just sent a text—or a digital sticker—maybe a GIF. This is why I never do real-life stuff—”

“Idia.” Your voice was gentle, your eyes warm. “I love them. Really. Thank you. It was sweet of you.”

His shoulders relaxed, relief washing over his face as he let you hold his face with your hands. So soft and tender. Idia’s tempted to have you this close forever.

Oh, god.

He’s been reduced to a sap. Like one of those helpless, pathetic male leads that just admires his female love interest for the rest of his days—putting her on a high pedestal. Not that he’d mind that.

“Oh, good. I was worried you’d think it was cringe or something... like... NPC-level cringe.”

“I’d never think that. Besides, it was… romantic.”

“Huh.” He sounded as though in thought, though most coherent thoughts are currently unavailable the moment your face is so close to his. “Does that raise our relationship stats by 10%?”

“Mhm, I guess you could say that. No one’s ever given me flowers before.”

“Wait, seriously? But you’re—I mean—you’re like—goddess-tier…” His face flushed, his pout making itself known. “No one before me ever thought of it before? Those normies are blind and stupid.”

You laughed. “Well… I’m glad it was you.”

Silence hung between you, warm and serene like Idia’s hair supposedly. Your boyfriend’s gaze softened, his expression overflowing with what’s known to be love.

“I’m happy it made you happy.”

“It did. More than you know.”

Before Idia could second-guess himself, he leaned in and pressed a soft, chaste kiss on your lips. The moment was quick, fleeting, but the feeling sent you tiny waves of electricity.

This side of him was rare. So maybe it really went off on the right occasion.

Idia’s entire face turned bright red, his hair blazing in a burst of pink. He stumbled back, his back hitting the door with a thud. “I— uhm—sorry! I got ahead of myself, ugh... I should’ve asked.”

You laughed, your heart contented and at ease with his reaction. “It’s fine, it’s fine! Happy Valentine’s Day, Idia.” You waved to your boyfriend, knowing that you had to finish a few more schoolwork before the day was over. “And thank you, again. I love them.”

You turned to leave. Idia stood frozen at his door, his heart pounding, face still burning. He must have a fever by now—probably went over new high temperatures. As the door slowly closed, he slumped against it, his hands covering his face.

“G-Goddess-tier event… unlocked… SSR rarity,” he murmured, his hair flickering with excitement. He replayed the scene over and over in his head, cheeks still red.

The bouquet was just to start.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[shockercoco]

Better Late Than Never

Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings - fluff, some kissing, Valentine’s Day shenanigans, flirty!Bucky

Word count - 2167

a/n - Happy Valentine’s Day everyone, especially to all my fellow single readers! I’ve somehow ended up in my Sebastian Stan era again, so I thought why fight it. It’s been a while since I’ve written an imagine, and I’m feeling a little rusty, but I hope you all enjoy and thanks in advance for reading :)

“What’s got you smiling so much?” You ask Wanda as she sits down across from you.

It was Wanda’s idea to meet up for lunch after finding out about the rough morning you had, and she had also told you that she had some good news to share that might cheer you up. 

You had woken up late for work, couldn’t find your car keys, and when you reached the halfway point on your journey to work, you realized you didn’t have your phone. Today just wasn’t your day.

“Remember how I said I had some good news?” Wanda asks, her smile huge as she leans in and rests her elbows on the table. When you nod, she continues. “Well, Vision surprised me at work and finally asked me to be his girlfriend! He brought me flowers and everything.”

Yeah, today just really wasn’t your day.

“That’s really great, Wanda, but how exactly is that supposed to cheer me up?” you question, giving her a small smile to soften your words.

“Because you were the one who suggested that I should confess my feelings to him, and you’ve pretty much been with me every step of the way,” Wanda tells you. Her expression then turns into confusion. “Is something wrong?”

You honestly were really proud and happy for Wanda, and if this were any other time of the year, your reaction would’ve been different. But it’s not. Valentine's Day is at the end of the week and you just want the week to be over with.

While you were walking down the street on your way to the restaurant, you walked past a woman getting proposed to in the park. While you were waiting for the light to change in order for you to cross the street, you saw a couple making out. As you walked past a street vendor selling flowers, you overheard the vendor making conversation with a man who was apparently looking for the right flowers to buy his crush. Now, Wanda hits you with this.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” you quickly shake your head. “I’ve just had a weird day.”

She looks at you for a moment longer, not fully believing you. “Hmm, there’s something else. Tell me.”

You let out a laugh. “Wanda, I’m fine. It just…it’s nothing really. I’m good.”

“It’s just what?” Wanda asks. When you hesitate again, she adds, “We’re not ordering until you tell me what’s up,” she smirks at you. 

A small groan leaves you, before you speak up, “It’s just that Bucky hasn’t asked me to be his valentine yet, and this is our first Valentine’s Day as a couple. It stupid, I know. I shouldn’t even be upset.”

“No, it’s not stupid. Have you mentioned how you feel to him?”

“No, I didn’t think I had to since he’s always surprising me with gifts any other time of the year. I just figured this would just happen naturally, but nothing yet.”

“I’m sure you have nothing to worry about. After all, it’s still the beginning of the week. Who knows, he could just be waiting for the actual day to come,” Wanda says, and when you don’t say anything, she places a hand on top of yours and continues, “I’d honestly be surprised if Bucky does absolutely nothing for you. Everyone knows how obsessed he is with you.”

That makes you smile. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am, and when Valentine’s Day comes and he still hasn’t asked you to be his valentine, call me, I’ll hunt him down,” Wanda tells you right as a waitress walks up to the table to take your guys’ order. She catches the end of Wanda’s sentence and has a confused, yet amused look on her face. “Sorry, just relationship problems.”

The waitress laughs as she says, “Don’t worry I understand.”

Later that night when you're at Bucky’s place for a movie night the two of you had planned the week before, you can feel Bucky looking at you repeatedly while your eyes are still on the screen. You’re cuddled up into his side with his arm wrapped around you, but you still notice the constant shifting of his head.

You finally give in and look up at him. “Is there something on my face?” you ask him, your tone teasing.

Bucky’s confused with your question. “No, why?”

“Because you keep looking at me.”

“What, I can’t admire my own girlfriend anymore?”

“It feels more like staring than anything,” you tell him, and Bucky just laughs.

“Well, then I’m sorry,” Bucky apologizes as he places a hand on your cheek to lift your head up. He leans down to place a gentle kiss on your lips, a smile still tugging on the corner of his lips. When he pulls away, he still keeps the distance between the two of you small as he looks into your eyes.

“Seriously, what is it?” you whine as you playfully shove him away from you, causing him to laugh. He knows how much you hate it when he does that. “Is there something bugging you?” you casually slide in the question, slightly hoping that he would use this time to ask you to be his valentine.

“No, there isn’t,” he laughs and pulls away, turning his attention back to the screen, but keeping his arm still wrapped around you. “I’m done, I promise.” 

He misses the slight drop in your expression, but you quickly fix your face before looking back at the tv as well.

As the week goes on, you try to focus on more important things, but as Friday continues to get closer, your hope continues to diminish. You and Bucky continue to text normally throughout the week, but when Thursday afternoon comes Bucky calls you to let you know that he’ll be going on a mission the next day. On Valentine’s Day.

“I’m sorry it’s such short notice, doll, but Steve needs me,” you hear Bucky softly tell you through the phone. You’re sitting on a chair in front of your window watching people pass by with Bucky on speaker.

“Oh, no it’s okay, I understand,” you say, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice. “How long will you be gone?”

There’s a moment of silence on the other end, before Bucky speaks, “A couple of weeks.”

Weeks? 

Your heart drops at his answer and you feel your throat start to tighten. You quickly mute yourself to clear the tears from your throat, before unmuting.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” he asks, noticing your delayed response. 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be? There’s people out there that need you,” you speak up.

You catch sight of your neighbor’s boyfriend walking up to her house with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. You momentarily forget you’re on the phone and unintentionally let out a frustrated sigh at the sight, catching Bucky’s attention.

“Listen, I can probably get out of it. I’m sure Steve doesn’t need me that bad, there’s a whole team of people that are available to help out.”

A sad laugh leaves you. “Bucky it’s fine, I promise. He’s your best friend and he specifically asked you because he wants you, so go.”

“If you insist,” you hear Bucky sigh “I know you’re upset, though, so I promise to make it up to you when I get back, okay?”

That makes you crack a smile. “Okay.”

When the next day rolls around, you take your time getting out of bed. Unfortunately, you had the day off today, which of course you would’ve been happy about under different circumstances. 

You decide to keep yourself busy and do some chores to pass time, but by the time you’re done cleaning every crevice and doing laundry, it’s only four in the afternoon.

At some point, Wanda calls to check up on you and asks if you wanted her and Vision to come over and have dinner with you. Vision was planning on cooking for just the two of them, but he told you he had no problem making more. Although the two of them both repeatedly insisted they didn’t mind making the drive to your place, you declined.

It felt wrong to intrude on a special night like tonight. 

After telling Wanda and Vision that you would just order in, the two of you finally end the call.

You weren’t currently that hungry so you decided to just order something later. You make yourself comfortable on the couch and decide to put on a tv show you’ve been wanting to watch. 

A couple episodes later, you finally start to get hungry, and right when you’re about to place an order, your doorbell rings. You shake your head thinking it was just Vision and Wanda coming to share their food, but as you look through the peephole to see Bucky standing outside holding a bouquet of flowers and a stuffed animal you had been wanting, your heart drops along with your jaw.

You look down at your outfit and contemplate quickly changing, but decide against it.

“Wh-what are you doing here? I thought you had to go on a mission?” you ask when you open the door.

“Surprise!” Bucky greets you with a bright smile. He leans in to give you a kiss, before whispering, “Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart.”

Bucky can see that you’re still shocked and at a loss for words, so he just laughs as he pushes past you and makes his way inside. You close the door behind him and watch as he makes his way into the kitchen and lays the flowers on the counter along with the stuffed animal.

“As much as I’m happy that you’re here, why are you here?” your eyebrows are furrowed as you lean against the counter, your arms folded across your chest. 

Bucky sends you a smirk as he quickly puts the flowers in water before making his way over to you. He places his hands on your waist as closes the distance between you two.

“You didn’t really think that I’d miss our first Valentine’s Day together, did you?”

“I didn’t even think you remembered, I mean you haven’t said anything about it all week,” you tell him.

“Yeah, Wanda told me you were a little upset,” Bucky mentions and your eyes widen.

“What a traitor, she wasn’t supposed to say anything,” you say slightly embarrassed as you look off to the side. Then a thought hits you, and you look back at him. “Wait, did you just come here because of what Wanda told you?”

“No, I was already planning on coming here tonight.”

“But what about your mission?” you ask, still confused.

Bucky smiles. “There never was a mission, doll. I made it up because I wanted to surprise you. You really thought I would spend today with Steve instead of you?”

“...Well, he is your best friend.”

“That’s true,” Bucky nods, grabbing your hands in his and placing kisses on your knuckles, “but, you’re my best girl,” he whispers as he looks into your eyes, causing butterflies in your stomach and your face to heat up.

What were you upset about again?

A chuckle leaves Bucky as he watches you shyly smile as you look away.

“You could’ve at least said something this whole week,” you tell him.

“I know, I know,” he admits, “but I was trying to get everything together.”

“Get what together?” you ask.

Bucky stays silent for a moment as if trying to find the right words to say. Then he says, “I want you to move in with me.”

Your eyes widen and your breath hitches as you stare back at him. “What?”

Maybe you inhaled too many chemicals while cleaning.

“I want you to move in with me,” Bucky repeats. “I know we’ve been dating for less than a year and I completely understand if this is too fast for you, but there’s plenty of room for you at my place and I would be much happier if I was able to have you next to me when I wake up every morning.”

Oh. 

You blink.

“You’re serious?” you ask, even though there's no indication on his face to tell you he’s lying. 

Bucky lets go of your hands to place his on either side of your face. “Completely. Like I said, you’re my best girl.” He watches a smile slowly form on your lips. “So, what do you say?”

“Yes,” you say, and Bucky’s grin grows wider, but you hold your hand up. “Don’t start smiling yet, I wasn’t finished.”

Bucky quickly fixes his face and tries to suppress his excitement. “Of course, continue.”

“I say yes, only if you agree to never pull anything like this ever again.”

“Ever?” Bucky repeats, raising an eyebrow.

“Bucky!” you playfully hit his chest.

“I’m just kidding,” he laughs, leaning in to kiss you. Then he pulls away just enough to murmur against your lips, “I’ll just wait until you forget.”

Like what you see? check out my masterlist :)

[strwbrychffoncke]

"cuando te vi sentí ,por fin ,que encontré algo real,, 1.5k words synopsis: you can't help but reminisce on the time back then when you met for the first time ,and realize that zayne has really only ever been the only one for you contains: childhood lovers! lnds zayne x mc!reader ,made-up childhood meeting between zayne + you ,caleb mention ,implied childhood crushes ,reader is making macarons ,you just reminisce + find your appreciation for zayne all over again note: (mostly edited!) played w sm ideas for this concept so hopefully the feeling is conveyed well? if theres any inaccuracies well lets just call this an au of some sort lolol :x

-

when you think back to your first encounter with zayne when you were children, you can't help but to laugh at yourself.

you remember how nervous you were to approach him, often observing and admiring him from afar before being urged by caleb to talk to him, and only then did you build up the courage thanks to him.

even then, he had caught you off guard that day after you had so carefully planned everything out.

. . .

zayne li had piqued your interest the first time you'd laid eyes on him.

it had taken you awhile to strike up conversation, spending a lot of time watching him from your window out of curiosity for the new boy that had moved in. you often noticed him either studying, reading something, or taking nature strolls through the afternoons.

it was peculiar, you thought, that you never saw him paying much mind to talk or hangout with the other kids. there were a good amount in this neighborhood, but it almost seemed like he'd avoided them, preferring to keep to himself (and his studies, you supposed).

he was a stark difference from caleb, the most popular kid on the block who would go out of his way to hang out with anyone who was willing, often inviting you along as well to do whatever he pleased that day.

noticing that others went out of their way less and less to invite zayne to hangout thanks to the continuous refusals, you asked caleb one day why that was.

"oh, zayne? well... i've tried a couple of times. he usually shakes his head or says he's working on his studies."

"what about when the others invite him?"

"well, the other kids make me go because they say he looks scary and like he doesn't wanna be bothered, y'know?"

"maybe he's just shy," you try to reason with him.

caleb ruffles your hair affectionately.

"maybe, pipsqueak. i'm sure with enough asking, he'll turn up one day."

a moment of silence passes and he speaks again.

"hey, wait, you haven't really talked with him yet, have you pipsqueak?"

you look down, shaking your head.

"well, why don't you ask him to hang out next time? maybe you'll be enough to convince him!"

"hm? why do you say that?"

caleb grins.

"no one could resist your cute face," he teases, pinching your cheek. at your whine of protest, he only laughs before letting go.

"try it tomorrow, just talk to him. i'm sure it'll work out!" he beams, giving you a thumbs up.

you nod, mind racing at the thought of finally speaking with zayne.

-

your heart is racing when you leave your home to make the short trek to zayne's house just a little ways away.

you take small steps, whispering words of encouragement to yourself and reminding yourself to be extra polite since you'd heard from caleb he was older than the both of you.

once you arrive at the front door, you hesitate, staring at the large wooden barrier: the only thing keeping you away from seeing zayne face-to-face.

you momentarily wonder if ringing the doorbell or knocking would be better before settling on knocking. you take a deep breath, raising a small fist to the door—

"did you need something?"

you practically jump out of your skin, surprised yelp leaving your throat at the sound of an unfamiliar voice.

you look back and forth before turning around, meeting face-to-face with none other than the boy you'd come here to meet.

zayne li.

you blink up at him, finally seeing him up-close for the first time.

he's a little taller than you, dressed fairly casual for the day in a plain button up and cargo shorts, black-rimmed glasses framing his round face, a book under one arm and dark hair neatly trimmed, green eyes staring curiously back into yours.

"they're not here right now."

you blink again at the sound of his soft voice invading your ears once more.

"huh?" you tilt your head.

"my parents, they're not here right now. they're at work," he says matter-of-factly. "you probably came to talk to them, right?"

you quickly shake your head.

"no! i came to talk to you," you clear up.

"me?"

"mhm. i see you a lot, but i haven't come to talk to you yet."

"oh."

"i'm y/n! its nice to meet you, zayne!"

your introduction is accompanied by a polite little bow, and zayne finds himself grinning at the enthusiastic yet shy approach.

"its nice to meet you," he returns, bowing back in return.

standing upright again, you point to the book he's holding.

"what were you reading?"

"oh, this?" zayne takes the book in his hands, turning the cover towards you so you can read it for yourself.

you lean forward, squinting your eyes at trying to read some complicated mix of words you haven't seen before.

"part of my studies," he mumbles when he notices your trouble at sounding out the words.

"this looks.... hard," you sulk, leaning back and looking up into his eyes. "do you find it fun?"

zayne absentmindedly flips through the pages with a thumb.

"its interesting to me," he comments, glancing at the small words on each page.

"oh, ok," you nod, though the look in your eyes tells zayne you don't really get it.

he wants to laugh, but holds it back.

he thinks about what else to say when you jump up again, wide eyes looking into his.

you seem to have remembered your reason for stopping by here in the first place.

"oh! caleb said you should play with us sometime!"

"oh?"

"yeah!" you step closer, hands subconsciously latching onto his arm.

"i noticed you don't really play with the other kids, but he— but i.. wanted you to join us sometime...."

your voice grows quieter with each word, suddenly growing shy at your own honesty.

"but! you don't have to. you're always studying, but i... really wanted to ask you, so...."

your eyes trail down to where you're latched onto zayne's arm.

"oh!" you quickly pull your hands back, interlacing them behind your back. "i'm sorry," you look down at the ground, rocking bacj and forth on your feet, embarrassed.

because of this, you miss the way a colorful blush is spread across zayne's cheeks, clutching a hand over his heart at the suddenness of your invitation.

you had been... watching him?

he had seen you too, seen you with caleb, smiling and running around with him and sometimes with others.

he thought you didn't notice him.

"um, s-sure."

you perk up, looking up at his face. his gaze is trained elsewhere, but he feels your eyes on him.

"i'll.. join you next time," he adjusts his glasses.

his heart thrums at seeing the way you light up, beaming smile clear even through his peripheral.

"really?!"

he nods, humming in agreement.

you jump up and down once, clearly excited. his gaze finally trails back towards you, catching your expression fully.

you're much brighter up close like this.

"ok! i'll come back when we play next time, ok? its a promise!"

you hastily shake his pinky before scampering back home, excitement overflowing at informing caleb about your success in inviting the shy boy next door.

zayne watches you leave, letting out a shaky sigh once you're out of sight, looking down at the pinky you'd interlaced yours with.

you were definitely something.

but how glad he was that you'd approached him first.

. . .

reminiscing about it, you can't help but think that, subconsciously, you'd always known zayne was the one for you.

when sometimes it felt as if caleb's friends were only nice to you because of your relation to him, it was different with zayne.

even if looking back, you may not have been particularly close (at least not for awhile), he made you feel seen, made you feel like you were being acknowledged as your own person and not simply the extension of someone or something.

unbeknownst to you, you had made zayne feel the same way.

where the other kids found him intimidating or difficult to approach, you were bright and so honest with him among your first meeting, and you continued approaching him after, surprising him each time with your energy and enthusiasm at getting more and more familiar with him.

while with caleb you grew something that was familiar and comfortable, with zayne it was more a mix of a different kind of understanding— a special, unspoken bond between the both of you.

you admired him a little differently once you got to know him, and that was because he showed interest in you, and solely you.

even now, years later, he knows you so so intimately, sees you for all that you are, all that you've been, and as you pipe out the colorful macarons for him on the tray before you, humming along to a shared favorite song on your playlist, you can't help the fondness in your heart grow for the doctor who you've yet to surprise with a little dessert after a long day at work, simply because you want to.

you suppose its yet another subconscious little thank you to him from back then for indulging you from the very first moment you met.

-

a/n: my excuse to write out some childhood scenario w zayne bc i saw some art of it circulating and the ideas are endless lol :x

-

[no2ticonderoga]

Still searching for a title... Part I, Part II, Part III

Leo found her before she could find Mr. D. Leo was a short, curly haired man who seemed to be perpetually covered in dust and grease. The theatre’s technical director, he could fix just about anything with chewing gum and shoe shine, it seemed. 

“Sorry about earlier,” he said. “I was up to my elbows in cables.”

“It’s fine,” Annabeth sighed. “I was just hoping to get to you before Mr. D caught me.”

“No kidding,” Leo snorted. “I only just avoided him by hiding in the lighting grid. What crawled up his ass and died there this time?” 

“Act two,” Annabeth replied.

“Madre di dios,” Leo muttered, followed by several other Spanish oaths. “Let me guess. Mr. D decided he wanted it to be ‘grandiose, and carry the audience away’?” Leo had an excellent impersonation.

“Yep,” Annabeth agreed.

Leo muttered more in Spanish and shook his head. “You got new designs?”

“If you mean the old designs that he rejected two weeks ago, then yes,” Annabeth held up her sketches. 

“Atta girl,” Leo grinned. “These the ones you already showed me?”

“Yep,” Annabeth agreed. 

“I’ll get my crews prepped,” he said. “Let me know which one he decides on.”

Annabeth nodded. “Have you seen him?”

Leo jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Last I saw him, he was headed for the lobby. He was complaining about something. Costumes, I think.”

“More delays?”

“Yeah,” Leo sighed. “You’d think the war was still on with rationing or something…nothing ever seems to come on time.” Leo gave a wave and headed off to talk to his stagehands.

Annabeth made her way through the backstage and out into the house, headed for the lobby. She had only gotten part way up the aisle, when she heard voices at the back of the house. One of them was Mr. D and he sounded…nervous?

She stopped and looked around. She spotted Mr. D standing in one of the doorways. He was standing with a man dressed in a black suit. He was very pale, with dark hair, and though he stood there holding his hat in his hands, there seemed to be something ominous about him. 

She couldn’t quite make out what the man was saying, but Mr. D was protesting about it, though not effectively. The man said something sharp, and Mr. D nodded meekly. Without another word, the man turned and left, leaving Mr. D standing there looking downcast. 

Annabeth hesitated a moment before approaching him. “Mr. D?” she asked.

“What, oh, hm?” he looked up, and Annabeth was suddenly struck by how hollow his eyes looked and how his who being seemed to be sagging. 

“I’ve got those other set drawings for you,” Annabeth said.

Life seemed to come back into him slowly, and he seemed to reinflate, like a balloon. “Ah, good,” he said, his voice returning to his normal pompousness. “Let me see.”

By the time  a new design had been selected, and Annabeth had helped Leo oversee the start of the modifications to the set, it was nearly dinner, and as Annabeth had skipped lunch, she was starving.

She went to find Piper. Annabeth figured she’d be in the rehearsal studio, and she was not wrong. The session was just breaking up, with chorus dancers streaming past her heading for dressing room. Inside the studio, she found Octavian,arguing with the show’s composer, Will, by the piano. But Piper was leaning against the wall, talking with Jason, who had one arm propped against the wall over Piper’s head. She was giving him come hither looks that probably would have melted steel. 

Annabeth normally wouldn’t have interrupted, but she was hungry. “Hi,” she said to Jason before turning to Piper. “Do you still want to get food, or are you…” she glanced between Piper and Jason. “Otherwise occupied?”

Piper laughed lightly, and pushed Jason away from her gently. “I’m all yours tonight, sweetie,” she said. “Jason will just have to wait his turn.” She gave him a wicked smile.

“I don’t mind,” Jason said. “I would hate to break up your dinner date.” He smiled brilliantly, and Annabeth was reminded again why everyone was in love with him. She felt no attraction to him, but even she had to admit he was objectively good looking. Even the scar on his face enhanced his good looks.

Annabeth sighed. “You’re welcome to tag along,” she said. “But I’m starving.”

“If you don’t mind,” he said.

“It’s fine,” Annabeth said. “As long as we go now.”

Piper laughed. “Let me go get changed. We’ll meet at the stage door in 10 minutes.”

They went their separate ways to get ready to go out. Annabeth went to wait by the stage door. While she was waiting, Mrs. Darrowby, the costumer, was getting ready to leave. “Goodnight, Mrs. Darrowby,” Annabeth said.

“I heard Mr. D was giving you a hard time today, dear,” Mrs. Darrowby said. 

Annabeth shrugged. “Nothing I can’t handle,” she replied.

Mrs. Darrowby gave her a sad grin. “Well, at least you were able to get something done.”

“What do you mean?” Annabeth asked, confused.

“My fabric for the chorus line costumes was supposed to arrive today, but it’s been delayed again. This is the third time,” she complained. “It’s like I’m never going to get these done. At this rate, the chorus girls will go on in their underwear!” 

“Well, that might boost ticket sales,” Annabeth joked.

Mrs. Darrowby snorted. “At this rate, we might need to do it anyway, just to keep the show afloat.” She shook her head. “Well, hopefully tomorrow,” she sighed. “Good night, dear.”

“Good night,” Annabeth called, as Mrs. Darrowby headed out the door.

Jason appeared. “Is Piper ready yet?”

“She’ll be here shortly,” Annabeth told him. “When she says 10 minutes, she really means 15,” Annabeth explained. Actually it was usually more like 20, but Annabeth hoped that Piper’s concern for getting food into her might actually move her a little faster.

“How long have you two known each other?” Jason asked.

“Since college,” Annabeth said. “The fall of ‘41.” 

“You’re pretty close, huh?” he asked.

Annabeth shrugged. “She’s the sister I never had.”

“So don’t break her heart?” Jason asked.

Annabeth laughed. “She’s far more likely to break yours,” Annabeth told him.

Jason looked like he was still trying to process this comment when Piper appeared. As always, her hair and makeup were perfect, despite her vigorous rehearsal session, and the dress she had on worked for her in all the right ways. Annabeth loved her, but when she was on the hunt, she always made Annabeth feel so plain and dowdy. 

Piper looped her arm through Jason’s. “Where shall we go?” she said. She grabbed Annabeth with her other arm. “Somewhere not busy for poor Annabeth, who skipped lunch, I think.”

“Yes, please,” Annabeth agreed. 

They ended up at a place close to the theatre district that did not look crowded and they were able to get a table right away. 

“You had a busy day, it seems,” Jason asked her when they were settled and the waitress had taken their orders. Piper and Annabeth shared one side of the booth, while Jason sat alone on the other. 

“You could say that,” Annabeth agreed. “Working with Mr. D is…an adventure.”

Piper laughed. “That’s one way to put it.”

“Have you worked with him before?” Jason asked.

“Several times,” Annabeth admitted. “One of the reasons Piper was able to get me the job to begin with was he knew who I was.” 

“This is my first time,” Jason said. “Are his shows always this…” he trailed off, considering his words.

“Chaotic?” Piper provided helpfully. She was running her finger around a water ring left behind by a previous diner’s drink. 

“Well,” Annabeth considered. “He’s always been mercurial,” she said. “But now that you mention it.” She paused, brows furrowing a little. 

Piper looked thoughtful, cocking her head. “It does seem like we’ve had more than our usual share of disasters. Maybe the show is cursed.”

Annabeth and Jason spoke at the same time. “Why would it be cursed?” 

“There’s no such thing as curses.”

Piper huffed, and glared at Annabeth. “You clearly haven’t been in show business long enough,” she said, and then turned to Jason. “I haven’t been paying too close attention, but I did hear some of the chorus girls talking about a curse. Maybe it’s the curse of Achilles.” She made the last part sound spooky and creepy.

“That’s…not how that works,”  Annabeth said. “Have you even read the myth?” 

Piper made a mou face and brushed this away with her hands. “You don’t think a doomed love story can have a curse?” 

“Well, even if it did, and I can’t believe I’m having this conversation, it wouldn’t be the curse of Achilles. He’s barely in the show, it’s about the Trojans, not the Greeks.” Annabeth shook her head.

“He’s in the show long enough to kill me,” Jason pointed out. “But that feels pretty cursed to me.”

“All I’m saying,” Piper said. “Is this is starting to feel like a Scottish play production, and I’ve been in one of those.”

“Scottish play? You mean MacBeth?” Annabeth asked.

“Stop that, stop it now! Here,” Piper thrust the salt shaker at her. “Over your shoulder, now! Go on.”

Annabeth fumbled with the shaker. “What? Piper…”

“Now.” The look she gave was not to be argued with. 

Annabeth sighed and shook some salt out and made to throw.

“Your left shoulder,” Piper corrected. Annabeth dutifully threw the salt. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Annabeth said.

“I should make you stand up, turn around three times, and spit,” Piper said. “But this will have to do for now, since we’re not in a theater.”

Jason just looked amused. 

“Do you believe this nonsense?” Annabeth asked him.

“Hey, I grew up in theatre, too, don’t forget. And if that wasn’t enough, the war would have definitely made me a believer.”

Annabeth…glare was probably too strong…glower might have been better. She found it harder to discount men’s experiences of the war than Piper’s ridiculous theater superstitions. 

“What kinds of beliefs did you have in the war?” Piper asked.

“You never talked about how many missions you had until your rotation ended,” Jason explained. “And lots of guys had specific routines about checking out their aircraft before take off, or they carried lucky charms and stuff. In my unit, we didn’t have an aircraft with the number 13 on it, it was painted up as 12B.”

“What kind of lucky charms?” Piper asked. 

“Oh, all sorts of things. St. Christopher medals were popular, rosaries of course. One guy had a silk scarf that his girlfriend made him from the parachute he used to bailout in training when his engine quit.” Jason was warming to his topic. “One guy had a pair of stockings that he got from…” he stopped abruptly and colored. “Uh, from someone he knew.” 

Annabeth felt her face heat a little, but she smiled weakly. Piper, on the other hand grinned broadly, and she leaned in toward him, batting her eyelashes. “Oh, really,” she said, as she leaned her chin on her fist and gave him a look. “What kind of someone, hmmm?” she arched an eyebrow at him.

Jason stuttered and jumped, and Annabeth was fairly certain Piper had just touched his leg with her foot. 

Annabeth cleared her throat. “Piper, you promised.”

Piper sat up. “Right, I’m sorry.” She gave Jason a saucy look. “We’ll take that up again later, hmm?”

Jason’s eyes were a bit wild, but he grinned back gamely. “Right.”

“So, did you have any lucky charms?” Piper asked.

“I always went up with this old Roman coin that my dad gave me,” Jason said, shrugging. “I’m here, so I guess it worked.”

“And that’s a good thing,” Piper declared. “See, Annabeth, superstitions aren’t bad.”

“That...correlation is not causation,” Annabeth protested, but their food arrived, and Piper wasn’t in a mood to listen. Jason gave her a sympathetic look. 

They ate, and Annabeth felt worlds better after they were finished. It was clear to Annabeth that Piper wanted to find a way to extend her evening with Jason, so she plead exhaustion (it wasn’t hard), and said she didn’t mind going home alone. “Are you sure?” Piper asked. “I had wanted to talk tonight.”

“I’m fine,” Annabeth told her. “There’s nothing that hasn’t already been said, you know that.” Piper spared a moment to give her a sympathetic look. “Go,” Annabeth told her. “Have fun. Don’t stay out too late.”

“Yes, mother,” Piper laughed. “Don’t worry,” she assured her more seriously. “We have rehearsal tomorrow. Tonight is not a night for sleepovers.” 

For all her playfulness, Piper was completely dedicated to her craft, so Annabeth wasn’t really worried. She bid farewell to both Piper and Jason and hailed a cab. When the cabbie had asked her where to, instead of her address, her mouth said. “The Battery.”

She felt foolish as the cab cruised downtown, and twice she almost told the cab driver to turn around. But she got out and paid her fare, and walked to the edge of the wharf, leaned on the rail and stared out at the Statue of Liberty in the harbor. She sighed.

Anger or sadness? Which would it be tonight? She wondered.

But oddly, she felt neither. 

She felt strange tonight, like the summer air was somehow charged with electricity. It was almost like the city was holding its breath. Maybe it was the election, or maybe it was the growing tension over Berlin. But something…

Annabeth felt a chill, despite the warm air, and rubbed her bare arms. 

She recognized at least part of what she was feeling. And she didn’t like it. She knew this feeling, and it scared her. It happened once or twice a year, despite her best efforts.

It was the tiniest, smallest sliver of her that didn’t believe that Percy was dead. Or that he had played her. It was the hope that he was still alive, still out there. And that maybe he would come back to her. 

She bit her lip, looking out at the statue, remembering the feeling of his arms around her. Wishing he was here right now. She thought about Piper, off with Jason, the easy way she could talk to anyone. How easy it had been with Percy. Why? She had no idea, but it had been as natural as breathing. She remembered telling him things after only a few hours that it had taken her almost a year before she told Piper. 

“I want him back,” she spoke out loud.

No one responded, of course, but Annabeth suddenly felt a frisson up her spine, like a small shock. She jumped, and looked around, but there was no one.

Sighing, and feeling very foolish, Annabeth walked back toward State Street. Hopefully she could find another cab to take her home. 

[batboysanonymous]

Birds of a Feather

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel was a complication Y/N never asked for, a shadow that haunted her steps with the weight of everything unspoken between them. But when the line between hate and desire begins to blur, she realizes too late—he was never her enemy to begin with.

Based on the song: BIRDS OF A FEATHER by Billie Eilish

───────────────────────────────

I want you to stay

'Til I'm in the grave 'Til I rot away, dead and buried

The tension between them was a living, breathing thing. It clung to Y/N’s skin like the mist that rolled in from the Sidra, thick and inescapable, filling every inch of space between her and the male who had spent the last century making her want to scream in frustration—or maybe something far more dangerous.

Azriel stood across from her now, his arms crossed, his jaw tight. He always looked like that around her, like he was seconds away from either killing her or shoving her against the nearest surface.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she snapped, shifting her weight on her feet, trying to ignore the way his shadows curled around his shoulders like they were whispering her name.

Azriel cocked his head, his lips curving in something that wasn’t quite a smirk but close enough to make her chest tighten. “Like what?”

“Like you’re—” She cut herself off, exhaling sharply. “Like you’re trying to figure out if I’m worth the trouble.”

Something dark flickered in his hazel eyes. “I know exactly how much trouble you are.”

Y/N’s fingers twitched at her sides, itching to throw something at him. Or to pull him closer. She couldn’t decide which would be more satisfying. “Then why the hell do you keep looking at me like that?”

Azriel was in front of her before she could take another breath, his scent of night-chilled wind and cedar filling her lungs. He wasn’t touching her, not yet, but his presence pressed against her like an unseen force. “Because I don’t know if I have the strength to stay away from you.”

Birds of a feather, we should stick together, I know

I said I’d never think I wasn’t better alone

Y/N had always told herself she didn’t need anyone. That she was stronger alone.

Azriel tested that resolve at every turn.

He didn’t make things easy for her, never had. He challenged her, provoked her, made her blood simmer in a way no one else ever had.

And yet, she still found herself drawn to him.

Which was why she should have seen it coming when he cornered her in the training ring after yet another spar that had ended with neither of them winning—just bruised, breathless, and dangerously close to breaking whatever thread kept them from falling into something they couldn’t come back from.

“Say it,” he murmured, voice low, rough.

Y/N swallowed hard, heart slamming against her ribs. “Say what?”

“That you want me.” Azriel’s wings flared slightly, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “That you think about me when you shouldn’t.”

Y/N clenched her jaw, hating how easily he saw through her. Hating that she wanted to give in.

“I don’t,” she lied.

Azriel exhaled sharply, a humorless chuckle escaping him. “You’re so full of shit.”

Before she could stop herself, she reached out, gripping the front of his tunic and pulling him closer. The moment his body pressed against hers, the world tilted on its axis.

His breath hitched. Her own lungs burned.

And then he kissed her.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet.

It was fire and fury and the answer to every unspoken thing that had passed between them.

And I don’t know what I’m crying for

I don’t think I could love you more It might not be long, but baby, I I’ll love you ‘til the day that I die

Y/N should have known it wouldn’t be simple.

Loving Azriel was never going to be easy.

It was in the way he hesitated before reaching for her, as if he still wasn’t convinced he was allowed to have her. In the way his shadows wrapped around her in sleep, possessive even when he was unconscious. In the way he always looked at her like she was both the best and worst thing that had ever happened to him.

“You don’t have to stay,” he told her one night, his voice quiet, almost too quiet.

Y/N frowned, shifting onto her side to look at him in the dim candlelight. “Do you want me to leave?”

Azriel was silent for a long moment. Then, so softly she almost didn’t hear it—

“If you go, I’m going too.”

Her throat tightened.

Because she knew he meant it.

Because she had never wanted to stay anywhere more.

So she reached for him, her fingers threading through his, her lips brushing over his scarred knuckles. “Then I guess you’re stuck with me.”

Azriel exhaled slowly, and when he kissed her again, it felt like a promise.

One she had no intention of breaking.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

[jesuis-assez]

↠ Tim & Lucy ↳ 2x10 - The Dark Side

[tseecka]

picture a verse where Alistair gets killed on the Landsmeet floor after a Warden he romanced betrays him to keep Loghain alive and allows Anora to order his death

...oh you went straight for the heart on this one oh geez I mean. I mean I asked for it and I should have known what I was getting into. But fuck.

Would he beg, or plead, or rage? Or simply be shocked into silence, dumbfounded, brain short circuiting at the betrayal? To allow Loghain of all people to live, at his own expense; to be thrown over not for a friend, or ally, or even an expedient political pawn, but Loghain--the man who caused so much death and pain, the reason he and the Warden found each other--found solace in each other--in the first place?

He's dead before the sword falls, for all intents and purposes. The Warden cuts out his heart before he can lose his head. And right up until the end I think the thought running through his head--the words on his lips when he is lead away, the last thing he wonders before the blade falls--

What did I do wrong?

---

[eyesxxyou]

First Drink 🥃

🍺・・・l. howlett x fem!reader

rating. m

word count. 2.2k

synopsis. you were everything logan shouldn't want. young, religious, and innocent. you were sweet to everyone. and you've never been touched. logan wants to be your first everything.

or

Logan gives you your first drink

warnings. age gap relationship (reader is 21, Logan is nearing 50) , religious reader, innocent reader, drinking, forced alcohol consumption, dubious consent, fingering, squirting, not edited

↳ pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3

Logan is far from a holy man. He drinks too much, smokes too often, hasn’t even stepped foot in a church in his entire life. He’d like to think he’s a good man though, one who tries to make the right decisions when he can, but he knows that what he’s like to think and the reality of it all were two wildly separate things. For how could he be a good man when he’s got it out for you, a pastor’s daughter?

He didn’t mean for it to happen. Kind of stumbled into it as one stumbles into trying cocaine. That is to say, he didn’t stumble into it at all. It was a deliberate decision made with addictive consequences. You were his neighbor, a meek, kind little thing often wrapped up in your bible while you sit quaintly on the front steps of your family house. You were young, not too young though. Freshly turned 21. Yet you still wore your modest clothing and pretty mary janes with frilly socks.

Logan was a perverted man. There was no way to get around it. You were as kind and as innocent as any one person could be. You spoke to him kindly, you brought him lemonade while he was working on his motorcycle and all he could think about was how pretty you’d look in his lap with his large hand on your tummy, feeling the bulge of his cock nestled nicely against your womb.

It was one of these days when you brought him lemonade and sat with him in his garage that he turned to you, hands covered in grease and oil. “You’re 21 now, right doll?” Logan grabbed a towel from out of the waist of his jeans and used that to clean off his hands before grabbing the small crystalline cup of fresh lemonade to sip on. It was almost as sweet as you, not nearly as pleasing to taste.

You sat on a small crate with your knees close to your chest. The toes of your sleek, black mary janes pointed to each other. “Yes sir.” He liked that about you, how respectfully you spoke to him. It reminded him of how much power he had over you, how many years, how much authority. Oh, he is far from a holy man.

“You had your first drink yet?”

You were a sweet, little thing, flustered at the mere suggestion of drinking alcohol. “Oh, no sir. I don’t drink. My father would never allow it.” You and your tender sensibilities. You and your innocent nature. Logan thought about how easy it would be to have his way with you. You wouldn’t fight, wouldn’t scream, wouldn’t so much as make a peep. You’d be too entranced by the way his fingers slide along your tongue and his length snuggle sits way into the walls of your unused cunt.

Logan hummed softly. “You wanna?” He watched the way your eyes shifted as you considered it, a world within your grasp if you just had the courage to reach for it. He’d give it to you, all of it, a universe of worldly pleasures. Why restrict yourself now to go to heaven when you can have heaven on Earth right here?

“I shouldn’t.” Your voice is slow and unsure. All you needed was a little push and you’d tip right over the edge into depravity. That’s the thing about little girls like you, you long for a touch of what’s beyond you but you’re always too scared to get it.

Logan stood up to his staggering height, all legs and muscular torso. “Come on, no one will know but me and you.” He offered a hand to you and after a moment of hesitation, you placed your hand in his large palm and let him pull you up to your feet and guide you into his house. It was a world you had never before seen, rustic and dark, smelling so strongly of Logan you thought you might faint.

He had a whole cabinet for his alcohol, bottles of scotch, whiskey, and bourbon. Logan grabbed a bottle out of the cabinet along with a whiskey glass for you to sip out of. He poured some out and you watched with utter fascination. The golden brown liquid long kept from you for fear you may lose your spot in Heaven. Worldly pleasures such as drinking doomed you to Hell.

“Come here, doll.” Logan coaxed you towards him with two fingers as he sat down on his couch, legs open just enough to offer you a comfortable seat on his thighs. You trembled like a newborn deer, scared of this strange, new world you’ve found yourself in. He brought you into his lap, his hands resting on your thigh as he pushed the glass of whiskey into your hand. “Go ahead and try it.”

You looked into the glass, golden brown sloshing around. It didn’t look so intimidating, like drinking Coca-Cola. But it didn’t taste like Coca-Cola when you lifted the glass to your lips and took a sip. It tasted bitter and burned your throat as it went down. “I don’t like it.” You pouted softly, turning to look over your shoulder at Logan. His fingers slowly began to gather the fabric of your skirt, pulling it up your thigh. “Just keep drinking, doll.”

You were a good girl. You did as told, entirely unaware of the way his fingers kept pulling at your skirt until it was entirely up your thigh. You felt his rough fingertips against your bare flesh and shivered as he traced figure 8s into your skin. “Mr. Howlett?”

“Shh, keep drinking.” Logan murmured as he felt up your thigh, closer and closer to your heated cunt. You writhed in his lap, simultaneously uncomfortable and aroused as you felt his rough fingers brush against the damp fabric of your cotton panties. The stuck to your pussy lips, wet and sensitive as he pressed his thumb to your clit through the fabric and began to rub. Logan took his free hand and pushed the cup back to your lips, tilting it to force you to drink.

Logan couldn’t help himself. You were here, splayed out before him for the taking. He’d be stupid not to take advantage of, take advantage of you. You didn't fight it, just as he had expected, like a good girl. “Spread your legs now.” He clicked his tongue and crooned into your ear.

Trembling, you shook your head. “I– I can't.” Your voice, all small and meek, only made his pants tighter. You could feel it, the bulge against your ass through his jeans. Or maybe that was the large buckle against his pelvis.

“Yeah you can. Open up, doll.” He shifted you slightly so that you were sitting on one of his thighs. He used his leg to part yours a bit further, skillfully. He’s had many girls in his lap, none as pretty as you.

Logan stroked your quivering cunt. “What a wet little girl you are. You been thinking about this, pretty girl?” He bounced you on his thigh and let you slide further into his fingers. A stifled whimper escaped you as you braced yourself against him. “Mr. Howlett– please.” You pleaded for your innocence, for your integrity. Most importantly, you begged for him not to expose your innermost thoughts. The sinful way you look at him, all muscle and hair and man.

Your fingers grasped at his wrist and forearm, nails digging into his skin. It wasn't like you were trying to move his hand, not like you could if you wanted you.

You gasped as he curled a finger into the side of your soaked panties and pulled them to the side. Your cheeks began to swell with the heat of embarrassment. Of course, you never expected to have any sexual experience before marriage so you hadn't shaved between your legs. Logan didn't mind at all it seemed, his finger dipped between your lovely lips and stroked in tender touches.

You squirmed in his lap, whimpering. “Mr. Howlett, I…I shouldn't. Please.” His thumb pressed on your puffy clit, pulsing with arousal, and you choked as the electrifying jolts of pleasure shooting through your body. You had ever been touched like this before, not even by yourself. Logan’s experienced fingers circled your leaking entrance, teasing at all the possibilities of pleasure.

“No one has to know, doll.” Grunted Logan. He felt the way your pussy fluttered, the whole thing aching with want. He eased a single finger into you, sighing out a sweet “Jesus” at the way your walls clamped down around him. You let out a squeal, back arching away from him, your nails sinking into his hairy forearm. Your entire body shivered. “Too big,” you murmured, “‘s too big.”

You were small, tight, and already complaining that a single finger was too much. How could he possibly fit his fat cock into your cunt? Logan was sure he'd tear you in half, his precious girl. “Relax, grab that bottle and drink some more, baby. It’ll help you loosen up.”

With a shaky hand, you reached out and grabbed the bottle off the table in front of you. You brought it to your lips and sipped at the liquid while Logan rubbed your hip with his free hand. “Good girl. I gonna keep going now.” You shook your head viciously. “No, no, no, ‘m not ready.”

He cared not for your concerns. Free hand pulling your legs apart, Logan curled pulled his finger from your gripping cunt before sliding it back in. You were all warm and soft on the inside, just like you were on the outside, even more so. You squeaked and squealed in his lap, his thumb attacking your clit in ferocious circles.

It’s a feeling you’ve never experienced before, being fucked with a single thick finger. You mewled, mind growing hazy as your hips rocked against your will. Logan knew you wouldn't be able to handle a second finger. He’d rupture your hymen and he wanted to save that honor for when he pushed himself into you and possessed you completely.

You were dripping down his knuckles. He fingered you so hard and fast, you nearly screamed as you thrashed in his lap. “Mmmh ah, ah… ngh.” Something wet trickled out of you and down Logan's hand, clear and dripping. A weak, little squirt, followed by a much larger one.

“I– I’m sorry, I didn't…” You panted out, whining. Logan cooed lowly in your ear. “Got myself a squirter.” He chuckled, a nice puddle on his leg and couch from your sweet show of pleasure. He curled his finger, messaging your soft walls in desperate search of that soft ridge where your g-spot lay.

When he found it, Logan smiled, chucking as you yelped and cried out, a rattling moan shivering up your spine. You tried to slow his hand, grasping and scratching at his arm. You fell back against his chest, legs splayed open while he took the time to abuse your pretty cunt. “You okay, doll?”

You whined vaguely, hazily, your body rolling then slumping, tensing then relaxing. “I– It feels weird.” Something was building within you. Something tight and breathtakingly beautiful. Tears pricked your eyes, wide and pretty, weeping with the brutality of your orgasm, pressing on the edge of unknown pleasures.

And it snapped like a rubber band. Everything that had been held back released all at once, ravishing your body to the point where there goes pointed in your Mary Jane's and your back arched. Shaking, you clawed at Logan's arm so hard you left bright red marks lining his flesh. “Mr. Howlett!”

“Shh, shh, don't want the neighbors to hear you, do you doll?” Logan slowed his hand, pulling his finger from your aching pussy. His entire hand dripped with your cum, sweet and creamy, some slick with your squirt. “Open up, little one.” He teased the tips of his fingers to your lips like he had that glass of whiskey. Coaxing your mouth open, Logan slipped his fingers between your lips and pressed his fingers to your tongue.

You tasted nice, sweet. Your body unmarred by the poison of excessive alcohol, smoking, or junk food. You were clean and pure, untouched by anyone but him. Logan loved it, knowing that he’s the first man to ever touch you. The knowledge was almost as good as an orgasm by itself. You were his, he possessed you. You were his before you were anyone else's.

When you stood, skirt falling back down to your knees, your legs trembled with the aftershock of your first orgasm. You let out a deep, shaky breath, trembling as you turned to look at Logan’s sitting figure. “M–M–Mr. Howlett.” It’s all you could manage to say to him, choking. You had been violated; your sacred temple desecrated.

And you liked it.

Logan hiked himself up to his feet from his couch and stood before you, towering. His hands on your hips, he pulled you in close to him. You braced yourself with your hands against his solid chest. Your cheeks were still wet with tears which Logan wiped away with the pads of his thumbs. “Why don’t you come back tomorrow, doll?”

You were such a good, obedient girl. You nodded slowly. “Yes sir.”

“Good girl.”

[tojisun]

the apple that rolled over to the tree

!! fluff; f!reader; parenthood!!; simon-centric hehe >:3 // divider by @/plutism!

there is a… kid attached to your hip when simon returns home from a mission, his exhausted body stumbling into the kitchen where he finds you and it.

“what—”

he can’t even fathom the emotion coursing through him at the moment, what with shock triumphing over everything. still, you’d probably need to give him credit for not losing his goddamn mind at seeing a whole child — he couldn’t have been more than two years old with how he’s only three apples tall — clinging to you like a baby koala.

“oh my god, you’re back!” you squeal, unfazed at how dumbfounded your fiance has become, before shuffling close to embrace him.

simon reciprocates the hug anyway.

you step back, your lips still wobbling in your tears as you stare up at him, all awed like you couldn’t believe that he was back and simon wishes he can press his promises to your lips because he will always find a way to come back, he swears on his life, but also—

the child.

“sweetheart?” he begins, soft as to not spook you or the kid. “who’s, uh, who’s that?”

the child shifts, turning his little face from where it was burrowed onto your neck at the sound of simon’s voice. he rests his head on your clavicle, smooshing his already chubby cheek, before the biggest brown eyes that simon’s ever seen stare up at him, all doe-eyed and jarringly innocent, and simon, he—

well, not even babysitting tommy’s kids prepared him for this.

“this is yasha,” you murmur, pulling simon’s attention back to you. “or yakov, or james if he would want an english name.”

the boy reacts to you calling his name, and simon watches as those curious eyes tip up at you in question. you swipe your finger over his nose, the little thing scrunching up at the ticklish feeling, and simon becomes breathless at seeing the unadulterated joy in your face.

it is all parts soft and tender, but also anxious and worried, and simon begins to puzzle out the pieces.

“he’s my foster child. or ours, i guess, now that you’re here.” your voice is so fragile as you reply to him, your hand now beginning to rub soothing nothings on the boy’s back. simon wonders if it’s more to calm yourself down than it is to comfort the boy.

your lips purse, hesitating, and simon waits because while he he’s pieced out what you want to ask, he knows that this is something you would want to truly talk to him about. it is something he knows you have mustered up the courage to bring up so he gives it to you, open and ready, and he hopes that his face and his gait show that whatever it is you would want to say, simon will always support you no matter what.

“si?” you begin, looking heart-wrenchingly small in your worry. “i think i wanna adopt him.”

simon hums, stepping close but also being careful not to crowd yasha, before he curls his arms around you two — his family — and nuzzles his face on your other shoulder. “i’d love that.”

he offers you a smile, and squeezes your arm in comfort, then he watches as the tears come, easily springing up from your eyes. yasha startles, whirling to look up at his mother in worry. simon’s throat constricts at the thought of you being a mother and him, a father; how, now, there is someone else for simon to come home to. someone to fight for.

jesus. he’d need to tell the lads and maybe get wasted as a celebration.

“owies?” yasha asks, chubby fist balling your shirt.

“they’re happy tears, sweetie pie,” you reply, crooning. “i’m just so, so happy.”

yasha hums, nodding, probably already distracted, and simon takes that time to straighten back up. he pushes your hair away from your face, before he pitches forward to press a kiss on your forehead.

yeah, he’s happy too.

.

yasha gets spoiled, not that simon’s complaining given that he’s been the one doing all the spoiling.

“really, si? a new toly?” you ask, arms crossed over your chest in your exasperation.

toly or anatoly, or tory because yasha still can’t speak properly, is the name that yasha gave to all of his new stuffed toys. it all started with a dog plush that simon bought from the supermarket on a whim and gave to the boy. it was laughably quick how yasha had abandoned his blocks to make grabby hands to the toy, before squealing out that name.

the next stuffed toy that yasha received, which was just the softest and roundest penguin plush toy that simon’s ever seen, was also named toly. so was that teddy bear you bought for him. or that reindeer he got for christmas. somehow, every single one had been named toly.

the only thing you and simon can find about toly was that anatoly means sunrise. simon was so sure it was the russian word for animal, because why else would yasha repeat it, but who would have thought that their little fish is so imaginative?

like, of course he’s going to name all of his toys toly because they are as warm as sunrises. see? smart kid.

but this one, this new toly, set off world records. it was a camel plush that simon saw at the airport when he was out, pretending to be a civilian.

(garrick had been assigned with him for that mission, and was quick to spot and mention simon’s on-duty purchase.

“it’s for my boy,” he grunted in reply, forgetting the fact that he’s yet to truly break the news to his squad. garrick had never looked as surprised, and next thing simon knew, the news made its way to their group chat.

price was amiable about the whole thing. mactavish? not so much.

he just about begged to see a picture of yasha — “and yer girl again, if you wouldn’t mind.” — or even visit him. then he invited garrick to come and price invited himself too, so now the guys are going to swing by some time soon.)

when simon gave it to yasha, their boy had stared at it for a solid minute — simon counted — before screaming and then running to snatch the toy from simon’s hold. he hugged the camel close to his person, his little head nuzzling against the plush face of the camel, all the while absolutely vibrating in unabashed excitement.

he picked up thundering footsteps and turned around just enough to see you literally slide into the room. yasha continued to hug the camel, ignorant of the distress he caused, while you looked on in your panic, buzzing with worry because you just heard your boy scream, damn it!

“he’s fine, bub,” simon said before you could ask, and he watched as you came down from your frenzy, your breathing slowing down at the rationalization that if simon was not panicked, then everything’s alright.

then, your eyes landed on the new stuff toy.

“really?” you asked.

in his defence, yasha adores camel-toly.

in your defence, yasha’s room is running out of space for his tolys.

…well, simon does have all that military money. gonna have to spend it on something else, right?

.

[charlie foxtrot]

sriley: link

john2: ????

sriley: new address.

garry: oh? congratulations.

sriley: thanks.

johnp: 👍

.

yasha was shy when saying hi to price, then outright cried when he saw mactavish, which made simon bark out loud in laughter. yasha only stopped sniffling when he saw kyle. in no time, yasha absolutely adored garrick to the point that he would not even let him go.

dinner was prepared and while you called them all to eat, simon ambled out of the kitchen, where he had been helping you, and walked towards kyle and yasha to pick up his son and seat him on his high chair. but yasha had only looked at him, his head tilted in question, before ignoring simon and clinging onto kyle.

hell, he had even let go of camel-toly so that he could use two chubby fists to hold onto kyle. surprised, simon didn’t even know how to react and watched as his sergeant offered him an apologetic smile before carrying his son to the dining room. kyle rounded the table and sat yasha on his high chair, only, yasha made a scene when kyle did so, and he released a lungful of screams and cries, breaking everyone’s eardrums and their hearts.

kyle stood there, worried and confused, and hovered because he did not know what to do. hell, none of them did, and then you walked out of the kitchen, rushing to yasha, and hummed songs to comfort your son.

you crooned when he made grabby hands to be picked up and you did so with no hesitation, your touch soothing the boy into quiet sniffles. but even then, yasha wouldn’t settle down as he wriggled in your arms, short limbs reaching for—

simon glowered.

yasha was reaching for kyle. you were quick to giggle, asking kyle if it was alright that yasha would eat with him, and simon had glared at his sergeant, daring him to deny their son of anything, before reluctantly nodding his approval at kyle’s happy trill of, “of course, ma’am!”

yasha had finally calmed down when you sat him on kyle’s lap, and his boy was even polite enough to actually eat his soft veggies every time kyle beckoned him to open his mouth for a new spoonful.

simon did not startle, but it was close, when your hand landed on his thigh.

“you okay, baby?” you asked, eyes furrowed in your worry.

“yeah,” he remembers replying with, his throat all choked-up because he knows yasha must be excited to have new people to play with, but still, there was something that stung when his boy chose garrick over him.

not that it was kyle’s fault because he is a dear for even doing all that he did for yasha, but simon had hoped that he would always be yasha’s favourite.

too lost in his thoughts, simon had almost missed yasha’s call.

“-ddy? daddy?” yasha asked, startling simon.

it was not the first time yasha called him that, but every time he did, it never fails to make simon melt.

“yeah? what’s up, buddy?”

simon pretended that no one was watching the interaction.

yasha giggled, hiding his food-smeared lips behind his little palms, before turning to use garrick’s front to hide from simon. you snorted, murmuring to kyle how you swear you would wash his shirt before they go, but it’s all buzz to simon because his son — his darling boy — wanted to play with him during dinner.

yasha peeked at him again, before giggling once more when he caught simon’s eyes. this continued on until dinner ended, with simon occasionally miming growling monsters to induce more hearty giggles from his son, and being rewarded with the happiest laughter ever.

simon turned to you, with his heart on his throat, and beamed.

“aww,” mactavish sang from somewhere beside him. “ain’t that adorable— argh!”

simon had swung his arm out and thumped his fist on johnny’s stomach. thank god, yasha had chosen that time to hide his face again on kyle’s stomach.

.

“unca’ john?” yasha asks in a stage-whisper because everyone within earshot just heard him even with his attempt to be quiet. it’s only their training that stopped simon from acting like he’s noticed.

“yeah, bubsy?” john replies, sounding so utterly soft that this version of him is so foreign to simon.

“this tory,” yasha says and simon discreetly peeks to see which toly is being introduced to uncle john — it’s the elephant one.

price gasps theatrically like he hadn’t seen yasha drool all over this elephant toy before, and puffs out, “how cute!”

“mhmm,” yasha says, nodding, then smacks the face of the toy on john’s face. the trunk smooshes against john’s nose, and thank god that elephant-tory is soft because that aim would have been lethal if it wasn’t.

“jesus—” price gasps out.

“language!” simon hisses, and ducks his head back down just before yasha could catch him peeking.

.

yasha is now four and he still gets teary eyed when he sees johnny. simon placates his friend and says it’ll pass soon. maybe.

basically, i wanted to write a fic wherein simon’s reaction to being presented with a child is “what— oh okay, sure why not” and (literally in 20 minutes) “i will kill everything for this child” and so here we are

a simon spinoff - it takes a rampage (to be a dad)

[harrysfolklore]

lando norris being down bad for his girlfriend: a compilation

summary: lando norris can’t help but talk about his girlfriend whenever he cans, fans make compilation videos about it

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Lando Norris could be described as someone who's not scared of saying whatever crossed his mind.

And that's why he never, ever, missed the opportunity to talk about his girlfriend whenever he had the chance.

He mentioned her during interviews, press conferences, social media post and even fan interactions. To the point where fans started making compilation videos with all the moments he publicly obsessed over his girlfriend.

The most popular one gathered millions of views on YouTube, showing multiple occasions Lando couldn't help but be down bad for her.

The video started with a clip from Q&A with fans, someone asked him about his favorite way to relax after a race. Without missing a beat, Lando replied, "Cuddling up with my girlfriend, of course. Nothing beats that."

"You're really whipped man, It's embarrassing," Oscar, his teammate, teased beside him, making the audience laugh.

"It's not, really." Lando shrugged proudly.

The next clip was taken from McLaren's Tiktok account, their content creator tried to do the "Can you watch my ___ for a second" prank on Lando.

"Oh my girlfriend already did this prank to me," Lando said, laughing at the camera, "Baby, If you're watching this, I miss you. Your pranks are way better than McLaren's"

The video moved to show Lando during a post-qualifying interview, his suit hanging by his waist and his fireproofs showing, when asked about his strategy for the race, he cheekily replied, "Well, first I'm going to call my girlfriend for some good luck wishes. Then, I'll focus on getting to the front."

"Zak Brown should hire your girlfriend as your strategist then," the interviewer joked.

"That would be great but I don't think we would be getting any job done. You know what they say about mixing business with pleasure."

The next clip showed Lando with his friend and fellow driver Max Fewtrell, playing a trivia game about how well did they knew each other. Max had to answer what was Lando's worst habit.

"I'm going to say leaving dirty plates around the house," he said, showing his board, "You do mate, admit it."

"My girlfriend would agree on that," he admitted, "She's always complaining about it."

"I don't know how she's still living with you."

"Because she loves me, and I would die if she leaves me."

On the same note, a video of Oscar teasing Lando followed right after.

"Who's most likely to snore?" Lando read the question, and Oscar quickly put ut the cutout with Lando's face, "How are you so sure? You didn't even hesitate."

"Mate, I've heard you, plus your girlfriend literally complained about not being able to sleep properly last night because you kept snoring."

"I did keep her up last night, but it wasn't just because of the snoring," Lando said, a cheeky grin on his face.

"Put the not safe for work disclaimer at the beginning of this video please."

The next segment was from Lando's own Youtube channel, he was doing a little vlog in Miami before the race weekend.

"Hi everyone," he said, filming himself in the mirror with his camera, "Today I'm back with another LandoLog, I'm going to be filming some behind the scenes of this Miami weekend, so without further ado, let's go," he moved the camera around, focusing on his girlfriend who was putting some mascara on her eyelashes, "Here's my beautiful girl, who takes ages to get ready. Say hi baby."

"Hi everyone," his girlfriend waved, laughing, "I'm not taking ages, I'm just making sure I look good."

"You always look good for me," Lando said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before turning the camera back to himself, "See, I told you she's the best."

The next clip showed Lando and Oscar together once again, this time they were giving a tour around the McLaren hub.

"This is my driver's room," Lando said as he opened the door, "It's cleaner than Oscar's, clearly, and looks like I have a bed."

Lando moved to put together the small bed that was behind the door, "This is an upgrade from last year, we didn't have this. I'll be definitely giving it some good use, to nap or with my girlfriend."

"Can we have a video where you're not a horndog please?" Oscar said, putting his hands on his hips.

"You're the horndog, I never said what we were going to use it for, we're just going to cuddle."

The video moved to show one of Lando's post race interviews after winning the Miami GP, he had been asked ho would be the most excited person about this win besides him.

"My girlfriend, definitely. I couldn't have done it without her," Lando said, his voice filled with emotion, "She's been my biggest supporter, my inspiration, and my motivation. This win is as much hers as it is mine."

The video then cut to a scene from Lando's gaming stream with Max Verstappen. The two drivers were deep into a game of Call of Duty, their banter and laughter filling the screen. Lando was focused, his eyes glued to the monitor as he coordinated with Max.

Just then, Lando's phone buzzed on the table beside him. He glanced at the screen and his expression softened, the comment section noticing, "Hey, mate, I need to go. My girl needs me for something," he said, setting down his controller.

"Lando! Are you serious right now?" Max said, his eyes still glued to the screen.

"I am, see ya," he turned to the camera, smiling not so apologetically "Sorry, guys, duty calls. See you next time."

The last scene was a snippet from an interview, Lando had been asked what he saw in his future.

He paused, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Honestly? I see a lot of racing, hopefully some championships," he laughed, "but most importantly, I see her. I can't imagine my life without her."

The screen faded to black, showing a text that read: Get you a man who is as down for you as Lando Norris is for his girlfriend.

[ditzydoe444]

MDNI 18+

nerd! jason and bimbo! reader ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹

part 1 (current) | part 2 | part 3

you approached nerd! jason after your lecture, you’ve been struggling to keep up with the content for the past few weeks, and after stalking him in the library you realised he was quite smart and a total loser. just what you wanted. you beamed, gently tapping his shoulders after class with the biggest smile you could possibly give that would make a man weak at his knees. and when you said he was a total loser, he was a total fucking loser. he became a stuttering mess seeing a pretty girl like you, jason was never popular or got any attention from women, so seeing a girl like you talking to him almost made him come on the spot.

nerd! jason who did not hesitate to accept tutoring you the moment you asked, he stuttered out a response, his cheeks and ears turning pink as he tried to avoid eye contact, the last thing he wanted was to get lost in your pretty round eyes.

however your tutoring sessions didn’t really go as planned.

you couldn’t help but to get turned on at the sight of him teaching you, the way he was so soft and gentle making sure you actually understood the information instead of rushing on made you unreasonably horny. your perfectly manicured nails drifted down to his thigh, gently caressing it as you watched him physically melt, stumbling over his words as his hand shaking as he held the pen. yes nerd! jason was a total loser, but he was also so god damn hot. the man was tall, 6’4 maybe? and god his muscles? his broad shoulders were prominent through the sweaters he would wear in class, the way they were rolled up in his forearms allowing you to see his veins and muscles made your eye roll. he had a slightly rugged face, sharp jawline and prominent sharp nose, but had the biggest shy boyish personality.

despite having absolutely no experience with women, he sure knows how to fuck. when you first gave him a handjob, his cock so god damn big to the point where it put the frat boys you hooked up with to shame. the way he moaned and tilted his head back, mumbling ‘don’t stop’ was enough to give you the biggest orgasm alone.

you didn’t expect anything in return, just giving him a hand job before he patted his thighs. when you refused his soft tone changed into a lower demanding one, saying though he was inexperienced he wasn’t a fucking loser to let a girl give him a hand job and not give something in return.

nerd! jason knew how to fuck, after giving him small tips and guidance, which unlike the frat boys he took no insult to the advices you gave, listening and following them made your knees weak. he’s never made a woman come before because he was a virgin, and well, seeing you come for the first time made him want to do it over and over again. he fucked you so god damn dumb.

[freedomfireflies]

One Day*

Summary: An extra for 404*

The one where you still hate Harry, but turns out, you might be having his baby.

Word Count: 5.4k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, spanking, brief choking, slight angst (happy ending), mentions of pregnancy and babies! *Please be so gentle with yourself and only continue if you feel comfortable! 💞*

“I’m late.”

“For what?”

You huff. “I’m late,” you repeat, gesturing frantically toward your hips. “A week late. Which I know can happen, but…not really to me, so…I’m late. And I think we’re fucked.”

Harry blinks. Looks down at your stomach. Looks up at your face. “Oh.”

“Oh?” You rear back. “That’s all you have to say for yourself is oh?”

He lifts his left shoulder in nonchalant shrug before flopping down onto your sofa. “I don’t know. What did you want me to say?”

“I…I don’t know,” you huff. “I kind of thought you’d…yell. Or freak out or something. Or ask me if I’m keeping it.”

“Do you want me to freak out?”

“Well…no. Not really.”

“Do you want to keep it?”

“I…I don’t know, I don’t even…I’m not even sure if I am yet or not.”

“Okay.” He nudges his glasses up before crossing his arms. “Well did you get a test?”

You glance toward the pharmacy bag still sitting on your kitchen counter. It’s been mocking you ever since you picked it up. Staring you down, sticking out its tongue. One, tiny little box that’ll determine the next chapter of your life. It’s almost infuriating. 

“Yeah,” you mumble. “I, um…got one on the way home from work.”

“Okay. Have you taken it yet?”

“Not…exactly.”

His brow raises. “Do you…need help or something?”

You scowl. “It’s peeing on a stick, I think I’ve got it covered.”

“Yeah, well, knowing you, you’d find a way to fuck it up.” He smirks. “Sure hope our baby gets my brains instead of yours.”

You grab the pillow beside him and give him a firm whack. “That’s not funny.”

He laughs as he winces. “Good. I wasn’t being funny.”

“Then, stop it. And stop being so calm.”

“You just said you preferred calm—”

“Well…it’s scaring me now. So what gives?”

Another shrug. “I don’t know. I just don’t really feel the need to waste a reaction on something we don’t even know is happening yet. Take the test and then I’ll freak out if you’d like.”

“You say that like someone that’s had a lot of pregnancy scares.”

He snorts. “No, I say that like someone who knows freaking out won’t exactly help you right now. So just take the goddamn test, Tinkerbell. And we’ll go from there.”

Unamused, but somehow slightly comforted, you oblige and snatch the box from the table before retreating to the bathroom.

Once the timer has been set, you slowly make your way back to him.

He’s still sitting on the sofa. Calm. Unaffected. Watching you without a care in the world. Like his whole life isn’t about to change. 

It drives you nuts.

“Five minutes,” you tell him.

He nods.

Warily, you sit in the chair to his left, staring holes through your shoes as your heart races inside your chest. You’re not sure how you got here. Not sure where you could possibly go. You aren’t ready for a baby. Not…yet. Especially not one with…him.

“Hey,” he calls, pulling your attention up. “S’the matter with you?”

Your eyes narrow. “What the hell do you think?”

Another casual shrug that makes your teeth grit. “I thought you’d be happy.”

“Happy?” You lean back. “Why on Earth would I be happy about getting stuck with your DNA for the rest of my life?”

He smiles. “I don’t know. You just seem like the type of girl to want a lot of babies.”

You scoff. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I am not.” You don’t think.

“Really? Is that why you begged me to breed you?”

“I didn’t actually mean it. That’s just what you say in a moment like that.”

His eyebrow raises.

You hesitate. “Did…did you mean it?”

“Kind of,” he admits. “I mean, yeah, maybe I didn’t mean right this second, but…I don’t hate the idea.”

“You actually want to be a father?” You snort. “Bullshit. You hate kids. I’ve seen you.”

“I don’t hate kids, I just don’t care about them when they aren’t mine.” He throws his arm over the back of the chair and smirks. “I like my nieces, though. They’re chill.”

You blink. “You…you have nieces? Wait, you have siblings?”

“Yeah. One brother. He’s got two kids and they’re cute as shit.”

“Oh.” Your head starts to pound. “See? We can’t have a baby when I don’t even know anything about you.”

He chuckles to himself before nodding his chin at you. “All right, fine. Go ahead. Ask me whatever.”

“What?”

“Ask me what you wanna know.”

You think. “Okay. How often do you see your family?”

“Often enough. They live in California, and they work a lot. But we call every couple of weeks.”

“Oh. That’s…surprisingly nice. Uh…do you have a history of disease in your family?”

He grins. “Excuse me?”

“I need to know what I’m getting myself into.” You motion at him. “Answer.”

“This isn’t an interview—”

“Answer.”

“No,” he says. “Not that I know of anyway.”

“Great. Do you plan to be a deadbeat father?”

His eyes roll. “I’m not dignifying that with a response.”

“So, yes? You do? Oh, great—”

“No, because that’s not a fair fucking question—”

“It is a fair question. If I have to raise this baby alone, I want to know—”

“Of course you wouldn’t fucking be alone. Do you really think so little of me—”

“I don’t think about you at all. How am I supposed to know what you’ll do—”

“I wouldn’t leave you alone,” he nearly snaps. He takes a breath to calm himself before adding, “Even if it wasn’t my baby, I wouldn’t leave you alone.”

Your lashes flutter and you can feel your heart lodging in your throat. “Fine. Last question.”

He waits.

“Did you ever want kids…before? With…her?”

He doesn’t have to think for very long, but the mention of her makes him smile. “Nah. We talked about it, but we weren’t ready. We liked it being just us, you know? We had a bunch of shit we wanted to do. We were a long way from babies and a white picket fence.”

You try to blink back the tears swimming their way to your eye. You can still see that beautiful picture of her in his room. An entire future of love and life and adventures that he lost. Now…he’s stuck with you.

“Oh,” you murmur.

His brows furrow. “What?”

“Nothing.” You swipe your knuckle along your cheek. “So, you probably still aren’t ready.”

“I didn’t say that.”

You give him an incredulous look. “Harry, come on. You aren’t ready for a baby. I’m not ready for a baby. We…we don’t know each other, we don’t like each other…we can’t do this. You know that.”

“Do I?” He leans forward. “It’s a baby, not a bomb. I think we can handle it.”

“Well, I don’t. You don’t even like me. You can’t have a baby with me.”

“Why not? People do it all the time.”

“But not us.” You give him a firm stare. “Harry, we love our jobs. We want careers, not kids. So having a baby kind of gets in the way of that. There’s…there’s diaper changes, and teething, and potty training—”

“So?”

“So. We don’t work together well. In fact, it’s a rather well-known fact that we don’t get along. We can’t possibly raise a kid. We’d ruin it.” You study him for a beat, unnerved by the nonchalance in his tone. “Why do I get the feeling you actually want this to be real?”

Another shrug and you nearly lunge at him. “I don’t know,” he murmurs, resting his elbows on his knees while he glances at the floor. “I’m older now. Maybe it’s time to…think about settling down.”

Your face scrunches. “Ew. That doesn’t sound like you at all.”

He laughs. “Look, I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it, but…maybe it could be a good thing.”

You stand from your chair and pace the length of your small living room. “This is crazy. This is crazy. I can’t have a baby, I’m…I’m not ready. I’m too young, I…I don’t even know what I’d do with one. Or if I even have a maternal instinct.”

“Probably not,” Harry offers, smirking when you glare. “You won’t really know until you have one.”

“Oh, great.”

“Listen, if you feel like you aren’t ready…we can find another alternative,” he says, softening his voice. “Okay? There are plenty of other options and we’ll find one you feel comfortable with.”

A tad wary of his sympathetic answer, you eye him closely. “Yeah? And what if we disagree?”

“We won’t,” he says calmly. “Your body, your decision.”

“Right,” you snort. “I’m sure.”

“I mean it. I wouldn’t be the one having to carry it.” He nods as though to reassure you. “Honestly, Tink. This would be your decision, one hundred percent. It’s not mine to make. Just to support.”

The tears rush a little faster as you sniffle and step closer. “You say that now, but what if I decide something you don’t like?”

“I will like it. I promise,” he murmurs, standing up in order to move toward you. “If you want to keep it, great. If you don’t, great.”

“I…I…” You suck in a deep breath, unable to slow the wild racing in your chest. “Fuck, I can’t…I don’t know—”

“Hey, okay, easy. Easy, Princess,” he says, quickly reaching out to take you in his arms and ease you against his chest. “Relax. Okay? Just breathe. Breathe for me.”

“I…I don’t think I can—”

“Yes, you can. You are.” His lips press to the top of your head while his hand runs up and down your back soothingly. “I’m right here. Do you hear me? I’m right here. You’re not alone. You won’t be alone. I promise.”

You squeeze your arms together and hold on with everything you have. Right now, he feels like your only anchor in the world. The only person strong enough to carry you both through to the other side. And for the first time since you met him…you feel glad that he’s here.

The two of you stand in the middle of the room for a long while before he finally murmurs, “I think it’s been five minutes.”

Your eyes close and you grip his shirt in your first. “I’m…I’m not ready to look.”

“Okay.” You can hear the smile in his response. “Okay, we can wait.”

So, you do as the truth starts to build in your chest. Inescapable, no matter how hard you try to swallow it down.

Finally, you can’t help but whisper, “You know what scares me the most?”

“Hm?”

“…that maybe I’m hoping it’s real.”

The apartment falls silent again. He doesn’t push you to elaborate, but you can feel his heart beating just a little faster inside his chest.

“I don’t know why,” you continue. “I don’t…I really don’t think I’m ready, but…but what if I should be? What if…what if we met and we started this because…because we were supposed to do this?”

He considers this. “Like fate.”

“Yeah.” You roll your lips into your mouth. “Because I still hate you. I do. I just…I’m starting to get this picture in my head of us. Being a family. Having a big house in a good school district. Tucking them into bed at night and reading them stories. Which is…dumb.”

“No,” he mumbles. “No, it’s not dumb. I’ve been thinking about it, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Because I meant what I said, I’d love to get you pregnant. You’d look really fucking hot.”

You chuckle. “Yes, so you’ve mentioned.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Uh…okay?”

He smirks. “I never had a breeding kink until I met you.”

You lean back and swat your hand across his chest. “You’re so annoying.”

“What? I’m being serious.” He grins and those dimples pop free. God, you hope your kids have his dimples—

No. Nope. You aren’t going there.

You shake your head, ridding yourself of the thought. “Whatever. You’re just horny.”

“Maybe. But it’s still true.” His gentle gaze sweeps across your face. “If you wanna do this…we’ll do it. You and me. We’ll have this baby, and we’ll raise it to be really smart, and funny, and to not take shit from anybody.”

You laugh, brushing away a few more tears. “Maybe we can teach it to write code.”

“Oh, fucking obviously.”

The two of you smile before the excitement seems to fizzle and Harry’s brows pull together.

“You know I don’t actually hate you, right?” he says.

You blink. “What?”

“I know that’s our thing, and I know you said it earlier, but…I don’t actually hate you. This baby wouldn’t grow up with two parents that don’t like each other.”

“Oh…I…I know.”

“Good. Because I don’t want that to be one of the reasons you think we can’t do it. I’d fucking love that baby. And I’d love you for carrying it.”

Instantly, you both seem to still. The four-letter word sounds so loud inside such a small room.

I’d love you.

He clears his throat, shifting a bit as he glances toward the kitchen. “I mean, I’d…I’d appreciate you for carrying it—”

“No, yeah, I know,” you stammer. “I know what you mean.”

“Good. Yeah.”

The two of you fall quiet again before you softly admit, “I think I’m ready to look.”

“Okay.” He squeezes your hip. “I’m right here.”

You take in a deep breath before begrudgingly pulling yourself out of his arms. You already miss his warmth and the way he felt like home and your stomach turns as you slip into the bathroom.

With trembling hands, you reach for the stick that sits on the edge of your sink. And in those three seconds, an entire lifetime flashes before your eyes. 

The good, the bad, and the everything in-between. You see a house and a dog and a big backyard. You see two little kids rolling in the grass and jumping into the pool. You hear them begging for a bedtime story and crying when they scrape their knee.

You see a dozen birthdays and holidays and visits to the zoo. You see their heartbreaks and triumphs, their successes and letdowns. You see a million goodnight kisses and cuddles on the couch. 

And then…you see Harry.

In every picture, every moment. Taking them to their first baseball game and picking them up from their first dance. Sneaking them into R-rated movies even after you explicitly said no and feeding them far too much candy and popcorn.

You see him teach your son how to tie a tie and dance with your daughter as she stands on his feet. You see him cooking breakfast in the kitchen, flour all over his face. You see him curled up in bed, his head on your chest, your fingers in his hair. You hear him tell you how happy he is. How glad that he found you.

It’s a beautiful life. Even if it’s not the one you imagined for yourself. And in that moment, you decide that it doesn’t matter what the test says. If that’s your future, so be it. 

As long as you get to live it with him.

“So?” Harry calls from the hall.

You swallow thickly and slowly glance down.

Negative.

Negative.

No baby. No pregnancy. No white-picket fence.

You stare at the test for at least a full minute. You aren’t sure how you feel. Relieved. Disappointed. Upset. Thankful. Confused.

“Tink?”

You turn around. “Uh…it’s negative,” you report, handing it to him. “False alarm. I guess I’m just late.”

He glances over the stick with a rather blank expression before looking at you. “Are you okay?”

You nod. “Yeah. This is definitely the better outcome. I’m just…”

“What?”

“I don’t know. I guess I was just starting to get used to the idea.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, handing it back. “I know.”

You throw the test away. “Sorry for making you come all the way over here for that.”

“Hey, whoa—” He strides into the bathroom. “What the fuck are you talking about? Of course I’d be here.”

“I just…I wasted your time. I should have taken it before I called you—”

“Tink,” he sighs, taking your cheeks in his hands. “Stop. You can always call me for shit like this.” He looks at you, then amends, “You can always me. For anything. You know that.”

A tear slips from your eye without warning, and you suck in a sharp breath. “I don’t know why I’m so disappointed. This is what I wanted—”

“I know,” he says gently. “I know. It’s hard.”

“Yeah.” You hiccup. “But this is good, right? This is better?”

For a moment, he says nothing. He simply stares at you with a rather sympathetic expression. Or maybe it’s forlorn. Maybe he’s disappointed. Upset that you aren’t giving him what he wants.

Then, he dips down to kiss the tip of your nose. “This is good,” he whispers, and you know he means it. “We would have figured it out. And you would have been a wonderful mom. But I know you. And I know you aren’t ready. Not yet.”

You close your eyes and melt into the feel of his palms against your skin. Into the way he reassures you and protects you all in the same breath. You never thought you’d feel so safe in the serenity of his touch, but here you are. Wishing for him to hold you forever.

“And when we are ready, we’ll do it on our terms,” he says. “Okay?”

Slowly, you nod. “This is good,” you repeat to yourself. “It is. Really. Things are going great at work, I’m finally secure financially, and even you and I are…kind of getting along.”

He smirks.

“This is good. This is better.” You repeat the mantra until you really believe it. “Besides, I probably wouldn’t have been a very good pregnant woman anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I feel like I’d be really cranky. Or needy. My ankles would get all swollen and I’d be hot all the time and nauseous and miserable. I’d probably try to kill you.”

“Oh, you’d definitely try to kill me. You try to kill me even when you aren’t pregnant.”

You gasp. “Rude.”

“What?” He chuckles again before his eyes slowly start to rake down your frame. “But I don’t know. I think it’ll be better than you think.”

You swat him again. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop trying to picture it.”

“Why? I told you, you’d look fucking hot.”

“Yeah…no.”

However, he only nods, moving in to subtly brush his lips against yours. “You would. Be so fucking beautiful carrying our baby. With your tits all swollen and your belly getting bigger every day.”

Truthfully, the image almost makes you grimace, but there’s something about the way he says it. The way he talks about you so reverently. A soft, sultry murmur that goes straight to your cunt. Because you know he’s not just saying it to say it. He means it. Believes it. Would do anything for it.

He tilts your head back, thumb brushing along your jaw. “And I think you like it,” he exhales. “I think you like the idea of holding me inside you. Having a part of me. Knowing that I did it to you. No one else.”

You suck in a soft breath, knees going just a bit weak. “Harry…”

“What, baby?” His mouth ghosts along your neck. “Are you thinking about it? Thinking about how pretty your tummy would look with me inside it?”

He’s evil. Absolutely evil, and you clear your throat in a desperate attempt to regain control of yourself. “Do you…have a pregnancy kink I don’t know about?” 

His lips quirk up. “Apparently.”

“Mm.” Your lashes flutter and the urge to kiss him grows stronger. “You know…some women get really horny when they’re pregnant.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Yeah. I don’t think you could handle it.”

He scoffs. “Oh, no?”

You shake your head. “I mean, do you really think you could keep up? Going for hours and hours on end? Trying to keep me satiated with your poor, limp little dick?”

He makes another noise, and you tsk.

“I mean, you can barely satisfy me now as it is. But if I was pregnant? Pfft. Forget it.”

Instantly, he’s snatching hold of your hips and yanking you against his chest. “Don’t fucking tempt me, Princess,” he nearly growls. “I’ll bend you over right now.”

“No, I don’t think you will,” you retort. “You’ve gone soft on me. Rubbing my back, kissing my hair. You wanna take care of me and honestly? It’s a little pathetic.”

His head cocks rather deviously and your pulse begins to skip. He could split you in half if he wanted to and you both know it. 

But that’s what you need right now. You don’t want to be coddled or looked after. You wanna be fucked. Tortured and teased until you’re begging for release.

You want an escape.

And in that moment, Harry decides to give you one.

He picks you up and carries you out of the bathroom while your legs quickly work to hook to his hips for stability and your arms snake around his neck.

He ignores your squeals and teasing huffs of annoyance, instead dropping you onto your mattress with a soft thud.

You glare and push up onto your elbows. “You know, you don’t have to manhandle me—”

“Shut up.”

He surges forward, lips gliding against yours as he takes a taste of you on his tongue. And kissing is easy with him. As easy breathing, like you’ve done it all your life. You know exactly what he likes, what he wants. And you give it him.

His glasses are cold against your face, keeping him from getting as close as he’d like, and after a moment, he huffs, and rips them off before tossing them aside. And even though you adore when he wears them, you happen to adore being near him even more.

Your hands are in his hair, tugging on his curls, scratching down his neck. He has the added advantage of being on top, but that doesn’t seem to stop him from turning to putty in your hands. Clay for you to mold to your liking. 

No matter how dominant he tries to be, he’s simply a man that needs to be told what to do. Taken care of. Shown. 

And you happen to like showing him.

You feel him tug on the hem of your shirt. “Off,” he breathes between carnal nips to your throat. “I want this off, Tink.”

Happy to oblige, you push him back so you can lift yourself up before you peel the fabric from your chest. You take your time with the bra, allowing the straps to fall down your arms oh so slowly. You don’t rush to reveal yourself to him, instead letting him anticipate you. Until his heart is racing and his eyes are darkening and he’s resisting the urge to do it himself.

But once he can finally see you, he nearly groans. “Oh, good fucking girl.” 

He resumes his work. More kisses are left to the warm, tender skin, and he happily sucks bruises into each swell and curve of your breast before teasing the nipple with his tongue. His hands are greedy—ravenous. Pulling at your flesh, clawing his way along your frame. 

When he reaches your thighs, you whimper. You’ve missed the way he touches you. The way he pries your legs apart and makes a home between.

In a rush, he snaps your panties off into his fist and you toss him a punishing glare.

He smiles.

You rid each other of your remaining clothes in a frantic fashion until they’re nothing more than a dirty pile on the floor. Messy and familiar. Fated.

He drops down onto the bed back first, effortlessly swapping positions as you’re placed in a straddle over his waist.

“Good girl, let me see you,” he murmurs, running his fingers down your cheek before grabbing your jaw. “Go ahead.”

You reach down and take his hardening cock in your hand, running it along your cunt before teasing yourself with the tip. 

“Didn’t stretch you,” he mumbles, leaving a few stray kisses to your collarbone. “S’might hurt, so—”

You push him in, simultaneously sinking down in an effort to feel a more prominent burn., and you both make a rather lewd noise as the grip on your chin tightens.

“Tink,” he hisses with a punishing look of his own. “Careful—”

You drop yourself further, muscles tensing around the thickness until your thighs begin to shake.

“Hey—” He forces your eyes on his. “Enough. Be gentle, m’not gonna hurt you—”

“I want you to,” you pant. “Please. I need it. I…fuck, Har, I need it. Please…please.”

He’s still frowning but his expression softens. “Baby…not like this. Maybe we should wait until you’re feeling better—"

“No,” you whimper. Desperate. Fraught. “Harry, please, don’t stop. Don’t make me stop—”

“Hey, easy, easy.” He pulls your forehead to his. “Breathe. It’s okay.”

You try to obey. Try to suck in a strangled gasp of air but it’s useless. He’s gonna take himself from you. He’s gonna leave, and you’ll be empty, and alone, and maybe he won’t ever touch you again—

He places his palm on your chest, right over your heart. “Breathe,” he says again. Soft. Quiet. “In then out. Good girl, just like that.”

You follow the sound of his voice. Mimic his inhales and exhales until the two of you fall into a synchronized rhythm. 

“Good,” he says again, rubbing his other hand along your back. “There you go. You’re all right, I’ve got you. Yeah?”

Weakly, you nod. “I’m…I’m sorry. I just…I—”

“Shh.” He kisses your nose. “You’re okay, Tink. I know.”

A long moment passes before you finally feel in control of your own heart again and once you blink the fog from your eye, you see him. Delicate and strong at the same time.

He sweeps his thumb along your lip. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you admit. “Really, I just…I needed to feel you. And I wanted to…move on, I guess. Think about something else. Lose myself for a bit.”

He sighs but nods his understanding. “You could have told me that.”

“I know. I guess I’m just not used to sharing things with you.”

“I know,” he echoes with a small grin. “But we’ll learn, yeah?”

Your gaze grows suspicious. “And why would we do that?”

“Because,” he says simply. “If we’re gonna make a bunch of hot, smart babies one day, we’re gonna have to communicate.”

You snort. “Yeah, well, that won’t be for a while.”

“Fine. Just gives us more time to practice.”

Your eyes narrow. “You really have gone soft on me, haven’t you? All because you thought I was pregnant."

He laughs, fingers slipping around the back of your neck to pull you in for a kiss. “I’d argue I’m actually quite hard right now.”

“Ha. Funny.”

“I can hate you and like you at the same time, right?” he teases. “Because I think that’s my sweet spot. Wanting to kill you and fuck you all at once.”

“Agreed. You’re insufferable but you’re also one of my favorite people. Which only makes you more insufferable.”

“Yeah.” He smiles. “I think we earned a little civility, no?”

You nod and take his lip between your teeth. “And I think we should celebrate with an orgasm.”

He laughs again. “I suppose that’s only fair.”

You dance your kisses down his chest, enjoying the way his head drops back while he sighs at the feel of your tongue. He’s so beautiful and so good and if you’re going to lose yourself, you want to lose yourself in him.

Leaning back, brace your hands behind you on his knees, and start to bounce yourself on his cock. Over and over, faster and faster, until he’s grabbing onto your hips and giving them a firm, encouraging squeeze to help you along.

Your tits bounce right in his face, and he takes advantage of his front row seat, allowing his hands to trace and tease your nipples as you whine. He sucks them into his mouth and pulls them with his teeth. It sends chills along your spine and goosebumps along your arms and when he notices, he smirks.

 Not even a minute later, he’s pulling you down so your chest meets his. His hands land on your ass with a firm grip and he drags you along his cock. Slow and sensual until your eyes flutter shut, and you disappear into the building pleasure.

You feel his kisses on your ribcage as he begins to thrust up into you. Returning to the pace you previously set until you’re both chasing that familiar high. 

“There you go,” he praises through gritted teeth. “Fuck yeah, just like that—”

“Harry,” you mewl, fingers tangling in his hair. “Shit, please—”

“I know.” He leaves another kiss to the inside of your arm before he smacks your left ass cheek. “I got you, Princess. S’okay. Keep going.”

You grind yourself over his lap, knees hugging his waist as you bury yourself in the crook of his neck. Needy. Anxious. You match each other’s rhythm and it’s a dance. An effortless fluidity that brings you closer than ever before.

Then, he sucks two fingers into your mouth, and moves them between your cheeks. He grazes them over your tighter hole, gently teasing them over the other entrance before dropping them down to where his cock is fucking into your cunt. He plays with you a bit, pushing you just a bit closer while you wail—depraved—and beg for more.

“My good girl,” he praises. He spanks you again. “Fuck—that’s it, baby.”

Your staccato whimpers are consistent now. One for every thrust and you can almost taste his desperation as he turns his head in order to kiss your cheek. The sound of skin against skin is crude and delicious. The way your body slides against his. Like butter on a hot day, melting together.

He goes faster, pulls you harder. Fingers digging into your skin so hard it almost hurts. But in the best possible way. In turn, you brace yourself with a palm on his throat. Squeezing it tight as you start to get closer. 

“Yeah,” he groans. “Shit…harder—”

You obey, pinching the sides of his neck until his eyes roll back. 

You can feel his heart racing against yours. You’re both warm. Hot. Shaking. A tangled mess of limps and depraved grinding like animals in heat.

“M’almost…m’almost there,” you whisper.

He nods, looking down your body to watch the way your ass bounces in his hands. “Go. S’okay, go. Let me feel you.”

He leaves more kisses to your side and the tender way his lips feel against your skin makes your brain go fuzzy. 

You grip his throat a bit tighter and just like that…it’s over.

The two of you cum together, the room filling with moans and gasps and promises. He settles beneath you while you ride out the rest of your high but he makes sure to keep his arm around you through every second.

Once you finally catch your breath, he hums. “God-fucking-damn.”

You grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He turns to see you. “I think I’m pregnant.”

You roll your eyes with a swat to his chest but you’re laughing. “You’re so annoying.”

“And yet you still like me.”

“I never said that.”

“You said I’m your favorite person.”

“Yeah, well, I lied.”

“Right.” He helps you ease him out before he’s flipping you around and moving himself between your legs.   

You blink. “What the hell are you doing?”

He lifts two fingers and eases them along your swollen pussy. Collecting the white, sticky substance already leaking out before easily pushing it back in.

“Harry,” you scold. “I think we’ve had enough breeding for one day.”

He smirks. “Relax, Tink, m’not breeding you. I just…like to see it drip out.”

Your heart leaps. “…oh.”

“Yeah.” He rests his cheek against the inside of your thigh in order to watch. “S’always so fucking pretty.”

You reach down and card your fingers through his sweaty curls. Happy and content for the first time in days.

He looks up. “One day,” he promises, even though it sounds more like a question.

But somehow, in this moment, it makes everything else worth it.

You grin.

“One day.”

AAA I can’t believe we finally did it!! I’m not gonna lie them being soft with each other is gross 😭 BUT ALSO CUTE!! YAY PROGRESS!!

Thank you so much for reading and for always being so nice!! 🥹💞💞 and of course thank you for the amazing idea hehe

Also, if you see any mistakes……no you don’t 🫶

~  Full 404 Masterlist

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@lovrave @nuggetdean @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @babegoals @lc-fics

[bahablastplz]

BF! SKZ finding out you've never cum

Pairing: OT8 x Reader Warnings: Explicit content! MDNI WC: 5200

Bang Chan:

“Oh really?” he asks, ears going red. He looks away, staring at the ceiling before glancing back at you. “Never?” you shook your head. He tongues the inside of his cheek and you fidget under his sudden intense gaze. 

“Do you wanna…” you bite your lip, thinking for a moment. “Would you want to help me try?” His eyes go wide for a second before looking at you. 

“You want me to?” he asks, shy. You nod your head and press your thighs together. 

Your boyfriend is hot. There’s no denying that fact, even now as he sits across from you in a black tank top and a pair of grey sweats. Even without trying, he’s effortlessly sexy. Though the relationship is new, you aren’t a stranger to makeout sessions and Chan, well it’s just in his nature to walk around and sleep naked. So, even though this would be your first time… you’ve wanted him. Craved his touch from the first moment he kissed you. So when he asks “Are you sure?” You don’t even hesitate before answering “Yes.” 

He pulls you to his chest. You immediately get chills as you feel his breath on your neck, your back pressed against his front. You can feel the sizeable bulge in his sweats pressed against you and as much as you want to press against it, to turn this onto him, when his hand snakes down your front you throw your head back and focus on the pleasure he’s giving you. His mouth is on your jaw and your neck and long gone is that shy act–you know exactly who you’re dealing with now. The man who isn’t afraid to take his shirt off on stage. The man who shamelessly flirts with Stays. 

“You already look so pretty for me,” he says into your ear. You can tell he’s smiling without looking at him. “I’ve barely even touched you and you’re already so wrecked for me?” You nod fervently as he hikes your shirt up, revealing you to him. “Say stop at any time,” he tells you with a kiss. The ever-caring lover you’ve fallen in love with, even when at his sexiest can’t not check in with you. He makes you watch every movement, every flick of his hand against your nipples. His warm breath and tongue against your skin, the absolutely filthy words he whispers in your ears when you aren’t looking him in the eyes. 

It feels so natural when his hand connects with your core and you’re already soaking wet. It takes him by surprise and he almost pulls his hands out of your shorts but you close your thighs around him, needy and desperate for his touch. 

“Please,” you say, looking up and blinking at him. You can tell a comment is on the tip of his tongue, something about you being so wet or needy for him but you silence him with a kiss. His deft, knobby fingers slide into you then and he smirks, smirks at the effect he has on you. His fingers are long, skillful in the way that every touch is purposeful. He reaches spots that you couldn’t possibly reach with your own fingers and he touches your body as if he has memorized every inch of you already. 

“Chris,” you whine, and that affects him in ways you don’t even know. You can feel him grow even harder behind you and he even ruts his hips into your back, groaning at the friction. He focuses on you though, one hand snaking up to rest on your neck. 

You’re close. You’re close and he knows it and he touches you now with the intent of getting you to finish. He whispers and groans the filthiest shit in your ear until you’re burning up, absolutely flushed from all the things he tells you he wants to do to you. 

You’re not surprised with how little effort it takes for him to push you over the edge. You pulse around his fingers as he keeps the same pace. He made you cum and he didn’t even have to take off your pants. You’re impressed but you know he would never take the compliment, that he would brush it off and turn red as if he didn’t just wreck you. He pulls his fingers from your center once you’ve come down from your high, sticking them into his mouth and moaning around his fingers. 

“God that was hot,” he laughs. 

You throw your arm over your face in embarrassment and he showers your face with kisses. 

His arms tighten around you and he rocks you back and forth, giddy until you’re both a giggling mess. 

Lee Know:

“Ahhh,” he nods. “I see.” He looks at you and where his hands rest underneath your shirt, playing with the hem. He thinks for a moment, biting his lip as he thinks of a way that he can help you without making you uncomfortable. An idea pops in his head and he looks at you and smirks, eyes dark with mischief. 

He spreads his legs then, his muscular thighs straining the fabric of his jeans. You would be blind to not notice the large bulge straining for some relief but he tsks and guides your vision to his face. You go red-hot from being caught staring and he all but coos, grabbing your waist so that you’re straddling one, muscular thigh. 

“Min–” 

“You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he prefaces and he blows a strand of hair away from his face. God he’s so gorgeous that it’s lethal, knocking your breath out from your chest with one stare. “But, if you want, you can grind your pretty pussy on my thigh. You do all the work and I’ll just watch you, yeah?” 

You feel shy from his gaze all of a sudden and he silences your thoughts with a kiss to your lips, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth. He can’t stop his mouth from connecting to your skin, leaving hot wet kisses along your jaw, neck, and ear. When he nibbles on your ear and you feel his hot breath against you, you can’t help it when your hips kick forward desperate to get some friction. 

“That’s it,” he groans. “Just like that.” Tentatively you roll your hips against the fabric again, head lolling back at the delicious friction it causes between your legs. True to his word he lets you do all the work, arms crossed behind his head and eyes heavy as he drinks you in. He smiles a familiar grin that causes you to heat up, one that’s smug but offensively gorgeous. 

You feel spurred on by the look he’s giving you and the feeling between your legs and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips when he tenses his thigh. 

“Fuck, you look good like this,” he says softly. You’re rocking yourself back and forth on him in earnest now, feeling your high start to build up. But you’re sensitive now and you’re starting to lose your rhythm, your hips becoming tired. 

“Min I can’t,” you whine, losing that feeling that had slowly started to build. 

“I gotcha,” he says, grabbing your hips for you. He rocks you back and forth using his own strength, not forgetting to push his thigh harder against your core. He works you back up embarrassingly fast and before you know it you’re spilling over the edge with your back arched and a loud cry. Just as he allows you to slow down he presses a kiss against your lips, breathing in your moans. You slump against his shoulder then and he strokes your back. “Beautiful,” he whispers. 

Changbin: Changbin doesn’t react at all when you tell him. His arms are full of you, who is currently straddling his lap happily. Your makeout session was starting to get a little intense and you could tell that it was likely to escalate–which you had no problem with, but you couldn’t stop the confession from releasing from your lips. 

He stares at you. No acknowledgement whatsoever. You gulp nervously… any reaction would be better than no reaction, you think. 

“Bin?” you ask, breaking his focus. You’re worried that you ruined the mood, suddenly anxious. “Should I not have said that? We can stop,” you say, lifting your hips to get off of him when he grabs your waist, setting you down flush against his hips. 

“Sorry,” he smiles sheepishly. “I think… I was flustered.” 

“Huh?”

“That turned me on more than it should have,” he admits with a small smile, staring at the wall next to him. You coo at the blush on his face, his ears turning suddenly red. His bulge pressing into your clothed core further proves his point–he wasn’t lying. You hate to admit how turned on you are now too, his thick cock pressing against you making less-than-pure thoughts run through your head. 

Your lips reattach to his in a messy kiss and your hands are everywhere, feeling his broad, toned pecs, his muscular shoulders, his tummy… You press kisses against his throat, his collarbone, his sternum and you can feel his cock twitch in his sweats. The thought that he’s just as aroused as you are, with your panties probably soaked from your arousal, pushes you even further. You rock yourself against his clothed cock, relishing in the way it presses against your clit just right. The groan he lets out is heavenly, his head thrown back in bliss. This gives you the perfect opportunity to lean forward and bite the junction between his neck and shoulder, sucking a pretty purplish-red mark in its wake.

His hips thrust up on instinct and you whine… This must have been the breaking point, you think, because he grabs your hips so tightly you think they will bruise… and he thrusts his hips up into yours so harshly that you let out a shriek in surprise. 

“Fuck… is this okay?” he asks, looking utterly debauched. You nod, trying to rock your hips in tandem but his grip is too tight–he’s in control. He’s lifted you up off of him a few inches and pistons his hard bulge into your core, the same way he would if he were fucking you. His cock slides deliciously against your clit every time and though you don’t know the feeling, you think your high is starting to build up. 

“Just like that, Bin,” you tell him, scrunching your eyes shut and throwing your head back. 

He growls. “You like that? You like when my cock touches your pretty pussy? You’re soaking me, fuck. I’m gonna cum, gonna cum in my pants you’re so hot, baby.” 

You feel your core start to tighten and his hand tightens in your hair, grabbing your face to push your lips against his in a hard but messy kiss. The second your lips come in contact you start to cum, spasming around nothing as he continues to drill his cock against you. 

It takes only a few seconds for Changbin to cum too, grabbing your hips and holding you tight against his bulge. You feel him pulsing in his pants, thick spurts of his arousal shooting out and soaking the sweats. It’s so erotic and he is a sight to behold when he cums, sweat glistening across his forehead and the veins of his forearms protruding from where he holds you tight. 

When he looks up at you he has the audacity to look sheepish again. You smack his shoulder lightly with a smile. “No need to be shy on me now,” you tease. He lifts you up, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist and your arms slung around his neck. 

“Wanna take this to the bedroom?” he chuckles. You answer him with a kiss.

Hyunjin: Hyunjin lets out a gasp as if what you have just told him is heresy. Ever the drama-queen, you have to remind your boyfriend to keep his voice down–you’re in public. You’re not even sure how the topic came up, honestly, and part of you wishes that you had kept this information to yourself. Hyunjin, the man that he is, cannot let you keep anything to yourself. He instantly pries for the details despite your red-hot face. 

“How often have you tried?” he asks, more excited than he should be. “You have tried, right? You just can’t…” you slap a hand over his mouth, looking around you. 

“We can talk about this later,” you hiss. He gives you a giddy smile. You can tell he won’t forget about this. 

Sure enough, he’s back on you the moment you walk through the door. 

“Why do you care so much?” you groan. 

“Because that means I get to help you,” he says with a glint in his eyes. “I get to be your first.” Oh. Oh. Well, maybe you like that idea more than you’re willing to admit. 

“Can I? Would you let me?” 

“Hyune, how would you even–” 

You let out a yelp when he rolls onto your back, rolling you on top of him. 

“You could sit on my face,” he suggests. He must see your hesitation because he calms you down by rubbing your thighs. “Grind your pretty cunt all over my tongue.” 

You squeeze your legs together from where you sit on top of him, ineffective due to Hyunjin’s broad frame below you. 

“Are you sure?” you ask. “It’s just… what if I hurt you? What if you don’t like it, or you can’t breathe–”

“Shh, pretty,” he coos. “It only matters if you like it, but trust me I’ll like it too. I can tap your thigh if I need to breathe. You won’t hurt me, okay? You can go as crazy as you’d like.” 

Reluctantly (and a bit nervously), you agree, rolling off of him to take off your pants. You’re already insanely aroused, embarrassingly so just from seeing the gorgeous man beneath you, rock hard in his pants. As you timidly straddle his face, you’re surprised when he pulls your core right onto his face. 

“Hyunjin!” you cry, jerking up. 

“Relax,” he smiles. “No need to be shy. Actually sit.” He lightly taps your ass and you lower yourself onto him, letting out a sigh when he swipes his tongue through your folds. He moans into your center, mumbling something akin to ‘tastes good’ and you relax. When his tongue circles your clit you think electricity has spread throughout your entire body and you lurch forward, his grip on your thighs unwavering. 

“Shit, Hyune, that feels good,” you tell him, his tongue alternating between sucking and flicking your clit to shallowly fucking your hole. You can’t help but rock back and forth on his face, any inhibitions thrown out the window. He groans and sighs into your cunt, clearly enjoying himself as well. He works you up surprisingly fast and he sticks his tongue out wide, letting you ride it and pleasure yourself on it the way you want. His tongue is warm and wet and feels heavenly against your folds and you grind yourself to a finish, his grip on your hips helping to aid you to your release. 

He wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, releasing with a pop as he gently licks up your release. You roll off of him and catch your breath, staring at the ceiling in awe. 

“Was it everything you’ve ever dreamed of?” he asks breathlessly, licking his lips of your arousal. “We’re going to need to do that again,” you laugh incredulously. “Your tongue… no wonder I couldn’t get myself off if that’s what I was missing.” He laughs and rolls on top of you, pressing a long kiss against your lips. He tastes of you and that somehow makes it even better.

Han:

You flush when he makes the suggestion. Mutual masturbation. “I have a hard time… I’ve never been able to make myself finish before, though,” you remind him. 

“Yeah yeah, I know,” he says. “But it’ll be hot. And maybe it can help you…”

“But what if you finish first?” you ask him. “Won’t that be… unsexy?” “Unsexy? God no,” he laughs “If anything, I can help you finish after, if you want.” 

“O…Okay,” you agree. The kisses start off messy and you find yourself wanting to wrap your hands around his waist. “No… no touching,” he tells you. “Just kissing. No touching one another’s bodies. It will make it feel better. It will be sexier if we can just… watch.” You agree with him. The wet, sloppy kisses come to an end with a string of saliva connecting you too. You watch intently as he palms himself through his sweats, grabbing his length with a groan. 

“You make me so hard, baby,” he tells you. You feel entranced, lifting up your shirt and playing with your chest as he watches. You grope yourself, teasing your nipples while your gaze never leaves his, the way his eyes stare at you and each movement has you unknowingly biting your lip. 

He pulls his sweats down and palms himself through his underwear before stroking his cock through the fabric, hissing at the friction. Feeling bold, you free yourself of your underwear and move so that he can get a better view. His eyes look so wide and full of lust as he finally frees his cock and starts touching himself properly. He was right. It was erotic for sure. You couldn’t help how turned on you felt as you touched yourself, shallowly fucking yourself with one finger as he watches. He’s beautiful. This is a fact you have always known but right now, as he fists his cock and his hips jump up to meet his hand you can’t help but admire how beautiful, his brows furrowed and eyes struggling to remain watching you. 

This is the first time you’ve properly seen one another without clothes on, and while you have had a few intense makeout sessions and heavy petting, you have yet to go this far. You can’t say you regret it when his whines are so perfect, his neediness as he throws his head back and touches himself with such a vice grip. 

“You’re so hot,” you tell him and he moans. 

You fuck yourself even harder on your fingers, trying to bring yourself close to the edge. He watches when you start squelching around your fingers, so wet that the sound is borderline obscene. You can tell he’s close even though you’re struggling, but you swear you have never been closer to orgasm than when you saw Jisung cum all over himself, shooting his release on his stomach with a cry of your name. Your fingers speed up and you’re still not sure if you’re close, but before you can say anything Jisung crosses the bed. He attaches his lips to your clit without a second thought, his fingers replacing your own. He’s a sight to behold, hair sticking to his forehead and sweat glistening down his toned chest. It takes a few minutes but he doesn’t give up (even though you likely would have by now), he licks and sucks you through your first orgasm. 

“God I could cum again just from that sight,” he admits with a shy chuckle once he lifts his head up from between your legs.

Felix:

It was all because of a stupid card game. Okay, maybe some alcohol was involved too. It was one of those couple’s games and in your newly relationship-state, Felix suggested you play together. A little bit too much wine and a series of giggles and here you were. 

“What is the most amount of orgasms you’ve had in one day?” Felix read the card, a blush spreading across his face. 

“It doesn’t say that,” you laugh, reaching for the card. Sure enough… You let out a sigh. “Truthfully?” you ask. 

“Well–only if you want to,” he backtracks. “You… you don’t need to tell me anything you don’t want to.” 

“No, Lix, it’s fine, it’s just…” you run a hand through your hair, exasperated. “Zero. The answer is zero. I’ve never cum before.” 

“But… you had a boyfriend before me, I thought?” 

“Yeah,” you laugh. “That doesn’t mean he made me cum.” He looks at you thoughtfully, ultimately deciding to table the conversation. You were grateful. You’re both a little too tipsy and flustered to be having this conversation. You watch a movie and curl up against his chest, game long forgotten as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. *** It’s about a week later when Felix shows up at your door with a suspiciously large package in his hands. You were expecting him for date night but not aware of what he brought with him. 

“What’s that?” you ask. You don’t miss the way his ears turn red. 

“This is for later,” he tells you. “It’s a surprise.” You shrug it off and almost forget about it until after dinner. He brings you into your bedroom and hands you the package. 

“I remembered our conversation from last week,” he admits. “How you said you’ve never… so I bought some things that I thought you could use.” 

“Use? To help me cum?” 

He coughs, clearing his throat. “Um, yeah. I just thought… and I don’t even need to be here when you use them, but I thought that you could use some… tools? I don’t know.” 

“Do you want to see me use them, Lix?” you all but purr. He looks at you sheepishly. 

“I wouldn’t say no,” he laughs. “Only if you’re comfortable.” 

You open the package, then. A large dildo. A smaller one. A bullet vibrator. Some things you’ve never even seen before. 

“Wow, Felix, this is…” you lift up one of the larger toys to inspect it. “Was this expensive?”

“Don’t worry about that,” he tells you. “It’s an investment.” 

And that’s how you end up spread on your bed, Felix watching from a chair at the end of your bed. 

“I can always take a video,” he suggests. You furrow your brow. “Y’know, that way if you have a hard time finishing, we can watch it back and review and see where it went wrong?”

“Felix I KNOW you did not just suggest having a VOD review of my masturbation session,” you laugh. “I’m not one of your games you know.” He looks away shyly. You acquiesce. “If you want to record… use my phone though.” He looks way too excited as he grabs your phone and props up the camera as you start to play with yourself, fucking yourself with one of the vibrating dildos he bought. It felt really good, and it was just an added bonus that the sexiest man alive was watching you. 

“You can go deeper,” he drawls. You can tell he’s accentuating his deep voice because he knows it turns you on. “Don’t be afraid to really press the end of it against your clit.” The toys worked you up faster than you ever imagined and you squirmed beneath his gaze. Felix stands, bringing the camera even closer to your sopping entrance, really trying to get a good view of the camera. “You’re doing so good,” he tells you. You can’t help it. You cum. The vibrations from the toy, the camera, Felix’s watchful eyes and words… it was all just too much. You writhe through your orgasm until you reach overstimulation, turning off the toy and throwing an arm over your eyes. 

Felix is quick to jump into the bed, peppering your face and neck with kisses. 

“That was… wow,” you tell him. 

“Wanna watch the video?” he asks, voice laced with excitement.

Seungmin:

“Never,” he deadpans. 

“Nope,” you repeat. 

“Well, like, how do you do it?” 

“What do you mean?” you can’t help the blush that spreads across your face. 

“You’re probably doing it wrong,” he explains. “I know you’re not mansplaining to me how to masturbate,” you roll your eyes. 

“No,” he sighs, exasperated. “I’m just saying maybe I can help. It would be easier if you showed me.” 

“Showed you?”

“Don’t be dense, love. Just take your pants off, if you want, and touch yourself in front of me. I can guide you, if you’d like.” 

You were definitely blushing now. 

“Can you kiss me first?” you ask. You don’t know why but you felt like breaking that barrier would make things a little easier. He smiles, pushing his hand through his hair before leaning forward, capturing your lips in his. His hand brushed through your hair, deepening the kiss. When you pulled apart you felt a rush of confidence, pulling your pants and panties down to reveal yourself to him. He watches you from the end of the couch with his arms crossed, lips shut tight. 

You let him watch as you trail your hands down to your center, spreading your legs wider when you see him trying to get a better look. You circle your clit with one finger, dipping into your entrance to gather your arousal. You switch between fucking yourself with your finger and circling your clit, no sense of rhythm. Though Seungmin pins you with your gaze and causes your arousal to strengthen, you can’t build yourself up the way you want. You get frustrated. Seungmin takes notice. 

“Lift your shirt up,” he commands. He watches as you hesitate but follow his direction, lifting up your shirt with his heavy gaze. “Use your thumb and pointer finger. Trace your nipples.” You do what he tells you, following his instruction to tease, circle, and pinch your nipples. 

“Use one hand. Wet it with your tongue. Get a lot of spit–yeah, like that. Touch your clit.” He lets out a breath when you release a shaky moan. “Use one hand and circle your clit and use the other hand to touch your pretty nipples. Go back and forth between circling it and flicking it. Figure out what feels better.”

You squirm at the oversensitivity. 

“Seung,” you moan. “Feels good but… can’t you just touch me? I want to feel you.” 

He shakes his head. “No, baby. You need to do it yourself. I want you to know how to make yourself feel good.” You let out a frustrated sigh but continue to follow his direction. 

“Use your other hand now and push it inside. You can start with one finger. Don’t stop the momentum you’ve got on your clit but slowly fuck yourself with one finger. Good. Try curling it.” You can’t deny how good it feels–better than you’ve ever made yourself feel. You notice the bulge in his sweats and you whine. Teasing, you drag your foot up his thigh and try to press against his bulge to get a reaction from him. Before you can though he sighs and grabs your foot, harshly. 

“Don’t try it,” he warns. He doesn’t release his grip from your ankle and you’re thankful for the touch. “Try adding another finger.” You do just as he tells you, curling them inside you as you continue to stimulate your clit. 

“Seung, I’m… I think I’m close,” you say with a breath of surprise. 

“Good,” he smiles. “Don’t let up on the pace. Try to stay as consistent as you can. You’re doing so good for me, baby. Does that feel good? You’re so pretty, you have such a pretty pussy–”

You cut him off with a loud yell as you cum all over your fingers. Your legs kick up, unable to control them but he grabs your thighs and holds you down, rubbing small circles into your skin. 

When your breathing finally calms down he shoots you a grin. He opens his arms and you crawl right into them, laying your head against his chest. 

“Wasn’t trying to ‘mansplain,’” he mutters against your head. “Just wanted to see if I could help.” 

You laugh sleepily. “I know, Minnie. You did a good job. Thank you.” 

Jeongin:

With the way he smiles at you you’re not sure if he heard you right–he looks too giddy, dimples protruding from his face in a way that makes you want to poke him. 

“What–” you ask, taken aback. You were in the midst of a makeout session that had started to get a little too heated and you felt the need to confess your little problem. You were self-conscious about it and unsure how he would react but this is not what you expected. 

“Can I help?” he asks. 

“Help–”

“Touch you,” he clarifies. “Let me touch you?” He trails his hands up and down your cheek. Hot from his suggestion. But you’ve always loved his hands, long and veiny, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t imagine how they would feel. 

“Okay,” you stutter. “But if you can’t make me finish–”

“Shhh,” he kisses you. “Let’s not worry about that now. Just let me touch you and make you feel good, and if I can get you to cum that would be amazing. If not, nobody will be offended, yeah?” 

He sits up then and before you can ask what he’s doing he bends you over his lap. Your breath hitches and he runs a hand up and down your ass, grabbing and kneading the flesh. You’re glad he can’t see your face because you’re sure you’re flushed beyond belief. He touches you over your shorts and when you start to squirm he lands a warning tap to your ass that makes you yelp. He takes his time touching you through the fabric and circling your clothed clit before he lifts your hips up, pulling your shorts and panties off at the same time. 

“You’re so wet, baby,” he teases, gathering your wetness with his fingers. “All this for me?” 

“Mmm,” you respond unintelligently, wiggling your ass to get your point across. Still he teases, never quite touching you where you need him. 

“Jeong-In… Innie, please, touch me,” you whine. He coos at the desperate tone of your voice before allowing his fingers to finally push into your entrance. You welcome the intrusion and you’re glad that he starts slow, fucking you deep and with purpose. 

“Feels good,” you moan, burying your head deeper into the sheets. 

“Yeah?” he asks. He fucks his fingers into at a speed that you couldn’t imagine possible, a large hand splayed onto your lower back to hold you in place. You can’t help the sounds that escape your mouth and you vaguely realize that Jeongin is talking, whispering filthy things in your ear. 

“Fuck, baby… your pussy is so tight. So perfect,” he groans. “So warm and wet… this pussy is all mine, yeah?” 

“Oh my GOD, fuck, Jeongin!” you cry out. His words add fuel to the fire, allowing the warmth to spread through you and speed up your impending climax. He doesn’t relent, staying at the same pace and hitting that spot deep inside of you that has you seeing stars with his long, deft fingers. He hits that same spot every time and suddenly you’re cumming, spasming around his fingers. You swear you can hear his grin but you couldn’t care, not with the intensity of your orgasm. When you’ve come down from your high he strokes your back, letting your breathing even out. He reaches a hand around to your face and shows you his wet fingers, groaning when you wrap your lips around them. 

“I can make you cum in other ways,” he suggests. “Want me to show you?” ─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Masterlist <3

[rmview]

finding out you were a bet, ENHYPEN.

featuring — enhypen members x gn!reader ( masterlist )

summary — a reaction of what happens when you find out that dating you was actually a bet they made but they caught the feels!

contents — angst, arguments, hurt.

hee ☁ seung

heeseung froze when he saw the look on your face — hurt, betrayal, disbelief. “you knew?” he asked quietly, his voice barely audible.

“you lied to me,” you said, your voice trembling as you held back tears. “dating me was just a bet?”

heeseung’s head fell into his hands as he sank onto the edge of the couch. “at first, yes,” he admitted, his voice shaky and almost panicked. “but it wasn’t supposed to turn into… this.”

“into what?” you demanded, your eyes narrowing as the frustration bubbled over. “into me falling for you while you were laughing behind my back?”

“no!” he shouted, his voice loud enough to startle you. he stood abruptly, his face pale as he struggled to meet your eyes. “i swear it was never like that. it was stupid — immature. i didn’t think… i didn’t think i’d fall for you the way i did.”

you scoffed, crossing your arms as tears spilled over. “how am i supposed to believe anything you say now?”

he took a hesitant step closer, his hands raised as if to reach for you but stopping midway. “because i know i don’t deserve your trust, but i love you. that’s real. it’s the only thing i’m sure of,” he said, his voice shaking. “if you walk away right now, i won’t blame you, but please, don’t think for a second that what i feel for you isn’t real.”

jay ☁

“why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, your voice cold but laced with pain. “were you ever going to?”

jay’s jaw tightened as he leaned against the wall, staring at the floor. “i wanted to, but i didn’t know how,” he admitted, his tone subdued.

“right, because lying to me was easier,” you shot back, your arms crossed tightly over your chest.

jay finally looked up, his dark eyes filled with regret. “it wasn’t like that,” he said firmly. “at first, yeah, it was a bet. but i didn’t think it would turn into this. into me actually caring about you.”

“you cared so much you kept it a secret,” you said bitterly.

he pushed off the wall, closing the distance between you. “because i was scared of this,” he said, gesturing between you. “of losing you before i could show you how much you mean to me. i know it’s my fault and i messed up, but you’ve got to believe me when i say i’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”

you hesitated, his words conflicting with your anger. “you broke my trust, jay,” you whispered.

“i know,” he said, his voice soft but unwavering. “and i’ll do whatever it takes to earn it back. just give me a chance to prove to you that i’m not the guy who made that stupid bet anymore.”

sung ☁ hoon

sunghoon’s face turned pale when you confronted him. “is it true?” you asked, your voice trembling. “was dating me just some kind of bet to you?”

he froze, his usually calm demeanor crumbling. “who told you that?” he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“so it’s true,” you said, the hurt in your eyes making his stomach twist.

“at first, yes,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the floor. “but it wasn’t like that for long. i swear, everything i feel for you now… it’s real.”

you let out a bitter laugh, tears slipping down your cheeks. “how convenient for you. do you know how humiliating this is for me?”

“i know,” he said, his voice trembling as he took a step closer. “and i hate myself for it. for being so stupid, for not telling you sooner. but please, believe me when i say i never meant to hurt you.”

“how can i believe anything you say now?” you shot back.

he hesitated, his eyes pleading. “because i wouldn’t be standing here like this if i didn’t care about you,” he said, his voice breaking. “you mean everything to me. i know i don’t deserve your forgiveness, but i’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. just… don’t walk away from me.”

jake ☁

the moment jake saw the text on your phone, he knew the truth had come out. “you know,” he said, his voice hollow as he approached you.

you turned to face him, eyes blurring with tears. “how could you do this to me?”

jake’s chest tightened at the sight of your pain. he had never seen you cry. “it wasn’t supposed to go this far,” he said quickly, his voice desperate. “it was a dumb bet, and i was stupid to agree to it. but i swear, everything after that… it’s real. you have to believe me.”

“how can i?” you asked, your voice cracking as you almost felt nauseous from the news sinking in. “you lied to me from the start, jake. i thought you cared about me.”

“i do!” he exclaimed, stepping closer. his hands hovered near yours, but he didn’t dare touch you. “i care about you so much it scares me. that’s why i didn’t tell you — i didn’t know how to admit i’d messed up so badly.”

you shook your head, your eyes full of hurt. “i can’t even look at you right now.”

jake’s shoulders slumped, his voice trembling. “i don’t blame you,” he said softly. “but if there’s even the smallest part of you that feels the way i do, please… let me fix this. let me prove i’m not that guy that you think i am. i don’t want to lose you.”

su ☁ noo

sunoo knew something was wrong the moment you looked at him, your usual warmth replaced with cold distance. “what’s going on?” he asked nervously.

“i know,” you said bluntly, holding up your phone with a message that revealed everything. “dating me was just a bet to you.”

his breath hitched, and he immediately shook his head. “it’s not like that anymore,” he said quickly, his voice filled with panic.

“then what was it like?” you demanded, your voice breaking. “was it all just a joke to you?”

“no,” he said firmly, stepping closer. “it was never a joke, even in the beginning. i know i was wrong — so wrong — but i didn’t think it would turn into this. into me falling for you.”

you crossed your arms, tears welling in your eyes. “how am i supposed to believe that?”

sunoo’s own eyes filled with tears as he clasped his hands together, almost in prayer. “because i’ve never cared about anyone the way i care about you,” he said, his voice cracking. “you make me want to be better—to deserve you. please don’t give up on us because of my stupid mistake.”

jung ☁ won

jungwon could feel the tension radiating from you as soon as you walked in. “what’s wrong?” he asked cautiously.

you turned to him, holding your phone tightly. “were you ever going to tell me?”

his heart dropped. “tell you what?” he asked hesitantly, though he already knew.

“that this whole thing — us — was just a bet?” you said, your voice trembling with anger and pain.

jungwon’s lips parted, but no words came out. finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “it started that way,” he admitted, his voice low. “but it’s not like that anymore. i swear, i didn’t mean for it to happen, but… i fell for you.”

you scoffed, your arms crossed. “do you know how humiliating this is for me? how stupid i feel for trusting you?”

“i know,” he said, his voice filled with guilt. “and i hate myself for it every day. but please, don’t think for a second that my feelings for you aren’t real. they are.”

you shook your head, tears spilling over. “i don’t know if i can believe you.”

jungwon stepped closer, his expression desperate. “then let me show you,” he said softly. “give me a chance to prove to you that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. i’ll do whatever it takes.”

ni ☁ ki

ni-ki’s eyes widened as soon as he heard your words. “it was a bet, wasn’t it?” you asked, your voice cold.

he froze, his usually playful demeanor gone. “who told you?” he asked, panic creeping into his voice.

“so it’s true,” you said, your voice cracking. “i can’t believe this.”

“it was stupid,” he blurted, stepping toward you. “i was stupid. i didn’t think it would matter at first, but then i got to know you, and everything changed.”

you shook your head, tears streaming down your face. “that doesn’t change the fact that you lied to me. that i was just a game to you.”

“you were never just a game,” he said urgently, his voice trembling. “i know i messed up — i know i don’t deserve your forgiveness. but you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel like this, and i don’t want to lose you.”

you hesitated, your anger battling with the raw sincerity in his voice. “how am i supposed to trust you again?”

“i’ll earn it,” he said quickly, his hands clenching into fists. “i’ll spend the rest of my life earning it if i have to. just don’t leave. please.”

notes: first enhypen post <3 likes and reblogs are very much appreciated since i'm still a new writer :')