#I want to hug him and wrap him in a soft blanket and give him soop

[himasgod]

Would it be to soon to ask for a "where you suddenly stop giving them attention" part with the third years?

THIRD YEARS X READER

Where you suddenly stop giving them attention

Cater was living for your affection.

Seriously, you were his favorite notification. You always knew how to brighten his day, a kiss on the cheek before class, selfies together, random “thinking of you~” texts that made his heart skip. He acted all chill about it, but inside?

He was twirling his hair, giggling and kicking his feet like a teen in love.

So when you stopped? When your texts slowed down to dry busy rn, when you walked past him without that sparkle, when you skipped Magicam photos for days? Cater noticed. At first, he played it off with humor.

"Whoa, my number one fan vanished! Was I canceled and no one told me~?"

He scrolls back through your message thread at night, wondering if he said something wrong. Tries to post a cute story hoping you’ll react. Even sneaks by your class to ���casually” spot you.

And when he sees you — head down on the desk, dark circles under your eyes, shoulders trembling, it hits him. You didn’t stop caring. You just stopped having the energy.

He walks right in, pulls you up from your chair, and takes your hand. You barely react, exhausted, letting him lead you. He brings you to the empty pop music club room, shuts the door, and wraps you in his arms.

"You don’t have to smile for me, kay? You don’t have to be “on.” Just be real with me, babe. I’m not going anywhere."

You finally let go and cry a little, muttering “I’m sorry” into his hoodie. He hugs you tighter.

"Nah, none of that. You gave me real love, and I’m keeping it. So if you need a break, I’ll be your filter. I gotchu."

Leona had long since decided that affection wasn’t something he needed. Or wanted. Or deserved.

But then you came along. With your sleepy kisses. Your hands in his hair. Your little “I missed you, lazybones” messages. Your way of plopping down beside him like you belonged there. It made him soft. He hated it. He loved it.

So when it disappears, when you stop curling up next to him during naps, when you barely say “hi” in the hallways, when the only messages you send are “Sorry, can’t today. Too tired”, Leona’s first instinct is annoyance. He’s gruff. Snappy. Sulking like a big cat who’s been denied his favorite sunspot.

"So that’s it? Done spoiling your prince, herbivore?"

But he doesn’t press it. Not yet. Not until he finds you passed out in the botanical garden, curled under a tree with your bag still slung on one shoulder. You don’t wake up when he calls your name.

He kneels beside you, frowning, brushing your hair out of your face. Your skin is warm. Your body limp with exhaustion. And suddenly he sees it, the sleepless nights in your eyes, the way you’ve been dragging your feet through the week. This wasn’t you ignoring him. This was you falling apart.

When you finally blink awake he doesn’t let you speak. He just pulls you against his chest, sighing into your shoulder.

"You idiot. You think I need all your attention if it costs you this much?"

You try to explain, apologize, but Leona tightens his hold and cuts you off.

"You gave me something warm for the first time in a long damn time. You think I’m gonna throw that away because you forgot to say “good morning” a few days?"

"Next time, just tell me you’re burning out. I’ll carry you if I have to. I’ll drag your overworked ass into bed myself."

And he does. He carries you to his room like it’s nothing, tucks you under his thickest blanket, and curls around you.

"You spoiled me rotten, herbivore. Let me spoil you back."

Vil took note the second it started.

The first time you didn’t compliment him. The first time you didn’t send your good morning text. The first time you passed him in the hallway, eyes on your phone, and didn’t so much as glance up. He noticed. He always noticed. But he didn’t act on it immediately. He gave you space, told himself you were probably dealing with something. That it was just a phase. He wasn’t going to be the clingy insecure type. And yet…

"Why haven’t they noticed my new look? They always say something…"

"They haven’t visited the dorm in over a week. Why?"

The questions start to pile up in his mind, and with them, a tightness in his chest he hates admitting is worry. When he finally seeks you out, you’re in the library, fast asleep over books, dark circles under your eyes, your lunch untouched beside you. And everything clicks. It wasn’t about him. It was about you. Pushing yourself too hard again. Giving too much and leaving nothing for yourself.

Vil lets out a sigh and gently wakes you. You blink at him, confused, guilty, already trying to explain. But he stops you with a finger pressed to your lips.

"Enough. You don’t owe me affection when your body is falling apart."

He takes your hands, helps you stand, and brushes the hair out of your face.

"You’ve been overworking yourself again. Look at your complexion. Look at your posture. Have you even slept properly this week?"

You shake your head, ready to apologize again, but Vil frowns and holds your face with both hands.

"You showered me in love when I needed it. Now let me return the favor."

That evening, he takes you to Pomefiore. Runs you a bath with herbs for your fatigue. Makes you a skin treatment himself. Feeds you something warm, nothing fancy, just what you need. And when you lie down, eyes drooping, he sits beside you with a book and reads aloud until you drift off.

The next morning, when you wake up and whisper, “Sorry for worrying you,” he only scoffs.

"You’re lucky I love you… Because darling, letting yourself fall apart is never a good look. So next time, tell me. You don’t have to be perfect — just let me in."

You were his safe place. That’s it.

Idia had never, ever been good with people, but somehow, you slipped through him like a virus. You installed yourself into every part of his daily life: calling him nicknames, hugging him out of nowhere, holding his hand even when he flinched like a malfunctioning Chatgpt.

So when you stop showing up to his room after class, when your daily “I love you, you nerd” texts vanish into silence, Idia panics. But he doesn’t know how to confront you. Not directly. So he goes through his mental folders.

"Did I say something cringe? Did I scare them off? Oh no. Oh fuck—what if they’re ghosting me?!"

He pings you in-game. No reply. He messages you on Magicam. Nothing. Eventually, he decides to do something terrifying: he leaves his room. He finds you half-asleep in a corner booth, head down on your arms, a tray of snacks beside you. You look pale. Tired. Your phone buzzes with unread messages, mostly from group projects. And his. He shuffles over, hoodie up, hands in sleeves.

"Hey… hey… you okay?"

You lift your head, dazed. When you realize it’s him, you try to smile, but it comes out cracked. “I’m sorry, I just… forgot to reply. I’m so tired.”

Idia sits beside you. He just pulls his sleeve over your hand and gives it a squeeze. "You’re running out of stamina, huh? You chuckle weakly. “That’s one way to put it.”

"You don’t have to be good all the time just for me. But next time, let me know, okay? I can carry the team for a while."

Then he gently drapes his oversized jacket over your shoulders.

Lilia always used to tease you a little about how much you pampered him.

"Another treat? You’re going to spoil me rotten, little one. I might start expecting this every day~"

He would laugh, flutter his lashes, feign dramatic swoons every time you brought fixed his hair without warning, or clung to his arm calling him “old man.” But the truth? He loved it. Every second of it.

So when all that stops? When you start pulling away with tired excuses and absent eyes, when your touch disappears, your laughter fades, and your texts become “sorry, I’m busy” Lilia notices. Of course he does. He notices everything. At first, he jokes about it, as usual.

"Ara~ have I lost my most devoted fan? Say it isn’t so"

But you just smile weakly, wave him off, and walk past him. And Lilia stays behind, lips still curved, but eyes narrowed. Concerned.

He doesn’t chase after you, he waits. Watches. He sees how you stumble over your steps in class, how you barely eat. And suddenly, everything makes sense. You weren’t ignoring him. You were burning out.

The next time he sees you, you're dozing off, a stack of notes on your lap and your pen still in hand. He crouches beside you, brushes a strand of hair from your face, and whispers. "Silly human… You give and give until there’s nothing left. And now you’re forgetting to take care of yourself."

He doesn’t wake you. Instead, he scoops you up in his arms and takes you to his room. He sets you on the bed, tucks you in, and sits beside you. Humming something low. And when you finally stir awake, blinking at him with confusion, he just smiles.

"You stopped spoiling me… so I’ll spoil you now. Rest, darling. I’ll watch over you."

Malleus had never known what it was like to be loved in the small ways.

Not just respected or fond like Lilia, Silver or Sebek, But openly loved, with warm hands brushing his hair, with nicknames whispered, with kisses on the cheek followed by playful grins and “did you miss me prince?”

That’s why, when it suddenly stops, he doesn’t know how to process it. You no longer greet him with your usual bright voice. You stop reaching for his hand. You avoid going to Diasomnia. He doesn’t get angry. He doesn’t even speak of it at first. He just watches.

"Have I displeased you?" He asks himself this more times than he’d ever admit.

At first, he assumes it's distance — that perhaps your heart had grown bored of him. But then he begins to see the truth, your slowed pace, the way you rub your eyes and mumble apologies without reason. You weren’t pushing him away, you were exhausted. So one night, he appears outside Ramshackle, as he used to do in the beginning when your bond was still new. You hear the gentle knock, and when you open the door, there he is.

"May I come in, child of man?"

You nod tiredly, and let him sit beside you on the edge of the bed. You try to explain. Try to apologize. But Malleus just shakes his head, placing a hand over yours.

"You gifted me a kind of love I never imagined I’d have. You do not need to apologize for needing to rest. But I ask you this. Do not shut me out. Let me carry some of your burdens, if only a little. Let me stay beside you, even in silence.·

You feel tears sting your eyes, but Malleus simply leans forward, pressing his lips to your shoulder.

"Even if you have no strength left to call me “my prince,” I will still be yours."

Trey never asked for much.

He wasn’t the kind of guy to expect grand displays or dramatic affection. But ever since you started spoiling him, slipping love notes into his apron pocket, kissing his temple while he baked, calling him “sweetheart” when you thought no one was listening, he’d gotten used to it. Too used to it.

So when you suddenly go quiet, when your touches vanish and your little “I brought this just for you” moments dry up, Trey pretends not to mind. At first.

"Everything alright? You’ve been… quiet lately. Busy?"

You nod. Tell him not to worry. That you’re just tired, that homwork's overwhelming you a bit. He doesn’t push. But it nags at him. He watches how your shoulders slump, how you chew your lower lip while working through assignments, how your phone lights up with unread messages you don’t even glance at.

And one afternoon, when he sees you curled up, asleep with a half-eaten snack and your notebook clutched to your chest, something in him clicks. He sighs softly, kneels beside you, and gently takes the notebook from your arms. He sits down pulling out a small container from his bag. Inside is your favorite treat. One you once made together. He leaves a note beside it:

“For when you wake up. You don’t have to do everything alone. I’m here too.”

When you wake up hours later, groggy, you find Trey still sitting across from you, reading calmly, as if nothing ever happened. But when your eyes meet, he smiles, the kind of smile that says “You don’t owe me anything, but I’m not going anywhere.”

And later, as he walks you back to your dorm, he gently bumps your shoulder.

"Next time you feel like the world’s too heavy, tell me. You’ve always been sweet to me… Let me return the favor, yeah?"

Rook noticed the change before anyone else in all the 3 parts.

He always noticed you. The way your eyes lit up when you saw him. The rhythm of your voice when you called him, the tender way you touched his arm when you thought no one was looking. Your affection was art. And he had memorized every stroke of it.

So when your energy faded, when your “good mornings” dulled to distracted nods, when your hands stopped reaching for his, Rook didn’t need an explanation. He read your body like poetry. At first, he gave you space. Like a hunter watching from a distance. But Rook isn’t passive. He’s passion incarnate. And watching the light fade from you? It ached.

So one afternoon, when you sat alone in the library, head heavy in your arms, unmoving, he couldn’t stay silent. He approached quietly.

"Mon cherie… what burden weighs your wings so deeply?"

You flinch and try to sit up, but he kneels beside your chair, taking your hand gently. You open your mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a tired whisper. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ignore you.” Rook kisses your knuckles.

"Ah, no. Do not apologize for enduring. You have not ignored me. You have simply... forgotten to care for yourself."

You shake your head, tears building, shame rising, but he hushes you with a finger to your lips.

"You who gave me such beauty, such devotion, how could I abandon you now, in this moment? Let me cherish you now, ma lumière. Let me carry you."

He lifts you as if you’re made of petals and takes you somewhere quiet. He wraps you in blankets, brings you tea, brushes your hair.

"Rest, my treasure. You gave your light to so many — now let me be the one to shine for you."

[levanterhaze]

── spring into summer, bangchan

♡ 󠀬󠀬dad!bangchan x actress!reader: angst (a lot of it) and heartbreak.

♡ synopsis ― You left him behind to chase your dreams, your best friend, your first love. Now you're back, and everything's changed. He's a father. You're a star. But some flames never die. Maybe it waits.

♡ [7,6k] & notes ― I would like to express my gratitude for all the love you have shown for this series. I write it with great affection, hoping that you will truly enjoy every word I write. In this chapter, we will learn a little about the protagonist's and Chan's past and what really happened between them. The part in italics refers to their past.

chapters: CHAPTER O1

CHAPTER O2

You never minded being seen in public, but you still took precautions, sunglasses, a cap, anything that made you feel a little less visible. With your disguise in place, you strolled through the downtown streets, picking up candles, party supplies, and a bouquet of flowers.

The florist, someone you remembered from your childhood, recognized you right away.

“My goodness, you’ve grown so much. I always saw you running around with that boy, Chan... Time really does fly.” She smiled warmly, the lines on her face like gentle reminders of passing years.

Chan used to bring you flowers all the time. Daisies. Roses. Lilies. He had always been that way, romantic, attentive, thoughtful. It was one of the many reasons you fell in love with him. He didn’t just love loudly, he loved kindly. The kind of love that wrapped around you like a blanket, that never asked for anything in return. It was steady, devoted, and brave. He would have thrown himself in front of anything to keep you safe.

Years could pass and no one would come close to what you felt in the brief years you were his.

You didn’t regret chasing your dream. You didn’t regret studying, working late into the night, building a name that could be recognized across screens and streets. What you did regret, deeply, was the lie. The way you chose to end it. The story you invented to make him let go. You told yourself it was to protect him. To give him the life he always wanted, one with stability, peace, a future you couldn’t give back then.

You found yourself stopping at a small coffee shop. The kind with soft jazz playing in the background and the smell of roasted beans hugging the air. You ordered an iced americano and settled into a bench by the window.

Outside, the city moved at its usual pace. Strangers passed by, faces you didn’t know, each caught up in their own little story. Couples holding hands. Children skipping along beside tired parents. Friends laughing over shared secrets. Life was happening everywhere, in quiet, ordinary ways.

You looked down at the bouquet beside you. The scent was sweet, but it tightened your stomach. It was the kind of ache that came from memory. The kind that stayed hidden until something soft and lovely pulled it to the surface.

And there it was again, his ghost, lingering in the colors of the petals and the shape of the past you tried to leave behind.

It was a cold winter night, the sky above painted in deep navy blue, scattered with silent stars. The breeze was gentle but sharp, weaving through your hair and brushing against your cheeks like icy fingertips. You stood frozen beneath it, unable to move, your breath the only thing visible as it curled into the night air. Your heart was already aching, even before a single word had been spoken.

Then he appeared in a gray sweatshirt, his messy light brown hair, the tip of his nose reddened by the chill. Chan sat down next to you on the swing in the empty park. 

“Hi, baby.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips, so effortlessly gentle. You tried to smile but it came out broken, just a curve of sorrow he didn’t notice.

“Hi.” The word left your mouth like a breath too heavy to carry.

“You wanted to see me, huh?” He grinned, voice bright, carefree. “I was with Felix, but I came as soon as I saw your message.”

He didn’t know. Not yet. To him, this was just another night. To you, it was the end of everything you knew.

”Chan… we need to talk.”

You couldn’t look at him. Your gaze dropped to your lap, to the chipped light pink nail polish on your fingers, anything to avoid his eyes. He frowned, his smile faltering at the sound of your voice.

“It's okay. You can tell me. What happened?”

You swallowed, your breath hitching. Every second stretched longer than it should. You drew in the cold air and tried to find your voice. “I made a decision,” you said. “I… I want to pursue my dream.”

For a moment, his entire face lit up. That bright, proud smile bloomed instantly, the kind that always made your heart flutter. And it shattered you. Because he still believed you meant together. You could feel your chest squeezing tighter.

“That's amazing, baby. I'm proud of you."

You couldn’t speak. There was a lump in your throat so sharp it hurt. Your mouth felt dry, your hands trembling in your lap. Your heart was pounding so hard it almost drowned out the world. When you finally looked at him, tears were already clinging to your lashes. Chan’s smile faded. He reached out to cup your face, his palm warm and soft against your cold skin.

“Hey… what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

You blinked, and the tears began to fall. Slowly at first, then freely, painting your cheeks and dripping onto his hand. “Because… I’m leaving.”

His hand didn’t move. Neither did you. Time seemed to pause, every heartbeat echoing like a crack through your chest. You watched his expression change. Confusion. Pain. Realization.

And then silence. Nothing but the sound of winter and everything falling apart.

It hit Chan like a punch to the stomach, the kind that knocks the air out of your lungs before you can even speak. But he tried. He forced a smile, shaky and faint, before rising and kneeling in front of you. His eyes searched yours, already dimming. You saw it, the sadness tucked behind the corners of his mouth. He didn’t say it, but you knew. You had already disappointed him.

“I received an offer,” you said, voice trembling. “A scholarship. In South Korea.” Your next words barely made it past your lips. “And I accepted.”

He drew in a sharp breath, his chest rising with effort as his heart began to race. But he still nodded, still tried to be strong for you. His laugh was weak, more a breath than a sound.

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t cry, okay?” He reached for your hand. “We’ll figure something out. I can visit. Or… I can go with you. Long-distance relationships work. People do it all the time.”

That was the problem. He meant it. Every word. He would leave everything behind if it meant staying by your side. He would give up his university plans, his future here, his family, his dreams of a quiet home and a life built together, just to chase after you. And that kind of love, though beautiful, was too big. Too costly. Too much to ask from someone you loved back.

“You can’t,” you whispered. Your voice broke as you wiped at your tears with the back of your hand.

Chan’s expression faltered. His brows pulled together in confusion. “What do you mean I can’t? Just tell me when, I’ll talk to my parents. They’ll understand. I’ll figure something out and—”

“Chan,” you interrupted, shaking your head slowly. “No.”

His lips parted slightly, disbelief setting in. “No?”

“I don’t… I don’t want you to come with me.” Your eyes met his, and you saw it happen in real time, the way the light faded. The way hope unraveled behind his gaze.

“I don’t understand,” he said, the words tight in his throat. “Why?”

“I’m doing this alone,” you said, your voice steady even as your heart crumbled. “I want things this place can’t give me.”

He stared at you like you’d just betrayed him with the cruelest lie. Like your words had dug into his chest and carved him open.

“What about me?” he whispered. “Does that mean you don’t want me anymore?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. “It’s not…” you tried, but he cut you off.

“Wait. Are you breaking up with me?” There was a humorless laugh in his voice, one that cracked the moment like glass shattering. He leaned back slightly, recoiling from you, as if your touch might burn him.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you said, your voice raw, your hands shaking. “But I need to be honest.”

“Honest about what?”

Your lips trembled. “Us. It’s over.”

He laughed again. This time it was quieter, broken in a way that hurt more than anger ever could.

“No, it’s not,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re not doing this. You’re not.”

“Chan.”

“No. Screw that. Why are you breaking up with me? If it’s because of the trip, I already said I’ll go. I’ll go to freaking Korea, I’ll find work, I’ll study there if I have to. I’ll stay with you. I’ll do anything.”

“It’s not the trip.” You lied. He didn’t see through it.

He took a deep breath, feeling weary, defeated.

“Then what is it? Do you like someone else?”

“What? No,” you said quickly. “It’s not that. It’s just…” You couldn’t finish. You couldn’t say the words that would destroy both of you.

He leaned in, both hands cradling your face, holding you as if you were already slipping away. His eyes searched yours, glassy with tears he refused to let fall.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I would go anywhere with you. For you. I need you to know that.”

You broke. The tears came fast and heavy, streaming down your face as your hands gently wrapped around his, pulling them away from your cheeks. Your heart screamed at you to stop. To stay. To tell him the truth. But instead, you looked him in the eye. And you said it.

”I don't love you anymore.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. And in that moment, you didn’t just break his heart. You shattered the part of yourself that would always belong to him. And then you twisted the dagger in his chest, stabbing him in a place only you had the keys to.

Time stopped. Seconds froze in place, just like your words. Chan looked at you like he was in actual pain. His lips parted again and again, but nothing came out. He let go of your hands like they burned him, stepping back as if trying to find any sign that this was a bluff.

"You don't mean that.” His voice was broken. You were to blame.

“I do,” you whispered. “Please… just don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“Tell me it's a lie.” A single tear slid down his cheek. You sniffled, doing everything in your power to keep your own tears from falling. “Tell me this is a joke. Right now.”

“I can’t…” you said, your voice barely there. “Because it’s not.”

His breathing became frantic, struggling to inhale and exhale. He ran a hand through his brown hair, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard.. He couldn't believe this was happening. He had made so many plans, and they all included you. He couldn't see a future without you in it. And now the person he loves most simply doesn't love him anymore? What are the possibilities?

“I'm sorry.” You rubbed your hands over your face to wipe away the tears and stood up, the creaking sound of the swing echoing between your broken hearts.

He would never know how much it broke you to do this. Never guess that you were lying straight through your teeth to protect him. That this was love, and it was killing you.

“Hey!” His voice cracked as he rushed after you. He grabbed your wrist and turned you to face him again, forcing your eyes to meet his. Tears clung to his lashes. His breathing was heavy. His nose is red. His voice is nothing more than a desperate whisper. He sniffed, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “If you walk away from me right now, if you do this, I’ll never forgive you.”

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

In that moment, you swore you could hear the sound of glass shattering, your heart and his breaking at once, splintering into pieces too sharp to ever put back together. It echoed in your chest, your head, your ears. Final. Irreversible.

And still… you turned your back and walked away. Leaving him standing there. Alone. In the dark. With tears in his eyes and a heart split in two.

You broke yourself to protect him and dragged him down with you. And that was something you would never forgive yourself for.

He was inside the car, his head leaning against the seat while listening to soft music on the radio. In half an hour, Yuna would be leaving her ballet class, and he would take her home, cook dinner, and spend another night with his daughter, reading stories and watching cartoon shows on TV.

That’s when the sound of rain pulled him from his thoughts. At first, it was just a few fine droplets tapping against the car window. Then, within seconds, they turned into heavy, thick drops that blurred everything outside. Chan sat up and quickly reached to close the window, but something caught his attention. It was you, running for shelter from the rain, two bags clutched in your hands. You looked flustered and out of breath, your clothes already soaked through, clinging to your body. He cursed under his breath. He knew he shouldn’t, but his heart moved before reason could catch up.

He cursed under his breath, knowing he shouldn't, but his heart spoke louder.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered to himself.

You stopped beneath a tree, trying to use one of the bags to shield your head. The effort was useless. With a frustrated sigh, you gave up and started walking again, slowly now, careful on the slick sidewalk.

Chan rolled the window down fully and raised his voice over the sound of the rain. “Hey, get in the car.”

You froze. Your eyes squinted against the downpour as you tried to make out who had spoken. For a moment, you hesitated. But the rain didn’t. It kept falling harder, soaking you further. He reached over and unlocked the door. You climbed in quickly, tossed the bags to the floor, and shut the door with a sharp exhale. Your teeth clenched as you pushed damp strands of hair away from your face.

Water trickled down your cheeks, your neck, and clung to your skin. Chan stared for a beat too long, his brows furrowed in concern and something else he wasn’t ready to name. Without thinking, he shrugged off the jacket he was wearing and draped it over your shoulders. You opened your mouth to protest, but he didn’t give you the chance. He kept his eyes forward, like he hadn’t just crossed a line he swore he wouldn’t.

“Thanks,” you murmured, wiping your face with your palm.

You pushed your hair over one shoulder, exposing your neck and collarbone. Chan glanced, and then looked again. He couldn’t help it. The way your skin glistened from the rain, the way the warmth of the car painted your cheeks in that soft flush, it tugged at a memory he hadn’t let himself revisit. He remembered exactly what your skin felt like under his fingertips. He remembered the curve of your jaw, the way your breath hitched when he leaned in just a little too close.

He clenched his jaw and stared out the windshield instead, breathing slowly. He wanted to reach out, to trace that same line down your neck, to brush your hair back again just so he could see more. But he didn’t move. He couldn’t.

Then your eyes caught his, just before he could look away. You frowned.

“What were you looking at?”

He almost let a smirk slip, but buried it beneath a stony expression. “Nothing.”

“You were staring.”

“You’re not that interesting,” he shot back flatly. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Your lips parted in disbelief, a flush of anger rising through your chest and neck, burning hot under your skin.

“Look, I get it. You hate me. I probably would too, if I were you. But could you just… not be like this? Just for a moment?” Your voice cracked slightly, but you kept going. “Since I got here, you've been treating me like some intruder. Like I’m this awful reminder you wish you could erase.”

He didn’t respond right away. Just kept his eyes fixed on the window, watching the city blur past.

“You’re not making it easy for anyone,” he muttered.

That was it. Cold, final, like a closed door. He wasn’t going to budge. He would never soften, never let you in. He’d just keep shutting you out, making you question everything. Without another word, you reached down and unbuckled your seat belt, fingers trembling with frustration. Maybe walking in the rain would hurt less than sitting there, being torn apart in silence.

“You’re not serious.” He moved before you could open the door, slamming it shut with one hand. Rain drummed hard against the roof above you, wild and relentless.

“Let me out,” you snapped, gripping the handle over his hand. Your skin brushed his, and your whole body tensed. A jolt ran up your arm, and you hated the way it made your breath catch. He felt it too. You saw it in the slight pause of his movement, in the twitch of his jaw.

“You’ll freeze out there.” His voice came low and tight, rough around the edges.

“So what?” you snapped, your voice cracking under the pressure building inside you. “Do you even care? It doesn’t matter to you anyway.”

Chan didn’t answer. He just stood there, holding the door… and your hand. You tried pulling away, tried opening the door again, but your body betrayed you. You were shaking, your breaths turning uneven. This whole thing felt stupid, desperate and humiliating. Your hand slowly moved up to your face as the burn in your throat rose to meet the sting behind your eyes. Chan flinched, his chest tightening at the sight.

You were crying. His heart sank as he watched your shoulders tremble. You turned away, both hands hiding your face as your sobs filled the small space between you. It was like something inside you had cracked open.

He couldn’t look away. Couldn’t run from it.

“I’m sorry.” His voice came out rough, lower than usual, but there was no doubt it was sincere. “That’s not what I meant.”

You shook your head, voice broken between sobs. “Yes, it is. Of course it is. You hate me—and I get it. I deserve it. I’m awful, I left, I said things I can’t take back… and you’re right to hate me, but…”

Chan reached across the space and gently touched your wrist, grounding you with his presence. “I don’t hate you.”

You were a mess, flushed, soaked in tears, but still the most heartbreakingly beautiful woman he had ever seen. It was ridiculous how that had never changed.

“Be serious,” you whispered.

“I am.”

You both stared at each other, suspended in the moment. Neither of you knew what to say next or what that admission really meant. You sniffled, wiping your tears with trembling fingers, questions swelling in your chest. Had he really asked about you all this time? Did he know your address in Seoul? Did any of it still matter to him?

Before either of you could speak, a wave of laughter and excited voices floated through the cracked car window. Your attention shifted as you spotted a group of children across the street under colorful umbrellas. The rain had started to fade into a light drizzle.

And there she was, Yuna, safe and smiling beneath the cover of a teacher’s umbrella.

Chan blinked hard and exhaled as he unbuckled his seat belt. You watched him step into the rain, holding the umbrella low under his arm. He crossed the street, crouched down, and scooped his daughter into his arms. Reality hit like a punch to the chest. He had a life. A routine. A daughter who adored him. A home to go back to. And you? You were just a reminder of something that used to be.

By the time he returned, Yuna’s face lit up when she saw you in the car. She clapped her hands and giggled, calling your name like she’d been waiting for you all day. You barely managed a smile as you turned, watching Chan quietly buckle her into the car seat.

Yuna beamed back at you, her little legs swinging in excitement beneath her ballet outfit. "Daddy, did you bring the princess to see me?"

Chan glanced at you for a split second, then looked away without answering.

You kept your voice soft. "Hi, sweetie. It's good to see you."

Yuna bounced in her seat, still glowing. "Daddy, can the princess come over for dinner? I want to show her my dolls!"

You couldn't help but smile at her innocence, at how effortlessly she shared her joy. Her little voice, so full of hope, made something squeeze in your chest. Chan swallowed hard beside you, clearly caught off guard. You could tell he was scrambling for a way to gently decline without breaking his daughter’s heart.

But he said nothing. Just silence. Waiting, maybe, for you to do it instead. He didn't want you in his house. That much was obvious. Not with his daughter. Not with his wife. This moment, even if innocent, wasn’t supposed to happen.

So you smiled and leaned forward slightly. "Hey, cutie. I’d love to, but I can’t make it today. I can’t wait to meet them though."

Yuna’s shoulders dropped a little. She made a soft noise of protest and waved her arms in disappointment. "Promise?"

"I promise," you said, offering her a pinky through the seats. She took it seriously and grinned again.

Chan got into the driver’s seat, checking the rearview mirror where his daughter giggled and squirmed in her seat. Then his eyes met yours again. But the smile you'd worn had already faded as you looked ahead. He didn’t say a word. Just started the car. The ride to your parents’ house was filled with Yuna’s cheerful chatter. She told him all about her ballet class, the music, the snacks, her friend who wore a sparkly tutu. Chan listened intently, asking questions, nodding at her excitement. And something in you twisted. 

It wasn’t regret. It wasn’t guilt. It was envy. Because that could’ve been your life. And no matter how close you were right now, it felt miles away.

When he parked the car, you turned to Yuna and blew her a kiss. She caught it in her hands and pressed it to her cheek with a shy giggle. You glanced at Chan, hoping for a trace of softness, but his focus stayed on the windshield like you weren’t even there. You gathered your bags and opened the door. The rain had stopped and everything was damp but quiet.

“Thanks for the ride.” You mumbled before closing the door.

You were already halfway up the steps when you heard your name. You paused, not sure if you imagined it. Then again, louder this time. You turned. Chan had rolled down the passenger window. His expression was unreadable, his tone flat.

"Are you free tomorrow afternoon?" 

You blinked, surprised. "Um… yes. Why?"

“'Two pm. In the park.” 

That was all he said before driving off. No explanation. No smile. Just a cloud of confusion left in his wake.

At two in the afternoon, you arrived at the park. The day was beautiful, cool and sunny, as if the rain from the night before had never happened. Children filled the playground with laughter, running up the slide, tumbling down, their voices echoing in the open space.

From a distance, the first thing you noticed was a head of long blond hair, neck-length and shining in the sunlight. You narrowed your eyes to be sure, your heart picking up speed. It had to be Felix. And just as you suspected, Chan was standing beside him, arms crossed as they talked about something quietly.

“Felix?” You called out to him.

Both of them turned toward you. As soon as Felix recognized you, his face lit up and he opened his arms wide with that same radiant smile you remembered so well. Without hesitation, you walked into his embrace, laughing softly.

“Look who escaped from the big screen to see us!” he said, holding you tightly and longer than expected.

“It’s so good to see you. My God, it’s been forever.”

He looked just the same, maybe even better. Handsome, almost angelic, his warmth just as infectious as it had always been.

“It’s good to see you too. I almost didn’t believe it when Chan told me you were in town.”

You caught a glimpse of Chan watching silently from the side. He didn’t smile, but his eyes didn’t leave you.

“Well, here I am.” 

Felix’s expression turned hopeful. “And how long are you staying? We’ve got to go out for a drink or something.” He nodded toward Chan, who barely acknowledged it, simply offering the smallest nod of agreement.

”Just two weeks.“ You smiled, feeling the weight of time passing in your words.

“We’ve still got time. I gotta run now, duty calls. But hey, I’ve got the bar now. You’ve got to stop by. I’d love that.”

“Of course, Lix. Let’s make it happen.”

He pulled you into one last hug, squeezing you affectionately before heading off with his usual bright energy, waving as he walked away. Once he disappeared down the street, the quiet between you and Chan wrapped around you like a heavy coat. You slipped your hands into your pockets and drew in a slow breath.

“So… any particular reason you asked me to come here?”

Chan turned to face you, and it took a moment for you to steady your breathing. He looked effortlessly beautiful. His hair had grown longer, curling gently at the ends, especially where it brushed the back of his neck. You tried not to stare.

“There’s someone who wants to see you,” he said.

You blinked, confused. But before you could ask, a small figure came running toward you across the grass. Yuna wore a flowery dress and her face lit up with pure joy when she saw you. She ran straight into your arms and you instinctively knelt down, wrapping her in a warm hug. Her tiny arms went around your neck as she giggled, and you kissed her soft cheek.

Before you could say a word, she took your hand eagerly and began pulling you along. “Come on, princess, let’s build a castle!”

Chan sat on the bench with his arms crossed, watching the two of you for the next forty minutes. He told himself to keep a straight face, to resist the growing grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. But the truth was, he couldn’t.

You sat with your ankles buried in the warm sand, Yuna beside you, both of you covered in it from head to toe. Her toys were scattered around, half-buried and forgotten except for one mission: build the biggest sandcastle possible. She had declared it like it was royal law, handing you a tiny pink shovel with full authority. 

“Let’s dig, princess,” she said solemnly, her brow furrowed like a little commander.

“Leave it to me, your highness.” You gave her a theatrical bow, gripping the small shovel and diving into the task with exaggerated commitment, carving a moat around the half-built structure.

Chan ran his hand through the back of his neck, definitely not smiling at the scene before him.

And as quick as the blink of an eye, you were getting up to brush the accumulated sand off your lap, and tragedy struck. You tripped over the sand bucket and fell. Face first into the sand. There was a beat of silence before Yuna let out a shriek of laughter. She kicked her feet and clapped, delighted by the sight of you flopped in the sand.

“I’m okay. I’m fine,” you muttered, mostly to yourself, spitting out a bit of grit.

“You fell!” Yuna gasped between fits of laughter. Then she tilted her head and added gleefully, “You fell like a pancake!”

You stood, brushing sand from your hair, your clothes, even your eyelashes.

“Well, good thing pancakes are awesome,��� you said with a grin, joining her in laughter.

Glancing back toward the bench, you caught Chan failing miserably at holding in his amusement.

“Yah!” he called out, grinning now. “You alright over there, or should I call for backup?”

“I’m fine,” you replied, pouting as you rolled your eyes. That was it, he broke. Laughter spilled out of him as he leaned back against the bench, unable to keep it in.

You sat back down beside Yuna, both of you returning to your castle, determined to finish it. By the time it was done, the sun had begun to dip low in the sky, casting golden hues across the park. Yuna had started yawning, blinking slower, and rubbing her eyes with sandy hands no matter how many times you gently stopped her. When the sky turned soft and peach-colored, you scooped her up. Her tiny arms wrapped around your neck and her head rested against your shoulder without a word. You carried her across the sand, like a sleepy little koala, toward where Chan was waiting. And for a brief moment, the three of you felt like something whole. Something that almost could’ve been.

“I think her battery ran out,” you said with a soft laugh, gently brushing your fingers through Yuna’s dark hair, tied back with a fluffy yellow scrunchie.

Chan stood up, instinctively reaching to take her from you, but you looked at him, something hopeful flickering in your eyes.

“Is it okay if I carry her a little longer?”

He paused for a moment. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

And just like that, the two of you found yourselves walking side by side down the quiet, tree-lined streets of your old neighborhood. The air was cool and smelled faintly of grass and rain, and Yuna lay nestled in your arms, still barely awake. She clutched a small stuffed bunny to her chest, letting out a yawn every few steps, her eyelids drooping further each time. Chan didn’t say much, but he kept glancing at her with soft eyes, each look filled with affection. It was the kind of quiet tenderness that didn’t need to be spoken aloud. You noticed the way her tired smile would return whenever she felt his gaze on her.

He didn't say anything, just kept walking with you, his hands in his pockets. Then Yuna's sandal slipped off, and he ran to pick it up, with an incredible reflex that only parents have.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his eyes flicking to yours briefly.

“Yes,” you said with a small breath. “She’s heavier than she looks.”

“You sure?” he said, the corners of his mouth lifting. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

You gave him a look and smiled. “Are you calling me weak?”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, but didn’t answer.

Before long, you reached his front gate. The garden outside was small but clearly well cared for, the kind of place that made a house feel like a home. You stopped there, hesitating for a moment. He looked at you cautiously, then turned his attention to Yuna. He reached out and gently lifted her from your arms, holding her against his chest with practiced ease, making sure not to wake her.

You watched as her cheek pressed against his shoulder, peaceful and safe.

“Well, I...” you began, unsure of what to say next.

He looked at you, eyes searching. “Do you wanna...”

You both spoke at once. Chan let out a quiet breath, like he had been holding it in for longer than he realized. You smiled, a soft, genuine curve of your lips that felt strangely natural, like muscle memory.

“Do you want to come in?” he asked. “You’re covered in sand.”

You hesitated, shaking your head quickly. “I don’t want to bother you.”

“You’re not,” he replied simply. “I’m inviting you.”

You raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced. “Won’t her mom be upset if she sees me here?”

There was a short pause. He glanced at the door, then unlocked it.

“No.”

You frowned. His wife must be a saint, then. Because you couldn’t imagine many people welcoming an ex-girlfriend into their home. Still, this was Chan. If he said it was fine, you trusted him.

He entered the house and you followed him. The house was warm. Lived in. A few toys scattered about. A pair of pink socks near the stairs. Chan gently placed Yuna on the couch, tucking her bunny under her chin as she shifted sleepily, her tiny mouth falling open in the most peaceful way.

“She could sleep through a tornado,” he said with a small laugh, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead as he passed you. “Want some coffee?”

You nodded. ‘Sure.’

He pointed down the hall. “Bathroom’s that way, if you want to wash up.”

You thanked him and made your way down the hallway, your footsteps quiet against the floor. The bathroom was just as neat as the rest of the house, everything in its place. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and shook your head lightly, sending grains of sand tumbling from your hair. Then you brushed the rest off your clothes and splashed cold water on your face, watching it trickle down into the porcelain sink.

That was when you noticed it. Two toothbrushes. One small, bright, and clearly Yuna’s. The other, plain and adult-sized. Your brows furrowed slightly. Just two. No third.

You weren’t trying to pry, and you certainly didn’t want to overstep but something about that small detail tugged at the edge of your thoughts. You took a quiet breath and stepped back into the hallway. It wasn’t your place to ask. And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want to know the answer.

You hadn’t noticed it right away, but Chan’s house was surprisingly spacious. It made sense, though. A child like Yuna needed room, space to scatter her toys, space to grow, space to let her happiness echo through the walls. Under the stairs sat a piano, slightly dusty, but clearly used from time to time. You remembered him taking lessons back in high school. He had been so determined for a while, though he never followed through. Life had a way of changing people when you weren’t looking.

The sliding door to the backyard creaked as it opened, and you went outside. The sun was already golden, casting long shadows on the grass. A small plastic slide stood crooked in the yard, and the sound of the coffee machine hummed inside.

A few minutes later, he joined you, two mugs in hand. He handed you one and sat down next to you on the wooden bench. For a while, neither of you said anything. You just sipped in silence, breathing in the scent of the afternoon air and roasted beans.

“I didn't expect you to be good with her,” he said finally, his eyes still fixed on the backyard fence.

You looked at him, surprised. “Why not?”

He shrugged. “You used to trip over your own feet trying to put on your backpack.”

You laughed, nudging him with your elbow. “I've evolved.”

“Evolved,” he murmured.

Silence again. But it's not awkward. Just... kind.

The quiet returned, but it felt easy now, like an old rhythm neither of you had forgotten. You looked at him more closely. His jaw wasn’t so tight anymore. His shoulders, always tense when you first saw him again, had relaxed. There was something lighter in his expression. Not happiness exactly, but something close. Something like peace.

“I like being around her,” you said softly, playing with the handle of your mug. “She reminds me of you.”

He turned his head slightly. “How so?”

You smiled at the thought. “She's stubborn. Bossy. Ridiculously charming.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Sounds dangerous.”

“But,” you continued, “she’s also sweet. Protective. Brave.”

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze lingered on his coffee, lost in thought, the silence stretching comfortably between you.

The sliding door creaked behind you as a breeze blew through, and for a split second, he leaned a little closer to you. Just a little. But enough for you to feel the change in the air.

“She likes you,” he said at last, his voice low. “Thanks for spending time with her.”

You offered a small shrug, brushing your fingers along the ceramic mug. “You don’t need to thank me. The feeling’s mutual. She’s... impossible not to fall for.”

Chan didn’t reply. But when you glanced at him, you caught the way his eyes had settled on you, not guarded, not distant, just quietly focused. Like he was seeing you for the first time in a long while. Like some memory he’d tried to bury had surfaced despite him.

There was something rare about this moment, something soft and unspoken. Just the two of you, sitting side by side with no weight of the past pressing down, no demands or expectations. You knew it wouldn't last. Moments like this never did. But that only made it more precious.

When the breeze turned cooler, Chan stood to make more coffee, and you followed him into the kitchen. The mugs were refilled, the scent of roasted beans wrapping around the quiet space. Outside, the backyard lights glowed faintly through the glass, casting gentle reflections across the counter. Yuna was still curled on the sofa, her small frame tucked tight, clutching her bunny like a lifeline. A lock of hair clung to her cheek, and she shifted slightly, making a soft sound in her sleep.

You leaned against the counter, ankles crossed, eyes fixed on her with a quiet smile. “I still can’t believe she knocked out like that.”

“She always does,” Chan said, sitting on the edge of the kitchen table, one foot touching the floor. “She goes full chaos mode, then crashes like someone flipped a switch.”

You laughed softly. “She’s amazing, Chan.”

He looked down, smiling in that modest way of his. “She’s... everything.”

The words hung in the air between you, warm and honest.

You turned to face him, lifting your mug slightly. “So... how’s life treating you? Besides the whole dad stuff.”

He blinked, as if the question had surprised him. Then he smiled faintly. “Dad stuff takes up a lot.”

“I bet,” you said with a quiet smile, then added more seriously, “But really. What have you been up to?”

Chan ran a hand through his hair, his voice a little rough now, worn down by the long day.

“I teach music,” he said. “At a private school. Guitar and piano, mostly. A bit of theory, some practice. Nothing glamorous.”

Your eyebrows lifted, genuinely surprised. “That actually suits you.”

He chuckled, tilting his head. ‘You think so?’

You nodded. “You always looked the most at ease with a guitar in your hands.”

A faint smile touched his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“It’s... peaceful,” he said. “Predictable. Safe.” He paused, then added, “That’s where I met Hana. Yuna’s mom. She used to work there.”

“Oh.” It slipped out before you could stop it. You cleared your throat, adjusting your grip on the mug. “That's nice.”

You never thought you'd be having a casual conversation about the mother of Chan’s child. And yet, here you were. Hana. The name sat oddly in your mind. You wondered what kind of woman she was. Judging by Yuna’s smile, she was probably beautiful, the kind of beauty that stole breath and turned heads. Maybe she was the type of woman people gravitated toward without even realizing. You also wondered if he had loved her the way he once loved you or if it was something steadier. Something built more on trust than passion. Maybe building a life with someone required a different kind of love. Maybe he found happiness in that. The kind you could never have given him.

He said nothing more. He just took a sip of coffee and nodded slowly, the weight of something unsaid passing briefly between you. The way he spoke of her, neutral, factual, without affection, made you curious to know more.

He looked at you then. “And you?”

That simple question softened something in your chest. You let out a breath, a small smile blooming on your lips as you leaned back against the counter, mug still warm between your fingers.

“It’s... intense,” you began. “I work a lot. No fixed schedule. No time to breathe most days.” He was listening, really listening, his coffee forgotten in his hands. “But I love it,” you said, your voice glowing with quiet excitement. “Becoming a different person, even for a little while, and making people feel something real. It’s chaotic, exhausting, terrifying sometimes... but God, Chan. It’s everything I dreamed of. I feel alive.”

He didn't respond. His eyes were fixed on you, but not exactly, it was more like he was caught up in the glare of something.

“I finished filming a movie last month,” you said, your voice softer now. “Nothing flashy, but... it meant a lot to me.” Then you caught yourself, lips twitching in embarrassment. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”

“No,” he said quickly, almost too quickly. He leaned forward just a little, as if your words pulled him in without permission. “Don’t stop.”

You looked at him then. Really looked at him. Then you smiled.

You looked at him then. Really looked. And for a second, the kitchen changed. Or maybe it was just the light above the sink, casting a warm, golden hue over the tiles and countertops, softening the world around you. Or the fact that he hadn’t blinked once while you were speaking like he was afraid the moment might disappear if he looked away. A current moved through the quiet, slow and heavy like honey. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and his fingers began tapping lightly against the side of his mug. And for one insane, fleeting moment, he thought about kissing you. Right there between the hum of the fridge and the quiet breath of his daughter.

He imagined it: your lips, familiar and unfamiliar all at once, tasting of coffee and memories. The way his hand might hover near your jaw before finding the courage to touch. How the ache between you might dissolve into something simpler, something whole. He blinked, and the thought evaporated with the steam curling up between your cups.

He blinked and the thought disappeared, dissipating in the steam between their mugs.

“You really did it,” he said finally, voice hushed, almost reverent. “You went and made it happen.”

You softened at the sound of his voice. “Yes.”

He’d spent so long resenting the version of you that lived behind a screen. The one who smiled in interviews. The one whose face popped up in trailers he refused to watch. That you were easy to turn off. Easy to hate. But this version standing barefoot in his kitchen, mug in hand, heart soft in your chest, this one, he didn’t know how to hate.

It was getting late.

Neither of you said it, but it hung between you like a thin thread pulling taut. You glanced over your shoulder at Yuna, still curled up on the couch like a question mark, bunny pressed to her cheek. Then you set your mug down, slowly.

“I should go.”

Chan slowly got up, placing his mug on the table. “Yeah... I'll walk you out.”

You tiptoed past the little girl, careful not to stir the peace of the room, and slipped your coat from the armchair. When he opened the door, the night greeted you, crisp and scented with pine and something sweet, like honeysuckle trailing from a neighbor’s fence. You passed him on your way out, your arm brushing his. Neither of you moved away.

You stepped out onto the porch together. Everything was quiet. The kind of silence that echoes in your ears.

“Thanks for tonight,” you said softly, turning to face him.

He looked at you like he was still back in the kitchen, still somewhere inside that memory that hadn’t even fully formed. Then he blinked, his expression softening like thawing ice.

“Thank you,” he said. “For being with her. For being... here.”

You smiled, your breath forming little clouds in the cold.

Your breath came out in small clouds now, floating like ghosts between you. You didn’t quite know what to do with your hands, or how to say goodbye, so you followed instinct instead. You stepped forward and hugged him. It was brief. Your hand ran lightly across his shoulder. But his body stiffened in surprise, and for a second, just one, his arm twitched toward you, as if fighting muscle memory, as if his chest remembered holding you before his brain could catch up.

When you pulled back, he was looking at you again. But this time, his gaze didn’t stop at your eyes. It fell slowly to your mouth. The distance between you was barely a breath. And in that breath lived every question neither of you had asked. Every kiss you didn’t get to steal. If he leaned in now, if he let the years and guilt and fear dissolve would it break something, or fix it?

He didn’t find out.

You walked toward the garden, the cold nipping at your skin, but you didn’t care. Not tonight. Your heart was warm enough. And it was still beating, hard and alive, full of something that almost but not quite, felt like hope.

♡ taglist: @strsforjsb @robinnotgood24 @kannaexe @idiotmaterial @iovecb97 @inejghafawifesblog @hash2013 @skzfangirl143 @gncbnahc @stay3096 @starjely @alisonyus @mangalovesanime-blog @hanniebunch @nikatsuuu @downingmorphine @woopdeedoopdeedoop @tsunderelino @lomllino @lisaskz @sadgvddess @skzswife @hissnoopy @lee-knows-cats @lixies-favorite-cookie @hash2013 @11thenightwemet11 @hanadulsetaad @alondra6011 @skinnyjeans-tanktops @ilovvesleepp @hyunetopia @maddy24207

[inthelibrarybtw]

you're gonna go far | 01 - the boneyard

SERIES MASTERLIST pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

summary: where Rafe who hates pogues has a soft spot for one, who couldn't care less about him, she's too independent and too focused on graduating college and making it out of the Cut to pay attention to him or where they say they don't like each other yet for a reason they are always at the same place at the same time, him making time for her and her never pushing him away but again they don't like each other. word count: 3.2k content: alcohol consumption, angst, cursing, pogue/kook talk, rafe being an asshole, classism, superiority complex authors note: they are back! my angsty babies. we'll see where this one goes. If you read it the first time around, pretend you didn't 😂

01 | 02

Another Boneyard party. Pogue territory, your territory, not his. Yet he found himself at another party there. The excuse he gave everyone, even himself, was that he would never miss a party and needed to keep an eye on Sarah, his very grown sister, whose business was anything but important to him. But he needed something to justify his presence instead of just accepting the truth about why he always wanted to be there.  

The truth didn’t make sense to him. It was not who he was. Rafe hated pogues, even though he wouldn’t use the word hate out loud; his actions spoke louder than words. He never wanted to be around them, not until he saw you. Sarah had invited her new friends over to a party after a few months of dating John B. He had probably seen you around a few times, but you had never caught his attention. You had been like another person who blurred into the background until that night. There was just something about you that had him immediately hooked. From that point on, he looked for you everywhere; he wanted to know you. He wanted to know a pogue, and that threw him off balance more than he liked to admit.  

Your existence alone made him lose his mind, but other things drove him crazy and made his skin crawl. Like the fact that you weren’t afraid of him, you stood up against him when he messed up with your friends, and you were there to witness it. Whenever he was an asshole, you were there calling him on his shit, and he hated it but not as much as he pretended to. He hated that you could see right through him, but he loved how much he could also push back at you. There was just this pull about you that he couldn’t resist.  

So, there he was again at another Boneyard party, even when he wasn't really in the mood; he was there only to see you. As much as he tried to ignore you and pretend not to care for you, he couldn't, and that's how he ended up going back to his car to grab his jacket and make his way to you. The party was in full swing, but you needed a break, so you were sitting alone on a blanket over the sand, looking at the ocean and hugging yourself. For a mid-June night, it was cold—too cold; probably a storm was coming soon, or the weather was just acting up.  

As if it were heaven-sent, a puffy jacket wrapped around you. "You'll get sick," he said. You looked up to meet Rafe's stoic face, as if what he had just done was nothing. "It's freezing," he added before sitting next to you.

"I'm going to be fine," you said. 

As much as you wanted to take the jacket, your pride was bigger, so you started to take it off to give it back, but he stopped you by putting it back on. He scoffed before answering. 

"Right, like you're not trembling. Just take it." You didn't fight him; it felt good, but you weren't going to admit it to his face. 

"What about you?" You turned to look at him. He didn't appear cold, but still, you asked. 

"I'm fine. You need it more than I do." His eyes darted over to your body, a strange feeling forming in his chest at the sight of you enveloped in something that belonged to him. 

“I'm not going to die from being cold.” You glared at him, putting your arms into the jacket. It looked like his jacket had swallowed you up, and he smirked at the sight.

"Yeah, I know, but you were shaking, and I'm not."

"Right..." Rafe being nice to you wasn't new, but with him, you were always waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was never nice just to be nice.

"Thanks," you said softly as you looked around. Everyone was enjoying the party; it was one of those moments when you wondered why you were there. You could be doing anything else. Rafe interrupted your thoughts when he cleared his throat.

"Aren't you going to go back to everyone?"

"Not right now. Why?" You turned to look at him with a confused expression. You wanted to go home, but if you didn't stick around a little longer, your friends would ask, and you liked to avoid the questions. 

"Just asking… I don’t get why you hang out with them." The other shoe dropped. You wondered if it was physically impossible for him to keep his mouth shut. 

"Around who? My friends?” you asked. "Yeah, I don’t see the appeal of hanging out with Pogues.” You rolled your eyes.

“You are hanging out with one right now,”  you quipped back, and he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, but this is different,” he said as if he were stating something obvious. 

"Oh, and why's that?" Rafe was the perfect example of why you didn’t like kooks; it was like they inherently needed to be right or have the upper hand in anything they did. 

"Because I’m not hanging out with you, I’m just sitting here,” he scoffed. He had a way of getting under your skin that no one else had. It was infuriating. 

“If you were just sitting there, you wouldn’t be talking to me.” 

“Whatever, one pogue is not the whole Cut,” he said gruffly. 

“Yes, because God forbid you’re a decent person toward the rest.”

“Again with that?” 

“You’re the one who started this.” He knew it was true. 

“I just don’t get why you willingly decide to hang out with them. They don’t care about anything, look at them…” he made a hand gesture to point at your friends. 

“It’s a party, they are having fun.” 

“I’m just saying you shouldn’t be around them,” he shrugged. 

"And what makes you think I will listen to you?" His face contorted in annoyance.

"I'm just trying to look out for you, Pogue. " The way he said 'Pogue' with such disdain just reminded you of his hate for you and your friends. You also hated him, even if the current situation didn’t look like you did. You didn’t take off his jacket. The cold weather was making you do stupid things. 

“You hate Pogues,” you stated. He huffed, almost as if it’s amusing to see you mad. 

“Usually I do; all of them are annoying, but…” he pauses for a second, thinking as if it’s a good idea to continue talking. “You just… you’re different.”  

“And that’s supposed to mean something?” You didn’t know how to take that coming from Rafe, of all people.  

“It means you don’t annoy me as much as they do, and I don’t particularly want to see you getting hurt because of whatever the Pogues do.”  

“Getting hurt? How would my friends hurt me? Last time I checked, you were the one doing the hurting to them.”  

“They are them, and you’re…” he trails off. “I just don’t get how you can hang out with them.” His irritation was growing; you noticed it, but you didn’t care.  

“There’s nothing to get; they are my friends. Maybe you don’t understand because the concept of considering your friends family is foreign to you.”  

“Oh, I don’t get that they’re your little family? That you love hanging around The Cut?” he said in a condescending tone.  

“I’m a Pogue! The Cut is my home,” a home that you didn’t like. Pope was the only one who knew how much you wanted to just get out and how hard you were working to actually make that happen. “That’s my life!”  

“A hell of a life you’ve got then; you could do better than that.” As much as you didn't like it there, it was still your home. He didn’t have the right to comment on it. He had barely set foot in, and he didn’t get it. He was never going to get it. “Living there doesn’t mean you have to hang out with them.”  

“And what? Get kook friends that don’t understand how hard it is to live on the Cut? They get me; we have been through a lot together.” His chest feels tight all of a sudden. He studies your face, trying to think of what he can say next.  

“You could do better. Go find new friends, some that won’t drag you down with them.” You stare at him, looking for a trace of it being a joke, but he is serious. He seriously thinks your friends are not good for you. You laugh bitterly.

“I don’t need new friends… I don’t want new friends. They aren’t dragging me down; they push me to do better and, most importantly, they don’t make me feel like trash.” Rafe goes silent, his jaw clenching in annoyance. He knew he treated your friends like that most of the time and hated that you were right about it.  

“I don’t think you’re trash,” he groans in frustration. “This is just about having better company, people that don’t get you into trouble.”  

“I don’t need better company. What aren’t you getting? They are important to me, and I care for them. We stick by each other, and we push each other to do better because we want out; we do not want to stay in The Cut forever.” You didn’t. A part of you knew that JJ and John B didn’t care. Yes, they wanted better, but that didn’t necessarily mean getting out of The Cut.  

Then there was Kie, who was a kook and preferred the pogue life. A part of you was angry at Kie; she had the privileges you would kill for, and she took them all for granted. You loved her, but still, it frustrated you.  

He scoffs; he hated the tone you were taking. Yes, it’s the same tone he’s giving you, but he doesn’t like it when it’s aimed at him and coming from you. If it had been any other pogue, he would’ve either fought them or ignored them, but it was you.  

“Oh, you don’t?” he said, faking disbelief. “I don’t think having them around is going to make things easier. Almost no one makes it out of The Cut. What are you going to do? Work for minimum-wage jobs?”  

“You think I’m not aware it’s hard? I know how things go, Rafe.” You were trying to remain calm; he was getting on your nerves. You had heard that a thousand times, but coming from him right there felt somehow even worse. Not even a few minutes ago, he had given you his jacket, but just like that, he was back to being an asshole.  

“Well then, I don’t think you’re trying that much. The Cut is like a black hole that swallows people, and you can never escape. If you do, I doubt it's going to be with your friends next to you.” You had enough. He had the nerve to say all that when his father came from The Cut and made it out. You didn’t really like Ward Cameron; granted, not a lot of people did, but you had to give him that. He made it out, and he wasn’t the best person, but he was all the proof you needed to know it was possible.  

“Yeah, well, your dad made it out of that black hole.” You saw him tense up at the mention of his father; well, now you knew how to piss him off. You regretted using his dad as an example since it was a sensitive topic for him, but you tried to convince yourself he deserved it.  

You didn’t like confrontation, but with him, every word flew out of your mouth without hesitation. It made you feel good, like you were brave enough, and in the eyes of many, you were. After all, it was Rafe Cameron you were standing up against. Deep inside him, he respected that you would run your mouth at him, even if it made you the most insufferable girl he knew.  

“My dad was different; it was a rare thing, like winning the lottery, you know?” you huffed under your breath, looking at the sand. Of course, he was going to be an asshole about it. But he saw your reaction and felt the need to comfort you.  

“What I’m saying is…” He didn’t know if he would say the right thing; he sucked at comforting people. “You’re going to have a hard time getting out of there. If you want to stay with your friends, then maybe you’re better off staying in The Cut and accepting that reality.”  

You looked at him; if you could strangle him with a look, you would’ve done it. You scoffed, biting the inside of your cheek. “You know what, Rafe? Fuck you! You don’t get it!” You stood up, took his jacket off, and threw it at him before walking away.  

“Hey! Wait, where are you going?” He stood up, calling you out and grabbing his jacket, but you were already walking as fast as you could to get away from him.  

“This girl…” he muttered. You annoyed him so much, yet he felt bad. The look on your face before leaving, the words—it had affected him more than he liked to admit. Watching you go directly to JJ after it just made it worse. You had heard him, but you ignored him. What made him think that any of what he said was okay?

—

When you finally made your way back to your friends, you regretted throwing his jacket back; you were cold again. “Ah, she's back! Where were you?” JJ piped in first as he watched you sitting near the bonfire. You weren’t going to tell them you were with Rafe, so you avoided the question the best way you knew how.

“Just taking a break from all this,” you nodded, hugging yourself. You thought about going back just for the jacket, but you would rather freeze to death than face Rafe again. 

“You’re cold? There’s a hoodie on the Twinkie; you can grab it,” JJ said as he walked to grab another beer. You nodded and decided to go get it, and maybe even stay there. You made your way to where the Twinkie was parked.

—

Rafe didn’t leave the party even after what had turned out to be a fight with you. He kept an eye on you from a distance, and he did that far more often than he liked to admit. He decided to follow you wherever you were going. You were about to put on the hoodie when Rafe showed up.  

"You know you can always have this back." He lifted his hand, where he held his jacket. You rolled your eyes as you put on the less-warm hoodie.  

"I don’t need or want your help; maybe you should accept that reality too," you said bitterly, referring to what he had told you earlier.  

He rolled his eyes, feeling guilty for what he had said, but it was done, and he was trying to make it better without even saying sorry. "You don’t let things go, huh?"  

"You’re an asshole to me, and then you want me to be okay with it? Things don’t work that way; at least acknowledge that what you said was wrong." You crossed your arms over your chest and stared at him. He knew he was in the wrong; he felt bad about it, but he wasn’t going to apologize or acknowledge it because every word you said spiked his irritation in a way only you could manage.  

"If being wrong is stating facts, then yeah, I’m wrong," you groaned in frustration. You wondered why you even indulged him when you knew how he was. It was like you were being pulled to him; as much as you knew you could just stay quiet, you never did with him. You didn’t like him having the last word.  

"You’re an asshole. You come here saying stuff when you don’t even have a clue what it’s like to live in a place you hate, but it's still your home." He felt a sudden anger bubbling up. Oh, he was familiar with hating the place where he lived. It wasn’t the same way you did, but he knew the feeling all too well.  

"You’re so infuriating. First, you say I’m too much for the Pogues—newsflash, I’m one! You say they hold me down, but when I tell you I want to do better, you say I should give up?" You groaned in frustration and ran your hands through your hair.  

He stared at you; you looked pretty even when you were angry at him. He shook his head, focusing back on his irritation. "You done with your tantrum?" He knew that would only make you more upset, and maybe he wanted to see how far he could take it. As much as he was different from you, he still was Rafe—the cocky kook asshole who thought everyone should listen to him. You clenched your jaw.  

"What, you didn’t like what I said? Sorry, I was just stating facts." You lifted a brow, testing him in return. You weren’t afraid of him; your friends had told you multiple times to be careful, that you didn’t know who you were messing with. But nothing ever happened to you, besides the same old Pogue comments, and as sad as it was, you were used to them. They did hurt sometimes, but nothing worth crying over. It just fueled you to prove to everyone—and him—that you could do the things he never thought you would.  

"Do you ever know when to shut up?" he huffed, and you felt a pang of hurt in your chest. Out of all the things he had said, this is what ended up hurting you? You swallowed and looked up at him. "Oh, you do know when to shut up." He smirked with his stupid, smug face. Why did he have to be like that?  

"Do you ever know when to stop?" you pushed past him. You knew why this had hurt more than the other things, but you chose to ignore it; you could deal with that later, or just shove it down. You turned around to walk back to where the rest of the people were.  

"Wait!" He yanked you back. "You don’t get to tell me what to do." You looked at him, frustrated. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath to try and calm yourself down, but it was useless.  

"Neither do you!" You pulled your arm from his grasp. "Never touch me again. I don’t want to see you around. Stick to the words you’ve said to my friends a thousand times: stay on your side of the island, kook!" You used the word with the same distaste he used for "Pogue."  

You were done; he had made you feel horrible twice, and you had allowed it. You stormed off, and this time he didn’t stop you. The words kept ringing in his head until Topper called him out. They were ready to leave, and at the same time, you convinced JJ to take you back to your house. Rafe looked from a distance, anger bubbling up inside him, but there was nothing he could do about it. 

He left the party not long after you did, parts of the conversation still replaying in his head.

taglist: @starkeyvhs @oxpogues4lifexo @persiar9 @lenasvoid @angelicameron @purplerose291 @davinashifts333 @hannieskzzz @rafesdrew @icopewithfanfictions @pogueprincesa taglist is open! if you want to be added send an ask or comment! :) follow and turn on notifications on @inthelibrarybtw-notifs to get updates on everything i write.

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INTHELIBRARYBTW ✧.*

[cinnamon7girl7]

"WHAT'S MINE IS YOURS"

Being married to Satoru Gojo didn’t just mean sharing a bed, a house, or a last name. It meant sharing your life with someone who loved you absurdly — someone who never understood, and never will understand, the concept of boundaries.

You had your own missions.

Your cursed technique.

A well-built life long before you ever met him.

But from the moment you stepped into his world, Satoru decided that no part of you would ever be alone again. Not your exhaustion. Not your hunger. Not even your most simple little preferences.

The first time you said your feet hurt after a mission, a week later you had a high-tech imported massage chair with a smart footrest and a robe with your name embroidered on it.

One night, he canceled a meeting with his clan elders just to come back home, crawl into bed with you, and wrap his arms around you.

—The only urgent thing on my schedule is you —he whispered, without even taking off his coat.

His gestures were constant, subtle... and sometimes incredibly ridiculous.

Other times, if he found out you’d had a rough night, he’d wake you up with a breakfast cooked by private chefs in his kitchen.

Once, he spent over six million dollars just so you could see snow on your birthday for the first time… in the middle of August.

He had an entire climate-control system installed at one of his properties in Dubai, imported realistic artificial snow from Japan, and had a fake alpine village built in the garden.

The team helping him included meteorologists, movie set designers, and a group of dancers dressed as penguins who showed up at the end with an igloo-shaped cake.

—You said you wanted “pretty snow, like in the movies” —he told you with a proud grin, while you cried in your thermal robe and bunny-ear slippers.

—And I want every birthday of yours to be better than the last. So… get ready.

If he noticed you were quiet or down, he would shut down five floors of a luxury shopping mall just so you could walk around in peace, no crowds, no noise.

—The world’s being annoying today, babe. So no world. Just you… and the window displays —he’d say, carrying your bags like they weighed nothing.

Sometimes he even paid millions so that an amusement park would open just for the two of you for one night. Not because you loved the rides… but because you told him you’d never been to one as a kid. That night, he let you ride the Ferris wheel a thousand times, just to see you laugh.

And if he noticed you were happy… he gave you even more reasons to be.

Once, he hired Chanel’s head designer to make you a custom dress in less than 24 hours, just because you said “nothing I have fits for tonight’s dinner.”

Another time, he decorated an entire room just because he heard you say “I need a space just for me.” You didn’t say anything when you saw the library with new shelves, the aroma diffuser, the soft blanket on the perfect chair. You just hugged him.

—You deserve to be comfortable. Always. I don’t like that you’re unhappy in our little home because… I want to give you that. All of it —he said.

By “little home” he meant, of course, his modest three-story mansion with a Japanese garden, heated pool, and a walk-in closet that looked like it came out of a fashion magazine.

Because for him, the size of the place didn’t matter if you didn’t feel at peace there. And if that meant gifting you an entire tower just for yourself, he would do it again without hesitation.

Not even when he replaced all the chairs in the private cinema because you once mentioned that velvet irritated you. The next day, the furniture was soft leather, with cashmere blankets and a sound system that made you feel inside the movie.

Not even when he ordered croissants from Paris, flown in by private jet, because you joked that “nothing tastes the same since I came back from my trip.”

You didn’t question it when he planted a whole garden of flowers that only bloom at night, you said nothing. He just took your hand one early morning and led you outside, under the moon, to show it to you.

Or when he had a perfume made that smelled exactly like your freshly washed hair. He didn’t tell you. He just wore it one night when he had to travel, and when you hugged him, you felt your own scent wrap around you like an invisible ribbon.

Not even when he reserved a planetarium just for the two of you and rearranged the constellations to spell your name.

—Because there’s no star I find more beautiful than you, darling —he said, in a voice so soft you almost didn’t hear him.

And he meant it.

Not out of obligation, but as a personal desire —and you knew you couldn’t stop him. Not even when he bought you 10 identical pairs of Louboutin heels just because “he didn’t know which color you liked more.”

Not even when he bought a private island just because you said you wanted to “sunbathe without hearing people talking nearby.” He furnished the whole place in two days, with exclusive chefs, an endless bar, and a 3-meter-wide bed just so you could sleep like a queen.

And much less when he installed a heating system in your studio because you said, half asleep, “I hate when my feet get cold while I’m working.”

One night, while the city lights shone through the tall windows of his office, Satoru was reviewing papers with a half-finished glass beside him.

His phone vibrated on the desk. He answered without hurry, without even looking at the number.

—Gojo?

—Mr. Gojo, good evening —said the voice on the other end—. We’re calling to confirm a transaction attempting to process from your joint account with Mrs. Gojo. The amount is four million seven hundred thousand dollars. Do you authorize it?

He smiled, leaning back in his chair.

—Of course I do.

—Are you sure?

—If she’s the one buying it, don’t even ask me.

And he hung up with that calm of his, as if approving a multimillion-dollar purchase was as easy as breathing.

Because for Satoru, it didn’t matter what it was. If it was for you, it was always worth it.

One afternoon you came back from an exhausting mission. Everything hurt, you didn’t want to talk, just sleep.

But when you opened the door, you found something that left you speechless.

Lilies.

White lilies. Blue lilies. Oriental lilies, in big and small vases, marble flower pots, crystal bowls, and even in a teacup on the table.

There were petals on the stairs, tall stems in the corners, bouquets gently swaying with the breeze from the open windows.

The scent was delicate, enveloping. Familiar.

You walked among them with wide eyes, your heart racing, as if you had been transported to another world. In every corner, a small note:

“Here I took your hand for the first time.” “Here I realized I never wanted to let go.” “Here I knew you were my home.”

Satoru appeared at the end of the hallway. Smiling, without glasses, messy hair, wearing a light blue shirt half unbuttoned.

—Happy anniversary of the first “click” —he said—. I don’t remember what we ate that day… but I perfectly remember how your hand fit in mine.

And since then, I haven’t stopped wanting to repeat it.

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

So you did the only logical thing: you threw yourself into his arms, among lilies, among notes with memories, and surrounded by the scent of a kind of love money can’t buy.

He held you like always: as if you were the only thing he’d ever let fall.

I’ll be posting a long feed about Streamer!Gojo tomorrow, so hope you enjoy this one for now!

[consume-cs]

goodnight n go (04) ◯○ daily things & small details

nah, I’d rather just watch you smoke and drink, yeah | if I’m being honest | ⚙️ &team content | materialist

english isn’t my first language. ot9 scenario. non idol — just some moments with them ﷼

koga yudai

When both of you are in the bed around soft sheets and the lamp is lighting up the dark room, you can only hear the audios of the videos coming out of your phones.

Suddenly, you feel a weight on your chest and some long legs wrapping around yours. His head is resting on your chest as he moves a little, telling you without words he wants you to touch his hair. And with that, he can fall sleep easily.

murata fuma

Once you’re home you take off your shoes, hearing movements at the kitchen which makes you know he’s home and at the same time makes you emotional because having a rough day without a chance of taking a break is frustrating. You walk in and see him sitting there, having dinner.

He’s about to say something when he sees you walking quickly to him and he spreads his legs, letting you sit on his lap noticing your silent crying. “Princess, you have to tell what’s wrong” He asks a few minutes later with his arms around your waist and thighs.

wang yixiang

Every time you’re putting on lipstick or lipgloss, Nicholas is already starting at your lips just to gently hold your chin and give you a kiss, that seems to be soft and cute at first until he starts to open your mouth more to have more control about it, but you make him stop.

His cheeks are as red as yours, his eyes are still looking at your lips so he rubs his thumb around the edges of your lips, removing your ruined lipstick, smiling at it. “Oh, I just ruined it babe”.

byun euijoo

You make the mistake to go to the bed once you get home after a long night of having dinner and drinking with your friends. Luckily, your boyfriend is there the whole time so maybe you’re a bit drunk and also tired, it’s been a long day for you.

Once you accidentally fall sleep, Euijoo sits on the bed after taking your makeup remover from the bathroom, softly removing your makeup off and trying not to wake you up. Even if he’s tired as you, he knows you don’t like to sleep with makeup on, so you better give him a lot of kisses the next morning for doing that.

nakakita yuma

You like to watch horror movies but your boyfriend knows that it still scares you even if you tell him you're enjoying it. And that night isn't an exception, you two are in the couch with some blankets around and it all started when you jump a little bit, looking for his hand under the blankets.

Then you started to get closer to him, wrapping your arms around his biceps and finally, you end up hugging him, hiding your face on his neck while he laughs at your expressions because even if he tells you that he's going to turn the TV off, you still say no.

asakura jo

We all know Jo is an amazing artist and you’ve been his muse as soon as he asked you to be his girlfriend. At first he was shy to show his drawing, but after a while he enjoys drawing every detail of you and then show it off.

Your hair is naturally wavy so when you decided to let it dry without doing a blow out or something, you can feel his gaze on your hair as well and you already know that he’s going to make a drawing of you. “I like your hair like that, you look beautiful”.

shigeta harua

On a random day, your boyfriend asked you if he could brush your hair to help you and since then he’s been doing it every time he has a chance. He likes when you’re between his legs with your hair all messy just letting him brush it for you.

It’s almost like a therapy and it’s relaxing, so it’s not a surprise for him if you fall sleep on him. Most of the time, he tries to make you some crazy hairstyles but he’s not as good as he thinks, so he always ends up braiding your hair.

takayama riki

You’ve been writing an essay for your chemistry class since early in the afternoon and Taki has stayed by your side most of the time, until he notices the way you touch your shoulders with some hurtful expressions that let him know how stressed you are.

And without a word, he stands behind you and starts massaging your shoulders, instantly hearing a thank you from you as he kisses your forehead.

hirota riki

He loves carrying you around, I mean every single time he has a chance to do it, he can’t be five minutes without touching you even if that means that you’re going to have your legs on his legs when you’re on the couch.

Also, you know he’s going to lift you up when his grip gets tight around your waist and in a couple of seconds your legs wrap around his waist. “Oh, my sweet baby”

xoxo girl💋…

© consume_cs

[offbranddrpepsi]

Hi! Welcome back! Can I request needy headcanons (nsfw or sfw) sova, reyna, and chamber?

Of course! Ty for the welcome back! I don't have any of my banners sorted so this post wont have any for the time being besides a divider I nabbed. Also this will be both cause fuck it I like needy bitches. NSFW will be under the cut! Since this is multiple characters the SFW will be first then I'll do a cut and have each characters NSFW

Sova, Reyna and Chamber being Needy for their partner SFW and NSFW

Sova

Sova is the very quiet needy. He doesn't really vocalize he needs your affection minus maybe a whine as he shoves his face into your hair/neck.

You could honestly mistake him asking for time as him just asking if you are busy. "Do you have plans after training?" "what are you doing for lunch?" etc. He's asking to see if its okay if he intrudes when you have down time but he just seems to be being nice.

Of course once its either people he trusts (Sage, Skye, Killjoy, Breach. Basically most agents he doesn't see as his boss OR has a mentor relationship with) or just you then he gets more clearly needy kind of like a really reserved dog.

He will walk up and just....place his head on yours or your shoulder, which ever is easier. Wrap his arms around you and just hang there without a word besides carrying on conversation casually with others and you. Sometimes he's just wrapped around your arm doing the same.

Hes making sure your shoulders are touching if he cant directly be a little koala. If you're sat its your knees. Little bumps and taps, basically any way he can touch you without clearly touching you.

These are all just little warnings that the moment you're alone he's going to absolutely smother you

Once your in your room he's laying on top of you or you on top of him. One of you is in the others lap like its just another chair. He is putting as much weight as possible on you at all times, sighing as he does so

his one vocalization is asking you to brush, braid, or play with his hair. which he sighs during constantly.

If you try to get up and leave him? good luck. This man may be one of the best hunters alive but he is not above clinging to your ankles or thigh like a toddler.

Reyna

Reyna is at the very least vocal though its very lowkey

you get a 'mi corazon ' as she greets you and is then draped over you like a bitey blanket

Shes very lovey towards her partners in general and when shes starved for affection this is turned way up. Every third word out of her mouth is some praise towards you, some pet name, some compliment, and occasionally a pout

This woman pouts so much! Shes got her lips squished out full force, making the cutest face that just barely suits her, all while squishing your face with her hands as she fawns over you and tries to get you to give her attention

Reyna is also a massive nuzzler! Between squishing you shes rubbing her cheek to yours as well as her nose. A gentle nuzzle in your hair is a lot of what you're getting when shes needy

Once alone, or rather in a better position for it, shes even more rabid for that soft affection.

Cuddle session where shes just pressed into your softness. Naps with her lightly snoring while stretched over you like a star fish. She mainly just wants all your attention and all your time no matter what that's spent doing

Reyna would also steal your clothes to wear because "who knows how long you will be gone next?"

Chamber

Chamber is a bit like Reyna in the fact he's very verbally affectionate, damn near smothering, when he's needy

Hes singing praises as well as how much he missed you though you were only apart for maybe ten minutes.

Unlike the other two he is also louder both in action and word

He spins you around then pulls you into a hug, he's going on about taking you out to dinner or making something for you, he's already planning to take you dancing or on a relaxing vacation to the country side.

As someone who doesn't get a lot of time to himself, every second counts and time is money, he really goes all out with filling that time with as much of you as possible

If you're nestled in bed he's wrapped around you lovingly going on, while also mildly complaining about this being rare, about how good it is to have this time with you and how utterly blissful this is

Hes giving you kisses near constantly and finds any excuse not to leave you

He is also so so damn whiny when alone!

You get up to use the bathroom and he's practically throwing a fit! He's giving you the saddest puppy dog look he can muster while sitting pitifully on the floor you 'dumped (he ungracefully rolled)' on.

You need to get up to do anything and he's shoved his head into your chest begging for 'just one more moment' as if you're going to turn into dust right there

Gods forbid you have to actually leave for any extended period of time! He's laying on the bed, arms thrown out until he's fully covering it, glasses off and hair a mess audibly whining as you leave. Once you return he's in the same position looking at you so pathetically you swear he's about to cry

Sova

When sova wants you its clear, when he needs you its even clearer

Directly will say you two are turning in early, despite your confusion and protests, he has had a very busy week after all

Hes under your clothes ASAP, touching any skin he can access

Kisses are generous on any exposed skin as well only getting even more generous as more and more skin is revealed

Hes still very lowly vocal. Near silent gasps and whines as you take your time

But be too slow and he's cursing in Russian while politely asking you to hurry up in English, voice always just above a sweet whisper

If you want to take charge he fully lets you, allowing you to do pretty much whatever while he's quietly spewing praise after praise as well as gratitude. You're going down on him and he's near chanting thank you

Give him some control, some permission to fulfill himself unassisted, and he's strongly but slowly fucking into you.

Even though he may be damn near breaking, needing to just indulge in your body as much as you'll let him, he's still focused on you and your needs to. Before he can even climax he's making sure you're getting off too. He's got you rested on his cock stimulating you while also whining any time you move in response.

Once he finishes you he's fucking you relentlessly, whining as he cums in you and not pulling out. Just resting as he now lazily keeps kissing your body.

Reyna

Reyna goes from slightly smothering but direct to dominant and even more direct!

Shes taking her shoes off while instructing you to strip and go lay in bed for her. Its said so lovingly you cant refuse, not that you'd want to.

She doesn't spend long 'getting ready' and is on you running her nails across you in minutes, seconds if shes that down bad.

Reyna is hungry for you and that's so so clear. Shes drinking in every sound and motion you make. Her mouth is on you both biting and pleasuring. She is a vampire with her partner, the finest meal she will ever have, and shes treating you as such.

Despite being needy she draws this out for hours, well into the morning, to the point you're beyond exhausted and are falling asleep in her arms.

You're out of commission for days while shes happy as a clam, making you what ever food you desire and pampering you.

It is always days btw because this woman swings by for seconds and thirds and never seems to actually get tired.

The second you get up shes on you, kissing your skin and running her nails across it. Pulling you to her for some light simulation that may or may not escalate again, depends on why you're up honestly.

Chamber

Now, when Chamber needs you sexually he is very very forward. Either he will take you to the side and ask when you can step away for a quick round or he's texting you asking if you'd be up for it later. In both cases he's stressing he will get everything ready, that he will spoil you in exchange, that he will make it worth your time and his.

Sadly Chamber is not very patient once he gets bad. Its no secret he's undressing you with his eyes as you train. He leans a little too much into your light, casual touches. You kiss his cheek and he's ready to drop to his knees right there

Needy Chamber is sporadic to put it lightly. He's a man with far too much he wants to do and to little time to do it so he takes what he can get. This means he's waiting for the training room to clear, kissing down your neck and hand half way down your pants as foot steps trail away. The moment the coast is clear your bent over a table being furiously but passionately fucked from behind.

He's snuck you away to a storage closet to give you the most intense head of your life before coming out looking just as perfect as he always does.

in the same day he asked for you in his workshop. Just as the door shut and locked you were pulled into his lab and on his cock with him near crying into your shoulder about how beautiful you are and how grateful he is for this brief moment

On a really bad day you can hardly get a break. Every second he can he's touching you, stimulating you, pressed into you and making you very aware of his want. He's also flaunting like a peacock, flirting at you and complimenting you constantly.

Finally once you two have an actual moment he is desperately fucking you, chasing both your orgasm and his own. He doesn't stop until either you're telling him to or he's physically sore. Its a mess, its so unlike him, but he has that sex drunk haze about him and looks like he couldn't be happier to be covered in bruises and fluids.

[vrystalius]

Sleeping with the Squid Game men.

No, not like that. The fluffy and cuddly way to sleep with them.

Pairing: Recruiter, Thanos, Nam-gyu, Dae-ho, Gi-hun, In-ho x gn!reader (you have a soft chest/boobs)

Summary: What it’s like to share a bed with your favourite man

Genre: Fluff, slightly suggestive

Words: around 500 words per person; around 2.5-3k words in total

Note: The way I had to google for sleepy/sleep pictures for the actors is crazy 😭

(Here are some pregnancy HCs and them as dads if you’re interested!!)

Gong Yoo // The Recruiter // The Salesman

He is a very light sleeper but never obviously shows it when he wakes up. Your husband likes to act like he is asleep so you can hold him in silence for longer. His favourite position is to spoon you with you facing him, his face buried into your soft chest, getting pleasantly smothered by your warmth.

He’s a very quiet sleeper and barely ever snores, but his hand sometimes twitches in his sleep and accidentally slaps you lightly.

His sleeping face is soft and almost angelic, his lips squished together into a soft pout when he’s asleep. His hair is spread over the pillow and his arm tightly wrapped around you, as if afraid to be alone again like before he met you.

You took a picture of his sleeping face once. You wanted to use it as a wallpaper for your phone because of how adorable his cheeks looked on there but you somehow lost it. Maybe it was deleted somehow or by someone.

In the mornings seeing him so confused and messy, his hair ruffled by sleep and his eyes still droopy is quite a sight.

His groans are deep, sleepy and raspy. When you brush your hand over his face, you can feel a little bit of a morning stubble on his chin and cheek.

The morning is the only time you can see your husband so off guard, so comfortable. He’s always so on guard otherwise, but now? A dreamy smile and quiet hums of content scape his lips as his eyes sleepily scan your equally tired features.

You two don’t often have lazy mornings but when you do, your husband likes having your head in his chest while his hand traces invisible patters all over your skin, his other arm behind his head in a comfortable posture.

“Are you comfortable like this? I can make some breakfast for us if you like.”

Thanos // Su-bong // Player 230

Snores loudly, takes up all the space in bed, drools and doesn’t give a fuck. Thanos likes to spread himself out and then complain about you not spooning him like it’s your fault his arm literally took more space on your bed than you had for yourself.

He talks in his sleep and has periods where he snores very loudly and then goes very quiet, making you think he’s either awake or dead. He is neither though, just in a very deep sleep.

He hogs all the blankets too, that dick. Thanos steals them from you and cuddles onto them, thinking you are the blanket, whining in his sleep about you not hugging him back and his drool spilling all over the blanket.

Also, has the ugliest sleeping face ever. So ugly it’s almost cute, especially the way his mouth falls open and he gets a double chin when his mouth falls agape, or when Thanos begins to frown during his sleep or even cross his arms angrily when he doesn’t like the dream he’s having.

In the mornings he is more like a zombie than a human. He can’t get up without you practically dragging him out of bed and even if you succeed, your boyfriend will curl up on the floor and continue sleeping there.

During cozy mornings, he likes getting his chin scratched by you. He pouts and lazily holds his head up so you can give him the mandatory scratches while his eyes slowly close again as you lull him back to sleep.

He also is very sensitive when it comes to where he can fall asleep. There either has to be complete silence or some white noise playing in the background. Like a child, he can’t fall asleep in front of the TV or when anything else is playing in the background.

Thanks to you he Thanos can’t sleep on his own anymore. Either he has to facetime you and fall asleep on the call or be there with you. He is your problem forever now.

“I don’t need to announce my visit, I’m your boyfriend! I don’t give a shit if it’s 2am either, move your gorgeous ass, I wanna lay down too.”

Nam-gyu // Player 124

For some reason, Nam-gyu cannot lay still. He turns and moves around all night, even talking full on sentences while being fully asleep. If you’re lucky you can have full on conversations with him.

He doesn’t move towards you but in fact actively tries to escape your cuddles. Apparently he likes his freedom. And your pillows.

Instead of stealing your blankets, Nam-gyu snatches the pillow from under your head to hug it and hoard it for himself. He doesn’t drool on it but you did catch him giving it an awkward kiss while he was out like a light.

His sleeping face looks stressed for some reason. He’s frowning as if he just went through the messiest divorce or was abandoned by his mom in the mall. It softens up once your fingers brush over his cheekbones to push some hair away.

Nam-gyu is not a morning person but can force himself out of bed pretty easily. To wake you he heads to the bathroom to let cold water wash over his hands in the sink and then throws the water droplets at your exposed skin or grabs your warm feet from beneath the blanket.

Due to his job as a club promoter and not really having anything to do during the day, your boyfriend is almost always available for many lazy mornings.

He likes to lay his head on your warm stomach and scroll through his phone or angle his camera to snap a selfie of your sleeping beauty face and putting it as the wallpaper of your chats.

Also, an admirable talent of his is that Nam-gyu can fall asleep anywhere at any time. Loud wedding you were invited to? He’s catching a quick nap in the corner of the venue. He has 10 minutes before the club opens? His head is resting on your shoulder in deep sleep while you two wait on a random bench nearby.

“You don’t like the pic I took? I think it’s pretty. And I think you look pretty no matter what… don’t act like you ever took a picture of me when I was sleeping. I know you.”

Dae-ho // Player 388

Thanks to both growing up in a big household and his time serving in the marines, once he’s out, he’s out. Dae-ho can sleep through vacuum-cleaning, hammering nails into walls, a storm, you trying to wake him up and through most of his alarms.

You know that calling out to him like a drill-sergeant would be extremely mean and insensitive to his troubles. You know he’s still scarred, so you’ll keep trying to talk and shake him awake.

Your boyfriend barely snores, just lets out the occasional sigh and groan here and there. His cheek is often squished against his pillow while he lays on his stomach, his lips parted and mouth slightly agape. His sleeping face is extremely cute, vulnerable almost.

His voice is extremely raspy in the mornings and his expression formed into a permanent sleepy pout while he is standing by the stove to make himself a grilled cheese. You just sit there and enjoy the view of his defined muscles in the back working.

Dae-ho needs to hold you to fall asleep. It grounds him in reality and reminds the scared part of his brain that you’re here with him, that you’re not going anywhere and leave him on his own. Whenever you’re with him, he can fall asleep with a smile.

Your smell and warmth alone can lull him into a deep sleep in seconds. If your hands begin to remove his hairtie and your fingers run through his hair to untangle any knots, he’s an absolute goner.

Lazy mornings are pretty rare with him, you’d have to tire him out the night before to get him to still be sleepy in the morning.

Dae-ho took a video of you being asleep and squished up against his soft chest, your drool staining his shirt on one side of his chest and your free hand squeezing his other. You never saw that video before, it cracks him up too much to let it be deleted by you.

“Don’t let go, I still need you here with me… I love you, you know that?”

Gi-hun // Player 456

Gi-hun curls up into a fetal position when he sleeps. His face is hidden beneath the sheets, only his eyes and nose peeking out. He snores very quietly and they stop abruptly whenever he begins to stir.

He thinks he’s being slick by acting asleep and listening to what you’re doing but it’s pretty obvious when those adorable snores stop.

Even if he isn’t much of a morning person he still forces himself out of bed and brews a cup of coffee for you two.

You watch as Gi-hun sits with his cup at the edge of the bed, watching the sun rise higher and higher, enjoying the quiet morning. Peace, even if it’s temporary.

He likes holding you in his sleep and having your head nuzzled in his shoulder, but your boyfriend prefers to be held instead. He desperately craves comfort and security and you always spoil him with exactly that.

Your hand slowly and soothingly brush over his back while his arms were tightly wrapped around you, his eyes tightly shut and face buried in your warm chest.

His sleeping faces are surprisingly handsome and peaceful, his mouth shut most of the time. His brows are furrowed in permanent stress though that only seems to go away when he feels the bed shift beneath him, indicating that you just joined him.

Gi-hun likes sharing a bed with you. It’s intimate and a sacred tradition. Falling asleep and waking up next to you feels like you two bonded over night, two souls enjoying being near each other. Maybe it sounds sappy but that’s how it feels to him.

Lazy mornings are rare because he cannot seem to relax and let his guard down, ever. There’s always something on his mind, something to do and that damn salesman to find. You can shut him up by smothering him with a pillow once he begins to ramble about those weird games again.

“I’m exhausted, I’m sorry if I’m being selfish, but join me? I can’t sleep without you.”

In-ho // The Frontman // Player 001

You’ll have to force him to sleep for more than 4 hours a night. Even if the games are not happening right now or it’s still half a year until recruitment, In-ho is always busy with something. It sometimes feels like he’s trying to get out of sleeping in the same bed with you.

When you finally get him to stay in bed with you, it takes a while for him to fall asleep in addition to him being a very light sleeper in general.

He’ll count every tile in the ceiling, scan your face for any new features he might’ve missed or that have changed since last night, then he’ll waddle into the kitchen for a glas of water and then maybe, maybe he’ll begin to slowly fall asleep.

When you wake him up in the mornings, he wakes up like he had the most horrific nightmare just now; eyes shot wide open and a deep gasp emitting from his lips. Your husband always assures you he doesn’t have any though.

He snores in his sleep but it’s more of a pleasant/relaxing sound rather than an annoying dad-snore. They are quiet and rhythmic, giving you quiet reassurance that he’s still peacefully resting next to you.

His face is relaxed as the worry lines in his face slowly melt away, his hair uncared for and his arm shifting around to find your warm skin to touch. He prefers to be the big spoon and have your face nuzzled into his chest or neck, where he can always feel your warm breath and heartbeat.

You gave into the temptation to take a picture of his adorable face once, but In-ho felt an disturbance in the air and shot his eyes open to stare at your face before you could snap your picture. This man can never be caught of guard it seems.

Sometimes you catch him falling asleep in his office, his body curled up in the leather chair as his head hung forward slightly, his glass of whiskey still in his hand with a firm grip on it. He almost dropped it once you woke him up by the way In-ho got startled awake.

“Sorry, I lost track of time. I’m coming to bed now, no need to drag me—“

💠

Author’s note. Thank you for reading!

I always write about the things I want the most; sleep and cuddles. Sleepy cuddles? Whenever I use C.AI I always choose a “sleepy” prompt since I mostly use it after waking up or during breaks, times where I am always very sleepy and in need of affection 😭 Hope this wasn’t too weird to read.

Also I did T.O.P so nasty with the pic I chose I’m sorry 😭😭

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough <33

Take care of yourselves and stay safe my dears!!

[hyunebunx]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ⏖ ' late night moments with skz !

⁺ 𖹭 . genre: this is just sleepy fluff <3 some of the boys get kind of emotional.

⁺ 𖹭 . a/n: happy binnie day!! <3 to this day, these are some of my favorite hcs i've ever written so i hope you enjoy! (early morning moments with them right here <3)

𝜗୧ chan 𝜗୧ - 2:34 am

“Do you think Berry misses me sometimes?” He mumbles into your lap, voice full of sleep as you gently massage his scalp. Looking down at him, your eyes soften when he hugs your middle and hides his face in your stomach which prompts your other hand to begin tracing his features softly.

“Of course, she does, baby.” Chan almost purrs in response and your heart melts at the sight, managing to contain the sudden urge to squish his cheeks together. “Remember how excited she was the last time you visited? She was jumping, running around you and never left your side the whole time you were there.”

A moment passes and then two with no response from your boyfriend and that’s when you realize, by his even breathing, that he finally fell asleep.

You smile and lean down to plant a sweet kiss on his forehead, whispering a sincere I love you in his ear, not stopping your massage.

Sleeps like this, in your lap, until you’re sure he’s asleep for good before you slowly move him into a more comfortable position and wrap his whole body in a blanket burrito.

𝜗୧ minho 𝜗୧ - 11:59 pm

“Hug me, I’m cold!”

You hear him groan before he turns over to face you, grumbling under his breath as he envelopes your body in a big hug and begins to squeeze the life out of you. All out of love, of course.

“Better now?” “Minho, I can’t breathe!”

Doesn’t let go but does tilt your head up to look into your eyes and the love you see as you stare back almost has you in tears. A sleepy smile makes its way onto his lips and that’s when you manage to loosen his grip by wiggling into his arms, wasting no time as you begin to plant open-mouthed kisses all over his face.

His smile widens until giggles escape him, loving the way your lips feel on his skin as he lets you do whatever you want until you’re satisfied. When you finally reach his lips but don’t linger for as long as he’d like, instead kissing them repeatedly while also giggling, he takes matters into his own hands and kisses you deeply while still keeping the initial softness of your previous ones.

𝜗୧ changbin 𝜗୧ - 3:47 am

You toss and turn in the sheets for what feels like the millionth time before finally giving up with a frustrated sigh. “Binnie, I can’t sleep.”

“Me neither.” The response comes instantly and you sit up on your elbows to find him staring at the ceiling, visibly exhausted. You frown, scooting closer to hug him by the middle and rest your chin on his chest.

“Everything okay?”

Your soft voice prompts him to let it all out, to rant about work and his daily struggles at a fast pace that you can barely keep up with. When his voice quivers, you look up and plant comforting kisses on his neck and jaw, one hand gently massaging his chest through his nightshirt.

When he’s done and his speech slows down, Changbin moves to hide his face in your hair, muscular arms wrapping around your body to bring you closer, almost like he wanted to morph your bodies together. Being one with the love of your life sounded great right now – to be able to take all of his pain and discomfort so that he’ll always be happy and healthy was something you dreamt about often. Unfortunately, until that was possible, you hoped from the bottom of your heart that what you’re able to do right now is enough.

𝜗୧ hyunjin 𝜗୧ - 1:08 am

“Forget worms, would you still love me if I was a deadly shark?”

Hyunjin looks up from his phone, flabbergasted, just to find you already looking at him. He’s silent, waiting for you to elaborate but when you don’t, he sighs and gives in. “Darling, what the hell are you talking about?”

You roll your eyes, cuddling closer as you place your head in the crock of his neck to inhale his comforting scent. His arms pull you closer instantly, phone long forgotten. “This hypothetical situation, Jinnie, is critical for our relationship. Please take it seriously.”

Is confused the whole time as you ramble on and on about your ‘hypothetical situation’ that at some point, having had enough, he just turns his back to you and gets comfortable on his other side.

When you follow him and throw a leg over his body, continuing on while drawing patterns onto his back, he swiftly turns around to hover over you, pinning you to the mattress. Your eyes meet and for a second, you think he’s going to kiss you until your dream is shattered as he begins tickling you mercilessly instead. A tickle war starts that leaves you both breathless and laughing well into the night.

𝜗୧ jisung 𝜗୧ - 1:56 am

“When you’re away and I miss you, I spray this pillow with your cologne and cuddle it as I would cuddle you.”

Jisung’s eyes widen slightly as you speak against his lips, the lingering sadness in your tone pulling at his heartstrings in an unpleasant way. You’re face to face, staring lovingly at each other while talking in hushed voices about everything that comes to mind.

He knows that at this time during the night, he gets all soft and mushy but he wasn’t expecting to cry this soon. You were so good to him, his own angel on earth that would wait for him for as long as it was needed. You deserved so much better.

Gently cupping your cheek, you lean into his touch and close your eyes in contentment, and he bites his tongue to stop himself from crying. “I’m sorry, baby.”

His voice is shaky so without a word, you cuddle closer, burying your head in his chest and holding him tighter while also kissing his covered chest. “Sorry? Sorry for what? Don’t be silly, Ji. Your love makes all this waiting around worth it every single time.”

𝜗୧ felix 𝜗୧ - 4:02 am

“Wait, what? She said that to you?” Felix asks, voice loud in disbelief as the hand that was combing through your hair stops momentarily.

You nod, looking up at him from where you’re resting your head, on his abs, the bare skin warm and soft under your touch. “Yes! I have receipts, hold on.”

As you scramble out of bed to get your phone from where it's charging, Felix can’t help but smile as his eyes are completely focused on you and nothing else. He always thought you were the most beautiful like this – bare-faced, with your hair slightly messy and missing that furrow between your brows that appeared during the day.

Vulnerable and oh-so cuddly during the late hours of the night, and early hours of the morning you sometimes spent with him, talking, kissing and laughing until the sun rose again to announce another new day.

When you came back to bed, Felix was resting with his back against the headboard and the position allowed him to pull you flush against his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind as you showed him your phone. It was the domesticity he always craved for which he hoped would never end. That you and him like this never ended.

𝜗୧ seungmin 𝜗୧ - 12:32 am

Taking another peek at the bedside clock, you can’t help but sigh as the red digits glare at you, almost mockingly. You’ve been in bed for hours now and you’re still as awake as you were back then too. It was infuriating, and you were this close to actually crying in frustration.

Almost as if sensing your low mood, Seungmin turns on his side to face you. “Everything okay?”

You shake your head and bury your head in the warm pillow. “I can’t sleep, Minnie. Will you sing to me, please?”

His arms come around you to bring your back to his chest, successfully luring you into being the little spoon, which to be honest, you didn’t mind one bit right now. He places a kiss on your cheek, and with one hand softly massaging your hip, he starts humming. Not a lullaby, but one of the group’s title tracks.

When you glare at him over your shoulder, he grins and stifles a chuckle before starting to sing a proper lullaby. Just as suspected – his dreamy voice does have magical powers and you’re asleep in less than five minutes. Or maybe it's the way he holds you so closely and the occasional kiss on the top of your head that does the trick. Either way, you have to let Felix know asap. He owes you 20$.

𝜗୧ jeongin 𝜗୧ - 11:45 pm

“Blanket thief.” He complains, however, there’s no real malice in his tone as you roll around into a blanket burrito and leave him completely exposed to all the monsters that come out at night, laughing loudly.

You don’t see him, but he rolls his eyes, trying to appear annoyed as he hides his growing smile. “Come here, baby, let’s share.”

When you shake your head no, still giggling in your pillow, Jeongin takes matters into his own hands, literally, and lifts you up by the waist to trap you into his tight embrace, which causes you to shriek and laugh again. He soon joins in and your laughter fills the tiny room as you begin wrestling for the blanket.

“Come on, be reasonable, there’s enough blanket for the both of us.” “No.” “Y/n.” “But Jeongin, the monsters – “ ,“I’ll beat them up! Now, come here!”

Somehow, he manages to convince you to share and you fall asleep cuddling while watching youtube videos, with his soft voice whispering sweet nothings into your ear. But during the night, he still ends up uncovered and because he’s petty, he pretends to fall out of bed and says that the monsters got to him because of you and your selfish nature he can’t help but still love so much!

[zuzu-tries-to-write]

“You Cold or Just Miss Me?”

⸻

The apartment was freezing.

You had kicked the heater three times. It hissed at you like a sassy little demon and stayed broken. Your hoodie was nowhere to be found, and your toes were going numb. You wrapped a blanket around yourself like a sad burrito, staring out at the grey sky from the couch.

That’s when your eyes drifted to his door.

Bakugou’s room.

You knew he had hoodies. Big, warm ones.

The kind that looked like they’d feel like a hug. A grumpy, spicy, cinnamon roll-scented hug.

You waited a solid 45 seconds before you gave in, shuffled across the hall like a shivering raccoon, and cracked open his door.

It was neat. Too neat. Bed made, weights in the corner, shelves lined with cologne and deodorant and some kind of expensive-looking hair stuff.

And right there on the back of his chair: a big, black hoodie with the word “DIE” on the sleeve in angry red letters.

Perfect.

You slipped it on. It was warm. Soft. Smelled like him—spice, smoke, and the faintest bit of caramel.

And then the front door opened.

You froze.

Footsteps.

Bakugou’s voice. “Yo, you home? Heater’s still busted—”

His sentence cut off as he turned the corner and saw you.

In his hoodie. On his couch. Hugging your knees and buried in the sleeves that covered your hands like paws.

He blinked. Stared. And then, his ears turned pink.

“…The hell you doin’ in my hoodie?”

You made a dramatic shivering noise. “Freezing to death. Thought you’d want me to live.”

He rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched—he was fighting a smile.

“You got a hundred damn hoodies.”

“I lost all of them. Tragic accident. It was this or hypothermia.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So you risked death just to steal mine?”

You beamed. “It’s warm. Smells good. Feels safe.”

He didn’t say anything at first. Just scratched the back of his neck, trying not to look flustered. His voice dipped, softer this time.

“…It looks good on you.”

Your heart did a little flip. “Yeah?”

Bakugou shrugged like it was nothing, but the tips of his ears were so red.

“Whatever. Keep it.”

You tilted your head. “Oh? So I get to steal all your clothes now?”

“Don’t push it.”

You patted the couch next to you. “C’mon. Sit. We can be hoodie twins. You wear a hoodie, I wear your hoodie.”

He grumbled something under his breath and plopped down next to you, arms crossing like he wasn’t secretly pleased.

You leaned into his side, stealing even more of his warmth.

“…You’re not gonna give that back, are you?” he asked after a minute.

You yawned dramatically. “Never.”

And Bakugou? He just sighed—smiling now, even if he tried to hide it.

“…Tch. Dumbass.”

But he didn’t ask for it back.

⸻

[psych0fatal3]

Homcipher characters reaction to a clingy MC [SFW]

Characters - Mr Crawling, Mr Silvair, Mr Gap, Mr Chopped, Mr Scarletella, Mr Hood, Mr Machete, Mr Stitch, Mr Big face

Authors Note - I haven't slept and I'm just finishing this at 07:10 AM Requests - Open !

——————————————————————————————————

☆ Mr Crawling

He is OVER THE MOON. His love language is deffo Physical touch (Along with quality time imo) so he is 100% fine with it. He loves hugging you, holding your hand, patting your head and if you wanna do that to him he's overjoyed by it! He hates being away from you so the fact you don't wanna leave him makes him feel so soft and squishy inside.

☆ Mr Silvair

Now... Personally... Imho... He either thinks you're entertaining and will just constantly play with your emotions OR He gets irritated and ends up killing you... Hard to tell.

☆ Mr Gap

He watches as you constantly poke your head into gaps, vents, bags etc looking for him and will investigate on why you're doing that. Once he finds out you're clingy he gets annoyed. (He secretly loves it though he's cocky asf) He's shocked asf if you try hugging or kissing him, probably just goes completely still like a deer in headlights.

☆ Mr Chopped

Listen... as long as you take him where he wants to go, protect him and keep quiet at time he's fine with it. He likes laying on your chest with a blanket wrapped around him while you play with his hair.

He enjoys having a servant.

☆Mr Scarletella

He is absolutely, entirely, insanely infatuated with you so to know you're clingy and wanna be near him just makes me go absolutely insane inside. He'll tell you that he loves you all day, hug you (in his own way), watch you sleep and will just stare at you 24/7 He loves being with you, he needs your love and affection cause without it he's empty inside.

☆ Mr Hood

Honestly kind of loves it. He enjoys having someone to protect and take care of. He'll wrap his cloak around you to keep you safe and warm. He likes receiving hugs and kisses on his hood and will try return the favour. (that's one awkward kiss)

☆ Mr Machete

He despises it. He'll just throw you across the room to get you to leave him alone or will insult you, attack you etc etc...

Sometimes he thinks you're saying you want to fight him and will just attack you... But hey if you've proven yourself to him he's okay with it on the odd occasion.

☆ Mr Stitch

He gets annoyed at times, like he doesn't mind it but sometimes it just really gets on his nerves.

I mean hey he gets someone to play with so he puts up with it.

☆ Mr Huge face

He thinks you're the cutest little pet ever! he'll lift you up, carry you around, give you presents (odd presents) and will take care of you forever and ever! He's massive compared to you but hey you're perfect for eachother.

——————————————————————————————————

[bakug0uzb1thc]

omg after reading your last request it made me think of my own. Katsuki x reader who is the older sister in her household. basically on top of the readers hero studies, she has to still be a second mother for her many siblings and is burnt out.

hope this isn’t too much or anything :)

Agh I enjoyed writing this sm :3 feel free to change any sibling names !!

Solutions

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem! Reader

Summary: ruined plans by having to watch your siblings take a cute turn !!

Warnings: none, mainly fluff, bkg might be ooc

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────

You were supposed to have a nice date with Katsuki, you had been stressed and he said he’d take you out to help you both take a break from hero work and your studies.

you told him to stay outside so you could change real quick but you said that unaware of what was gonna meet you on the other side.

As you walked in and took off your shoes you were greeted by your younger twin brothers Kyo and Tsuyoi wrestling, your little sister Hiyori crying and your angelic baby brother yuro hugging his blanket on the sidelines just watching.

You wanted to cry, the one day you thought you could share with your boyfriend was now ruined. “Hey break it up you two.” You deadplanted grabbing both ten-year-olds by the back of their shirts but that didn’t stop them from trying to throw themselves at each-other.

“He started it y/n!” Kyo yelled pointing to the other boy that looked like a copy. “No it wasn’t!” Tsuyoi defended but you shut them up before they had any other words to throw.

“I don’t care who did what where’s mom?” Looking between the two waiting for an answer. “Shes asleep, she said she needed to take a nap.” Kyo sighed trying to squeeze out of your hold.

You were at a defeat, she worked another night shift at the hospital and you couldn’t just wake her up, but you were gonna have to tell Katsuki you had to cancel.

Walking out the door and shutting it behind you, he raised his gaze confused. “Thought you were gonna change?” He tilted his head, “I can’t suki, I need to watch my siblings. My mom worked the night shift and is taking a nap.” You fidgeted with your fingers trying your best to avoid his look.

“That’s fine? Your siblings love me.” He gave a smug smile. The disappointment you were expecting never came, you were only met by him giving you another solution.

“Are you su-“ the door you were leaning on opened to all your siblings peaking out to see who their sister was talking to.

“Hey it’s Bakugou!” Tsuyoi shouted flinging the door open. “Hey squirt.” He said ruffing the kids hair as he waved to all the rest of your siblings who thought foundly of him.

“See they love me.” He said even smugger than before with a matching smirk. “Hey I wanna show you the new video game I got!” Kyo said grabbing onto his hand dragging him into the house giving him just barely enough time to take off his shoes.

The rest of the night was surprisingly the most relaxed you’d been in a while, all of your hero studies you pushed yourself through no longer crowding your mind and to your shock Katsuki was weirdly good with your siblings.

Despite you having more brothers Katsuki never failed to include your little sister into whatever the boys were doing.

“You surprise me kat.” You whispered trying to not wake the 4 sleeping bodies that were against and on both you and Katsuki. All of you had sat down for a movie and boom they were all fast asleep.

“What do you mean?” He said still managing to have at least an arm wrapped around you.

“You’re so good with them, they don’t even like me that much.” You rolled your eyes with dramatic jealousy. “Dunno, I just want them to think I’m cool I guess.” He shrugged at the confession he thought was obvious.

“That so.. sweet.” You gave him a soft smile and laid your head on his shoulder, doing your best not to wake the sleeping yudo on your lap.

“Thank you, for helping me.” you rub your cheek on him trying to show some affection. “I can’t kiss you so I’m resorting to this don’t think I’m weird.” You tried to defend. “You’re still weird.” He laid his head on top of yours. “Shut up.”

[tbaluver]

ʚɞ Need Some Comfort?- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader, Caleb x Reader genre/ tags: comfort requested: anonnies ᯓᡣ𐭩 a/n: hihi lovelies ! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ i wrote this in a way that it can be taken when you're sad, upset, tired, burnt out, and how they would cheer you up i mean I HOPE it's taken that way and it can bring comfort to anybody that needs it at the moment (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ enjoy reading luvs (∩˃o˂∩)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

Crying? He would be SO worried. He’s not giving it another thought, and he's right there beside you immediately as he pulls you into his warmth. He’ll murmur comforting words while he strokes your back, staying by your side until you take your time to find some peace.

You would find so much comfort in his hugs as he held you tight. He doesn’t mind staying in the position and comforting you until you feel better. His embrace feels safe as if he’ll never let go. Being wrapped in his arms makes everything feel like you will be okay and that things will get better.

If you’re feeling tired, burnt out, or just completely drained, Xavier will offer you to rest together with him. He’ll create the perfect environment for you to relax by closing the curtains, turning off the lights, and putting the room at the perfect temperature. As you curl up into his arms, he’ll hold you close, letting you both unwind from the weight of the world for a little while

One of the ways he’ll help you feel better is by distracting you to get your mind off things. He might make up some peaceful scenarios.

“Close your eyes and imagine you’re on a different planet, and I’m right there with you.”

Other times, he’ll suggest watching your favorite movie or show or maybe even getting into some new music to lift your spirits up and give you a little escape.

Offers you a chocolate tub of ice cream or your favorite flavor. He'll even feed it to you if you want

Zayne:

Crying? Don’t hold back. Let it all out, even if it’s an ugly cry that's full of sobs. It’s just you and him, no else around. He doesn’t ask anything right away, patiently waiting for you to open up when you're ready to talk about it. He understands at a time like this, it’s hard to talk about your feelings, so he’ll stay quiet, offering gentle reassurance with soft touches. He’ll pull your head gently to his chest, letting you pour your heart out, completely unbothered if your tears soak his shirt.

Once you cried it all out, he’ll make sure you rehydrate. Then he’ll help you apply cold compress to your eyes to ease any irritation and prevent puffiness for the next day.

Offers you some of his sweets to make you feel better.

Stressed? If you’re stressed, he’ll let you squeeze his hand as much as you want. He’ll land you a stress ball for whenever he’s not around.

Zayne would reach for your hand, guiding your other hand to rest against his chest, letting you feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Focus on my voice and breathe with me.” 

If you want some quiet time, he’ll sit you down on his lap, cradling you in his arms as if you were the most delicate thing in his world. His lips press softly against the top of your head as you listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

He’ll suggest a walk outside, hoping to help clear your mind with some fresh air. He’ll take your hand in his, squeezing your hand gently as you walk together

Reminds you that he’s always here for you. Even if he’s caught up in work, you can always reach out to him and text him anytime you need to vent. He’ll always make the time for you.

Rafayel:

Sit right there as he grabs a blankie, drinks, snacks, tissues and anything else you might need. He’s here for as long as you need him. He’ll wrap you in a blanket burrito so you’re nestled safely against him

Crying? The moment he sees tears streaming down your face, his expression shifts, and he rushes to your side, pulling you into a tight hug. He cups your face gently, and a jumble of frantic questions slips from his lips, but he doesn't pressure you if you can’t answer. Instead, he coos softly, cradling you close as he stays with you until you calm down.

One of the ways he knows how to cheer you up is by kneeling down in front of you, creating a little fishie out of his hands. He’ll make it swirl around you, gently tickling the tip of your nose, hoping for the tiniest hint of a smile from you.

Another way he’ll make you feel better is by blowing bubbles on you in a comforting way as if it could chase away the physical or mental pain. Although it might not erase everything, it just ends up making you laugh, and that’s a little closer to his goal

Don’t feel like talking about it at the moment? Rafayel would never pressure you to. He’ll stay beside you, his forehead resting against yours as his arm wraps around you. He knows that words are hard to find, so he encourages you not to bottle up your feelings. If you’re not ready to share it with him yet, he suggests writing it all down and placing it together in a drift bottle, letting those heavy thoughts float away.

Sylus:

He’s attentive to your feelings and can always tell when something’s wrong. You don’t have to hide anything from him. If anything isn't going your way lately, you can come to him anytime. You can be yourself and let it all out, cry as much as you need to.

Crying? He’d let you curl up in his lap or lean against him, gently intertwining your hand in his as he rubbed soothing circles with his thumb. His other hand gently glides over your back. He’ll rest his chin on your head while you sob into his chest, whispering soft reassurances. If you’re on his lip, he’ll massage your scalp and gently caress your hair until you calm down.

One of the ways he’ll cheer you up is by humming a familiar tune, and if that doesn’t do the trick, he’ll offer to sing some of his special karaoke songs to you. Surely, that will crack a smile on your face.

Feeling tense? He’s got plenty of essential oils that are great for relaxation. Just tell him where, and without hesitation, he’ll gather the right oil for you. Whether it’s calming or soothing scent, he’ll work with so much care to help you unwind.

Don’t feel like talking about it at the moment? That’s alright. You can stay curled up on top of him, his arm wrapped around your waist, as you listen to the rapid rhythm of his heartbeat. His other hand gently brushes through your hair. However, he would suggest letting it all out eventually, not because he wants you to feel pressured but because he believes holding it all in only makes things heavier. You’ll feel much lighter when you release it.

Caleb:

Don’t even bother trying to hide it with Caleb. He can already tell something’s wrong just by the look on your face and from your body language. He knows you too well to ignore the sad expression on your face.

Crying? He’s already beside you with tissues ready the moment he sees tears. He’ll gently cup your face, wiping them away with his thumb. He looks at you with such sympathetic eyes, never judgmental.

"You look like you could use a hug right now. Come here, Caleb's got you."

Caleb’s like your big bear plushie, his arms are wide open as he pulls you into a comforting hug, making everything you were stressing about disappear.

One of the ways he’ll cheer you up is by offering you a ride in the sky. Sometimes, a change in perspective can really help get your mind off things. As the world shrinks beneath you, your worries can fade into the distance, giving you the peace you need

Not in the mood to talk? Caleb would quietly welcome you with open arms, letting you wrap yourself around him however you need. Your legs would drape over his waist, your arms circling him. His strong arms hold you close as you settle into the crook of his neck.

Offers to make you a delicious warm home cooked meal or even a snack that he can whip up in the kitchen. If you don’t feel like eating, how about telling him what’s on your mind? If you’re not up for it, then that’s more than alright. He doesn’t want to pressure you to tell him anything. However, he will remind you that you are never alone and don’t have to carry all the weight yourself

ʚɞ cr. for the divider @/ cafekitsune

ʚɞ my other works if you want to check it out! Love And DeepSpace Masterlist , Pg.2

[levigarden999]

breakfast in bed ₊⊹ ♡ olderhusband!levi x reader

₊⊹ ♡ thinking about gentle olderhusband!levi and your cat in the mornings

levi’s lips tasted like tea with a hint of cinnamon as you two kissed under the morning light. you were under the warm covers of your shared bed, the blanket enveloping you in a warm hug as you shared loving, deep kisses. levi’s hand found your cheek as his thumb caressed your cheek, the feeling of his warm tongue tasting your mouth carefully with precision.

his hand left your cheek, but instead he wrapped his strong, muscular arm around your smaller body and pulled you closer to him. his bare skin was soft but cold against yours, making your own skin shiver just a little.

levi pulled back a little, his thick eyelashes hovering over his pale eyes. you caressed his smooth cheek with the back of your hand, before you leaned in to give a small kiss on his sharp nose.

”you want breakfast in bed? i could make another cup of tea for myself too” levi suggested with a hint of a smile on his lips. he didn’t often show his affection through words – he wanted to show his love with small gestures like that.

”sure” you chuckled and wrapped the blanket tighter around you as you watched him get up.

soon levi arrived with a tray. he was only wearing a pair of shorts, his strong chest and round shoulders tightening from the weight of the tray. to your surprise, your young cat, petra, was sitting on his other shoulder as he walked with slow steps to not make the tray fall. petra had grown very fond of levi – and so was levi of her, even if he didn’t admit that.

a couple single hairs were hovering over his other eye as he placed the tray on your lap, the cat jumping on the bed to lay next to you. there was two pieces of toast with eggs, and a bowl of yogurt with granola. the pretty, tiny, flower designed cup was filled with cinnamon tea. it was your favorite and levi’s as well.

”thank you, love” you said softly and extended your arms, wanting to give him a kiss as a thanks.

he leaned closer to you and allowed you to hold his cheeks while you gave him one, gentle kiss.

”no problem, my pretty girl”

[timmydraker]

Tim who does crochet.

It’s Dick who is given the first gift, long before Tim is Robin and even before he knows who Robin is.

It was simply because he was a kind kid who had been there to witness something horrible and wanted to comfort the poor boy he saw sobbing off two lost loved ones.

Little Tim walked up to Dick with the crochet elephant that was admittedly a little funky looking and held it up to him without making eye contact. He had hidden the small plushie from his parents lest they disapprove of his hobby, just like they did with drawing and skating.

Dick had beamed happily and held onto the toy, saying it was so cute and how Tim should be so happy to have it.

Tim had frowned and shook his head, “It’s for you, Mister Grayson. It’s Tifa.”

Never had Tim seen someone so in awe of his creation as he did in that moment and it made him beam just like Dick had been.

Once Dick took the little elephant into his hands Tim had bolted away.

Bruce was next, being gifted a big fluffy jumper on his first birthday after loosing Jason. It was a soft, light green with too long sleeves that went over his ass. It was big, far too big, and thick enough that it might even be too hot in autumn.

He didn’t wear it for a while, mainly because he ignored the big wrapped present Tim had left in his room out of guilt and shame and even a little frustration.

When he opened it up he put it on and promptly broke down, finding the feeling more similar to a hug than he thought something non-hug could get.

He wore it in front of Tim once to show he appreciated it and then wore it whenever he was injured.

Steph got a few things, mainly tops and one big blanket that he gave her after they reconnected when she came back. It had been his way of saying he forgave her and wanted to be her friend again without using words.

Cass got a big poncho with a hood that was rainbow, bright and loud while still capable of hiding her when she felt she couldn’t be seen.

It took a long time for him to make Jason anything after he came back. When he did, him and Tim avoided each other for over a year until Tim overheard Alfred talking to Bruce about how sad it was to not see his two bright boys getting along.

Alfred had been pouring tea with the pot he made a kettle warmer snug with Lilly of the Vally on it when he said it.

So, Tim had searched through his old photos of Jason’s Robin and made himself recall those old ideals and awe. He made himself remember what Jason also had ripped from him and, while it wouldn’t change or excuse how Jason had brutalised him, it made him understand him more.

He decided that instead of joining to Jason and having a heart to heart, that he should do what all bats did and start off without saying a thing.

He makes Jason a blanket that took him over a month of a floral book cover of Jane Ire.

Tim was relived when it was done and simply left it laid out on Jason’s bed in his latest hideout with a note that said,

“I know little about Jane Ire, maybe you could tell me about it sometime?

~ Tim. D.”

Jason had sent him a text a day later to say he could send him a copy with his annotations if he wanted.

It wasn’t long after Tim had read the book, taking twice as long with all the notes Jason had left in it, that he was then left to make something for Damian.

Naturally, he didn’t want to at first.

Also naturally, he got bored and wanted to make another animal after seeing Tifa again. She was cute, but a little munted with age.

He took one look at Titus and promptly made a plan to create him with crochet. He wanted to give it to Bruce after he was done, but he’s only an asshole when he finds it entertaining.

At heart, he’s a kind boy, so he gives it to Damian.

When he gets an actual, verbal thank you from the new Robin, he makes Alfred the Cat and Ace, then finally Bat-cow and Goliath.

The best thing he’s made, according to Duke, is Signals first ever fan made merch that he wears nearly all the time.

Kate says that wrong because the leg warmers he made for winter patrols have apparently saved her life.

Salina would say it’s actually the cat pawed mittens he made her when he was twelve and never told Bruce about.

[blushpawss]

needy in public

warning: fluff + pet names — soft!sylus becomes clingy and touchy with you in public 🩷 + him asking for consent.

main acc: @sushiyuzu

you were walking with sylus at night, enjoying the busy market. there were colorful lights hanging above, people were talking and laughing, and the smell of tasty food was everywhere. your clothes moved in the soft wind, and you felt very happy.

sylus stayed close to you all night, like a lost pup, his big hand always near your small ones. you didn’t mind; he was usually protective, but tonight? he was sticking even closer. as you walked, he gently pulled on your hand, bringing you a little closer to him.

“stay close, kitten,” he whispered softly. his red eyes looked down at you with a warm smile. his silver hair shined under the market lights, making him look even more striking than usual.

you giggled, squeezing his hand. “i’m not going anywhere, sylus.”

he smiled, but you saw he wanted more than just holding your hand. he moved closer, putting his arm over your shoulders and pulling you by his side. it was sweet how he always wanted to be near you, but tonight, he was even more cuddly than usual.

“you okay?” you asked, looking up at him as you walked together.

he nodded, his hand moving from your shoulder to gently hold your waist. “yeah, just... i like having you close,” he said softly. his gentle voice made your heart feel warm and happy.

as you walked through the market, he kept his arm around you, holding you close so you wouldn’t go too far. every now and then, he’d pull you even closer, like he didn’t want any space between you. you smiled to yourself; thinking how sweet it was that he wanted to be close tonight.

you stopped at a stall to look at a cute little trinket, but before you could pick it up, sylus leaned down and rested his chin on your head. his arms wrapped around your waist from behind. you felt surprised, feeling him hug you like that in public, but it made you feel warm and safe.

“what are you doing?” you asked with a little laugh, feeling his arms gently give you a squeeze.

“just want to hold you,” he said, his voice low and content. “is that okay?”

you couldn’t help but feel happy at his words. sylus didn’t usually get this cuddly in public, but you liked it. his warmth against your back felt like being wrapped in the coziest blanket.

“of course, it’s okay,” you whispered, leaning back into him.

he hummed softly in response, and his breath tickled the top of your head. for a moment, you just stood there in his arms while everything else moved around you. it felt like you were in your own little bubble, cozy and warm in sylus’ hug.

“you’re so cute when you’re clingy,” you teased lightly, tilting your head to look up at him.

his crimson eyes sparkled, and he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “i just can’t help it,” he murmured. “you’re my favorite person to hold.”

his red eyes sparkled, and he leaned down to give you a soft kiss on the top of your head. “i can’t help it,” he said softly. “you’re my favorite person to hold.”

his red eyes sparkled as he leaned down, turning you around gently to face him. his hands rested on your waist. his silver hair framed his face nicely, and his eyes looked at you with so much love that it made you feel warm inside.

“i know we’re out in public,” he said softly, his thumb brushing gently along your side, “but i don’t care. i just want to be close to you. is that okay, sweetie?”

you nodded, feeling your heart skip a beat at how sweet he was being. “it’s more than okay,” you whispered.

he smiled, his hand coming up to cup your cheek gently, his thumb stroking the soft skin there. “good,” he said softly, his voice filled with warmth. “because i’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

he wasn’t joking. all night, sylus stayed close to you, holding your hand, putting his arm around your waist, and giving you soft hugs whenever he could. even when you stopped at another stand, he stood behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder, with his arms wrapped around you.

“you’re so clingy tonight,” you teased again, though you couldn’t stop the smile on your face.

sylus just hummed in response, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “i know,” he whispered, his voice full of affection. “but i don’t mind. i just love being with you.”

and you loved being with him, too. you enjoyed feeling his warmth, his gentle touches, and how he made you feel like you were the most important person in the world.

[marauroon]

The Sirius soulmate au ATE SO HARD!!!! I’m foaming at the mouth for more PLEASE

── .✦ 𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬. (𝐬.𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤)

sirius black wanted nothing more in life than to find his soulmate, to give himself the life his parents never had. but of course it’s not that easy.

sirius black x fem!soulmate!reader 7.3k flangst masterlist.

CW | mentions of mistreatment in the black family home, soulmates are complicated, background almost jily, a lot of this is from sirius’ perspective

PART ONE. PART TWO.

AN | sorry this took so long rip i got super distracted reading and annotating sunrise on the reaping

Sirius arrived at the Potter household on a grey Tuesday in late July. He didn’t knock. He didn’t ring the bell. He didn’t say a word.

He simply stood there on the doorstep, trunk in hand, shoulders squared and face set like granite, the sullen drizzle matting his hair to his neck. He looked taller than he had in June, sharper somehow, like someone had chiselled away the softness of boyhood and left something older, angrier beneath.

Fleamont Potter opened the door first, and Sirius didn’t even flinch when the man pulled him into a hug.

“Come in, son,” Fleamont said, already waving his wand to dry Sirius off. “You’re home now,”

It wasn’t until Euphemia emerged from the sitting room with a gasp, nearly knocking a flower vase off the side table in her haste to reach him, that Sirius spoke at all.

“I—” His voice cracked. “I didn’t know where else to go,”

Euphemia simply wrapped her arms around him and whispered, “You don’t need to explain a thing, sweetheart,” She held him tightly, as though he might be whisked back to Grimmauld Place if she let go. “You’ll never go back there. We won’t allow it,”

He didn’t cry. Not then. Not even later when they brought out hot tea and warm blankets and his favourite treacle tart. He simply sat between them on the sofa, stiff and polite, nodding when prompted, making half-hearted comments about the weather or the Prophet. He looked like he was trying to fold himself into a box too small for him, like he didn’t quite know how to exist in a place built on kindness.

James came down the stairs ten minutes later. He froze at the bottom when he saw Sirius, eyes wide and bloodshot. His hair was a mess and he looked like he hadn’t slept properly in days.

Neither of them spoke for a long moment.

Finally, James padded across the room in socked feet and sank beside Sirius. Not touching, but close enough that their shoulders nearly brushed.

“You didn’t write,” James said flatly.

“Didn’t feel like writing,” Sirius replied.

James didn’t push. He only nodded and stared at the fireplace. “Mum told me. About your mum,”

“Yeah. That was… festive,” A ghost of a smile flickered across Sirius’ lips. “Had the whole bloody lineage screaming at me on the way out,”

James let out a hollow snort. “Good riddance,”

They lapsed into silence again. Euphemia returned from the kitchen, gently placing a plate of toasties on the low table. She smoothed Sirius’ hair back from his face like she used to when they were first-years, when he’d come over for tea during the holidays and pretended he didn’t care that his own mother hadn’t sent a single letter.

“Right,” she said firmly. “You’re staying in the guest room. You can decorate however you like. I’ll owl Dumbledore about guardianship papers, but you won’t need to worry about that. We’re your family now,”

Sirius looked at her, eyes dark and unreadable, and said, “Thanks, Mrs Potter,”

She clicked her tongue. “It’s Effie, dear. You know that,”

He nodded. “Thanks, Effie,”

—

The days that followed were strange. Comforting in their routine, but heavy with something unspoken. Sirius adapted quickly—he always did. He helped Fleamont in the garden, trounced James at chess, read books far beyond his year level just to have something to do with his hands. But there was a tension beneath it all, a low hum of energy that had nothing to do with the trauma of leaving home.

The Potters were gentle with him. They didn’t ask about what had happened that final night at Grimmauld Place, though they must’ve known. Euphemia caught him staring out the kitchen window at odd hours, or walking barefoot down the stairs at midnight. Each time, she simply handed him a cup of tea and rubbed his back in slow, soothing circles.

But Sirius didn’t talk about his mother. He didn’t talk about the portraits that had called him a blood traitor, or the mark on his shoulder that had vanished the moment you’d barged past him in a rush to get to Lily.

Not to them anyway. Not even to James, not really. But he talked in the way people do when they’re thinking aloud.

“The thing is,” he said one evening, flopped out across the carpet in James’ room, “I didn’t expect her to want anything to do with me. Not after the shit I’ve pulled,”

James was curled up in his bed, chin on his knees, absently fiddling with a Chudley Cannons badge. “She didn’t even look at you,”

“I know,” Sirius replied. “Didn’t have to. soulmark vanished like that,” He snapped his fingers.

Silence.

“I think I said something to her,” James muttered after a while. “Something really idiotic. Can’t even remember what. Just remember her slapping me,”

Sirius turned his head. “You always say something stupid,”

James grimaced. “One second I was trying to get her attention, and the next—bam.” He touched the side of his face. “It was like lightning.”

Sirius sighed as he sat up. “That sucks for you, huh,”

James huffed. “Yours ran past you without even sparing a glance. That’s not exactly romantic either,”

“No,” Sirius agreed, voice soft. “But it’s fate,”

That made James roll his eyes. “You sound like Pete,”

“No,” Sirius said again, sharper this time. “Pete believes in fairytales. I believe in this,” He hiked up his sleeve over his shoulder. “This is the only thing I ever clung to when the rest of my life was a bloody nightmare,”

James said nothing.

Sirius stood suddenly, pacing. “You know what I’ve been doing since I got here?”

“Reading the Muggle newspapers?”

“Besides that,”

James shrugged.

“I’ve been making a list,” Sirius said. “Of all the ways I’ve screwed this up. All the reasons she might hate me. Everything I’d need to fix about myself,”

James stared. “That sounds… exhausting,”

“It is.” Sirius stopped pacing. “But I’m going to do it anyway. I’ve spent seventeen years being what my family made me—angry, arrogant, cruel. And now I’ve finally got the freedom to decide who I want to be,”

“Because of her?” James asked quietly.

Sirius met his gaze. “Because she’s the one who made me want to be better,”

James looked back down at the badge in his hands. “I don’t think Lily even wants to be in the same room as me,”

“Which is why,” Sirius said, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, “you’re going to help me,”

James snorted. “Help you what? Become the perfect man?”

“Essentially,”

“I’m not playing Pygmalion with you, mate,”

“You don’t have to. Just… come along for the ride,”

James raised an eyebrow. “Why would I do that?”

“Because,” Sirius said simply, “you’re my best mate. And if anyone deserves a happy ending, it’s you,”

—

The plan didn’t arrive all at once. It came in scattered pieces—midnight conversations, awkward silences, and long days spent avoiding any mention of soulmates in front of the Potters. But Sirius was relentless. Once the idea had planted itself, he refused to let it die.

“We’re going to observe,” he said one day over breakfast.

James blinked. “Observe what?”

“You and Lily. Me and—her.”

“Her?” James echoed, amused.

Sirius shot him a look. “I’m not going to say her name, Prongs. Not until I’ve earned it.”

“Merlin, you’re dramatic,”

Sirius ignored that. “We’re going to take note of who they spend time with. What kind of people they gravitate toward. How they speak. What they laugh at,”

James stared at him. “You want us to become someone we’re not?”

“I want us to become someone better,” Sirius corrected. “The kind of people they might actually want to spend time with. The kind of soulmates they deserve.”

James hesitated. “What if it doesn’t work?”

“Then at least we’ll have tried. And maybe we’ll come out of it less— miserable,”

He didn’t say less like my parents, but James heard it all the same.

—

A week before they were due back at Hogwarts, James found Sirius sitting on the back step, scribbling in a notebook that looked suspiciously like one of Effie’s old garden journals.

“What’s this?” James asked, peering over his shoulder.

“Character profiles,” Sirius said. “You’d be surprised how much you can learn from just watching people,”

James sat beside him and sighed. “I still think this is mad,”

“Course it is,” Sirius said brightly. “But since when has that stopped us?”

James thought about Lily’s slap. About the flash of fury in her eyes and the way she’d turned her back like he was nothing. He thought about how it had hurt more than anything he could remember—because it wasn’t just rejection. It was rejection from someone the universe had promised would love him.

“All right,” he said, voice low. “I’ll help. But only because I’ve got nothing better to do,”

Sirius grinned, teeth flashing. “Knew I could count on you,”

James elbowed him. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Sirius laughed. “You won’t. Trust me. This year, we’re turning it all around,”

—

The Hogwarts Express smelled of pumpkin pasties and damp wool as always, and Sirius was already talking before the four boys had even sat down properly in their compartment. The train gave a gentle lurch beneath their feet, setting off from the platform, and Sirius seized the moment as if he’d been waiting all summer for it. Which, to be fair, he had.

“Right,” he began, flopping into the seat opposite James with all the grace of a collapsing wardrobe. “Here’s the deal: we have exactly ten months to reinvent ourselves,”

Remus gave him a sideways look over the rim of his book. “As what? Less of a twat?”

“Exactly,” Sirius said, missing the sarcasm entirely. “We’re launching a… rebranding,”

Peter looked up from unwrapping a chocolate frog. “Of what, exactly?”

“Ourselves,” James muttered, eyes on the window. “Apparently we’re becoming decent,”

“You say that like it’s a punishment,” Remus said mildly.

Sirius leaned forward, his tone suddenly serious. “It’s not a punishment. It’s a mission. Operation Redemption, if you like,”

“Operation Grovel,” James corrected.

“Operation ‘stop making complete fools of ourselves and maybe prove we’re worth something’,” Sirius amended. “Look. I know it sounds mad—”

“Because it is,” Remus offered.

“—but it’s the only thing I’ve had in my head since we left last term,” Sirius’s voice dropped, rough with conviction. “I can’t just sit around doing nothing. Not when I know what I’ve lost. And I’m not going to stand by while James loses it too.”

James made a noise halfway between a sigh and a scoff but didn’t argue.

Remus lowered his book. “So what are you asking?”

Sirius’s expression turned calculating. “We study them. You know… Lily, her friends, my—er… the others. Watch who they talk to. What they like. What they respond well to. We take notes, change our behaviour, and gradually become the kind of people they might actually choose to have in their lives.”

“Sounds manipulative,” Peter said around a mouthful of chocolate.

“It’s not about pretending to be someone we’re not,” Sirius countered. “It’s about becoming better versions of ourselves.”

Remus tilted his head. “And what if the better versions still aren’t good enough?”

Sirius looked straight at him. “Then at least we’ll know we tried. But we’re not going to just… sit in the corner like rejected puppies. Not when we could be doing something.”

James finally dragged his gaze away from the window. “Remus, you’ve got them both in three subjects this term. And Peter, you’re in that Advanced Herbology class with them, right?”

Peter nodded cautiously.

“Brilliant,” Sirius said, brightening. “You two are our intel team,”

“Oh good,” Remus muttered. “A year of espionage,”

James allowed himself a smile, the first real one in days. “At least it’ll be entertaining,”

Sirius clapped his hands together. “So it’s settled. We watch. We learn. We adapt,”

Peter hesitated. “What exactly are we looking for?”

“Character patterns,” Sirius said instantly. “Who they sit with. Who they laugh at. Who they respect. What annoys them. What they praise. Body language, tone, social dynamics—”

“Have you planned this?” Remus asked, sounding both impressed and deeply alarmed.

“Of course I have,” Sirius said. “I’ve had all bloody summer,”

—

By the time the train pulled into Hogsmeade, they already had their first rough plan drafted, scrawled across a spare bit of parchment Sirius had nicked from Euphemia’s writing desk.

They were to divide their observations into two categories: Lily-centric and You-centric. Between Remus and Peter, they'd have solid eyes on Lily. Sirius and James—more specifically Sirius—would take point on you.

By the second week of term, subtle changes began to take root.

It started with something small: Sirius holding open the door to the Charms corridor when he noticed you and Marlene walking behind him. He didn’t make a grand show of it. He simply held it open, gave a casual nod, and continued on his way.

You looked vaguely suspicious.

Next was James—who actually handed in a completed Potions essay on time and, to everyone's shock, didn’t argue with Slughorn about house points.

They paid attention, just like Sirius had promised. You spent an awful lot of time with Marlene and Dorcas between classes. And while you weren’t unfriendly, you were cautious. Selective. Reserved.

Sirius quickly picked up on your patterns: you liked flying but hated crowds. You hated when people raised their voices in arguments. You loved magical theory but loathed practical exams. You sat by the window in the Great Hall if you could, and you always picked the same tea at breakfast—black with a single sugar.

James, meanwhile, had noticed that Lily rarely entertained chaos anymore. She had time for kindness, humour, cleverness—but never cruelty. She stopped talking to people who hexed others for a laugh. She avoided boys who made scenes. She listened intently in class and held others to the same standard.

So the Marauders adapted.

No more public hexes. No more classroom disruptions. No more dramatic declarations of undying love shouted down the Transfiguration corridor.

James stopped leaving love notes on Lily’s books. Sirius stopped trying to impress people with loud jokes. Even Peter, though slightly confused by it all, made an effort not to mutter insults at Slytherins under his breath.

The girls noticed—of course they did—but no one said anything outright.

Marlene narrowed her eyes at Sirius during a late afternoon in the Quidditch locker room. “You’re being weird.”

“Am I?” he asked innocently.

“You haven’t pranked anyone in a month.”

“Personal growth.”

Dorcas snorted. “More like personal agenda.”

Sirius only smiled. “Can’t it be both?”

Meanwhile, Remus kept notes. Actual notes. Folded pieces of parchment tucked inside his Arithmancy textbooks, listing what Lily laughed at (witty observations, clever puns), what she appreciated (help with heavy books, patience in group work), and what irritated her (arrogance, lateness, laziness).

Peter was surprisingly observant, especially when it came to your reactions. He caught the fact that you liked people who were kind to house elves, who waited for others to speak before interrupting, who made space for quieter students in group projects.

“They like people who give a damn,” he said one evening in the common room.

Sirius nodded slowly. “Right. No more bloody showboating,”

“And no more hexing first-years for mispronouncing ‘Alohomora’,” Remus added.

James groaned. “We’ve become… sensible,”

“It’s horrifying,” Sirius agreed. “But I think we might actually be pulling it off,”

The professors certainly noticed. McGonagall, long accustomed to sighing at James and Sirius for disrupting her classes, looked almost suspicious when they began turning in homework on time and raising their hands with relevant questions.

“Is this a prank?” she asked during one class, peering over her glasses at Sirius.

“No, Professor,” Sirius said with the most innocent expression he could manage. “We’ve simply decided to take our education more seriously,”

Her eyes narrowed. “Merlin help us all,”

—

It was around mid-October when Sirius discovered that Marlene had taken it upon herself to secretly give you flying lessons during your free time. He overheard it by accident—passing the empty classroom near the North Tower when he caught your voice, low and laughing.

“You say that like I’m not about to crash into a tree,”

“Trust me,” Marlene replied, “you won’t. You’re actually getting better,”

Sirius paused at the door, not close enough to listen properly, but just enough to catch the look on your face when you glanced back over your shoulder, hair swept back, cheeks flushed.

He didn’t interrupt.

But he did start showing up at the pitch more often—usually after you were done—pretending to be going for a casual evening flight. A Gryffindor beater with nothing better to do.

He let you notice him.

Once, he even timed it perfectly so you passed one another mid-air.

“Nice form,” he called out, not smug, not flirty—just genuine.

You blinked in surprise, but nodded. “Thank you.”

That was it. Just two words. But it was something.

—

Back in the common room, James was trying to teach a second-year how to repair a snapped wand holster when Lily passed behind them. She paused—only for a second—watching James explain the spell slowly and carefully, correcting the student’s wrist movement without taking over.

She didn’t say anything.

But she didn’t roll her eyes either.

Later that night, Lily cornered Remus outside the prefect bathroom.

“Something’s changed,” she said.

Remus arched a brow. “About?”

“Your friends. Black and Potter.”

Remus shrugged lightly. “Maybe they’re just trying to do better.”

“Since when do they try?”

“Since they realised some things were worth it,” he said simply.

Lily didn’t respond right away. “I don’t trust it.”

“You don’t have to,” he said. “But… maybe don’t dismiss it, either.”

—

By Christmas, it wasn’t an act anymore. Not entirely.

Sure, it had started as a mission. A desperate, grief-fuelled plan to win back something that felt cosmic, destined, yours. But in the process of pretending to be decent, they’d accidentally started becoming it.

Sirius was still sarcastic, still dramatic, still wild in a way that made other students stare—but he was kind. Thoughtful. Surprisingly gentle, in quiet moments.

James still had that mischievous glint, but it was tempered now. Calmer. Sharper, somehow.

They were changing. And the students had started to notice.

So had you.

And so had Lily.

The greenhouse was quiet that afternoon, warm and damp with the scent of peat and blooming puffapods. You had a study guide clutched in one hand, a twig of dittany in the other, and a half-memorised list of magical flora spinning circles in your head.

“Wiggentree… valerian root… flitterbloom…” you muttered to yourself, tracing your steps slowly between the rows of potted mandrakes and fanged geraniums.

Studying in the common room had become impossible. Marlene and Dorcas were in the middle of what you could only assume was some kind of prank war, and the explosion of confetti earlier had made it clear that silence was a foreign concept in Gryffindor Tower.

So the greenhouse had become your refuge. Peaceful. Predictable.

Until, of course, it wasn’t.

You paused by the edge of the greenhouse to consult your notes when something caught your eye—a flicker of movement beyond the glass.

You turned, frowning. Something large and dark was hovering near the edge of the far window. At first glance, it looked like a shadow. A shape. You blinked once.

No. Not a shadow.

A dog.

A massive black dog, just sitting there, half-concealed behind the edge of the window pane, watching.

You straightened instinctively. The hair prickled at the back of your neck.

There was no reason a dog—especially not one that size—should be wandering the school grounds. Hogsmeade didn’t allow strays, and even Hagrid didn’t have a dog like that.

You felt a strange, inexplicable tug in the back of your mind. A knowing, like something deep in your magic recognised the presence before your brain caught up.

That’s not a dog, whispered something instinctive.

You didn’t hesitate.

“Revela Forma!”

A shimmer rippled through the glass and into the air beyond.

The dog vanished. And standing there in its place, wearing a stunned expression and a very sheepish smirk, was Sirius Black.

He raised a hand. “Uh, hi.”

Your stomach dropped straight through the floor.

You marched out of the greenhouse door before your rational brain had even returned to your body, the sound of your boots crunching against gravel. Sirius didn’t run. He didn’t even move.

You didn’t stop until you were standing five feet away from him.

“What. The fuck,” you said, every syllable clear and sharp like glass. “Are you stalking me?!”

Sirius winced. “No—well. Not exactly—”

“Oh my God.” You backed up a step. “You’ve been following me around like a fucking dog—literally—just creeping outside of greenhouses in the middle of the day?”

His mouth opened and closed, and for once, Sirius Black had no idea what to say.

“I knew something was off,” you snapped. “You kept showing up—everywhere I was, just coincidentally—and I thought maybe you were just trying to be polite. But this? This is insane.”

“Okay, yes,” Sirius said quickly, “yes, it sounds bad—”

“Because it is bad!”

He held up both hands. “Let me explain.”

You crossed your arms, glaring. “Oh, you’d better.”

Sirius looked like he might laugh, not out of humour, but nerves. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled, hard.

“I didn’t come here to spy on you. Not really. I just… I needed to see you. Not to bother you, I swear. Just… see.”

You didn’t move. You weren’t about to let him off that easily.

“I know you said you didn’t want anything to do with me,” he said, quieter now, his voice scraping around the edges. “Last year, I mean. When the soulmark disappeared. When you—when we—”

“When I barged past you,” you said flatly.

“Right. That.”

Silence pressed down for a moment. Sirius shifted awkwardly.

“I didn’t take that moment for granted,” he said, finally. “I didn’t see the mark vanish and assume it meant anything good. I knew—I know—you want nothing to do with me. And after the way I used to act, I can’t blame you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Then why are you here?”

“Because I’ve spent my whole life being told I wasn’t enough. For anything. And the moment that mark disappeared—our mark—I didn’t feel triumphant. I felt…” He looked at you then, properly. “Like I’d ruined the only good thing fate ever gave me.”

Your mouth opened, then shut.

“I grew up in a house where love wasn’t real unless it was useful,” Sirius went on, voice tight. “My parents weren’t soulmates. They barely tolerated each other. They told me soulmates were for the weak. That blood mattered more than anything else. That destiny was just a fairy tale.”

His hands curled into fists.

“I wanted to believe that wasn’t true. That I wasn’t cursed to become like them. So I held onto that mark like it meant something real. Something better than the twisted version of love I saw growing up. And then I met you.”

You blinked. “You didn’t even like me.”

“I didn’t know you,” he said fiercely. “But the moment the mark vanished—when I touched you and knew—something in me broke. Not because you didn’t want me. I could deal with that. But because I realised I didn’t deserve you. Not then. Maybe not ever.”

He stepped forward, slowly.

“But I want to. I need to. I don’t want to change so you’ll love me. I want to change because I want to be the kind of person who’s worthy of loving someone like you. Even if you never feel the same. Even if you never speak to me again.”

You stared at him.

“I’m not stalking you,” he said again, softer this time. “I’m just… trying. In my own pathetic way. Because you’re it for me. No one else. Just you.”

A long, thick silence followed.

The wind rustled the hedges around the greenhouse. You could hear the faint hum of bees in the distance, the distant echo of laughter from the pitch.

You swallowed.

You could see now, under all the bravado and reckless charm, the exhaustion behind his eyes. Not from sleepless nights or overthinking—but from carrying the weight of being told his whole life he was never enough. That he would never be good enough for anyone.

It didn’t make his behaviour okay. It didn’t excuse the weird dog-stalking. But you saw him.

“You can’t keep doing this,” you said finally. “Following me. Watching from corners. It’s not fair to me.”

He nodded, quickly. “Right. Yes. I’m sorry.”

“I mean it, Sirius.”

“I know.”

“…Please don’t follow me around anymore.”

His expression cracked, just slightly. A soft, quiet disappointment bloomed across his face, but he nodded again without hesitation.

“Okay,” he said. “I won’t.”

And you believed him.

You nodded once and turned to walk back toward the greenhouse.

Sirius stood alone for a long time afterward, staring at the space where you’d been.

He didn’t feel triumphant. But he felt seen.

—

Sirius Black had never considered himself someone who knew how to wait.

He had always been impulsive—loud, fast, reckless. A boy who flew through life on instinct and sarcasm, as if slowing down for even a moment might force him to acknowledge something he wasn’t ready to face.

But this time, he slowed down.

This time, he waited.

No more lurking in corridors. No more appearing at the library table two minutes after you sat down. No more sidelong glances across the Great Hall or sudden offers to walk you to class. He didn’t even sit near you in lessons anymore, deliberately choosing seats across the room or behind other groups.

It wasn’t easy.

He hated the space between you. Hated the feeling that he’d messed up his one and only shot so completely. But he honoured your request, because you’d asked him to.

And for someone like Sirius—who had spent his entire life being told that his needs, his wants, his existence was something to be asserted by force—it was a quiet revolution.

He kept his head down. He didn’t stop being Sirius Black entirely, of course. There were still occasional wisecracks in Defence, still mischief whispered to James during dull lectures. But something had changed.

He was gentler now. Calmer.

And you noticed.

You’d told yourself not to—had sworn to keep your distance, just like he had—but your eyes still found him, from time to time. In the library, bent over a Transfiguration textbook with Remus. On the Quidditch pitch, helping second-years carry beaters’ bats to the storeroom. In the common room, quietly reminding Peter to review the difference between wolfsbane and monkshood for the tenth time.

He left you alone.

And you couldn’t help but admit—maybe not out loud, not yet—that it was the first time you’d really considered that maybe he wasn’t the arrogant arse you’d written him off as.

—

James Potter, meanwhile, was holding steady on his side of the deal.

It was quieter, less dramatic than Sirius’ year-long redemption arc, but no less important. He’d followed Sirius’ lead from the beginning, even reluctantly, and never backed out.

He had stopped hexing people in corridors, even when they definitely deserved it.

He stopped interrupting Lily during class—though he still caught himself glancing at her notes, now more in admiration than mockery.

He began arriving to lessons early. Staying back to help professors collect supplies. He joined a tutoring programme for struggling fourth-years, even though he couldn’t explain fractions to save his life.

It was… obvious, if you were looking. But not performative.

And Lily was looking.

She would never have admitted it aloud, not even under Veritaserum, but she noticed the change in James almost immediately.

She just didn’t trust it.

Because people didn’t really change, did they? Not like that. Not the sort of change that lasted longer than a week. Not when the only motivation was a broken heart and a bruised ego.

So Lily told herself it was temporary. A phase. A guilt trip.

She told herself that right up until the day of the Head Student announcements.

—

It was the first dinner of seventh year, and the Great Hall was buzzing with new timetables, new books, and the usual start-of-term gossip. Lily had sat with you, Mary, and Dorcas at breakfast, mentally rehearsing all the ways she’d kill the Head Boy if it turned out to be a Hufflepuff again.

Then Professor McGonagall stood.

“As is tradition,” she said, projecting clearly above the morning din, “I’d like to congratulate this year’s appointed Head Students.”

Lily set her fork down and folded her hands neatly.

“This year’s Head Girl,” McGonagall continued, “is Miss Lily Evans.”

Applause erupted. You cheered. Mary let out a very unladylike whoop. Lily smiled modestly, her face carefully arranged in the dignified way she’d practised in the mirror the night before.

“And your Head Boy,” McGonagall added, “is Mr James Potter.”

The applause dipped for half a beat.

Lily’s smile froze.

Then the whispers began. Surprise. Confusion. A few outright gasps. Even you turned your head sharply to check Lily’s reaction.

To her credit, she didn’t speak.

She stood, nodded once at McGonagall, and accepted her Head Girl badge with an expression that could’ve been carved in marble.

Across the room, James stood as well. His face was a picture of disbelief—real disbelief, not his usual overconfident swagger. He glanced briefly at Lily, clearly waiting for a reaction, but she gave him none.

They both sat.

For the rest of breakfast, Lily said nothing.

But you could feel the storm brewing behind her eyes.

—

Later, in the quiet of the Prefect’s meeting, that storm broke.

The newly-appointed team gathered in the usual classroom on the fourth floor. Lily sat at the front, posture stiff, eyes forward. James settled beside her, not too close, but not avoiding her either. There was no banter. No jokes. Just silence.

“Congratulations,” James said eventually, quietly enough that only she could hear it.

Lily’s jaw flexed. “Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t act like this is normal.”

He blinked. “I was just saying—”

“You’re Head Boy, James,” she said, finally turning to look at him. Her eyes were sharp, green and flinty. “You. After everything. After all the hexing, and shouting, and peacocking—you.”

He held her gaze. “People change.”

“Do they?”

“Yes,” he said firmly. “Some of us had to.”

There was a pause. A quiet moment that stretched between them like a wire.

“You’ve been trying so hard all year,” Lily said at last. “Like you’re desperate to prove you’re someone else.”

He nodded.

“Is it all just… because of me?”

James looked down. Then, slowly, back up.

“Not all of it,” he said. “But a lot of it started with you.”

Lily opened her mouth. Closed it again.

“I wanted to become someone worthy of standing next to you,” he said, quietly. “Someone you would be proud to work with. And then, at some point, I realised I actually liked the person I was becoming. And I didn’t want to go back,”

She looked away.

He didn’t press her.

And for the rest of the meeting, they worked side-by-side, clean and professional, two perfect student leaders with too many unsaid things between them.

—

You noticed it too.

The tension between Lily and James had always been something to mock, to roll your eyes at, to point at during breakfast with a laugh. But now it felt… different. More serious. More charged.

Lily wasn’t pushing him away quite as quickly anymore.

She still scoffed when he made a joke under his breath—but she also smiled when she thought no one saw.

You did see.

And she caught you seeing.

So, one evening in late October, the two of you sat curled up on the window seat in your dorm, legs tucked under warm blankets, teacups in hand. Outside, the rain poured against the glass like it had something to prove.

You nudged her gently. “You’re not going to be able to keep pretending forever,”

Lily scowled into her cup. “Pretending what?”

“That you don’t notice how much he’s changed,”

She sighed. “He has changed. I know that. I’m not blind,”

“Then what’s stopping you?”

“History,” she said flatly. “And the fact that he still drives me absolutely mad,”

You smiled faintly. “But you see him now,”

She hesitated.

“Yeah,”

She turned toward you. “You saw Sirius in the greenhouse, didn’t you?”

You blinked. “How—?”

“You told Marlene not to hex him after Herbology. She told me,”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. He was watching me.” You decide to omit the dog part.

Lily’s eyes widened. “That’s…”

“Weird?” you offered. “Creepy?”

“Kind of sweet?” she said instead.

You gave her a look. “He was spying.”

“He snuck out of grounds just to see you.”

“That’s not romantic, that’s grounds for suspension,”

Lily snorted into her tea. “What did he say?”

You hesitated. Then you told her.

About how he confessed everything—his upbringing, his belief in soulmates, his guilt and shame and desperation to become someone worthy of you. How he’d promised never to follow you again. How he’d meant it.

Lily listened quietly.

When you were done, she was silent for a long time.

Then she said, “James told me something similar. About wanting to be someone I’d respect,”

You looked at her. “And do you?”

“I don’t know yet,” she admitted. “But I respect who he’s trying to be,”

You nodded slowly. “Same,”

—

After weeks of quiet observation—after months of tiptoeing around old wounds and bruised pride—it was a rainy afternoon in early November when you and Lily did what any two girls in your position would do.

You called a meeting.

It wasn’t official, of course. There were no parchment invitations or secret passwords. Just a pointed look across the common room from you to Lily, a subtle nod, and then a knock on Marlene’s dormitory door followed by a whispered, “Hey, you busy?”

Fifteen minutes later, the five of you were sprawled out on the floor with mugs of cocoa, half-finished essays abandoned in favour of a more pressing discussion.

Dorcas leaned back against a trunk, arms folded across her chest, always the picture of quiet analysis. Mary was already lying flat on her stomach, chin in hands, looking between the two of you with wild curiosity. Marlene, seated cross-legged at the edge of the rug, raised one brow and said dryly, “Let me guess. This is about James and Sirius,”

You and Lily exchanged a look.

“...Sort of,” you said.

“Oh, finally,” Mary muttered, clearly delighted. “We’ve all been waiting for this,”

“Waiting for what?” Lily said, defensive but not angry.

“For you two to admit they’re not complete arses anymore,” Marlene replied. “Which—granted—took longer than expected,”

“They’re still arses,” you said, immediately. “They’re just… quieter arses,”

“They’re trying,” Dorcas said softly, looking at you. “And it’s working. You know it is,”

You bit your lip.

Lily exhaled sharply. “That’s the problem. It is working,”

There was a beat of silence.

You understood exactly what she meant. Because if it hadn’t worked—if they had stayed insufferable, stayed cocky and loud and proud—you could have written them off forever. You could have laughed about it, cursed your bad luck in soulmarks, and eventually moved on without guilt.

But they had changed.

And that complicated everything.

“So,” Dorcas said carefully, “what do you want to do about it?”

“I think…” you said, slowly, “I want to talk to him. Properly. No hexes, no shouting. I just want to—ask.”

“Ask what?” Mary said.

“Why,” you replied, plain and honest. “Why he did it all. Why he thought spying and pretending was the answer. Why he thought he wasn’t good enough in the first place,”

Lily nodded. “Yeah. I want to talk to James too. I want to stop guessing at who he is and just ask him,”

Marlene grinned. “Merlin’s pants. Are you two about to do the mature thing?”

“Oh, shut up,” Lily said, laughing despite herself.

Dorcas smiled. “Good. Have a genuine conversation. See what they say. You don’t owe them anything—but you do owe yourselves clarity,”

—

You didn’t delay.

The next week, you waited outside the Transfiguration corridor just before lunch, nerves buzzing like a live wire under your skin. Students filed past, chattering about NEWTs and Hogsmeade and dinner plans, but you barely noticed them.

Then you saw him—Sirius—shoulder bag slung across his chest, hair a bit windswept, and eyes flicking lazily over the crowd.

You stepped forward.

“Sirius.”

His eyes landed on you.

For a moment, he looked stunned. Like he'd imagined this scenario too many times and now couldn’t quite trust it was real.

“Hey,”

“I want to talk,” you said, before you could lose your nerve. “Properly. No accusations. Just talk,”

He blinked. Then nodded, slowly. “Yeah. Okay. Anywhere in mind?”

You glanced down the corridor. “There’s an empty classroom two doors down,”

He followed you without question.

—

Lily made her move during evening rounds.

The castle was quiet—just the occasional sound of footsteps echoing through the stone corridors as prefects made their last patrols before curfew. James was scheduled to patrol with another Ravenclaw that evening, but Lily had arranged a switch.

He looked up when she approached, clipboard in hand. “Evans,” he greeted, cautious but not cold.

“Potter,” she replied.

They started down the hallway in silence, the glow of their wand tips casting long shadows on the stone walls.

After a few minutes, Lily cleared her throat. “I want to talk to you,”

James paused mid-step. “Okay,”

“Not about rounds,” she added. “About everything else,”

He didn’t smile. Just nodded. “Lead the way,”

They ended up in one of the little alcoves near the Astronomy Tower—a place neither of them had visited since fourth year, back when James had tried to impress her by charming the stars to rearrange into her name. She hadn’t spoken to him for a week afterward.

Now, they sat side by side, the air between them quieter than it had been in years.

—

You perched on the edge of a desk, arms crossed—not defensively, but to steady yourself.

Sirius stayed standing for a moment, then slowly sank into the chair across from you, looking more unsure of himself than you’d ever seen.

You met his gaze.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened,” you said. “And I realised... I don’t actually know why. Why you did any of it. The spying. The pretending. The constant obsession with trying to be the ‘right’ kind of person for me,”

Sirius looked down at his hands.

You continued. “I want to give you a chance. To explain yourself. That’s all. I’m not promising anything. I’m not saying I forgive you. But I’m listening,”

There was a long pause.

Then he said, quietly, “I’ve never really believed I had worth on my own. Not since I was a kid,”

You blinked.

He went on, voice low, like it hurt to say it. “My parents… they always told me soulmates were weakness. That they were dangerous. That love made you foolish. And they treated me like a mistake for even having a mark. They hated it. Hated that I had something they couldn’t control,”

You swallowed.

“I clung to the idea of a soulmate because it was the only thing that felt mine. Like proof that someone out there might love me, even if my family didn’t.” He looked up. “And then, when I realised it was you, and you didn’t want me— I panicked. I thought, ‘of course she doesn’t. I’m not someone worth loving.’ So I tried to become that person,”

You didn’t speak.

“I know it was wrong,” he said. “I know spying and watching was invasive and weird. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know how to just ask for a chance. I thought if I could fix myself first, maybe then you’d—” He cut off, running a hand through his hair. “I just didn’t want to lose the one good thing I thought I had,”

You let the silence settle for a few moments.

“I don’t know what I expected you to say. But... thank you. For being honest,”

Sirius looked up, something like hope flickering in his eyes.

You added, “That doesn’t mean we’re good. But it means... I’m open to getting to know the person you’re becoming. If you’re still becoming him for yourself—not for me,”

He nodded. “I am. I promise.”

You nodded once in return.

—

“I spent a long time hating you,” Lily said, curled on the stone ledge beneath the window.

James didn’t flinch. “Yeah. I deserved it,”

“You were arrogant, loud, a show-off,”

“I know,”

“And then you stopped,” she said, frowning slightly. “Not just for a week. You really changed. And it scared me, because it meant I might have been wrong about you,”

James didn’t say anything.

“I don’t want to rewrite everything I thought I knew,” Lily said. “But I also don’t want to keep punishing you for something you aren’t anymore,”

James finally spoke. “I never expected you to forgive me,”

“I haven’t,” she replied. “Not yet.”

He nodded. “Okay,”

“But I want to understand you better,” she added. “Not the version of you I hated. The version I see now,”

James turned his head to look at her. “You really want to know me?”

“I think,” she said slowly, “I already do. I just need to believe it’s real,”

He smiled, small and soft. “It is. Promise.”

And Lily—proud, precise, always guarded Lily—allowed herself to smile back. Just a little.

—

The next day, you and Lily found each other in the common room.

There was no need for words. You both wore the same quiet expression of exhausted relief and cautious optimism.

Later, over tea, Lily spoke first.

“Well,” she said. “That wasn’t terrible,”

You laughed. “No. It really wasn’t,”