#also normalize drawing without your glasses

[emioliravioli]

i think there's something wrong with my tablet... every time i start drawing, gay people appear on my screen

[kakusu-shipping]

I tried to do one of those Self Ship Cuddle your F/O irl hacks I'd seen in the tag a few months ago and... Something about it made Koro-Sensei and I feel real icky.

Bonus cuddle doodle to end on a better note. Still salty it didn't work

[zyafics]

GIRL WITHOUT A TAIL | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Blurb)

Pairing – Rafe x Mermaid!Female Reader

Summary — Rafe seeks Sarah's help about what to do with you.

Word Count — 1.7K

Content — fluff, protective!Rafe, Sarah acting like a bitch, and you acting clueless and afraid of everything except your mate, also suggestive ending. A continuum of this piece!

Dedication — to @nemesyaaa my own little mermaid, and @promiscuousg1rl for reading it first <3.

“She’s a mermaid?”

Rafe’s telling Sarah about his encounter with you. After taking you back to Tannyhill, you confide in the stranger—your mate—that you’re a mermaid. It’s your first time on land, with legs, and why you wobble with each step. But Rafe didn’t believe you.

However, the conviction in your voice had him second-guessing. The way you peer up at him with such innocent, enchanting eyes that blink with such naivety, he wanted to protect you with all the fibers of his being. He felt like he was being sucked into a trance, not thinking straight, that he sought out a secondary opinion.

Well, more like that she forced him to tell her.

Because Sarah didn’t see a helpless woman who needed Rafe’s help. She saw a stranger, walking around the estate, barely wearing any clothes, except for a half-assed outfit strung together from her brother’s closet.

“Have you gone insane?” Sarah snaps at Rafe, her tone dripping with disbelief. “A mermaid? The fairytales Dad used to tell us about when we were kids?”

Rafe feels insane for believing it.

“I know it doesn’t make sense,” Rafe declares, “But that’s what she told me.”

Sarah blows out a stream of air, shaking her head. “Seriously, Rafe. What type of women are you sleeping with?”

“I’m not sleeping with her,”

“Yeah, because being naked is a default setting,”

“I found her like that,” Rafe hisses at his sister. “She was at the beach, naked, with these fuckin’ seashells as a bra. What else do I suspect?”

“Not a mermaid,” Sarah insists, as if it was the most normal response. She glances towards Rafe’s bedroom, where you stay, and sighs. “Have you asked her where she’s from?”

“The ocean,”

Sarah glares. “Not funny.”

“That’s what she told me,” Rafe declares.

Sarah shakes her head again as if she can’t believe her brother would believe in such nonsense. “Alright, I’ll do it. I guess men can’t do shit,” Sarah announces, grabbing Rafe’s arm and hauling him back to his bedroom.

You stand near the corner of his desk, going through everything of his. All family portraits hung behind glass, all his trinkets he found from scouting the beaches, all the golden rings he wears, and the expensive colognes he sets to the side. Your fingers trace each and every curve, feeling the magnitude of each touch, without the presence of water, in a way that allows you to feel each edge. You don’t even notice Sarah and Rafe’s return until someone clears their throat.

Turning around, you spot your mate beside another woman, her hand wrapped around his wrist. Your brows furrow together, full, pouty lips pull to a subtle frown, unsure of what to make of it. Back in Atlantis, no partners would be so shameless to be seen with another mermaid. For Rafe to do so, strikes your chest.

Rafe must’ve picked it up. Somehow, he understood the look behind your eyes, the way you scrutinize his sister’s touch. “This is Sarah, my sister.”

All concern drops, and you grin. “Hi, Sarah!”

“Hi,” She drawls sardonically. “My gullible brother is telling me you’re a mermaid,"

Rafe wants to nudge Sarah in the ribcage. But, you didn’t seem to acknowledge the insult, nodding your head diligently, as if you were answering an average question. “Yes.”

Sarah squints her eyes at you. “A mermaid with no tail,” she boasts suspiciously, but you don’t see it as that.

“Yes,” you answer again, your tone indicating causality as if this concept isn’t hard to grasp.

“So a human,” Sarah concludes, drawing back to the board, just as Rafe done before.

“No,” you make a sound of frustration; you went through a similar conversation with Rafe before, and you feel something tense bubbling in your throat. You attempt to walk towards them, to explain further, but you lost your footing. However, Rafe easily appears by your side and catches you.

“Alright, Bambi, slow down,” he murmurs into your freshly-dried hair; soft, voluminous, laced with the sweet smell of the sea. You peer up at him, doe-shaped eyes with complete and total vulnerability, as if you trust him.

“She certainly got the walk down,” Sarah comments and Rafe lifts his gaze to glare at his sister. You shiver under his embrace, and for some reason, Rafe recognizes it’s because of Sarah.

She’s making you uncomfortable and targeted like you can’t seem to grasp that. Rafe can’t explain how he knows this—how he feels it—but he does. You’re frustrated, and a little hurt, and it’s vibrating off of your body like a shaken leaf.

“Stop interrogating her,” Rafe snaps, defensive of you.

“You asked for my opinion,”

“An opinion, not to be a bitch,” he declares, his other arm wraps protectively over your waist, drawing you closer to him. You revel in the feeling of his warmth, nuzzling against his chest to find comfort.

Sarah rolls her eyes; somehow, she recognizes that you got her brother under a spell. “So what happens now?”

Rafe doesn’t know. He’s trying to figure out the pieces and combine mythology with reality, but nothing makes sense. If he takes your words at face value, that means there’s a reason for your presence, rather than a simple encounter. He plans to take a trip to Ward’s office, to look through his treasured collection of sailor’s stories, and figure out a solution from there.

But there’s also another problem: you.

You and your nakedness.

“Can you do me a favor and take her shopping?” Rafe asks.

“Shopping?” Sarah repeats. “For clothes?”

“No, for a ring,” Rafe replies sardonically. “Yes, for fuckin’ clothes. She didn’t have anything, she barely fits into me, and I doubt you’re the type to share.”

Sarah hums, confirming the last comment.

When Rafe turns back to you, in his arms, his expression softens, his voice layered with a sweetness no one ever had the privilege of hearing before. “We’re going to get you some clothes.”

“Clothes?” You repeat, brows wrinkling together at the foreign concept. “Human clothes?” You pick at Rafe’s shirt, running your fingers across the soft fabric.

He nods. “Clothes.”

You beam at this new exploration; this new human concept that you’ve never had before. You try to stand on your own feet, nearly falling, before finding ground. Sarah approaches you and gently grabs your hand, pulling you towards the door—slowly, cautiously to not lose your footing—but, a few steps in, you resist.

Rafe isn’t following you. He’s abandoning you to a strange woman, a strange companion you don’t completely trust in.

You turn back to Rafe, expression full of panic.

“You’re not coming?” You ask, your voice sultry and soft, as if you can’t seem to distinguish between captivation and causality.

Rafe shakes his head, but his heart aches at the look on your face. “I have work to do.”

You frown. You don’t know if you want to go now either, especially without your mate. But his sister tugs on your arm, and despite her tight grip, you resist.

“Sarah’s my sister,” Rafe explains again, hoping to calm the fear in your eyes. “She’ll keep you safe.”

You hesitate, turning back to Sarah, expecting to find the sardonic, humorless look on her face. But all hostility originally boasted has depleted, and she glosses over with a tender look, almost keeping to the promise of what her brother preaches.

Reluctantly, you nod, and follow Sarah out of Rafe’s bedroom, out of the sanction, and away into the open world.

A few hours later, Rafe’s at the kitchen island, going through old scripts. He’s searching through old maps, and old journal entries, to find any clues about your sudden presence at Kildare. His focus tunes everything out—until the noise of you tripping upon return causes him to lift his gaze.

What he sees takes his breath away.

You’re in the most gorgeous, detailed dress; layered with this blue iridescent color that makes you look like a fantasy. It accentuates every curve on your body, strategically revealing tantalizing skin, and boosts this wave of etherealness.

Rafe can’t seem to look away.

Sarah falls in line beside the counter, her arms leaning against the island, noticing the way you caught her brother in a trance.

“Your little mermaid eats fish,” Sarah declares, causing him to snap out of his state.

He turns to her. “What?”

“I mean, for a mermaid, she can eat fish; for some reason, I assumed they only ate kelp,” she chuckles to herself. Rafe realizes that Sarah took you out to lunch, at some restaurant downtown. “If it helps, she’s also very knowledgeable about the sea. Kept going on tangents about different species, how they interact in the ocean, and even challenged a couple of jewelry stores about their pearls. I was almost convinced she’s a real mermaid.”

Rafe doesn’t say anything, his sister’s voice slowly slipping into the background when his gaze returns back to you.

You’re twirling in your dress, catching your footing, and losing it in the same breath, while laughing at the way the fabric spins around you. A melodic, siren-song laugh that sounds enchanting.

“What?” Sarah asks, noting his brother’s lack of response. She follows his line of vision. “You don’t like the dress?”

Rafe swallows, feeling something thick in his throat, before rubbing his jaw. He forces himself to snap out of it—again—before turning back to his sister. The lure to return back to you is hard to resist. “You couldn’t have found something less… form-fitting?”

Sarah scoffs. She can’t believe Rafe’s complaining. “You should be glad I got her into something at all,” she declares. “For a mermaid who’s so fascinated with human customs, she truly does not respect any of it.”

“What do you mean?”

Rafe returns back to you, and the way you find your space in his living room, while Sarah lowers herself to her brother’s level, meeting the shell of his ear, as if she’s trading a secret.

“She’s not wearing any panties.”

IMPORTANT INFO ABOUT TAGLIST AND UPDATES: if you want to be notified about all my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications! however, if you want to be added to this specific taglist, let me know (but to remain tagged, you must interact with the posts).

TAGLIST FOR MERMAID!READER: @fullofsunshineandloneliness / @erwinsvow / @perfectprettypisces / @immalosersblog / @carolinevoight

[ghstyles]

Birthday Girl | H.S

Friendrry | Fluff | One shot | Fine line Harry | Masterlist

a/n: It's my birthday, therefore, it's also Y/N's birthday. Hopefully I'm not stood up like her

· · ─────────── ·H.S· ────────── · ·

The restaurant is upscale without being pretentious, exactly the type of place where a group of twenty-somethings might gather for a special occasion without completely emptying their bank accounts. Soft lighting casts a warm glow over polished wood tables and leather booths, while ambient music plays at a volume that allows for easy conversation.

Y/N sits alone at a large table set for twelve, feeling increasingly conspicuous as the minutes tick by. The birthday headband she'd bought on a whim, silver with "Birthday Girl" spelled out in glittering letters, is stuffed into her bag, her initial enthusiasm for wearing it having evaporated around the fifteen-minute mark of sitting alone.

She checks her phone again, scrolling through the mounting collection of last-minute cancellations and excuses. Work emergencies, sudden illnesses, family obligations, all perfectly reasonable individually, but collectively forming a pattern that's impossible to ignore. A few haven't even bothered to text, their silence speaking volumes.

The waitress approaches for the third time, her sympathetic smile barely masking her pity.

"Are you still waiting for the rest of your party?" she asks gently.

Y/N forces a smile, though it feels brittle on her face. "Just a few more minutes, if that's okay. I'm sure they're just running late."

The waitress nods, clearly not believing it any more than Y/N does, but kindly playing along. "No problem. Can I get you another drink while you wait?"

"Please," Y/N agrees, sliding her half-empty cocktail glass toward the edge of the table. "A stronger one this time, if you don't mind."

As the waitress retreats, Y/N slumps slightly in her chair, the carefully applied makeup and styled hair suddenly feeling like wasted effort. She'd been so excited about tonight, her twenty-fifth birthday, surrounded by friends in a nice restaurant, maybe even making a better impression on Harry Styles if he actually showed up (which he clearly wasn't going to).

It had been impulsive, adding him to the invite list. They weren't really friends, more like friendly acquaintances who shared a social circle. They'd met a handful of times at parties and gatherings, exchanged pleasant conversation, laughed at the same jokes. Nothing special, except for the way her heart seemed to beat a little faster whenever he walked into a room, or how she found herself paying more attention when he spoke.

But that was normal, wasn't it? He was Harry Styles, after all. Harry Styles. Everyone reacted that way to him.

Still, she'd sent the text invitation, trying to sound casual: Having a birthday dinner on Friday. Nothing fancy, just food and friends. You're welcome to join if you're around.

He hadn't responded, which wasn't surprising. He was probably on tour, or in a studio, or on a yacht somewhere with a supermodel. The invitation had been a shot in the dark, nothing more.

The waitress returns with a significantly stronger cocktail, setting it down with another sympathetic smile. Y/N thanks her and takes a long sip, the alcohol burning pleasantly down her throat.

Thirty-five minutes now. This is officially pathetic.

She reaches for her bag, ready to settle the bill for her drinks and slink home to salvage what remains of her dignity, when the restaurant's front door bursts open with enough force to draw every eye in the place.

Harry Styles stands in the doorway, slightly out of breath, his hair wild as if he's been running his hands through it repeatedly. He's wearing black jeans and a partially unbuttoned silky shirt in a shade of blue that makes his eyes look even more vibrant than usual. Most strikingly, his face is covered in what appears to be remnants of glitter and stage makeup, as if he's come straight from some kind of photoshoot or performance without taking time to clean up.

For a moment, Y/N thinks she must be hallucinating, perhaps the second, stronger drink was a mistake on an empty stomach. But then Harry's eyes lock with hers across the restaurant, and his face breaks into a relieved smile that sends her heart into an irregular rhythm.

"Y/N!" he calls out, loud enough to draw more stares as he weaves through tables toward her. "Thank god you're still here. I'm so, so sorry I'm late."

He reaches her table, slightly breathless, and Y/N can only stare up at him in shock, her planned departure forgotten.

"Harry?" she manages, her voice embarrassingly small. "You...came?"

"Of course I came," he says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. He pulls out the chair next to hers and sits down, leaning toward her with an earnest expression. "I'm really sorry I didn't respond to your text. I wasn’t sure what time the photoshoot was and didn’t want to say yes and then bail the day of." 

Y/N is still trying to process the fact that Harry Styles is sitting at her birthday dinner, apologizing to her as if his presence was expected, even guaranteed.

"But...how did you know where to come? And when?" she asks, confusion evident in her voice.

Harry's expression softens, a slight blush coloring his cheeks beneath the remnants of makeup. "I, uh, asked Mia for the details when I saw her last week. After I got your text." He runs a hand through his already disheveled hair, looking uncharacteristically nervous. "I meant to reply, I really did. But then I got busy with work, and...well, I'm here now."

He glances around the table, his brow furrowing as he takes in the empty chairs and untouched place settings.

"Where is everyone else? Mia, Zack, the others?"

Y/N feels a fresh wave of humiliation wash over her. It's one thing to be stood up by all her friends; it's another to have Harry Styles witness it.

"They, um, couldn't make it," she says, aiming for casual but landing somewhere closer to mortified. "Last-minute things came up."

Harry's expression shifts, confusion giving way to understanding and then, surprisingly, anger. His jaw tightens, a muscle working in his cheek as he glances around the empty table again.

"All of them?" he asks, his voice low and controlled. "Every single person had something 'come up' on the same night?"

Y/N shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant despite the lump forming in her throat. "It happens. People are busy."

"No," Harry says firmly, a hardness in his tone that Y/N has never heard from him before. "No, that's not okay. It's your birthday, Y/N. They RSVP'd, yeah? They committed to being here?"

Y/N nods reluctantly, not meeting his eyes. "Most of them, yeah. But honestly, it's fine. I was just about to head home anyway."

"Absolutely not," Harry declares, his tone brooking no argument as he settles more firmly into his chair. "It's your birthday dinner, and we're going to have a proper celebration."

Before Y/N can protest, Harry flags down the waitress who's been hovering nearby, clearly curious about the unexpected arrival of a pop star at her station.

"Hi there," Harry greets her with his signature charm, his earlier anger carefully masked behind a warm smile. "We're ready to order now. Just the two of us."

The waitress, whose nametag reads 'Sophie', blinks rapidly, visibly star-struck but maintaining her professionalism. "Of course, sir. Would you like to hear the specials?"

As Sophie recites the day's offerings, Harry turns to Y/N with a conspiratorial smile. "What are you hungry for, birthday girl? Order anything you want. It's on me tonight."

Y/N shakes her head, embarrassment coloring her cheeks. "Harry, you don't have to do this. Really, I understand if you want to leave."

Harry's expression softens, his green eyes holding hers steadily. "I don't want to leave, Y/N. I want to celebrate your birthday with you. If you'll let me."

There's something in his gaze, a sincerity, a warmth, that makes Y/N's protests die on her lips. She nods slowly, a small, genuine smile finally finding its way to her face.

"Okay," she agrees softly. "Thank you."

Harry's answering smile is brilliant, lighting up his entire face. "Brilliant. Now, what shall we order? I'm starving."

They place their orders, Y/N choosing her favorite pasta dish, Harry opting for the steak, and settle into conversation that starts slightly awkward but quickly becomes surprisingly easy. Harry asks about her job , her family, her plans for the future, listening with genuine interest to her answers. In turn, he shares stories from his recent tour and the photoshoot he just came from.

"That explains the..." Y/N gestures vaguely at his face, where flecks of glitter still catch the light when he moves.

Harry laughs, rubbing at his cheek and examining the sparkly residue on his fingers. "Yeah, sorry about that. They had me in full makeup and glitter for this avant-garde fashion spread. I tried to clean up before leaving, but they were taking forever, and I was already so late..."

He trails off, looking suddenly shy. "I didn't want to miss your birthday entirely."

The simple admission sends a flutter through Y/N's chest that she tries desperately to ignore.

"Well, you look good with glitter," she offers, then immediately feels her cheeks heat at the compliment. "I mean, it suits you. The whole rock star aesthetic."

Harry's dimple appears as he grins at her, clearly pleased by her flustered state. "Thanks. Though I'm more partial to a classic suit these days."

Their food arrives, momentarily pausing the conversation as they arrange plates and napkins. As Y/N reaches for her water glass, Harry suddenly snaps his fingers, as if remembering something.

"Oh! I almost forgot." He reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket, which he'd draped over the back of his chair, and pulls out a small, neatly wrapped package. "Happy birthday, Y/N."

Y/N stares at the gift, surprised and touched that he'd thought to bring something. "Harry, you didn't have to get me anything."

"I wanted to," he says simply, pushing the package toward her. "It's nothing fancy, just something small I thought you might like."

With slightly trembling fingers, Y/N unwraps the package to reveal a delicate silver bookmark. The top of it is shaped like a crescent moon, with tiny stars dangling from fine chains attached to it. It's beautiful in its simplicity, clearly chosen with thought rather than expense in mind.

"I remembered you mentioning how much you love reading," Harry explains, watching her face carefully for her reaction. "And how you hate dog-earing pages. Thought this might be useful."

Y/N runs her finger over the smooth silver, deeply touched by the thoughtfulness of the gift. It shows that he's actually paid attention to things she's said in their brief interactions, that he's remembered details about her that most people wouldn't.

"It's perfect," she says softly, looking up to meet his eyes with a genuine smile. "Thank you, Harry. I love it."

His answering smile is warm, relief evident in his expression. "I'm glad. Now, " he glances toward her bag, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "I’m pretty sure that is supposed to go on your head. What’s it doing in your bag?"

Y/N groans, covering her face with her hands. "No way. I'm not wearing that thing. It was silly enough when I thought I'd be with a group of friends, but in public, with just us? Absolutely not."

"Come on," Harry coaxes, his voice taking on a playful wheedling quality. "It's your birthday! You should wear the headband. I bet it's sparkly and fabulous."

"It's ridiculous," Y/N counters, though she can feel her resolve weakening under his charming insistence.

Harry leans forward, his expression suddenly serious. "Y/N, as someone who has worn some truly outrageous things on stage, feather boas, sequined jumpsuits, that one unfortunate experiment with leather chaps, I can assure you that a birthday headband is extremely tame by comparison."

A laugh escapes her despite her best efforts. "Leather chaps?"

"We don't talk about the chaps," Harry says gravely, though his eyes are dancing with humor. "The point is, you should embrace the birthday spirit. Wear the headband."

With an exaggerated sigh of surrender, Y/N reaches into her bag and pulls out the sparkly "Birthday Girl" headband. Before she can change her mind, Harry gently takes it from her fingers and stands up, moving behind her chair. With surprising tenderness, he carefully places the headband on her head, adjusting it so that the glittering letters are centered.

"Perfect," he declares as he returns to his seat, his voice softer than before, his eyes lingering on her face in a way that makes her stomach flip. "Beautiful birthday girl."

The compliment, delivered with such quiet sincerity, sends a wave of heat to Y/N's cheeks. She drops her gaze to her plate, suddenly finding it difficult to meet his eyes.

"Thank you," she murmurs, not just for the compliment but for everything, for showing up, for staying, for making what could have been a humiliating disaster into something unexpectedly special.

Harry seems to understand the multiple layers of her gratitude, his expression softening as he raises his glass in a toast.

"To Y/N," he says, his voice warm with genuine affection. "Happy 25th birthday. May it be the beginning of your best year yet."

Y/N raises her own glass, clinking it gently against his. "Thank you for salvaging it."

"The night's still young," Harry points out with a grin. "We haven't even had dessert yet. I heard the waitress mention something about a chocolate lava cake that sounds absolutely sinful."

As they continue their meal, Y/N finds herself relaxing more and more in Harry's company. There's something about him that puts her at ease, the way he listens intently when she speaks, the genuine interest in his questions, the complete lack of pretense despite his fame. By the time they're sharing the aforementioned chocolate lava cake (which is indeed sinful), Y/N has almost forgotten the initial heartache of being stood up by her friends.

Harry, however, has not forgotten. As they near the end of their meal, he brings the subject up again, his tone careful but firm.

"I still can't believe none of them showed up," he says, stirring his drink thoughtfully. "That's really not okay, Y/N. Friends don't do that to each other."

Y/N sighs, the hurt she'd been successfully ignoring for the past couple of hours resurfacing. "I know. It's just...I don't think I'm a priority for any of them. Not really."

Harry frowns, clearly troubled by her words. "Then they're idiots. All of them."

The vehemence in his voice surprises Y/N. "You don't even know them all that well."

"I know enough," Harry counters. "I know that anyone who would bail on your birthday dinner without a genuinely emergency-level reason is not someone who deserves your friendship."

He hesitates, then adds more gently, "You deserve better friends, Y/N. People who show up for you the way you'd show up for them."

Y/N nods, a lump forming in her throat at his kindness. "Maybe you're right."

"I know I'm right," Harry says with a confidence that would sound arrogant from anyone else but somehow just sounds caring coming from him. "And for what it's worth, I'm really glad I got to be here tonight. Even if the circumstances aren't what either of us expected."

There's something in his tone, a hint of something more than friendly concern, that makes Y/N look up sharply, catching an expression on his face that she can't quite decipher before it's replaced by his usual easy smile.

"Me too," she admits quietly. "It's been...nice. Really nice."

Harry's smile widens, his dimple deepening in that way that makes her heart skip. "Good. That was the goal."

When the check comes, Harry smoothly intercepts it before Y/N can even reach for it.

"Harry, no," she protests. "You've already done so much. Let me at least pay for my part."

"Not a chance," Harry says firmly, already sliding his credit card into the leather folder. "It's your birthday dinner. Besides, I didn’t even RSVP, remember? Technically, I'm crashing your party."

"Some crash," Y/N retorts with a small laugh. "You're literally the only guest who showed up."

Something flickers in Harry's eyes, a brief shadow that's gone almost as quickly as it appeared. "Their loss," he says softly. "Truly."

As they prepare to leave, Y/N carefully placing her new bookmark in her bag and reluctantly removing the birthday headband (at Harry's insistence, she'd worn it through the entire meal, even when the waitstaff brought out a complimentary slice of cake with a candle and sang to her), she finds herself not wanting the evening to end.

"So," Harry says as they step out into the cool evening air, standing awkwardly on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. "Can I call you a car? Or are you close enough to walk home?"

Y/N hesitates, torn between not wanting to impose further and not wanting to say goodbye just yet. "I'm not far. Just a few blocks."

Harry nods, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Right. Well, I could walk you? If you want. Just to make sure you get home safe."

There's an uncharacteristic uncertainty in his voice, as if he's genuinely unsure whether she'll want to prolong their time together. It's this hint of vulnerability that gives Y/N the courage to be honest.

"I'd like that," she says with a small smile. "If you don't mind."

Relief crosses Harry's face, followed by a warm smile. "I don't mind at all."

They fall into step beside each other, walking in comfortable silence for a few moments before Harry speaks again, his voice casual, almost too casual.

"So, this might be a bit forward, but...would you maybe want to do this again sometime? Without the birthday headband, I mean. Just...dinner. Or coffee. Or whatever you like, really."

He's rambling slightly, which Y/N finds endearing coming from someone usually so composed and confident. It takes her a moment to process what he's actually asking.

"Are you...asking me out?" she clarifies, unable to keep the surprise from her voice. "Like, on a date?"

Harry stops walking, turning to face her directly. In the soft glow of the streetlights, with flecks of glitter still catching the light on his cheekbones, he looks almost otherworldly, a fairy tale prince somehow transported to a London sidewalk.

"Yes," he says simply, his green eyes steady on hers. "I am."

"But..." Y/N struggles to make sense of this unexpected turn. "Why? I mean, you're you, and I'm...just me."

Harry's brow furrows slightly, a flash of frustration crossing his features. "Do you really not know?"

When Y/N just stares at him blankly, he runs a hand through his hair, messing it up even further.

"Y/N, I've wanted to ask you out since the first time we met, at Tom's birthday thing last year. You were wearing that green dress, and you were arguing with someone about books, and you were so passionate and smart and beautiful that I couldn't take my eyes off you."

Y/N's mouth falls open slightly in shock. She remembers that night, remembers being introduced to Harry Styles and trying desperately to act normal while her heart threatened to beat out of her chest. She remembers getting into a heated debate with Tom's pretentious cousin about the literary merits of contemporary fiction, completely forgetting about Harry's presence until she looked up to find him watching her with an amused smile.

"But you never said anything," she manages finally.

Harry shrugs, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. "I tried. Several times, actually. But something always got in the way, you'd leave early, or someone would interrupt, or I'd lose my nerve." He laughs softly, shaking his head at himself. "Not very rock star of me, I know."

"So when I texted you about tonight..." Y/N begins, pieces starting to fall into place.

"I nearly dropped my phone in excitement," Harry admits with a self-deprecating grin. "Asked Mia immediately for all the details, made sure I'd be in London, even rescheduled some studio time."

He reaches up, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture that seems almost shy. "I was planning to play it cool, you know? Just show up with the group, maybe sit next to you if I could manage it, see if we hit it off properly."

His expression darkens slightly as he continues, "Then I show up and find that all of our so-called friends have bailed on your birthday. Which, by the way, made me want to call each of them personally and give them a piece of my mind. But it also gave me the chance to spend time with just you, which was...well, it was perfect, actually."

Y/N stares at him, trying to process everything he's saying. Harry Styles has had a crush on her for a year. Harry Styles rearranged his schedule to attend her birthday dinner. Harry Styles wants to date her.

It's too much to take in all at once.

"You don't have to answer now," Harry says quickly, misinterpreting her silence. "I know it's a lot, and you've had a weird night, and I'm probably not making it any less weird by dumping all this on you. We can just–"

"Yes," Y/N interrupts, surprising herself with the firmness of her answer. "Yes, I'd like to go on a date with you."

Harry's face lights up with a smile so bright it could rival the streetlamps illuminating the sidewalk around them. "Yeah? You're sure?"

Y/N nods, a matching smile spreading across her own face. "I'm sure. Although I have to warn you, it'll be hard to top tonight. Not many first dates involve a birthday headband and abandoned dinner reservations."

Harry laughs, the sound warm and genuine in the quiet of the evening. "I'll do my best to make it memorable in other ways."

They stand there for a moment, smiling at each other like idiots beneath the streetlight, before Harry offers his arm in an old-fashioned gesture that somehow doesn't feel out of place coming from him.

"Shall we continue, birthday girl? I believe I promised to see you safely home."

Y/N slips her arm through his, feeling a warmth that has nothing to do with the mild evening air and everything to do with the man beside her.

"Lead on, Styles," she says with a teasing smile. "And for the record, I'm glad you were the only one who showed up tonight."

Harry's answering smile is soft and intimate, just for her. "Me too, Y/N. More than you know."

As they continue down the sidewalk, arms linked and conversation flowing easily between them, Y/N thinks that perhaps being stood up on her birthday wasn't such a disaster after all. In fact, it might just be the best thing that's ever happened to her.

Taglist: @triski73 @angeldavis777 @ivegotthecinemaa @bethiegurl19 @sstylezzz @spargelhund @myfavefanficsever @spinnic @catmomstyles3 @mads3502

[oddlylovingaddiction]

; Coming Full Circle

Part 1: here , Part 2: here , Part 3: here , Part 4: You’re here!

CW: Reader is pregnant BUT is gender neutral only being referred to as you, if you don't have the ability to get pregnant you do now (in this series). Neglected reader x (platonic.) bat family, Reader x Conner “Kon-El” Kent (romantic.). Reader is probably around in your 20s (21 - 25) and is the 5th(??) oldest

TW: Heavy Angst, a lot of crying, abuse in the form of neglect, pregnancy, Reader briefly expresses regret for existing

Theres a beat of silence after your husband came crashing through the window, minus the sound of your own sobs, you’re too overwhelmed to focus on the crash after all you just found out the people who neglected you, apparently they had done it all to protect you. Even when it wasn’t something you asked to be protected from. You missed out on so many things normal families did and now all it did was leave you scarred, untrusting with deep attachment issues and currently sobbing on the floor surrounded by glass that your husband shattered to get to you.

“CONNER?” Yells Tim in pure shock, which finally makes you finally look up and towards the crash. There, Conner Kent, your husband stood. He was clearly in shock, his soulmate who was pregnant with his child is kneeling on the floor, eyes a soft red and face all puffy as tears slip down. Meanwhile his best friend’s family is staring at said soulmate on the floor awkwardly.

When you see him you honestly cry harder, finally you’re not alone surrounded by people who supposedly loved you but someone who did truly care, and wouldn’t go fucking up your life, at least not without asking first.

“Please take me home Conner…” you sob choking on your own words as you stare at him desperately. Hearing you speak snaps him out of his shock, perhaps on autopilot he picks you up, making sure you are shielded away from your family. “Sorry dude, I’ll… text later. Maybe.” He says solemnly speaking to Tim but he still only looks at you. Tim goes to say something but before he can Conner is gone instantly, leaving behind one stunned bat family.

Conner flies through the sky still holding a sobbing you as he gently whispers “hey.. hey, it’s okay I’ve got you now. You’re safe.” in an attempt to soothe you and himself as well.

He knew you were like him, had family issues and weren’t loved quite right. Perhaps that’s how you guys bonded so fast, shared trauma is a powerful bonding agent. But he never knew who exactly they were, he knew you didn’t want to talk about it and he respected that. When he met you, you had your mother’s last name before taking his, so he never even had the slightest idea Bruce Wayne was your father. Also didn’t help Tim never once mentioned your name, unlike the other siblings he’d call by name, Tim referred to you only as “My other sibling.” on the rare occasions he did allude to you existing.

If he could get a headache right now he would, unfortunately(?) due to Kryptonian things he can’t. As he’s flying he thinks briefly before landing at your shared home ‘Damn what the hell is going on.’

You don’t remember what happened the rest of the night when you got home, you only remember continuously sobbing and a worried Conner trying his best to soothe you all for it to fail. It was so bad when Conner put you down on the couch to get you some water, when you tried to stand you just fell to your knees only able to lean on the couch as support, holding onto it like it’ll somehow save you. Perhaps all the suppressed emotions came flooding, a life time of being strong to have it crumble.

the years of watching your supposed siblings hanging out but it almost disbanding when you tried to join,

the months of drawings about your supposed father holding your small hand left unlooked,

the weeks of wondering if maybe you prayed hard enough someone would hug you

and the days of wondering if you would’ve been better off at the orphanage, or better yet never been born at all.

Now suddenly they did it for your sake? All the missed moments? You want to laugh and scream. The irony of thinking it’s better to neglected a child than to tell said child the truth. You feel Conner put a reassuring hand on your back gently rubbing when he hands you the glass of water, you push it away. You just need to cry, not water. He seems to understand putting it to the side on the hard wood floor and instead choosing to be a comforting presence while you cry.

You cry and sob for hours, unable to stop. Even when it slows down enough for Conner to finally get you to drink some water, urge you to change into your pjs because it was close to dawn now and you hadn’t slept a bit, you can still feel the tears rolling down. You think you must’ve passed out from crying because the last thing you remember seeing was Conner’s worried face like he would’ve cried too and now you’re looking at the sunrise peak through the blinds.

You sit up and sit on the edge of the bed looking down you feel dull and empty, like the entire world suddenly decided to drain itself of all joy and leave you with nothing. As you get up you pass the shared floor length mirror, when you look at yourself, all you can think of is how you look like a husk of a person. To be expected, you did go through something emotionally taxing and you did cry a lot so it makes sense your eyes look empty.

You can smell burnt pancakes. It seems Conner is trying to bake again…

As you enter the kitchen you can see the pile of burnt pancakes on a plate he prepared. Conner gives you an awkward smile as he looks at you and the pancakes, “In hindsight it’s a lot different to use heat vision than the stove.” You pause staring at him and then at the pancakes again, he looks nervous before he clarifies “they’re still edible I promise…”

A smile spreads across your face before you begin to laugh. And laugh. And laugh. Somehow you laugh so hard it morphs into crying again when you threw your head back in a fit of laughter. Conner’s relieved face at you laughing turns to worry again as he floats over quickly to have you in his arms.

You cry your eyes out into Conner’s shirt as he holds you tight against him. “Hey, it’s okay, we are going to be okay.” Conner says gently rubbing your back supportively.

“I just can’t believe for such a stupid reason they shut me out!” You weep into your hands, the tears almost collecting in your palms as you finally start speaking. “But at the same time I.. I sort of get it? and it’s frustrating because… I don’t know! Cause it feels like now I don’t have the right to complain or just be upset anymore!” You shout frustrated by everything and all the emotions you’re feeling merging together to create one big storm. “Perhaps it’s somehow my fault—“ you mumble softly before you’re cut off by Conner.

Conner grabs you face and makes you look at him before you can finish, his face solemn as he speaks “You have every right to complain, even if they had good fucking intentions it still hurt. And that sucks.” His face scrunches a bit from sadness at frustration. “Don’t say stuff like it’s your fault. It’s not and I won’t let them demean the one good thing I have in my life.” He gently taps the side of your face before sadly smiling at you and your teary eyed face.

You chuckle softly. You want to cry more but you don’t feel like crying when you remember that Conner loves you and even if you don’t have a father or siblings like you wanted, you still have your adoring, handsome, funny, charismatic husband and an adorable child-to-be-born that’ll have your amazing looks and his personality. It may not have been the family you always wanted as a kid but it’s what you want and need now, and that’s all that matters.

“Hey, Let’s spend today in bed and order food the entire day.” You say smiling at him your face still feels a bit weird after all that crying.

“Sounds good… but are we not going to eat my pancakes?” He teases

“I love you, but not enough that I’d eat actual ash for you.”

“Oh wow so you don’t love me anymore?” Conner replies clutching his chest dramatically before taking a step back to lean himself the table like he’s dying. To which you roll your eyes.

“Okay that’s NOT what I said. Anyways I’m going to rest in bed, come join after you finished ordering breakfast and being dramatic.” You remarked before you walk away and into the bedroom to wait for him, you knew he wouldn’t be long.

Meanwhile the entire bat fam is FREAKING. Damian is arguing with both Tim and Grayson to which Barbara has to try and break it up, Bruce is sat on the couch (not having moved since last night) covering his face as he tries to ponder where it all went wrong, Stephanie is pacing around anxiously, Alfred is trying to repair the window which was supposedly shatterproof but unfortunately ‘shatterproof’ isn’t a concept that exists for the supers, Jason is shrugging and saying “I told you this would happen.” (He didn’t.) and everyone else is scattered about some watching the argument, trying to brainstorm to a silent brooding Bruce or trying to help fix the window.

Eventually they would all have to begin brainstorming on what to do next, how to repair it all and get you to forgive them. Right now is time for panic.

[subliminalwish]

A Blooming Predicament

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Sylus x Reader Summary: Imagine you're a humble flower shop employee, packing up for the night when an unexpected visitor walks through the door, a shock of white that's impossible to miss in the empty shop amid the rose and lilies. Outside, three men walk past to and fro, searching through windows. Looking for something. Someone. CW: reader is not MC, reader is female, mentions of blood & violence, may or may not be unfinished idk A/N: This is a result of me being left alone in an empty office floor surrounded by remnants of Valentine's Day bouquet samplers. Also, has anyone seen the new trailer?? Is everyone ok??

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You don’t usually get many customers this late.

The flower shop is small, tucked between a laundromat and a bookstore that never seems to have any customers. The warm glow from inside spills onto the quiet street, casting soft light against the pavement. Outside, the city hums with its usual late-evening rhythm – cars passing in the distance, the occasional chatter of pedestrians, the faint trill of a siren somewhere far away.

You’re in the middle of wrapping up for the night, tucking away stray stems and sweeping up loose petals when the door opens sharply. The chime above the entrance rings, too loud in the stillness.

The man who walks in doesn’t fit the usual clientele  –  no hesitant romantic fumbling over the right bouquet, no elderly woman looking for something bright for her windowsill, no hurried office worker grabbing a last-minute gift. Instead, he moves like someone who doesn’t expect to be here, like someone who’s made a mistake and walked into the wrong place.

His presence shifts the air immediately, drawing attention without trying. He’s tall, dressed in dark clothes, his black coat moving with him as he steps further inside. The contrast of his sharp features against the white of his hair makes him easy to notice. Even in a city like Linkon, where people know better than to stare, someone like him is impossible to ignore.

The long black coat he wears is left open, the dark fabric shifting as he moves deeper into the shop. He’s breathing heavier than normal, but it’s controlled, as if he’s forcing himself to slow down. He doesn’t look at you right away. His crimson eyes flick over the shelves of flowers, scanning, assessing. Not like a customer deciding between lilies or orchids, but like someone trained to notice the details of a room the second they enter. Like someone used to being hunted.

That’s when you notice the scent – something distinct beneath the smoky leathery notes and faint sweet spice of cologne.

Gunpowder. Blood.

Your fingers still against the counter.

You watch as your patron lingers around in the shop, pointedly avoiding the windows.

Outside, three men pass by. They walk slow, deliberate. Not aimless pedestrians, not curious window shoppers judging from the gleam of their concealed firearms when the coat of the men swishes open a little too wide.

One of them glances through the glass, his gaze sweeping over the rows of carefully arranged flowers before moving on. They don’t stop. Not yet.

It clicks into place.

The man in front of you is running from them.

Your heart thrums in your chest as you continue to count the seconds this man spends in the shop. If they come in here looking for him, there will be a mess. A violent, bloody mess that will get between the shelves of daisies and hydrangeas and cling to the petals like an unwanted stain.

The shelves and displays do little to conceal his height, offering only the illusion of cover. Despite his careful steps away from the windows, he’s still too visible – the men outside wouldn’t need much more than a passing glance to spot him through the glass.

You don’t have time to think.

He’s moving further inside, head tilted slightly as if listening for something beyond the walls. He doesn’t seem like he intends to stay long, a plan already forming behind those crimson eyes. You don’t let him make that choice.

“Looking for something?” Your voice is even, casual, as if you aren’t staring at someone who just came off a chase. “We have all kinds of arrangements for any occasion.”

He doesn’t answer at first, only casting you a glance. His eyes are sharp, too observant for someone pretending to be a regular customer. But he doesn’t ignore you.

You pick up a bouquet from the counter, shifting slightly to block the window’s view of him. “Here. I recommend this one.”

His expression remains unreadable. He doesn’t look at the bouquet.

You don’t have time for this.

“This smells amazing,” you say, raising it slightly toward him. Then, much quieter, you whisper, “Lean down.”

Just enough to disappear. Just enough to be swallowed by the flowers. Just enough to be unseen.

You take a step forward, biting the bullet.

A flicker of something passes through his gaze – is it curiosity, calculation, hesitation? You don’t have time to care. Up close, his gaze feels heavier. You don’t know what he sees in your expression, but he doesn’t walk away.

You hook a finger into the collar of his shirt and tug, just enough to urge him forward.

For a brief moment, his body resists, the tension beneath the fabric undeniable, but then he moves, obeys. His large frame dips lower, his breath warm as he lowers his face toward the flowers. He doesn’t break eye contact, doesn’t let you out of his sight. His scarlet eyes burn, seem to gaze into you.

You’ll never forget their shade of red for as long as you live.

Your finger brushes against his skin, and you fight for your life ignoring the way its heat makes your pulse stutter, ignore the way it makes something in your chest pull tight.

Outside, the men walk past again and you hold your breath. They walk past once more. And then… they move on.

Neither of you move immediately.

The realization is mutual. The danger is gone, for now. But your finger is still hooked in his collar, and his body is still too close, warm beneath the scent of gunpowder and leather.

His gaze lingers, unreadable, before a slow, amused smirk tugs at his lips.

It’s unfair, the effect it has.

You let go.

He straightens, rolling his shoulders slightly, as if shaking off whatever had just passed between you.

"Thank you," he says. His voice is low, gravelly, edged with something unreadable.

Before you can respond, his hand moves – quick, practiced, slipping something into the breast pocket of your uniform.

A feather. Black as ink, soft as silk.

"If you ever find yourself in need of assistance," he says, "call me."

And then, as quickly as he arrived, he’s gone.

The door swings shut, the chime rings again, and the scent of him lingers long after he disappears into the night.

A/N [18.02.2025]: Um, hello again. I was going over my drafts and noticed that I actually published a much earlier version of this chapter! It's only minor and I've corrected this now - I'm so sorry!

[moon-ttokki-x]

relight me - skz x 9th member with ed!reader

pairing: ot8!skz x ed!reader

summary: when a once-strong light burns out, someone must relight it.

genre: idol! au, lots of comfort, angsty. mentions of ed, purging, skipping meals, throwing up, self-consciousness, hypervigilance, mentions of reader having a period (it doesn't happen dw) also . . . i'm well aware the title for reader in this one is a little bit primitive but that's the best way i could describe the fic mbmb

a/n: eat, eat, you EAT <3 div by @seulzitos

"Y/n, come and eat!"

You turn towards your opened bedroom door, looking with mild displeasure at Changbin. He can tell you're not pleased with the interruption.

Setting your pen down and rather fiercely slamming your laptop, you move to the door and attempt to push it shut, only to be blocked by Changbin's firm, solid frame.

"Move," you hiss at him. "Let me work."

He gazes at you coolly, his hair fluffy and messy, large black glasses slipping off the bridge of his nose.

"It's almost half past eight, Y/n. Eat any later than this and you'll feel sluggish in the morning. You've been shut up in your room for too long now. Please?"

You shake your head stubbornly. "Five more minutes."

Changbin actually laughs then. "You said that three hours ago. Take a break."

"No." Your feeble argument does nothing to persuade him. In reality, you'd just been biding your time in your room until everyone went to sleep so you wouldn't have to eat.

His gaze narrows. "I'm gonna tell Chan-hyung if you don't come and eat something. Please don't make me do that. You know how he gets."

You groan so loudly you think the entire dorm hears it. Storming back into your room, you messily reorganize a few papers before grudgingly following Changbin into the dorm kitchen. Your heart pounds harder with every step you take.

Stupid. You really thought no one would notice.

Entering the kitchen, you see most of the boys already seated. Jisung and Jeongin are busy fighting over a piece of fried chicken, Minho and Felix looking on in amusement. Seungmin is on his phone, minding his own business at the end of the table, and Han and Chan are discussing some 3RACHA schedule adjustments for the next week, eating in rather a civilised manner compared to the other members. Hyunjin comes out of the kitchen holding a couple of extra plates, and he sets them down just as Changbin pushes you gently towards the group.

You exhale and sit down next to Felix, who's busy digging his way through a container of noodles. There's been no time lately to cook since schedules have been so busy, and Chan finally gave in when the members pleaded to have takeout for the fifth time after dance practice.

Not you. You disappeared as soon as the practice session ended. You've been so isolated lately that it almost feels strange to be around the members, to watch their antics and listen to their bickering. And normally, being around them would fill you with energy and you would gladly join in, but something inside you tells you to hold back and be quiet. Keep your head down, eat as little as possible, repeat.

Again and again and again.

The thoughts hang heavy in your mind as you're handed a plate. Gulping, you spoon out the smallest possible portion that you can handle without the others noticing the size of it. It's barely half a plate.

"Y/nnie!" Hyunjin calls. "Aren't you gonna eat more? You've been working harder than old man Chan-hyung lately."

Chan lightly slaps the boy upside his head and detaches the piece of fried chicken from within Jeongin and Jisung's shared grip. He lightly chides them and their bickering stops momentarily, hunger taking over pettiness. For the time being, anyway.

Hyunjin has managed to draw everyone's attention to your plate and it's immediately filled with several more portions, the boys chiding you affectionately and heaping more food onto the ceramic. The sight of it makes you want to throw up, and you fight the sudden surge of anger rising in your chest. You want to throw the plate at Hyunjin's face.

But you don't, so you sit and seethe as the boys settle down to eat, munching through sides and conversing cheerily with each other. You feel none of the joy of sharing a good meal with friends; just a cold, dead numbness that makes you feel like a disconnected power plug compared to all the others. You watch them eat platefuls without blinking, without caring, and part of you wishes you could do the same, but it's too much to ask.

Besides, you think, looking down at your plate, it's for the better. Hunger will keep me sharp.

You bite your lip and take tiny, tiny mouthfuls of the food; barely even forkfuls while you try and make up an excuse to leave the table. You could pretend that something urgently needs working on; the new choreo, maybe? No... Minho will force you to sit and eat before you leave.

Or you could say you feel sick, but you don't have a temperature or any physical ailments, and you've been fine since this morning. Not really an option either.

You could also just sit and eat like a normal human being, but the last thing you want is a full stomach, or a stomach with anything in it. And you've already tried purging and it's too messy and loud, so that's out of the question too.

You think about putting on some theatrical display of feeling sick or overtired but you just don't have the energy. And if you get up and just leave, all of them will come and pester you. The last thing you want right now is to talk about it.

Felix nudges you lightly and you almost shoot him a glare, but you reign it in. It's Felix.

"You feeling, okay, Y/n?" He asks quietly, smiling. "You look a little pale."

You thank your stars, and Felix. He's just given you an opportunity to escape. You feign a slow, tired expression.

"Yeah," you say quietly. "I just- I feel a bit sick."

His expression changes to one of affectionate concern and he places a hand over your forehead. "You don't feel warm... maybe it's because you're working too much that you feel sick."

You groan inwardly just as Chan looks your way, checking up. He raises an eyebrow in mild concern and you wince a little, signalling that you want to leave. You feel confident for a minute that he'll let you leave, because he always says yes, understanding that the bickering and noise gets too much for you sometimes. But he just shakes his head and points to your plate, mouthing "Eat.".

He. Shakes. His. Head.

You almost gape and consider getting up anyway, but the prospect of him finding everything out is almost too much to bear. The thought of being exposed makes shame burn through your veins, though it hasn't even happened, and you begin to feel the familiar, heavy inferiority settle in your gut like a teary, reprimanded child.

There's one last, desperate resort.

"I'm going to the bathroom," you murmur to Felix. "I think I got my period."

He nods, and you hope that Chan doesn't call you out as you stand and begin to walk away, every nerve tense. Thankfully, he doesn't, and you make it to your bedroom without trouble, shutting the door heavily behind yourself.

You open the door to the bathroom and immediately step on the scale, just to check that nothing's added itself on. You exhale a sigh of relief at the sight of the numbers decreasing just slightly.

Phew.

You lock the bathroom door and sit on the cold tiles, waiting. You can kill time for a while and then pretend to fall asleep on your bed. No way the boys will tell you off when they find out you just happened to fall asleep due to your consistent early schedules.

You sigh and reach into one of the drawers, pulling out a pad. Ripping the item off of the patterned plastic, you fold the sticky tabs back in and tuck in back in the drawer. You throw the plastic in the bin, making sure to run the tap for a few seconds so it looks like you've put a pad on and washed your hands. Felix uses your bathroom sometimes too because Hyunjin takes so long in their shared one, so you have to keep up the guise of the sudden arrival of a period.

Sighing, you open the bathroom door and are met with Chan. Your heart drops out of your chest and flies out the window entirely.

"C-chan," you stutter feebly, pressing a hand to your chest. "You scared me."

"Sorry," he says quietly. "Felix told me you thought you got your period. Are you feeling okay?"

You nod. He has no idea about what's going on, and the thought makes you feel a sort of twisted pride at the realisation.

"Do you need anything?" he asks. Ever the leader.

You shake your head, risking the next sentence. "I'm gonna lie down for a while, though..."

"Do you want me to bring you something to eat?"

You think before responding, the thoughts flashing through your head quick as lightning. If you say yes, he'll being food and expect the plate to be finished when he comes to collect it from your room. If you say no, he'll get suspicious.

"Yes, please," you say weakly, even though the mere thought of ingesting something makes you want to throw up.

Chan nods and you lie down on the bed, fighting the urge to just spill everything to him. But you can't, so you stay quiet and watch as Chan brings your plate from the table and sets it gently on the bedside.

You expect him to leave, but he doesn't. He sits down on the end of the bed, and your nerves begin to fray a little, feeling irritated that he won't just leave you alone.

If that wasn't enough, you suddenly notice that the faint noises from the members in the kitchen are gone, replaced with a dull, eerie silence. You feel a bit sick until you spot familiar faces lingering near the doorway of your room, their silhouettes visible against the frame of light spilling from the hallway.

"Y/n," Chan says quietly. A cold dread sits in your stomach, chilling you to the stomach. You know exactly what's coming.

"I'm sorry," you blurt out before he can continue.

Chan doesn't even look surprised, and he runs a hand through his hair just as Changbin moves into the room, sitting on the bed next to him. He places a hand on your thigh.

A sinking feeling takes hold of your gut.

They already knew.

Chan starts to talk. "Y/nnie, we know what's been going on. You're not in trouble, okay?"

You groan. "Well, now I feel like I am."

Changbin can't help but chuckle a little, though it's quieter than his usual laugh. "We didn't stop you to begin with because we didn't want you to feel like we were keeping tabs on you."

"And we thought it was something you could handle on your own," Chan adds quietly. "It was wrong of us to stand by and let you do this to yourself."

"We're sorry, Y/n," Hyunjin adds from the doorway. "We thought we were helping by forcing you to eat, but clearly not. And I'm sorry for drawing attention to how much you were eating earlier."

A hot tear spills over the brim and burns a line down the soft skin on your cheek. "Why are you all apologising? I shouldn't have done it, I just felt so low and I couldn't bring myself to eat, and-"

This time it's Jeongin who moves to sit next to you on the bed, and he coos at you lightly, quieting you. "It's okay, Y/n. Most of us know how that feels. But the thing is, you don't have to lie to us. We'll never say anything judgmental to you about it."

You nod tearfully and let Chan stroke your hair lightly, the warmth helping to soothe the storm inside your head.

"Would it help if you could eat alone?" He says quietly. "When most of us were trainees, we weren't used to eating so much in front of others, so most of us ate separately from each other until we felt more confident. Would that help?"

You nod.

"Besides, if you do that," Changbin adds jokingly, "One day, you'll be able to stuff your face like we do."

For the first time in you don't know how long, an involuntary laugh bubbles out of your chest, quite unexpectedly, and for the first time, it feels right.

a/n: no one is allowed to cry on this 9th member fic like last time

[vxnuslogy]

﹙💌﹚ letters hidden in starlight.

                                half your heart, buried in his arms.    ୭౿

⸻ order has been shipped out! to @knnichs who ordered one venus' looking glass + aeipathy, amaranthine, and mellifluous for phainon.

𐔌  warnings: none        ♡     the sender has a message! i feel like i strayed a bit from the prompt so i hope you don't mind it too much zira TT ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!! <3

     ━━━  banner credits. vxnuslogy        ♟         tags. @starcharmed @mikashisus @https-sourlimes @dazaisms @powchakko @pneumosia @gl4di0lus; if you'd like to be tagged please fill out the forms in my pinned post !!

                               🏹 the nameless king, phainon — the chrysos heir was earnest in his ways of showing affections, you on the other hand prefer more subtle—magical—ways to show it.

to say phainon was enamored with you would be an understatement—he was head over heels for you. 

great hero of the chrysos heir, losing all his valor and might the moment he sees you walk in the room with a pretty smile and a few scrolls from the archive. the subject of his yearning—you draw his attention faster than any moth to a flame.

it was almost laughable at how easily he melts at your presence actually. much to mydei’s distraught, he's always the first to witness the snow-haired’s helpless pining; knees buckling and threatening to give out when you compliment his form during sparring sessions, words tumbling and stuttering like a vehement storm crashing against a window, and don't even mention the carnelian river that drowns his cheeks paired with a smile that mydei's sure would shatter his cheekbones.

phainon was hopelessly in love with his archivist.

tribios would argue it was cute with the goldweaver quietly chuckling to herself, hell, even castorice would crack a small knowing smile every now and then. all of phainon’s poor attempts at wooing you always left mydei with a drowning feeling of embarrassment. so many unsent letters filled with poorly written verses, gifts ranging from random to expensive shipped to your doorstep, and not to mention the way he follows you around like a lost puppy when he’s supposed to be working. mydei has had enough.

“oh for the love of titans,” mydei gruffly said, a scowl tugging at his lips as she crossed his arms over his chest.

there sat the man in question, a crooked smile on his lips as he tried to pathetically hide the many pieces of parchment in his room.

“mydei, my friend! what brings you here?” phainon greeted, voice still the same tone when they normally talked but there was a slight shake to it. he’s been caught red-handed—vulnerable in the presence of your love. and he was also neglecting his duties.

mydei only raised a brow and slowly walked into the room. as phainon was busy scrambling and spewing weak excuses, the blonde haired warrior only rolled his eyes and rounded his table.

“wait mydei, don't!”

but it was too late. mydei had already picked up the opened envelope and pulled out the neatly folded letter with a nimble grip (he may be tired of phainon's puppy love, but he was no idiot to handle his things without care). 

mydei feels his lips twitch into a teasing smirk, “well, well, well, who knew you'd have the guts to actually send something so… scandalous.”

the snowy hero flushed to the tips of his ears and quickly snatched the letter from his hands. tucking it inside his coat and coughing into his fist, he avoids the pair of gold eyes dissecting him.

“okay, it may look bad but—”

“why would you start with “to my beloved star whom i look for every night”? what are you, a child?”

“BUT!” 

noticing his outburst, the color on phainon's cheeks deepened in shade. he cleared his throat and adjusted his clothing. tugging his sleeves lower, smoothing out the non-existent creases in his coat, and tugging at the collar at his throat. he suddenly feels too hot in this room.

“ehem,” he starts, “i assure you, it's nothing scandalous. i’m just… following a routine! yes, a routine.”

mydei raised a brow in question—he did not believe phainon's excuse.

with a sigh, his shoulder slumps like a child's. dropping to his chair, he covered his face with his hands and mumbled a string of words mydei didn't catch.

one final click of mydei's tongue, he turned around and made his way to the door. “yes, a routine. of course. it's only natural for you to send love letters to someone who's not even yours. absolutely normal. meeting is at twenty.”

phainon could only muster a small nod and let the door magically close as mydei left. when he's sure mydei was gone, he quietly took out the letter from his coat and quietly threw it in the small pile of unsent letters in the corner of his messy room.

he just sat there, motionless and contemplating, for a while before he picked up a sealed envelope. a seal with an eight pointed star greeted him and phainon is sent to the moon when he sees your name written on the back. you've been using the wax seal he got you, which is good.

“To my dearest, hero.”

four words in and phainon has already stopped reading to quietly collect his bearings. the contents were nothing astonishing—a simple report on your findings with tribios on the mission he sent you. but what he looks for the most is the hidden messages in your seemingly formal message.

phainon does not attend the meeting. instead he waits for dusk to arrive and stars glitter in the sky. he stood up from his chair and lounged by his balcony. letter in hand and watched the letters and words reform itself right before his eyes. 

magical. you're abilities were taken straight out of a fairytale he could've read as a child.

“To my other half, whom I left at home.”

he smiled. so brightly he started to consider that maybe mydei was right about his cheekbones shattering.

for the night, he abandoned his duties as a chrysos heir to indulge in your love. you weren't as open to your affections to the public as him, but this? this was your own way of flirting with him.

“To my other half.”

“My beloved, hero.”

“My dearest, Phainon.”

“To whom I've buried my heart to.”

every salutation, punctuation, and sentence reformed to show your love, it sends phainon into a giddy fit. in your presence, he's taken back to the times where he would waste gazing at you longing from the palace sparring grounds.

“To the hero who's captured my heart.”

“My star, how I miss your presence.”

the way your cheeks would flush whenever he caught your stare, scramble to pick up the papers flying out of your hands when you bumped into each other, and when you smiled so brightly when he showed up to the archives with a bouquet and a poorly written letter.

“My heart.”

“My deliverance.”

you were shy with your affection, but they were undying.

© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.

[nemo-writes]

𝗮𝗯𝘀𝗼𝗹𝘂𝘁𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗺𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 I chapter ten

(dr. jack abbot x nurse!reader)

⤿ chapter summary: time passes without a whisper of danger—yet your nerves remain coiled, the calm louder than any threat, and even the smallest unraveling leaves you raw. and then—a reminder. a sweet and scruffy one.

⤿ warning(s): discussion of medical procedures, medical inaccuracies

⟡ story masterlist ; previous I next

✦ word count: 1.7k

Night settles over The Pitt—still damp from the days-long storm, but humming with the restless energy that always spikes when day hands off to graveyard. You and Jack step from his truck into a crisp mist, the hospital’s glass façade beading with rain that looks silver under the loading-bay floodlights. New security lamps flare along the sidewalk—Gloria’s latest decree—and a pair of guards linger at the doors, radios murmuring.

Inside the vestibule, you barely have time to swipe your badge before Margot’s unmistakable laugh echoes off the tile. She’s striding out with Bob at her side, keys jingling on his belt loop. They both slow when they spot you. Margot’s smile goes soft around the edges, the charge nurse façade slipping just a hair.

“Look who decided to grace the night shift with her presence,” she teases, but her eyes rake you head to toe—inventorying. Bob lifts the insulated tote he’s carrying, waggles it like contraband.

“You didn’t think we’d let you start a shift without pre-approved carbs, did you?” he says. The tote is clearly stuffed with fresh clothes, some snacks, and your favorite thermos. 

You accept with heat prickling your eyes. “Thank you guys. For the other stuff too.”

“No problem,” Bob says. He steps close, dipping his voice. “You doing okay?”

You expected the question, will expect it a dozen more times before dawn, but gratitude still stirs. “Hour by hour,” you answer. “Tonight feels…manageable.”

Margot hooks her arm through Bob’s, visibly relieved. “Good. Because we left a stack of elbow-deep charting for your meticulous little heart.”

Jack snorts behind you. “Translation: Ellis kept things imploding, but she’s threatening to duct-tape Shen to the inventory closet.”

Margot laughs, reaches out, and squeezes your forearm, her thumb pressing reassurance into your sleeve. “Call if you need anything—security code or emotional rescue.” Then she tips her chin at Jack. “And you—don’t let her do all the lifting.”

He lifts a hand in casual salute. “Roger that.”

With a final wave, the two of them disappear into the night, headed toward the staff lot where morning routines and normal sleep still exist. You watch them go until the door hisses shut, muffling the outside world.

Jack turns, clinks his badge against yours like a toast. “Ready?”

You draw a breath—clean antiseptic, distant coffee, the ever-present ozone tingle of the sterilizers. The hall ahead is bright and chilled, monitors already chiming in their peculiar midnight harmony. Security cameras pivot softly overhead, tracing every angle.

“Ready,” you say, and together you step past the threshold—back into fluorescent light, controlled chaos, and the shifting constellation of night-shift hearts that are already orbiting, waiting for your steady gravity to settle them.

. . .

The first night back feels like wearing stiff boots over half-healed blisters—every step deliberate, the pinch of memory always there. You track every clipboard, double-lock every med cart, and tense when a pager shrieks too close to your ear.

Yet nothing happens.

By the second week you’re still cataloging every unfamiliar face, but you’re also teasing a new nurse when he mislabels a drain and walking a med-student through a central-line checklist without your voice wobbling. The scanner Ramirez installed on the staff entrance clicks each time you badge in, a small mechanical reminder that the perimeter is tighter now. You and Jack trade five-minute hand-offs at the clean-utility alcove—his shoulder bump, your muttered “hydrate”—and the shift rolls on.

Weeks braid into a measured rhythm. 

By November, the south wing glows with early holiday lights and the trauma corridor carries a faint, persistent whiff of pumpkin-spiced coffee. You’ve also reclaimed your “midnight Bento” ritual—onigiri for Parker, hot miso for Shen—while Jack complains there’s still no chili oil. 

That same week Gloria corners you outside Sterile Core, her heels clicking a decisive cadence. She’s carrying a color-coded staffing matrix and a look that means business. “Security metrics have held thirty days,” she says, flipping to a highlighted column. “If you’re ready, I’m clearing you for day shift—and your old surgical slot. We’ll keep the enhanced badge checks, but the board trusts the system.”

You swallow, nod, and realize your pulse doesn’t spike at the prospect—only hums with something like anticipation.

And just like that, Veterans Day circles the calendar, and with it comes Jack’s rare PTO request: one personal day to breathe outside hospital walls, visit the memorial, recalibrate. On the eve of it, the shift starts hot and only climbs.

By mid-morning you and Ellis are juggling a dehisced abdominal wound when a flustered volunteer wheels in a couple clutching a gasping toddler. Triage tags them for you—shortness of breath, fever, no documented vaccines. The boy’s ribs see-saw with each breath; his O₂ reads 86. You hustle him onto oxygen while Ellis pages Respiratory, but the parents block the door, insisting the pulse‐ox is “rigged.”

“We keep our kid clean,” the father snaps, arms folded like a blockade of plaid. “No toxins.”

“Toxins are what he’s choking on right now,” you answer, trying to slip a thermometer past the mother’s swatting hand. The toddler wheezes, small fingers scrabbling for your scrub pocket. Two techs arrive with a nebulizer; the mother accuses them of “pharma poisoning.” 

Your patience thread frays. Security hovers outside at the ready.

Ellis finally edges the parents into the hallway by sheer force of Latin terminology, leaving you and the RT inside with the wheezing boy. You press the mask to his face, voice dropped to a lullaby, while through the cracked curtain you hear the father call Ellis “brainwashed.” 

By the time the parents cave in (at the last minute) and the the kid’s sats climb to 94, sweat slicks your spine. Security is also quick to escort the parents to registration; they leave paperwork crumpled, still muttering “government numbers.”

Ellis hands the child off to Pedi ICU, all while adrenaline jitters your wrists, and you return to find the med cart disassembled by a float nurse who wanted “just in case” morphine. It feels like one long violation—the parents’ disbelief, the cart chaos, the weight of fixing what should never have broken.

So you focus on rebuilding the drawers, alphabetical dividers snapping into place a little too hard, each click an exorcism. It’s in this raw, ragged pocket of the day that Jack appears in the med alcove to remind you again of his veterans-day absence.

“Hey,” he says gently. “Quick reminder—tomorrow I’m off. Ramirez and Parker know to be on—”

“Jack, I know,” you snap, vial tray clattering as you shove it home. “You’ve told me three times already. I’m not a stray left at the pound.” Your heart hammers; embarrassment floods in behind the anger but can’t dam the tears springing hot to your lashes. “I’ll be fine. You don’t have to hover just because I’m today’s damsel-in-distress.”

The sudden silence swells; the fridge hums. Jack’s gaze flicks to the re-ordered drawers, traces the tension coiled in your shoulders.

“I know you’re not fragile,” he says, voice even but warm. “I just care where my foxhole partner is standing.”

“That’s the problem,” you bite back, pulse still hammering from the parents’ tirade. “You’re always gauging my location like I’m a breach in the hull. I don’t need a minder every time you leave the building.”

He exhales through his nose—patience fraying—but keeps calm. “Listen—”

Your laugh cracks like brittle glass. “Spare me the pep talk. I’m holding by dental floss, and you hovering makes me feel like I’m seconds from splintering.”

Jack’s jaw tightens. He looks both ways, then curls two fingers into your scrub sleeve and steers you toward an empty bay. The curtain snaps shut behind you.

“Jack—”

“Quiet.” His voice is low, trembling with its own edge. “You just fought conspiracy parents while rebuilding a med cart like it’s Jenga. You skipped lunch and tore up your cuticles until they bled. I’m not hovering out of guilt—I’m hovering because I watched you hit the floor once and I’m not scheduling an encore.”

You open your mouth, fury and embarrassment tangling. “Stop making this about you feeling heroic. I will survive one day without—”

“That’s not what this is.” He steps closer, heat rolling off him. “You want proof?”

Before you can snarl another word he cups your face—hands firm but reverent—and kisses you, full and unhesitating. His stubble scrapes your skin in a rough, almost electric drag that somehow feels exactly right, grounding fury into something warmer. The shock blazes through anger, through exhaustion, until only the thunder of two heartbeats and antiseptic-scented air remain. His thumbs keep stroking your cheekbones, as if re-anchoring every fracturing part.

He pulls back just far enough to speak, breath ragged. “That is why I need to know where my foxhole partner stands. Not to monitor—” another kiss, softer, “—but to come stand there with her.”

This is months of unspoken wanting distilled into a single, wordless confession. His hands frame your face as if he’s chiseling truth into stone, and every press of lips says I love you, I love you, I love you without needing breath or syllables.

Tears cool on your cheeks, but they carry no fear—only the stunned relief of mysteries solved. “Fine,” you whisper, voice ragged but sure. “Go honor your day. I’ll hold the line.”

Jack’s answering smile is small, fierce, eyes shining with everything the kiss already said. 

“It’s been a long time since we claimed the roof,” he murmurs, voice husky from the confession that just burned across your lips. “Maybe we trade the foxhole for a bird’s-eye again. Day after I’m back—and after your first day shift—I’ll be up there at change-over like we used to. Deal?”

Something expansive blooms in your chest, bigger than relief, sharper than hope. You answer by wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him so fiercely he rocks on his heels.

“Deal,” you breathe against his collar. “Rooftop. After day shift. Tea included.”

He chuckles, warm and certain, and presses a final kiss to your cheek before slipping away at the shouted call of his name, the curtain whispering closed behind him. You let your lungs fill at last—still bent, still bone-weary, but no longer so tightly woven. When you push the curtain aside and step back into the buzzing corridor, the feeling of that stubbled kiss settles over your heart like fresh-forged armor, bright enough to carry you through the rest of this night—and all the way up to the rooftop tomorrow.

divider credit

[5htpa]

The true widow

Natasha Romanoff x f!reader

summary : Natasha discovers that she can put her walls down, she doesn't have to be an avenger all the time and she can actually trust people to not harm her.

Natasha grew up in a place no child should ever have to go through, no person - no animal - should go through but she had to. Every time you tried to think about even going through the same things she did it made you sick to your stomach. You also hated the fact she couldn't have kids because you have spoken about it a few times, you could tell she wanted kids but she wouldn't get that option.

You were sitting in your bed that you shared with Natasha, half of your body was under the covers while your back was propped up so you could read your book properly. You had your glasses on but there was no point in wearing them since the book was so close to your face - you got to interested and didn't even notice - but you kept them on. There was a warm light that casted shadows into the room due to the curtains as the sun was finally setting after a long day.

You spent most of the day cleaning and doing laundry, you wasn't forced into it - it's more of a comfort thing - but it makes you feel useful and it's better than Nat coming home and worrying about the laundry and dishes so it helps her a lot. The rest of the day you spent making cookies and reading your book, you were reading the Percy Jackson books since you wanted to know more about Greek mythology.

You were so into your book that you hadn't noticed the red head enter the house, you should have noticed because she slammed the door, but your book had basically put you into a different mindset and world. She huffed as her bags dropped off her shoulders and took her leather jacket off. Her feet moved against the floorboards and into the kitchen, she grabbed a beer from the fridge and opened it with a bottle opener, she then walked towards the living room where you was sitting.

She sat next to you and took a swing of her beer, she admired your love for books but it also annoyed her when she didn't get your attention. She scooted closer to you, "Hi honey." You said just above a whisper, "Just let me finish this chapter." She sighed.

"I had a bad day. reminded me off the red room." You moved your head to look at her, your book suddenly not become your priority - Natasha was now your priority - "I had some witch, she manipulated my brain." You put the book down and moved closer to her, you put your hand onto hers carefully in case she didn't want to be touched.

She held onto your hand, "You okay?" She nodded and smirked slightly, her face said she was fine but her eyes spoke a different story, "Tasha." She shrugged.

"I'm fine." It seemed like she trying to convince herself more than you, "Really detka, I'm okay." She wrapped her arm around your shoulders so than you could rest your head on her shoulder and you did without a complaint.

She smelt like fumes but also her normal warm vanilla perfume, It was insane on how she always smelt like it even after being in fights for hours, "Wanna watch a movie?" You asked, your finger drawing circles on her shirt.

Her body tensed up when your hand moved down to her stomach, like you were holding a gun to her head - but she wouldn't even be worried about that - "You okay?" She nodded, you lifted your head up and watched her face.

She chewed the inside of her mouth slightly and she was still tensed up, you moved your hand away but she didn't change, "Talia." That name made her look at you, Your hands slowly moved to her face to cup her cheeks. Your thumbs slowly moved over her skin to comfort her, "I'm not going to hurt you." You looked her in the eyes, her green eyes started to water, "Your safe, your safe, okay?" She nodded.

You left a soft kiss on her forehead, "Don't worry, you can be the little spoon tonight." She just chuckled and nodded, You rested your head back on her shoulder and your hand travelled down her body again to trace over the scar on her stomach.

"I love you." Her voice was soft, not like her normal tone. She meant it, in a way that she knew she was safe - that you loved her back.

A smile appeared on your face, "I love you." The rest of the evening was you two watching the new YOU episodes and arguing over how joe was a 'cutie' in your words.

[slytherinshua]

✦　HEAVEN'S ALREADY IN MY ARMS　( 박지훈 )

genre fluff , established relationship , park jihoon x fem!reader   cw kissing   wc 780   request no   note a couple of people were asking for more jihoon fics and i wanted to repost this to my main (originally written for my f1 blog) so i hope you enjoy!!   net @kstrucknet @daydreamnet

The lights had dimmed and almost all the guests had already left the party. The few left were lingering on the sides of the room, too drunk to notice the lovesick couple still swaying slowly in the middle of the dance floor, hands never leaving each other's bodies.

Jihoon’s palms rested on your waist gently but firmly, like he would never let you go, but was also too afraid to hold on too tightly. You had your arms on his shoulders, hands clasped together behind his neck, keeping him close.

You were soaking in every moment of tonight as the first day you were reunited with Jihoon after weeks. You’d missed him more than you cared to admit, but he was beyond adamant with how much he had missed you. In every glance, touch, and smile you could feel the warmth behind them. Jihoon acted as if you had hung the stars in the sky just for him, and tonight, he would do anything you wanted.

He wasn’t much of a dancer now after being off the stage for a while, and it normally took more than one man’s persistence to get him up from his seat during a party. But with you, he found himself being the first one to ask you to dance. The party went by all too fast, or maybe the time was blurred with the glasses of alcohol you both downed. 

Now nearing the end of it, he wished he could pause the moment and have unrushed time to admire you in all your perfect beauty. Your fancy dress that you wore just for him. Makeup done to perfection, drawing his eyes from your eyes to your cheeks to your tempting lips, and then back up to your eyes again. Jihoon could barely wrap his head around how you managed to look this pretty, much less how you were really truly all his.

It was almost too good to be true.

But it was true, and Jihoon could feel it in the grounding nature of your touch on the skin of his neck, or the twinkle in your eyes as you looked at him, or the adoring smile that graced your lips. Somehow, he was the cause of it all.

“I don’t want this moment to end,” he whispered, entranced by you completely as you guided him through the mindless motions of the slow dance. It was bliss. No one to interrupt or observe the private moment. No one to disturb the perfection in your gaze.

“Then don’t let it,” you replied easily, as if you had all the answers to every question Jihoon could ponder upon. 

“I don’t know how I got so lucky with you,” Jihoon breathed, letting your hands pull his face closer to you until his forehead rested against yours.

“I think you’d rather be luckier to ever get rid of me,” you teased, and Jihoon smiled knowingly. 

After being attached at the hip for your entire childhood, it would’ve been more shocking to everyone if you ever decided to date someone other than each other. He was always a part of your life, always the centre of your world. The busy and hectic schedules of idol life and filming dramas were as familiar to him as they were to you, even though you had never tried your hand at it. But you watched him from the beginning, cheering him on as he achieved his dreams and reached for greater highs. Through all the success and failures, you were always there beside him. And it felt right. Jihoon couldn’t imagine his life any different.  

Jihoon didn’t consider himself a particularly patient man. He was willing to wait when he needed to, but when there was something he wanted right in front of him, he wasn’t going to hold back. So it wasn’t surprising when he leant up to kiss you like he had never known patience in his life, but you melted into him without a second to spare. His lips moving against yours resembled your dance the entire night. It was messy and uncoordinated at times, but it came from undeniable devotion, and that was all you could feel spilling from his plush lips. He loved you with everything he had and there was nothing more earnest than that. 

And when you pulled back from the kiss, giggling as you tried to wipe the smudge of lipstick that had gotten on his lips, Jihoon felt like he was on cloud nine. So consumed by his love for you that he was sure he could float up to heaven any second. Or maybe he was already there. Maybe this was what heaven felt like.  

misc taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @wolfmoonmusic,, @candewlsy,, @blossominghunnie,, @cosmicwintr,, @seunghancore,, @emmylksblog,, @bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @chenleszone,, @cupidslovearrows,, @hursheys,, @loserlvrss,, @lexeees,, @cupidslovearrows

[siri-ike]

Gut feeling: Bad Ending

Bruce stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. He could have sworn he didn't need a stepstool before. He ran his hands over his naked scalp, his fingers along the two, long, surgical scars. Starting just behind each ear and curving all the way up to his temples. The stitches were coarse and sharp, but it didn't hurt.

A soft tumbling sound caught his attention. Frostbite fell into the bathtub. "You're brand new. You don't need a bath." He giggled, scooping his friend up and pretending to towel him off.

His ears perked up at the sound of the door to his room opening and footsteps entering the room. "Come on, dad promised to bring snacks."

His room was so boring and white, and not getting to leave it is a stupid rule. Just 'cause he could "get sick and die" or "horribly injure himself" due to his "impaired motor skills" and "partially exposed cranium." Bunch'a babies.

"You're not my dad." He accused.

"And you're not supposed to be out of bed." An old woman entered his room. "My name is Doctor Leslie Tompkins. Would you mind answering a few questions for me?"

The name sounded familiar, but he'd much rather his dad say if she's safe or not. "What kind of questions?" He tightened his grip on Frostbite.

"I would also like to run a few tests." She said as she pulled cards out of her bag. "I'll grade you if you like."

Ha! He's not gonna fall for that.

She gave him a look, "First I want you to write your name-"

"I know how to write my own name!" He defended. One day, he won't fall for that. Annoyed, he climbed into the bed and pulled out the tray table. Without an ounce of effort, he wrote his signature on one of the blank cards.

Danny F.

...

Danny F?

Who the hell is Danny?

He turned the card around and tried again.

Danny F.

Both look exactly the same. Like it was a practiced signature. But he'd never seen it before.

His name isn't Danny, it's... it's uh, drrr? Brrr. Baron? Boris? Bruce! His name's Bruce! Ofcorse it is.

He pulled another index card from the stack. This time slowly writing out the name Bruce Wayne. But, it's wrong. That's not his signature. It's sloppy and looks like any other word. The other one had personality. This one just looks like any other word. He tried a few more times until Leslie interrupted with a different test.

Drawing a clock, arranging pictures into a story, and pointing out objects in a picture was easy. But then she asked questions about his past. Names of places and people. He's lived in Gotham his whole life. There's no Casper high here! There's no Sam and Tucker! And there certainly isn't a portal to hell in his basement!

He's thinking clearer than ever, so why is he still full of shit?!

Dan- Bruce kicked at the table, and it swung back to the wall.

"I trust you'll want to handle this." Leslie exited the room and Nightwing entered.

His eyes lit up, "dad -" the exitement drained away, and he slumped back down with realization. "Are... you?"

Nightwing took a deep breath. "No... I'm sorry."

Who was this guy? Just some imposter who somehow looked exactly like his dad? Or was it the same person? Has he just been pretending the whole time? No, no, that can't be. This has to be some trick. Of course, his dad's real! He's just pretending! Bruce glanced over to his signatures all over the floor. He's just pretending.

"But," Nightwing drew his attention. "I could be. If you want me to." He put his hand on his back. "But I might not be your best option." He joked, unsuccessfully.

"What's, what's your name?" He no longer spoke in Bruce's cadence.

Nightwing sat down on the bed next to "??" the boy. "My name is Dick." He whispered, careful not to let the doctor on the other side of the glass hear. Leslie and Duke (Currently dressed as "vague medical staff") were watching, but so was some random resident. "But in this outfit, I'm Nightwing." Normal volume this time

Without missing a beat. "Is that like, your Glam Rock alter ego?" That had to be Danny because it couldn't be Bruce.

Dick couldn't help but giggle. Not even laugh, giggle, like a child. "It's something like that."

He looked so satisfied with the reaction he'd garnered. "Why'd you let me think you were my dad?"

"You had enough to deal with. We considered plenty of potential outcomes, and in most of them, we found that letting you believe what you wanted was for the best." Nightwing slid his hand from the child's (he looked like he could be around 10 now) back down his arm and held his hand. He looked to the floor, covered in index cards, and gestured to the other to do the same.

"Bruce" hesitated to acknowledge the papers.

"It's ok. You can ask when you're ready." It's the right thing to say. Dick knows it. He checked. He prepared. But making the best choices in a bad situation doesn't guarantee a good outcome. And those sad little eyes looked so much like all his brothers when they were little. So small. In need. "But we'll need to call you something." He tried. "Maybe you could pick a, "Glam Rock" name, too."

He smiled brightly at the prompt. The game. Getting to pretend. He could be like his dad. It should be something similar. Little wing? Night- uh- feather?. He proudly announced, "Phantom." No, that's not-

"Ooh, spooky." Praised Nightwing.

Yeah, it's perfect.

[meyoolii]

Tsukishima Kei's 18+ Alphabet <3

a/n: hello this is my first time posting on tumblr!! so if you read this and enjoy it pls lmk (also give me tips!) but uhh i plan on doing this for most characters bc i like doing these lol. But i hope you enjoy this!!

Warnings: smut obvi, timeskip!Tsukishima kei. male/female reader bc i feel he swings both ways.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

I feel that Tsukishima, no matter if he's topping or bottoming, will put your needs before his after sex. Get you a warm towel to clean yourself up or if he's not too tired he'll draw you both a bath, get water, again if he's not too tired he'll also change the bed sheets.

But after all that he'll fall asleep very quickly.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On him I feel he loves his hands not even just for volleyball purposes. But how his long fingers know how to pleasure you. He doesn't have to try hard to find your sweet-spot. But on a sweeter note he loves his hand because his hands get to hold you.

On you, your neck. He loves how you react when his long fingers wrap around it so easily. The way you tremble when he presses soft kisses on your neck or when he places hickeys to show that your his. Or how pretty your neck looks with the necklace he bought you with the letter 'K' on it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I like to think that he's very safe especially if he's with a women. He doesn't want to get someone pregnant on accident if it's something he can control. So i feel he has a pretty good pull out game but also has condoms on him.

(fem reader): He loves to have you cum on his fingers, just the thought that he makes you feel soo good with just his fingers.

(male reader) He loves when you cum down his throat (secretly wants you to cum on his glasses but he'd never admit that).

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Has jerked off to the thought of you, him, and yamaguchi having a threesome. Not even just because he thinks yamaguchi is adorable but he's the only person he really trusts THAT much y'know. He Loves you taking control even if he's being a brat the entire time.

Or like i said in the last letter if you're a male he gets off to the thought of you cumming on his face and glasses..

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I don't think he's experienced before he met you, most of his knowledge is from porn which isn't the best teacher. But you were definitely his first. The first time is a little awkward but after a couple times and you helping him he figures out how to make you feel so good.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary & reverse cowgirl (he can't choose) Missionary because he loves being able to see your face and being able to mark and wrap his fingers around your neck. But he does have days were you do most of the work due to how tired he is so thats were the reverse cowgirl comes in. He loves watching your ass bounce when you drop back down colliding with his hips.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He's definitely serious except when you react Just how he wants you to his teasing which will get a cocky giggle out of him.

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they?)

He's groomed not even just for you but for him, he hates his pubes being long, it so uncomfortable for him.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Very intimate, he wants to make sure that you know he loves you even after all of his teasing. From leaving trails of kisses up your body to just him telling you how much he loves you and how much you mean to him while finishing, he makes sure you know you mean the world to him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn't normally jack off by himself anymore but before you both had a sexual relationship it was pretty regular. But now most of his masturbation is done while he watches you and you watch him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Marking. He hates it when he catches someone looking too long so. if you have a couple hickies or bites on you neck/collar bone he'll feel more secure (not that he thinks you're a cheater)

overstimulation. He feels that if you aren't trembling he didn't do a good enough job

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

In your house it doesn't matter where in your shared home just as long as no one could see or hear you. He doesn't want anyone else’ eyes to witness how perfect you are for him and him alone.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When you tease him he loses control or when you wear his clothes he fears he wont be able to hold back.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Weird role-plays things like ddlg or step sibling stuff freaks him out. He wouldn't do anything like that.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Likes to give more but definitely wont pass up the chance to get head. However he's dangerously good with his tongue it makes you wonder how he was a virgin before you.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on his mood or how sex started. If he's frustrated or feeling jealous it's fast and rough he needs to you to feel his emotion on each thrust. But if he or you need comfort its very sensual. Tsukishima is never really slow unless he's feeling like a tease.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Doesn't mind quickies but definitely prefers for you two to have longer rounds and so he can make sure that you feel as much euphoria as you can.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Depends what the risk is he doesn't want people to possibly catch you both but if it's trying a new toy or kink he's fine with taking the risk.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

last's a while even with foreplay. He can go 2-3 rounds depending on the day. If he's tired 2 rounds at most, but on the days he more energetic expect more rounds typically 3 though.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He has a toy collection for both you and him, Vibratiors, cock rings, dildos, straps even. he owns at least one of each. Mainly uses them on you but he does enjoy getting pegged from time to time so you guys own a strap.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He teases no matter if he's on top or bottom. Always has something to say even if he's moaning like a whore.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Again depends if he topping or bottoming

Bottoming: sooo many whines and moans coming from his mouth.

topping: Low grunts with a few moans mixed in.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Had a pretty bad porn addiction in highschool but not just videos but audios, stories as well.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Soft i'd say about 4.5in Hard i'd say 5.5in but definitely a little on the girthier side.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He doesn't need it all the time and there are days where he doesn't need it at all so i'd say 3-4 times a week will satisfy him.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Like I mentioned in aftercare he falls asleep after you both are cleaned up.

[dollfacefantasy]

im shaking begging on my hands on knees pls if that’s okay and you’re comfortable with it could you cook some tongue sucking and spit play with Leon like absolutely sloppy messy nasty 🤲🤲🤲🤲🤲🤲

it was a mistake telling leon that you'd never been kissed.

you'd been going out with the d.s.o agent for a few weeks now, and last friday night on another one of your dates you let that little not-so-fun fact about you slip. in your defense, you were a bit tipsy, and the buzz of alcohol dulled the points on your decision making skills.

"wait really?" he'd asked after a small laugh. he leaned forward, forearms pressing down on the white table cloth. "never been kissed? not even once?"

"well... one time sorta in third grade. but i don't count that," you amended.

that only made his smile wider. "wow, i thought you were cute before, sweetheart, but this just takes it to another level," he chuckled.

you felt your cheeks starting to burn, realizing that you may have made a mistake in disclosing this part of your past. it wasn't like you were totally innocent or something. you'd just never found someone you felt deserved to experience your lips against theirs.

he didn't continue to mock though. he just shook his head and eyed you over the brim of his glass.

"i'll have to change that then," he said.

that night as he dropped you at your apartment he acted on his words. before letting you leave the proximity of his car, he guided you close and pecked your lips. something soft and sweet. intimate but simple. your first real kiss.

it would be far from the last if he had anything to say about it though.

tonight he came over to your place to spend some time with you before an upcoming mission. the two of you laid on the couch, bodies intertwined. he had you tucked to his chest as a movie played on the tv in the background. his eyes stayed on you though.

his fingers ran down your cheek along the curve of your jaw. you could feel him staring and finally gave in, turning your head to smile at him.

"what?" you said with a small laugh.

"nothing," he replied, "am i not allowed to admire you?"

he leaned in and pressed his lips to your cheekbone. one soft kiss landed on your skin and then another and another until his mouth reached your neck.

you giggled softly and squirmed beside him. he grinned against your throat, not letting up on his affection. his hand squeezed your waist. you felt his tongue slide out and glide across your pulse point before his lips latched on again.

"you know, baby... i've been thinking about kissing you again ever since last friday," he breathed.

"really?" you whispered in return.

"mhm. couldn't get you out of my head. even more than normal," he said, "those lips are just so soft and sweet. one kiss wasn't enough."

he began moving back up, cresting his lips over your chin to below your bottom lip.

"it wasn't enough for me either," you agreed, getting the words out while you still could.

in seconds, his lips landed on yours. this kiss was deeper than the last, more sensual and full of intention. he suckled on your bottom lip, scraping his teeth against the plush skin. his nose bumped yours. you could feel the soft puffs of his breaths on your face.

"of course it wasn't. that was just your first taste. it's only natural you'd want more," he murmured between smooches, "but i'm gonna give it to you. make up for all that time you went without."

his mouth connected with yours in full again, drawing a quiet moan from you. your fingers ran through his blonde tresses. he shuddered at the feeling of your fingers raking over his scalp.

it was weird. kissing him felt effortless and like something you needed to be conscious of at the same time. you melted into his movements and let him guide you, but you also thought about every detail from how much you were responding to the tender sighs slipping from your lips.

your breath hitched when you felt the tip of his tongue drag across the seam of your mouth. you didn't really know what to do, so you just went with your first instinct and parted your lips slightly.

"that's it, honey, let me in," he cooed before sliding the wet muscle into your mouth.

that got a louder sound out of you. he cupped your cheek and worked it in, swirling it with your own. the kisses got messier now. your head spun with the bliss of being so wrapped up in him.

he sucked at your tongue, and your legs squirmed in response. you didn't expect it to feel so nice. it was almost soothing in a way, to have him so intensely focused on you. the hand that wasn't on your cheek squeezed your hip, teasing at his want for more.

when he finally pulled away, a smile broke out on his face.

"look at you," he crooned, "you liked that, didn't you?"

all you could do was nod while staring up at him. your eyes were blown out with lust, your chest heaving with the same emotion.

his thumb came up to your wet bottom lip. the pad of it stroked back and forth, pressing down and opening your mouth a little. so cute.

"messy girl," he purred.

and then, without warning, he gathered some spit at the front of his mouth and parted his lips to let it fall into yours.

your body lit on fire at the sight and sensation. you felt the liquid hit your tongue and slide towards your throat. a soft moan made its way out of you before you lazily swatted at his arm.

"leon!" you whined, sticking out your lip into a pout, "ew."

he laughed at the simple reaction before ducking down to swap more spit with you. he kissed you deep and hard, twirling his tongue through your mouth languidly.

"that'll be the least 'ew' thing i do to you before tonight's over," he teased before sweeping you up in another passionate exchange.

[yushi-ni]

ෆ MAEDA RIKU ෆ 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ masterlist

summary; make out sessions with bf riku

genre; no full on swexc time but definitely some steamy smooches!!

warnings; mentions of; uhh handsy riku, hair pulling, reader having smooth hip movements and marking? 18+ (?) free to read for everyone, but just to make clear it contains some mature content. so you have been warned hihi

notes; hiii loves here is the riku version!!! i miss our cute, bubbly riku and i genuinely hope he is doing well. ☹️ so for all my riku lovers out there, this one is LONG i decided to not just jump straight into the 'making out' part but also include some cute - sweet shared types of kisses with bf riku as well. but umm yes, i did not proofread the actual 'scenario' part so i hope it all came together well enough!!! as always, feedback or any other interaction with my work is always appreciated!!! thank you to everyone who showed love for my sion post!!! i am so glad you liked it, yushi one coming soon too. sending hugs to all my riku moots!!!! HOPE YOU ENJOY!!!

──୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ──

riku's type of kisses

✿ riku is all for the soft, lingering, meaningful kisses. his heart is as big as his pretty doe eyes are and growing up with sisters and a loving mom in his life, he learned how to treat and care for people (especially women) with respect and kindness. most of the time, making out with riku is just pure and sweet love. no rushing or sloppy - gasping for air kind of things. he takes his time with you. he just wants you to feel loved and cared for. his lips are always soft and warm as they move in a perfect motion with yours. smiles into the kiss as his whole body just vibrates with a rush of love and affection for you. (unlike sion) riku doesn't mind kissing without his tongue down your throat at all times. he enjoys the romantic and intimate feeling of your lips on his without fighting each other in your mouth.

✿ huge on; hello, goodmorning, goodnight, thank you, goodbye, coming back from the kitchen as he just went to get a glass of water but he was away from you for 1 minute etc etc etc kind of kisses. basically always finds a reason to put his lips on yours (or your cheeks or forehead) whenever he is with you. there is nothing he loves more than waking up next to you and giving you a goodmorning kiss. cannot start his day without it and would literally risk being late if that means he can get his little kiss. at days he needs to be up early for schedules, he just gives you a quick peck as he doesn't want you to be deprived of your extra sleeping time. definitely the type to steal a lot of small kisses here and there even if you don't notice it. like him silently getting ready as he is rushing to get out of the door on time. but not before he gives you a kiss on your forehead, as he brushes your hair out of your face, looking down at you sound asleep, smiling to himself while he thinks to himself how lucky he is to have you. loves stealing kisses as it feels like his own little way to say 'ily'.

✿ definitely not afraid to kiss you in more public settings . not one to hold back just because his friends are around. won't put on a whole show for others to see, also to respect the people who are with you, but he just simply can't keep his hands (read; lips) off of you. his hands always finding their way to your hips as he holds you close. fingers resting right above your waistband as he draws small circles on your skin. when it's just the two of you, he can get very handsy when he gets really into it. feeling up and down your figure, he is almost desperate to feel every inch of your body. softly moans into the kiss, brain foggy as his eyes are closed shut, taking in the sweet taste of your lips.

ᡣ𐭩 loves when you put your hands in his hair. playing with the soft strands of hair as you push the back of his head to deepen the kiss. doesn't just make out to take it to the bed room afterwards, can go from having a normal conversation about his day - to small kisses leading to a long lips locked kiss - back to soft spoken riku telling you about some date ideas he has for the two of you on his next day off.

make outs with bf riku

✿ at the moments he does yearn for more; your usual cute bf makes way for a more dominant - quick paced riku. definitely more of a boobs guy than ass. (also appreciates the wonders of your behind but he just loves holding your boobs when you make out) it's easy to tell when he needs to release his stress and build up tension. trying to clear his mind and get his frustration out, he gets a lot rougher than usual. he won't ever push it too far, just desperate for a release of his stressful day. hands slipping under your shirt as he gets a hold on your boobs. knows your weak spots like a blind person and absolutely loves the sounds leaving your mouth whenever you both get more worked up.

✿ literally can't have you close enough. picks you up from whatever position or place you are at to carry you to the bedroom. not because he is so desperate to get into your pants but even when lust takes over him; he still longs for a more romantic setting and he also simply loves the comfort of making out in your bed. leaning against the headboard, he cannot hide the tingling sensation rushing through his whole body as you straddle his lap.

✿ not one to get too 'aggresive' but the way your breath hitches when he pulls your hair in the act has his eyes rolling to the back of his head. riku is definitely a vocal player, not afraid to let the sounds of his moaning leave his mouth as he gets completely hooked up in the moment. the type to whisper 'ily' against your lips, he just can't help himself. he gets so immersed in the way he is just drunk on your lips, the whole world around him just doesn't exist anymore. head spinning as his hunger for you just grows with the second. you can tell by the way his hands start to get more busy on your body he is eager for more.

✿ will leave hickeys all over your body, especially loves marking you up in spots only he can see. bites your lip as he pulls away from you just a tiny bit, biggest smirk on his face as he feels your hot breath against his lips. your reactions are what keeps him going. soft whimpers, moans or full on love confessions (in absolute riku style) he almost sees it as a sport to get you to moan into the kiss. the type to change the pace to keep you from going too fast. just LOVES your lips and will do anything to stretch out the whole moment to make love with your lips as long as possible.

ෆ(˶˘ ³˘(´͈ ᵕ `͈˶)ෆ 🧚🏼🫧☁️✨ ᯓ★

you and riku have been dating for quite a while now. as his career as an idol is taking off in full swing, your relationship has definitely changed over the last months. you knew that your time together would change as his agenda got more and more busy. spending a lot of time apart, your weekly dates have gone from fun outdoor activities and amazing dinners in the most coziest restaurants to routinely having at home movie nights or even just spending quality time with each other as you are both cuddled up in bed, legs tangled together as you just silently enjoyed your boyfriends company while laying in each others arms.

today was no different, having pushed back your date night a couple days later because of your boyfriends overseas schedules, you were finally able to get some much needed time together. his members decided to go to the movie theater to watch the new anime that came out but riku who was visibly tired from his hectic work week wanted nothing more than spend his free time with you, just holding you close to him as you were always able to get him to forget about his busy daily life. and now that everyone was out, he invited you over to the dorms. settling for a simple but cozy movie night on the couch, you were laying in between your boyfriends legs, back pressed into his chest as he was leaning back on the couch. a warm blanket spread over your bodies as the second part of twilight was playing on the big screen. only a few minutes into the second one, you finished the first part not too long ago. you only exchanged a couple words in the past two hours ever since you pressed play for the movie to start. riku, noticeably quieter than usual, played with your hands as he was trying to keep his attention to the screen. resting his cheek on the side of your head, he got a whiff of your scent. pushing his head deeper into your hair, he put his arms around your chest so he was now hugging your body from behind. smiling at your bfs gesture you put your your hands on top of his as you pressed a little kiss on the arms holding you in place.

riku finally felt a bit more energized as he always says your presence just recharges him no matter how sleep deprived or exhausted he is. "i don't get what's so special about the girl for the two guys to fight over her" your bf said as he let out a big sigh. "they are in love, you don't always have control over who you fall in love with" you replied as you changed positions to lay more on your side. your boyfriend freeing you from his grip lifts up the blanket to give you some space to move a bit more freely. with one arm now loosely draped around your waist, he takes the other to intertwine his hand with yours; "mmh well then i am glad whoever controls my love senses, made me fall in love with you" riku says as he brings your intertwined hands up to his mouth as he gives you a small kiss on the back of your hand. "yeah.." you over exaggeratingly sighed out; "i always hoped for an edward cullen bf but i guess you will do as well" you couldn't help but giggle as you heard the instant sound of absolute disbelief come out of your boyfriends mouth, not believing his ears; "i'm joking baby" you said, laughing as you looked up at his face. as he looks at you with big eyes and mouth slightly open, you turn your back so your upper body is now pressed on top of his as you give him a little kiss; "i very much love my sweet sweet boyfriend" you said before pressing another kiss on his lips.

slightly dumbfounded, he laughed as he put his hand that was previously resting on your waist up to the back of your head, pulling you back in to lock your lips with his again in a short but sweet kiss. "so you would choose me over that edward guy??" riku asked as his eyes glance at the screen again. "ohhh wow wow woah!" you said, now completely sitting up straight, once again startling your bf with your sudden movements; "calm down now maeda, i love you but we are talking about edward cullen right now" you said in a playful tone as you dramatically put your hand over your heart. "you would leave me for a vampire dude?!!" riku asked, voice more high pitched than he intended to, mirroring the same gesture as he grabbed the fabric of his shirt on the left side of his chest, "my gf who i love so dearly would just replace me for a centuries old guy? what does he have that i don't? except for his immortality" you laughed at your boyfriend, turning your whole body to face him completely you put both of your legs on each side of his body as you straddle his lap. putting one of your hands on his chest to support yourself in the movement, you use the other one to take his hand, that was still holding onto his shirt for dear life and you placed it on top of your leg.

riku, adjusting his posture, puts his hands on both of your thighs as he softly caresses the skin. "well, immortality does sound like a fun idea ngl" you said, "but what are you supposed to do if you live forever, wouldn't it be boring at some point?" riku shrugs his shoulders; "idk i don't think i would get bored if that means i would be able to spend all my time with you" you couldn't help but laugh at the way your boyfriend puffes his cheeks and looks at your through his long eyelashes, looking slightly embarrassed by his own sudden confession; "immortality is a long time, i think you would even get bored me after a while"

"would never get tired of you" riku says as he squeezes your thighs with his hands; "matter of fact, i would gladly spend the rest of my forever with you" he bit his lip as he was trying to suppress the smirk plastering on his face. "mmh..is that so?" you said, putting your hands up to the back of his head, automatically scooting closer to lean over his body; "that sounds very tempting." you smiled as you leaned closer, closing the gap between the two of you as you pressed your lips on riku's. naturally moving your lips in an almost perfect motion, your hand goes to the side of his face as you cup his cheek. the kiss was full of love and affection. his lips, soft and warm as always keep a steady pace as his arms find their way to your hips. slightly pushing up your shirt to rest his hands on the skin right above the line of your waistband. squeezing the soft skin, his grip on your body tightens as he pulls back only a little bit to catch his breath. only pulls back far enough to feel your warm breath on his lips as his chest is already pumping heavily. a mixture of adrenaline and his bursting love for you rushing through his body as he only now realizes how much he actually missed you.

not wasting any time, riku crashes his lips back on yours and he can't help the way his kisses are speeding up. he is trying to savor every single second while at the same time knowing that he won't be able to make up for the time you spent apart. you can feel your bf growing impatient and needy as his kisses get a bit sloppy. your usual sweet and gentle riku was starting to get a bit forceful, his hands having a firm grip on your hips as he held you in place. your own hands in his hair, you took a handful of the soft strands of hair, resulting in your bf softly humming through the kiss. the sound sent a vibration through your body as you reacted with a similar sound leaving your mouth. riku, who loves hearing your whimpers, pulls you closer so your body is fully pressed into his chest. leaning forward a tiny bit, your bf threw his head back to lean on the couch as yours was hanging over his. leaning down to keep your lips locked together. your body weight was now on your knees, giving your boyfriend full access to move his hands to your butt. caressing your ass through your shorts, you let out a little gasp as you feel riku's big hands strongly holding you in place. taking this moment he slid his tongue into your mouth. his tongue was quick to find yours, moving in a circling motion, you both couldn't help the wet sounds coming from your lips.

as you pull back to gasp for air, riku has a fair view of your exposed neck now. almost instantly focusing his full attention on your neck as his hands start to massage your ass in a firm way. with the feeling of his lips making his way down to the nape of your neck, you couldn't help the sigh leaving your lips as you say your boyfriends name in a little more than a whisper. riku, almost immediately effected by the sound of his name leaving your mouth, hums against your skin as he works his way back up to push his lips back on yours. setting a quick but steady pace, he moves his tongue with yours in an almost perfect rhythm. you can feel your lips getting numbed by the pressure riku puts as his own are plump and tinteling with sensation. wanting to feel more of you, you feel your bf slightly tugging at the hem of your shirt. getting the hint, you pull away as you pull your shirt over your head in one singular motion, leaving you in just your shorts and top. riku, who was catching his breath for a second, brushed his hands through his hair as you threw your hoodie to the side. smiling down at your bf, you tilt your head as you say; "your turn" biting his lip as he couldn't help the smug smile on his face, he pulled his own shirt over his head, exposing his toned upper body.

grabbing you by the chin, he pulls you back in. head empty, you naturally go with it as your hands feel up and down his toned chest. you couldn't lie about the fact that you loved his trained body. almost foaming at the mouth just by the thought of his naked upper body, you press your own chest against his. crossing your arms behind his head, locking your boyfriend in your grip, you can't help the sudden urge to take over the lead in the heat of the moment. shortly fighting for dominance, riku let's you take your leap as he just completely converts himself into your arms. his hands finding their way back to your ass, go up to the waistband of your shorts to just slightly pull down the fabric a bit. just enough to give him some more free skin to get his hands on without fully exposing your whole butt. upon the feeling of his large hands on your skin, you let out a satisfying sigh in pleasure to which your boyfriends grip only tightened. letting you take your moment of 'dominance' with your lips still busy and locked in a steamy kiss, he smirked against your lips by the fact he still had the overhand of you.

not giving in to your boyfriends tactics, you rolled your hips onto his lower abdomen in a very hard way. riku, feeling an immediate sensation growing in his lower body, couldn't help but moan into the kiss. this time it was your turn to smirk against his lips as you rolled your hips against his again. pulling away to throw his head back against the headrest, he let out another soft moan as a new wave of strong heat rushed through his body as you moved your hips forward in a steady motion. "..ahh..fuck y/n.." you let out an almost innocent giggle, in contradiction of what you were currently doing, that almost sends your bf over the edge as he could feel the bulge in his pants growing. leaning down, you brush your lips over his, pulling back as riku stretches his neck in an attempt to kiss you. whining by your sudden action, he threw his head back again, trying his best to not lose his mind by how amazing your grinding movements felt. taking your boyfriends face you pull him back to lock your lips in a very slow and gentle kiss, not even close to the previous almost sloppy kiss you guys shared. as your lips move in a passionate and intimate manner, your kiss turned into a more soft lingering touch. your hips almost air brushed over riku's still clothed lower body when suddenly he took a strong grip on your ass as he pushed your hips down, while he thrusted up to push his now hard bulge onto your own already throbbing private parts. taken by surprise, you moan loudly as your boyfriend pushes down your hips again.

desperate to release some of the burning and growing friction you start moving your hips in a quicker pace. riku, helping you steadying yourself as the feeling of his hard erection was getting harder and harder to handle, thrusting up to get a better angle of your throbbing core against his hard member. as you were both moving your lower bodies together, brain completely foggy by the intense pleasure rushing through your body, you felt the knot in your stomach growing stronger. deep moans coming from riku's mouth, he was clearly in the same position as you. desperate for a release but not wanting the moment to end yet. you slowed down your moves but this time rolled your hips into his, in a way it had riku seeing literal stars. grabbing your hips, he was just about to flip you guys over not being able to take it any longer, when you heard the sound of keys jingling in the door.

almost jumping a meter up on the spot, riku pushed you off of him as he put his shirt back on in the speed of light. you reached for the blanket you tossed aside earlier, hurriedly pulling it over your bodies as you tried to catch your breath. upon hearing his members walk through the door riku quickly brushed his hands through his hair in an attempt to fix the wild, loose strands as a result of your busy hands just seconds before. trying to steady his own breathing, the maknaes made their way into the living room. quickly greeting their hyung and you as they ran to their shared room, not even batching an eye towards your direction as they were too excited to play on their switch together. jaehee, almost immediately making his way to the bathroom didn't second guess what you were up to, as he just wanted to wash up and change into his comfy clothes. yushi and sion, being the last to enter the dorms, walked into the living room where you were trying your best to look like nothing happened. upon entering sion is quick to chuckle as he greets the two of you. yushi, following his hyung, not aware of the tension in the room asked; "what are you doing?" as he pursed his lips in his signature face expression. "nothing much, just watching a movie" riku says as he brushes through his hair again, trying to look relaxed and chill. "niceu" yushi says as he doesn't foretell the actual scene. he spins around on his feet as he makes his way to the kitchen. riku, unable to look his hyung in the eyes, excessively follows yushi's movements as he walks away. sion laughs as he looks from you two - to the tv screen - to your tossed away hoodie on the floor - back to you guys. "mmm yeah nice movie, i like this one" he says as he looks at the both of you with a playful grin on his face. as he turns around, he looks at the tv screen again, letting out a chuckle as he makes his way to join yushi in the kitchen.

both you and riku follow his gaze as you turn your head to the screen that says; 'are you still watching? yes - no'

so caught up in each other you didn't even realize the movie stopped playing. eyes wide, you couldn't help the hitched breath you let out. "aaah..omg.." your bf sighed out in disbelief, "..that's awkward.." he let out a sigh as he put his hands over his mouth to muffle his soft nervous cries. "nooo it's ok, i don't even think any of them had any idea!!!" you said in an attempt to calm down your boyfriend; "don't you think sion would have said something if he knew??" you both looked up by the sound of the kitchen door opening again as sion walks out, making his way to his own room when he turns around and says; "by the way, y/n, not to be a stick in the mud but i would cover up your neck before one of the kids see it" chuckling at the way both you and riku's eyes go wide, he closes the door to his room. leaving you two alone again. not knowing how quick you had to jump up to grab your hoodie from the floor, you made a mental note to yourself to never kiss, hug or even slightly look at your bf again in his dorms with the risk of someone else being home too. as you sat down next to riku again, you let out a big sigh you didn't even realize you were holding in.

you leaned back, sitting shoulder to shoulder with your boyfriend as he looks up at you; "..baby.." you meet his gaze as he stared into your eyes with mischievous look on his face. "yeah?" riku took your hand and pulled it under the blanket, placing it on top of his still throbbing erection in his pants; "..please?" he says as he over exaggeratingly bats his eyelashes at you. "riku!!!!" you gasped as you hit his chest. riku lets out a laugh; "ok, ok, ok!! I'll do it myself!!!!" he stands up and pulls the blanket that was covering your bodies, along with him. tying it around his middle, he leans down to give you a quick kiss; "i love you" before you could even look up or reply, he rushed his way to the bathroom.

[bear-yawns]

　𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗩𝗘𝗡'𝗦 𝗔𝗟𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗬 𝗜𝗡 𝗠𝗬 𝗔𝗥𝗠𝗦.　yuki tsunoda · #22

genres : fluff ... established relationship ... yuki x fem!reader.　request : anon for yuki + leaning their foreheads against one another’s for the 100 event　word count : 0.8k.　warnings : again they're really in love like too much probably they're obsessed with each other ... not proofread.　 note : more yuki yayyy told you i would feed with yuki fics and here i am to deliver!!!　　　( masterlist )　( taglist )

The lights had dimmed and almost all the guests had already left the party. The few left were lingering on the sides of the room, too drunk to notice the lovesick couple still swaying slowly in the middle of the dance floor, hands never leaving each other's bodies.

Yuki’s palms rested on your waist gently but firmly, like he would never let you go, but was also too afraid to hold on too tightly. You had your arms on his shoulders, hands clasped together behind his neck, keeping him close.

You were soaking in every moment of tonight as the first day you were reunited with Yuki after weeks. You’d missed him more than you cared to admit, but he was beyond adamant with how much he had missed you. In every glance, touch, and smile you could feel the warmth behind them. Yuki acted as if you had hung the stars in the sky just for him, and tonight, he would do anything you wanted.

He wasn’t much of a dancer, and it normally took more than one man’s persistence to get him up from his seat during a party. But with you, he found himself being the first one to ask you to dance. The party went by all too fast, or maybe the time was blurred with the glasses of alcohol you both downed. 

Now nearing the end of it, he wished he could pause the moment and have unrushed time to admire you in all your perfect beauty. Your fancy dress that you wore just for him. Makeup done to perfection, drawing his eyes from your eyes to your cheeks to your tempting lips, and then back up to your eyes again. Yuki could barely wrap his head around how you managed to look this pretty, much less how you were really truly all his.

It was almost too good to be true.

But it was true, and Yuki could feel it in the grounding nature of your touch on the skin of his neck, or the twinkle in your eyes as you looked at him, or the adoring smile that graced your lips. Somehow, he was the cause of it all.

“I don’t want this moment to end,” he whispered, entranced by you completely as you guided him through the mindless motions of the slow dance. It was bliss. No one to interrupt or observe the private moment. No one to disturb the perfection in your gaze.

“Then don’t let it,” you replied easily, as if you had all the answers to every question Yuki could ponder upon. 

“I don’t know how I got so lucky with you,” Yuki breathed, letting your hands pull his face closer to you until his forehead rested against yours.

“I think you’d rather be luckier to ever get rid of me,” you teased, and Yuki smiled knowingly. 

After being attached at the hip for your entire childhood, it would’ve been more shocking to everyone if you ever decided to date someone other than each other. He was always a part of your life, always the centre of your world. The busy and hectic schedules of races were as familiar to him as they were to you, even though you had never tried your hand at racing. But you watched him from the beginning, cheering him on as he achieved his dreams and reached for greater highs. Through all the success and failures, you were always there beside him. And it felt right. Yuki couldn’t imagine his life any different.  

Yuki didn’t consider himself a particularly patient man. He was willing to wait when he needed to, but when there was something he wanted right in front of him, he wasn’t going to hold back. So it wasn’t surprising when he leant up to kiss you like he had never known patience in his life, but you melted into him without a second to spare. His lips moving against yours resembled your dance the entire night. It was messy and uncoordinated at times, but it came from undeniable devotion, and that was all you could feel spilling from his plush lips. He loved you with everything he had and there was nothing more earnest than that. 

And when you pulled back from the kiss, giggling as you tried to wipe the smudge of lipstick that had gotten on his lips, Yuki felt like he was on cloud nine. So consumed by his love for you that he was sure he could float up to heaven any second. Or maybe he was already there. Maybe this was what heaven felt like.  

yuki taglist: @lxvemaze