#I hope someone understood this without the tags

[yum-grass]

Googled the cps phone number to ask them to come and take me away but I’m dyslexic and so now I’m stuck in a bedroom like cell labeled pending/Euclid wtf

[kquil]

REMUS LUPIN | TEMPER

sum. : remus is usually a grump, as dismal as a cloudy day and you're his sunshine, whether he accepts it or not -- he denies it vehemently until his sensitive nerves make him lash out the day of a full moon

length : 2.2k

tags. : grumpy remus ; sunshine reader ; opposites attract ; angst with a happy ending ; remus is a meanie ; reader is stubborn ; a little ooc remus lupin ; fluff ; angst

navi. | more remus lupin

Remus thinks you’re strange. He didn’t know of you until you made yourself known to him, wearing the brightest smile he had ever seen on a person. It was like the sun breaking through a stubborn wall of clouds on an otherwise dismal day. He wasn’t usually the extroverted type, especially with Sirius, James and Peter as his best mates so he was surprised that someone like him managed to catch your eye.  

He was perfectly fine with being a silent presence in his close group of friends, appreciating them for their companionship despite knowing of his ‘furry little problem’. He hardly interacted with others outside his small group and preferred it that way. So when you suddenly appeared before him, he didn’t know what to do with you. 

You had a horrible preference for appearing whenever he was reading in the library – something he enjoyed for academic and recreational purposes. James, Sirius and Peter never understood his fondness for reading so left him alone whenever he simply wanted to read. He was more than comfortable with having only himself for company until you started sitting with him. That was how you first got to know each other or, rather, how you made him your ‘friend’ but not by choice. 

“What are you reading there?” your chirpy voice cuts through the silence that first day. Hoping you weren’t talking to him, Remus ignored you and, instead, brought his book closer to shield his face. “Hello?~” you sang softly after a beat of silence and he could hear the smile in your words. Finally, Remus looks up but only spares you a brief once-over. He was being rude, yes, but so were you for interrupting his reading. Remus also couldn’t stand seeing your bright and sunny gaze for longer than he’d be willing to stare directly at the sun. He’s half convinced he’d burn himself if he looked at you too long.

“Frankenstein,” he answers quietly, hoping you’d leave soon enough… but that was wishful thinking on his part. 

“Oh! A muggle book? That’s pretty cool.” there’s a pause after Remus gives an acknowledging grunt but nothing more. Please go away!  He remembers pleading to himself as he tried to find where he last left off – you were too distracting, “May I sit with you?” Remus goes to give you a judging look but you’re already sitting in the seat across from him when he looks up. He glares at your happy disposition, unaffected by his obvious disapproval, much to his irritation. His annoyance flares sharply as he emits a low growl from deep within his chest but there’s no response from you. You’re as immovable as a mountain. He has no choice but to accept his fate and does his best to ignore you in favour of reading. 

However, in doing so, he had deeply underestimated how determined you were to disturb his peace. 

From his periphery, he sees you pausing in your own reading to stare blatantly at him from across the table. Your first few attempts were, somewhat, sneaky but, over time, you eventually gave in to an obnoxious stare. Remus felt like he couldn’t turn a single page without you eyeing his long fingers. Your eyes peek out from over your book and Remus has to fight himself to keep from getting lost in your curious, twinkling eyes. 

“What do you want?” he snaps agitated and suppressing the horrible urge to grind his teeth menacingly at you. A disguised effort to resist your infuriating charms. Someone this annoyingly persistent shouldn’t be so adorable. 

“Sorry, I umm…. I just wanted to know what your Frankenstein book was about…”

You were polite and sweet with the decency to appear, somewhat, ashamed of your behaviour —it was very cute— but that only seemed to rile Remus up even more, “Read it yourself.” he snaps again and continues reading. 

He doesn’t feel bad for snapping at you, which is why he avoids your gaze entirely. In his efforts, he manages to make more progress with reading and doesn’t realise how much time has gone by until the ache in his neck makes him look up and see you asleep atop the table. Rolling his eyes, Remus packs his things and leaves you to return to Gryffindor Tower — he’s not a babysitter so he shouldn’t feel guilty and he shouldn’t look back. But he does alert the librarian about your presence so that she gets you up instead. 

Remus doesn’t see you until a few days later when you happen upon him in the library and disturb his peace once again. When he looks up this time, however, his eyes manage to linger on your smile before you direct his attention to a copy of Frankenstein in your hand. It makes him raise a brown in silent question. 

“I got the book to read as you suggested,” you ramble on more than is necessary. At least your voice isn’t super annoying, it’s actually quite nice to listen to, “I haven’t read much yet but it’s really good so far. It’s not like anything I’ve ever read before. You have a really good taste in books,” by this point, Remus has already buried his attention back into the pages of his current book and tries to zone you out with only minimal success, “May I sit with you?” that question immediately catches his attention and he almost snaps his neck in half, looking up to firmly reject your attempts. 

“No–!” but he was too late as you were already sitting down and smiling innocently from your seat across the table. He frowns deeply and sighs loudly, making his annoyance obvious but you’re unbothered and already have your book open. His eyes narrow, perplexed at how someone can act so brazenly. He notices the stray hair that falls out of place, the slight crookedness of your collar, the focus in your eyes, the softness of your skin and the gentle curve of your face… You’re so annoying! “What edition do you have?” he suddenly asks, his voice rough and disinterested as if he couldn’t care less whether you answered him or not. He wasn’t interested at all; he just needed to desperately put an end to his earlier train of thought. Hopefully, your response would irk him again and he could return to being rightfully irritated by you. 

“Oh um…” you flick to the very first page of the book, “I have the 1818 edition, why?” you’re smiling sweetly and he scoffs, turning his head away. His ears had become a bright pink beneath his hair. 

“No reason…” The two of you return to reading your individual books while Remus hopes you don’t register the subconscious hum of approval he let out. He’s only happy you’re reading the original, unrevised version. 

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

The two of you have become an unusual pair that is often seen around Hogwarts. Many have criticised you for always trailing behind the tall Gryffindor, and despite his cold, impartial disposition towards you, Remus is the first to put an end to such ‘annoying’ talk. 

“Stop talking about things you hardly know anything about,” he would often use his tall height to glare down at those same, clueless people, demeaning them further. And, although that should have been the end of it, many persisted to the point where James, Sirius, and Peter also stepped in when neither of you were around to defend your unusual pairing. 

“Thank you, Remus,” you would chirp at him but receive no response in return. It was odd that, despite his cold shoulder, you persisted. Always wanting to be his friend, always smiling so easily, always greeting him with a friendly tone. It didn’t make sense to him. 

Deep down, Remus wants to keep you. He thinks you are adorable; you are a shining light to a monster like him, and he knows he doesn’t deserve it. Whenever you stand particularly close to him, he savours the warmth you radiate. And whenever you talk, no matter if it is nonsense, he always listens, even if he pretends to ignore you by doing something else entirely. He keeps you at a distance but also wants you close at the same time – he was confusing even himself! 

He was grateful for your consistency, however. Grateful until the week of the full moon. 

You are consistent, and that was something Remus always appreciated about you. But it has become Remus’ main point of irritation for the past few days. Everywhere he looked, you were there, smiling brightly as always, but his sensitive nerves have grown intolerant of you; as soon as he sees you approach, he turns away and hurriedly escapes your company. It scares him to feel so genuinely irritated by you that he doesn’t dare lash out. In the beginning of his friendship with the Marauders, he had lashed out at them too, but their determination for a close bond kept them together. He knows how persistent you can be, but losing you is a thought that makes his blood run cold and leaves an awful taste in his mouth, worse than any potion. 

True to your character, however, you manage to corner him after three days of avoidance, the day the full moon would finally appear in the night sky. It was only a matter of time, but why today of all days? 

“You have the worst timing…” Remus mutters to himself as you innocently tilt your head in question. Usually, as perceptive as he is, Remus would have answered your silent question by now, but he remains silent. The still pause stretches on between you, and Remus uses it as the perfect opportunity to turn away and begin walking off. However, you are adamant about not letting him leave and hug his arm to anchor him down — this is the closest the two of you have ever been. Although Remus never raised a hand at you, his violent flinch to escape your touch makes your heart stop. “Don’t. Touch. Me!” he growls lowly through clenched teeth, his expression making you freeze up. 

“I-I just…” Under his intimidating gaze, you deflate and confess honestly. “I missed you…I haven’t seen you in three days, and you’re my friend. I was really worried. Did I do something wrong?—” 

“If I walk away, then that means I don’t want you anywhere near me!” Remus glares coldly at you, his face crumpled into one that completely replaces his once gentle features. He is unrecognisable. “Leave me alone!” With that, he turns and leaves, a boulder in his stomach and a bitter taste in his mouth, with the still silence ringing in his ears. He needs to get a hold of himself; he can’t believe he lashed out at you like that. Hopefully, you will leave him alone from now on, at least until after he has recovered from his transformation. 

Remus was halfway down the hall when the silence was finally broken by a soft sniffle and a suppressed whimper. He stops completely in his tracks. He dreads turning around, frozen in place in his fear that he had made you cry. The soft footfalls that follow as you walk away prompt him to turn and rush to you, desperate to correct his mistake. 

“I’m sorry!” he shouts, his heart thundering in his chest as he runs to you. It isn’t until he sees your heartbroken expression and the tears falling from your eyes that he drops to his knees and hugs you around the waist, burying his face in your stomach as he repeats his apology over and over. It is overdramatic, in hindsight, but in the moment, he can’t think of any other way to keep you from completely turning away from him. His lycanthropy has taken so many things away from him, and now he is about to lose the one thing he would fall apart without. “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean it. Please forgive me, love,” 

Never before had you heard such affection in Remus’ words than in that moment. You don’t know what compelled him to be so incredibly mean, but his softened, pleading eyes, as he looks up from where he presses his cheek against your torso, have your knees weakening. 

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Ever since that day, Remus was found to be always trailing after you, always touching you and eagerly leaning down to hear you better. He loves peering intimately into your beautiful eyes and getting to smell your sweet fragrance. He now insists that you sit in his lap every time you join him to read in the library together. Feeling you close and getting the chance to hold you in his arms is an addictive feeling that Remus will never tire of. 

“Let me carry that for you, love,” Remus’ soft whisper has you hypnotically handing over your books as heat rises up your neck, “I’ll take you to class, today,”

“You walk me to class every day, Rem,” you giggle and smile as he presses a kiss to your temple and nuzzles your crown affectionately. 

“What about it?” there isn’t a trace of malice in his voice, only warmth. 

“Nothing~” he doesn’t let you go easily. Before you begin walking to class, he holds your chin and tilts it up ever so slightly, guiding your lips to meet his own in a soft kiss. 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” his loving eyes and soft words make you melt. You’ve never had a more perfect morning.

“Good morning, Rem,” 

navi. | more remus lupin

a/n : this is dedicated to my darling friend @cheriiepies who's birthday is new years! i hope you enjoy this short imagine/oneshot, my lovely! i just hope i managed to include everything you wanted to me to include. and HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVE! I hope you're surrounded by all the love and happiness you deserve on your special day!

[i-messed-up-big-time]

Lonely Birthday - Caleb

Caleb x Non Mc/Reader

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

a/n: ok this is my longest fic yet (can you tell he's my fav), chat i think i cooked with this one. this will be the last part in my lonely birthday series, i really hope you guys enjoyed it!!

Tags: angst, happy ending, female pronouns, reader is not MC, female pronouns, cursing, reader is childhood friends w/ caleb and MC, MC is a bit of a spoiled brat here (pls dkm), this is set in a timeline where there are no evols and caleb does not die in an explosion, this one acc has a backstory in comparison to the other parts I wrote, just cause jumping right into it with caleb just didnt feel right without a proper backstory, use of pet names (sadly he's not calling you pip-squeak in this one but he does call you baby), mentions of self harm (nothing happens its just a thought that passes), lmk if i missed smth

word count: 5.3k

masterlist

Xavier Rafayel Zayne Sylus

taglist: @rcvcgers

You were always overshadowed by her, from childhood to adulthood.

To make matters worse, your birthdays were only a couple of days apart, yours coming before hers, because they were so close together your birthdays were always celebrated with her on her birthday.

It was like killing two birds with one stone. Every time you complained about wanting to celebrate your birthday on your actual date you were told it would be unfair for MC.

Your own family favoured her more than you, sometimes you wondered whether they even considered you their daughter at all.

But then there was Caleb. Him and MC were inseparable when you first met her, always there whenever you two hung out. Eventually, you got close to him as well and began to hang outside of your meet ups with MC.

He always made you feel like you were your own person, not a shadow of someone else.

Maybe that's why you fell for him.

Over the course of your childhood leading into your teenage years you were head over heels for him. Anyone could see it was obvious, and to certain people it bothered them, and you never noticed it until it was too late.

●・○・●・○・●・

Despite being the same age as MC, there was one thing you had that she didn't. You were far smarter than those your age, that gave you the ability to skip ahead a couple of grades so that you were at a level that was more to your capabilities.

But your brain could only get you so far in certain circumstances.

You were in the same class as Caleb, so naturally you ended up being closer to him than you were before. It also made admiring him much more easier.

But nothing was ever easy for you. All throughout your school years MC would always barge in on your study time with Caleb, always needing help with her assignments.

Normally, it wouldn't be a problem if it was a one off thing, but anytime you were over at their place to study with Caleb, it became a tutoring session for MC. It was even more annoying when she would constantly brush off your help, only wanting Caleb to help her.

"I don't understand it when you explain it. You're always using difficult words."

MC whined whenever you would offer to help, and each time Caleb would laugh and ruffle her hair.

"It's okay pip-squeak, I'll explain it in simpler terms."

Whenever he would say that, you could feel a pang in your chest.

It was during that time you and MC started to drift apart. You never really understood until that day.

●・○・●・○・●・

The day before graduation you finally chalked up the courage to confess to Caleb, and to your surprise he had accepted.

You had anticipated a rejection, knowing that he was busy with prepping to go to Skyhaven to attend the DAA, and unfortunately a lot of his free time was spent with MC.

He had always been protective of her, he also extended that to you as well. Although the way he treated you was different than the way he treated her.

The fleeting glances, the lingering touches, the nights he would spend with you when things were bad. How could you not fall for a man who cared for you like that.

You thought it was just your delusions that there was something between the two of you, but him accepting your confession made those delusions become reality.

●・○・●・○・●・

Everyone found you guys to be an unexpected couple, they always expected Caleb to be with MC with how good their chemistry was, but he viewed her simply as his little sister. One that he was a little too protective of but you never found that to be a sense of insecurity.

Or so you thought.

You and Caleb had been dating for almost 4 years now. It was a bit rough with both of you pursuing your academics and not having much time to spend together, but you guys always made it work.

Sometimes Caleb would bail on your dates because something came up with his studies, and you believed him. Who knew it was because someone felt a little jealous of you guys spending time together.

You had never realized that the dates Caleb bailed were because someone back in Linkon wanted attention, and who better to ask than Caleb!

You and MC and drifted apart, and after your graduation you barely ever saw her unless you were home for the holidays with Caleb. You chose to be the bigger person whenever she tried to monopolize Caleb's time, knowing he saw you more often than her, you let it slide.

Although, deep down it bothered you that she would always try to be the sole focus of his attention or when you guys went out on a date she just so happened to be there too, turning it into a group hangout where you felt like the third wheel.

Crazy right? Being a third wheel in your own relationship, guess you could cross that off on your bingo card.

It was your birthday tomorrow, you and Caleb had planned a nice day in with him cooking your favourites and then baking a cake together. Both of your schedules had finally managed to align and you guys had a week off, so you planned on crashing at his place for some much needed quality time.

With it being your final year, you guys were buried in back to back assignments and exams, the stress was high. Having the week off let you guys finally have a moment to breathe.

You packed your bags for the week before making your way over to Caleb's place, it wasn't too far of a drive. You made a quick stop at the grocery store, grabbing your favourite snacks and some groceries so you can make him some food while you're at his place.

By the time you got to Caleb's place the sun was just starting to set. You walked into his place, unlocking it with the spare keys he gave you.

It was quiet in his home.

"Hmm seems like Caleb isn't back from his classes yet."

You thought out loud. Putting away your stuff in his room you made your way to the kitchen, wanting to cook Caleb some dinner.

Like magic, as soon as you were done adding the finishing touches to dinner, Caleb walked in.

"Hi baby, it smells good in here."

Caleb greeted you, coming closer to place a kiss on your lips.

You quickly sent him away to go wash up while you set the table. Dinner was nice and peaceful, it was moments like these that made you feel happy. No distractions, just you and Caleb.

You guys spent most of dinner just catching up about all the stuff that happened while you guys were apart. Caleb insisted on cleaning up since you had cooked dinner, so you were sitting on the counter next to the sink as he washed the dishes.

You chatted away mindlessly, he listened with a smile on his face, throwing in a response here and there.

Once he was done, you were about to jump off the counter when Caleb slotted himself between your legs, hands coming to rest on your hips.

You immediately went quiet, the mood shifting to something more intimate. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against yours, nuzzling your nose with his.

You guys stayed in that position for a little bit, enjoying the moment. The rest of the evening was spent with you guys just lounging around and catching up.

As you were getting ready for bed you could feel your stomach drop with anxiety for no reason, you brushed it off as just your nerves about sharing the same bed with Caleb after a while.

You shouldn't have brushed it off.

You got changed into one of his t-shirts and got into bed, Caleb slid in not too long after, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you in closer to his chest.

“Goodnight.”

He said as he placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“Goodnight.”

You replied back, snuggling closer into his chest.

●・○・●・○・●・

It was around 4 am when you woke up to feeling an empty bed next to you.

It’s still warm, Caleb must have just gotten up.

You got out of bed to go look for him. The moment you stepped out the your room you spotted him in the living room dressed to go outside.

The alarm bells in your head were going off.

“Hey, where are you going this late at night?”

It was just a simple question, one that didn’t warrant the reaction you were about to receive.

“Out.”

Caleb replied in an oddly cold tone.

What’s with that tone?

“Okay, but that’s not what I asked. Where are you going?”

You asked again, something in your gut was telling you that you were not going to like the answer.

Caleb sighed out in frustration before replying.

“MC called and needed me, so I’m going to Linkon right now. You know how she gets.”

Normally you wouldn’t say anything, but this was supposed to be your time with Caleb, no distractions.

“Why do you always go at the drop of a hat whenever she calls? You’re supposed to be spending time with me, not running to her whenever something doesn’t go her way.”

Years of frustration were finally bubbling to the surface, you didn’t want it to come out but you had to set your boundaries.

“It’s not fair to me as your girlfriend if you keep putting her above me.”

Your voiced raised a bit as you spoke, you didn’t mean for it to but having to constantly deal with MC barging in on your time with Caleb, whether she knew he was with you or not, was beyond irritating.

“I’m not putting her above you, she just requires a bit more care and attention than you do.”

That did it, if you weren’t mad before you definitely were now.

“Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s exactly as I said it. MC always feels insecure, even more so when you skipped grades and left her alone. I can’t just ignore her when she calls me asking for help.”

Every explanation that came out of his mouth had you seeing red, you weren’t gonna back down either.

“Don’t you dare try to pin this on me? Just because we were friends didn’t mean that I had to be stuck to her hip 24/7. I skipped those grades cause it benefited me for my future, and if she really was my friend she would’ve been happy for me instead of sulking around like a child.”

That lit a fuse in Caleb, if there was one thing he didn’t tolerate it was anyone saying something about MC, even if it was you.

“You better watch what you say, I won’t tolerate it even it it’s you.”

His tone had you taking a step back, it was a whole different level of cold. You should’ve taken that as your sign to back off and come back to this when you guys were less heated, but who were you if not stubborn.

“Omg how could I ever insult your precious MC. You need to let go of that overprotectiveness you have when it comes to her, it puts me in a tough spot when you go running to her like a dog when its owner calls.”

You probably took it too far with that but you were past the point of no return.

“You’re so infuriating! What do you not understand that MC needs me right now, every moment I spend here on this useless conversation is more time she’s alone.”

He spat back.

I’m infuriating?

That hit a nerve, but you couldn’t let him see that, not until you got all your feelings out.

“I’m infuriating?! What about MC? Every time we get some time together she always fucking ruins it! Can’t I just have all of your attention and time without her trying to barge in? It’s like she’s trying to make it so we don’t spend any time together!”

“God you’re so fucking clingy! I knew I should have listened to MC when she warned me not to date you!”

He yelled that at you, and for the first time since the conversation started you were speechless.

“What?”

Your voice was low and filled with hurt. You couldn’t believe your ears that he would say something like that.

“You heard me. I should have never dated you. I ignored MC when she warned me, I gave you the benefit of the doubt but I should’ve fucking known. MC would have been a better girlfriend than you.”

You could hear your heart breaking, you don’t know if you’d ever recover from this.

Caleb took your silence as an opportunity to walk around you to the door, slamming it behind him.

You felt your knees give out, the tears were streaming down your face in silent pain. You didn’t know he thought of you that way, you didn’t want to think that way but a part of you felt like MC was talking bad about you behind your back. It makes no sense he would say all of that on his own.

Will I always be in her shadow? Is that all I’m worth?

You thought to yourself.

●・○・●・○・●・

God knows how long you were in that position for, no sign of Caleb coming back or any calls or texts. You picked yourself up off the floor and gathered all your things, you’d be damned if you spent another minute in this house where you clearly had no worth.

Throwing on a pair of sweatpants, you made sure to clear everything you had at Caleb’s place, not leaving a single thing behind.

You put everything in your car and drove yourself home. It was 6 in the morning so the roads were starting to get busy but it was quiet enough for you to be lost in thought, a dangerous action while driving. You were so lost in thought you didn’t notice that you were approaching a red light until it was too late.

A car had crashed into your drivers side, and everything went black.

●・○・●・○・●・

*In Linkon*

Caleb had made it outside of MC’s dorm, the argument he had with you weighing heavy on his mind but his first priority was MC.

Who knew that argument would cost him everything.

It didn’t take long before MC threw open the door and jumped into his arms. He returned the hug by patting her on the head before heading inside.

“What happened? Why did you call?”

He asked, although his mind wasn’t entirely present in the moment, it kept drifting back to you.

“Oh no reason, I was just thinking about you and decided to call you. You know it’s my birthday in a couple of days so I wanted you to spend some time with me this weekend.”

For the first time ever, Caleb felt a spark of annoyance at MC’s reasoning. She had called him earlier in tears and said he needed to come quick, he even fought with you before coming here.

Pushing that feeling aside he simply smiled.

“You know I can’t do that pip squeak, I already promised Y/N I would spend my week off with her. We had a bit of an argument before I came here, so I have to go back in a bit to make sure she’s fine.”

He said.

She’ll probably be calmed down by the time I come back.

He thought to himself, boy was he wrong.

MC pouted, not liking how things weren’t playing in her favour, but she planned on trying to come up with another excuse later to get him to stay longer.

●・○・●・○・●・

A couple of hours had passed when he got that heart stopping call.

“Hello is this Caleb Xia? This is Skyhaven Hospital calling about Miss Y/N.”

The nurse spoke in a hurried tone, tt was like someone had knocked the wind out of him.

“Speaking, what happened.”

His anxiety went through the roof, what happened after he left? Did you hurt yourself? But he never say any signs of depression, was he actually putting MC above you so much that he was ignoring your feelings?

His mind was running a mil a minute with each thought progressively getting worse, the guilt from what he said to you when you guys fought was finally kicking in.

“She was involved in a car accident and needs surgery, we require a signature from her guardian to proceed. Are you able to come in right now? It’s urgent.”

“Can I give you my consent over the phone? I’m currently in Linkon and it would take me some time to get back, I don’t want to delay the procedure.”

Although Caleb sounded composed, on the inside he was breaking.

“The surgeon said that should be fine, please do make sure to be here as soon as possible as you need to fill out some forms. We’ll get started on the surgery. Thank you.”

The nurse promptly hung up, leaving Caleb to his thoughts.

Without wasting a moment he got up and made his way to the door. MC had been trying to listen to what was being said on the phone, unable to decipher what was happening based on Caleb’s words alone. Seeing Caleb getting ready to leave she jumped up, trying to stop him.

“Where are you going? You can’t just leave, you basically just got here!”

She grabbed ahold of his arm, trying to physically stop him but it was of no use, he pulled his arm out of her grasp and tried to leave again before she spoke up.

“What excuse did she come up with this time? She does this all the time whenever you and I spend time together.”

Something in him had just snapped, it was like a fog had been lifted. Never in his life did he think he would be here getting upset at MC, but life has a funny way of proving you wrong.

“What are you even talking about, when has she ever done that?”

MC was taken aback, Caleb never questioned her whenever she said anything like this before, he would just spend some time comforting her.

“I don’t have time for this, I’m leaving. I’ll talk to you about this later.”

He said in a curt tone, leaving no room for discussion.

●・○・●・○・●・

Caleb had booked it to Skyhaven, not wanting to waste a single moment.

By the time he made it, the surgery was still ongoing. Grabbing the nearest nurse he asked for an update, unfortunately they didn’t have much of an update to give him aside from the fact that your condition was really bad when you were brought in. You had ran a red light and were hit on the drivers side by oncoming traffic, the other driver made it out with minor injuries and a concussion.

Unfortunately, you weren’t so lucky. You had been brought in with internal bleeding, a broken arm and head trauma. Your recovery period was going to be lengthy, which in turn would also hinder your ability to graduate this year like you had planned, but that was a problem for next time.

Caleb slumped onto on the chairs outside the OR, the time passed by excruciatingly slow.

●・○・●・○・●・

A couple of hours later the operation was finally completed.

Seeing you in that condition physically hurt him, his chest feeling constricted.

“We were able to stop the bleeding but she’s still unconscious, because the head trauma was severe it’ll take some time before she will wake up.”

Caleb nodded, listening to the doctor’s words intently. He followed the nurses to the room where you were going to be recovering, taking a seat next to the bed he held your hand in his.

“I’m sorry, please. Please just wake up soon.”

Sadly you wouldn’t wake up for another two months.

Everyday Caleb would come to take care of you, making sure to change the flowers before they began to wilt, taking responsibility to wash you and take care of your hair, hell he would even do your skincare at night so you’d wake up in perfect condition.

Although he knew deep down inside that nothing he could do could ever make up for the things he said and how he made you feel. Caleb and MC had also grown apart during this time, constantly wishing that he had never went to see her that night, if he didn’t then maybe you’d be awake and smiling next to him instead of lying still on that bed in this lifeless hospital room.

Caleb came in with a fresh bouquet of your favourite flowers, silently he replaced the old ones, making sure to get some fresh water before putting in the new bouquet. Once that was done he made his way to his usual spot, right next to your bed.

Earlier the doctor said you were recovering well, although it would take some time and rehab for you to use your arm again. You’d also be weak from the extended period of time that was spent in bed, but Caleb was nothing if not determined to make sure he was there for you every step of the way.

“Hey baby, it’s me Caleb. You’re probably tired of hearing my voice everyday huh? The doctor says you’re recovering well, you’ll just need some rehab to help you get back into the groove of things when you wake up.”

Caleb kept getting choked up the more he spoke, he just wanted you to wake up, even if you don’t want him anymore, he’d be fine with that.

“I miss you, your voice, your sweet smile, everything. If I could trade spots with you I would. So please, please just wake up. I’m sorry for everything, I’m such a shitty boyfriend aren’t I? I can’t believe I said all of that, on your birthday no less.”

At this point the tears he tried so hard to hold back started streaming down his face. It was hard to keep up that strong front, but he tried because he felt that he didn’t deserve to be sad, not when he’s to blame for you being in this state.

He grabbed a hold of your hand, bringing it to his face hoping to feel something. Anything.

He nuzzled his face in to your hand as he silently cried. It wasn’t long before he was passed out in that chair, still holding your hand to his face.

He felt it in the middle of the night, always the light sleeper he was awake at the slightest of movements. He knew he wasn’t mistaken, he felt your hand twitch for this first time in two months.

He was now wide awake and sitting upright in his seat, watching you closely. That’s when he say it, your hand twitched in his hold, a slight groan escaping your lips, but your eyes had still yet to open.

Caleb had already pressed the call button, the nurses and doctor filling the room in a matter of minutes, that’s when you had finally opened your eyes.

●・○・●・○・●・

A series of tests had been conducted and the doctor had caught you up to speed with everything before you were left alone with Caleb. You avoided looking at him the entire time, it stung, but he couldn’t complain.

You cleared your throat uncomfortably, the dryness getting to you, but before you could even get the water, Caleb had already poured a glass and was holding it out to you.

You silently took it from him and drank it slowly, not wanting to shock your system. It was a struggle, your grip on the glass was weak. It almost slipped out of your hands if not for Caleb holding the bottom of the cup.

Once you were done, Caleb put the glass on the side, reaching out to grab your hands. You pulled them back before he could touch you.

“Why are you here Caleb? Doesn’t MC need you?”

Were you being petty? Yes, the fight that you guys had may have been two months ago for him, but for you it was like it was yesterday. The wounds from his words were still fresh.

You missed the look of hurt that flashed across his face, but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

"You don't get to come in here and think that everything will be fine. I just wanted one week with you, no distractions. All I got in return? You leaving me alone on the morning of my birthday after telling me you should've listened to MC when she told you not to date me?!"

You had tears in your eyes, but you refused to let them escape. You didn't want to let him see just how broken you were about this.

Caleb had nothing to say, how could he? He was the one who put you in this position, he's the reason you ended up in the hospital.

"Please just leave."

Your voice sounded so broken, all he could do was listen to your request even though every cell in his being told him to stay by your side. He chose to just wait outside your room, not wanting to be too far away from you but still wanting to respect your request.

As soon as soon Caleb left the room you let the tears you were holding back fall, your body shook with sobs as everything came crashing down on you.

Even with the morphine you could feel the lingering bits of pain all throughout your body.

You eventually ended up crying yourself to sleep. The silence had Caleb worried, so he had decided to check in on you, seeing that you were asleep he was able to calm himself down a little.

But the sight of your tear stricken face had him clutching his chest in pain, all he wanted to do was take away your pain.

For now, he was just going to try his best to be by your side, no matter how much you pushed him away. He was determined to make things right.

●・○・●・○・●・

A couple of weeks had passed before you were finally released from the hospital.

During that time Caleb was as stubborn as ever, never leaving your side unless it was for classes, he spent the nights next to your bed, watching over you. He was always one step ahead, if you were thinking about food or water, the next second he would have it in front of you.

You didn't want to admit it, you enjoyed having him wait on you hand and foot. But you still weren't ready to forgive him, not yet. You still needed to talk to him about what happened before you could decide where this relationship was headed.

You wanted to give him another chance, seeing how tirelessly he's been taking care of you these past few weeks. You could only assume he was doing the same those two months where you were unconscious.

In the meantime, you decided his punishment would be your silence, not speaking to him unless it was absolutely necessary. Even then you only spoke a few words.

Caleb was currently in class, it was a Friday so that meant he'd home earlier than the other days.

You didn't have much of a choice as to where you'd be staying, Caleb wanted to make sure you were taking all your medication as well as doing the exercises you were assigned for your rehab, he knew how forgetful you could be, and you were in no condition to be staying on your own. So his solution was to have you stay at his place.

Being there brought back bad memories, but you had made up your mind to talk to him about it. If you were going to be staying here you needed to know where you guys stood in each others lives.

You were currently in his room, wanting to take a nap but your mind was too active for you to relax.

It wasn't long before Caleb came home, not seeing you in the living room he immediately made his way towards his room.

The moment he walked in he relaxed, seeing that you were alright. You saw him and thought,

It's now or never.

"We need to talk."

Caleb's heart dropped, his mind went crazy thinking you were about to break up with him. Although he couldn't blame you for wanting to, but he refused to let you go, you were the only good thing he had in his life, he couldn't afford to lose you. Not before he had a chance to make things right.

"Okay."

He said as calmly as possible, not wanting to give away the immense anxiety he was feeling from this situation.

He walked towards you, kneeling on the ground next to you.

"I'm giving you one chance to explain yourself for that night."

That was all he needed to go on tangent about that night, from the call from MC where she was crying to going to her house and finding out she had been lying to him to get him to spend more time with her instead of you to him and MC having a falling out because of the things she said about you.

He laid it all out, he wasn't proud of the fact that he was so easily fooled by her. He had known her far longer than he had known you, and thought she would never lie to him, boy was he wrong.

"I admit that I have absolutely no excuse for letting myself believe her words. I can't forgive myself for the things I said that night and how I just left you there. It was all my fault."

He took your hands in his, you would've pulled them out of his reach but this time you let him hold them. You could see in his actions and in his eyes how much he regretted that night and how he had been trying everyday to make things right.

"I blame myself for your accident, if I had just stayed with you, if i had never said those words you wouldn't have ended up in this condition."

You had never really seen Caleb cry, so seeing him now in tears as his brain recounted the feeling of seeing you on that hospital bed, had your mind coming to a conclusion.

You were going to give him another chance, his one and only chance. If anything like that happens again you won't stick around, you had enough self respect to not tolerate that.

You removed yours hands from his, Caleb had a look of hurt when you did that, but it didn't last long before you cupped his face, wiping away his tears.

"You get one chance only. Mess up and you'll never see or hear from me again, got it?"

He nodded his head like a child before pulling you to the floor and onto his lap.

He hid his face in the crook of your neck as silent sobs raked his body. You ran a soothing hand through his hair to help him calm down.

It hurt to see him like this, but he also deserved it. Even if it was a fraction of the pain you went through.

"I promise I'll make it up to you. Anything you want, I'll do it."

His voice came out muffled, but you could feel the sincerity in it.

"I'll hold you to that."

[guppiechuu]

otp 📷.𖥔 ݁ ˖〰 l.h.

bsf older brother!heeseung x fem!reader

length: 9.7k contains: softdom!heeseung, sneaking around, flirty texts, light jealousy, fluff, ot7 hangout, bff!yoona, summer vibes warnings: smut (minors dni), praise kink, body worship, unprotected sex (don't be silly wrap your willy!), masturbation, oral sex, lots of kissing, explicit language, light voyeurism synopsis: heeseung had always been hot. but he was your best friend’s brother. off-limits. always had been, always would be. that is, until you hear him masturbating in his room late one night, and you can't help but satisfy the gnawing craving that’s eating you inside out.

he wasn't supposed to hear you, and he certainly wasn't supposed to hear you say his name… but he did. what's he gonna do about it?

⤷ chuu's 💌 ── .✦ hiiiiuuu this is my first smut ever on this account. it was meant to be short but we've ended up with almost 10k words ( ╥ ᴗ ╥). i hope u enjoy and lmk if i missed any tags hehe

——

it had been years since you'd added his number to your phone, but thinking back, you weren't sure you'd ever used it before. his name was in the wasteland of your contact list, one without a profile picture or even an emoji to identify him as someone you saw almost every day.

lee heeseung.

that was all it said.

yoona was your very best friend, the only person who still remembered the time you'd cut your own bangs in the 5th grade (which she took care to remind you of all the time), or when you broke your wrist riding a bike for the first time. it was old-school. no you without her.

and with her, came heeseung.

the older brother.

heeseung was two years older than his sister—quiet, careless, indifferent. as long as you'd known yoona, you'd known him, and you were over often enough to be accepted as part of the family.

heeseung was always unfazed by your presence—hanging out in the kitchen, leaning over the counter with yoona as you shoveled cereal into your mouths, or splayed on the couch, stalking one of her exes on instagram. he'd pass by without so much as a 'hello' in your direction, as if you were just as unremarkably part of the house as his little sister was.

he spent most of his time in his room, coming downstairs only to get food or another energy drink from the kitchen. he'd make his way silently to the fridge, the hood of his hoodie pulled up over his head, brown hair poking out messily from underneath, his sleeves pushed up his forearms.

sometimes, you'd find yourself watching him over yoona's phone, nodding to whatever she was saying, but paying more attention to the boy across the room.

heeseung wasn't cute, he was fine. the kind of fine that the other girls at school talked about, which annoyed yoona to no end.

"ugh, if i have to hear about my brother one more time, i'm going to lose it. he's not cool, he's a total loser. you know, y/n. he's like, gross and stupid. i have no idea what anyone sees in him."

"definitely," you agreed.

not definitely.

as much as you sympathized with your friend, you understood why people liked heeseung. he was quiet, sure, and preferred his room to anywhere else in the world, but he was smart. he got amazing grades in school, and was halfway through undergrad at one of the top universities in the country.

he gamed a lot, but he was plenty athletic. you'd seen him without a shirt on almost every summer since you and yoona first met. years ago, he was nothing but a scrawny kid with skin so pale he practically glowed in the sun. now, he was tall, slender but toned, his skin a rich honey-tan.

plus, heeseung might have been soft-spoken, but yoona had complained plenty of times about the girls he snuck into their house after their parents went to bed. the girls at his school were no different than the ones at yours—curious and eager to sidle up next to the quiet kid with the soft voice and dark eyes.

and as much as you pretended otherwise, a part of you was just as curious as they were.

it started over summer break, when heeseung came back home and the lees were set to throw their first barbecue of the season.

you were in the guest bedroom, listening to the sound of yoona's snoring on the other side of the wall. she was a sweet girl, but she tossed and turned something fierce, somehow always managing to land a punch square to your face. it was for your own protection that you slept in the guest bed, where you were safe from her thrashing limbs.

you sighed, glaring up at the ceiling in the dark. you'd tried to sleep—you were meant to be getting up early to help set up—but you were restless.

tossing and turning, you huffed in frustration. a quiet, persistent ache throbbed between your legs, heightened from lack of attention all day. this was what you got for spending nearly every day here, with no privacy to yourself.

you supposed you could do something about it—you were in another room after all... but something about it felt wrong. yoona was on the other side of the wall. it wasn't like she'd wake up, but still...

suddenly, a sound from beyond your room made you freeze, your heart stuttering to what felt like a complete stop. it drifted from across the hall, barely audible but for the way you were holding your breath.

maybe you'd imagined it. maybe it was the result of your late-night craving, just a figment of your own—

the sound came again. a moan.

blood rushed to your face as you realized what you were hearing. across the hall, heeseung was in his room, clearly still awake despite it being well past 2am.

you weren't sure if he had someone there with him, but the sound was unmistakable. he moaned again, louder this time, the sound reverberating against your eardrums. your breath hitched, the twist of desire between your legs swelling against your will.

your mind betrayed you, conjuring all kinds of images before you could even stop them. was he with a girl? his lips attached to her neck as he dug his hips into hers, bottomed out inside of her? or was he alone? head tossed back, lip caught between his teeth, those dark brows furrowed as he—

your face burned.

you squeezed your thighs together, desperately trying to think of anything other than what heeseung might look like right now. it was no use.

another groan drifted in under your door and you matched the sound, groaning to yourself in frustration. your thoughts seemed to have a mind of their own, replaying moments that should have seemed completely ordinary to you:

heeseung coming back from playing basketball with his friends, his hair plastered to his forehead, neck dripping in sweat.

heeseung lounging in the backyard, his shirt tossed over the back of his chair as he fiddled with his guitar.

heeseung making breakfast in the morning, hair a mess, lips red and pouty with sleep, his hand brushing yours as he handed you a plate.

you found yourself arching your back slightly, hips chasing the friction of your thighs as you pictured him. what would he do if he knew you could hear him? how would he touch you if you were inside his room?

your hand wandered beneath your shorts, pussy aching for some kind—any kind of touch. you were wetter than you thought, which was embarrassing and hot at the same time.

what would he do if he knew how wet you were just from hearing the sound of his voice from the other room?

you whined lightly as your fingers circled your clit, conjuring the image of his hand between your legs. your hips bucked upwards, jolts of pleasure shooting through your sensitive nerves.

outside, heeseung moaned again, louder this time, as if he were close to finishing. you slid your fingers inside of yourself, mouth dropping open. the sound of his voice mixed in with yours sent your heart fluttering.

you were disgusting. this was wrong on so many levels. yoona would never forgive you if she knew what you were doing, jacking off to the thought of her brother inside you. the vulgarity of it only made you more desperate, fingers working in and out of your leaking cunt with a hastened speed.

half-dazed you heard the sound of heeseung grunt, as if biting his lip in an effort to keep quiet. maybe you were imagining it, lost in the haze of your own dirty fantasy, or maybe he wanted you to hear it.

that thought was even more ludicrious, but it made your cunt twitch, throbbing, aching to feel him there. what would he say if he could see you? legs spread under his family's blanket, knuckle-deep in your own pussy to the thought of him.

you groaned, mouth open, head tossed back as the bundle of nerves in your stomach tightened.

"f-fuck," you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut. your wrist was slick with arousal that dripped down the back of your hand.

"heeseung," you whined quietly, grinding your hips against your hand as you imagined him leaning over you, grinning down at the way your legs began to shake.

heeseung's moans grew concerningly loud. didn't he care that people might hear? his parents were downstairs, sure, but what about yoona?

she was a heavy sleeper, you reminded yourself. he probably knew it, too. fuck, was he coming this loud every night? why hadn't you ever heard it before?

your voice scratched against your throat as you moved your other hand to your clit, rubbing tight circles above where your fingers were.

"ugh, heeseung," you said through gritted teeth, barely able to contain the sound of your voice. god, you wished he was there, wrist deep inside you, biting his lip while you moaned for him.

across the hall, his muffled voice grew frantic and desperate, the pitch rising, tone cracking. you moaned with him, for him, the feeling of your own orgasm chasing after you like a dog after its own tail.

"ah, ah, yes. yes. please— please hee— fuck!"

you shuddered, back arched up off the futon, pleasure rolling over your body. you fell back against the bed, both hands slick and shining in the dark. your chest heaved, the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears, loud enough to—

wait.

you paused, holding your breath. the hall had gone silent. eerily silent.

that made sense, right? from the sound of things, heeseung had been close to finishing, and in your momentary loss of awareness, maybe you'd missed the sound of it.

right?

as if in answer, your phone buzzed from under your blanket. you pulled it out and felt your heart catapult up your throat.

lee heeseung 04:12am hey 04:12am r u up?

you stared at your screen, mind completely and utterly blank.

fuck.

you scrambled for the most sensible thing to do in the situation, but it was difficult to think straight. did he know that you heard him? worse, had he heard you? your heart sank and sped up simultaneously at the implication of either of those things being true.

what would he think if he'd heard you jacking off across the hall from him? oh my god, what if he'd heard you say his name!? would he say something to you? would he say something to yoona?

you tossed your phone across the room, pulling your blanket up to your chin. just ignore it, you thought, panicked. just pretend like you've been asleep this whole time. you groaned internally at the idea of facing him the next day.

it would probably amount to nothing. heeseung was reserved. definitely not the type to approach his sister's best friend and ask if she'd come to the thought of him last night. you had no reason to worry.

he was your best friend's brother. he was off limits. always had been, always would be.

——

you tried to remind yourself of this as you sat in the kitchen the next morning, waiting for everyone else to wake up so you could start setting things up in the back. you'd slept... poorly. too anxious and too horny to get a good night's rest.

the light came in, pale and soft, through the kitchen windows, which looked out over the backyard. you were perched at the counter, feet brushing the cool tile beneath your seat, when heeseung wandered in.

you glanced at him before looking away, trying not to look guilty of anything. "didn't think anyone else was up," you said. cool. collected. perfectly nonchalant, just like you always were.

"heard the kettle," he said, voice scratchy with sleep. "didn't expect to see you, though."

"what? why not?"

he grabbed a mug from the cupboard. "you seemed tired last night. thought you'd sleep in."

something about the way he said last night made your stomach twist, your palms growing sweaty around your cup.

you looked away. "yeah... well, you know. hard to sleep sometimes."

"mm," he hummed, rifling through the cabinet for a pack of instant coffee. then, "you always talk in your sleep?"

you froze. he threw a glance back at you, one that you couldn't quite read. it wasn't accusatory, it was... curious. amused. the corner of his mouth twitched just slightly, and it took everything in you to ignore the twinge in your lower abdomen.

you swallowed. tried to play it cool. "i don't know what you mean." your voice was steady, but your hand shook slightly as you brought your mug to your mouth.

he nodded, pursing his lips as he turned away. "sure," he said, tearing the coffee packet open and dumping it into his cup. "guess i imagined it."

something about being there, alone, with him–the slope of his shoulders under his tank top, the soft hair at the nape of his neck—you were hungry, but not for any of the food he began pulling out of the fridge.

the muscles in his arms flexed as he grabbed a pan from overhead, shirt riding up to expose the tan skin at his midrift. calvin klein peeked out in black lettering over his sweats. you felt strangely bold.

"what did i say?"

heeseung looked back towards you, a hint of surprise on his face, as if he hadn't expected you to continue this conversation.

"uh, i don't know," he answered, turning away. his neck looked faintly pink. "couldn't quite catch anything from my room."

it was your time to hum, as if you didn't know exactly what you were doing. "i saw your texts this morning," you lied. "hope i didn't wake you up."

he laughed lightly, shaking his head. "nope. was still up."

"really?" you feigned, widening your eyes. "it was so late... what were you doing?"

whatever he'd expected you to say, it wasn't that.

he turned, a half smile on his lips. his mouth opened to say something when yoona bounded into the kitchen, interrupting him before he could start.

"mom's out of the shower," she said, coming to sit beside you.

heeseung closed his mouth and turned back to his breakfast.

"hey, not gonna share?" yoona complained, eyeing her brother's plate.

"eggs are right there, make it yourself."

"whatever," she scowled, muttering under her breath about what a lowsy brother he was. "dad says you have to help him with the grill. y/n, we're supposed to run to the store. my mom forgot some stuff yesterday."

"alright," you agreed. "what time is everyone getting here?"

"12, i think. so we'd better get a move on."

you downed the rest of your coffee and got up, making a point not to look at heeseung as you trailed after his sister.

yoona called over her shoulder as she grabbed her keys, "text me if mom remembers anything else!"

——

lee heeseung 09:37am mom wants pineapple 09:37am for the grill

you were surprised to see another set of texts from heeseung on your phone, only a few minutes after getting to the store.

"here," you showed yoona. "he probably meant to text you."

she nodded, adding pineapple to the list on her phone as you sent him a text back.

you 09:39am got it. yoona has the list if u think of anything else

you drop your phone into the cart, laughing about something dumb yoona said about the pineapple display. you spent half the time dutifully tracking down the things her mom had requested you pick up, and the other half goofing off in the aisles, falling into your usual giggly banter.

your phone buzzed again from the cart, hidden under a bag of corn.

lee heeseung 09:58am we're out of butter too 09:58am and eggs

you stared at the message, your chest fluttering. heeseung was texting you on purpose? he'd never done that.

you 10:00am yoona's still got the list lol

lee heeseung 10:01am i know 10:01am figured you’d see it faster

you read it twice, thumb hovering over the keyboard. technically true, but still, heeseung was texting you. your stomach did a flip as you typed out a reply.

you 10:02am i’m not as organized as her tho 10:02am might come back with ice cream instead of eggs

lee heeseung 10:03am not the worst trade 10:03am as long as it’s rainbow sherbert

you paused, smiling a little.

you 10:04am that’s a controversial opinion

lee heeseung 10:05am yeah? 10:05am you really gonna argue with the guy in charge of the grill?

you 10:05am depends 10:05am you gonna burn everything like last year?

he didn’t respond right away. you glanced over and caught yoona watching you, suspicious.

“what?”

“you’re smiling at your phone.”

you looked away. “heeseung wants butter and eggs.”

she narrowed her eyes. “right.”

you tossed a carton of rainbow sherbet in the cart. just in case.

the texts didn't stop there. everyone was busy from the moment you and yoona returned home, but heeseung still found reasons to message you with requests or snide comments—something he'd never done before, not even when you were younger and he still lived at home.

as you hurried around the house, prepping food and taking plates out, your phone buzzed continuously in your back pocket.

lee heeseung 10:44am can you bring the chairs from downstairs out

lee heeseung 11:23am does yoona have her speaker? mine's dead

lee heeseung 11:36am you still listen to this band??????

lee heeseung 11:40am mmmm they're kinda good actually 11:41am send me this playlist

lee heeseung 12:03pm i think that's jay and the guys can you let them in? helping my dad w something rn

"i'll get it!" yoona exclaimed cheerily, smoothing her hair down as she ran towards the door.

behind it were all of heeseung's friends from high school. jay was the first to come through, ruffling his hand on the top of yoona's head.

"hey yoonie, long time no see."

she glowered at him, knocking his arm away. her face brightened back up as jungwon came through the door, the color rising to her cheeks. "jungwon!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him.

"hey yoona," he grinned.

niki stepped around them, toting a box of beer under his arm.

"don't let mrs. lee catch you with that," you said as he held his hand up to high-five you.

"oh, true... shit— umm... here," he said, shoving the box towards jake, whose hands were already full with a colorful bouquet of flowers.

the dark-haired boy stumbled, catching the box before it dropped. "oh, sure, make me the bad influence."

"i think you have enough mom points to cancel out," you smiled, nodding down at the flowers as they shed petals over the floor.

"it’s good to see you, y/n" jake smiled.

"can you guys move! i'm starving!" sunoo exclaimed, standing on his tiptoes to see what the holdup was. he and jungwon followed yoona towards the backyard, chatting excitedly.

"hi sunghoon," you grinned, reaching up to pull the tall boy in for a hug.

"y/nnn," he cooed, eyes crinkling at the sides. "still flunking chem?"

"only 'cuz you're not around to help me anymore."

"you could call, you know."

you smiled sheepishly. "mm, yeah... but i don't wanna bother you guys. you have a lot going on, i'm sure."

sunghoon scoffed. “just because heeseung acts like he has no time for anything outside of school doesn't mean same for the rest of us.”

you hummed, following him through the house to the backyard.

outside, the air smelled of smoke and grilled meat. yoona appeared by your side, her face flushed and happy. "hey," she said. "jungwon looks good, huh." she was giddy, her schoolgirl crush back in full swing for the summer.

"he does," you agreed, following her gaze to where he and sunoo were already picking at the skewers on the grill. heeseung laughed at them, sucking sauce from his thumb as jungwon burned his hand on one.

"do you think..." she started, her cheeks going even redder.

"that you should say something?"

she looked at you sheepishly.

"hm, let me think, what have i said to you every summer since the eighth grade?"

she laughed, head tilted back. "i know, i know. maybe one day i'll be brave like you."

your stomach flipped as you looked back at heeseung. you remembered the sound of his voice in the hall last night, and the sound of yours mixed with it.

"guess i imagined it." he'd said, a knowing look on his face.

you shook your head, turning back to your friend. "come on," you said, dragging her inside. "let's get changed."

——

heeseung pretended not to notice that you’d gone, but he noticed.

his hand itched to go to his phone, to send you another text that’d send you blushing like crazy, the way you had been all day.

you and his sister had disappeared inside, presumably to change into your swimsuits, and heeseung had to mentally prepare himself for your return. to see you prancing around the backyard with all your exposed skin, and to not be moved in any way, shape, or form.

yesterday, that would’ve been simple. easy.

yesterday, heeseung had never heard his name moaned from your mouth before. he’d never considered the idea of you fantasizing about him before, but now that he had, everything had changed.

he tried to focus on the story jay was telling, but all he could think about was your pretty little hands wedged between your legs, the thought of him playing in your mind. he hadn’t intended for you to hear him, honestly; he figured you were fast asleep the same as everyone else in the house. how wrong he’d been.

his body shivered at the memory of hearing your voice for the first time, the desperate whine that was barely audible from his room. he’d never come faster in his life.

“feels like so much has changed since we were here for christmas,” sunghoon pointed out, pulling a piece of beef from its skewer with his teeth.

“they tore down the old dance studio,” sunoo said, pouting sadly. “i wish i could’ve visited one last time.”

“i know,” heeseung said, cracking a can of beer open and taking a drink. “should’ve seen my mom, she threw a fit.”

“it always feels weird being back for the summer.”

“mm,” heeseung agreed, mind wandering back to you and how long he’d have to wait to see you come back downstairs.

you wore the same swimsuit every year, a modest little one piece that, now that he really thought about it, still somehow looked unbearably sexy on you. he said a silent ‘thank you’ that you only had the one. he didn’t think he could take it if you wore anything more revealing. 

“seriously, everyone looks so different,” sunoo laughed. “i ran into beomgyu yesterday. he’s got, like, four new piercings.”

“oh, yeah. i’m pretty sure yeonjun got a tattoo when he went to cabo for spring break.”

"yoona got hot," jake said casually, tossing a chip into his mouth.

"dude, shut up," heeseung cringed.

“well obviously not to you,” sunghoon teased, nudging him with his shoulder.

jungwon shrugged. “no, he’s right. she’s gotten really pretty.”

“then why don’t you ask her out?” heeseung elbowed the younger boy, grimacing at the idea of anyone finding his sister attractive. she was weird as hell, and totally immature. not at all what he’d consider ‘really pretty’.

jake nodded. “yeah jungwon, it’d be about time. you’ve liked her for, what, five years?”

“tell ya what,” jay said, holding his hand out, “you ask yoona out, i’ll ask y/n out. double date.”

“dude, ew, that’s heeseung’s sister,” sunghoon said, making a face.

“y/n’s not!”

“they’re like the same age!”

“not even,” heeseung interjected, growing tense. “y/n’s older than yoon is.”

“so what? they’re inseparable. they might as well be related, too.”

“will you shut up?” heeseung complained, quieting the others. he rubbed at his temple frustratedly. “don’t compare them,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

he didn't like it when people compared you to his sister. you weren’t like her at all. you weren’t weird or immature. you were funny and intelligent, and plenty charming even without considering how pretty you were.

and yeah, you were almost the same age as his sister, but that didn’t matter. not when you’d always been the more grounded of the two—more responsible, more even-tempered, more grown up.

and he definitely didn’t need jay of all people thinking he had a chance. it was his name on your lips last night, his teasing that had you fumbling your words that morning.

“touchy,” sunoo remarked, stealing a chip from the bowl in jake’s hand.

“didn’t realize she made you so defensive,” jake smirked, handing the bowl back for him and jungwon to finish off. “if you don’t want anyone talking to her, maybe you should—“

“dude.” heeseung glared.

jay raised his brows, a knowing smirk tugging at the side of his mouth.

sunghoon let out a low whistle, tossing a ping pong ball in jake’s direction. “way to piss off your host,” he teased.

“damn, alright,” jake surrendered, holding his hands up. “possessive much?”

he has no idea, heeseung thought to himself. yes, he was possessive. it had taken one night to completely alter the way heeseung thought about you, but there was no going back now.

he wanted you.

he wanted you bad.

luckily for him, you were spending the night again, and heeseung was going to get you.

——

“jungwon said this one was pretty last summer,” yoona said cheerily, admiring herself in the mirror that hung on the back of her door. “do you think he’ll remember it?”

you glanced up from your own swimsuit, fumbling with the strings. “oh, definitely. no guy in his right mind would ever forget the way you look in that.”

“but do you think he’ll think it’s tacky? wearing the same one? maybe i should’ve gone shopping with you last week after all...”

“no way,” you assured her. “stop checking yourself out and help me with this.”

she begrudgingly left her reflection behind and took the strings out of your hands, smirking at you. “finally ditched the one piece, huh. trying to impress someone?”

you flushed. “no,” you said pointedly. “just thought it was time to change things up. m’not in high school anymore,” you mumbled.

it was the truth—you honest to god hadn’t been trying to impress anyone when you bought the bikini the week before. now, though… all you could think about was what heeseung would think about it.

a twinge of guilt rose as yoona finished with the strings, giving you an affectionate slap on the ass. “well you look amazing.” she grinned.

your stomach felt unbelievably bare as you skipped down the stairs behind yoona. thankfully, the two of you had hit the beach almost every day since getting off school for the summer, and your skin was bronzed and glowing. yoona’s sunblock smelled like coconut butter, but you still opted to put your perfume on, the familiar scent seeping into your skin.

yoona threw the back door open and you stepped out into the sunlight, eyes blurring as they adjusted to the change in light. as the world came back into view, you caught someone’s eye from across the pool.

heeseung.

you felt every muscle in your stomach clench, heat rising up your neck. his eyes were dark, greedy, barely contained. he dragged them down your body shamelessly, as if picturing what lay beneath your swimsuit, which already left little to the imagination.

it felt like his gaze was burning your skin. oh, he wanted you. there was no talking yourself out of it anymore. it was obvious from the look on his face—heeseung wanted to fuck you.

you tilted your head suggestively, holding his gaze long enough to make your stomach flutter. jay hit him on the arm, trying to get his attention back to whatever they were talking about. heeseung tore his eyes away from you, smiling. he shook his head lightly, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

the rest of the day passed in a hazy blur of heat and commotion. you and yoona managed to convince the guys to go swimming, even though sunghoon was the only one who’d come prepared with a swimsuit.

heeseung, ever the rebellious older brother, stood with his hands behind his back, flashing two beers as he conversed with jake and his mom. you and yoona smiled at mrs. lee over his shoulder as you took them, sneaking around the side of the house to where niki had snuck off with one of his own.

you didn’t really talk to heeseung. you hardly looked at him, but you felt his eyes on you. sometimes you’d glance at him and see him already looking, or his fingers flying over his phone. yours would buzz in your hand, his name popping up on your screen.

lee heeseung 04:12pm is it weird if i say you look good in my backyard

you 04:12pm yes 04:12pm but i’ll allow it 04:12pm good to know new swimsuit is a success

lee heeseung 04:13pm wasn’t talking about the outfit but now that u bring it up… yeah. that too.

your face burned at the way he spoke to you, knowing his sister was sitting right next to you and could look over at your phone at any moment. it felt risky, dangerous, like a secret shared only between the two of you.

heeseung wasn’t the only one who liked the way you looked. jay had always flirted shamelessly with you, and did so even more now. even jake paid you a few compliments, grinning as he bit his lip teasingly. none of them mattered to you, though it seemed to bother heeseung plenty.

as jay cracked another joke, causing you to throw your head back in laughter, your phone vibrated again against your leg. you glanced down at it.

lee heeseung 05:03pm it can’t have been that funny

you pretended not to notice the notification, smile widening as jay went on.

lee heeseung 05:05pm mmm like it when u ignore me 05:05pm keep letting him think he has a chance

you 05:06pm hm jealous much?

you typed out, half-listening.

lee heeseung 05:08pm nah 05:09pm don’t need to be

you watched his text bubble appear and disappear again, a third message popping into view.

lee heeseung 05:10pm i know who u think abt when ur cumming

that wiped the smile clean off your face. you slammed your phone down, aware of the color rising up your face. across the backyard, heeseung pretended not to see you, nodding along to whatever sunghoon was saying, the ghost of a smile on his face.

you excused yourself from the table. yoona called after you as you ducked back inside, cheeks burning with equal parts embarrassment and arousal. you’d been texting heeseung all day, flirting even, but you hadn’t expected him to be that direct.

so he knew what he did to you. and he seemed to get a kick out of it, too.

you closed the bathroom door behind you, leaning against the counter as you read the message again. i know who you think about when you’re cumming. it was so vulgar, so direct, it sent a jolt of desire shooting straight down your body.

the door opened in front of you, taking you by surprise. before you could announce yourself, heeseung was sliding into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

“heeseung—” you started, scrambling for something—anything—normal to say that wouldn’t reveal that you were looking at his texts.

he didn’t wait for you to finish.

you tensed as he closed the small gap between you, pressing you back into the edge of the counter, hands grabbing your hips. a small yelp escaped your mouth as he came closer, tilting his head to kiss you—to kiss you!—against the sink.

his mouth was soft and warm, opening against yours with a sense of urgency and desperation, as if he’d been holding himself back from grabbing and kissing you all day. your hands snaked around his neck, fingers digging into the back of his hair, earned a shaky breath from him, his grip on your hips tightening.

he groaned frustratedly. “i was gonna be good,” he grumbled, chasing the heat of your mouth. “was gonna wait.”

“then why didn’t you?” you asked, the pressure of his lower body pressed sending your head spinning.

“because you laughed at jay’s stupid joke like that. and tried to act like i wasn’t driving you crazy,” he said breathily. he smirked at you. “like you weren’t moaning my name last night.”

you whined against his lips, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him closer. his skin was hot under your fingers, warm from the sun beating down on him all day. he smelled like chlorine and grill smoke, lips sweet with the sugary taste of pineapple and beer. your thighs squeezed together, desire bubbling up your stomach and wetting the inside of your bikini bottoms.

“you really think i didn’t see you looking at me when yoona wasn’t around?”

“heeesung,” you whined, pressing your thighs together needily.

he pressed his lips to your neck, sucking harshly at your skin, followed by a rough bite. you hissed. that was definitely going to leave a mark, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to stop him.

“you think i don’t know who this swimsuit is for?” he said, voice low and growling, possessive.

you shivered as his hands slid up your waist, pushing under the strings that tied behind your back. his palms were cool against the heat of your skin, sending goosebumps rising up your arms.

“didn’t know you were such a tease, y/n,” he said against your neck, digging his fingers into your back. “walking around and smiling all pretty at everyone here. sunghoon likes you, did you know that?”

you did. he’d told you years ago how much he enjoyed spending time with you. it wasn’t a big deal. he wasn’t hung up on you or anything, but the way heeseung’s fingers pressed into you, you’d have thought sunghoon had challenged him about you.

“but he’s not the one you get off to, is he?”

“mmhm.” you shook your head, stabling yourself against the counter as heeseung’s knee pushed between your legs.

“no,” he purred, dragging his tongue across your skin. “it’s me. you moan all pretty just for me. can you do it again? wanna hear your voice, just like last night.”

your ground your hips forward, the pressure of his leg between your thighs sending your head falling back in pleasure. “heeseung,” you moaned, brows furrowing. “want you.”

“what’s that?”

“i want you,” you repeated, bringing your head up to look at him. he was watching you with his lip in his teeth, pupils blown as he took in the sight of your body grinding against his. “i want you really bad. didn’t… didn’t get enough last night.”

“of course not,” he said. “getting off to the sound of my voice isn’t enough for a pretty slut like you, is it? you just couldn’t help yourself, huh? the sound of your best friend’s brother coming in the other room got you all horny. did you touch yourself?”

he already knew the answer to that, but he wanted to hear you say it. you nodded, gripping his shoulders like they were the only thing keeping you standing. the way your thighs shook around his leg, they might have been.

“how?” he demanded, watching his hands on your waist in the mirror. the line down your spine twisted as you worked your hips against him, those cute little dimples in your back rising and falling above the waistline of your swimsuit.

“my hands,” you answered breathily.

“both of them?”

“mhm.” you nodded.

“fuck,” he whispered, moving his hands down to your hips, dragging your hips harder against his thigh. “you wanted it that bad?”

you nodded again as your upper half fell back over the sink, your elbows propped on the counter. he watched your stomach stretch and contort, the fabric of your bikini sliding over your skin.

“mmm,” he hummed, pressing his mouth to your chest. “so pretty. don’t remember you being this fucking pretty.” he kissed his way up your throat, stamping his lips over your jaw and cheek.

“heeseung,” you said quietly, looking up at him with that adorable twist in your brows. “i want— i need to feel you. want you. now. please?”

he smirked. “can’t even wait for my friends to go home? or maybe you want them here. want them to hear me make you say my name again?”

“i don’t care,” you complained, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck. “just want you.”

his lips curved into a smile. “yeah?” his hand trailed down your stomach, squeezing into the small space between your hips and his leg. “just had to ask, baby. been waiting all day for you to ask.”

you growled impatiently, pushing his hand beneath the fabric of your swimsuit where you were burning hot and soaked. he groaned, lips tickling over your neck—

knock, knock.

you both froze.

another knock came, louder this time.

“heeseung?” sunghoon’s voice floated through the door. “are you in there? jake fucked something up with the grill."

you felt heeseung’s breath hitch against your skin. you were still wrapped halfway around him, his hand still between your thighs.

he swore under his breath. “yeah, two seconds,” he called, voice wavering slightly.

you smirked, finding the situation funnier than you probably should have given how seriously fucked you’d both be if you were discovered. just to tease him, you pressed your hips against his hand again. it was just an inch, but he hissed, eyes darting up to yours. “you’re the worst,” he whispered.

you grinned, gaze going from his lips to his eyes. “that’s what you get,” you replied. “messing around with a—what was it you said? ‘pretty slut like me’?”

he kissed you once—a firm, frustrated press to your lips—then straightened, dragging his hand through his hair as if it might help calm him down. “coming,” he grumbled, opening the door just wide enough to slip through without sunghoon seeing you.

you watched him go, half-dazed, as the door clicked shut behind him. you didn’t dare breathe until you heard his voice outside again, casual and unbothered, fade down the hall. “yeah, yeah, i got it.”

——

the evening came and went in a blur. you were distracted—you knew it, the others knew it. yoona had to repeat things multiple times, snapping to get your attention, teasing you about what a blockhead you could be at times.

“seriously, what’s up with you?” she asked, crossing her arms suspiciously.

you gave her a sorry look, trying to ignore the way your swimsuit bottoms clung to your skin, sticky and wet from how turned on heeseung made you. “i’m sorry, i think i’m just tired.” you lied. “didn’t sleep very well last night.”

“you’re a champ, y/n,” yoona’s dad said, clapping a hand on your shoulder as he passed with a pile of dishes. “thanks for helping out all day. don’t know what we’d do without you.”

 and if you knew i was about to fuck your son in the bathroom ten minutes ago? you thought, smiling up at him. hopefully, you’d never know the answer to that question.

the boys helped clean up like the good friends they were, arguing over who got to take the leftovers home. mrs. lee laughed at their eagerness, promising to make more for everyone to take home.

“are you guys going to the beach?” she asked, handing you another stack of plates to put away.

“hell yes,” yoona interjected, staring them all down. “we have to. it’s a tradition.” 

“actually, yoona…” jungwon said, looking up from the sink. “i was wondering… well, that new disney reboot is out. it’ll probably be pretty bad,” he chuckled, cheeks pink. “but the last showing is tonight… do you want to see it with me?”

the way yoona’s face lit up, her eyes going wide like two saucers, you’d have thought jungwon had gotten down on one knee and asked her to marry him. she agreed eagerly, scrambling upstairs to change clothes, dishes forgotten.

“lame,” jay drawled. “you’re really ditching us for a girl, wonie?”

“am not,” jungwon shot back, tsking as he turned back to the sink. “it’s not a girl,” he muttered seriously. “it’s yoona.”

“well, we’re going anyways,” jake decided. he turned to heeseung’s parents. “you guys wanna come with?”

mrs. lee smiled. “that’s sweet of you, jake, but no. we have plans in town.”

mr. lee wiggled his eyebrows. “take notes boys. thirty-four years and i still take her out on dates. you know what they say—”

“yeah, yeah, happy wife, happy life,” heeseung finished for his father. “you say it too often for us to forget.”

“you’re coming with, right, heeseung?” jay prompted, emptying the contents of a chip bag into his mouth before tossing it in the trash.

your throat tightened. his eyes were on you, you could feel the burn of them on your skin.

“i don’t know, i’ve got school stuff,” he said casually.

“dude, it’s the first week of summer. what could you possibly have to do?”

heeseung raised a brow. “and this is why i go to the school i do, and you go to the one you do.”

“oh, whatever. piss off, ivy league.”

“language,” mrs. lee reminded him, raising her brows. jay mumbled an apology, making a face at heeseung as she turned to you. “i guess you’ll be staying behind too then, y/n?”

you looked up, eyes wide. “what?”

“i thought i heard you say you were tired. you’re welcome to stay here while we’re gone, get an early night.”

“although, i cant promise yoona won’t wake you when she gets back. i’m sure she’ll have lots to tell you,” mr. lee said, winking at jungwon, who turned bright red.

“right, okay,” you said simply, ignoring the feeling of heeseung’s eyes on you. “thanks, guys.”

“you guys get out of here, we’ll finish up,” mr. lee said, ushering you out of the kitchen. “thanks for your help today.”

people started peeling off after that, jake and sunghoon racing to see which one got to the car first. yoona held you hostage upstairs as she tried outfit after outfit on, growing more despaired by the minute.

at one point, jungwon poked his head in the door. “you almost ready, yoona?”

“jungwon!” she shrieked, pushing him out of her room. “get out of here! i still haven’t figured out what i’m gonna wear.”

he gave her a confused look as she shoved him down the hall. “why does it matter?” he exclaimed, “you look pretty regardless.”

“god! out! out! wait downstairs!”

you laughed as she came back in. “you’re gonna scare him off, yoon.”

“good. then i don’t have to worry about acting like a total idiot tonight,” she cried, clearly distressed.

“you’re not going to act like an idiot. even if you did, jungwon has known you too long to be surprised.”

“thanks,” she smiled, pulling a sweet little black sundress out of her closet. “you’re not mad?”

“why would i be mad?”

“because i’m ditching you…”

you shook your head, smiling at the stupidity that. “of course not. i’ve been waiting for this to happen for years, yoona. i’m happy for you.”

her concern melted away. “okay, good. sorry i’m dumping you with my brother. maybe some of the guys will stay around and you won’t have to hang out with just him.”

“maybe,” you answered. hopefully not.

her parents were gone by the time yoona was ready to leave with jungwon. you waved bye to them before padding quietly through the house, searching for anyone who was still around.

by the time you made it back outside, the sun had dipped fully below the trees, turning the backyard a dusky purple.

heeseung was already there, sitting at the edge, legs dangling in the water. he didn’t say anything when you stepped out, just turned to watch you, taking a sip of his beer.

“everyone’s gone?” you asked.

“yup. just you and me now.”

you sat down beside him, grabbing the bottle from his hand and taking a drink. “kind of nice like this,” you said, relaxing into a state of silence you hadn’t had since the early morning, when he’d first come into the kitchen.

heeseung didn’t say anything at first. the sky went to navy, the light from the pool the only thing that illuminated his face in the dark. then he looked at you, nodding towards the water. “come on.”

“what?” you asked, watching as he stood and pulled his shirt over his head. you exclaimed as he dove in, splashing you with water.

“come on,” he insisted, breaking the surface and shaking the water from his hair.

you raised a brow at him. “thought you were trying to be good.”

he hummed, the light glinting off his earrings. “i said i was. doesn’t mean i still am.”

you sucked in a breath as he waded to your legs, sliding his hands up the side of your thighs. you let him pull you into the water, the feeling of his arms wrapping around you sending heat up your abdomen.

he grabbed your legs and wrapped them around his waist, leaning forward to press his mouth onto yours again. it was slower this time, more deliberate. his tongue curled against your lips, teasing them further apart to kiss you deeper.

hours of pent-up tension rose inside you, a soft sigh escaping you as he kissed you harder—sloppy and desperate.

“fucking pretty,” he mumbled, bringing his lips down your neck. “couldn’t stop looking at you all day.” 

you gasped as his teeth scraped gently against your skin, arms tightening around his shoulders. the water lapped at you gently, cool against your skin. you shivered, though not from the chill. heeseung’s body was burning hot against yours, his skin flushed red from spending all day in the sun.

your fingers trailed up the nape of his neck, tangling in the damp hair there. “heeseung…”

he groaned against your collarbone, his arms wrapped around your waist. “wanted to fuck you so bad in the bathroom. fucking sunghoon—” he complained, kneeding your skin with his hands.

“leave him alone,” you laughed, pushing the wet hair back from his face. “not his fault you decided to take on grill master today.”

“yeah, well, i could hardly contain myself the rest of the day. never wanted to fuck anyone this bad before,” he mumbled, and your heart fluttered.

heeseung had been with plenty of girls before, and maybe he’d said the same thing to them, too, but you didn’t care. his words sent chills up your spine. he kissed you again breathlessly, pulling your body flush against his as his hands wandered down your body.

“could’ve— ah!” you gasped as he sucked a deep red mark into your neck. “—could’ve done something about it,” you said.

“i wanted to,” he answered, voice low. all his attention was on your neck now, pressing soft, pretty kisses into your skin, as if to make up for the teeth marks he’d left before. “wanted to drag you upstairs, or into the garage. fuck—” he paused to grin up at you. “—would’ve dragged you behind the grill if i had to.”

“mm, classy” you said. “i’m sure yoona would’ve loved that. your parents, too.”

you meant to tease him, but the fact that you two weren't supposed to be together, couldn't be seen together, seemed to turn him on even more.

his grip hardened on you, pressing you against the edge of the pool. it would’ve scraped at your back if it weren’t for his hands, providing a barrier between your skin and the rough stone.

with one smooth lift, he had you perched back on the concrete, his hands smoothing their way up your inner thighs. “they’re not here now.” he growled, pushing your legs apart.

you leaned back on your hands, watching giddily as heeseung pressed his open mouth against the wet fabric of your bikini bottons. his breath was hot on your thighs, the pressure of his tongue through your swimsuit had your eyes rolling back, body lying flat on the ground.  

heeseung never actually touched you, he ate you out over your swim bottoms, mouth separated from your cunt by that flimsy little stretch of fabric. but it didn’t matter, you were a moaning mess under his tongue. your back arched, legs lifting from the edge of the pool as he pressed his face into you, lapping hungrily at your pussy.

“hee— heeseung,” you cried, fingers clawing at the concrete beneath you. your thighs trembled on either side of his head, hips grinding against his mouth.

he pulled away, wrapping a hand around your thigh as he kissed the skin next to your cunt. “so wet, baby. want you to be totally soaked before i take you upstairs and fuck the shit out of you.”

“now,” you spluttered. “now, please, don’t make me wait any longer.”

you yelped as he bit the sensitive skin on your inner thigh, hoisting himself out of the water, dripping in streams down his chest. you stumbled upstairs together, drunk on the knowledge that you had the entire house to yourself.

heeseung pushed you backwards into his room, his door bouncing off the wall as he picked you up and dropped you onto his mattress. he stood back to admire the way you looked, splayed on top of his comforter, begging him to come closer.

“how did i not notice!?” he exclaimed, crawling over you, nipping at your stomach, chest, and shoulders. “how did i never notice how fucking hot you are?”

a laugh bubbled up your throat—at him, at the absurdity of this, at how much his words delighted you. “shut up,” you giggled.

“i’m being serious,” he said, grabbing your wrists and pinning them down by your head. “how the fuck was i so fucking blind?”

“hmm, too busy sleeping with the girls at your school, i suppose,” you teased.

“fuck the girls at school,” he muttered, pulling your swim bottoms down your legs. he groaned, kissing your hips. “so fucking pretty.”

this time, when he disappeared between your legs, you felt it all. the laugh died in your throat as he curled his tongue against you, your smile turning to a gasp.

“oh, fuck, heeseung,” you moaned, twisting your fingers into his hair.

he pushed your legs back, lapping at your cunt like he was trying to lick everything up, like he couldn’t let a single drop go to waste. “say my name again, baby. wanna hear your pretty voice.”

you did as he asked, moans growing louder and louder, surely audible from outside his room. you didn’t care. you clawed at him as he sucked your clit, the cold metal of his rings bumping against your skin as he slid a finger inside you.

“mmm, nice and wet for me,” he praised, licking his lips. “what am i supposed to do with you? all needy for me. you want it that bad?” he asked.

you nodded, digging your nails into his skin.

“you’re gonna sound even prettier when i’m inside of you.”

“mhm, i’m ready,” you whined. “needed you since i heard you last night.”

“yeah?” he asked, sitting back to pull his trunks down. his cock sprang up, long and flushed and beautiful.

you nodded again. “sounded s— so pretty. never wanted to fuck you before.”

“what did you think about?”

you groaned as he pressed himself against you, coating his length in your wetness. your hips bucked, desperate for more, desperate to just get him inside of you already.

“y-you watching me,” you admitted, inching your hips towards him. “what you’d say, if you saw me.”

“oh yeah? what did you think i’d say, princess?”

you bit your lip. “that i was filthy. touching myself with my best friend in the room next to mine. that i was a filthy mess.”

he angled himself between your thighs, the head of his cock pressing against your pussy. “mm, not filthy, baby,” he said, bending down to kiss you again. “pretty.”

you arched your back, fingers trailing up his spine. 

“but i can make you filthy. you want that, pretty girl? want me to fuck you filthy?”

you nodded, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. you wanted him so bad. you needed him. he was taking his sweet time, teasing you with his words, but you couldn’t wait any longer. you clawed at him, trying to pull him into you.

heeseung groaned, head dropping between his shoulders, as he slid inside you.

“fuck,” he said, pushing his hips into yours roughly. you were so wet, juices dripping down his thighs as he fucked into you, groaning.

you wriggled needily beneath him, curling your hips up to meet him at every stroke, swimsuit straps falling down your shoulders. he leaned forward and pressed his lips to your neck, admiring the series of red marks he’d left down the sides. those would be nasty the next day, but the thought of it made heeseung harden inside you.

let everyone see them, he thought. let the whole world see how good you’d been for him.

“ah— ah, fuck, yes,” you cried, digging your nails into his shoulders.

“mm, feels so fucking good,” he gasped, reaching a hand back to grab the back of your thigh. “feel so fucking good, y/n. if i’d known—” he hissed, biting his lip. “if i’d known you felt this good, would’ve fucked you a long time ago.”

“please, heesung,” you whimpered, scratching down his back until his skin stung.

“should’ve been my first,” he panted, curling his fingers into his blanket. “wouldn’t have known what to do with you, all wet for me like this. would’ve finished the second i was inside.”

you reached your hands out to rake them through his hair, fingers curling around the soft strands and tugging, needing more. he moaned, hips stuttering into yours as your mouth attached to the side of his neck, your tongue soft and wet on his skin.

his mouth fell open, a moan scratching out the back of his throat as you stretched around him, taking him so well.

he rocked forward, buried so deep inside you that your waist stretched, head pressing back into his mattress. he filled you just right, making sure to give you every single inch until you were crying out, gripping his arms.

he watched hungrily as your face twisted, eyes squeezed shut, those pink lips of yours parted in ecstasy. it was like he couldn’t even feel you on his cock, he was too preoccupied with watching every subtle change in your expression. he felt like he could watch you for hours, panting, tongue lolling as he buried himself deeper inside you.

you clamped a hand over your mouth, thighs squeezing him on either side as he bottomed out inside of you. he snatched your wrist away from your face.

“don’t do that,” he warned, breathless. “let me hear you. tell me how good you feel, baby.”

“heeseung, i’m—” you wailed, twisting your head to the side. "feels so good."

“that’s right, show me how filthy that pussy is, princess. make a mess on me.”

your brows furrowed, beautiful, as he leaned down, swallowing the sound of your cries. you groaned against his tongue, grinding your hips against his, the friction against your clit sending your head reeling.

“come on, baby,” he coaxed. “i’m right here. take what you want.”

you moaned, low and guttural.

he grinned gleefully at the way your voice broke, thighs shaking around him. your body tensed under him as he pressed his forehead against yours, pulling him closer by the neck.

surely, the neighbors could hear you now. heeseung didn’t give a fuck. he wanted to see you all the way undone. wanted to see how loud you could be for him.

“i’m—” you gasped, “i’m gonna—”

“good girl,” he praised, “wanna feel you come all over my cock. i’m not pulling out, need to feel you.”

his words sent you hurdling over the edge, your hips lifting off the mattress as pleasure crashed over your body. your mind went blank, hands scrambling up his back as you moaned his name, over and over.

heeseung’s stomach tightened at the sound of your babbling, at the way your fingers fluttered over his shoulders. he ground his teeth together, groaning longingly as he snapped his hips into yours. your pussy clenched around him, riding out the height your orgasm in a way that sent stars bouncing around the edges of his vision.

he panted, hips stuttering, arms shaking, as the tension boiling in his stomach finally snapped, cum spilling out of his cock.

“f—fuck, fuck, y/n,” he moaned, grabbing the side of your face as he kissed you. you drank the sound in.

his moans vibrated against your lips, so needy and pretty, just like the night before. only this time, he was on top of you, face buried in your neck, dick still hard inside of you.

“fuck,” he drawled, pushing himself inside of you one more time, reveling at the feeling of cum leaking out around him. “stay here,” he said, eyes still closed, brows furrowed. “stay with me tonight. please?”

you laughed. “and how do you want me to explain that to yoona.”

“fuck yoona.”

“hey,” you said, frowning at him.

he shook his head. “fine. hang out with her all you want. but when she falls asleep, come here. don’t go to the guest room.”

you bit your lip, trailing your finger across his collarbone. “fine… but we have to wake up early. she can’t know i slept here.”

he scoffed, grinning as he bent down to kiss you. “fine. not a problem.” he bit at your neck again, softer this time. “we won't be sleeping anyways.” 

[darkmatilda]

𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: two years ago, completely by accident, you helped catch a serial killer. now, as mysterious events start to pile up around you, you begin to suspect that someone is after you, seeking revenge. terrified, you're willing to do anything to save yourself—even if it means reaching out to your ex, who wants nothing more to do with you.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: [these warnings only apply to part 1!] spencer reid x criminal(thief)female!reader, stalking, mention of dismembered bodies, serial killer targeting women, mention of abduction, mention of mental issues and addiction of the victim, reader is kinda morally grey

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 6k

𝐚/𝐧: HUGE THANKS to my beloveds from the server who have been listening to me yap about this fic for the past few days!!! a few of my dear girls show up here as characters, in this part it’s @esote-rika i hope you like the role i chose for you <33

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄

You hadn’t dreamt about it for almost a year now.

Before, that image had returned to your dreams regularly. A small, wooden vacation cabin in the woods—far enough from the bustle of the city to feel like a retreat, but close enough to avoid the unease that comes with complete isolation. An operation that had required you and your then-partners to meticulously study the owner’s weekly routine, gathering as much information about him as possible. There was no pressure of time—it was a place for vacations or lazy weekends, not for everyday living.

You had no trouble breaking in without even damaging the lock. You had your methods. The owner was due to arrive soon and discover that the painting in the small living room was gone. You wondered if he even understood its historical value. Wealthy people often liked to fill their properties with expensive works of art to catch the eyes of their guests and dazzle them with their price tags. But they rarely cared about the context or the circumstances of their creation. Often, if the artist was foreign, they could barely pronounce their name.

You liked labeling every person you robbed as ignorant. It gave you more motivation.

Your partners had immediately located the painting, while you started looking around the interior yourself. There could be more valuable items—jewelry or antique furniture. Once, during a robbery, you had been about to retreat when you found a hidden door leading to a basement, which turned out to be practically a vault. That year, you booked your dream vacation.

This time, you were heading down the stairs again, shining your flashlight ahead. The beam of light didn’t fall on a bust, a leaning painting, or an Art Deco dresser. It illuminated the battered face of a woman, bound as though she weren’t a living being, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.

The waitress set a plate of pancakes in front of you, but you suddenly regretted ordering them. Your stomach was still in knots after seeing that image again in your dreams. You’d gone out for breakfast because you had no plans for the day and didn’t want to spend it entirely cooped up in your apartment. You adjusted yourself in the leather booth. The place had a 90s vibe, with its black-and-white checkered floor, red seating, and curly straws poking out of milkshakes topped with double whipped cream.

A cop slid into the booth next to yours with a sigh, ordering waffles with bacon. Out of habit, you tensed up slightly. As a member of the criminal underworld—a thief and active dealer of antique goods—you weren’t a fan of even fleeting interactions with people who carried handcuffs on their belts. You much preferred gold bracelets.

"...abandoned body parts of an unidentified woman were found along the shore of Neabsco Creek in Prince William County. This exceptionally brutal crime immediately sparked panic within the local community, following a series of murders that had occurred here just two years earlier. It was right on this riverbank that the limbs of the last victim of the killer were found before his capture…”

“The Waterside Butcher,” the cop to your left muttered, mouth full of waffles. “I don’t know if you heard, but that guy’s a real piece of work. Fuckin' psycho. But it ain’t him now—they got him locked up good.”

Thank you for sharing that unsolicited nugget of information I didn’t ask for, officer, you thought, as you remained silent. You didn’t want to engage in any confrontational interactions with the police. In fact, you couldn’t physically speak—you had a chunk of pancake stuck in your mouth, swelling up like a soaked sponge, and you had to spit it out onto your plate.

The cop shot you a look of disgust before turning his attention back to the waitress, bragging about his knowledge of the crime details. He even mispronounced the killer’s name. Robert Miller, not Roger. The man whose vacation cabin you broke into two years ago. The one whose basement you found a woman imprisoned in. The one you reported to the police, even though that meant exposing what you’d been doing in his house. Your case quickly ended up in the hands of the BAU profilers, who used your testimony and connected it to a serial killer they had been hunting for a long time, one who always dumped his female victims along the banks of water sources.

They even offered you a deal. Your testimony, and in exchange, you were only charged with one burglary, one attempted theft. They completely ignored the dozens of others that had happened before.

So, it could be said that you helped them catch The Waterside Butcher.

The cop was right about one thing. Thirteen murders, and he was locked up for the next few lifetimes. So, it had to be either a copycat or...

But if someone like that escaped from prison, would the public even know about it?

Your nightmare hit again. Right on that night. A bad feeling?

Your phone rang.

"Hey, Mrs. Hemingway," you greeted your older neighbor from the floor below, the one you’d swapped numbers with when you were helping her settle in after her hip surgery and taking care of her poodle. You were surprised she was calling you. "Everything okay?"

"Sweetheart, I told you to just call me Erika," she said gently on the other end, her voice carrying a note of tension. "I’m just calling to let you know you're flooding my floor again. Haven’t you fixed that sink yet?"

"Shit," you muttered under your breath. "I’ll be there in a sec. Sorry, Mrs...Erika, that this happened again."

You left the almost untouched pancakes on the plate and walked out of the restaurant, heading toward your building. You’d been moving around a lot because of your line of work, and this place had been home for maybe three months now. For about two weeks, something strange had been happening with the sink in your kitchen. You’d return late at night to find the floor completely flooded, leaking down to the apartment below, where Mrs…Erika lived. It happened every few days, almost regularly. After the second time, you hired someone to fix it, but he said everything was fine with the faucet. Either you kept forgetting to turn it off, or…you just couldn’t come up with a better explanation.

Oddly enough, that wasn’t what occupied your mind on your way back to the apartment.

Your thoughts were consumed by the murder case. You couldn’t help it; everything related to it made you uneasy. During the trial, you’d heard all the details of the crimes he’d committed. You’d seen photos of torsos of women, abandoned in various places, along with their legs and arms. You’d listened as the handsome profiler explained the psychology behind it all. How he lowered his voice with a comforting care, assuring you there was no chance he would ever get out of prison. You nodded, having no reason not to believe him. It was him who proposed the deal you took – keeping your earlier crimes under wraps in exchange for your testimony.

You made a mental note to check in on how Rebekah was doing later. You were the one who saved her, though you didn’t particularly like using that word—after all, you’d ended up there by accident. You kept in touch, but it was hard to call it friendship. You were bound by the situation in which she almost became just another limbless victim. You didn’t have much in common, but she had struggled a lot after that event, and you wanted to make sure she was okay. It was kind of like womanhood. 

The first thing you did when you got back to your small but quite stylishly furnished apartment in a nondescript neighborhood was to turn off that damn sink. And then, you offered a heartfelt apology to Erika. In return, you promised to walk her poodle for a week.

“No need, darling,” she assured you, standing in the doorway of her apartment. She was an elegant woman, a fashion enthusiast. Dressed in a gray plaid skirt and a cleverly cut blouse with a tie at the neckline, large black earrings dangled from her ears. Sometimes when she went out, she wore a matching black bowler hat. Behind her, the poodle was frantically wagging its tail, excited to see you. “The doctor recommended I get plenty of walking. I take Coco out every day at eight for an hour. Just the cost for the flooded ceiling is fine.”

You agreed, silently promising yourself that you’d order her a massive bouquet of flowers in the coming days. But for now, you headed back to your apartment, walking straight to the bedroom where you kept a locked chest of drawers… and inside, an album of photos. And within those photos, a substantial amount of cash. Since your income didn’t come from legitimate sources, you steered clear of banks like the plague. You counted out the sum you planned to give Erika—more than she probably expected. But before you could lock the chest again, your fingers automatically grabbed the album. It wasn’t just money in there; you liked to capture moments in photos, and you had plenty of them. You always took them with you when you moved.

The first page showed several pictures from your early childhood, chubby cheeks, dreamy eyes. You quickly turned the page, then another…

Your fingers clenched tightly, even though your mind hadn’t fully processed what you’d just seen. You shook your head, thinking it was just your imagination playing tricks on you.

A photo of a little girl on her first bike. Her face should have been expressing joy, a toothless smile. Instead, all that was there was white, emptiness. A cut-out section.

With furrowed brows, you continued flipping through the album, almost in a trance. If every photo had missing pieces like that, it would’ve been easier to understand. But this was just one photo out of hundreds, one little girl without a face…

A graduation photo. You should have been smiling, hugging your friends. But your face was missing. Your breath caught in your chest. A trip with friends—your face cut out. A beach day, devoid of your face. Not every photo had been altered, but almost every stage of your life captured in that album had at least one case like this. It was as if someone was trying to erase you completely.

You stopped at the point where you had stopped taking as many photos. The last few were from your previous relationship. It hadn’t lasted long, but you had particularly enjoyed taking pictures of Spencer Reid, the profiler who had worked on your case. His brown hair, wide eyes in surprise because he hadn’t known you were sneaking up on him with the camera, the dimple in his cheek when he smiled, filled several good pages. There weren’t many good photos. He looked amazing in spontaneous shots, but in posed ones, his smile was always awkward, stiff.

That photo wasn’t one of your favorites. It had been taken by some stranger during your little vacation in Rome. Spencer had been wearing a light linen shirt, his arm wrapped around your waist. You remembered exactly how you’d stood on your tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek, only to cringe a moment later—having just slathered him with sunscreen, you tasted that bitter aftertaste in your mouth. A smile flashed across his face at that, and he adjusted his arm around you, smoothing your heat-fluffed hair behind your ear. So many perfect angles for a picture you could have stared at for hours, but that stranger had only snapped one. You both looked like an engaged couple who had never spoken to each other before, and to make matters worse, it looked like the family expected six kids from you both.

Your face had been cut out of it.

You slammed the album shut and tossed it into the drawer. A gust of wind blew the money meant for Erika onto the floor, but you didn’t care. What did you care about? There was nothing in your mind. A temporary, filling emptiness, growing with every beat of your heart.

Your body moved toward the window on its own, discreetly peering behind the curtain. A black car pulled away from the driveway, followed by a red one, and then a gray one. Could it be…?

No, you hadn’t looked at that album for several days. At least not to review the pictures. They might have been damaged before, and you only noticed it now. You didn’t know which version of events scared you more.

The voice of the news anchor played in your head like a true-crime podcast, describing a recently discovered body with far more gruesome details than in reality. The return of The Waterside Butcher, the one you helped catch. A break-in at your apartment (you hadn’t done it yourself, had you, in your sleep?) almost at the same time?

A twist of fate? A stupid coincidence?

For a moment, you paced around the apartment, thinking. Robert Miller was a serial killer of women, whose capture had been made possible by a woman who broke into his home. If—purely hypothetically—he escaped prison, wouldn’t he be driven by a certain kind of hatred directed specifically at her? A desire to destroy her, more important than anything else?

But that was absurd. You hadn’t cut ties with the case, but surely someone would have informed you if he had escaped. Though…Spencer had been your source of information, and you hadn’t spoken to him since your breakup, over a year ago. You hadn’t been in touch at all since then. So maybe…?

You realized you were standing in something wet. The floor was still flooded from a tap that had been left running.

For the second time this week.

The self-turning sink, this tension, this dream, the cut-out faces, the next murder.

Another brutally killed woman left on the riverbank.

The thought was improbable, yet it refused to leave you alone. It was far more likely that you were dealing with some deranged copycat—after all, it wasn’t uncommon for serial killers to have their admirers. However, that prospect didn’t fill you with nearly as much dread as the idea of being in the crosshairs of this particular man. 

You had to find out if there was even the slightest chance that he was out there, free.

*

“Hands up and turn around, slowly.”

Quick disclaimer—you and Spencer Reid didn’t break up on the most peaceful terms.

Aiming at your head was a bit much, though.

Without a hint of fear, you calmly closed the cabinet in his kitchen, from which you had just taken out a package of brown sugar cinnamon Pop Tarts. You immediately shoved one into your mouth, chewing the sweet bite while staring into the eyes of your ex, who was pointing a gun at you from about four steps away. His hair was longer than you remembered, and there was a trace of stubble around his mouth that caught you off guard. Or rather, how good he looked with it.

“I preferred your old place,” you declared, leaning back against one of the kitchen cabinets. Another bite of Pop Tarts, and a crumb fell onto your clothes. Oops. “Do you even have a microwave here? I could warm this up.”

“How did you get in here?” he asked, clearly irritated.

He still hadn’t lowered the gun, and you were starting to suspect he wasn’t exactly thrilled to see you.

“It’s always how did you get in here?” you sighed, rolling your eyes. “Never what’s up? how are you? your hair looks amazing, did you know that? and that outfit?”

"You wouldn’t be yourself without all that pretentious talk, huh?" he scoffed, finally easing up a bit. His stiff posture, caused by holding the gun, relaxed, and after a beat, he lowered it and tucked it into his waistband. He accidentally pulled back part of his black blazer, revealing a dark purple shirt underneath.

You shoved the rest of the snack into your mouth, wiped your hands off, and swallowed.

"I’d be boring without it. And you wouldn’t be yourself without this overdramatization, right? Aiming at my head like I’m some criminal..."

"You broke into my apartment," he interrupted, folding his arms. It was evening, and if you hadn’t turned on the light before coming in, the place would have been drowning in cold darkness. A little of it slipped through the window that wasn’t fully covered. "I think that’s a pretty good reason to point a gun at someone. So what are you doing here?"

"You were right," you said softly, helplessly spreading your arms. "The path of crime doesn't lead to anything good. I should have listened to you, thrown it all away, and become a model citizen."

Spencer gently nodded, listening to your words. Then, he let out a laugh.

"And seriously?"

"Was I not convincing enough?"

"Did you get yourself into something again and need someone to cover your back? Because there's no better alibi than the words of an FBI agent?"

"Stop acting like I ever forced you into it. You did it on your own."

"Because I didn't want my girlfriend ending up in prison."

A tired sigh escaped you, not expecting it to take just three minutes from the start of your reunion to begin bringing up things from your relationship. Well, the fact that you even got together two years ago still seemed incredibly absurd and enigmatic, especially to outsiders. Let's be honest. An FBI agent and a criminal caught during a break-in for theft. Then, still a criminal, though with good intentions.

You couldn’t help that you didn’t see an end to that career, and you were pretty sure Spencer secretly hoped you'd give it up. During the less than six months of your relationship, you felt as though you were constantly on the police radar, even though he’d never turn you in. What’s more, once or twice, he vouched that you were somewhere else when you weren’t. To put it simply, he gave you a fake alibi.

That was roughly when everything started falling apart, as it slowly dawned on him that he couldn’t change you. Things got even stormier, and one day, after one of the many unpleasant exchanges of words at that stage, you just walked out, slamming the door behind you, and you hadn’t seen each other until now.

 End of the story.

"Listen," Spencer began after a moment of silence. "You broke in here for a reason, and I highly doubt it’s to reminisce. I should just tell you to leave, but out of some remnants of respect for you, I’ll let you say what this is really about."

"Oh, look at you, how gracious," you scoffed bitterly. Remnants of respect. He was right, though. You hadn't come there to reminisce; you were only interested in getting an answer to one specific question. You cleared your throat. "I’m assuming you’ve heard about the discovery on the shore of Neabsco Creek?"

Spencer took a step forward, furrowing his brows slightly. He still kept more than a necessary distance, as if you were the one pointing a gun at him.

"Your assumption is correct," he replied slowly, cautiously. "I just don’t understand the purpose. Do you have any information related to the case?"

Although it didn’t quite fit the topic, the corner of your mouth twitched.

"Are you hoping I’ll help you catch another serial killer?" you asked, immediately shaking your head. "No, I don’t know anything that could be useful to you. But I do have some bad feelings about it."

You saw him gently press his lips together in thought. Almost immediately, he understood where you were going with this and gave a slight nod. His eyes were still analyzing you carefully and distrustfully. You also noticed how carefully he chose his words, as he always did in the presence of someone who could mean trouble.

"Spencer," you said his name for the first time during this conversation, pausing for a moment to think about how it felt on your tongue. You’d almost forgotten. "Is Robert Miller still in prison?"

 "He murdered thirteen women, of course he’s still in prison," he replied with conviction. "And he’ll stay there forever. The body we found... the modus operandi is the same, but only because we’re probably dealing with a copycat."

 "Copycat," you repeated. "And not an accomplice?"

"He didn’t have an accomplice. We figured that out during the investigation."

 "Are you sure?"

 "What exactly are you getting at?" he asked, his voice tinged with genuine confusion, his brow furrowed deeply.

You set the Pop Tarts box down on the counter. You’d thought about it a lot. Few knew about your involvement in the investigation, it hadn’t been made public, just like the exact circumstances surrounding the capture of the suspect. He, however, knew. He’d seen your face in court, heard your name. The entire previous day you had been obsessed with the fact that he probably had the right to correspondence in prison. He might have found a way to inform his potential accomplice about your identity, convincing him to take revenge on his behalf.

"Someone's stalking me," you said casually, as if you were telling him about what you had for lunch that day. "It started right when that murder happened. Just before the body was found on the shore. Someone...cut my face out of photos in my album."

Spencer stood still for a long moment. A look of concern briefly flashed across his face, but it was quickly replaced by something else—skepticism.

"No offense," he began, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "but are you sure it’s not just someone from your circles?"

"Even if it is, so what? I'm still being stalked."

"Then, that’s not my problem”

Okay, that was cold.

“If someone from my circles wanted to kill me, they’d just do it. They wouldn’t be sneaking into my apartment, cutting my face out of photos, and turning the water on in my sink. The Waterside Butcher, as the media's calling him,” you tried to sound calm and logical, but your heart began to race as the memory from the dream you’d had two days ago—and the one that came to you last night—hit you. This time, however, you hadn’t found Rebekah in the basement of the house, but yourself. “Something’s not right. I can feel it. You guys should look into this. I mean, BAU. But not as a copycat. As someone connected to Miller."

You could see Spencer mulling over your words. His jaw tightened slightly as he processed what you said.

“Are you getting any real threats?” he asked. “Or is it just a busted sink and…”

“It’s not busted! Someone’s turning it on!” you cut him off, irritation creeping into your voice. “And not just someone—a serial killer I put in prison.”

“And who’s still there.”

You could feel yourself losing track of your own thoughts. Well, you’d barely slept the night before, and your brain wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders.

“Or his accomplice,” you corrected yourself.

“Or?” Spencer picked up on it, raising an eyebrow.

You shrugged, frustrated by his calmness.

"Well, sometimes you catch the wrong person," you said uncertainly.

Spencer exhaled deeply, briefly staring at the ceiling. You didn’t see the seriousness, the readiness to act, that you’d expected when you showed up at his apartment. There was no declaration that they would take another look at the case, maybe reach out to Miller again and try to get more information from him. The thought crossed your mind—if something like this had happened two years ago, would he have reacted with more urgency?

“I interrogated him two years ago,” he began. “Personally, for many hours, even days. He confessed to everything, nothing in his behavior suggested he was trying to manipulate us. He had a motive—he selected his victims based on their resemblance to his mother, whom he also murdered by pushing her off a boat during a family trip. At the time, it was considered an accident.”

As he spoke, memories of the courtroom and the police station resurfaced, when everything was just starting to come to light. And as he slowly moved closer to you, probably unknowingly, you also recalled the first time you really interacted, when he drove you home. You weren’t innocent, but that day, you had heard some truly horrifying details of the crime, and you felt a distinct unease. For the first time, you talked about something other than the investigation. I’m like Robin, but not like Hood. I rob the rich, but I don’t give to the poor you said, making him laugh.

"Our profile didn't include a partner. Trust me, we've handled plenty of cases where there were two or more perpetrators, but this isn't one of them. One person is responsible for this," he continued, trying to catch your eye, making his words more direct, wanting to make sure they reached you. "If someone's stalking you, it's probably not even connected to this case. And normally, I'd recommend you report it to the police... but I get the feeling that's not really an option."

You scoffed, because he was right.

"Highly unlikely they'd do anything about it. You know, the faucet could always be broken, and the photos...that can be explained away," you said, sitting up suddenly.

"Are you calling me paranoid?" you asked sharply.

"You always have to label things so harshly," he muttered, shaking his head. "No, I’m not saying that. I’m just suggesting that the previous murder and the media panic could have influenced how you're perceiving things, making you more susceptible to suggestion. Your mind has connected it with past traumatic events and added..."

"So, you're saying I'm paranoid. Just in scientific terms," you shot back.

Spencer sighed in frustration.

"Call it whatever you want."

For a moment, you just stared at him in silence, a rush of angry words pushing at the back of your throat, but you realized they didn’t make any sense. Why had you even assumed from the start that he would believe you? Leaving aside the fact that your argument was admittedly a bit stretched, the truth was, you weren’t the person he chose to trust anymore.

You briefly lowered your gaze, letting out a sigh, then lifted it back up as you got closer. Spencer tensed, almost moved to pull away, but quickly realized you weren’t threatening him. You simply reached for his purple shirt, slipping something into the tiny pocket on his chest.

"My current phone number," you explained, tapping that spot on his chest. "In case you find out anything. Oh, and one last thing. Do you remember what shape my birthmark is?"

He tilted his head, surprised by the question, the sudden shift in topic. Without waiting for an answer, you pulled at your shirt slightly, exposing a patch of skin just below your collarbone.

"It’s in the shape of pi, like you once pointed out." It hadn't reminded you of that at all before, just a vague shape, but ever since he'd mentioned it, you'd seen it only that way. And from then on, every time he kissed you, he'd always lingered at that spot for a moment longer—it was his personal, favorite point. You let go of your shirt, and Spencer immediately locked eyes with you.

"I just wanted to make sure you remembered," you added, before turning to leave. "In case I end up dismembered on some shoreline and they need to identify my body."

Spencer’s mouth fell open, unable to say a word.

"You knew it very well," you added casually as you made your way out.

You didn’t need him to escort you. You had gotten there on your own, too. 

*

Three days later, when poor Erika was flooded once again, you decided to take action. You contacted the right people to have the locks in your apartment changed and to secure the place in a way that would make breaking in nearly impossible—at least for an average burglar. You knew, however, that someone with the right skills, like you, could still get in. With difficulty, but it was possible.

You also made sure to refresh your knowledge of handling a gun. 

And you called Rebekah.

You didn’t like scaring her, but you preferred her to stay vigilant. If someone was targeting you, they might just as well try to go after her too. The problem was, she wasn’t answering your calls, despite you trying every hour throughout the day. Shortly after being freed from the murderer’s grasp, she hadn’t taken up any work, and since you were doing relatively well, you had been supporting her financially. Recently, however, she had managed to find a steady job, and that could explain why she wasn’t responding.

Spencer was right about one thing—you were slowly becoming paranoid. That’s exactly why, later that evening, you decided to head over to her address to make sure everything was okay. It wasn’t just about outside threats anymore. It was simply that… Two years was a long time, but not when it came to rebuilding a life after being abducted by a serial killer. Those years had been especially hard for her—there was the added struggle of addiction—and you just wanted the reassurance that she hadn’t done anything to herself. At least then, you’d be able to sleep more soundly—as much as the circumstances would allow.

Her apartment was located in a truly awful neighborhood, on the second floor of a stairwell covered in graffiti. You knocked on the door several times, pausing between knocks, trying not to panic or come across as aggressive—you didn’t want to scare her.

"Rebekah, are you there?" you called out when no one answered.

You spent a moment leaning against a spray-painted cock on the wall, letting out a sigh as you reached into the pocket of your jacket. The lock on her door was a simple one, requiring only the most basic tools—tools you carried out of habit. You made a mental note to send someone over to replace it.

Even if she wasn’t home, you wanted to take a look around and gauge how she was doing based on the state of the apartment. It wasn’t exactly ethical, but sometimes our surroundings say more about us than words ever could. Besides, there was a good chance she’d never even know you were there.

You stepped inside, calling her name again. The light was already on. Her jacket was hanging on the coat rack, suggesting she was home—but it was also possible she’d just worn a different one. You slipped a wad of cash into the pocket of her jacket. She’d find it later and probably think she’d just forgotten it was there.

The interior had dark green walls, and the apartment consisted of three rooms: a modest living room, a tiny bedroom with just a bed and wardrobe, and a bathroom you’d never been inside before. When you glanced into it, your face reflected in the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. You looked really sleep-deprived.

Finally, you headed to the bedroom, clinging to the faint hope of finding her asleep in bed. The fact that all the lights were on worried you—if she’d gone to work, she would have turned them off. Anyone mindful of their wallet would’ve turned them off!

The bedroom door creaked softly as it closed behind you, leaving just a narrow gap that provided a sliver of a view into the living room, specifically the apartment entrance. That was when you saw it swing wide open.

At first, you wanted to leave the bedroom, assuming it was Rebekah and that you could greet her. But it wasn’t the petite, feminine figure of your short friend—it was a tall man, or so you guessed from his stature, despite the hood obscuring his face. Instinctively, you leapt back from the partially open door, making sure you were out of sight.

Heavy footsteps cut across the apartment, heading, by the sound of it, toward the kitchen area. There, they paused for a moment.

You didn’t even try to convince yourself it was some friend of hers dropping by for a visit. Deep down, you already knew—instinctively felt—who it was. And that thought paralyzed you so completely that, despite the gun tucked under your jacket, you quietly slid open the wardrobe door and squeezed yourself inside.

The door creaked as it moved, and you cursed silently.

Whoever it was, you hoped they were too focused on whatever they were searching for to have heard it.

You listened closely to the footsteps in the room next door, your mind spinning with one relentless question: Where was Rebekah in all this? Was she at work, completely unaware that someone was in her apartment during her absence? You tried to recall the last time the two of you had spoken. Certainly not in the past few days—perhaps not even in the past week.

You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing your breathing to quiet, to steady.

Theoretically, her apartment could’ve been empty for days now.

But who was this man?

The footsteps suddenly grew louder. The bedroom door creaked open. You drew in a sharp breath and froze, halting your breathing altogether. You had no idea how much the tight, dark confines of the wardrobe muffled sound.

The footsteps stopped.

You could only imagine the figure standing in the doorway, his sharp gaze sweeping the room, taking in every detail. Did he sense someone else might be here? He couldn’t know for certain. But it was possible—likely even—that he subconsciously felt another presence, much like you did in your own home every single day.

Fragments of the nightmare that had haunted you over the past few days came rushing back. It felt as if you were descending those stairs into the basement again.

And then a smell wafted through the air—faint but distinct.

It was the same scent you’d inhaled back then.

Two years had passed, but you still remembered that mixture of dust, decay, and sweat.

Were you really smelling it now? Or was it just a cruel projection of your terrified mind?

The footsteps began to retreat.

You listened with your eyes closed, straining every nerve to track the sound. Your legs felt weak, and it took everything in you not to slide down the back wall of the wardrobe.

The sound of the apartment door slamming shut echoed through the silence. Even then, you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

And then your phone rang.

The sudden, sharp sound shattered the fragile quiet, making you choke on a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Your fingers acted on their own, quickly answering just to silence the noise.

“Hello?” someone said hesitantly, your name hanging in the air like a question. “...It’s Spencer. I’m calling because... something’s happened. And you need to know.”

No.

You tilted your head back, squeezing your eyes shut as if that could block out the reality creeping in.

The silence on your end must have encouraged him to keep talking. You heard the faint sound of him swallowing, the nervous gesture twisting your stomach into knots.

“Robert Miller escaped from prison”

You pressed the phone to your face, even though it was already on speaker. Words tangled in your mind, refusing to form. Spencer said your name twice more, his voice edged with concern, before you finally forced yourself to speak.

“You need to come here,” you croaked, your voice barely recognizable. “Please.”

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎

taglist: @she-wont-miss @mggslover @nyeddleblog @dylanobrienswife0420 @wmoony

@heddgie @khxna @marauder-exe-old @yujyujj @charleyreid @kitty-kai @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @beesin03 @misserabella @re1dsb1xch @trulymadlydarling @cynbx @penelopegarciaismygf @nachrosas @angellic4l @awordsmith

[ramonathinks]

RAISE THE STAKES.

being a therapist was hard enough without the leader of an infamous group becoming your patient or to answer your questions, sylus has a few requests.

(18+, no minors! no blank accounts!) inappropriate relationships, patient!slyus, therapist!reader, munch slyus, oral and female masturbation, slight pussy inspection, dirty talk. exhibitionism, dry humping, word count: 3k... short and sweet

tagging: @xmiisuki @sunasbon @sugugasm <3

There was something clinical and plain about your office — though technically you were a type of doctor — the decor screamed hospital more than a comfortable place to tell your deepest darkest secrets. Faint pale blue walls with littered old stickers from the previous child therapist and even the stench of crayons … not to mention the floor tiles, squared with an iced blue paint that made the room both childish and clinical. Something fitting for a child hospital or even a former child psych ward.

That was the reason you decided for this particular appointment you’d switch rooms to somewhere more adult and that hopefully your boss would let you stay there. The pristine polished marble floors and white walls, two empty lush chairs and a small brown wooden table with magazines with two waters sitting on top. This was your dream room and one you felt you deserved. You were the most decorated person on your floor — top of your class in your undergrad and graduate class, internships at major places, yet you settled for here. Settled. It was smack dabbed in the middle of a city that needed you most. A dangerous city… but somewhere you felt like you could actually make a difference. 

Sitting in the chair towards the window you awaited for Sylus Qin – a name that sent more than enough shivers up your spine but who’s name spiked your curiosity, especially seeing it written for a first appointment directly with you. 

He walked in, his presence loud and alarming from the moment he stepped into the door, looking at you before he sat down in the seat closest to the door. You inhaled, the deep smell of metallic and what you must’ve guessed was gunpowder filled your nostrils. “You’re late,” You told him with a small smile. “And for your first appointment nevertheless.” Your tone is light and playful, you only hoped that he understood that. 

He arches a white brow and slouches back on the couch, it was obviously too small for his broad body and long legs but he still stretched them so they were nearing yours. “A meeting held me up.” He waited for some form of reaction before he looked away from you, probably now disappointed when your face remained blank.

You cleared your throat, “I’m quite sure that you didn’t come here on your own volition, so why are you here? I know that you of all people couldn’t have been forced.” You crossed your legs, watching his eyes glance at them.

“Two nuisances…” He grumbles, his face scrunched into a deadly scowl but his crimson eyes remain gentle as he looks at you. “It seems that I’ve been even more aggressive as of late.” He shrugs his shoulders as if he disagrees with the diagnosis. 

“Well… what made them come to that conclusion?” You watched him open his mouth to answer before he paused, thinking something. It takes a while before he speaks again and when he does he shocks you.

“What do I get if I answer any of your silly little questions…?” There’s a huskiness to his voice, a rough edge as he speaks. His eyes are trained on you, following you as your body sways a bit. 

You quirk a brow, “You want a reward for being…compliant?” You straighten your posture, looking at him with slightly wide eyes, it was the first time someone asked for something so ridiculous. “You tell me what you want—” You start before he interrupts you.

“Your panties.” Curt. Simple. Straightforward. You blinked, staring at this man and questioning how you managed to get yourself in this position. 

 Was the money worth it? That was the question roaming around your head as you just stared at him. How could he ask you such a thing with a serious face expression. “My panties? That would tempt you to answer the questions truthfully?” The skirt you were wearing felt a thousand times shorter and the room felt too warm for you to ignore the wetness you felt between your —

Your eyes twitched. A conversation alone, brief… and your panties were drenched, sticky to your folds. It would do wonders for your career to have gotten the man himself… the big leader of a malicious group to be less violence. So you sigh, “You want them now—”

“As an act of good faith,” He says smoothly. “Let’s put all our cards out on the table…How about you at least take them off so I know you’re being truthful to me.” 

You sucked your teeth, debating with yourself on if you really should do this or not. Your career is on the line regardless of each decision. You could just deny him, tell him off and force him out of your office. But your body seemed to be screaming at you to just do it. You hadn’t had sex nor a true orgasm in more than a year… possibly two and yet with him sitting in front of you, you felt as if you were close.

Your mouth no longer produces saliva and your throat dry as you slide them down your legs; you held them and watched a smirk take over his face. You couldn’t believe yourself honestly, this wasn’t something you’d ever expect yourself to do. While you weren’t exactly a good girl, you had standards… you couldn’t believe you were being so trashy. Yet the excitement in your body spilled out of your center and with his eyes glued there while you removed your underwear, your body shook.

“Already the air smells so better in here.” He chuckles and you feel embarrassment cloud your mind. “To answer your question from before… Apparently they believe I’m in a foul mood since I’ve been less tolerant on certain things that in the past, I was more passive on. They’ve expressed to me that with the rough ways I’ve been handling business has grown rather…impulsive.”

“Do you agree with that?” You recross your legs. “I’ve always heard that you were impulsive and honestly, I never heard anyone say you were passive… Do you think you’ve ever been passive? Do you think you can paint me a picture of yourself?”

He reaches out his hand and for a moment you’re confused before you realize he’s asking for his reward. Handing him the panties, you see him sniff them and it makes your insides quiver. This man… he was too much for you. 

“I see myself as…” He thinks, his eyebrows furrowed, he taps his foot on the ground. “I often find myself bored and find myself indulging in self destructive behavior... taking on more than I can and getting myself injured.” He scoffs. “I guess this particular time they're talking about is when I knew I was being set up but still decided to go alone without informing them - Luke and Kieran, I mean.”

“So they care about you?” You ask, mentally taking notes of every word and ever ounce of movement and even taking account of his voice and tone.

“Sure.” His voice has a slight tremble to it. “We’ve been together for longer than I can remember being without them…” Then he’s closed off again, acting as if he revealed too much to you. His crimson eyes trace up your legs again, he bites his lips.

You recrossed your legs. “Anyway…” You cough. “Is there a thrill in putting yourself in these situations? Or is there a need to demonstrate that your reputation is correct… to stop or limit people from defying you?” You are met with silence and a sinister glint in Sylus’ eyes. “Sylus? Do you need me to repeat the question?”

“I answered some for your panties. For this next question, you’ll have to do something else for me to answer it… unless you want a lie…or more silence.” His roaming eyes told you all that you needed to know, this request would be more.

A scowl on your face, “My panties weren’t enough?” You’re close to rolling your eyes at him, you want to hate him but it’s something in those eyes that keeps you from it. After this you knew that you’d decline any other visits from him, you might as well entertain him— no, you want to slap yourself for even thinking that thought. 

“I wanna see you cum, pet that pretty pussy and put a show on for me.” He says and you gasp, full blown as you stare at him. “C’mon kitten, don’t be so coy.” His eyes darkened but still his tone remained playful; slick gathered at your thighs and it’s almost as if he scented it with how quick his eyes snapped to your skirt.

“Sylus, the panties were already inappropriate enough. I can lose my license—” You stammer, your voice small and timid as you speak. This man… would be the death of you.

“I won’t let that happen.” 

You swallow, staring hard in his eyes. Looking in his eyes made you want to bend to his every whim and to continue. Your thighs spread a bit because honestly, you wanted this. “Fine.” You relinquished every ounce of self respect you had for yourself and spread your legs completely apart. A slap of cool air brushes against your bare skin, your shutter but spread your folds. You rub at your clit, staring in those addicting eyes. 

He drinks in the sight of you — dripping and oozing out spilling to the chair, he straightens himself, his eyes now locked between your thighs. Your clit is hard and throbbing knowing that his eyes are on your most delicate parts. You circle your entrance, collecting the slick that sits there before you dip it inside – teasing both you and him. You feel the warmth of yourself as you stroke your finger in and out of your walls, sloppy noises echoing around the room. Your thighs tremble and breathing heavy, he briefly glances at your face and back to the dripping sight below.  Your face scrunched up in a sense of pure ecstasy, you pop your finger out of your cunt and you put a finger in your mouth before rubbing your clit again, your thighs bucking and your hips humping upwards. 

His feet tap against the floor watching another finger join the one already knuckle deep inside of you, his fingers twitch looking at how wet and creamy your fingers are pumping in and out. “There’s a thrill… and excitement that comes with doing dangerous things…” His voice trails off, your mouth agape spilling little moans. “It feels good… it’s never a sense of pride, it’s more of a –” Using your other hand, you rub fast at your clit at the same time your fingers thrust inside deeper, hitting another spot that makes a bit of cream drip under you. “It’s more of a simple pleasure, just something to take the edge off of life. It’s a high… c’mon kitten, you’re killing me there. Need to see your face when you cum.” 

Your stomach sucks in at the words and you whine, leaking with a deep orgasm and deep breathing. “Ohhhhh!” Cream continues to spill out, you milk yourself more – curling your fingers before you pull them out with a drawn out moan. “Oh, mmm…” You feel so tired, your eyes dropping and a fuzzy brain when you turn your attention back on him. 

“What’s your next request for answering this last question?” You huff, your face flushed and your body trembling. You still tried to cover yourself but he just laughed, full and heartily. 

“I want you to sit on my face.” He’s hard, tapping his foot against the floor again still looking at your creamy pussy. “That’s all.”

“What?” But it shouldn’t surprise you anymore, no matter how much you fought on his demands… you knew you’d give in and you knew how badly you wanted him.

“I want you to sit on my face.” He said again, nonchalantly with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“But… why? Are you trying to make me lose my job? Or are you just insane and don’t care about my livelihood or my dignity?” But really, it didn’t matter, with all you did now… your license was already revoked. 

“Would you rather be a good girl and sit on my lap? Grind yourself on my cock?” It was an enticing offer and you had to mentally stop yourself from taking it up. “Just keep being an obedient little girl like you have been and come sit on my face.” He’s pulling himself from the chair to lie on the floor with a bright smile on his lips. He waited, both of you already knew that you were going to come. 

“First... put your fingers in my mouth.” It makes you jump when he says that but you swallow your nerves and pride, reaching over and letting his tongue work its way through your fingers, his tongue slimy wet and sticky all at once. He groans out at the taste. “Sit.” He says simply. You’d never did this before, your legs trembled just standing above his head and even more when you bent down. 

You hovered over him, a string of your slick dripping over his face before he moved his head to capture it between his tongue with a groan; swirling his tongue in a circular motion as he took in the taste. “So wet…tastes so good.” His voice deep and inviting; sticking his tongue inside then flicks his tongue against your clit and wraps his mouth around it — sucking it before he releases it with a plop sound.  “Sit.” He told you, rubbing his hands across your ass, spreading it so that your pussy would wink at him with a small gushy sound. He firmly sits completely on his face so that his face is covered with you. 

His tongue feels like a thousand tongues when you drip over his face, grinding your hips and circling them. Your knees digging into the floor when you slide forward and back against him.“Sy–lus!” The pad of his tongue licks up your slit, moving to your folds and up to suckle on your throbbing clit. You tug his hair and he buries his face impossibly more into your pussy. Grinding and shaking his face into you before gripping your hips to make you really grind against his mouth.

You squeal with every moment as he uses his tongue to curl deep inside of you – your legs shaking and he slurps. Your toes curl inside of your stuffy shoes and though you can’t see his face because of the skirt you wear, you can feel the devilish smirk against your flesh.

He pulls you up, holds you. A string of his salvia and your slick and cream mixed together on his lips. “Never did ask that question, sweetie.”

“Oh, fuck you Sylus.” He’s sitting you back down, your thighs squeezing his head. His mouth latched to your clit and doing deep sucks with his fingers pressed deep in your thighs. Opening his mouth wider to truly capture all of what he can of your cunt — there’s a deep hunger in every lick he gives, his tongue dragging down from your clit to your slit and back up again. He laps at your folds with nothing else but groans and soft moans that leave both of your mouths.

His tongue swirls on your clit before small soft kisses that make you flinch. Cream and slick trickling down your thighs, your hips continue to hump him — it was as if his face belonged there, his tongue glued to your core and eating up everything you had to offer. Lifting you again, he says, “Want to feel that pretty pussy soaking me… you’d like that won’t you?” He grins, showing all his teeth. You’re quick to nod your head, tears in your eyes… this man was turning you into his plaything and you could care less… there was a thrill to this.

He doesn’t take off his pants much to your disappointment but he helps you to sit on his lap, his lust filled scarlet eyes filled with nothing but desire as he rolls his hips against yours. A small gasp leaves your mouth, your bare cunt soaking his pants and his cock deliciously digging into your core. You wrap your arms around his neck and squeeze your eyes shut, letting him thrust up against your throbbing center. 

Throwing your head back – you rock your hips back and forth against his clothed cock – feeling him press himself harder into you, rubbing himself against your core with deep throaty groans of pleasure leaving his mouth. You try to match his movements, hips bouncing up and down against him with needy whines leaving your lips. You both hiss when his cockhead brushes up against your clit – he rubs himself back and forth repeatedly, slowly while you move faster – chasing that high and in that moment you knew of the pleasure and the high that Sylus mentioned earlier because your body was reveling in it. 

Your stomach swoops at the sticky sounds that come from your pussy and the soft noises he makes. Even with soundproof office spaces, you wouldn’t be surprised if someone heard you both. Lazy grinding becomes thrusting again before downright dirty gyrating of both of you against each other – so close, you were almost there yet again. Pathetic sinful whimpers falling out of your mouth, he presses openmouthed kisses up and down your neck, nibbling on your clavicle. Your back arches, tears falling from your eyes, your pussy sliding against him and his hips stuttering. But he stops, standing you both up. 

“W–why’d you stop?” You’re gasping for air on trembling legs, he holds you close. Small sniffles leaving your mouth, desperate to feel him.

“I believe our time is up, sweetie. Maybe another visit will help unpack more.” He chuckles, walking towards the door. “I’ll return these on my next visit.”

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Sharing a Bed

SUMMARY: When they built the bungalow, they couldn't make an individual bedroom for each person. Or a bed for each person. So, they'll have to choose the person with whom they will share the room... and the bed. And the boy you're secretly dating ends up paired up with you in one of those beds.

CHARACTERS: Riddle Rosehearts; Ace Trappola; Jack Howl; Azul Ashengrotto; Floyd Leech; Lilia Vanrouge

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Flirting; Kiss; Beginning of Relationship

WARNING: Spoilers from Stitch's Tropical Turbulence (JP: Lost in the Book with Stitch ~Midsummer Sea and Spaceship~)

WORD COUNT: An average of 920 words per character.

COMMENTS: Okay, after reading it a second time, what I think Jack meant was: Since they couldn't make individual rooms for everyone, they made one living room big enough for everyone instead. But that's not what I understood the first time, and the way I understood it was more interesting for me to write something about :3

CONTEXT: You two are at the beginning of your relationship and no one knows. Let's also say that Floyd didn't use the back door for the bonfire.

They couldn't make individual rooms in the Bungalow or single beds. They only got materials to make 3 beds big enough for 2 people to sleep in each. And 3 bedrooms where they placed each of the beds. Which meant that 6 people could sleep in pairs on the beds, Grim and Stitch were small enough to sleep well on the couch/armchairs and 1 person had to sleep in the living room with them, maybe on the couch too. And someone comments about you and Grim being a package deal.

Riddle was the first to say that you shouldn't sleep on the couch just because you usually sleep in the same room as Grim.

You should sleep in a bed and, like the gentleman he is, he offered to sleep on the couch instead, more concerned with your well-being than with the possible jealousy he could feel depending on who you slept next to.

“Objection!” Lilia said playfully. Riddle looked at him in surprise. “I should be the one sleeping on the couch. After all, I can easily sleep in a cave and I'm small enough to fit comfortably on the couch. You guys should have the beds. A good night's sleep is important for growth.” He smiled. Riddle may or may not realize it, but Lilia did this mostly for the two of you.

“So how do we divide ourselves between the beds?” Jack asked.

“Firstly, you shouldn't sleep with people you don't feel comfortable with.” Riddle said. He, Jack, and Ace looked mostly at Floyd, but also at Azul.

“Those looks directed at us after such advice are quite hurtful.” Azul says with his performative sadness. “But, Riddle, can I ask why you said you instead of us?” he asks with a smirk.

Riddle couldn't hide his caught reaction. And he's not the type to make excuses, so he was sincere: “In fact, that slipped from me.” he said, slightly blushing “The truth is, I hoped I could be paired with [Y/N].” he looks at you “If you're comfortable with that too, of course.”

You say that you are, and with two shy smiles directed at each other, your pair is decided. The other pairs were Ace with Jack and Azul with Floyd. Both Jack and Ace didn't want to be with either of the other two and Ace used the excuse that Azul and Floyd had known each other for a long time to justify the pairings.

❤️ Bungalow - Yours and Riddle's Bedroom ❤️

He let you in first and closed the door behind him. When you look at him, you realize that he is thinking about something, something that troubles or bothers him. You ask if everything is okay.

“I... I know I was the one who invited you to share the room with me... but...” You ask sadly if he wanted to exchange with someone else. “No, no, no! It’s not that. I will always choose you. I even did it without thinking... and maybe that was the problem... I...” he blushed a little. “I didn't want you... to sleep with anyone else. Although at first I offered to sleep on the sofa, which would consequently mean that you would have to share the bed with someone other than me. *Sigh* Why can't I think straight?” he whispers to himself. “Sorry, I'm straying from the initial question. What bothers me is... I'm sure I'm breaking a rule.”

You ask what rule. You wonder if it could be any Heartslabyul rule? Or maybe from the Queendom of Roses? Or could it be...?

“I think it would fit into a rule of etiquette. My mother is completely against this. We are no longer mere acquaintances, or just friends. These types of things cannot happen before...”

“Marriage?” You ask. He blushes again.

“I know it's too early and we're too young to talk about this but... yes...” You say that if he feels more comfortable swapping with someone else... “NO! That's out of the question! I'm not going to force you to sleep on a sofa and WHOEVER SLEEPS WITH YOU I WILL HAVE THEIR-!” He stutter, and clear his throat. “I mean... this is the best option.” He's embarrassed for shouting in front of you. “My apologies for that.”

You reassure him that it is okay. He wasn't yelling AT you and you know he's still learning to control his anger. You say that all rules have exceptions, and in cases like these, on a desert island where it is already lucky that there are beds, perhaps they are exceptions to certain rules. Sometimes the rules of survival override the rules of etiquette. Maybe if he thinks he's not breaking a rule, but following its exception.

He thinks for a moment “You are right. If we think about it this way, it is also against the rules of etiquette to eat with your hands, but it is foolish to try to impose it when there are no conditions for it. Yes, you are right, we must prioritize our well-being and health.” There's a cute and awkward pause “Um, do you have a preference for the side?”

If you have a preference, he will sleep on the other side, if not and one side is closer to the door, he will sleep on that side. If you ask why this choice, he will say that the most protective person in the relationship is often on the side closest to the door in order to be able to protect their significant other against intruders.

As soon as you lie down and get ready for bed, you might be surprised by how naturally Riddle kisses you on the cheek. “Good night, my rose.” If you look at him, you will see a sweet smile and caring eyes looking back at you.

If you want to return the kiss you can do it on his cheek as well. Lips are still reserved for special occasions only. And he'll press his forehead to yours, your noses almost touching for a moment before you finally turn over to sleep. And if you open your eyes while he's doing it, you'll see the loving glow in his eyes.

You begin to sleep separately and perhaps even in different directions, but sleep and dreams are revealing. Eventually you will begin to unconsciously move closer to each other, until he has his arms around you and your head is resting close to his chest.

If you wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of one of Gantu's robots outside, Riddle won't even process the fact that you're suddenly so close. He goes straight from sleepy mode to protective mode on instinct. His gaze will be completely focused on the closed window and you will feel his arms moving you closer to him. If you make a sound, he'll put a finger to your mouth and whisper a calm shh.

Only after the robot leaves will he realize how he is hugging you. His face will immediately turn red from the blushing and he will move slightly away from you apologizing.

If you show yourself comfortable being so close to him and even more protected, he will end up giving in and letting you continue sleeping together as you were. You will definitely hear his heart beating fast until he finally manages to relax and fall asleep again.

After that, you will start to get used to sleeping like this. He will always wake up before you and wake you up with a kiss on the forehead. “Good morning~ Did you sleep well?”

“Hey, [Y/N] shouldn't stay on the couch just because Grim is going to be in the living room.” Ace says. “At least it doesn't seem fair to me.” he looks at Riddle hoping he would share the same opinion.

“Surprisingly I have to agree with Ace.” Riddle says.

“See? Wait... what do you mean surprisingly?”

“The person who will sleep on the sofa” Riddle continues, ignoring Ace's observation. “should be chosen taking into account who is least likely to have problems sleeping well on it compared to others. This also includes not having a stature too large to fit.”

Everyone looked at Lilia. Who looked behind him as a joke.

“Kehehe. Of course, I have no problem sleeping on the couch. It even looks quite cozy from my point of view. Furthermore I'm going to have two really fun roommates.” Lilia smiled, Stitch smiled back and Grim said something about him being a great roommate. The others looked at you for a moment when he said that to see your reaction.

“So who will be the pairs for the beds?” Floyd asked. “Hey kingyo-chan~ do you want to stay with me?”

“I'd rather sleep on the floor.” Riddle answers. Floyd laughs because he already predicted that.

“Dibs on pairing with [Y/N]!” Ace hurried to say.

“Aw, koebi-chan was my next choice.” Floyd comments.

Seeing his options, Riddle asks if Jack would mind pairing with him. As Jack respects him a lot, he says he doesn't mind and his tail starts to wag, slightly honored that Riddle shows some trust in him. Azul and Floyd end up paired up with each other.

❤️ Bungalow - Yours and Ace's Bedroom ❤️

As soon as you two enter the room and Ace closes the door, he picks you up playfully. And he even tells you not to make any noise as he laughs softly. He takes a few steps and lays you down on the bed.

“So, do you have a favourite side or do I choose?” You or he chooses sides and you lie down. “Ahh~ Finally something that isn't the floor of a cave to sleep in~” he says next to you.

And then you remember something: It wasn't the first time Ace suggested you two sleep in the same bed. The first time was when the riddle locked a collar around he's neck for the first time and he had to sleep in Ramshackle Dorm. And the second was when Azul got Ramshackle Dorm and you had to find another dorm to sleep in. Before going to Savanaclaw, Ace suggested you sleep with him when they commented that Heartslabyul didn't have extra beds. So you comment that he finally got the sleepover he wanted so much.

“Hmm? What do you mean?” He asks. You remind him about the first time he came to sleep in your dorm. “Well, in that case I just didn't want to sleep on the couch. But you made me sleep in it anyway.” he looks at you with a sulking face, and then a smirk. “You know, now that I think about it, maybe I should have let you sleep on the couch. So we were even.”

Then you ask why he didn't try to do that when you were left without your dorm. That was the second time he suggested sharing a bed. And you caught him by surprise for a second.

“Hmm... well... Do you think the Housewarden would let that happen? I can even imagine myself losing my mind over the audacity of being so rude to a visitor. Or Queen of Hearts knows what dorm rule that would break.”

If you remembered correctly, he suggested sharing a bed AFTER Jack offered to shelter you in Savanaclaw.

“And yet you chose Savanaclaw.” he sulks cutely again. “And slept in Leona's room.” he murmured.

You say something like: “Aw, is this jealousy~?” And he rolls over, facing away from you. You get closer to him, saying that he doesn't need to be jealous, and nothing happened, Leona also only did that because he was forced in a way and you needed a place to stay.

“That's why I slept with Deuce.” He tells you. You exclaim a surprised "WHAT?!" and he turns to grab you and make you lie down clinging to him.

“Got ya!” he laughs. “And keep your voice down, remember?” He whispers. “You really fall for it? Ha ha. You should know me better than this.”

He yawns, which makes you yawn too.

“I'm really tired. We should just sleep. You don't mind if we sleep like this, do you~?”

They complained about the heat outside , but inside the bungalow, at night, it's actually a little cool. So it's kinda comfortable to sleep almost hugging each other. So no, you don't mind. Quite the opposite. He kiss you good night, and you two fall asleep.

In the following nights, there are chances that you two make out a little there before going to sleep, if your not too tired. He will never wake up grumpy, because every time he hears the sound of the waves and sees you lying next to him, he realizes that this is the best vacation ever.

Jack wasted no time in speaking his mind: “I don't think [Y/N] should sleep on the couch just because Grim is staying in the living room.”

“Fufufu... Why? Do you think [Y/N] should sleep with you instead?” Lilia asked with a smirk to tease him.

Jack blushed a lot! “Wha-! NO! That wasn't why-” He put his hand on the back of his head. “I mean, I wouldn't mind, but I was just thinking that it's not fair for them to sleep on the couch just because of Grim. We should take into consideration whether [Y/N] have trouble falling asleep here or not.”

“I agree with Jack” Riddle said. “In fact, we must take into account each person's needs in something as important as rest. I believe you would agree as well, Lilia.”

“Yes, you boys are right.” Lilia said with a smile. “In that case, I volunteer to stay on the couch. From what I saw in the cave, I'm the one who has the least problems sleeping.”

“Mendako-chan could sleep on a battlefield, hehehe.” Floyd comments. Lilia also laughs at this observation.

“So...” Jack turns to you, still slightly blushing. “Now that you don't have to sleep on the couch, would you like to pairing with me?” As soon as you say yes, or whisper something like "of course, silly" his tail starts wagging.

“Well, we already know who the first pair for the beds is.” Lilia comments when he sees Jack's tail moving wildly from side to side. He tries to make it stop and you see his ears lower in embarrassment.

Seeing his options, Riddle asks if Ace would mind pairing with him. And also analyzing his options, Ace says he doesn't mind. They are even from the same dorm, maybe it would even be better to pair up like that, you know? Being in the same dorm, people are more comfortable with each other, right? (They got it, Ace)

💛 Bungalow - Yours and Jack's Bedroom 💛

As soon as the two of you enter the room and Jack closes the door, he will ask if you have a preference for which side of the bed you sleep on. When you look at him, you see that he is still trying to contain the wagging of his tail. You remind him that he doesn't need to do that when it's just the two of you.

“Oh!, Ya, force of habit I guess.” And so he lets his tail wag freely. Fortunately there is no furniture or objects that it can hit.

If you have a preference for the side of the bed you want to sleep on, he will sleep on the other side, if not and one side is closer to the door, he will sleep on that side. If you ask why this choice, he will say that he heard that the most protective person in the relationship is often on the side closest to the door in order to be able to protect their significant other against intruders.

“I feel like the weather gets cooler now at night. That’s good.” Jack comments.

In fact, it's nice to rest with cool nights after spending active days in the heat of the beach, and you tell him something like this.

“Y-ya. That to...” He rubs the back of his neck, and you ask what he was thinking then. “Well, I was thinking... about this wolf thing...” he blushes a little “I think you've already noticed that, like wolves, wolf beastmen couples are also quite affectionate.” He can’t look at you right now because he can feel the way you’re looking at him. And so, looking at you will only make him blush even more. “And there's this thing...” he inhales to gain more courage to speak and sighs. “We like to cuddle and sleep together ok...” This is very difficult to admit for a Tsundere at the beginning of a relationship, especially for someone who is not a beast(wo)man.

You probably laugh at how cute he looks when he's so flustered. You ask if that's why he's happy that it getting colder at night. Because if it was too hot you wouldn't be able to sleep cuddled together. He confirms.

“From your laugh and smile, can I guess that you would like that too?” He smiles confidently, his tail wagging.

You open your arms showing that you do, and he wastes no time in hugging you and laying you down in bed with him. He also doesn't wait to start caressing your face with his nose and giving you soft kisses on your cheeks. He tries to control his tail so it doesn't hit anything and make noise.

The first time he kisses your lips will be to say goodnight, but if he's not tired enough yet, this won't be the only goodnight kiss before you fall asleep in each other's arms.

He will always be the first to wake up and wake you up. You will always wake up with his arms around you and a passionate kiss on your cheek. And with him always trying to convince you to get up and not be tempted to stay in bed late. He wants to spend another day with you, for as long as possible.

“Oh, poor [Y/N]” Azul comments. “Being forced to sleep on the couch just because of their companion. That doesn't seem like a very fair deal to me.” He says with a smirk.

“Despite the tone of moral superiority, Azul is right.” Riddle says. “It's not like Grim needs someone to watch over him at night. Or so I hope.”

“Of course not! I'm not a baby!” Grim complains. “I can sleep in a separate room from [Y/N]. The question is: can my hench-human sleep away from me?”

“Ah, I believe [Y/N] will certainly be in good company.” Azul comments, and before anyone could question what he had just said, he continued. “The person who will sleep on the couch should be chosen taking into account who is least likely to have problems sleeping well on it compared to others. This also includes having a physical size that makes them feel comfortable on a couch.”

Everyone looked at Lilia. Who looked behind him as a joke.

“Kehehe. Of course, I have no problem sleeping on the couch. It even looks quite cozy from my point of view. Furthermore I'm going to have two really fun roommates.” Lilia smiled, Stitch smiled back and Grim said something about him being a great roommate. The others looked at you for a moment when he said that to see your reaction.

“So who will be the pairs for the beds?” Floyd asked. “Hey kingyo-chan~ do you want to stay with me?”

“I'd rather sleep on the floor.” Riddle answers. Floyd laughs because he already predicted that.

“Well, in that case. Koebi-chan~?”

“Sorry Floyd, but I don't think so.” Azul answers, with a smile but a cunning look.

“Oh ya?” Floyd was also smiling with cunning eyes. “And why don't you let Koebi-chan answer for themself?”

“For sure. I was just trying to soften your rejection.” He gives Floyd one last smug smile before turning to you. “Tell me [Y/N], would you like to sleep next to Floyd or next to me?” You reply that you would like to sleep next to Azul.

“He he. I already knew it.” Floyd says with a genuinely amused expression. “I just wanted to see how Azul would react.” And before anyone could question those phrases, he turns to the other three and asks: “So what will the other pairs be?” With a smile knowing that he is creating a fun chaos.

Riddle, Ace and Jack look at each other. One of them will have to share a bed with Floyd.

“Ace!” Riddle says. “You should be the one paired with Floyd.”

“Wha-?! Why me?!”

“Because firstly, the bed wouldn't have much free space if either of you were paired with Jack. And secondly, you and Floyd are basketball teammates, you must get along well enough right?”

“You just don't want to be the one to pair with him and because you're my Housewarden you're ordering-” He stopped when he saw Riddle starting to get angry. “I mean, yes, of course, those are excellent arguments. You're absolutely right, Housewarden!”

Meanwhile, Floyd laughs with amusement.

💜 Bungalow - Yours and Azul's Bedroom 💜

Azul enters after you and closes the door. He sighs when he sees how simple the room is. “If we weren't in these circumstances, I would have found a luxury resort for us.”

You tell him that he has nothing to worry about, that despite everything, the others managed to make the room cozy and pleasant. And what matters most to you is being in it with him. He smiles, puts one hand on your waist and caresses your cheek with the other.

“Always seeing the bright side, my pearl.” He gives you a tender kiss on the lips. “Now, tell me, do you have a preference for the side of the bed where you would like to sleep?”

You lie down side by side.

“I am so glad we get to sleep under a proper roof tonight.”

“Azul...” You ask. “Would you really leave us on the island if none of us made a deal with you?”

“Of course not, darling.” He turns on himself to face you. “But I'm a businessman. And what kind would I be if I didn't take advantage of any business opportunity?”

You make a muffled sound, not liking his response that much. He comes closer to you. “I wouldn't do anything like I used to, I promise. Maybe I'd only have them working at Mostro Lounge for a week or so. And no anemones on their heads to force them to obey me, I swear.” He was smiling slyly saying this.

You look away from him, rolling your eyes. “I repented.” With a gentle finger on your chin he makes you look at him again, he looks into your eyes lovingly. “Seen the light, made a switch. I would never leave you on a desert island. Even if I had to turn you into a merfolk to do so.” He smiled. “I wonder how you would look like.”

“And the others?” You ask.

“Hum? I wasn't thinking about them, but I'm also curious to know what they would be like in mer-form, yes.” He answewrs. You laugh and say no,that that wasn't what you were asking. He sighs. “Fine, fine... I wouldn't leave any of them on a desert island.” He says, partly in admission, partly to make you happy.

But then his smile fades for a moment. He caresses your face again.

“I hope you're not like that with everyone. Not everyone deserves such benevolence. You and your tender disposition will only be taken advantage if you let them.” You could see the concern in his eyes.

You assure him that you know it, and that you're not like that with everyone. They were your friends, it was different and he knew it. He smiles fondly.

“I wonder what kind of deal we made to have someone like you in our lives. And mainly...” He brings his lips closer to yours. “...what I did to have you for myself.” and you kiss.

You will always wake up with his arms around you. You're between him and the window because he's going to use you to hide his face from the light while he's in the process of waking up. But as soon as he's more awake, he'll kiss you good morning and start the day with you.

“Koebi-chan and I pair up to sleep in one of the beds. Now you guys fight to see who gets to stay on the couch.” Floyd decides with an amused smile, completely ignoring any comments about you usually sleeping in the same room as Grim.

“HOLD ON!” Riddle says. “You can't just decide something like that without the other person's consent!”

The truth is that since you were dating, Floyd assumes that you would like to take advantage of that opportunity to share a room with him. But since no one else knows about it yet, he plays along. He also likes that your relationship is still a secret to see the confusion on other people's faces in situations like these.

“Okay~ Hey Koebi-chan, do you want to share the room with me~?”

You say yes, clearly of your own free will, which reassures Riddle and the others. And in that case, they will have to decide the pairs for the beds and who sleeps on the couch.

Ace suggests choosing at random, like whoever draws the shortest straw stays on the couch, and Azul is the first to go against this suggestion. Riddle is the second.

“I volunteer to stay on the couch.” Lilia said with a smile. “From what I saw in the cave, I'm the one who has the least problems sleeping.”

“Mendako-chan could sleep on a battlefield, hehehe.” Floyd comments. Lilia also laughs at this observation.

“Furthermore I'm going to have two really fun roommates.” Lilia smiled at Stitch, who smiled back, and at Grim, who said something about him being a great roommate. The others looked at you for a moment when he said that to see your reaction.

Of all three, Riddle was the least uncomfortable pairing with Azul. So they formed a pair and the other two freshmen formed another.

💜 Bungalow - Yours and Floyd's Bedroom 💜

You two enter the room, Floyd closes the door and goes directly to lie down on the bed. Taking up the whole bed.

“So, what do you think of our room? Pretty cool, han?” In fact, the room was decorated with very beautiful, sparkling seashells. They were all sorts of colors: orange, red, purple, green, pink, white. And they look like painted porcelain.

“So you also like dead shellfish?” He says. “Kingyo-chan and Uni-chan too. They were fawning over these shells when we found this spot. It was fun to see their faces when most of the shells they had collected started moving on their own. They had picked up hermit crabs without realizing it. I told them to leave the pretty spiral ones alone and pick out the flat, practical ones to use them as plates. And when we were working on the bungalow I went to where they had left the shells and used them to decorate the room. Just a warning, don't scream too loud if one of these corpses is still alive and pokes your leg at night~”

He laughs looking at your reaction. “Exciting, isn't it?” You complain, saying you want to sleep peacefully. “Fine, fine, I was just kidding. Do you think I don't know how to tell the difference between seashells?” You say that, precisely for this reason, he could put a hermit crab in your room on purpose. “Hahahaha. You know me too well, Koebi-chan. But nah, that crab could poke me at night and I don't want that either.”

You were still standing, looking at him with his arms and legs spread out like a starfish taking up the entire bed.

“Won't you go to lie down with me?” He asks with a smirk.

“Where?” you ask “You're taking up the whole bed.”

“Here!” He attacks you with a hug and forces you to lie down in his arms. He squeezes you affectionately, and without hurting you, of course. He yawns. “And? Where is my reward for making such a pretty room for us~?” He asks with inviting lips very close to yours.

You kiss him and feel him reciprocating lazily, but sweetly.

“And for being one of the people who built the bungalow?” You kiss him again. “And for making such a good dinner?” and again. “And the bonfire was also a good idea, wasn't it?” and again “And didn't ya like my music?” and he will continue to remind you of things for you to pay him back with kisses until he simply gets tired and you two just make out until you fall asleep.

When he wakes up in a good mood and excited about the day, he can pick you up and force you to get up too. If he wakes up feeling sleepy and wants to stay in bed longer, he won't take his arms away from you, forcing you to continue being his bodypillow until he's in the mood to get up.

And that someone who commented about you and Grim being a package deal was none other than Lilia himself. And yes, you were shocked. Was he going to miss an opportunity like this?

And unfortunately for you, everyone agreed. You even fit well on the couch. And during that whole time Lilia had his usual smile as if nothing had happened.

“So who will be the pairs for the beds then?” Floyd asked.

“Why don't the two of us pair up, Floyd?” Lilia suggested “I'm sure it will be fun.”

“Okay~”

Everyone else looks relieved, even Azul. And while the remaining four decided on their pairings, you looked at Lilia for a moment. And, knowing that no one else was looking at you two, his smile became sly, he winked at you and put on his innocent smile back again.

The pairs ended up being Azul and Riddle, and Ace and Jack, since neither of these two wanted to be paired with Azul and, despite everything, Riddle didn't mind.

That night, you lie down on the couch. Both Grim and Stitch curl up to sleep. You curl up to get comfortable and close your eyes to fall asleep.

You had already fallen asleep when you felt something touch your nose and a familiar voice whispering "Boop". You open your eyes and see Lilia lying next to you, smiling. Wait... lying on your side? But the couch doesn't have that much space. Your vision adapts and you see that you are no longer on the couch, but on the bed in one of the rooms.

💚 Bungalow - Yours and Lilia's Bedroom 💚

“Fufufu. Surprised?” He could see that in your face.

You ask him how, what, when...? He laughs.

“I knew that none of them would want to sleep on the sofa, and that the chances of me being chosen to sleep on it, if we got to that point, were too high for I had an easier time sleeping wherever it was.” His look becomes sly, like the one he gave you while the others were deciding the pairings. “But if you were the one sleeping on the couch, I could find a way to get the person I was paired with to switch with you. Octavinelle students love deals and I would have an easier time getting a deal like this with Floyd than with Azul. After making sure he was in a good mood for it of course. Which is also very easy for me. I mean, who would be in a bad mood in the company of someone as adorable and fun as me?” He rests his chin on his hands and gives you his cutest smile to prove his point.

You ask him what deal they made and he smiles slyly again.

“Don't worry, my dear. It takes more than a intelligent teenager with mood swings to outsmart me. And let's say that Azul can be more difficult to convince.” There is a short pause. “I hope you can forgive me for waking you up. You looked so cute sleeping, but I really wanted to surprise you. Did you like it?”

You did! But you still tell him how you felt when you were deciding who slept where.

“You know the saying: All's fair in love and war. Of course I wasn't going to miss an opportunity like this, but I had to make sure we stayed together. And knowing my opponents and who my best allies would be, I knew this would be my best strategy.”

You still seem not completely convinced, or at least you pretend you're not.

“Aww... don't do this to poor old me~” He says dramatically “You can't imagine how hard it was for me to see your disappointed face when you were chosen to sleep on the sofa. My heart sank as much as seeing a companion injured in combat next to me. But we needed to be strong if we want to end up together!”

You laugh to see him act so melodramatically. He holds both of your hands, and looks deeply into your eyes, with a mix of a sweet smile and a smirk.

“And now that we're safe in each other's arms, maybe we can heal our wounded hearts.” And if you allow him, he will kiss your lips.

He will always wake you up with a kiss or by bopping your nose. And if you feel lazy he will force you to get up by being cutely annoying. Even if he has to hold you in his arms to do so. C'mon, the days are beautiful and he can enjoy the beach with you, he wants to enjoy every second before it ends.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 The Other Boy Next Door.

Spencer Reid x Neighbor!reader

next chapter | series mastelist | main masterlist

Summary: Spencer is focused on not hurting you and keeping a healthy distance, but his whole world is turned upside down when he hears a male voice in your apartment.

Words: 3,9k.

Warnings & Tags: this is part of a series, check the masterlist to make sure you are in the correct chapter. mention of jail, gun, violence, alzheimer, blood. references to what happened with maeve (no direct mention). painter!reader. post prison reid (with so much trauma). lack of communication. angst. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: This chapter was veryyy difficult to write because I really wanted to show both points of view, and I killed myself researching the deeper consequences of three months of confinement to be realistic with Spencer😭 I hope this makes sense to you.

Most days in apartment 23 were lonely and very decadent.

Generally, Spencer Reid woke alone in a bed that felt far too large for one person, the sheets cool and undisturbed on one side. Coffee came first, a dark, bitter brew that filled the air with its sharp aroma. He would stand by the kitchen window, staring out at the skyline, lost in thoughts that circled endlessly but led nowhere. His medical books were always on the table, their spines cracked and pages marked with notes and highlighter strokes. He pored over them not out of passion but desperation, chasing elusive cures for his mother’s Alzheimer’s. The phone rested nearby, a constant reminder of his work, its silence pressing heavier with each passing hour.

When there was no call, which was really weird, he filled the void with repetition. He’d toast bread or fry eggs for a meager breakfast, then venture out to the coffee shop on the corner. The routine was painfully predictable: the same stale donuts, the same barista with the tired smile, the same seat by the window. Thirty-two minutes, start to finish, every time. If the phone didn’t ring even then, he’d wander aimlessly to the library, where the scent of old paper offered fleeting comfort, or return home to let classical music fill the otherwise suffocating quiet. He was always pleased to hear songs without lyrics that could further suffocate his brain. It was a nice way to wait to be needed.

But one day, the loop cracked. Midway through his meticulous routine, something—or rather someone—broke through the fog of his predictability. You moved in next door.

And then, all of a sudden, his quiet time between classical sonatas, coffee, and huge books was interrupted by your cat, and consequently, you. His whole routine changed right away. He no longer woke up alone in his bed because you and Mittens took up all the space that was left and more. He didn't just buy one coffee anymore; now he bought two, with an extra brownie that you loved. He didn't lock himself away to read non-stop because he had you to talk to and give him the support that no book could ever give him. He stopped listening to so much classical music because you liked watching him analyze the lyrics of your favorite songs. He stopped waiting for calls from work to feel useful because you always seemed to need him.

And he welcomed all the changes, because the biggest one was his favorite: you.

Everything about you captivated him from the moment he saw you hauling an absurd number of canvases into your apartment. You were unlike anyone he’d ever met. Your presence turned the once-sterile hallway into a place of possibility, where running into you felt like a small miracle. But what amazed him most was how you transformed his apartment, a place he once thought of as lonely and very decadent, into a home. It wasn’t just the way Mittens treated his space like her second domain or how your art supplies slowly began to infiltrate his coffee table. It was the warmth you brought with you, the way you made him feel seen and understood in a way he never had before.

But since Spencer was used to it, nothing good lasted. But since Spencer was used to it, he'd rather leave than be left behind again.

You two were almost like strangers now. The warmth that had once filled his days was gone, replaced by a hollow silence that lingered in every corner of his apartment. There were no more mornings waking up together, no shared cups of coffee, or lazy conversations about nothing and everything. Even your casual hallway encounters had dwindled into fleeting moments, a rushed “good morning” as you passed each other without meeting his eyes.

Now, his mornings were cold and solitary once again. He sat alone at the small kitchen table, the other chair pushed neatly against the wall as if to erase any memory of you. The second coffee cup he’d grown so used to buying stayed behind at the shop, and the barista didn’t even ask about the brownie anymore. Instead, he carried a single steaming cup back to his apartment, where it joined the growing pile of books that had reclaimed their place as his only companions.

He buried himself in his medical texts with a desperation that bordered on obsession, but even the words on the page couldn’t hold his attention. He visited his mother at the nursing home you had helped him find, but the comfort he once felt from knowing it was close had turned into an aching reminder of how involved you’d been in every part of his life. And to make things worse, the job that had always been his refuge was gone too. Temporarily suspended, he had nothing to distract him, no cases to pour himself into, and no purpose to latch onto. He was adrift, waiting for his boss to negotiate with the bureau, waiting for his life to have some semblance of meaning again.

This morning was no different from the others. A bleak repetition of what his life had been before you. Spencer sat on his couch with a cup of coffee that had already gone lukewarm. His fingers gripped the edges of an open book, but his eyes skimmed the words without processing them. The air in the apartment was heavy, stagnant, broken only by the soft, repetitive scrape of Mittens’ claws against the fabric of a cushion. The sound grated on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to shoo her away. In truth, he was grateful for the small disruption, even if it came from a cat that seemed to sense his turmoil.

But something changed this time. From the corner of his ear, a sound, a voice, pierced the thin walls of the place. It was not so loud, but it was unmistakable. A man's voice. Deep. Low. Tense. And from your apartment.

His body tensed, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. His heart stopped for a few seconds. The voice was unfamiliar; he knew it wasn't one of his friends because he knew them all, but there was still something about it that made him uneasy. It was almost...harsh. The words, though distorted by distance, still had a tone that made Spencer catch his breath. It wasn't an argument, he didn't even hear your voice respond or even give the slightest sign that you were okay. It wasn't so loud, but the pressure of the voice, the possibilities behind it, didn't sit well with you. Especially since you were always reluctant to let anyone into your home.

At that moment, a deafening crash shattered the fragile stillness of the apartment. The sound reverberated through the walls, shaking picture frames and sending a cold jolt straight down his spine. It was the kind of noise that demanded attention, the kind that twisted in the pit of your stomach and told you that something was horribly wrong.

Then, silence.

No voices. No footsteps. Nothing.

It was the silence that gutted him most. His mind instantly spiraled into the worst-case scenarios. Blood pooling across the floor. Your voice screaming his name in pain, only to be silenced. The flicker of movement as someone fled the scene. He couldn’t stop the flood of images from invading his mind. They were vivid, visceral, and rooted in the darkest parts of his imagination.

The silence dragged him back to the nightmares. The ones he’d woken up to every night in that tiny, suffocating prison cell, his heart racing and his breath shallow. Nightmares of iron bars and shouts echoing down narrow corridors. Nightmares of blood in the courtyard, spilling from faceless bodies while the sun mocked him with its indifferent light. Nightmares of whispered threats and the press of a blade against his ribs. They had told him they’d hurt everyone he loved, and for months, he’d believed them.

He had learned survival then, how to block out the fear, how to guard his thoughts, how to endure. But the nights were a different story. He’d lie on that hard, narrow cot, willing his body to rest while his mind conjured the only thing that could keep him sane: the image of you. You smiling. Laughing. You safe. It was the only thing that had kept him alive in a place that wanted to devour him whole.

And now, this silence threatened to destroy that fragile illusion of safety.

Without even thinking, his hand went to the drawer where he kept his new pistol, and his fingers brushed the cold steel. He paused, thinking about how he never thought he would need it in a place like this, a safe apartment in a decent neighborhood, where the most dangerous thing that had ever happened was Mittens knocking over a vase or spilling his hot coffee. Yet now, everything felt wrong, the voice he’d heard earlier, the crash, the gnawing dread in his chest that whispered, you’re too late, for the second time.

His breathing quickened as his hand closed around the grip, pulling the gun from the drawer. The weight of the gun in his palm momentarily calmed him and made him feel in control again, but his mind was already racing, imagining the worst. What if something had happened to you? What if that voice was threatening you or, worse, trying to hurt you? What if that man had already hurt you and that's why your voice couldn't be heard? What if he failed you like he failed in the past? Spencer tightened his grip on the gun, his mind racing as his feet moved faster toward the half-open door of your apartment.

With his body paralyzed with fear for you and his mind screaming for him to come in and make sure you were safe, the door creaked open just enough for him to see inside.

You were standing in the middle of the room, disheveled but unharmed. The sight of you, alive and unhurt, should have brought him relief, but instead, it only stirred confusion. The kitten-faced shirt he had given you for Christmas was wrinkled, your hair wild and unkempt, and faint streaks of dust and paint covered your hands. His eyes darted past you to the man beside the sink, leaning casually over the counter, focused on his work. The sink was dripping steadily, water pooling beneath the cracked faucet, and there, next to it, lay a jagged shard of broken glass on a rag. The man, dressed in worn work boots and a faded flannel shirt, was tinkering with a wrench, his brow furrowed in concentration as he replaced the faucet head.

Damn.

For the first time, Spencer Reid realized something. His instincts were wrong. His mind had misfired. His thoughts, clouded by the lingering darkness of his past and the fear, had led him to the wrong conclusion. For the first time.

The man’s voice broke the silence. “Good thing you called me when you did,” he said cheerfully. “Could’ve ended up with water damage if this had gone much longer. Would’ve been a real shame for your paintings.”

At the mention of your paintings, your most cherished works, your soul poured onto each canvas, your body tensed, a chill running through you. Instinctively, you turned toward the wall where they were propped, vibrant colors peeking out from behind the half-open door, but it wasn’t the paintings that caught your attention.

It was Spencer.

Your heart slammed in your chest as your eyes met his. His face was tight with something you couldn’t decipher, but your gaze was drawn inexorably to the thing in his hand. The weapon he was awkwardly attempting to hide beneath his jacket. The sight hit you like a punch to the gut, your pulse spiking with a mix of confusion, disbelief, and raw fear. It was like the world shifted on its axis, everything around you turning to static, muffled noise.

You couldn’t speak. Your mouth went dry, your throat constricting. No words could come, not while your mind raced, trying to make sense of this moment that felt like a nightmare, and yet, it was all too real.

The man, Mike, your neighbor, remained oblivious, still focused on the task at hand. “All set here,” he said with satisfaction, wiping his hands on a towel, his back still to Spencer. “Just keep an eye on it, and let me know if anything else leaks.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stay composed. “Yeah…thanks. I really appreciate it.”

Spencer shifted his weight, and you saw his hand, tight on the gun, pressing it awkwardly against his side in an attempt to hide it further. It only made things worse. His actions were clumsy, frantic even, as if he couldn’t decide whether to conceal it or confront you. And you saw it all, the frantic, fearful energy that was pulsing in the air between you. But what stung the most wasn’t just the weapon; it was the confusion in his eyes, the distance that had grown between you, and the unsettling realization that he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, tell you why he was here. Why did he have to carry that gun knowing that you had never even liked to be near the drawer where it was kept?

Mike, noticing a subtle shift in the atmosphere but not understanding its source, glanced at Spencer briefly, his expression faltering slightly as if sensing the subtle change. But he said nothing. He simply gathered his tools and offered an awkward, polite nod. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your day,” he said, too focused on his exit to feel the heaviness that hung in the air. “Always happy to help. Just call me if anything else comes up.”

You didn’t speak. You just moved, stepping forward with a forced smile that felt more like a mask, positioning yourself subtly between them. Your movement was calculated, deliberate, blocking Spencer, hiding the gun, trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy. “Will do,” you said, the words sounding like a brittle lie in your own ears. The brightness of your tone was a poor attempt to mask the tightness in your chest, the hurt you couldn’t quite articulate.

With a nod, he headed toward the door, giving you a wave as he left. “Have a good day!”

“You too,” you managed to reply, your voice thin and strained. You barely registered the words before you were practically ushering him out, closing the door swiftly behind him, the finality of the click of the latch echoing in the silence that enveloped the room.

After a moment, you turned slowly, your hand slipping from the doorknob. Your eyes met his, and the look on his face stopped you in your tracks. His expression was raw, his brows drawn together, lips pressed into a thin line, his knuckles white where they clutched the gun now tucked awkwardly against his side. There was fear in his eyes, but also something else, something darker, harder that you never saw before.

“What,” you began, your voice shaking, “were you thinking?”

Spencer opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. His chest heaved, breaths shallow and erratic. His mind, racing at full speed, tried to make sense of the words he needed to say, the ones that would make everything okay, the ones that would make you understand. But nothing fit. Nothing was enough to explain the panic that had taken hold of him, the fear that had driven him to do something he never would’ve imagined.

His gaze darted between your eyes and the gun still clenched in his hand, and a surge of self-loathing flooded him. He looked like a madman. He felt like a madman. His hand twitched, as if it were trying to pull the gun back, to shove it into the recesses of his mind where it belonged. But it was too late. He had already brought it into your life, into your apartment.

You took a cautious step toward him, each movement deliberate, careful. Like you were walking on glass, afraid that the slightest misstep would shatter everything between you. Your eyes flicked down to the gun, and your throat went dry. You swallowed hard, trying to push down the sick feeling in your stomach. “Put it down, please,” you said, your voice steady but thick with unspoken emotions.

For a moment, he didn’t move, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly around the grip. Then, as if the weight of your words had finally broken through, he blinked and seemed to snap out of a trance. His gaze dropped to the gun in his hand, and a wave of something, shame, regret, maybe even self-loathing, washed over his face. Slowly, carefully, he moved to the table near the entrance and set the weapon down.

The sound of the metal meeting wood was louder than it should have been, echoing in the oppressive silence of your apartment. The sharp clink made you flinch involuntarily, your body tensing as if bracing for something that, thankfully, didn’t come.

“You brought that into my apartment,” you said finally, your voice low and trembling.

“I thought—” he began, but you didn’t let him finish.

“You thought what?” you interrupted sharply, spinning around to face him. Your eyes were blazing, the fury in them cutting through him like a blade. “That you could just storm in here with a gun? That this—” you gestured toward him, your hand shaking, “—was the right thing to do? Even when you know how I feel about…this stuff?”

He knew, of course he did. He knew how much you hated his work and all that it involved, even though you tried hard not to show it every time he told you about it. Spencer knew that anything to do with violence gave you nightmares that only his company and many cartoons could alleviate.

“I thought you were in danger,” he whispered, his voice quieter now but laced with desperation as he took a tentative step toward you. His hands rose slightly, palms outward, as though to show you he wasn’t a threat. He wasn’t trying to intimidate you. “I heard a man’s voice, and then I didn’t hear you at all. There was a crash, something breaking…and I—” His voice cracked, and he clenched his jaw, trying to stop the panic that clawed at him. “I didn’t know what was happening. I thought—God, I thought you were hurt.”

God.

He didn't usually say that word.

“You didn’t know because you didn’t ask.” The words shot out of you like arrows, and the sting was sharp. You took a step back, arms crossed tightly over your chest, trying to shield yourself from the wave of emotion crashing over you. “You didn’t call, you didn’t knock, you didn’t think.”

At that moment, Spencer wasn't sure if he was more hurt by your words or the fear that still haunted your gaze. It was almost as if you were afraid of him, his own mind told him. And it hurt, like a wound that wouldn't stop bleeding.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, and your eyes narrowed as you stood there, fighting to regain control of your emotions. “If you weren’t ignoring me like the plague, you’d know that my apartment flooded a month ago. I’ve been trying to get the plumbing fixed, but I haven’t had the money until now. That’s what I was doing,” you said, your voice trembling but stronger now, the words tumbling out faster than you intended. “That’s why I had someone over today. He was fixing the leak. He’s just—he’s just a plumber, Spencer. He’s our neighbor from the fourth floor.”

His heart hammered in his chest, and for a moment, he just stood there, taking it all in, the weight of your words sinking into him like a stone. The irrational fear that had gripped him moments ago now seemed distant, almost laughable in the face of what he had just done.

He opened his mouth to apologize, but the words were stuck, tangled in the knot of regret and guilt in his throat.

You met his gaze, searching for something, anything, in his eyes that might show you he understood, that he truly realized how wrong he was. But all you saw was the same deep sorrow, the same painful awareness of the damage he had caused.

“I don’t know what you were thinking,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but cutting through the silence. “Or what happened these last three months that changed you so much.” You shook your head slowly, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But that wasn’t it. That’s not how you protect someone. That’s not how you show you care.”

The finality in your words hit him like a blow to the chest. Spencer’s shoulders slumped, and for the first time, he looked truly broken. He stood there, vulnerable and raw, his lips parting as if to speak, but all that came out was a quiet, defeated whisper. “You’re right.”

His voice was barely above a breath, but it carried the weight of every ounce of regret he felt. “I don’t know how to do it. I don’t know how to protect you…or anyone.” His gaze dropped, his hand flexing at his side as if he didn’t know what to do with it. “I haven’t learned.” He exhaled sharply, a sound that was half a sigh and half a plea. “I’m sorry.”

And with that, he stepped forward, each movement slow and deliberate, as if he feared any sudden motion might shatter what little remained between you. His hand reached for the gun on the table, the clink of metal against wood echoing in the room like the final note of a requiem. You flinched at the sound, a subtle but unmistakable movement that made Spencer freeze in place. He saw it, the fear in your eyes, the way your body tensed, and it broke him in ways he didn’t know were possible.

Without another word, he tucked the gun securely away and turned toward the door. His steps were heavy, deliberate, like a man walking toward his own execution. He didn’t look back as he opened it, his silence saying more than words ever could. The door clicked shut behind him, the sound reverberating in the room, leaving you in a deafening, suffocating quiet.

You stood there, frozen in place, the weight of his absence crashing over you. Your chest ached, your mind racing with thoughts you couldn’t stop. For the first time, you weren’t sure if he was still the same man who had made you fall in love.

Because your Spencer would never have hidden a gun in his apartment, even when he was supposed to be suspended and without one. He would never have brought it to your home, especially after hearing you say a thousand times how scared you were of arms. And most of all, he wouldn’t have left the way he did now. He would have stayed. He would have held you, kissed your forehead, and asked for forgiveness a thousand times over until you knew, without a doubt, that he regretted every moment of his mistake.

But he hadn’t. And as the silence pressed down on you, you couldn’t help but wonder if the man you had loved was still there…or if he had already disappeared, piece by piece, in the last three months.

You certainly didn't know a lot of things.

[wonallofme]

pinching!

tw and tags: bully!heeseung x plus size!fem!reader, descriptions of bullying, a lot of physical contact, noncon then heavy dubcon, oral sex (f receiving). word count: 2.3k note: originally written with a different idol in mind, this fic was already posted in my old blog. while talking to one of my best friends in the app we decided to re-post old fics for fun and idk why but while checking some of them I felt this one fitted Hee. I changed it a lot tho. anyway, hope someone here likes the concept. i’m a big fan of plus size/chubby reader but haven’t had the opportunity to talk about it here in the blog yet so, if you like it too, please don’t hesitate to hit my (empty) inbox! special thanks to fairy for being my first-ever beta reader ❤️

You have a couple of memories from that place, like how good it felt to hug your grandmother before bed, how there was a little stall in front of your school that always had tasty sweets, and how there was a little boy you used to walk home with after classes finished.

There wasn’t much objection once your mother said you would go back and live together in your grandmother's place not to leave the house empty. You had a couple of friends, but it was nothing special, so you said goodbye to them and moved with your mother without problem.

You had to admit you were kind of happy to move. Yeah, you wouldn’t be able to hug your grandmother, but at least you would feel her presence with the old floors and flower decorations that surrounded every room. Perhaps you could eat those sweets again, and there was the chance of making new friends too. Good things could come, you thought.

If you’re honest, you just hoped you could see him again.

You should've known at that point in your life that having expectations only leaves the sour aftertaste of disappointments.

The stall wasn’t there anymore, the entire house had changed because of your mother's decision, leaving no trace of your grandmother behind, and the sweet boy that used to follow you with a smile now followed you to make fun of you.

It was easy to recognize him. He had the same eyes and shiny smile, and you were elated to see a good, old friend all grow up into a real man. Sadly, he wasn’t as happy as you to see you again, showing you a disgusted face once you told him who you were.

‘’Don’t fucking talk to me,’’ he said, and you didn’t understand what you had done wrong. Perhaps you were too confident, your perfume wasn’t to his liking, or your hand was sweating too much when you touched him. You honestly had no idea why he reacted like that, but you understood that, just like his appearance, he had changed too. 

After all, that sweet boy you used to know would’ve never talked to you that way.

That interaction alone was enough to make you never want to approach him again. You didn’t want to hear that tone or see that expression again, so you did your best. You avoided him in the hallway, you stayed in your seat not to cross his way during breaks, and you didn’t look his way when you recognized his voice. 

It was all useless though.

You had become his new favourite thing.

At first, he was all words and no bite. He’d throw comments every now and then about your physical appearance, like comparing you to a pig when you ate your lunch in the cafeteria or mocking your uniform for being bigger than normal because of your size. 

His friends only laughed at these comments, and those who weren’t his friends stayed silent. They were different groups but shared one same trait– None dared to approach you, afraid of receiving the same treatment from him.

Then, he started to touch you.

He pinched your arm, telling you to give him your homework to copy it. Later, it was your cheeks, telling you to stop eating if you didn’t want to gain weight. Finally, one day, when everyone had left for the PE class while you were searching for your towel in your seat, approaching you silently from behind, he pinched your waist.

Scared, you turned to him. It had hurt a lot more than when he did it to your cheeks. You knew that, more than to bother you or call your attention, like on the other occasions, he had done it with all the intention of hurting you.

When you looked at his face, you noticed that his typical grin wasn’t there, replaced by a surprised expression and curious eyes instead. Somehow, you felt that something bad was about to happen, so you pushed him out of the way and walked out of there as soon as you could without caring that you were leaving with empty hands.

‘’Where’s your towel?’’ your teacher asked you.

‘’I forgot it,’’ you answered, not wanting to return to the classroom.

Later, Heeseung arrived with your towel in his hand, and you got punished for not bringing all the obligatory material.

He got worse.

if he crossed you in the hallways, he would shamelessly pinch your waist until you hissed, and when he found you in the library, between shelves, he would pinch your ass, grinning from ear to ear at the picture of you biting your lips not to make a sound so you wouldn’t get in trouble again.

As if everything he did was an innocent game, he smiled at you after nipping different parts of your body, like the side of your ribcage when you decided to walk away from his teasing, the back of your hand when you tried to push him away, or your thighs when he sat beside you in the cafeteria or the study room.

‘’Why are you doing this?’’ you whispered, pushing his hand away from prying under your skirt and pinching your upper leg.

‘’Look at all that skin,’’ he answered, grabbing your round hand with force to stop you from getting away. ‘’Your body is begging for it.’’

When you tried to do it again, to get away from his hands, he pinched the space of your chest that your bra didn’t cover.

Making you whimper in pain, he laughed at your hurt expression.

‘’It really hurts!’’ you tried to reason with him, but he was a lost cause. It didn’t matter that you were full of little purple and green spots, flinching at the mere sight of him lurking around, he wanted more.

This is going to end at one point, you tried to tell yourself.

He’d get tired and leave you alone when he found a new toy. It was impossible he only focused on you the entire time, and even if it was like that, it was your last year. After that, you prayed, you’d never see him again.

Everything comes to an end.

Your house was the only safe space you had. Even if it wasn’t anything like the warm memory you had about it, it was a place that had never been tainted by Heeseung, unlike your school, or the streets you walked to arrive there.

Sometimes, he would follow you while murmuring insults, pretending to be a good friend walking you home. Nonetheless, once you opened your entrance door and saw that he stayed feet away, you would exhale, relieved that he didn’t try to follow you inside, too.

‘’Your friend is waiting for you in your room,’’ your mother smiled. ‘’I’ll go and buy something for you to eat later’’ 

She, unlike you, was excited to have him there, and you, trying to breathe properly not to show how the panic was consuming you, nodded.

‘’He’s become such a handsome man,’’ she murmured before leaving.

There was nothing you could do to run away, it was your house, and opening your room door, you saw him calmly looking at your stuff.

Your pillow wasn’t where you left it, so it was impossible to deny he had been roaming around for a while, invading your space and doing whatever he wanted, like he always did.

Standing in front of your bookshelf, one of your diaries open in his hands, he sensed your presence.

‘’Didn’t know you took so many walks, thought you would never come,’’ he said, passing the page and inspecting its content as if there was something in particular he was looking for. ‘’It doesn’t explain why you still look like that though.’’

‘’Heeseung, I’ve done nothing to you,’’ you sounded as if you were begging at that point. ‘’Why– I just don’t get why.’’

‘’I have my reasons,’’ he answered, closing the book and leaving it where it previously was.

You flinched when he showed the intention of getting close to you. Your hands became fists behind you, fully alert, one of them gripping the knob, ready to run into another room in case he tried to hurt you again.

‘’We were friends,’’ you said, lower lip slightly trembling. ‘’Please, stop. It hurts, Heeseung. It hurts a lot.’’

He saw you like that, broken, vulnerable, and he beamed.

Walking towards you, you thought your body would listen to you and escape, but it didn’t.

As you remained frozen in your place, caging you with his body, he finished closing the door behind you. Too late, you only reacted after hearing the loud click the secure did.

You started trembling as you realised he had blocked the only way of running away you had.

‘’But if I don’t touch you, who else will?’’ he whispered, taking your shaking hand in his. 

Not pinching it this time, he interlocked his fingers with yours and pulled you closer to him. Your torso compacting his made you more conscious of how you were completely alone in your room, and, therefore, of how unrestrained he was allowed to act.

‘’If you’re good, I’ll stop being so hard on you. What do you think about that?’’ he offered.

You didn’t understand him. Being good with what? 

Looking up at him, you couldn’t move your chest from pressing his because his other hand, forcing you to stay in your place, went to rest over the small of your back, the generous curve from your ass to your waist that was the object of so many of his jokes.

You could see where his actions were going. 

You felt yourself get nauseous with his body temperature and his aroma suffocating you due to the inexistent distance between your bodies.

‘’My mom will come back in any second…’’ you didn’t know what other excuse to use.

‘’I’ll be quick,’’ he smiled, wetting his lips, unconsciously sending a signal to your brain that screamed for you to just be good and get it over with.

‘’Will it hurt?’’ Your face betrayed you, plainly showing all the fears you had, giving him, once again, the upper hand.

‘’Not anymore,’’ he assured you. His hand that used to bring you so much pain suddenly became gentle and trailed up, caressing your arm with multiple marks created by him before finding your chest, and groping it with obvious satisfaction a few times, he felt them until he decided he wanted to touch more of you.

His hands continued their way until he found his new goal.

He cupped your face with a tenderness you had never met from him before, and not wanting to provoke him in any way, you muted yourself. 

To his unpleasant care, thumbs caressing your cheeks, you didn’t make a single noise, not the hiss you always let out when he pinched you, nor the cry when he painfully rubbed your soft skin.

‘’Well done,’’ he praised you, proud of what he recognised as your acceptance.

He expected you to continue being so obedient when he obliged your thighs to open with his knee.

Quickly, he found his place.

You didn’t know what to expect, but you never imagined the situation would end with him ditching your pants somewhere in your room and desperately dropping to his knees so he could accommodate between your trembling legs, slurping all the involuntary wetness your body made you drip not to suffer when the moment of taking him arrived.

Not being able to call his name properly, you whined when his palms gripped your meaty thighs a bit too hard and his tongue found your entrance, penetrating it with sloppy stabs.

The sensation of the tip of his nose bumping against your clit and his fingers separating your plump folds made you bite your lips to stop what felt like a moan.

He was eating you out like a starved man.

Your hands went to his hair, and you have no idea what flooded you, but you felt free to hurt him too. 

You wanted him to suffer too.

Full of unknown courage, you pulled his hair and moved your hips to crush his face, using him instead of the other way around.

Then, it felt good– To hurt him felt way too good. 

You thought, maybe this is why he does it, because you had never felt so powerful and in control before, especially, with him.

Looking down, you two made eye contact even with your chubby stomach prodding out. 

His eyes had nothing of the mockery they always showed. Instead, they were completely lost, drunk and unfocused. You couldn’t contain your moans anymore when his eyes batted and he seemed pleased to have your attention on him.

Not much after he started fucking you harder with his tongue, the knot in your stomach started to feel so tight you knew it would snap in any second.

Without intention, or maybe with all the intention, you closed your large legs around his head, not caring that you were crushing his face as you strongly came over his mouth and nose. 

He mewled, hugging your legs as you asphyxiated him for many seconds before your orgasm finished and you inevitably relaxed. 

Just after giving him everything you had, you finally allowed him to breathe. 

You freed him from your hold, but he didn’t move away immediately.

Gulping your remaining juices, he hardly inhaled once through his nose before he started licking the drops of your orgasm inside your thighs, leaving a trail of kisses along the way until he found his new favourite thing.

With both hands on the back of your thighs, he blinked multiple times before his tongue found its way between your folds, searching for your clit to leave a last loving lick.

As if he was proud you had abused him, only separating forcedly because of your hands pushing his head away from your sensitive clit, he took open-mouthed deep breaths with a still dazed expression.

Regaining some of his senses, he talked with the lower half of his face glistening.

‘’See? This didn’t hurt, right?’’ he smiled.

[aventurineswife]

hello~ I was hoping I could make a teensy (hopefully it stays teensy request XP) Dan Heng, Aventurine, Dr Ratio, Jing yuan, Jiaoqiu and AE!Sunday with a s/o or spouse who gets cold very easily but they remain quiet and dont complain abt it out loud to avoid being a bother XPc 🍮♠

Unspoken Warmth

Summary: Your partner notices your quiet endurance of the cold and offers warmth in their unique way, despite your reluctance to show weakness.

Tags: Dan Heng x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Dr. Ratio x Reader, Jing Yuan x Reader, Jiaoqiu x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Fluff, Comfort, Quiet Intimacy, Cold Weather Care, Protective Characters, Emotional Support, Silent Love, Soft Moments

You never complained about the cold. Not once. The chill of the wind outside the Astral Express had crept into your bones, and while most would have found the drop in temperature unbearable, you kept your discomfort to yourself. Dan Heng, however, was not one to miss the subtle shiver that ran through your body as you sat near the windows, gazing out into the vast, starry void.

He had noticed it before. How you would curl into yourself just a little tighter when the cold crept in, how you would sit with your shoulders drawn in, silently enduring the icy air without a single word of complaint. It wasn’t like you to ask for anything—Dan Heng knew that much. He respected it, perhaps more than you realized.

But that didn’t mean he was blind to it.

One evening, as the train hummed steadily through the vastness of space, he sat beside you, his sharp gaze flicking over the space around you. It had gotten colder, the sort of bite in the air that left no room for doubt. Yet you remained still, your posture ever so slight in your discomfort.

Without saying anything, he stood up and moved toward the cabin's storage. You heard the faint rustle of fabric, and then he returned, holding a thick, dark cloak draped over his arm.

“This should help,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm, as he carefully wrapped the cloak around your shoulders.

The warmth that radiated from the fabric immediately enveloped you, a small relief from the chill that had been gnawing at your skin. You opened your mouth to thank him but caught yourself. He was already back in his seat, his spear resting against the wall beside him. His demeanor hadn't shifted—stoic, calm, as always.

But then, you noticed the subtle change in his expression. His gaze, soft yet insistent, met yours for the briefest of moments. It wasn’t pity, but understanding. You weren’t the only one who carried silent burdens.

“I’ve got your back,” he added quietly, as though reading your thoughts.

And you knew, without needing to say a word, that he would always be there, silently offering warmth when you least expected it.

The cold had arrived swiftly, settling in with the smooth precision of a well-played hand in a game of cards. But unlike the calculated nature of your partner, this sudden chill seemed to have caught you off guard. Your body shivered slightly as the evening air settled over Aventurine’s apartment, the cold creeping into your bones.

You didn’t complain. You never did. Despite the discomfort of your quiet shivers, you simply curled your arms around yourself, hoping the warmth of your own body would be enough to stave off the cold.

But Aventurine—always observant, always attuned to the smallest details—had noticed. His sharp eyes flicked toward you, noting the way you hugged your arms tighter to your chest. He did not ask, he did not speak aloud, but within moments, you felt his presence beside you.

He draped his coat over your shoulders, the fur lining warm against your skin. You blinked in surprise, raising your head to meet his amused, yet tender, smile.

“Never thought I’d see someone like you let the cold win,” he teased gently, though his tone carried no malice.

You couldn’t help but smile in return, though you still said nothing. Aventurine’s smile deepened, as if he understood your reluctance to voice your discomfort.

“Stay warm, my dear.” he whispered, his hand brushing your hair back with a softness that felt almost too tender for the flamboyant strategist.

As he moved to sit down beside you, his cloak still wrapped around your shoulders, you leaned into him, letting the warmth from both his coat and his presence soothe the cold. No words were needed. With Aventurine, you had learned that sometimes, silence was the most profound way to express affection.

The cold was biting, a stark contrast to the usual warmth of the laboratory. You hadn’t said a word about it, of course. You never did. Your pride was too strong, your desire to not be a burden too ingrained in you. But that didn’t stop the creeping chill from seeping into your skin.

Ratio, ever perceptive despite his sharp and often dismissive nature, had noticed the subtle way your shoulders hunched as you worked alongside him. The shivering that danced along your arms hadn’t escaped his sharp eyes.

He did not comment. There was no question in his tone when he moved from the desk to the shelves, his fingers brushing over vials and medical instruments with precise ease. He returned a moment later with a heated compress, offering it to you without so much as a word.

“Place it here.” he instructed, gesturing to your hands.

You blinked at him, surprise momentarily breaking your usual calm demeanor. You hadn’t expected him to notice, much less to care.

Ratio’s eyes met yours—intense, unwavering, yet there was a flicker of something softer behind them. A quiet acknowledgment of your discomfort.

“It’s not weakness,” he added in a rare moment of tenderness. “Sometimes, even the strongest need a little help.”

You didn’t need to speak, but you gave him a small, grateful nod, the warmth from the compress beginning to seep into your body, making the cold feel a little less sharp.

It had become a routine. The cold would set in, and you would remain silent about it. You never asked for his attention, never begged for warmth, but Jing Yuan—calm, calculating, always two steps ahead—had noticed.

The evening had grown cold, and though you tried to remain composed, Jing Yuan’s sharp eyes caught the subtle way you tucked your arms around yourself, the faint shiver that ran through your form.

He didn’t speak a word at first, content to observe from a distance as you tried to maintain your stoic composure. But after a few moments, he stood, slowly walking toward you with the same deliberate pace he always maintained, his golden eyes softening with a quiet understanding.

Without asking, he wrapped a thick blanket around you, his hands brushing over your shoulders as he adjusted it for maximum comfort. His actions were practical, yet there was a gentleness in his touch that spoke volumes.

“You should have said something,” he murmured quietly, his voice carrying no reproach, only a subtle note of care.

You offered a faint smile, though you still didn’t speak, content to let the warmth of the blanket and his presence surround you. Jing Yuan simply nodded, his gaze distant but kind.

“I’m here,” he added softly, his usual authority giving way to something more personal. “Next time, let me know if you’re cold.”

And with that, you knew—without a word—that he would always be there to offer warmth, whether spoken or unspoken.

The cold came as it often did, unannounced and relentless. You tried to ignore it, as you always did, curling up with your thoughts and your work, pretending the biting chill didn’t bother you.

But Jiaoqiu, perceptive as always, saw through your act. His gentle eyes studied you from across the room as he prepared his alchemical concoctions, his hands steady and graceful. When he noticed the subtle tremble of your body, he moved toward you, his expression calm but his intent clear.

Without a word, he produced a thick, soft blanket from one of his cabinets and carefully draped it around your shoulders, ensuring you were warm but not overwhelmed.

“I know you don’t like to ask for help,” he said, his voice low and comforting, “but you don’t need to suffer in silence.”

You met his gaze, and for a moment, the weight of unspoken words hung between you. You hadn’t needed to say anything, yet Jiaoqiu knew exactly what you needed. The warmth from the blanket and his thoughtful gesture melted some of the cold, but it was the warmth of his care that truly made the difference.

And for the first time that day, you let yourself relax, allowing Jiaoqiu’s presence to be the healing you didn’t know you needed.

The cold had always been a silent companion. You never complained about it. You never showed weakness. It wasn’t that you didn’t mind the chill—it was simply a matter of pride. You would endure it silently.

But Sunday, ever the observant leader, had noticed. He saw the way your movements became just a bit stiffer, how your usual calm demeanor seemed to falter as the temperature dropped.

One evening, as you stood near the window of your shared quarters aboard the Astral Express, lost in thought, he approached without a word. You felt the weight of his presence before you heard his soft voice.

“You should’ve said something,” he murmured, his words carrying the authority of a leader, but with the gentleness of someone who truly cared.

Before you could respond, Sunday wrapped his long, elegant coat around you, pulling you gently into his embrace. The warmth of his body, combined with the softness of the fabric, melted the chill in your bones.

“You are not a burden,” he whispered, the quiet conviction in his tone breaking through your usual restraint. “I would have done this sooner if you had let me.”

For the first time, you didn’t feel the need to hide your discomfort. Sunday’s embrace, his warmth, was enough to make you forget the cold, not just around you, but inside as well.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

I think of mc being very protective of her friends being a orphan and all. someone says the gaunts are all dark wizards? they are in the hospital wing for two weeks under strange circumstances. someone starts a nasty rumor about why Anne really left hogwarts? The worst tripping hex gets everyone who repeats the rumor. someone insults sebastian, you better pray that mc didn't hear about it she's coming for you

The Things We Do for Family | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

oh I loooooved this concept!!!! THANK YOU FOR THE ASK, ANON. I really hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it!! :')

Words: ~5,200

Tags: Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, No Hogwarts House, Humor, Protective MC

There are things that Hogwarts students simply know—unchallenged truths, whispered warnings passed down from year to year.

The Forbidden Forest is dangerous. Peeves is a menace. The best snacks at Honeydukes sell out by Saturday afternoon. Don’t trust the staircases to take you where you actually want to go. Never accept Garreth Weasley’s offer to ‘test something out’.

And, under no circumstances, should anyone fuck with your friends.

It isn’t official, of course. There’s no school decree, no printed rule in the Hogwarts handbook, it's not carved into the walls. It’s just… understood.

It’s not like you’re some fearsome monster or anything.

You’re a model student, by all accounts. Brilliant. Sharp. Precise. A skilled duelist, a quick thinker, someone who turns in their assignments on time, answers when called on, and doesn’t cause disruptions in class.

You don’t start fights. You don’t pick pointless arguments. You don’t openly break the rules—not in ways that can be proven.

You play the part well.

Because that’s what you had to do.

You grew up alone. No parents. No siblings. No one to step in when things got hard, no one to defend you when the world was cruel. When you were small, scared, and helpless.

So you learned.

You learned that no one was coming to save you. You learned that fairness was a lie, that justice only existed when you carved it out with your own hands. You learned that people could be awful for no reason other than that they could get away with it.

But now? Now, you have a family. Not by blood, but by choice.

And when someone speaks against them? Bad things happen.

The Ominis Incident

It started, as most things did, with a careless remark.

A fifth-year Ravenclaw—smart but not particularly bright—thought it would be amusing to make a joke at Ominis Gaunt’s expense. A cruel one. Something about how the Gaunts were all inbred lunatics, how it was only a matter of time before Ominis ended up just like the rest of his family.

The words reached your ears in the library, drifting from a table not far from where you sat.

"You know I hear they torture Muggles for fun—it’s practically a family tradition. Gaunts don’t have hobbies, just a long history of inbreeding and Crucio."

Laughter followed, a few snickers from their table, hushed but not nearly enough. Not nearly enough to keep you from hearing.

Your quill stilled mid-word, ink pooling in place. Across from you, Ominis sat straight-backed, his expression unreadable, but you saw the way his fingers tightened around the book he was holding, knuckles whitening from the force of it.

He wouldn’t say anything.

Ominis had spent years perfecting the art of indifference. Of carefully controlled expressions, of blank politeness that masked far too much. He never reacted to comments like these.

But just because he wouldn’t didn’t mean you wouldn’t.

You exhaled slowly, carefully. Then, without a sound, you closed your book and stood.

Not a word. Not a glare in their direction. Just a smooth, effortless departure, as if you had suddenly decided the library was boring and somewhere else required your attention.

The Ravenclaws barely noticed.

But they would. They absolutely would. Because Potions class was a very dangerous place. Especially for people who talked too much.

The next day, you walked to Potions without a care in the world.

Sebastian and Ominis flanked you, deep in conversation about some essay Sharp had assigned, with Sebastian whining dramatically about how unfairly long it was, while Ominis countered that perhaps he should have started it earlier than the night before it was due.

You weren’t really listening, because you already knew what was coming.

And sure enough—just as you reached the dungeon corridor—

BOOM.

The floor trembled slightly beneath your feet. A deep, echoing explosion, the unmistakable sound of a cauldron detonating mid-brew, followed almost immediately by the frantic shouting of students.

Gasps. Choking coughs. Someone let out a screech of absolute horror.

Sebastian and Ominis startled.

Sebastian’s head snapped up, eyes wide as he looked toward the dungeon doors. “What the hell—”

Ominis twitched beside you, tilting his head, as if straining to listen.

You? Didn’t even blink. You just kept walking, calmly, like nothing was amiss, like you hadn’t been expecting it for the last twenty-four hours.

Sebastian noticed. His gaze sharpened, flicking to you with a knowing squint. “That was—”

He hesitated. Then narrowed his eyes further.

“Okay,” he said slowly, “I know that face.”

You raised a brow. “What face?”

“That’s your I-did-something-but-you’ll-never-prove-it face.”

You tilted your head, feigning confusion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Sebastian scoffed and Ominis rolled his eyes, deadpan. “Uh-huh.”

Then the dungeon doors burst open.

A thick cloud of green smoke billowed out, sending students stumbling and coughing into the corridor. And in the center of it all, a group of very, very green Ravenclaws.

They clawed at their own skin, staring down at their hands in absolute horror. Their faces were the exact shade of an overripe toadstool, splotchy and uneven, and every time they opened their mouths, their tongues flopped out two inches too long.

Hysteria ensued.

Students gasped, some shrieked, others tried not to laugh. Professor Sharp stormed out after them, looking beyond exhausted, already massaging his temples.

“I told you,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “not to add the peppermint extract.”

“WE DIDN’T!” One Ravenclaw wailed, voice garbled from their too-long tongue. “I—I don’t know what happened! We did everything right!”

Sharp did not look convinced.

Sebastian looked at you, long and slow, a glint of admiration dawning in his eyes.

“Did you—”

“I did nothing.” You walked past him, as if the entire debacle were none of your concern. “I was with you all day, wasn’t I?”

Sebastian’s lips twitched. “Yeah, but—”

“No proof, no crime.” You gave him a cheerful smile before stepping into the classroom.

Sebastian grinned. “Oh, I love you.”

It was offhanded, thoughtless, a casual jest, but it sent a sharp, pleasant warmth down your spine.

You didn’t react, though. Just smirked, settling into your seat. Because the message had been sent.

And Ominis Gaunt would never hear a word against his name again.

The Anne Incident

Rumors at Hogwarts were a force of nature.

They swirled through the halls, slipping between whispered conversations and behind cupped hands, growing more twisted with each retelling.

Some were harmless—who was dating who, which professor had it out for which student, the occasional Did you hear Peeves stole all the ink from the Ravenclaws again? But some? Some were cruel.

And this one... this one was about Anne Sallow.

It started at breakfast, when you overheard a group of Slytherin sixth-years in the Great Hall. You weren’t eavesdropping—not intentionally—but you had a habit of noticing things, of hearing too much when you weren’t meant to.

"Did you hear about Sallow’s sister?"

"Yeah, I heard she went mad."

"Lost it completely. The curse must’ve rotted her brain."

"That’s why she left, isn’t it?"

"Yeah, I heard she tried to hex someone in her sleep—"

Your fork warped in your grasp. A slow, controlled bend beneath your fingers, the metal bending in your grip.

Across from you, Sebastian had gone still.

He didn’t turn. Didn’t react. Didn’t give them the satisfaction.

But you saw the way his jaw clenched. The way his hand curled into a fist against the table. The way his entire body had gone taut, locked in place by sheer force of will.

He wouldn’t do anything.

Not because he didn’t want to. Not because he wasn’t capable of it—because he was.

Sebastian Sallow could be ruthless. You knew that better than anyone. You’d seen it firsthand, the sharp edges of his temper, the way his rage burned hot and all-consuming, leaving nothing but wreckage in its wake. You’d seen what happened when he felt cornered, when he thought he was out of options.

But he wasn’t that boy anymore. Because you and Ominis had dragged him back from the brink. Because you had looked him in the eye, years ago, when the dust had settled and the worst of it was over, and told him:

"You still have a future. Don’t throw it away."

Against all odds, he had listened. And now, this was his last year at Hogwarts and he was going to be an Auror. He was going to start over. Prove that he wasn’t just some reckless, violent delinquent one step away from Azkaban.

So no—he wouldn’t react. He wouldn’t take the bait. Wouldn't defend Anne, no matter how badly he wanted to. Wouldn’t let himself be dragged down into the same pit he’d barely crawled out of.

Sebastian was playing the long game.

But you? You weren’t.

Your revenge on Anne's behalf started small. Almost imperceptible.

The first Slytherin—the one who had started the conversation in the first place—was walking to class when it happened.

A single misstep.

His foot caught on something—thin air, perhaps—and he staggered forward, arms flailing in a desperate attempt to right himself. It didn’t work. His books went flying, parchment scattered across the stone corridor, and a bottle of ink tumbled from his bag, shattering upon impact and staining his robes in an ugly, irreversible mess of black.

A small accident. An unfortunate case of bad luck.

No one thought anything of it—until the second one fell.

In the exact same spot.

And then the third. And the fourth.

By the time lunch rolled around, all four of them had tripped at least half a dozen times each.

It wasn’t just limited to the corridor, either. They stumbled on staircases, barely catching themselves before they could go tumbling down. They walked straight into walls as if the castle itself had turned against them. One even managed to trip over absolutely nothing in the middle of the Great Hall and landed face-first into his own soup.

The snickers started soon after. The sideways glances. The poorly hidden laughter from classmates who found their sudden clumsiness far too entertaining.

It wasn’t enough to be suspicious.

Not yet.

Not until the moving staircase.

The ringleader of the group had spent too much time lingering in the courtyard after lunch, chatting up a group of girls who barely tolerated his presence. He realized too late that he was running behind and bolted toward Charms, racing up the moving staircases with zero grace and even less caution.

And then his foot caught.

There was nothing there. No loose stone or shift in the staircase, nothing at all to explain why he suddenly lost his footing.

But he did.

He stumbled backward, arms flailing wildly, fingers grasping at empty air as the momentum carried him too far—

And he plummeted.

Three flights.

A blur of robes and limbs, a crash of bone against stone, and then a sickening thud as he landed in a groaning, crumpled heap at the bottom.

A hush fell over the corridor.

Then—

Shrieking.

His friends rushed down to him, voices panicked, eyes wide with horrified realization as they took in his bruised, trembling form.

A girl ran to fetch Madam Blainey.

By the time she arrived, he was whimpering, clutching his arm like it might’ve snapped.

Hospital Wing. Immediate bed rest.

No one could explain what happened. No professor could find a cause. Some students claimed the stairs had shifted unexpectedly. Others swore that they saw nothing—no trick step, no loose stones, just an unseen force pulling him down.

It didn’t matter.

The moment he was carried off, you finally allowed yourself to smile.

Not a smirk. Not a grin. Just the smallest, most satisfied twitch of your lips.

Sebastian caught it. Because of course he did. He had been standing beside you the whole time. Silent. Still. Watching from the moment that asshole Slytherin stumbled earlier that morning to the moment he was carted off for medical attention.

And now? Now, he just exhaled, long and slow, shaking his head as his mouth curved into something unreadable.

“You’re dangerous,” he murmured, voice low.

You hummed, tilting your head in faux curiosity. “Am I?”

Sebastian turned fully then, facing you. His gaze searched your face, for guilt perhaps. For remorse. For something that might suggest you hadn’t meant for it to happen.

But there was nothing.

No trace of hesitation. No flicker of shame.

You were calm, collected, an completely unapologetic. Because nobody talked about Anne Sallow like that without consequence.

Sebastian blinked. Then, to your absolute delight, he grinned. Wide. Slow. A sharp, wicked thing.

“Yeah. You're very dangerous” he said, almost in awe.

Your stomach twisted. You ignored it. Instead, you just shrugged, voice as casual as ever.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sebastian’s grin deepened.

The Poppy Incident

Poppy Sweeting was one of the best people you knew.

Kind-hearted, patient, and too good for the world, really. She spent more time in the company of magical creatures than she did with most people, and honestly? You couldn't blame her.

Because people could be cruel.

You first heard it one afternoon in the courtyard. A group of girls whispering amongst themselves, giggling behind their hands. You hadn’t been paying much attention—until you heard her name.

"Honestly, she’s weird."

"I know, right? It’s like she’d rather date a bloody Hippogriff than an actual person."

"Wouldn’t be surprised if she actually has."

Laughter, sharp and mocking. Like Poppy Sweeting was a joke. Like she was less than because she chose kindness over cruelty, creatures over people who didn’t deserve her time in the first place.

You turned your head and watched as one girl—a Hufflepuff, ironically—rolled her eyes, shaking her head in exaggerated exasperation.

"Beast-lover," she muttered, nose wrinkled like the word itself was distasteful. "It's unnatural, really. No wonder she doesn't have any friends outside of her precious Mooncalves."

Something cold and sharp settled in your chest.

You had no doubt Poppy had heard it. She was standing just a few paces away near the fountain, hands clenched tight at her sides.

She didn’t react. Didn’t turn. Didn’t say anything. She just exhaled, slow and quiet, like she was forcing herself to let it go.

You wouldn’t.

The next morning, that very same Hufflepuff woke up covered in fur.

Not all over, just her face.

A thick, fluffy coat of golden-brown fuzz, soft as a Puffskein, sprouting in wild patches across her forehead, cheeks, and chin.

According to Poppy, the screams started immediately, and the entire girls dormitory had woken up to it.

The girl, who turned out to be a fifth-year, had flown into a hysterical panic, shrieking as she bolted for a mirror, hands frantically scrubbing at her face like she could rub the fur away.

She couldn’t.

It was a very specific hex. One that lasted exactly one week.

Professor Ronen was baffled.

Madam Blainey was thoroughly fascinated.

And Professor Howin, bless her, had cooed over her like she was the most adorable thing she’d ever seen. You had a front row seat to the entire thing during Beasts class.

“This is truly fascinating,” she’d said, holding the girl’s chin and turning her face slightly toward the light. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen transfiguration manifest quite like this! And so soft—feels just like a Kneazle’s coat, doesn’t it?”

The best part? It wasn’t harmful. It wasn’t painful. Just… humiliating.

You considered it a job well done.

When Howin had dismissed you for lunch, Poppy pulled you aside. She didn't say anything at first. Just stared.

You blinked at her, tilting your head. “Everything alright?”

Poppy squinted. Narrowed her eyes slightly. Huffed.

"You did that, didn’t you?"

You blinked again.

Because Poppy—sweet, gentle, pacifist Poppy—did not accuse people of things. Which meant she was completely certain.

You just smiled, giving her your most innocent expression. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Poppy just sighed, shaking her head. But then—just for a moment—she smiled.

Small. Subtle. Grateful.

Like she knew exactly what you’d done. Like she knew there was no use arguing, no point in telling you not to go to such lengths for her.

And then, without a word, she reached out and squeezed your hand.

The Natsai Incident

You had never liked Callum Thorne.

Seventh-year. Gryffindor. Arrogant. Loud-mouthed. The kind of person who had never been told no in his life and walked through Hogwarts like the world owed him something.

You’d tolerated him for years, mostly because you hadn’t needed to interact with him much. But this? This was different.

You were starting the day with Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Hecat had yet to arrive, leaving the class unsupervised and giving Thorne the perfect opportunity to make a scene.

Natty was speaking with Poppy near the front of the room, voice calm as she explained something about the Ministry’s policies on magical creatures in Africa compared to Britain. She wasn’t being loud, wasn’t even arguing, just explaining.

That’s when Thorne scoffed.

“Merlin’s sake, Onai, give it a rest,” he sneered from the back of the room, tossing his quill onto his desk with an exaggerated huff. “Do you ever get tired of standing on that bloody soapbox of yours?”

The room went still.

Natty turned, slow and deliberate, her expression unreadable, regarding him with that same poised, unshaken calm that made her such a force to be reckoned with.

“I was simply having a discussion,” she said smoothly. “No one is forcing you to listen, Thorne.”

“Right,” he drawled. “Except you never shut up about it. Always talking about ‘justice’ and ‘change’ like you think you’re going to fix the whole bloody world.” He smirked. “News flash, Onai—no one cares.”

A few of his friends chuckled.

Your fingernails dug into your palm.

Natty didn’t react—not outwardly, anyway. She just exhaled, slow and measured, and turned back to Poppy like his words had been nothing more than an inconvenience.

You? You were already plotting his downfall, and luckily, Callum Thorne was a creature of habit.

He always stayed out after curfew to flirt with whatever unfortunate girl he had chosen that week, and he always went up to the Astronomy Tower afterwards with his friends to play cards and drink whatever contraband alcohol they’d smuggled into the castle.

Which made him the perfect target.

That night, as the seventh-year tidied up the cards, stretching and yawning, likely already thinking about his warm bed waiting for him—

His legs froze in place. Not a Full Body-Bind. No, this was different.

A soft, subtle hex. A slow, creeping sensation, his feet adhering to the stone beneath him, then his calves, then his thighs.

By the time he realized something was wrong, it was too late.

He tried to step forward—failed. Tried to yank himself free—failed.

And then—with agonizing slowness—his entire body began to lift off the ground. No warning. No control.

He drifted upward, weightless, helpless, arms flailing as the stone ceiling came closer and closer—

And then, with a soft thump, he was stuck. Face-down, body pressed flat against the Astronomy Tower ceiling.

His screaming started immediately.

Loud. Panicked. A complete meltdown.

His friends, who had started their walk down the tower came bolting back up the stairs at the sound of his shouting.

“What the—?” one of them started, eyes wide as they gawked at the ceiling.

“Thorne?” another asked, dumbfounded.

You bit the inside of your cheek, holding back laughter as you hid beneath your disillusionment charm.

“GET ME DOWN!” Thorne bellowed, arms and legs flailing uselessly against the stone. “WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THIS?”

His friends stared, uselessly waving their wands, muttering counterspells that only resulted in Thorne spinning in slow circles, howling in distress.

When they realized they were utterly helpless, panic completely set in.

“What do we do?” one of them asked, looking between the others with wild eyes. “Should we get a professor?”

Thorne snarled. “NO! DO NOT—”

But it was too late. Because at that very moment, the Astronomy Tower door swung open once again, and a very tired, very unimpressed Professor Shah stepped inside.

There was a long, painful beat of silence.

Shah took in the scene.

The stack of contraband firewhiskey bottles on the table. The panicked seventh-years, wands still drawn, looking entirely too guilty. And Callum Thorne, still face-down, circling against the ceiling, hissing every curse word known to wizardkind.

She sighed, long and slow, as if she had simply had enough of this entire generation of students. Then, with an effortless flick of her wand, she cast a single spell.

And gravity returned. All at once. Thorne plummeted like a sack of bricks.

The landing was spectacular. A glorious, sprawling heap, limbs tangled, robes askew, one shoe missing entirely. His friends didn’t even try to catch him.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then—

“Hospital Wing,” Shah said simply, rubbing her temples. “Now.”

Thorne was half-carried, half-dragged down the tower steps, groaning the entire way.

And you?

You slept soundly that night.

By morning, half the school had heard the story.

"Did you hear about Thorne? Got stuck to the Astronomy Tower ceiling last night."

"He was crying by the time they got him down."

"Serves him right—bloke’s a complete asshole."

And you? You sat perfectly composed at breakfast, casually stirring your tea, listening as his friends panicked about who could have done it.

Sebastian, of course, knew.

He sat beside you, arms folded, lips pressed together, shaking with the effort not to laugh.

Finally, he exhaled, tilting his head toward you.

“You are actually unhinged,” he murmured, utterly delighted.

You simply sipped your tea. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Across the hall, Natty smiled.

Soft. Knowing.

The Sebastian Incident

You had been careful.

For years, you had woven your revenge into the shadows, never once leaving a trace of your involvement in the strange misfortunes that befell those who dared to insult your friends. You were precise, patient, undetectable.

But everyone has a breaking point. And yours? Yours was Sebastian Sallow.

It happened in the Great Hall when Scorpius Malfoy decided to idiotically open his big fucking mouth.

You hadn’t been paying attention to him at first. Why would you? People like Malfoy had never mattered to you. He was just another spoiled pureblood, another self-important waste of a surname who thought his words carried weight simply because he could afford to say them.

But then his voice cut through the din, and he said Sebastian’s name.

"No family name worth a damn, no money, no influence. Honestly, I don’t even know why the professors still put up with Sallow. And he’s an orphan, isn’t he?"

One of his friends nodded, grinning like this was some kind of joke. Like Sebastian Sallow’s entire life was nothing more than a punchline.

Malfoy snorted. "So he's got dead parents, a dead uncle, and a crippled sister who’ll probably never set foot in the wizarding world again. Wouldn’t be surprised if he ends up rotting in the same gutter he came from."

The words landed like a curse.

Sebastian had been mid-conversation with you, fork in hand, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he teased you about something inconsequential—some throwaway joke that would have normally earned him an eye roll and a shove.

But now? Now, he wasn’t moving. Not speaking. Not breathing. Just silent.

Rigid.

Like the weight of those words had turned him into stone.

And something inside you snapped.

It was almost funny, in retrospect, how much effort you had spent perfecting the art of subtlety.

Every step you had taken over the years had been measured, every spell carefully woven into the fabric of coincidence, every act of vengeance so meticulously placed that no one had ever been able to definitively trace it back to you. You had built a flawless reputation, balancing on the razor’s edge between brilliance and menace, justice and mystery.

But now? Now, as you rose from your seat, you weren’t careful at all.

You didn’t move like a shadow, didn’t cloak yourself in misdirection or the comfort of silence. No. This time, you wanted them to see you.

And the moment you stood, the Great Hall stilled.

Students stopped eating, stopped talking, stopped moving altogether. The clatter of plates and goblets faded into a thick, suffocating silence, as if even the walls of Hogwarts itself were holding their breath.

Your voice came out low. Cold.

"Say that one more time, Malfoy."

Scorpius turned lazily, like he hadn’t a care in the world. Like he hadn’t just spat on Sebastian’s entire existence for no other reason than because he could.

And he smirked. Merlin, he smirked. Like you were some insignificant thing, an insect buzzing too close to his ear.

“Oh?” he drawled, tilting his head. “Touched a nerve, have I? Which part got to you, I wonder? The fact that Sallow’s got no family? Or the part where I pointed out that he’s got no future either?”

You took a step forward. You could hear Ominis hissing at you to stop, to think about what you were doing before you got yourself deep into shit, gut you couldn't. Not when it came to your friends.

Not when it came to Sebastian.

Especially when he still hadn't moved. Hadn’t reacted. Hadn’t so much as breathed.

Your hand tightened around your wand, the weight of it comforting, grounding, an extension of the fury curling in your chest.

"You should tread carefully, Scorpius," you murmured, your voice smooth, edged with something lethal. "I know you think you're clever—that you can say whatever you like without consequence, just because you were born into the right family."

Your head tilted slightly, gaze sharp, cutting straight through him.

"But you should know something about me by now."

Malfoy’s smirk faltered just slightly. And then, before he could open his mouth again—

You flicked your wand.

Hard. Fast.

Malfoy's goblet exploded.

A concussive blast of magic sent shards flying, the remnants of his beverage splattering across his pristine uniform like spilled blood. A jagged edge of glass sliced across his hand, thin but deep, and he flinched, eyes snapping down to it with genuine shock.

"If you're going to run your mouth about my friends," you said coolly, watching him clutch his bleeding hand, "then you should be prepared to suffer for it."

Your next spell came before he could react. Before anyone could stop you.

A sharp twist of your wrist, and his mouth was gone.

Not silenced. Not muffled. Just… gone. Smooth, unbroken skin where lips should be, like his voice had simply been erased from existence.

The realization hit him immediately.

His hands shot to his face, clawing at his skin, a muffled scream—horrified, panicked—rising in his throat. He lurched backward, knocking into one of his friends, fingers digging at face like he could carve his lips back into place.

But you weren’t done. Not yet.

You needed something that would etch itself into the bones of this castle, into the minds of every single person watching in stunned silence. Something that told the whole goddamn school that if they so much as breathed wrong about Sebastian again, you would ruin them.

A simple hex would be too merciful. A standard jinx—something temporary, something easily countered—wouldn’t send the right message.

No, you needed something else. Something only you could undo.

Your wand rose, fingers tightening around the handle.

A familiar thrumming sensation curled through your bones, crackling at your fingertips, humming beneath your skin like a storm about to break. Ancient magic—the power that had followed you since the day you first stepped foot in Hogwarts, the magic that had made you different. You had never used it publicly. Never allowed yourself to tap into it in a room full of hundreds of witnesses.

Until now.

Malfoy’s body lurched.

Not by his own will, but by yours, by the ancient, crackling force curling through your veins.

The entire room gasped as he was wrenched upward, his robes twisting violently around him as though an invisible hand had grabbed him by the throat and hauled him into the sky.

He thrashed, or tried to, but the moment he moved, the spell struck.

A jolt of electricity tore through his body.

Not enough to kill. Not enough to cause permanent harm, but enough to make him scream. Or at least, he would have screamed—if he still had a mouth.

Instead, a choked, garbled sound tore from his throat, half agony, half suffocated panic, his limbs seizing as the current snapped down his spine, through his arms and legs.

And you let them watch, let the entire Great Hall bear witness as he hung there, suspended like some grotesque marionette.

And the moment he tried to move again, tried to scratch at where his mouth should be or flail his limbs, another arc of lightning danced across his body, snapping against his skin like a promise that any attempt to fight this would only make it worse.

And he knew. They all knew. He wasn’t getting down until you allowed it. But your arm didn’t waver, you held your wand high, like an executioner delivering final judgment.

Because this? This was a declaration. A statement. A message carved into the very bones of Hogwarts itself.

You do not speak against Sebastian Sallow.

You wondered if he realized that you would have done this a thousand times over. That you would have burned the entire goddamn world for him if he asked.

But before you could do anything more—before you could decide how far you were willing to take this—

A thunderous voice shattered the moment.

"THAT IS ENOUGH!"

The spell snapped. Malfoy dropped. His body crashed onto the table below, sending plates and goblets scattering, silverware clattering to the stone floor. He lay there, twitching, gasping, pathetically small as the last of the magic flickered out of his limbs.

And then—

"You."

Phineas Nigellus Black’s voice was pure ice.

You turned to face him—not a shred of regret, not a flicker of guilt in your expression.

But the Headmaster was raging. His hands were clenched at his sides, his teeth bared in fury.

The entire room was still. Waiting. Holding its breath.

"My office." His voice was low, lethal, like the words themselves were a curse. "Now."

A sharp inhale from someone at the Ravenclaw table. A hushed whisper from a terrified first-year.

No detention. No points docked. Just a direct order from the highest authority in the school.

But it was worth it, because now they knew. Every single person in this room knew.

And as you turned on your heel, heart still pounding with the remnants of power buzzing in your veins—

You caught Sebastian’s eyes one last time.

Still watching, still frozen in place, yet looking at you like you were the most devastating, impossible, extraordinary thing he had ever seen.

And then? The slightest smirk. The most faint, devastatingly admiring grin.

Like he had never, ever wanted anyone more.

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (26 - Death and His Friends)

Chapter Summary: If she hadn’t looked at you the way she did, whispered your name like it was a prayer, melted into you like you were her home—maybe you wouldn’t be here, drunk, half-mad, half-burning alive just to save the scraps of a life that didn’t exist anymore. She should’ve been cruel. Should’ve been indifferent. Should’ve been impossible to love. But Wanda had been none of those things.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 4.9k+ | Chapter Tags: angst, violence, and more angst Warning: graphic violence suicidal thoughts

A/N: More depressing stuff. Two more chapters after this, and we will close Part 2 :) I'm not thrilled about that because I have a lot of catching up to do yikes // More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Warning: graphic violence suicidal thoughts

The night tasted like your own sweat, and then blood that wasn’t yours. It’s not criminal if it’s criminals you were bringing down—one by one. At least that’s what you kept convincing yourself to believe for the past year.

Somewhere between the grit under your boots and the sound of your blade slicing through flesh, you realized that vengeance never tasted as sweet as you once thought it would. It was bitter. The tang of iron lingered stubbornly on your lips a little too long, and even as you wiped your face with a trembling hand, nothing felt cleaner. The city never slept. Nor did you. 

Rest seemingly died with Wanda.

Clint was the only one who understood, or at least he acted like it. When you slipped into the shadows together, he gave you the same name he had been carrying around: Ronin. A wandering vigilante without a master. You wondered if you should have been called something else, because you weren’t convinced that you both didn’t have masters. Grief was the master—it’s what kept you both going.

But perhaps Ronin was enough. It meant a directionless sword turned on those who deserved it. 

You kept a single suitcase with you, living on the road, never staying in one place long enough to remember which city you woke up in. The suitcase was mostly Wanda’s. Her worn jacket was still there, the threads fraying a bit at the cuffs. You used to breathe in its scent, pressing your face into the fabric just to catch a trace of her perfume. But now, it just smelled of you. And every time you zipped it up, you wondered if you were sealing the last fragments of her inside, keeping them safe, trying not to let them slip away the same way she did.

Sometimes, when the adrenaline faded and your heart pounded so loud you couldn’t hear anything else, you turned that jacket into a makeshift pillowcase, holding it close to your chest as if it could hold you back. It never did. If anything, it only reminded you of her absence, the emptiness next to you that you couldn’t fill no matter how many bad people you put six feet under.

The Snap might have happened more than a year ago, but it felt like it had just happened yesterday. Every morning you woke up to an empty horizon, and every night you sank deeper into your mattress. The need to punish someone—anyone—for taking her away was a drumbeat in your chest that just wouldn’t stop.

You caught sight of yourself in a broken window sometimes: blood-smeared and wild-eyed, unrecognizable. You thought, Wanda wouldn’t want to see me like this. The thought made your chest tighten. It wasn’t enough to make you stop, though. Because stopping meant facing the truth that she was never coming back. Stopping meant letting go of that last fragile hope that she’d appear from around the corner, gentle smile on her lips, her hand reaching out for yours again.

Sometimes you wondered if Clint ever had the same thoughts—if the burn of his grief cut him as deeply. You saw it in his eyes when there was a lull in the fight, that distant look that mirrored your own. But you never asked. Maybe you were afraid he’d say no, and you’d realize you were truly alone in this darkness. Or maybe you were even more afraid he’d say yes, and neither of you would know how to crawl out of it once it was spoken aloud.

“Hey,” Clint’s voice pulled you from the haze.

You blinked and looked up to find him dragging two men across the blood-slick floor. They thrashed weakly in his grip, their faces pale, eyes wide with terror. He shoved them forward, and they collapsed at your feet, trembling.

“You can stop anytime,” Clint reminded you. His knuckles were split and raw, his eyes dark with exhaustion. “Just say the word.”

You shook your head. No words were necessary. The sword was already in your hand again. With two swift strikes, it was over. Their bodies crumpled to the ground, lifeless, and the blood pooled beneath them like ink spreading across paper.

In that moment, you realized just how natural this had become. You barely reached for your pistols anymore. Clint stayed for a moment, watching to make sure you finished the job. When the bodies lay still, he turned away without a word and walked off in the opposite direction. You never discussed the logistics of this arrangement. You didn’t know where he slept whenever you tore through a city, crossing names off your lists. You never told him about the apartments you rented either. Your paths only crossed when there was a target—when you were both doing the work that needed to be done.

When his footsteps finally faded into the distance, your hands began to tremble. The sword slipped from your fingers and hit the floor with a sharp, metallic clang. You buried your face in your hands and choked on a sob no one was there to hear.

Outside, sirens wailed in the distance. The bodies you and Clint left outside were horrifying enough to cause a small panic from unsuspecting civilians who were just trying to get home from a hard day’s work. 

Tomorrow, you’d paint the walls red again. But that night, you let yourself break.

For her.

For the life you lost.

For the pieces of yourself you would never get back.

—

You drifted into a dream that felt more alive than the actual world you currently lived in. The sheets were tangled at your ankles. Her hair fanned across the pillow, soft as a sunrise. You had just made love for the second time that night, your skin still singing with the memory of her touch. It was achingly similar to the last night you shared in Wakanda.

Wanda lay beside you, her head resting on your chest, her fingers drawing lazy circles along your ribs. You stared at the ceiling, counting seconds in the silence, wishing you could make time slow down. The battle loomed just hours away, but here—it was just you and her. The world hadn't ended yet.

“You're not sleeping,” she whispered.

You kissed the top of her head. “Neither are you.”

She hummed softly, her breath warm against your skin. “I'm scared,” she admitted. “About tomorrow.”

“Me too,” you said. There was no point in pretending otherwise.

Wanda shifted, propping herself up on one elbow to look at you. She let the sheet fall away, revealing the soft swells of her breast. 

“What if,” you began before Wanda’s nakedness could distract you any further. “What if one of us didn’t make it?”

“I won’t let that happen,” she said, voice caught somewhere between a plea and a promise. “Not to you. Not to me.” Wanda used to gamble her own life without a second thought after Pietro died, as though nothing mattered. But that changed when she found you. “I want to live,” she confessed. “Really live—you know?”

You swallowed the ache in your throat. “Then promise me,” you said. “After this—after Thanos, after all of it—we vanish somewhere quiet.”

She gave you a ghost of a smile, brushed her lips against yours. “I promise.”

Then the dream warped. Wanda looked down at her hands, watched them crumble, every piece of her turning to dust. You lunged for her, desperation burning in your chest, but she disappeared like a whisper in a storm.

—

You woke with a start. Your throat felt dry, and the taste of stale liquor coated your tongue. A throbbing headache pulsed behind your temples—there were at least three empty bottles of something you barely remembered opening, scattered near your feet. Your vision blurred, tears mixing with the afterimages of Wanda’s face. For a second, you forgot where you were. Then reality flooded in like poison.

Anger sank its claws into your gut, white-hot and suffocating. You hated everything: this dingy flat you had borrowed for the night, your own useless heartbeat, the hollow echo of a promise that never stood a chance. You hated yourself. 

And maybe, in that twisted heartbeat of a moment, you hated Wanda too.

If she hadn’t looked at you the way she did, whispered your name like it was a prayer, melted into you like you were her home—maybe you wouldn’t be here, drunk, half-mad, half-burning alive just to save the scraps of a life that didn’t exist anymore.

She should’ve been cruel. Should’ve been indifferent. Should’ve been impossible to love.

But Wanda had been none of those things.

She was warmth in a world that never gave you much. She was soft hands in your hair after a long day, laughter against your throat, breathless kisses under the covers, sunlight pooling over her bare skin in the mornings when the war felt far away. She was the kind of love that seeped into your bones without permission, the kind that made you forget how to live without it.

And now she was gone. And you hated her for that, too.

Wanda’s jacket lay crumpled on a chair, surrounded by the scattered remnants of her things—the ones you carried with you wherever you went, hauling them from place to place, pretending she was with you.

You swept them all up without pausing to think. You stuffed them into a sack as though hoarding contraband. Your fingers trembled around the lighter. One flick—two—and a tiny flame sprang to life, hungry for something to devour. It tasted the edge of the sack, glowing brighter.

The fire spread. You stood there, breathing in sharp, rattling gasps, tears cutting hot paths down your cheeks. Smoke stung your eyes and finally tore you free from whatever madness had taken hold. Horror crashed into you when you realized you were about to let the last pieces of Wanda burn.

“No… no, no, no!”

You dropped to your knees, slapping at the flames with desperate hands. Your shirt caught fire first, eating its way up your sleeve. Pain lashed at your nerves, but fear of losing what was left of her stung a thousand times worse. You fought the blaze until you choked on the smoke and your vision blurred.

When it was over, the room reeked of burnt cotton and scorched flesh. The edges of Wanda’s jacket were singed, blackened holes marring the pattern she once wore. But it was still there—still real in your arms.

Shaking, you pressed it to your chest, ignoring the burn wounds throbbing along your arm. You sank to the floor and closed your eyes. A gust of wind rattled the window, shifting the smoke in heavy swirls, gathering dust with them.

Eventually, you forced yourself to stand. You swayed like a ghost in your own skin, unsteady on your feet, the jacket pressed against your ribs. You surveyed the wreckage before gathering what’s left of Wanda’s belongings and cradling them into your arms, full of regret. 

Wanda had once told you she wanted to live. She had promised you both would run away somewhere untouched by war or duty, but no promise could stand against the universe that swallowed her whole. You felt betrayed by the memory. You felt lost in its wake.

Trembling, you limped toward the sink, your eyes stinging more from grief than any leftover smoke. You tried to douse the throbbing burn on your arm with cold water, but it did little to soothe the ache. 

Everything in you felt rubbed raw.

—

Several weeks bled into each other, and you barely noticed.

Your burns had healed just enough to leave angry pink scars across your arm, but they still stung when you moved too fast. The rest of your body wasn’t much better off. A cracked rib that you refused to see a doctor for. A split lip that wouldn’t stop bleeding every time you bit down in anger or frustration. You told Clint it was all fine, but he wasn’t an idiot—he saw how you winced when you swung your sword, how you downed painkillers like breath mints.

He never said much about it, though. Maybe he figured you’d talk when you were ready—or maybe he was giving you the same distance he needed for himself. Some nights you caught him looking at you with something like pity, but you shook it off. You weren’t Clint’s charity case, and you certainly weren’t interested in a pep talk.

This time, the two of you had rolled into a run-down stretch of a town just outside of Bangkok. The main target was some mid-level crime boss with enough hired guns to make it “a real party,” in Clint’s words. He had briefed you on the specifics: smuggling ring, trafficking, a laundry list of atrocities that, a couple of years ago, would make your skin crawl. Now they simply just  made you more numb to the idea of writing them off the Earth more convincing and assuring.

Even so, a part of you itched with restlessness. The memory of nearly burning Wanda’s things was fresh behind your eyes. You remembered hating her for leaving you—and then hating yourself more for thinking it. You wondered if letting go was the only way to stop hurting, but you were too much of a coward to do that cleanly. So you kept marching toward every fight like you were daring someone else to do it for you.

You crouched beside Clint in the dirty alleyway, listening to the distant thrum of a generator. The rotting stench of garbage and stale sweat clung to the walls, and broken glass crunched beneath your boots. You felt yourself slipping into that cold, steady calm you had come to rely on during missions. 

The plan was simple enough. Clint wanted to get inside the warehouse and dig up every record, ledger, or scrap of intel that could unravel this syndicate from the inside out. You were there to keep the hired guns occupied long enough for him to do it. Neither of you said it, but you both knew you’d be dealing with far more than a handful of guards. And maybe you were counting on that.

It wasn’t just about the mission anymore. A twisted part of you craved the chaos, the rush, the possibility that one stray bullet might make all your nightmares vanish for good. You hated that about yourself—that tiny, traitorous thought kept whispering that maybe, on this night, you wouldn’t bother to dodge when your instincts told you to.

You forced your cracked rib to stop complaining, ignored the dull throb of the burns on your arm. Your split lip had opened up again, you could taste the iron tang of blood on your tongue. Clint glanced your way, arrow nocked. He gave a curt nod, and you returned it. 

Moments later, you slipped through the back entrance, steel blade in hand. The first guard never even turned around—by the time he heard your footsteps, your sword was already cutting through muscle and bone. There was no time for him to scream.

Clint veered right, making for the office where he could lock down the ledgers and hacked systems. You pushed ahead, weaving through the maze of crates. Every time your sword cut through the air, you marveled at how weightless it felt. By all rights, your arms should’ve given out—hell, you’d swung this thing over a hundred times tonight—but your body kept moving. Running on autopilot. Running on adrenaline, anger, and a deep, gnawing ache you refused to acknowledge.

Shouts echoed in the distance as more men poured into the corridor. Part of you recognized this was a setup—that they knew you were here. But instead of warning Clint or retreating, you stepped out into the open, letting them see you, letting them surge toward you with guns and knives raised. It was suicide, and you knew it. A hollow part of you almost wished one of them would be good enough to make you bleed out on the cold cement floor.

They weren’t. You cut through them with eerie precision, each blow landing home. Blood splattered across your suit, red mist hanging in the air. Gunfire stuttered behind you, but you didn’t so much as flinch. A bullet sliced past your ribs, carving a fresh line of pain, but you barely registered it. Your focus stayed locked on the next body, the next target—because right now, that was all that mattered.

Eventually, the corridor fell silent except for your ragged breaths. Men lay sprawled across the floor, each one worse off than the last. You stepped gingerly over the bodies as if they were pavement, as you made your way back to Clint.

Out of the corner of your eye, Clint burst from the office, a black duffel slung over his shoulder, stuffed with whatever intel he’d scraped together. He gave you another nod. You didn’t nod back. You just stood there, blood in your mouth, heartbeat in your ears.

And then you turned. A mistake.

A single gunshot shattered the suffocating silence. The impact slammed into you from behind, just beneath your shoulder blade. You had enough time to feel the white-hot shock before your muscles went slack.

Blood bloomed across your suit, warm and sticky. You tried to breathe, but the air refused to come. Your knees gave out, sending you crashing onto the cold concrete. Vaguely, through the haze, you heard Clint’s shout—angry, desperate—followed by the heavy thud of another body hitting the ground.

Your vision swam, black creeping in at the edges. You tried to inhale again, but each breath rattled uselessly in your throat.

In the final moment before you lost consciousness, your thoughts drifted to Wanda. You almost laughed at the idea that you'd ever believed you could hate her. Because the truth was—you'd have given anything to have her there, just once more, before you took your last breath.

For the first time in months, you smiled.

—

You woke to white. 

White walls, white sheets, white lights overhead. For a moment, you wondered if you were dead. If this was the afterlife, maybe some waiting room before the pearly gates. But the thought barely lasted a heartbeat. You remembered what you’d done over the past year—how many lives you’d ended, how many lines you’d crossed, all in the name of vengeance that still left you hollow. No way in hell heaven would open its doors for you.

Then you thought of Wanda. If heaven existed, she’d be its ambassador. But the thought turned bitter almost instantly—because if she was up there, somewhere beyond all this, and you were still down here, waiting for oblivion to take you, what did that say? A wave of sorrow washed over you so fierce it almost had you choking on your own breath. You pressed your eyes shut, wishing you had done every damned thing differently.

Your skull throbbed with a dull ache, and your body refused to move in one solid piece. You felt bandages, tight across your chest, your shoulder, the place on your arm where your burns still festered. A monitor beeped somewhere near your head, an annoying reminder that you weren’t free of your body yet.

The door creaked open. Soft footsteps. You cracked your eyes to see a woman in a white uniform—like everything else in the room—walking in with a clipboard pressed to her side. She said something in Thai, her tone calm and professional. You stared at her, blinking, the words tumbling around your already-battered mind. 

She paused, probably recognizing your blank expression. Then she switched to English, the smooth shift of her voice almost startling. “Hello,” she said gently. “I’m Doctor Kia. How are you feeling?”

You tried to answer, but your tongue felt thick, your mouth dry. Instead, you managed a small croak, which was enough for her to spring into action and offer you a cup with a straw. You sipped slowly, the water cool against your parched throat.

“Your injuries were quite severe,” she went on, scanning your chart. “The bullet punctured your right lung. There was significant internal bleeding. You also have older injuries—burns, possibly cracked rib that didn’t heal properly. We’ve taken care of the worst of it, but you’ll need time, medication, and rest.”

You didn’t say anything. It all felt surreal—like she was a judge listing your crimes rather than a doctor reading your chart. In your half-dazed mind, you wondered if heaven would put you through the same process if you showed up at its gates. Would they read off every name you’d killed, every line you’d crossed, before slamming the doors in your face? Probably.

Doctor Kia’s voice droned on but you’d stopped listening to specifics the moment she mentioned internal bleeding and fractured bones. She might as well have been describing someone else’s broken body. You had no idea why you were still breathing, anyway.

She stepped closer to the bed, her brows pulled tightly together. You felt her gaze on you like a spotlight, bright and uncomfortable. “How did you get these injuries?” she asked, voice quiet, just above a whisper.

You shifted your eyes away, refusing to meet her stare. A cold wave of anger or shame—maybe both—knotted in your stomach. You didn’t feel like conversation, certainly not about the life you’d carved out of your own misery. She’d leave eventually if you kept silent. Once she was gone, you could slip away too.

But Doctor Kia didn’t leave. She hovered there, determined, tapping her pen against the clipboard. Finally, she said something about women trapped in cycles of violence, about the importance of speaking up, of reaching out for help. Her words dripped with earnestness, like she’d seen one too many battered wives pass through her ward with too many excuses. Maybe she thought you were one of them.

The noise in your head rose to a roar, drowning out every word. The guilt, the hate, the sting of Wanda’s memory—it all churned under your skin. You felt your teeth clench, your jaw tighten. You turned your head, shooting her a look that begged her to stop talking.

She didn’t read the warning. Another sentence tumbled out of her mouth, something about how you weren’t alone in this.

“Stop,” you bit out, harsher than you meant.

Doctor Kia paused, her mouth open, eyes full of concern. For a long second, neither of you moved. You pressed your palms into the stiff sheets, ignoring the pain. You saw her sympathy and wanted to throw it back in her face.

But you said nothing more. She seemed to get the message. Her shoulders stiffened, and she exhaled through her nose, carefully shutting whatever speech she had prepared. Wordlessly, she scribbled a note on the clipboard, turned on her heel, and left you alone with the sound of your own labored breathing.

As soon as Doctor Kia’s footsteps faded into the corridor, you tried to move. You propped yourself on one elbow, teeth clamped against the groan that rattled in your chest. The pain was white-hot—sharp enough to steal your breath. She hadn’t been exaggerating about your injuries. A bullet to the lung, a second degree burn, and a cracked rib weren’t exactly sprained ankles. Right now, you felt every bit of it.

Still, your mind fixated on one thing: escape. You forced yourself upright, hissing at the stab of agony under your ribs. Your vision blurred at the edges, black spots dancing. If you pushed any harder, you’d pass out again.

When you looked to your right, you spotted your bag sitting on a plastic chair. Clint must have dumped it there before taking off. After a second, you reached out, slow and shaky, managing to snag the edge of the bag and drag it closer.

Your hand fumbled with the zipper, every movement a fresh ache. Inside, you found your phone tucked beneath a spare shirt and some other essentials you’d barely remembered packing. Relief flooded you when you saw it was still charged. The screen lit up, one new message glowed at the top:

GONE FISHING. STAY PUT. BE BACK SOON. 

Your thumb hovered over the keys, ready to tap out a warning, to say, “Be careful, don’t get yourself killed.” But you stopped. After everything, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell Clint what to do, couldn’t bring yourself to admit you still cared if he lived or died. In the end, you erased every letter you typed and let the phone slip from your grasp onto the bed. The pain was getting worse, demanding you stop moving.

—

You must have dozed off, because the next thing you felt was a sudden prick at your arm. Your eyes shot open on instinct. You jerked away and grabbed the wrist of whoever was leaning over you. The nurse yelped, dropping the syringe. She stumbled back, wide-eyed, clearly not expecting a sedated patient to lash out like that.

Your ribs screamed in protest at the sudden movement, and you hissed in pain. The nurse was already halfway to the door, muttering anxious apologies and something you couldn’t decipher. She fled before you could even get an apology out.

A few minutes later, the door swung open again. Doctor Kia. Her white uniform was rumpled, her hair barely tamed by the clip at the back of her head.

“What happened?” she demanded, glancing from your tense posture to the scattered supplies on the floor.

“I was asleep,” you muttered. “Didn’t know what she was doing.”

“She’s trying to help you, Y/N.” A sigh escaped her, heavy with exasperation. “You’re not exactly making it easy.”

You sank back against the pillows, turning onto your side—the uninjured one—and shutting your eyes as if that might dismiss her. The bed creaked under the slightest movement. “It’s fine,” you said. “Let me sleep.”

Doctor Kia ignored your dismissive tone. She stooped, picking up the fallen syringe and examining it. Then she approached you and started prepping the cotton and alcohol. 

When you opened your eyes again, she was poised by your IV stand. “What are you doing?” you asked.

“Pain relief,” she answered curtly. “You obviously need it. Your hair’s soaked with sweat, your lips are white, and your cheeks are pale.” Her gaze flicked over you, calculating. “Your body is telling you it can’t handle the pain anymore.”

“I don’t need—”

Whatever protest you were going to make died on your tongue as she slid the needle into your arm with cold efficiency. It was rather more painful than you were expecting. You caught a flicker of satisfaction in her eyes—smug, almost. Maybe that was her little way of getting back at you—for being such a nightmare of a patient.

The sedative worked fast. Within moments, your limbs felt heavier, and that razor-sharp edge of agony dulled to a distant throb. Exhaustion swept through your veins like a black tide, and your eyelids drooped into a deeper sleep.

—

Two days later, your body finally recovered enough for you to climb down a six-story building. Or at least, you were counting on it. You couldn’t stay here anymore, caged in that white-walled room. So you waited until midnight to make sure there were barely any staff roaming the halls—then slid out of bed with a grunt and stuffed your belongings into your bag.

The second your feet hit the floor, your healing wounds reminded you they weren’t done complaining. Your ribs screamed, your shoulder twinged, and a dull headache pounded in the back of your skull. But you clenched your teeth and kept moving, ignoring the beads of sweat that broke out on your forehead.

You’d just made it to the hallway when Doctor Kia appeared at the opposite end, spotting you with a startled frown. “What are you doing?” she asked, striding closer.

You exhaled hard. “Leaving.”

Her eyes dipped to your half-buttoned shirt, the fresh bandages peeking out beneath. “You’re in no condition to leave. At least wait until we can—”

You cut her off by thrusting a wad of bills into her hand—easily three times what this hospital stay was worth. She looked down at the money, stunned and worried.

“Keep the change,” you muttered. “Use it for…whatever.”

She clutched the cash, glancing from it to you, her eyebrows knitting in concern. “You shouldn’t be going yet. Your injuries—”

“I’ll manage.”

There was a beat of silence. You both knew you were a walking disaster, barely held together by gauze and painkillers. But the conversation ended there. You had no intention of listening to another lecture.

Slowly, Doctor Kia closed her hand around the money. Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t try to stop you. Maybe she realized it was pointless. Maybe she sensed that you’d tear your stitches rather than stay another minute.

Without another word, you turned your back on the sterile corridor. Every step jarred your ribs, made your chest ache, but you forced yourself onward. You didn’t look back, and you didn’t let yourself think about how your body was screaming for rest.

This place had never been a refuge—it was just another prison in a world that stopped making sense the day Wanda faded into dust. And so you limped into the daylight, still in one piece, more or less, but not sure how many more pieces you had left to lose.

[cece693]

Stop Talking (Stefan Salvatore x GN! Reader)

Summary: You loved him and he loved you too, but his actions spoke louder than words. Tired of watching him run off to save Elena every time, you understood it would always be her.

tags: heartbreak, short work, breaking up, no happy ending, angst, reader knows better

You loved him, and he loved you too, but deep down, you always knew that compared to Elena, you were nothing. When you first started dating Stefan, you were naive enough to believe that your love would be enough—that you could somehow erase Elena from his heart and mind. But not even a month in, the painful truth began to reveal itself.

Even though Stefan assured you that Elena and Damon were happy together, it was painfully obvious that he was just waiting for them to break up. The moment she was free, he’d be knocking on her door, ready with endless reasons for her to return to his side.

You saw it time and time again—how Stefan would drop everything to run to Elena’s aid whenever she was in trouble, no matter how small the crisis.

There were days when you couldn’t even get out of bed, dark thoughts looming over your head, and Stefan was nowhere to be found. The loss of your mother was a time when you desperately needed your boyfriend’s arms around you, only to discover he was halfway across the country because Elena needed help finding the cure. When you needed him most, he was absent. But god forbid Elena gets a papercut—he would be the first on her doorstep, ready with a band-aid.

You couldn’t take it anymore, so you made the hardest decision of your life. You packed your bags and left the Salvatore house without a word to anyone. You couldn’t bear the thought of a confrontation, of hearing Stefan make empty promises, only to fall into his trap once more. Instead, you left a letter, hoping it would explain what you couldn’t say aloud.

When Stefan eventually found the letter, his heart sank as he looked around your room and noticed everything was gone. With trembling hands, he picked up the folded paper on the bed, bracing himself for what he knew was coming. The letter was short, but every word cut through him like a dagger:

I wish I could remain oblivious to what’s occurring, but I can’t keep pretending. I see how you look at her, how you rush to her side whenever she needs you. I know you’ll never love me the way you love her, and I don’t blame you for it, Stefan, but I can’t keep hurting the both of us.

I deserve to be someone’s first choice, and you need to be with the person who provides you with the happiness you deserve. So with a heavy heart, I say goodbye. Don’t try to find me.

As he finished reading, panic gripped Stefan. He immediately grabbed his phone, dialing your number repeatedly, each ring that went unanswered deepening his despair. Desperation took hold as he ran out to the woods, hoping to catch your scent, to find some trace of where you might have gone. But the earth had already swallowed any clues.

He went through town, asking everyone he could think of if they had seen you, if they knew where you might have gone—but no one had any answers. It was as if you had vanished completely, leaving behind only the letter and the ache in his chest.

It was then, in the silence that followed, that Stefan realized his love for you—a love he had been too blind to see, too late to recognize. You were gone, and he was left alone, with nothing but the regret of what could have been.

[jakeyispuppy]

SINGLE FATHER | JAKE SIM

🔞 Pairing: Jake Sim Single Dad! x Female Reader Naughty Girl!

🔞 Summary: The reader needs a place to live after being practically kicked out of her previous apartment and left on the street. Fortunately, Jake, a single father, was looking for someone interested in renting the spare room in his apartment, and without hesitation, the reader accepts the offer, thinking it would be easy to live next to the man who had made her fantasize at night from the first day she saw him. Will she let herself be carried away by Jake's flirting or will she think twice before ending up between his sheets?

🔞 Genre: Smut.

🔞 Words: 8K.

🔞 Warnings: Jake Dominant!, Degradation, Vulgar Language, Choking, Mild Choking, Unprotected Sex, Name-Calling, Age Gap, Nipple Stimulation, Orgasm Denial, Explicit Smut, Nipple Play, Cock Teasing, Overstimulation, Masturbation, Getting Caught in the Act. Appearances by Stray Kids' Lee Know, Felix, Han, and Chan, also mentions Giselle from Aespa. (Sorry if I missed any tags)

Song I recommend listening to while reading: Muse - Isabel LaRosa.

You arrived back at your apartment too late, as usual, after your shift at the bar where you worked ended. You took off your shoes and fell onto the couch, nearly dying of exhaustion, but what could you do? It was that or nothing. You'd already tried several job interviews that ended in either not getting hired or being fired five days later. Strangely, the only place that hadn't fired you yet was the bar where you started working after finishing college and practically kicking yourself out of your parents' house, but it wasn't a topic you wanted to bring up. You prayed every day that you wouldn't get fired from the bar, or else you'd be screwed. You didn't even have enough to pay the rent, so you didn't want to imagine what would happen if you got fired. Yes, you were probably out on the street, begging on a street corner.

Thinking about all of that, you collapsed on the couch, forgetting an important fact: tomorrow, and how you had to face the old ogre, the owner of the building where you lived, and pay the rent or ask for a payment as usual.

• • •

You woke up suddenly to the loud banging at your door. Your hair was all disheveled, with a few strands of hair stuck in your mouth and maybe a little drool on the outside. You looked horrible at that moment. But you barely woke up and checked the time on your phone, which was almost about to turn off. Exactly, it was noon. How had you slept so long? You asked yourself, walking slowly to open the door. You saw the landlord standing at your door and frowned, realizing that today was your last day to pay the one-month rent the man had given you. But as always, you'd forgotten, and now you were screwed.

"Miss Y/N, I hope you have my money ready," the man demanded, looking at you seriously.

You swallowed hard, seeing his imposing gaze. You didn't have a penny, and you had no excuses either. But you hoped he'd give you another chance.

"Mr. Kim, I don't have it, but if you give me a few days..."

"I don't want any more excuses, kid! I've given you more than a month to pay your debts, and I want you out of the apartment within the hour. Understood!" The middle-aged man interrupted you, raising his voice.

"Okay," you murmured, lowering your gaze, feeling your eyes water. Where the hell would you go now?

That man left, leaving you alone. You closed the door slightly, leaning against it until you fell to the floor with your knees up to your chest. You were screwed. What you feared most had come true, and you had no choice but to find another place or end up on the streets.

You already imagined him, under a newspaper; sleeping on a bench in the middle of the cold night, begging for handouts and On every corner. It was a fucking nightmare!

That's what you thought, but sooner or later you realized that this was your life. Whether you wanted it or not, you only had an hour to vacate the place, and no one was going to lend a hand.

After crying, packing your few things, and continuing to cry, you were ready to leave. Mr. Kim extended his hand for the keys, and you gave them to him with difficulty, starting to leave that building. Everything you'd built was over; your life was over.

You walked down the street for a while, looking everywhere for a cheap place, but strangely enough, they were all expensive, and the cheapest ones didn't even have a bathroom. You were like that all day until night fell and you had to go to your job at the bar; it was the only place you had left, so you couldn't afford to lose your job too.

Your coworker, Christopher Bang, looked at you strangely when he saw you walk in with your bags and your downcast expression. He left his post at the bar and approached you, worried.

"Y/N?" He took you by the shoulders, making you look at him. "What happened to you? Why do you show up like this?" Chris bombarded you with questions, somewhat confused and at the same time worried, seeing you like this.

That boy had become your only and best friend since you arrived at that bar, so you couldn't help it and you collapsed on him, letting your pent-up tears flow.

"No... I have nowhere else to go," you hiccuped, tears falling down your cheeks. "They evicted me, Chris." You cried even harder like a little girl, and Chris wrapped you in his arms, giving you a comforting hug.

"You can stay at my apartment today, then we'll see where you'll stay." He wiped your tears away, cooing softly. "Hey!" Stop crying, you're going to snot. You couldn't help but laugh at what he said, feeling a little better.

So, if Christopher was your friend, why didn't you just stay and live with him?

Well, the answer was simple: the guy lived with seven other guys, so... it's not like you'd fit in his small apartment; you'd be a hindrance to him.

• • •

After your shift at the bar, Chris took you to his apartment, letting you in while he carried your bags inside, but the loud male voices of two people arguing took you both by surprise. It was early in the morning, almost 3:30, so how could there be two people yelling and cursing at each other as if they didn't know they had neighbors next door? You were surprised they hadn't called the police yet.

Once you were both inside, you saw two guys yelling at the TV while playing video games, cursing each other. You knew who they were, since you'd previously visited Christopher's apartment. Han Jisung and Felix Lee, two of his younger roommates.

"Oh, hi, Y/N!" Felix shouted, startling you. He was still staring at the screen, yelling at Jisung not to get killed.

You laughed and snuggled a little closer to Chris, shyly watching them. There was too much testosterone in the air for your liking.

"Hey, Felix..."

Jisung turned around when he heard you and smiled at you.

"Oh, hi, Y/N... Don't you s--- Fuck, Felix, move!"

Yeah, too much testosterone for your liking.

Chris laughed and nudged you, making you laugh too.

"Come on, I'll take you to my room," he said, placing his hand on your back to guide you.

You said goodbye to Felix and Jisung—who didn't even realize you were talking to them—and followed Chris to his bedroom.

"I guess you'll have no problem settling in. Make yourself comfortable. I'll sleep on the couch when I send those brats to bed," he said, leaving your bags next to the bed.

"Thanks," you murmured, giving him a closed-lipped smile.

Chris shook his head and ruffled your hair, making you laugh and groan at his affectionate gesture, but also somewhat annoying to you.

"It's nothing. You know I'd do anything for you," he said, moving away from you to approach the door. "Get some rest. You'll see that tomorrow will be a better day."

Without further ado, Chris closed the door and left you there alone. You let out a long sigh and sat down on the bed, taking off your shoes. You assumed you were going to try to sleep.

But then a thought struck you... You couldn't sleep peacefully until you found a place to live that was cheap, comfortable, cozy, and, if you could, had a roommate who was calm and tidy. Determined, you took your laptop out of your backpack and opened it, connecting to the apartment's Wi-Fi to start looking for apartments for rent or to share with someone else.

Yes, you were going to achieve your goal even if you had to spend the night awake...

• • •

Your hair was all over your face while you slept in a bad position on the bed. Your laptop was hanging off the edge of the bed, about to fall off, and low mumbles were coming out of your mouth. Chris entered the room, making a disgruntled face at your awkward position and quickly He moved, grabbing your laptop before it crashed to the floor.

He picked it up and saw it was still on, noticing how many applications there were for apartments for rent. Chris chuckled and sat down on the bed, placing the laptop on his lap. He scrolled down a bit, searching through the options, and then found a nice apartment in the middle of the city. It didn't mention the price, though. He did say they offered a room with all the amenities, and he only had to worry about paying half the rent.

You woke up startled when Chris shook you like the world was about to end.

"Fuck! Is the earth shaking or something?!" You moaned, still half asleep, brushing your hair out of your face. "Why the f--"

Chris almost shoved the laptop over your face, blinding you with the light.

"I can't see anything!" You rubbed your eyes from the pain the sudden light caused. "Don't do that!"

"Come on! Look at this!" he yelled at you, causing you to grab the laptop, which almost slipped from your hands due to his nervousness.

You stared for a moment, not understanding what was happening until you saw what Chris had seen minutes before: a nice apartment in the middle of the city. Strangely, it didn't mention the rent. But it did offer a room with all the amenities available, and the tenant only had to worry about paying half the rent. God, that was the best deal I could have ever had!

You let out a scream of happiness, and your laptop flew out, landing on the bed as you hugged Chris; happiness flooded your face.

"I found it!"

"You found it!"

"Would you all stop screaming like fucking lunatics! Some of us are trying to sleep!" You both fell silent as you saw Minho slam the door open, looking at you both with a sour face.

"Sorry," you apologized.

"Fucking crazy people," Minho grumbled, and finally left the room, slamming the door.

You looked at Chris, and both of you burst into laughter like two drunks laughing at the air; at your most intoxicated point.

"We definitely have to go see that apartment!" you said, raising your voice in excitement.

"Yes, we have to go today!"

You both shouted helplessly, causing an angry Minho to open the door again and start chasing you around the apartment.

"What did I just tell you, you sons of bitches?!"

• • •

And there you were next to Chris, in front of that apartment that looked expensive at first glance; but not too expensive. You could tell it was quite large from the outside, so you didn't want to imagine how big it would be on the inside. You could live there with about ten people and there would still be room left, not to mention that the place was a damn condo. You wondered why the owner wanted to rent it out when he could just sell it and keep a large sum of the money.

"So..." Chris cleared his throat to get you to stop staring at the door. "Ring the bell, idiot!"

"I know, I'm just wondering what kind of person the owner might be," you complained, crossing your arms as if your argument was the best one of all.

Chris rolled his eyes and reached for the bell to ring it for you, since you weren't going to make up your mind anytime soon. You swatted at him, watching Chris grimace in disgust, taking his hand away from it when he saw your agitated shake of his head.

"Don't tell me you've already changed your mind?"

"It's not that," you grumbled. "What if he's a murderer or something? You never know, he could be a pervert or a criminal."

"Crazy." Chris rolled his eyes again, then slapped his forehead. "Forbid me from coming with you to something like this next time. You're too indecisive!"

You nervously bit your lower lip and rethink your own existence. Maybe you should keep looking; this wasn't the one. Yes, Chris was right; you were too indecisive and distrustful of these things.

"You know what, it's better..."

Your words were cut short when the door opened, revealing a man in his thirties, or maybe younger, standing in front of it with his arms crossed.

"Hi," your friend greeted, smiling awkwardly.

For your part, you stared at him. Was he... handsome? God, yes... You were screaming internally just looking at him: Brown hair, slightly long, big eyes like a watchful puppy's, a thin nose, lips so full and kissable, a defined jaw, a well-built body, and that damn sleeveless shirt that showed off his arms. You were captivated, dizzy, and damn, you wanted to live there even if you had to give everything you didn't even have!

"Do you need anything?" the man asked, raising an eyebrow.

You reacted, embarrassed, realizing you were staring at him too much. He probably thought you were a weirdo!

"Um... I... The ad..." you stammered, feeling intimidated by his gaze.

Chris took you by the shoulders and spoke for you, breaking you out of that awkward moment.

"Yes, My friend is interested in her offer." Chris smiled kindly and pushed you forward. "Well, I'll go... I'll wait for you downstairs, Y/N!"

You saw Chris literally run away, giving a thumbs-up before getting into the elevator and finally disappearing from your sight. Damn him! He'd left you alone with that hot man!

You mentally slapped yourself as you listened to your inner thoughts. How could you be fantasizing about that man who's probably twice your age?! You had to get serious.

"So you're interested in the ad?" You reacted when you heard his voice nodding slightly.

"Yeah... It looks like a good place," you admitted in a low tone, not wanting to meet his eyes.

"Great. Do you want to come in and we'll fix the deal?"

"S-sure," you said quickly.

You heard him laugh and step aside, letting you in.

You entered the apartment, looking around; it was as big as you'd imagined. You noticed the slight mess, making you frown; apparently, it wasn't very tidy. Although you couldn't get discouraged, it was probably still your ideal apartment.

"Sorry about the mess," you looked at him when you heard him speak to you in a sorry tone, scratching the back of his neck. "My son tends to leave his things everywhere, and I don't have enough time to tidy up since I have too much work."

You looked at him, your lips slightly parted. Did he say "son"? Did that mean he was married? You couldn't believe you'd gotten your hopes up for a moment. Well... it's not like you should get your hopes up. You weren't going to seduce him or anything. But he was really hot!

"It's okay, it's normal," you said, not knowing what else to say or do.

"Sit down," he said, leading you to the living room, where you sat down on one of the armchairs, facing him as he sat on the sofa. "Now... I need to make some things clear to you," he explained, getting serious. You swallowed and looked at him closely. "As I mentioned, I have a six-year-old son, and no... I'm not married. If that's what you wanted to know," he gave you a mocking smile, making you blush.

Could he read your thoughts?

"No, I..."

"I know you thought about it," he said, biting his lip slightly as he leaned back on the sofa. "I hope that doesn't stop you from accepting. I really need to rent the room," he explained, returning to his serious expression. "Everyone who comes to see the offer always rejects it for that reason." He made a face of disgust, and you pursed your lips. The truth is, you weren't bothered by living with a small child; you actually loved them.

You shook your head, playing with your hands.

"The truth is, I'm not worried about that. I have no problem with him having a child," you murmured, looking at him with some embarrassment. "You see... It's not like I'm in a great financial situation, so... Can you tell me how much the rent is?" You asked, looking at him closely.

He sighed and ruffled his hair, catching your attention. Every gesture he made was too conspicuous for you and was starting to annoy you.

"Stop calling me formally, I'm not that old... I'm only thirty," he mocked, making you blush. You were seriously starting to believe he could read your thoughts. "Five hundred a month," he finally said, in an indifferent tone.

Your jaw almost dropped at the sound of it. You couldn't afford something like that!

"W-well... Let's come to an agreement!"

You saw him raise an eyebrow curiously.

"Mm..." You thought for a moment and finally spoke. "If you let me have it for three hundred a month, I... I can babysit and take care of your son when you're working," you proposed.

"Really?" He gave a nasal laugh, looking at you mockingly. "I can't accept." He shook his head indifferently. "Besides, don't you work, girl?"

"Sure, but since I work at a bar, I'd have the mornings free," you explained, trying to convince him.

"No, I'm not interested in your proposal."

You felt like crying; you couldn't believe you were losing your first opportunity for a home. God, and to think he was super hot. No, that's not important right now, Y/N. You should focus on winning him over so he'll give you the place!

"Please," you begged. "I can cook, do laundry, I mean... I'll do anything."

He looked at you doubtfully, but finally agreed.

"Fine, but it has to be full-time and I won't pay you," he said coldly, making you almost roll your eyes, but you held back.

"Echo." You stood up from the couch to extend your hand and seal the deal.

You saw him laugh and stand up too, standing so close to you that you could feel his body heat. He clasped your hand in his and shook it lightly before letting go.

"I'm Jake Sim, and you?" he asked with a sly smile.

"Y/N/A." You smiled. "It will be a pleasure living with you and your son."

• • •

You had been living with Jake for about three months, and at first, things were going well. He apparently didn't get along very well with his ex-wife, as they used to argue fiercely on the phone and when they saw each other in person as well. Did you remember the day he saw her for the first time? Once upon a time, she was a total bitch to you, just because she didn't want her "ex-husband living with another woman," so you hated her a little. Jake's little son was a good boy, so you had no problem taking care of him when his father was working. You noticed he looked so much like Jake that you swore he was a miniature copy of him. Too cute for your taste; because you were starting to get attached to him. On Saturdays and Sundays, you worked at the bar and took care of the housework daily. But something wasn't right; you couldn't help but ignore him anymore.

That damn man, too hot for your taste. It had started as light, innocent touches that didn't seem to be malicious, then flirting, whispers in your ear, and to top it all off, now he had the nerve to touch your thigh under the table. He knew it affected you, and you were starting to suspect he did things on purpose. Like this morning:

You left your room still in your pajamas, rubbing your eyes as you walked to the bathroom. Then you saw him: his bare torso, defined abs, and a V-shape formed at the base of his pelvis; the towel hanging from his hips seemed like it might fall to the floor at any moment; and his bulge... Damn, if you could see it, you weren't blind!

You couldn't help but stay still as you stared at him, feeling your panties getting wet from the sight alone. It wasn't fair for him to play with you like that when he simply wouldn't do anything about it.

"Good morning, babe." He smirked, noticing your eyes on him. "I'm hot, aren't I?"

You reacted suddenly and looked away, clearing your throat.

"Good morning," you murmured, ignoring his question. "Are you finished..."

"I already showered, but..." He licked his lips as he approached you. "I can make an exception and join you," he said in a flirtatious tone, looking at you mischievously. "You know... it's a way to gain trust. You're my guest. I must give you the best service and leave you satisfied."

Your lips parted at his words. Heat ran through your body, from your cheeks to your core, which throbbed with excitement. You stepped back as he advanced toward you like a predator enjoying scaring its prey. Once you had no way out, he left you trapped in his arms against the wall, enjoying the restless look you gave him.

"What do you say, bunny?" He whispered in your ear, making your skin crawl.

You mumbled something incoherent as he mocked you, pulling away and walking to his room, leaving you there, embarrassed and horny. He was a bastard!

• • •

"I swear I can't take it anymore!" you complained to your friend Chris while you were on shift at the bar. "Living with Jake is horrible!"

"Really? I think you really like the attention he gives you and you're crazy for him to lay a finger on you." He mocked, making you smack him.

Maybe it was true; he was fucking hot and you could see he knew what he was doing. It's been a while since you've had sex, and maybe your libido was a little high, but you couldn't let yourself get carried away with that kind of thing. Especially not when the advice came from your best friend, who dumped you the day you met Jake.

"You're so immature," you grumbled, grabbing the beers on a tray to carry them to the table where they had ordered.

"Just admit it, you'd love to be that kid's stepmother!" he said in an amused tone, making you roll your eyes.

Without further ado, you walked through the crowd, sighing tiredly. You approached the table, seeing a group of men chatting quietly, but you didn't think much of it and got ready to put the beers on the table.

"Y/N?"

You heard your name, so you looked up, seeing Jake among those guys. Shit!

You didn't say anything and just looked away, placing the tray on your chest, hugging it tightly. You didn't understand what he was doing there, and you didn't understand why he had to look so handsome in that leather jacket, his white shirt unbuttoned at the top three, and his tight black pants that made you fantasize about taking them off under that table. It was a fucking temptation!

"Do you know this beauty, Jake?" asked one of the two guys with him, a dark-haired guy with big eyes as he looked you up and down.

"Yeah..." Jake nodded, not wanting to explain further.

His eyes met yours, and a look of amusement spread across his face, as he bit his lower lip.

"Y/N, go wait on table two!" your boss yelled, so you reacted by quickly turning around, but not before giving Jake one last look.

When your shift ended, you left the bar, rubbing your arms, feeling the cold against your skin. It was a bit late, and Chris's shift had ended a few hours before yours, so you'd have to go alone. You sighed, feeling your eyes heavy with sleep, but a touch on your shoulder made you jump; you were about to scream, but a hand over your mouth stopped you.

"It's just me," Jake murmured into your ear.

He removed his hand from your mouth, and you glared at him, cursing him under your breath for the scare he gave you.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, curious to see him still at the bar. "You should be home with your son by now," you scolded him, making him laugh.

"Don't worry, he's with his mother today," he explained, clicking his tongue.

Yes, the mother of Jake's little son wasn't exactly a woman to admire. You remembered that the first time you saw her, she treated you quite cruelly and almost pulled your hair out just for living with her ex.

"Slut," you muttered under your breath, not realizing Jake had heard you.

"Yeah, that's most of the time, Giselle." He laughed, amused, watching your cheeks turn pink with embarrassment.

"No... I didn't mean to..."

"Hey, it's okay," Jake shook his head, still laughing. "There's a reason I broke up with her." He shrugged, putting his hands in his pants pockets.

There was a rather awkward silence for you after that; you didn't know what to say, and Jake seemed lost in nothingness.

"Are you cold?" he asked suddenly, making you look at him.

"No, don't worry, I'm fine," you lied, hugging yourself closer as the air began to beat a little harder.

"You're a terrible liar," he laughed as he took off his jacket and placed it on your shoulders.

You smiled at his gesture and couldn't help but put his jacket on and thank him.

"Thanks."

"It's nothing, you seem to be sensitive to the cold," he mumbled, shrugging. "Come on, it's getting late."

You raised an eyebrow at him.

"Shall we?"

"Sure, silly." He tapped you on the forehead, making you groan. "Are you planning on going home alone with me here?" he asked, giving you a flirtatious wink, which made you laugh.

"If you insist," you laughed, playing along. "I guess I'll accept a ride home from a hot guy."

You heard him burst out laughing and nod.

"Finally, you admit it. I'm hot for you." He smiled triumphantly, making you roll your eyes.

"You're so conceited sometimes."

"What can I do? I should presume a pretty girl finds me hot."

You laughed at his argument, hiding your blush by looking away. You walked a few steps until you saw Jake's motorcycle. You'd never ridden one before, so you felt a little uneasy and afraid of ending up on the ground.

"Stop looking at the motorcycle like that. It'll be fun. Shall we?" Jake insisted, handing you one of the two helmets.

"Are you sure this is completely safe?" You asked, seeing him somewhat uneasy while you drummed your fingers on the helmet.

Jake laughed and placed his hand on your waist, pulling you close to him. The only thing separating you was the helmet in your hands.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm going to get you to our destination safely." Jake winked at you, biting his lower lip. Then he released his grip on your waist and moved away from you to get on the motorcycle, waiting for you to do the same.

"I don't know." You hesitated, still playing with the helmet in your hands. "It looks dangerous."

Jake laughed and extended his hand to you.

"Trust me."

With some trepidation, you put on your helmet and climbed in behind him, timidly holding onto his waist.

"Hold on tight, pretty!"

Without further ado, he started the bike, causing you to let out a small squeal as you clung to Jake's waist.

Jake laughed and pulled your hands a little closer to his waist so you wouldn't let go.

"Don't be afraid, babe. You can touch me, no problem," he said, caressing your hands that were wrapped around him.

You closed your eyes, feeling the wind hit your face and your hair become disheveled. It was a new experience that filled your body with adrenaline every time Jake took a turn and accelerated.

In less than a blink of an eye, you were in front of their building. You got off the bike, your legs shaking like jelly, and your heart seemed to want to burst out of your chest.

You thought it had been something incredible, even though you felt your body vibrating with the excitement of the moment.

You saw Jake take off his helmet and ruffle his hair, messing it up, giving you a carefree and attractive profile. You chuckled and shook your head, walking over to Jake to give him the helmet.

"Thanks for the ride," you smiled, making him laugh as he took the helmet.

"It was nothing. When you want another adrenaline rush, I can give you a ride," he offered playfully.

"I guess I'll think about it."

"You must be tired. Get in now... I'll go put the bike away." Jake smiled and ruffled your hair, making you laugh and nod.

"Okay, Dad," you joked, making him look at you in an enigmatic, somewhat dark way that made your body feel warm.

Jake just shook his head and rode off on his motorcycle, leaving you all embarrassed. Maybe you shouldn't have called him that.

You walked up to the apartment and entered, putting your hair in a high ponytail as you walked down the hallway and into your room. Today had been a long day; you were too tired; so you just went to your apartment. bed, falling completely asleep instantly.

• • •

It was after two in the morning when you woke up, leaving your room; still wearing the clothes you'd worn after arriving home with Jake. You could still smell his perfume on your body, as you didn't even bother taking off his jacket, and he didn't come to ask you for it back. You sat up in bed and rubbed your eyes before taking off your jacket and placing it on your desk. You'd return it to him first thing tomorrow.

You left your room, feeling a little thirsty, so you were thinking of heading to the kitchen when you heard a faint moan coming from the room next to yours. You knew it was Jake's, as the two of you were alone in the apartment.

You were always quite curious, so your feet dragged you to Jake's door, pressing your ear to it to hear better. A moan, a little louder than the previous one, escaped his lips, followed by a few gasps, along with the faint, morbid sound of sloshing and cursing that came from Jake's lips every time he touched the right spots. You knew what Jake was doing in there, but you had two options: one, you went to your room and pretended not to hear anything, or two, you let your daring side out and went in to help him reach his orgasm.

And the second option looked tempting to you, as you were already starting to feel your panties sticking together from your arousal as you heard him moan so desperately to reach his release. Fuck it all, it was your damn chance!

You turned the doorknob and swung it open, greeted by Jake, his sweaty body glistening in the dim light of the bedroom lamp, his pants thrown on the floor along with his shirt, and his hard cock in his hand as he tried to reach his orgasm. You licked your lips as the pre-cum oozed from his pink tip, making you want to taste it on your lips.

"Y-Y/N," Jake murmured your name, swallowing hard as the two of you stared at each other for a second. "Shit!" Jake cursed under his breath, stopping what he was doing to cover his crotch with the sheets, apologizing to you.

You found the situation amusing, so you couldn't help but let out a low chuckle, which made him look at you with narrowed eyes.

"Are you making fun of me?"

"Maybe, who knows." You bit your lower lip, approaching him, standing face to face.

Jake sat on the bed, covering his erection with the sheets as you watched him from above, bringing your hands to his shoulders and slowly caressing them.

"Stop teasing me, Y/N," he murmured in a husky tone, looking at you with his eyes filled with lust.

"What are you going to do? Punish me?" You bit your lower lip and brought his face closer to yours, brushing his lips against yours. "I wouldn't complain if that were the case, Daddy..."

Jake swallowed hard and pulled you towards his body, sitting you on his lap.

"Say that again and I won't be responsible for what I do to you," he growled, squeezing your hips between his hands.

You gasped at his dominant tone, feeling the arousal growing more and more in your core.

"What?... Daddy?" You mocked, looking at him innocently.

"Fuck, you're hateful." Jake took your neck in his hand and pulled you towards him, crushing his lips against yours.

His lips seized yours roughly and needily, squeezing your neck instantly as he forced your mouth open to slide his tongue in and begin a game in which he had the advantage. His tongue ran over your mouth and then sucked on your lower lip, making you moan instantly, beginning to feel dizzy from the intensity of the kiss and the grip on your neck that was making it difficult to breathe.

Your hands moved down to his abdomen, touching it while running your nails over it, making him gasp against your lips. You moved a little lower, reaching his cock, which you stroked, stimulating it.

You removed the sheet from his crotch, gaining greater access to his member, which you began to masturbate. Moving your hand up and down over it, Jake moaned against your lips, occasionally cursing.

You were about to continue when you felt Jake's hand release your neck and he abruptly stopped kissing you, leaving your lips swollen as he removed your hand from his cock, looking at you seriously.

You looked at him confused, not understanding what was happening, and for a moment you thought he might have changed his mind.

"What?"

"Get naked!" he suddenly ordered, making you part your lips in surprise.

"Good." You nodded without taking your eyes off him, getting up from his lap.

"Start, I don't like being kept waiting." He spoke again in a demanding tone, making you shudder.

"Are you going to give me orders?" You laughed, trying to appear indifferent.

"Yes, do it now... You wanted this, didn't you?" He clicked his tongue, looking at you expressionlessly. "I'm not going to repeat it again... Get naked!"

Finally you nodded, feeling your body heat up at his frivolous and devilish attitude ndante.

You started by taking off your pants, sliding them down your legs while smiling seductively at him, trying to get his attention. After taking off your pants, you unbuttoned your shirt, pulling it down your shoulders as Jake's eyes followed your steps intently. Once you had your shirt off, you reached behind your back and unhooked your bra, letting it fall to the floor, revealing your breasts. You touched them sensually, biting your lower lip, watching Jake's eyes move to your breasts, licking his lips.

Just as you were about to take off your panties, Jake stopped you, causing you to look at him, confused.

"Don't take them off," Jake murmured, biting his lower lip. "I want you to touch yourself under your panties."

You gasped in surprise, clenching your thighs at his command. Your core grew wetter and wetter every time you heard him speak. You were starting to enjoy this game.

You placed one of your hands under your panties, gently touching yourself while the other caressed your breasts, giving Jake a show. You closed your eyes and began stroking your clit in circles, imagining it was Jake touching you, letting out moans from between your lips, wanting more. You brought two fingers to your entrance, beginning to move them quickly. Your free hand traveled to your nipple and you pinched it between your fingers, tugging at it in search of more pleasure.

You opened your eyes again, noticing how Jake enjoyed watching you touch yourself. His hand was now on his member as he moved up and down rapidly, encouraging you to continue and give him the pleasure of watching you cum for him. Your fingers moved fervently inside you, letting out a moan as you threw your head back, increasingly agitated as you watched Jake masturbate in front of you.

Jake looked into your eyes, and you couldn't help but moan his name, wanting him to be the one touching you now, but he only tortured you by letting you watch him touch himself. You felt a delicious spasm run through your body, and you arched, wanting to reach your release.

"Jake..." His name came from between your slightly parted lips.

Jake swallowed and couldn't take it anymore. He took your hand and forced it out of you, making you whimper as your orgasm subsided.

"On your back on my lap... Now!" He ordered, making you whimper.

You did as he asked, sitting on his lap with your back to him. Jake parted your legs and his hand lightly touched your clit, making a moan escape your lips. Jake pulled your panties down and tugged them somewhere, replacing your fingers with his own this time. He began moving them rapidly, making you cry out, lightly gripping his arm at how wildly he was making your body react to him. Spasms ran through you as you whimpered and moaned, throwing your head back.

Jake placed a few kisses along your neck and continued touching you until he felt your body twitch, your back arch, and your core clench around his fingers. You were about to cum, but then he stopped, leaving you unfinished.

You gave him a deadly glare while trying to regulate your breathing.

"Wh-why did you stop?" you whined, looking at him over your shoulder.

Jake laughed mockingly and grabbed your chin, keeping your eyes on him.

"If I'm going to make you cum, it'll be with my cock, that's clear, baby."

You swallowed hard, feeling your pussy clench against nothingness, wanting to feel him inside you.

"Are you desperate? You're such a needy slut."

His degrading words only turned you on more, and the desire to feel his cock inside you was starting to drive you delirious.

Jake pushed you back, causing you to fall onto the bed beneath his body.

"If you're a good girl, I promise I'll fuck you good."

Jake's harsh voice echoed throughout the room, soft and mocking as one of his hands rested next to your head and the other rested on his cock, teasingly guiding it toward your soaking pussy.

Your legs spread wide, wanting to feel his cock inside you once and for all.

Jake was eager to sink into your pussy too, but he couldn't do it without having some fun first. Every time his thick, pink tip touched your swollen slit, you whined at how much you needed him, at how unfair he was being to you.

"Look at you, being such a dirty girl just for me," he mocked. "You're so fucking wet for me, aren't you?"

Your eyes were watering as a stifled sob escaped your lips. You couldn't take it anymore; you were going crazy because of him, and you just wanted the orgasm he'd denied you twice already.

"Daddy, please," you begged, knowing that nickname would have an effect on him.

You bit your lip, your eyes drooping to where his cock slid between your folds with ease, gathering your arousal.

"Silence, baby," Jake purred against your lips, kissing you.

He moved slowly as his cock rested on your overstimulated and swollen clit, making your grip on him tighten. "Just let me play a little longer. I promise I'll let you orgasm later. You can be a good little girl for Daddy, right?"

"Yes... Daddy..." You murmured.

Jake smiled and kissed your slightly swollen lips. He slid his cock up and down your soaked folds. Your mind was threatening to unravel, and your hips bucked up in search of more stimulation.

You moaned softly, letting him thrust into your pussy until your mind melted and went blank. He hadn't even fully entered you, and you were already losing your mind.

Before you could say anything, Jake grabbed your thighs, spreading them easily, his eyes filled with lust.

You stared at him, eager to see the great show he was about to give you.

Jake's cock looked so beautiful, covered in your own fluids. The tip was a fiery shade of red, dripping with thick, creamy globs of his pre-cum running down his shaft as he finally grasped the base, stimulating himself before lining it up with your entrance.

"You're such a good, dirty girl for me, my little bitch," Jake spoke shakily, moaning in your ear. Jake sank half his cock inside you, stretching you out enough to hear your moans. "You're going to let me fill that pussy with my cum, aren't you?"

"God, yes," you moaned desperately, wanting him to fuck you once and for all.

Jake filled you with his cock, staying inside you without moving, making you hiss in frustration at how aroused you were at that moment.

Jake smiled cruelly as he watched your pussy clench around his cock.

"Damn, Jake! That's enough!" you begged, close to tears. "Just fuck me already, I want you!"

Something in Jake ignited as he savored your desperate words. His cock filled you in one swift thrust, your already painfully wet walls stretching in an instant. You moaned in pure pleasure, digging your nails into Jake's back.

"Yes... Take it all, baby."

You continued moaning and squeezing around him as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your climax without even having taken all of him. But by this point, you were so sensitive that a simple brush of his fingers over your clit would make you cum. Your back arched, while Jake, in his deep position, hit all the right spots, making you roll your eyes.

"You're taking it so well."

Jake cooed as he pounded into you hard and precise.

You nodded eagerly, tears falling down your cheeks. Jake kissed each one before his hips slammed into yours again.

"I want you to ride me. Can you do that, baby?"

His movements slowed as you nodded between moans.

Jake pulled out of you, making you whimper at the loss of his cock pounding so deliciously inside you. He flipped you over so you were on top of him. You took his cock in your hands and placed it at your entrance, sinking yourself completely into it as you both moaned at the sensation. Jake placed his hands on your hips, looking down at you as he bit his lip and leaned his head back, waiting for you to start moving.

You begin fucking him at a rapid pace, bouncing up and down on his cock, your pussy slapping against his balls each time you sink back in. The sticky, slapping noises are so lewd, echoing around the room, that Jake will probably have to apologize to his neighbors tomorrow.

Jake moves one of his hands to your breast and begins playing with your nipple, pinching and pulling it while you hear moans of pain and pleasure. Your movements on him become faster as he begins to thrust upward, penetrating you, helping you reach your orgasm that much faster.

"Oh, baby, I'm so close."

"Y-yes... Me too."

You feel his body shudder and twitch, giving you a high-pitched moan of your name as, Jake, he cums, filling you with his hot, sticky cum.

Your pace didn't slow as you continued fucking him to reach your own high, thrusting your hips up and down. Jake raised his own hips, helping you reach your orgasm, rubbing your clit with his thumb. Your body spasmed until you finally reached your climax. Your eyes rolled back in your head as Jake's name tumbled from your lips like a mantra.

"I hate you," you moaned, your breath hitching as your body slumped against Jake's.

Jake laughed, though he was still trying to catch his breath, just like you.

"I love you too, silly," he joked, giving you a smile.

You rolled your eyes and punched him in the chest, making him laugh.

"Don't play like that," you scolded him.

You couldn't help but be angry.

Jake laughed and licked his lips.

"I'm serious, I love you," he murmured the last bit in a low tone, making your cheeks flush red.

"Shut up," you stammered, unable to form another sentence.

Jake hummed and rolled you over in bed, sending you back under him.

"Yeah, I'll shut up later... Now, why don't we have another round? It's only four in the morning."

Yeah, that man was definitely going to be your downfall.

• • •

The next morning, you were sitting on the counter watching Jake make breakfast, wearing only pajama pants, making you bite your lower lip. Just thinking about what they could do that morning made you wet yourself.

"Stop looking at me like that, you look like you want to eat me," he joked, turning to look at you.

"Maybe I do want to eat you." You played along, listening to him hum as he approached you, wrapping his arms around your waist, positioning himself between your legs and burying his head between your shirt-covered breasts.

"I guess it's mutual. Let me start?"

"I thought it was ladies first. You're not a gentleman, Jakey." You playfully teased, pressing your foot against the erection forming in his pants, making him growl.

"You're dangerous," he purred, bringing his face closer to yours to kiss you, his lips moving gently over yours, enjoying the moment.

But everything fell apart when someone's small footsteps entered through the front door. Jake's young son looked at them in amazement once he reached the kitchen. Apparently, he had already returned from his weekend with his mother.

"Dad's kissing the babysitter! How disgusting!"

The little boy yelled, giggling, causing you to separate from Jake. Jake moved away from you and took the little boy in his arms, carrying him.

"Come here," he picked him up, making him laugh, and you felt your heart clench with tenderness at the beautiful scene.

"Dad, will Y/N be my new mom?" the little boy asked innocently.

Jake looked at you, amused, winking at you.

"I guess only if she wants to. Do you want her to be your new mom?"

The little boy nodded, hiding his face in Jake's neck as he giggled softly.

"Too bad, Y/N, you're my girlfriend now." Jake smiled playfully, and you just blushed.

"You're so original! No one has ever asked me to be their girlfriend like that."

"I know I'm the best, babe."

You laughed and shook your head, happy to be there with those two. After all, you couldn't deny that finding that apartment had been good for you; you'd finally found a home amidst all the storm.

©All rights reserved.

For translations or adaptations, please remember to ask my permission beforehand.

[livwritessometimes]

I LOVE YOU!

: Part 11 (Oscar's Version)

: It's bout time Oscar comes clean about his feelings

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: author’s note - I almost had a heart attack!!! this fic was scheduled and it did not release and it wasn’t showing in the scheduled section and I almost lost it

…

“Oscar??” Y/n said, confused, as she made her way towards the man in front of her. 

“What are you doing here?” She asked as she finally got a better view of the comp science major standing under the lights that cast a soft glow on his face. 

"Y/n," Oscar said, a hint of nervousness laced his voice. "I'm glad you came!" he said.

"Wait, are you the one who left that message??" Y/n asked. Not bothering to wait for a reply, she continued, "How did you even do that? Wasn't Mr. Stella working on it? So how did you even get the chance to change that? Unless you were working on it with him. Is that what you were doing? Why? First you ignore me, keep on making excuses, ditch me to hang out with another girl, and then when I get someone else to help me with this, you go behind my back and work on it?? How does that even make sense? Osc-" Her ramble was cut short with Oscar suddenly shouting, "Stop! Y/n, would you please stop for the love of God and let me explain?" 

The girl instantly fell silent, waiting for the boy to continue. "Yes, I changed the form so that you could get the coordinates. I had gone to Mr. Stella and begged him if I could work on the form and finish what I had started with you," Oscar said.

"Why? Why would you do all that? Because I told you I don't need your help? Is that why you decided to call me here late at night? and for what?" Y/n said, feeling herself get teary-eyed by the sudden outburst of emotions. "Do you not want me to do well in the assignment? Is that what this is because if that is why you are doing all of this Oscar Piastri, I swear to god?" 

"I did this because I LOVE YOU," Oscar blurted out; he could not take it any longer. He could not keep his mouth shut and watch the girl he loves think he did all of this out of spite.

Y/n felt her heart stop. This was not what she was expecting when she left her house today in hopes of finding the person behind the mysterious message. "What??" Y/n said, in fact, that was all she could get herself to say.

"I love you; I have for a while now. Daniel had texted me one day saying that he's happy to see me happy with you, and I freaked out. I know that this was no excuse for me ignoring you, and I'm really sorry for that. But I didn't know how else to react," Oscar said, staring down at the ground, refusing to look at Y/n. 

"I've never felt like this; all my life I never felt like the need to be with someone, and so I never bothered with it. But the more time we spent together for the project, the more I realized that I did not want it to end. And so I started to make excuses just so we could spend more time working on the project. But I didn't realize that doing so would make it end sooner," he said. "Lily was just working with me on one of our assignments; I never thought you'd think that I was dating her. I never meant for things to get so complicated between us. I understood your decision to work with my professor, and I'm sorry I went behind your back to work on the project. Please don't get angry with him; he was very hesitant to let me do this in the first place. I just hope that we can still be friends." Oscar finally finished and looked up at Y/n.

Both Y/n and Oscar had taken a seat at one of the chairs kept outside, and for a good five minutes no words were exchanged between the two. Suddenly, Y/n got up and said, "I'm sorry, Oscar, but I have to go," and without waiting for him to reply, Y/n walked out of the cafe.

Leaving a confused and heartbroken Oscar behind.

…

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[thatlotuscookie]

Mikey from Tokyo Revengers please. Maybe where the reader is the only one who can calm him down when he's having a bad day or feeling overwhelmed, but she doesn’t realize how much it means to him?

✧･ﾟ: a/n : to the lovely anon who requested this—thank you! Mikey’s the type of character who hides his emotions well, but I can totally see him seeking comfort in someone who brings normalcy into his chaotic life. I hope this hits all the right feels for you! I listened to Understand by Keshi the whole time and AGHH brought me into the feels.

✧ Title: ✧ The Weight Of Everything ✧ ✧ Characters: Mikey (Manjiro Sano) x Reader (Fem!Reader) ✧ Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Romance ✧ Rating: T ✧ Summary: Mikey carries burdens that no one else can truly understand. On days when everything feels like it’s falling apart, your presence becomes his only source of calm. But when Mikey realizes just how much you mean to him, he's left wondering if there's a chance for something more. ✧ Content/Tags: Emotional vulnerability, Mentions of stress/burnout, Angst, Slow Burn, Vulnerability, Pining, Emotional Support, Confession ✧ WC: 1323 words // 7470 chars

Mikey was used to handling things alone.

Being the leader of Toman came with burdens that no one else could truly understand. The pressure of making decisions, keeping his friends safe, staying strong for everyone—it was a constant weight on his shoulders. Most days, he carried it without complaint, hiding his exhaustion behind that calm, almost childlike demeanor he was known for.

But there were days when it all became too much. Days like today, when even the smallest frustrations piled up until they became overwhelming, leaving him on the verge of snapping.

Mikey sat at the edge of the rundown rooftop, his legs dangling over the side as he stared blankly at the horizon. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the city, but he couldn’t bring himself to appreciate the beauty of it. His mind was racing, his heart heavy with unspoken thoughts.

It was one of those days.

He’d been distant with the gang, unusually quiet, and though his friends had noticed, none of them dared to ask what was wrong. They knew better than to pry when Mikey was in one of his moods. Only Draken had given him a look, that knowing expression that said he understood—but even he hadn’t tried to approach.

Mikey preferred it that way. He didn’t want to be asked how he was feeling. He didn’t want to explain. He just wanted… to escape.

And that’s where you came in.

You weren’t a member of Toman, not in the traditional sense, but you’d been around long enough to be considered part of the family. You were close to the core group, though you never really saw yourself as anyone particularly important. You were just… there. Someone who offered a kind smile, someone who listened, someone who brought a sense of normalcy to their otherwise chaotic lives.

Unbeknownst to you, that normalcy had become something Mikey craved more than he would ever admit.

You spotted him sitting alone on the rooftop when you went looking for him. The others had mentioned his unusual behavior today, and while they didn’t seem too worried, you couldn’t help but feel concerned. Something about his silence had struck you as different, more unsettling than usual.

“Mikey?”

Your voice was soft as you approached, not wanting to startle him. He didn’t turn to look at you, but his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly at the sound of your voice.

Without waiting for an invitation, you sat down beside him, careful to leave a little space between you. The cool breeze tugged at your hair, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

You glanced at him, noting the way his eyes were fixated on the horizon, distant and unfocused. “You okay?”

Mikey didn’t respond right away. He wasn’t sure how to explain what he was feeling—not even to himself. Instead, he shrugged, a small, almost imperceptible movement.

You weren’t surprised by his silence. He had always been a man of few words when it came to his emotions, and you’d long since learned that pushing him for answers wasn’t the way to go. So, you sat quietly beside him, your presence calm and steady.

After a few minutes, you sighed softly and leaned back, resting your hands behind you. “You know,” you began casually, your tone light, “sometimes I just come up here to watch the sunset when I’ve had a bad day. It’s kinda nice, isn’t it?”

Mikey’s gaze flickered to you for the first time since you’d arrived, his expression unreadable. He didn’t respond, but the tension in his posture eased just a little more.

You smiled, more to yourself than to him. “Yeah. It’s peaceful up here. Like nothing else matters.”

He remained quiet, but you didn’t mind. There was something about just sitting with him, even in silence, that felt… right. You didn’t need to fill the space with meaningless words. Sometimes, just being there was enough.

Minutes ticked by, and the sky shifted from orange to pink, then deep purple. The world around you seemed to grow quieter, and you found yourself relaxing more, the weight of the day lifting from your own shoulders.

Mikey, on the other hand, was watching you now. He didn’t know when it had happened, but at some point, your mere presence had become something he relied on. Something that grounded him when everything else felt like it was slipping through his fingers. You never asked for anything, never expected him to explain himself or act a certain way around you. You just… were. And that simple fact had become his lifeline.

He shifted slightly, moving closer to you, though he made sure not to draw attention to it. He didn’t want you to think too much of it—not yet, at least.

You turned your head, catching his movement, and smiled at him, though you didn’t comment on the fact that he was now sitting a little closer than before.

“Thanks,” he muttered suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked, surprised by the suddenness of his words. “For what?”

“For… this.” His eyes were still on the horizon, but his voice was softer than you’d ever heard it. “For just… being here.”

Your heart warmed at his words, but you shrugged it off, trying to keep things light. “Hey, that’s what friends are for, right?”

Friends. That word stung more than Mikey had expected it to. Was that all you thought you were? Just friends?

He didn’t respond, but the silence that followed was different this time—more charged, more significant. You felt it too, though you weren’t sure why. There was something in the way he was looking at you now, something in the air between you that made your pulse quicken.

Before you could say anything else, Mikey spoke again, his voice low and almost hesitant. “You don’t… even realize, do you?”

You frowned slightly, confused. “Realize what?”

“How much this means to me.” His gaze finally met yours, and the vulnerability in his eyes took your breath away. “How much you mean to me.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words. You had never seen Mikey like this—so open, so raw. It was like the walls he had spent so long building around himself were starting to crack, just enough for you to see what lay beneath.

“I…” You struggled to find the right words, unsure of how to respond.

Mikey sighed, his usual confident demeanor faltering as he ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding like an idiot, but… you’re the only one who can calm me down. When everything feels like it’s falling apart, you’re the only thing that keeps me from losing it.”

His confession hit you like a wave, and suddenly, everything made sense. The way he always seemed to seek you out, the way he relaxed whenever you were around. It wasn’t just coincidence. It was because you had become something more to him—something that went beyond friendship.

“I didn’t know…” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I didn’t know I meant that much to you.”

Mikey smiled, though it was small and a little sad. “Yeah, well… I didn’t realize it either, until now.”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken feelings, and you weren’t sure what to say. Your heart was racing, your mind spinning, but one thing was clear: Mikey needed you, in a way that no one else did. And maybe, just maybe, you needed him too.

Slowly, you reached out, your hand brushing against his. “I’m here,” you said softly. “Whenever you need me.”

Mikey’s fingers curled around yours, his grip firm yet gentle. For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight on his shoulders lifted, just a little.

And for the first time, he allowed himself to hope—for something more, for something real.