#and i know for a fact it's the wrong moment | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

einawnimie · 2 days ago

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𝗬𝗘𝗦, 𝗜 𝗗𝗢 — sylus qin oneshot

summary — Four years into your relationship, he’s never wavered in showing that you’re his forever—his home, his future, his everything. Living together only deepened that certainty; your lives naturally intertwined. So now that he’s finally proposed, why does it still catch you off guard—feeling so new, so sudden, as if your heart is realizing it all over again? Even during planning your wedding, is this really happening?

pairings — sylus x fem!reader

content / tags — post-proposal, fiancé!sylus, husband!sylus, fluff, wedding planning, non-story based timeline, pre-wedding jitters, bachelorette party!, the girlies are here (tara, simone, yvonne, aislinn), domestic cutenness, sylus tears up, + more

warnings — 16+, slight suggestiveness (wedding night!)

words — 10k ++

You haven’t said much since he slipped the ring onto your finger.

Now, hours later, you’re curled up on the couch in the soft quiet of your shared apartment, the hum of the city outside barely reaching the room. The ring catches the low light every time you shift, as if trying to remind you—this is real.

He proposed. He wants you to be his wife. He’s gonna be your husband.

Sylus is in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, boiling water to make you tea like it’s any other night. Like he didn’t just ask you to spend forever with him.

You’re still not sure what to say.

It’s not that you’re unsure of him. You never were. From the very beginning, he made it clear you weren’t temporary. His place became yours, and yours his, now living together felt normal. He always spoke of “someday” with ease—your names written into his plans like they were facts. You thought you’d prepared yourself for this. You thought when the moment came, you’d be ready.

But now that it’s here, it feels brand new. Not wrong. Just… like your heart is trying to catch up to something your soul has known for years.

Sylus walks over, two mugs in hand, his gaze finding yours with that quiet steadiness that always makes the world feel smaller. Safer.

“You’re really quiet,” he says, setting a mug in front of you.

“I’m still processing,” you murmur, eyes flicking down to the ring again.

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You already said yes.”

“I know,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “It just… doesn’t feel real yet.”

He sits beside you, nudging your leg with his. “Want me to propose again?”

You laugh—a small, breathy thing—but it’s enough to pull you out of the fog. And when you look at him, really look, all you can think is: How did I get this lucky?

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you turn slightly, facing him more fully. His expression is open, unguarded—no teasing, no pressure. Just him. Just Sylus, like he’s always been, but somehow even more steady now.

“How long have you had it?” you ask, voice barely above the hush between you.

“The ring?” he murmurs. “A while.”

Your brows lift, faintly surprised. He nods once, slow and sure.

“I waited until it felt right,” he adds. “Not because I had doubts. Just… because I didn’t want to rush a moment that meant everything to me.”

The silence that follows isn’t heavy. If anything, it feels like the air itself is holding its breath—waiting.

You blink slowly, then shake your head with a small, incredulous laugh. “You’ve always made it so clear I was in your future. I just didn’t realize how overwhelming it would be to have that future actually start.”

He tilts his head slightly, his thumb reaching to brush a strand of hair from your cheek. “That’s the funny thing about something you’ve always known,” he murmurs. “It still hits different when it finally arrives.”

You rest your head against his shoulder, and he lets out a breath you hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Outside, the city hums, but in here—wrapped in his warmth, in the quiet weight of the night—it feels like you’re on the edge of something big. Not a cliff. A beginning.

“I’m gonna be one hell of a wife,” You joke, squeezing his thighs gently, he laughs at that. “Nothing I can’t handle.” He smiles.

“I’m gonna be so difficult,” you added, it was a half-truth. Him being your first boyfriend, finally having one at 25 made you feel like love isn’t something easy for you. “You’re easy.” He smiles.

You raised your eyebrows at that. “Hm? I’m easy? To play with?” You click your tongue as he pinches your cheek. “You’re easy to love, always. It’s like I can’t help but love you every time, every life. Like you’re also my lover in my past life and we kept falling in love every time.” He pecks your cheek.

You felt yourself burn in embarrassment. “What—”

“You’re blushing.” He smirked.

“You better help with the wedding planning.” You glared at him while he chuckles. “Of course, soon-to-be wife.” He kissed you as he pulls you over to his lap.

“It’s our wedding, after all.” He said between kisses. You smiled as his lips went wild over yours. He tugs at your waistband, indicating he wants your pants off but you pulled away,

“No, we’re not doin’ anything.” You say quietly. He sighed, frustrated. “Why not?”

“Wanna save up until the wedding night.” You replied, catching your breath. He groans. “We haven’t set a date yet! How am I gonna-” You shut him up with a peck.

“Now now, be a good boy and wait, alright?” You smiled, eyes wrinkling. He smiles, before nodding. “Anything for my fiancée.”

———

It starts with a spreadsheet.

Or, more accurately, Sylus watching you scroll through color palettes and guest list templates while wrapped in a blanket, a pen tucked behind your ear like you’re about to draft battle strategy.

“Didn’t know saying yes would come with seventeen tabs open,” he teases, handing you a bowl of grapes as he settles beside you on the living room floor.

“It’s twenty-one,” you correct without looking up, “and that’s not counting the Pinterest board.”

He whistles low. “We’re planning a wedding, not launching a space station.”

You nudge his knee with your foot, not bothering to hide your grin. “Funny, coming from the man who mapped out a seven-step grocery route last week.”

Sylus shrugs, completely unbothered. “Efficiency is attractive.”

“Mm-hmm,” you murmur, highlighting another item on the checklist. “So is knowing the difference between ivory and cream.”

He pauses. “There’s a difference?”

You slowly turn your head toward him, mock horror on your face. “You’re marrying a woman knee-deep in fabric swatches. Yes, there’s a difference.”

He throws his hands up in surrender, laughter tucked into the corners of his smile. “Guess I’m learning as we go.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart feels full. This wasn’t what you imagined wedding planning would be—no stress-filled evenings, no tears over color schemes or centerpieces. Just this. Just the two of you on the floor, sharing grapes and slowly crafting a day that’s only ever meant to hold your names.

He leans over, eyes flicking to your laptop screen. “Alright, Commander. What’s next?”

You tap your pen against the open spreadsheet. “We need to finalize what we’re both wearing.”

Sylus raises a brow. “Let me guess—you’ve narrowed it down to fifteen different silhouettes, twelve fabric combinations, and at least three that require a minor miracle?”

You sigh dramatically. “Four. And a half.”

He grins and leans in, brushing a kiss to your cheek. “Whatever you choose, you’ll look like forever to me.”

The pen falters in your hand for a second before you look down quickly, trying to ignore the way your throat tightens.

“Stop saying stuff like that or I won’t get anything done.”

He shifts closer, his voice low, teasing. “That was the plan.”

You bite back a smile and go back to the spreadsheet. Planning a wedding might not be easy—but doing it with him makes it feel like the easiest thing in the world.

The checklist lives on your desktop like a quiet sentinel, always open, always growing. You didn’t mean for it to get this detailed—but now it spans five sheets, color-coded, categorized, and slightly threatening in the way only love-fueled organization can be.

Sylus reads it over your shoulder, chewing absently on a grape as his eyes skim the latest additions. “You added ‘decide on shoe height’ under the ceremony section.”

“You laugh now,” you mutter, typing in a new note, “but wait until I start calculating kiss angles based on heel inches.”

He makes a soft choking sound and sets the bowl down. “We’re really doing this, huh?”

You glance at him, and for a second the sarcasm fades. “Yeah. We are.”

The checklist has everything now.

☑︎ Theme colour

☑︎ Moodboards (12 of them)

☑︎ Pick a date

Both of you agreed to have the wedding in three months—early October. Fall season. The edge of warmth just beginning to slip into something cooler. Crisp mornings, gold-tinted skies, and leaves turning the world into a slow-burning fire.

You didn’t pick the date for symbolism or availability or convenience. It just felt right. A season that holds change but never rushes it. A kind of softness that says, this is the in-between, and you’re safe here.

Sylus had smiled when you suggested it, that rare, quiet kind of smile he saves for when something clicks in his chest. “October sounds like us,” he said. “Not loud. Not heavy. Just enough.”

And it’s true—there’s something about fall that mirrors the way you love. Steady. Intentional. Leaves falling, yes, but roots deepening too. Not a grand beginning. Not an ending. Just a continuation of everything you’ve already been building.

☐ Dress & Suit fitting

☐ Vows

☐ Choose candle scent

☐ Design rings (optional)

☐ Ceremony setting—indoors / outdoors?

☐ Order vow cards

☐ Practice not crying

Sylus leans over and adds a new one under your last line.

☐ Practice saying I do without sounding like I’m about to kiss the sun

You snort. “That’s not a problem. You always sound like that.”

He grins. “Then I’m already ahead.”

You stare at the list, then at the man beside you, and realize that every checkbox—every silly, overly specific task—is just a trail of stepping stones. Not toward perfection, but toward something real. Something honest. Something entirely yours.

And that makes even the most ridiculous bullet points feel sacred.

You scroll a little farther down, scanning the unchecked boxes that feel both daunting and thrilling. There’s something satisfying about the way each one builds on the last—small tasks stacking into a future. You tap the pen against your chin. “Alright. What’s next?”

Sylus peers over again. “Depends. Do you want to handle something easy like ‘order vow cards’ or dive into the emotional deep end with vow writing itself?”

You groan. “God, not the vows. I need to be at least three emotional breakdowns and two mugs of tea deep before I even touch that one.”

He chuckles and nudges your shoulder. “Noted. Save for crisis hour.”

You scroll further and land on the “Ceremony” section. It’s more abstract—less about things and more about feeling. You can tell because half the bullets aren’t even tasks, just thoughts you didn’t know where else to put.

☐ Make it feel like us

☐ Soft light

☐ Something quiet before the vows

☐ Let there be wind

☐ No music—just voices (Vows)

Sylus points at the last one. “Still sure about that? No music?”

You nod. “Just during the vows, I want to hear everything. I want to hear you breathe. I want to hear myself say your name.”

He doesn’t speak for a long second, but when he does, his voice is soft. “Okay. Then it’s staying.”

You reach over and check the box manually, even if it’s not done yet. You just know you’ll keep that promise.

“But just during the ceremony, the reception we can have some organ playing?” I suggests and he nods. “Perfect, baby.”

Sylus reaches for the pen and adds something of his own.

☐ Smile at her before she says a word

You laugh and lean into him. “That one better not be optional.”

“It’s instinct,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple.

The list continues, but you don’t rush. The wedding isn’t tomorrow. You still have time to argue over flower petals and vow lengths and whether or not your shoes should be flats or a four-inch hazard. But tonight, you’re here—cocooned in soft light and low voices, building a forever one checkbox at a time.

———

The boutique is quiet, sunlight spilling through gauzy curtains and pooling on the pale wood floor. There’s no music playing, no chatter—just the soft rustle of fabric and the occasional click of a pin being adjusted. You stand in front of the mirror in your third dress of the day, barefoot, arms loose at your sides, watching your reflection like it’s someone you’re still getting to know.

This one feels… closer. Not perfect, not quite. But close. The neckline dips just right. The fabric moves like it remembers water. It doesn’t shout bride—it whispers you.

“We followed all the drafts you’ve sent us. What do you think? Quite a silent reaction I noticed,” the stylist asks as she approaches, her tone light, careful.

You blink at your reflection, not because you don’t like what you see—but because you do. And maybe more than that, because it’s starting to feel real.

The dress cinches elegantly at the waist before cascading into a soft A-line, the fabric catching light in subtle glimmers—more glow than sparkle. A delicate shimmer is woven into the silk, not enough to steal attention, but just enough to turn heads if the sun hits right. There’s no heavy beadwork, no sequins crowding the shape—just a fine scattering of tiny crystals along the bodice, like stars that got caught in the fabric on their way down. Nothing overly dramatic. Just movement, light, and a quiet confidence stitched into every seam. The kind of beauty that doesn’t beg to be seen, but refuses to be ignored.

“I don’t know if I have words,” you say quietly.

The stylist smiles. “That’s usually a good sign.”

You run your hands down the sides of the fabric, fingertips skimming the subtle seams. You can picture walking through that aisle in this. You can picture his eyes—how they might widen just slightly, the way they always do when you take his breath without trying.

“I think this might be it,” you murmur, still half in awe.

The stylist beams, then begins checking the hemline with a soft rustle of pins. “We’ll just make a few adjustments. Nothing too drastic. It’s already working with you, not against you.”

You nod absently, gaze drifting back to the mirror. Your hair’s a little messy, your face unmade, and still… you see her. The woman you’ve been becoming all this time. The one who wakes up next to Sylus and makes tea while scribbling ideas on post-its. The one who started this journey half-terrified, but never once alone.

Your phone buzzes gently where you left it on the bench. A message from him.

Sylus: Still breathing?

You smile.

You: Barely.

Sylus: Then it’s the one.

You press your fingers gently to your stomach, grounding yourself in the quiet rush of it all. Then you look up at the mirror again, this time not to examine or second-guess—but to see.

Yeah. This is it.

And while you kept telling him that you didn’t want to see him in his suit during the fitting yet and how you wanted it to be a surprise, he insisted you to be there. He kept telling you that it’s better for you to see him. ( along the lines of “your eyes filters things perfectly, i’ll look a thousand times better when you’re there.”)

The tailor pins the jacket with practiced fingers, stepping back to inspect the fit. You’re sitting on a low couch near the wall, one leg tucked beneath you, watching Sylus in the mirror like you’re seeing something unfold in real time.

He stands tall on the platform, sleeves slightly rolled up, the dark jacket draped over his frame like it was meant for him and only him. The fabric isn’t flashy—charcoal with a subtle texture that shifts in the light—but it holds him differently. Like it understands who he is.

He catches your eyes in the mirror. “Well?”

You tilt your head, studying him. “You look like a man I’d marry.”

He smirks. “That’s good. I was worried I looked like a man selling investment property.”

You laugh, but your gaze softens. “No. You look… grounded. Like you belong in that suit.”

He turns to face you, the movement slow and deliberate, like he’s testing how it moves with him. “It’s heavier than I expected.”

“Too much?”

He shakes his head. “No. Just enough. Reminds me this isn’t casual. That it matters.”

You stand and walk over, hands brushing lightly over the lapels. “It’s not the suit that makes it matter.”

He dips his head slightly so your foreheads nearly touch. “I know. It’s you.”

The tailor clears their throat politely and steps away to give you a moment. You smooth the collar gently and whisper, “Do you feel like you in it?”

“I feel like the version of me that says your name with vows behind it,” he murmurs.

That does something to your heart.

You step back just enough to take him in again—this man, in this moment, in this quiet shop where something bigger is taking shape without a single spotlight.

And when you meet his eyes, all you can think is: That’s the one I want waiting for me.

———

You both agreed to write your vows freely and separately—no outlines, no guidelines, no peeking. Just feelings. Just truth. You’d said it half-jokingly, lounging on the couch one night with Sylus’s head in your lap and the laptop open between you.

“No bullet points. No formatting,” you’d told him, tapping a note into your checklist. “Let’s keep it honest. Whatever it comes out as.”

He looked up at you then, smile lazy. “You sure? What if mine ends up being a three-page poem and yours is just, ‘I love you. Let’s go.’”

You grinned. “Then I’d say, damn right. Let’s go.”

So now, with just under three weeks left, the pressure is a soft, quiet weight at the back of your mind. You haven’t written a single word yet—not because you don’t know what to say, but because there’s too much. How do you sum up a love that’s lived in everyday things? In dishwashing jokes and shared hoodies and sleepy morning hair?

Sylus hasn’t shown any signs of stress. In fact, every time it comes up, he just says, “It’ll come when it needs to.”

But sometimes, you catch him staring at a blank notebook, pen tapping against the page, mouth moving silently like he’s whispering drafts into the air.

You haven’t asked what he’s written. You won’t. It’s a sacred kind of silence, the one you both chose. Something private in a process that’s been so full of shared moments. This part, you both agreed, has to come from where the words live when no one else is looking.

You just hope, when the day comes and you both speak aloud what you’ve quietly carried—yours meets his halfway.

Some nights, you find yourself reaching for your phone just to type out fragments in your notes app. Half-lines. Feelings that don’t quite have structure yet.

The way you hold the steering wheel like you’re cradling time.

You looked at me once like the world went quiet just to listen.

You’re not home. You’re the reason I believe in building one.

You write them down and leave them there, not bothering to polish or arrange. Just letting the rawness exist. You tell yourself you’ll stitch them together later. When the day is closer. When you’re braver.

Meanwhile, Sylus doesn’t say much, but the clues are there. The scribbled notes tucked inside a book he pretended to be reading. The sudden silence when he catches you glancing at his open journal. The little grin that says don’t ask yet.

One evening, you come home to find him standing at the kitchen counter, turning a pen over in his hands. The kettle whistles behind him, untouched.

“You okay?” you ask, setting your bag down.

He blinks, then chuckles softly. “Yeah. Just… trying to describe what it felt like the first time you fell asleep on me.”

You lean against the doorway, watching him. “That important?”

He nods once, without looking up. “It changed something. I haven’t figured out how to say it yet. But I will.”

You don’t push. Instead, you walk up behind him, arms sliding around his middle, cheek against his back.

And in that moment, you realize the vows aren’t something you’re writing—they’re something you’ve already been living. In burnt toast and shared playlists. In the silence you don’t need to fill. In every I love you that never needed to be rehearsed.

You still don’t know what the final version will sound like. But you’re certain of one thing—when the day comes, and the words finally meet the air, they’ll feel like breath. Like truth. Like you and him, finally spoken aloud.

“Made your coffee, drink up.” He turned around and kissed the top of your head.

You hummed a quiet thanks, fingers curling around the warm mug as you followed him to the table, the quiet hum of evening wrapping around both of you like a blanket.

Sylus sat down, notebook already open beside his half-eaten toast. The pen he always used—the one with the scratched cap and slightly chewed end—rested across the page, ink smudged where his thumb had been.

You took a sip, eyes on him. His brow furrowed just slightly, gaze flicking between two lines he’d written and crossed out and rewritten again.

“Still long way to go?” you asked softly.

He didn’t look up. “Yeah. It’s hard, putting it into words.”

“I know.” You reached across the table, letting your fingers rest over the edge of his notebook without peeking. “But you will.”

He finally looked at you, mouth quirking into a tired smile. “You already have yours?”

You shook your head. “Bits and pieces. Nothing full. Nothing brave enough yet.”

Sylus leaned back in his chair, eyes still locked on yours. “You don’t have to be brave. Just honest.”

“That’s the scary part,” you murmured.

He laughed under his breath, nodding like he understood exactly what you meant. Then he reached for your free hand, tracing circles across your knuckles with his thumb.

“I don’t need it to be perfect,” he said quietly. “I just want it to be you.”

You stared at him for a long second, coffee cooling in your other hand, heart warming with something slow and certain.

And maybe, just maybe, that would be the first line.

———

The apartment is quieter than usual. Not heavy, not tense—just the kind of quiet that settles when something big is coming and both of you can feel it in your bones. A two days left. That’s it.

Your dress hangs hidden in the back of the closet, zipped into a garment bag you haven’t dared unzip since the final fitting. Sylus’s suit is pressed and waiting too, the boutonnière picked, the shoes already polished. Everything’s been checked, double-checked, tucked away.

And yet, it doesn’t feel real.

You sit on the bed, flipping through your vow cards again. They’re still mostly blank. A sentence here. A word there. All of it held together by a feeling you haven’t figured out how to write down yet.

Sylus appears behind you, towel draped around his neck from a late shower, damp hair curling slightly at the ends. He sat beside you as the bed dipped slightly, watching you quietly.

“Nervous?” he asks.

You shake your head. “Not really. Just… aware.”

“Of what?”

You look up at him. “That the next time we sit here like this, we’ll be married.”

He doesn’t say anything for a second. Then he moves closer wrapping his arms around your waist like always, and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“I like the sound of that,” he says. “You, me. Married.”

You reach for his hand without thinking. Your thumb runs along the lines of his palm, and he lets you trace them like a ritual, like something sacred.

Outside, the sky is dimming into blue-gray, clouds hanging low like they’re holding their breath too. The soft kind of weather you hoped October would bring. The quiet you prayed would follow you into the vows.

There’s nothing left to plan. The venue is already decorated with the help of your mom and mother-in-law, who insisted because both you and your fiancé planned everything by yourself. Nothing left to choose. Just time. Just waiting.

And when you look at him again, really look—you know it’ll be worth every second.

“The girls will pick me up at noon tomorrow, for our bachelorette party and suite stay” you inform him, eyes scanning your overnight bag one last time.

He nods, standing up and went to the vanity to apply your skincare on his face, something he’d do often.“They’re doing their bridesmaid duties well.”

You glance at him and catch the soft chuckle under his breath, the kind that curls at the edges of his smile.

“They threatened to confiscate my phone if I so much as think about texting you past midnight,” you add.

He raises a brow, crossing his arms. “You gonna listen?”

You smirk. “Unlikely.”

Sylus steps towards you, slow and easy, until he’s close enough to rest his hands on your waist. “What if I text you first?”

“Then I’ll blame you,” you murmur, tilting your chin up.

He leans in just slightly, forehead brushing yours. “I’ll take the blame.”

You close your eyes, letting the warmth of his presence settle around you. Everything’s packed. Everything’s in place. The next time you see him, it’ll be at the end of the aisle.

“You ready?” you whisper.

He doesn’t hesitate. “For you? Always.”

You stay there for a while, breathing each other in, as if trying to save this moment in a jar and tuck it in your pocket for the day after tomorrow. Because it is big. It is sacred. But tonight—this quiet, in-between space—is yours.

———

The hotel suite looks like a Pinterest board exploded—in the best possible way. Streamers drape from the ceiling vent to the corners of the room, gold balloons spelling out BRIDE TOMORROW! hover near the minibar, and the coffee table is covered in a curated mess of cupcakes, champagne bottles, glittery confetti, and face masks that are definitely not for skincare.

Tara pops a bottle dramatically, foam spilling slightly as the girls cheer, and you’re already laughing as she pours with exaggerated elegance into mismatched plastic flutes. “To your last night of legal singlehood,” she declares, holding hers high.

You raise your glass from the couch, wrapped in a satin robe with bride printed on the back in tiny gold script. “I’m still technically single until I sign papers, right?”

Simone gasps. “Don’t start with technicalities. It ruins the sparkle.”

You snort into your drink as the music kicks up from the Bluetooth speaker—something soft and upbeat, not too loud, just enough to fill the room with energy. There’s a game of he said, she said scattered across the floor, a tray of bridal trivia cards someone clearly took way too seriously, and an entire section of the suite dedicated to DIY cocktails and “emergency” wedding advice written in cursive on sticky notes.

Yvonne hands you a tiara. “Put it on or we take your cupcakes.”

You oblige. Begrudgingly. But the second it’s on, Aislinn snaps a polaroid with a flash that temporarily blinds you.

Later, after the sugar high and the laughter settle into something quieter, the five of you end up in a loose circle on the floor, wrapped in pillows and hotel blankets, the lights dimmed and voices hushed like the room has turned sacred.

“What are you most scared of?” Simone asks, voice softer now.

You think for a moment. Then, with a breath you didn’t realize you were holding—“That it’ll feel different after. That something will change when I don’t want it to.”

There’s a beat of silence before Tara nudges your foot gently. “Then don’t let it change. Let it grow.”

And for the first time that night, you feel your throat catch. Not from nerves, but from how real it’s all becoming.

You lie back on the carpet, crown still askew, eyes on the ceiling. “Tomorrow, I marry my boyfriend of four years.”

Yvonne hums dreamily. “You’re gonna wreck us all.”

There’s laughter. More polaroids. A bottle of sparkling water that gets shaken up and explodes across the kitchenette. And somewhere between the shared mascara, the late-night confessions, and the glow of city lights outside the window, you realize—this is your last night before.

And it’s perfect.

The next day, it was a beautiful chaos.

The room is quieter now, tucked away from the whirlwind of bridesmaids and half-zipped gowns still unfolding in the main suite. You’re seated near the window, soft afternoon light pouring in through sheer curtains, casting a warm glow across the carpet.

The makeup artist moves with quiet precision, her brushes sweeping gently across your skin. Her presence is calm, focused, her tone soft as she murmurs, “Close your eyes for me.”

You do, letting the rest of the world melt away for a moment—the noise, the excitement, the nerves still echoing from the common room. It’s just the two of you here, tucked inside the stillness like a held breath.

There’s a soft clink as she sets down her palette and moves to your lashes. “You’ve got that look,” she says lightly. “The one brides always get right before it hits them.”

“What look?” you ask, eyes still shut.

“Like you’re trying to stay perfectly still so you don’t accidentally float away.”

You smile. She’s not wrong. There’s something electric beneath your skin, humming low and constant.

The artist steps back for a moment, letting you blink your eyes open again. “Do you want to see?” she asks, holding up a small mirror.

You nod, and when you look—really look—it nearly takes your breath.

You still look like you. But elevated. Soft and sure. Glowing, not just from highlighter, but from something deeper. Something you can’t quite name.

Before you can speak, there’s a knock on the door.

“It’s Tara,” comes the muffled voice. “Your and his mom and the photographer’s almost here. You good?”

“Almost,” you call back.

The makeup artist gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You’re more than good. You’re ready.”

And somehow, sitting there in front of the mirror, heart quietly racing, you believe it.

The suite fell completely silent the moment you stepped out.

No laughter, no chatter—just the soft rustle of your dress as you walked forward, veil trailing like a whisper behind you. The girls stood in a loose line near the windows, half-glammed, half-nervous energy, clutching their glasses of juice like it was champagne. Your mom and his stood side by side near the vanity, hands pressed to their mouths, already misty-eyed before you’d even made it halfway across the room.

“Okay,” Simone breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not allowed to look that good. That’s illegal.”

You laughed, cheeks already warm, but it didn’t break the spell. They were still staring. Still soaking you in.

Tara blinked fast. “Is it too early to cry? Because I’m crying.”

Your mom stepped forward slowly, eyes glossy, smile trembling like she was trying to hold it together and failing gracefully. She reached for your hands, her fingers gentle as they brushed over your rings, your sleeves, the fabric. “You look like—”

“I feel like,” you whispered back, voice just as shaky.

Her smile widened. “He’s going to lose his entire mind when he sees you.”

Aislinn swatted at tears with the back of her hand. “Let’s hope he doesn’t black out. We need him standing upright to say vows.”

Even his mother laughed through her quiet sniffles, stepping in to gently adjust your veil. “You look like you walked straight out of a dream, sweetheart. One he’s never going to believe is real.”

You stood still, heart pounding but steady, letting yourself feel it—this moment, this reveal, these women who had helped shape you, build you, lift you up.

And then Yvonne asked, “You ready?”

And this time, without hesitation, you nodded.

Because now it wasn’t just real.

It was happening.

———

The room beside the venue was small—bare walls, a cushioned chair, a standing mirror, and a tiny table with a forgotten glass of water someone must’ve left earlier. The faint hum of music played by an organ filtered in through the walls, muffled by laughter and footsteps in the distance. You could hear it all—life moving outside—but in here, time felt suspended.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, not adjusting anything. Just looking.

Your heart had been calm all day, steady even through the chaos of makeup and hair and lace being zipped and clipped and tucked. You’d laughed, toasted, even danced a little when no one was looking.

But now?

Now your hands were slightly cold. Your breath came shallower. It wasn’t fear, not really—it was everything.

All of it.

The weight of what’s about to happen. The final moments before you walk toward a future that you’ve wanted so much it aches.

What if you trip? What if your voice cracks? What if you forget your vows halfway through, even though you’ve said them to yourself in the mirror a hundred times?

What if this moment is too big for your chest to hold?

You sat down slowly, smoothing your dress as you exhaled, willing your lungs to steady.

It’s not that you doubted him. Never him.

It was the sheer bigness of it. The surreal reality that after all the planning, all the dreaming, it’s actually here. You’re minutes away from becoming someone’s wife. From becoming his wife.

There’s a soft knock at the door. Not rushed. Not loud. Just two quiet taps, hesitant and familiar.

You glance up from your reflection, heart already recognizing the rhythm.

Before you can answer, his voice follows—low, muffled through the door. “It’s me. I swear I’m not looking.”

You blink, breath catching a little.

He knocks once more, knuckles light. “I just… I needed a second. Just to know you’re really there.”

You stand slowly, smoothing your dress, moving toward the door without opening it. Instead, you rest your hand flat against the wood, like maybe he’ll feel it on the other side.

“I’m here,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

There’s a quiet breath, like relief. Like grounding.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Because I’ve been pacing like an idiot, and the twins threatened to duct-tape me to a chair.”

You let out a soft laugh, the kind that trembles with nerves and love all at once.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” you admit before you can swallow it down. “Not the walk. Not the vows. Not… us.”

There’s a pause. And then his voice, steady and warm: “You couldn’t mess this up even if you tried.”

You lean your forehead against the door. “You’re sure?”

“Absolutely. You’re the only thing I’ve ever been sure of.”

A breath leaves your chest, long and shaky, as if his words unlocked something tight inside you.

On the other side, he rests his palm flat against the wood, mirroring yours. “I’ll see you at the end of the aisle,” he says quietly. “But just so you know…”

You wait.

“I already know you’re the prettiest girl alive.”

You close your eyes, pressing your smile into the silence that follows. And when he walks away, you stay there for a moment longer, your heartbeat steadier now, your hands no longer cold.

Because this time, your jitters have nothing to do with fear.

And everything to do with finally.

The music shifts.

Not loud, not grand—but soft and swelling, the kind that tugs at your chest with invisible strings. A quiet murmur hushes behind the doors, and somewhere in the distance, someone exhales like they’ve been waiting their whole life for this exact moment.

Tara, maid of honor appears in the doorway, her eyes glassy and her voice low, like she doesn’t want to break the stillness. “It’s time.”

You stand slowly. Carefully. The weight of your dress settles around your frame like a second skin, like it was always meant to fit you here, now. One last look in the mirror—not to fix anything, but to see yourself as you are: steady, luminous, changed.

You nod. Bouquet in hand, breath tucked somewhere behind your ribs, you step into the hallway.

The doors open.

And light pours in like water.

Golden and soft, catching the delicate shimmer in your veil, casting you in warmth that looks almost unreal. You don’t hear the crowd. Don’t see the flowers or the flicker of candles or the faint blur of silhouettes rising to their feet.

Because all of it falls away the second you see him.

Sylus.

Standing at the end of the aisle in a suit you’ve seen folded over a hanger a dozen times, and yet it’s never looked like this on him before. Back straight. Hands clenched and unclenched at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do with them. His eyes locked on yours—wide, reverent, almost stunned.

He looks like he’s breathing you in. Like if he blinks, you’ll vanish.

And you? You’re moving, one step at a time, slow and sure, like you’re walking through the very center of your life.

Each step feels like a heartbeat. Each breath is a promise.

The music fades into a gentle hum behind your ears as your eyes stay locked with his. You see the way his chest rises, the slight tremble in his fingers, the quiet quake in his throat as he swallows down whatever emotion is threatening to crack through his composure.

When you reach him—finally, finally—he doesn’t speak right away. He just looks at you like he’s never seen anything so certain, so sacred.

Then, quietly, just for you—

“You’re… everything.”

Your smile breaks through the tears you didn’t realize were building. You reach for his hand, and he meets you there without hesitation, fingers curling into yours like they never forgot how to fit.

And in that moment, with the world behind you and forever just ahead, it hits you—

This isn’t a fairytale.

It’s not a dream.

It’s real.

It’s him.

The officiant’s voice hums gently around you, grounding the room in something soft and steady. You’re aware of the rhythm of their words now—not just ceremony, but comfort. The kind that keeps your feet firmly on the floor, even when your heart feels like it’s floating.

Sylus hasn’t let go of your hands. His thumbs brush over your knuckles absentmindedly, like he’s making sure you’re real—or maybe it’s the other way around.

You glance at him, and he catches it, smiling faintly. His shoulders are a little more relaxed now. His eyes still haven’t moved far from yours, like everything else—the crowd, the backdrop, the lights—are details he’ll worry about later.

When your name is mentioned again, his head tilts just slightly, like even hearing it from someone else is enough to make him smile.

The officiant asks if you’re ready to exchange vows.

You both nod at the same time.

It’s simple. No dramatic pause. Just a shared look. A quiet understanding.

Sylus lets out a breath—not nervous, just steadying himself—and reaches into his jacket for the folded piece of paper. His hands are a little shaky, but his voice, when it comes, is soft and sure.

And you listen, heart open, as he begins.

Sylus unfolds the paper slowly, but his eyes stay on you. He glances down only once, like the words are just there for structure—like the truth of it all is already etched into his chest.

He clears his throat, then smiles, a little sheepish but warm.

“I don’t think I ever believed in fate until you,” he begins. “Not because I didn’t want to—but because I didn’t know what it looked like. And then you showed up. In a moment that felt ordinary at first… and somehow turned everything after into something extraordinary.”

You feel your breath catch. His voice is calm, low, sincere. Like he’s telling you a secret no one else in the world gets to hear.

“You make the quiet parts of life feel meaningful. You make the hard days softer, and the good ones even better. You remind me—just by being you—that love doesn’t have to be loud to be real. It just has to be constant. And yours always is.”

He pauses, blinking slowly, thumb brushing over your hand again.

“I promise to show up. On the days when it’s easy, and especially on the days when it’s not. I promise to choose you. In every small way—coffee in the morning, your hand in mine when we’re just walking nowhere, your name in my chest when I go to sleep at night. You’re home. You always have been.”

His smile falters slightly, just for a breath, and his voice softens even more.

“I’m not perfect. I’ll probably mess up the laundry, forget where I left the keys, and steal your fries every time. But I’ll never forget how lucky I am to stand in front of you. To be loved by you. To love you back.”

You feel the tears threatening, but you hold them, just barely. He swallows, blinking quickly.

“So here it is—plain and simple: I vow to love you without pause, without question, and without end. You’re it for me. You’ve always been it.”

He folds the paper again, but he doesn’t let go of your hand. Doesn’t look away.

And in that quiet stillness between one vow and the next, you realize—he’s not just promising forever.

He’s already living it.

You’re still holding his hand, but after that—after those words—you’re not sure if your knees are steady anymore.

Sylus looks at you like he just gave you something sacred, something he’s been carrying carefully, quietly, waiting for the right moment to place in your hands. There’s no smugness, no teasing grin—just softness. Just him, completely bare in front of you, without apology or armor.

The officiant doesn’t rush. The world feels like it pauses for you.

You swallow, trying to find your voice through the emotion rising quietly in your throat. You manage a breath. A small, trembling smile.

“I…” you start, and his hand squeezes yours ever so gently—like he’s telling you to take your time.

And so you do.

Because how do you follow a vow like that?

But even in the quiet, even in the press of every gaze in the room, all you really see is him. Still watching you like you’re the most certain thing he’s ever seen. Like his vow didn’t end with words, but continues now—alive in the space between you.

You take another breath. This time steadier.

And when you speak, it’s not to match him. It’s to meet him.

You glance down at your own folded paper—creased and slightly smudged from your hands—but you don’t open it. Not yet.

Your fingers tighten around his, grounding yourself in the way he’s looking at you. Like you could say anything, or nothing at all, and it would still be enough.

You take a breath. Then begin, voice soft but certain.

“I wrote these a hundred times. Changed words. Reworded lines. Tried to make them sound perfect. But every time I tried too hard, it started to sound less like me—and less like us.”

You smile, and he does too, the corner of his mouth lifting like he’s already bracing for impact.

“So here’s the truth. I never knew how to describe what I wanted in a partner… until you made it obvious. Not with grand gestures or picture-perfect moments, but with little things. The way you listen. The way you show up. The way your love doesn’t ask me to be anything other than exactly who I am.”

His brow softens, and you can feel his thumb gently sweeping over yours again.

“I promise to return that. To love you the way you deserve—quietly when you need peace, fully when you need strength, and endlessly in every version of this life we build together.”

You pause, not because you’ve forgotten the rest, but because the emotion has caught up to you, rising warm and tight in your chest.

“I promise to stand beside you—not just when things are easy, but when things are uncertain, when it’s messy, when we’re still figuring it out. Because even then… especially then… there’s no one else I’d rather figure life out with.”

You look directly into his eyes now, voice quieter, words steadier.

“I promise to make a home out of us. Wherever we are. Whatever we face. And to remind you—on every good day, and every hard one—that you’ve never been hard to love.”

His breath catches, and you see it—the flicker in his eyes, the way his grip tightens ever so slightly.

You smile, gently, as you finish.

“I love you. For who you are. For who you were. And for everything we haven’t even lived through yet. And I can’t wait to love you better, deeper, and more completely with every day we’re given.”

You exhale. Not because it’s over, but because it’s finally said.

And when you look at him now, there’s no doubt.

You were stepping into it—together.

The room is still, filled with the hush of held breath and brimming hearts. Your vows have settled between you, tender and raw, and the officiant takes a gentle step forward, voice calm and clear, wrapping the moment in a quiet kind of gravity.

“Marriage is more than a ceremony. It is the promise to wake up every day and choose one another. It’s built on patience, kindness, and the commitment to grow—side by side, even when life shifts beneath your feet.”

You feel Sylus squeeze your hand—small, grounding. Your eyes meet his again, and just like always, the world narrows to just the two of you.

“Before we move forward,” the officiant says, “let us mark this moment with the simplest, clearest vow of all.”

They turn to Sylus first.

“Sylus, do you take this woman, your partner, your love, your home, to be your wife? Do you promise to stand by her in strength and softness, through change and calm, in laughter, in silence, and in all the years to come?”

Sylus doesn’t hesitate. His voice is soft, a little thick with emotion, but certain.

“I do.”

And then it’s your turn. Your heart thuds once—loud, bright—but your voice is steady when you speak.

“I do.”

The officiant smiles, eyes warm. “These two words carry the weight of everything you’ve lived—and everything you have yet to. And now, with the vows spoken and the love between you made clear…”

They pause, and your breath catches.

“…by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

The pause that follows is full of breathless wonder.

“You may kiss.”

Sylus is already stepping forward, one hand cradling the back of your neck, the other holding your waist as though he’s afraid to let go. His forehead brushes yours first, his voice low and full of something thick and beautiful.

“I love you,” he murmurs.

Then he kisses you.

And the room fades into a blur of soft claps and emotion, but all you feel is him—steady, warm, home.

You’re no longer waiting.

He pulled away as the others cheered and clapped. “Hey, wife.” He smiled, wiping a tear that you didn’t know left your eye.

———

The reception is still alive with soft laughter and clinking glasses, the glow of golden lights warming the corners of the room. But Sylus has barely touched his drink in the last half hour. His tie is loosened, hair slightly out of place from hours of congratulations and half-hugs, but his eyes? They’ve barely left you.

You’re seated beside him, still smiling for the sake of conversation, cheeks flushed from too much dancing and too many “you looked beautiful”s. But every time your knees brush under the table or your hand rests lightly over his thigh, you feel it—his restraint, stretched thin.

He leans in, voice low and hoarse in your ear. “I’m gonna lose my mind if I have to sit through another round of toasts.”

You bite back a laugh, turning slightly to look at him. “You want to sneak out of our own wedding?”

He shrugs, eyes half-lidded, the corner of his mouth pulling up. “I want to sneak out with my wife.”

Before you can say anything else, your mom appears beside the table, eyes knowing, arms gently crossed. “You two look like you’ve done enough smiling for one night.”

Sylus stiffens slightly. “We were just—”

She waves him off with a look that says she’s been in love before, too. “Go. I’ll tell them you needed a breather. No one’s counting minutes, especially if we have your friends entertaining the guests”

Your father appears just behind her, already holding your overnight bag. “Back exit’s quieter. And the car’s waiting.”

You blink. “You knew we were going to—”

“We hoped,” your mom says with a little smile. “They’ll dance, they’ll drink, and they’ll remember the joy. Let you remember the rest.”

Sylus looks at you, like he’s asking one last time—if this is okay, if you’re ready to leave it all behind for now.

And you nod. Without hesitation.

Within minutes, you’re slipping through a side hallway, the sounds of the party softening behind you. His jacket’s draped over your shoulders now, and his hand is firm at your back, like even walking is too far without touching you.

By the time the door closes behind you and the car door shuts, he exhales like he hasn’t all day. He doesn’t even wait for the driver to pull away before he reaches for your hand again, lips brushing your knuckles.

“I loved today,” he says quietly. “But I need this part. Just us.”

You smile as you lean into him, the sound of the tires fading into the night.

“Me too, husband.” He laughs freely as the driver starts driving back to your shared home.

The door clicks shut behind you, and before the quiet even settles, Sylus has you pinned gently to it, his hands caging you in without ever feeling rough. His mouth is already on yours, hot and searching, like he’s starved—not for kisses, but for you.

“Finally,” he breathes, voice rough at the edges, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “I’ve been holding back all day. Or should I say for weeks.”

Your laugh is low, breathless. “You didn’t look like you were holding back when you said your vows.”

He smirks, lips trailing to your neck, where he lets them linger just long enough to make your knees go soft. “If I didn’t, I would’ve carried you out of there mid-ceremony.”

You shiver when his hands slide down your waist, fingers brushing the curve of your hips through the fabric of your dress. His control is thin—every touch slow but purposeful, every kiss deeper, hungrier.

You reach up, pulling at the undone knot of his tie, guiding him closer. “You waited long enough,” you whisper.

He groans quietly, catching your bottom lip between his teeth before kissing you again—slower this time, but no less intense. One hand slips behind your thigh, hitching your leg up against his waist as his body presses flush to yours.

The feeling of his suit brushing against the bare skin of your leg makes your breath hitch. He notices.

“You’re dangerous in this dress,” he murmurs against your throat. “But you’ll look even better out of it.”

The way he says it—low, reverent, full of promise—makes you ache.

The next moments blur. Clothes trail behind you down the hallway—his jacket, your veil, a heel kicked off, the other dropped halfway across the floor. He lifts you again, lips never leaving yours, and carries you into the bedroom like it’s instinct, like he’s meant to.

When he lays you down on the bed, it’s not rushed. There’s no frenzy—just that slow burn between two people who’ve waited long enough.

His hands are everywhere, his mouth hot against your skin, and you’re not sure where one breath ends and the next begins.

It’s soft. It’s deep. It’s real.

And when he finally whispers, “You’re mine,” against your lips, you don’t need to say anything back.

Because he knows. And so do you.

He kisses you—deep and warm, like something that unfolds rather than ignites. His lips move slowly against yours, letting you melt into him one kiss at a time. His hands trail down the sides of your body, memorizing the shape of your waist, the curve of your hips, the softness of skin beneath silk.

The way he touches you is careful, deliberate. Like he’s not trying to take—only to give. To worship.

Your dress slides down inch by inch under his fingers, and the look in his eyes doesn’t turn hungry—it turns tender. He drinks you in like something fragile and beautiful, something worth pausing for.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, brushing his lips along your shoulder, down to your collarbone. “I could spend the rest of my life trying to deserve this.”

You breathe out a quiet laugh, threading your fingers through his hair as you pull him down into another kiss.

“You already do.”

When his shirt finally slips off, and your bare skin meets his, there’s a stillness. Not hesitation—but a kind of awe. The kind that exists when love and desire occupy the same breath.

The night stretches long and slow, full of whispered words and open mouths, hands finding each other over and over again. There’s no rush to finish, no need to prove anything—just soft sounds, quiet gasps, and the steady rhythm of two people learning each other all over again, in the quiet language only they speak.

———

The air is still warm in the bedroom, soft and humming with the weight of what just passed between you—something slow and tender, deeper than just touch. You’re curled against Sylus beneath the sheets, your cheek resting on his chest as his fingers trace slow, lazy shapes along your back.

Neither of you speaks at first. There’s no need. The silence is soft, comfortable, wrapped in the kind of quiet that only follows when love has been given fully.

“You okay?” he asks eventually, voice quiet, lips brushing your hair.

You nod, your voice a murmur. “More than okay.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, then pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. “Let’s get you in the bath.”

You blink, surprised. “Now?”

He smiles. “You deserve it. And I want to be close to you… still.”

He gets up first, slipping into his boxers and disappearing into the bathroom. A moment later, you hear water running, the gentle clink of bottles being opened. When he calls for you, his voice is soft, teasing: “It’s ready. No escaping now.”

You pad in quietly, wrapped in one of his shirts, only for him to smile as you step into the steamy room. The tub is half full already, steam curling into the air, scented faintly with something warm and calming—lavender, maybe, or cedarwood.

He reaches for you with both hands, guiding you in gently, and climbs in behind you. The water is just the right temperature, and his body surrounds yours like a shield, your back pressed to his chest as he settles you between his legs.

His arms wrap around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. Everything feels slow again. Sacred.

He presses a kiss to your damp skin. “How’s this?”

You let out a soft sigh. “Perfect.”

His fingers move in slow, rhythmic strokes along your thighs and arms, his voice occasionally breaking the quiet with a soft word or two—things like “you were amazing,” or “I love how you look like this,” or simply, “mine.”

He washes your hair for you, gently lathering your scalp, his touch as reverent as it was earlier. There’s no rush in the way he pours water down your back, or the way he slides his hands through your damp hair with care.

You lean back against him, completely relaxed now, your legs floating slightly in the water as his fingertips draw lazy circles on your stomach.

“Married,” you whisper, the word slipping from your lips like a secret.

He smiles into your shoulder. “Still sounds unreal.”

“You’re real.”

“So are you.”

Time blurs. The water cools only slightly before he finally reaches for a towel and helps you out, drying you slowly, carefully and carries you to the bed—like you’re something delicate and beloved. To him, you’re absolutely more than that.

You fall asleep not long after, curled into him, wrapped in the scent of warm skin and clean sheets and soft love.

And as his hand rests against your lower back through the night, you know it’s not the bath, or even the quiet that follows—

It’s him.

He is the afterglow.

———

It’s late evening, the kind where time stretches in that golden lull between dinner and bed. The apartment is dim except for the soft light over the stove and the quiet flicker of the TV playing some half-watched series. The world outside your windows is already dark, but inside, there’s nothing but warmth.

It’s been almost 6 months since the wedding.

Sylus is at the sink, sleeves rolled to his elbows, methodically rinsing the dishes you told him he didn’t need to do. He’d only shrugged and said, “As always, you cooked, I clean.”

You’re sitting at the dining table, chin in your hand, watching him. The way his hair’s gone a little messy, the curve of his back as he leans into his task. You’ve lived together long enough now that marriage doesn’t feel like a title—it feels like a rhythm.

Shared chores. Shared glances. Shared toothpaste.

And somehow, you still catch yourself smiling like the honeymoon phase never ended.

He finishes, drying his hands with a dish towel, and gives you a look. “What?”

You shake your head, standing slowly. “Nothing. Just…” You hesitate for a second. “I have a little gift for you. Came in today.”

That piques his curiosity. His brows lift as you cross the room and hand him a small paper bag. Neutral color. No ribbons. Just… simple.

He takes it with a soft smile, already amused. “What is this? You didn’t have to—”

“I know. Just open it.”

He peeks inside. And for a moment, he doesn’t react. His hand reaches in and pulls out the small cotton onesie, white with soft letters stitched across the front that read:

hi, papa.

Silence.

Sylus stares at it, frozen. Like his brain is trying to catch up to what his heart already knows.

Then—very quietly—“Wait.”

You nod. Watching the weight of the realization settle into his chest.

His eyes lift to meet yours. Wide. Glassy. His lips part like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out at first. Just a breath. Just a tremble.

“You’re serious?” he whispers. Your voice wavers through the smile. “Was feeling super tired and nauseous lately. And I took five tests to confirm.”

He looks back down at the onesie, and then again at you—like he’s seeing you completely new. Slowly, gently, he lowers the onesie onto the table and pulls you into his arms. It’s not rushed. It’s not dramatic.

It’s just Sylus, holding you like he never plans to let go. One hand tangled in your hair, the other flat over your stomach like he already wants to protect what’s barely begun.

And when he finally speaks, it’s muffled into your shoulder. “I don’t deserve this.”

You hold him tighter. “You do. Every part of it.”

When he leans back, his cheeks are damp. There’s a soft laugh in his throat, but his voice is wrecked with emotion.

“I’m gonna be a dad.”

You nod, brushing your thumbs over the corners of his smile. “And a damn good one.”

And there, in your quiet kitchen full of warmth and leftover dinner and tomorrow’s laundry still unfolded—he kisses you.

Not out of surprise, not even out of passion—

But out of pure, overflowing love.

And that’s what this is now. Marriage. Parenthood. Life.

Messy. Unplanned. Beautiful.

And completely, irrevocably yours.

fin.

a/n:

i’m so obsessed w the new banner guys omg wdym we’re married 😆☝️hope u like this one, requests are open as always (lads, jjk, hq, aot, enha)

#love and deepspace #artists on tumblr #sylus x you #sylus fluff #sylus qin #sylus x mc #l&ds sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #lads sylus #sylus #sylus smut #lads xavier #xavier love and deepspace #lads caleb #wedding #proposal #fanfic

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81astriss · 2 days ago

Text

+1 | lando norris

actress!reader x lando norris fc: hailee steinfeld, others on pinterest

when the wedding of your father, bradley cooper, and gigi hadid finally comes, fans speculate on who your +1 could be and all signs point to your long-time friend lando norris.

requested by anon !

a/n (PLS READ): so basically before this i had NO idea who the frick bradley cooper is and the last thing i know about gigi hadid is the thing with zayn in 2021 (im so sorry) 😭😭 but i tried my best despite it being a lil step outside what i'm used to so thank you anon for requesting this !! i don't feel like i did this justice because at some point i did NOT know where the plot was going. please dont cancel me if this isnt really accurate, i feel like my research wasn't enough lmaooo but i hope you enjoy nonetheless :)

⎯

latestgossip A week to go before Bradley Cooper and Gigi Hadid tie the knot! 💍 Cooper said that he's looking forward to seeing who his first daughter, Y/n will be bringing as her plus one. 👀 Follow latestgossip for more updates! liked by 90,239 others

↳ user1 me when he's getting married to his controversially young gf who isn't me 💔

↳ user2 dude i've been here since he's just not that into you, i thought we had something 😞😞

↳ user3 SO HAPPY FOR THEMMM

↳ user4 y/n has a plus one ?? i thought she wouldn't date until she's 25

user5 she's turning 25 in like 2 weeks... user4 IT'S ALREADY 2025????????

↳ user6 could not care less abt the wedding WHO IS Y/N BRINGING

⎯

lando monaco win. for you mum and dad ❤️ liked by lnfour, yncooper, oscarpiastri, and others

↳ lnfour thats my goat right there

↳ mclaren 🧡🧡🧡

↳ yukitsunoda0511 nice one papi

lando PAPI??? 🤨🤨 user1 max is big daddy and lando is papi who's your next victim 😭

↳ yncooper this energy next week pls

lando don't be an unlucky charm pls 🙌 user3 how long have they been friends user4 since 2023

↳ user5 MONACO BABYYYYYYY

↳ user6 oscar and charles bonding over the fact that lando won their home races

↳ user7 HOW DARE YOU CHEAT ON THEWIZARDLIZ 😡😡😡😡

user8 wrong person mate user9 you're a lil confused but you got the spirit ! user10 im gonna hold your hand when i say this

↳ user11 SO PROUDDDD

⎯

tagged: lando formulaupdates Lando Norris in Philadelphia less than 48 hours after winning in Monaco ‼️ liked by 92,029 others

↳ user1 i know i failed geography but i dont think that's the way to spain

↳ user2 are you lost babygirl

↳ user3 bro had to complete some side quests 😭

↳ user4 hey isnt bradley cooper and gigi hadid's wedding in philly

user5 how much are you willing to bet he's y/n's plus one user6 my firstborn child user7 they're just friends user5 we never said they were anything more?

↳ user dude he's so photogenic wtf

⎯

now playing: Can't Take My Eyes off You - Frankie Valli yncooper couldn't be more prouder 💍🫶 liked by lando, gigihadid, taylorswift, and others

↳ gigihadid 🤍

↳ user1 SO BEAUTIFUL

↳ reneerapp oh damn 😍🔥

↳ user2 we can kick u out of the motherless club now 🙌🙌 congratulations to the newlyweds!

yncooper HELP ME???? thank you 😭😭

↳ lando congratulations

↳ user3 congratss!!!! who was ur plus one

↳ user4 who was lucky enough to be your date to a WEDDING

user5 right 😕 alexa play that should be me

↳ user6 lovely moment for the family ❤️

↳ user7 latestgossip did yall ever find out who the plus one was

latestgossip girl we share already existing pics, we're not stalkers user7 okay calm down damn

⎯

yncooper hola liked by addisonraee, lando, reneerapp, and others

↳ user1 bro 36 hours ago you were at a wedding 😀

↳ user2 SO WE'RE JUST GOING TO SKIP OVER THAT LAST SLIDE?

user3 "must've been the wind" ahh

↳ reneerapp pls tell me you didn't run away with a man

↳ user4 so lando randomly happens to be in philly then y/n randomly goes to spain IN THE SAME WEEK 🤨🤨

user5 last slide looks exactly like lando bruh istgg

↳ user6 keep in mind last time she attended a race was silverstone 2023 where she met lando

user7 IF WE SEE HER IN THE PADDOCK YOU ALREADY KNOW user8 if they've been friends for years why are yall randomly shipping them all of a sudden user9 bcs y/n has this like "not dating until i'm 25" thing and she turns 25 on saturday user10 God forbid a girl be friends with the opposite gender

⎯

tagged: yncooper, lando formulaupdates After Lando was seen in Philly during the same time as Bradley Cooper and Gigi Hadid's wedding, rumors say that Y/n Cooper will be attending the Spanish Grand Prix when she posted a picture with someone who looks exactly like Lando. What do you guys think? 😳 liked by latestgossip and others

↳ latestgossip UGH U POSTED BEFORE ME

formulaupdates you snooze you lose latestgossip im reporting

↳ user1 they seem like good friends i guess?

↳ user2 remember y/n's no dating until 25 rule ends this saturday!

↳ user3 when i enter the most delusional contest but my competition are gossip pages

↳ user4 theyve been friends for 2 years i mean theyre bound to be close right

⎯

tagged: lando, yncooper latestgossip Pictures from the wedding have been released 😱‼️ Formula 1 driver Lando Norris was also at the wedding wearing blue (possibly to match Y/n's blue dress.) Keep in mind that Y/n's "no dating until 25" rule just ended yesterday 😏 What do you think? Follow latestgossip for more. liked by formulaupdates, lnfour, and others

↳ formulaupdates DON'T DO THIS TO ME IN THE MIDDLE OF WATCHING THE SPANISH GP

latestgossip tough luck bruh the news doesn't stop for a race

↳ user1 was it casual when i went as your date to a WEDDING despite having a busy schedule

↳ user2 20 bucks says lando was just waiting for y/n to turn 25

↳ user3 STOP THEY LOOK LIKE SUCH A POWER COUPLE

↳ user4 idk this doesnt seem very "as friends" to me!

↳ user5 stop shipping them guys i cant like all ur comments

↳ user6 idk who i wanna be in this situation WAIT

⎯

tagged: lando, oscarpiastri yncooper crazy bday weekend ft. these randos 👍 congrats on the 1-2 so happy for u both <3 liked by oscarpiastri, lando, mclaren, and others

↳ user1 HAPPY 25TH YK WHAT THAT MEANS

↳ reneerapp HAPPY BDAY GORGEOUS

yncooper thank you beautiful!

↳ oscarpiastri happy birthday, congrats on the dating rumors

yncooper hahaha funny. user2 SO UNSERIOUS

↳ user2 U AND LANDO ARE SO CUTE

↳ user3 adding oscar in there to make it less suspicious i see

↳ mclaren welcome back to the paddock!

user4 MCLAREN welcoming her back oh she's there to stay user5 no need to hide it how long have they been dating

↳ lando 😈

yncooper God help us all liked by oscarpiastri and others

⎯

tagged: yncooper now playing: so american - Olivia Rodrigo lando.jpg a year of staying silent was WAY too long. happy birthday ❤️ (late post) liked by lando, yncooper, oscarpiastri, and others

📌 ↳ yncooper yeah you still have no rizz

lando stfu i pulled you im doing something right

↳ georgerussell63 YOU'RE TELLING ME YOU WERE ABLE TO HIDE A RELATIONSHIP FOR A YEAR

lando more or less

↳ oscarpiastri best of luck yncooper

yncooper thanks, ill need it

↳ alex_albon DAMN

↳ user1 I FUCKING KNEW IT

↳ user2 OH WHAT

↳ charles_leclerc i honestly don't know how your noisy ass did it but nice job keeping this a secret

↳ maxfewtrell U HID IT EVEN FROM ME?

↳ user3 p2 in spain but p1 in y/n's heart i guess!?!?!?!!?

↳ formulaupdates latestgossip

latestgossip fuck we were so blind

⎯

tagged: lando yncooper it was a stupid rule anyway liked by oscarpiastri, lando, gigihadid, and others

📌 ↳ lando this is me laughing at all your jokes and saying you're so american

user1 THE OLIVIA RODRIGO REFERENCE user2 i might just be in lalalalalalalalalala loooooove

↳ oscarpiastri mama y papa

nicolepiastri Do you mind answering your ACTUAL mother's calls, oscar? Thanks. ☺️

↳ gigihadid y'all were so obvious at the wedding 😂 liked by yncooper and others

↳ user3 SOOO ADORABLE

↳ user4 ok making up that rule to avoid rumors is a smart move icl

↳ reneerapp i feel so shocked and betrayed rn

yncooper im so sorry babes reneerapp dhmu 💔 (kidding ure both so cute)

↳ user5 lando norris i was not familiar of our game

↳ user6 IDK WHO I'M MORE JEALOUS OF HELLOOOO

↳ user7 dare i say best couple on the grid

yncooper idk i like alex and lily better liked by alex_albon, lilymhe, and others lilymhe i love you lando get in line

↳ latestgossip formulaupdates

formulaupdates im deactivating

⎯ end

again, i apologize if this was so underwhelming 😭 i tried my best and i'll try to do even better in my future works i promise :) i'm already working on an arthur leclerc and a kimi antonelli one rn hihi

some pics are a bit glitchy ?? idk what happened with those!

♡ xine

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 smau #formula 1 #formula one #smau #lando norris #lando norris x reader #ln4 #ln4 x reader #fem!reader #hailee steinfeld

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cinemastyles99 · 1 day ago

Text

THE WRONG BOAT

A girls trip gone wrong (or entirely right…)

Lots of smut, public sex, ffm, voyeurism, p in v sex, oral sex, swinging. (Basically no plot)

—

You and your best friend Vivian had barely dropped your bags at the beachside hotel before she was two margaritas deep and flirting like it was her job.

The vacation was supposed to be relaxing—sun, sand, maybe some harmless eye contact with a hot stranger. But Vivian was a magnet for fun, and by the time you finished your first drink, she was deep in conversation with a silver-haired man who smiled like he had secrets.

“Boat party tomorrow,” he said. “Sunset. Open bar. You two would be… very popular guests.”

You and Vivian exchanged a glance. You should have asked what kind of boat party. But instead, you said yes.

⸻

The boat was sleek—white with polished wood trim and music that pulsed through the deck. Sunset spilled over everything in gold, and everyone seemed just a little too attractive to be real.

That’s when you saw him.

Wavy brown hair. Unbuttoned linen shirt. A body that looked like it knew the ocean. He held two drinks in his hands and danced like the rhythm came from him, not the speakers.

He caught your eye. And smiled.

Then… he turned. Walked toward a woman. She was stunning, barefoot and laughing, and she took the drink from his hand with a kiss on the cheek.

Then she pulled another man into her arms and started kissing him.

You blinked. Hard.

The man—Harry, you would soon learn—didn’t seem bothered. In fact, he looked entertained. He stood off to the side, sipping his drink with a small, amused smile.

You noticed the ring on his left hand.

You also noticed he was still watching you.

He came over like you’d summoned him.

“Rum or tequila?” he asked, offering you a glass. His voice was warm, smooth, like it had been slow-cooked over years of mischief.

“Neither,” you said, smiling. “But I’ll take your name.”

“Harry,” he said, handing you the tequila anyway.

You gave yours in return. And when he said it back, it felt like it mattered.

“Dance with me,” he said.

You hesitated. Then his hand slid to the small of your back, and the answer was obvious.

He pulled you into the music, your bodies falling into rhythm too fast to be innocent. His thigh slipped between yours. His breath was hot against your neck.

But then you saw it again—the ring. The wife.

“Where’s your wife?” you asked.

Harry just grinned.

“Do you know what kind of boat this is?” he asked, voice amused.

“…A party boat?”

He laughed softly. “It’s a swingers boat.”

Your brain stalled.

You looked around—really looked—and saw what you’d missed. Hands between thighs. Mouths where mouths shouldn’t be. A couple kissing someone else. Another one definitely not just “dancing.”

Your cheeks burned. “You could’ve led with that.”

Harry stepped closer. “Didn’t want to scare you off.”

“And your wife?”

He tilted his head toward her. She was on a lounge cushion below deck, moaning into the mouth of a man who was absolutely not Harry.

“Like I said,” he murmured. “It’s that kind of boat.”

And then he kissed you.

It started soft. Curious. But deepened fast—his hands on your hips, your fingers tangled in his shirt, your mouths tasting like rum and sun.

And you let him.

Because the moment didn’t feel wrong.

It felt free.

⸻

He pressed you against the railing, his hands roaming, mouth trailing kisses down your neck. The cover-up slipped off your shoulders, your bikini barely keeping pace.

“Still with me?” he whispered, voice rough.

You nodded, breathless.

He turned you to face the deck—your front against the railing, your back against his chest—and slid his hand down between your thighs.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “You’re soaked.”

You gasped as his fingers found your clit, circling slowly while his cock pressed hard against your ass. One finger slid inside. Then another. He worked you like he knew your body already.

Eyes were on you. You knew it. But you didn’t care.

“Let go,” he whispered.

And you did—crying out as the orgasm crashed through you, legs trembling, mouth open to the ocean air.

When you turned to face him, he was already pulling his shorts down.

You didn’t wait. You climbed into his lap, hands on his shoulders, and slid down onto him.

It was perfect.

He filled you completely, moving deep and slow as you clung to him. Your bikini top slipped aside, his mouth wrapped around your nipple, and you started to ride him—harder, faster, until you were shaking all over again.

You came a second time, biting his shoulder as you pulsed around him.

He wasn’t far behind—pulling out just in time, his moan thick and broken as he spilled across your stomach, your thighs, his eyes locked with yours the whole time.

You collapsed into him, heart pounding.

“Still mad I didn’t tell you what kind of boat this was?” he asked, breathless.

You laughed against his chest. “I think I was always supposed to end up here.”

⸻

Later, as you laid tangled with Harry on the lounge chair, someone caught your attention.

Vivian.

She was against the railing, laughing breathlessly with a tall woman in a sheer dress. The woman’s hand was up Vivian’s skirt. Her lips were at her throat. And Vivian? She was glowing.

“Holy shit,” you murmured.

Harry followed your gaze. “She’s hot.”

“I know,” you said. “We’ve always had a vibe, but…”

“She ever kiss you?”

You shook your head. “Not seriously.”

“Maybe she should.”

Just then, Vivian looked up, locked eyes with you—and winked.

Moments later, she sauntered over, top slightly askew, eyes full of mischief.

“Well damn,” she said. “You two are really leaning into the spirit.”

You laughed. “I could say the same.”

“Got room for one more?”

You blinked. Then smiled. “Yeah. We’ve got room.”

Vivian sat beside you and kissed you—slow, searching, like a truth unspoken. Your lips opened. Your hand found hers. Harry groaned behind you.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “You’re killing me.”

“Let her,” you said, pulling Vivian closer.

The kiss deepened. Her hand cupped your breast. Your fingers tangled in her hair. Then her mouth was on Harry’s, her body pressing against his as you touched yourself, already aching again.

The three of you tangled together, heat rising like the tide.

Vivian came first, under Harry’s mouth and your fingers, moaning into the stars.

Then Harry fucked her while you kissed her and held her hand, whispering how beautiful she was. You touched yourself again, coming as you watched her fall apart.

Finally, the three of you collapsed in a pile of sweat, laughter, and tangled limbs.

Vivian laughed. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever done.”

Harry sighed. “You say that like I’m not right here.”

You curled into him, smiling. “So… we coming back next year?”

Vivian grinned. “Next year? I vote we don’t leave.”

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x oc #Harry Styles x you x more

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aismoker · 3 days ago

Text

Gar Bros

Josh and Xander were visiting the City with another couple during Pride. On the evening before the parade, the other couple wanted to have some "quality time", so Josh and Xander were on their own exploring the City. As it was quite a hot evening, they were getting thirsty. After a while, they stopped in front of what seemed to be an old, run-down bar.

"You really think it's a gay bar?" Josh asked. "There hangs a rainbow flag," Xander answered. "It looks so not gay," Josh said, "nothing like the gay bars at home. And what's up with the name... 'Gar Bros'?" "I don't know, maybe they just wrote the word 'gay' wrong and decided to go with it?" Xander said jokingly. "Look, we can just go another bar, if you don't feel comfortable with this one," he continued more seriously. "No, let's try this one, Josh sighed, "we are in the City after all. If we don't like it, we can always leave and maybe, we will have a good story to tell the others."

The moment they stepped in, they wanted to turn around and leqve. The stench of stale beer, sweat, cigar smoke and booming laughter welcomed them. They wanted to back out, but they already had been spotted. "Hey, lads, come sit with us!" They both froze on the spot. They looked at where the voice had come from.

At the far end of the bar sat a rowdy group of men in leather, all smoking thick cigars. They all looked intensely -but not hostile- at them. One of them, who seemed to be the leader of the group, shouted at them: "Come sit with us, lads, and have a drink on the house!" Both Josh and Xander felt more like running away, but they knew they couldn't. They quickly glanced at each other and then walked slowly towards the men.

The men made some space for them on both sides of the table. Xander and Josh squeezed in. They looked at each other nervously.

As they sat down, it was silent for a moment. Beers were set in front of them. Xander and Josh both preferred to drink a glass of Chardonnay, but they didn't dare to ask for it, besides, the bar didn't look like it had a wine cellar. The men all raised their glasses. Josh and Xander followed suit. They both took a sip. The beer was bitter, but not too bad. In fact, it tasted quite good.

Then one of the men spoke up: "So, you lads are here in town for the Pride parade, eh?"

"Y-y-yes," Josh stammered. Shit. He shouldn't have said that. He should have made up something else. Those guys looked so much like a bunch of homophobes. This was definitely a trap to lure gay men in, to be beaten up or something. He looked at Xander, who had turned pale like a ghost, his eyes big in fear.

"Cool!" another guy chimed in, "we are walking also in a group in the parade!"

"S-so, that means you are also... gay?" Xander asked carefully. The guys at the table started laughing loudly. "Of course we are, lad. Never heard of the Gar Bros, haven't you?" Both Xander and Josh admitted they had never heard of the group.

"Well, we are just a group of men, brothers, who never really fitted into the stereotypical gay scene," one of them explained, "so we decided to create our own niche, to fight the stereotypes. We found out that a lot of men are like us, they just need a little nudge, to embrace their inner Gar Bro."

"Gar Bro?" Josh asked, while taking a gulp of the fresh beer that had been put in front of him. He hadn't even noticed that he already had finished the first one. It tasted really good though.

"Yeah, man, gar, like cigar," one of the guys chuckled, "they are kind of our trademark." "Ahhhh, cool," Xander replied, his voice slightly slurring, "we thought it was a typo for 'gay', but that makes more sense."

All the men laughed. Xander and Josh laughed along. Even though they had been apprehensive at first, they now felt really comfortable. The beers helped too.

After a few hours, one of the men leaned towards Josh offered him a cigar. "Hey bud, you wanna try a cigar? You would be a great Gar Bro. Josh flushed. It could be the atmosphere, it could be that it was pre-pride parade gitters, or simply the alcohol, but it was as if something was awakening inside him, something telling him to accept the offer. He tentatively took the smoldering cigar. He studies it. It felt so light in his hand, but at the same time it felt so masculine... so appealing...

He looked for approval to his boyfriend Xander, worrying what he might think if he would take a drag. He always nagged, whenever he smelled smoke. Curiously enough, he hadn't hear him say a word abouy it, since they had entered the bar. His worries were for nothing, however, as when he looked at his boyfriend, he saw that he was looking at him, grinning with a cigar in his mouth himself. He looked different though, Josh thought. More masculine, more like a Gar Bro. He had never noticed the tattoos on his arms before either. Josh shrugged it off, he was probably way too drunk, but he didn't care.

Suddenly Xander spoke, his voice at least an octave lower than normally: "Just give it a try, Bro, it is really great.

Josh took carefully a small puff. As the smoke entered his lungs, a warmth started to spread through his body. His skin started to tingle. It was as if something deep inside was waking up. Something strong. Something masculine. "Fuck," he grunted, as he took a second, more confident, drag from the cigar, "this is good." "I knew you would like it, bro. The Gar Bro in you is coming out already," he said as he pointed to Josh' arms, where tattoos started to appear. Josh looked at his arms. He wasn't alarmed, it felt somehow like it should be that way.

"Yeah, you are right, bro," he said as he took another drag from his cigar and exhaled the smoke playfully into the guy's face. The guy grinned. "You know, there is a way to get the Gar Bro out completely, he whispered, as he put his hand on Josh' ass. Josh quickly glanced at Xander, but he saw that he was already on all fours with two of the Gar Bros taking care of him. "Yes, bro, let's do it, he said as he opened his pants.

The night was long and hot and at the end Josh and Xander had both become members of the Gar Bros.

_____________

THE NEXT DAY, AT THE PRIDE

Josh received a text from the other couple they had come along with to the City. "Where are you, guys? We've not seen you all day. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, everything okay. We met up withbsome great guys and spend the night with them. We're walking in their group at the Pride."

"Oh, really? ;-) That must have been some great guys indeed."

"They are the best! And theybreally want to meet you guys too, so let's meet at Gar Bros after the parade!"

"Gar Bros? Is that a typo?"

Josh showed the message to Xander. Xander grinned, took his now ever-presented cigar out of his mouth and planted a wet kiss on bis bros lips. The bros around them cheered.

#smoking men #ai smoke #cigar #cigarsmoker #cigarman #story

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sweetttsummer · 2 days ago

Text

someplace mystical and warm (his lucky charm)

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: Bucky shows up at your apartment after being MIA for three days during a mission. Basically nothing happens fluff with two emotional stunted humans in love (+ their best friend!)

tw: uhh mention of bullet wound? swearing !!!! nothing graphic...no beta reading (yes that's a warning i never edit)

wc: 3.5k

author's note: personally..i don’t believe in endgame canon so like…this can take place nearly anytime if you’d like to think of it as an au of everyone lives no one dies, but i picture it happening after captain america the winter solider and before civil war (aka peak bucky content era <3) also this was written during writers block so ......

have a request? ask away!

masterlist

Bucky’s whole body fucking hurt. He knew he smelt like blood and sulfur and that weird tangy mix of someone else’s sweat with dirt. Still, he pulled himself up the dark stairwell and ignored the strain in his upper thigh. He tried to remember the last time a mission went so wrong so quickly for him. Logically, his last mission that went so bad was in D.C when Steve showed his bastard of an angel face and pulled him out of 60 years of hell, (but was that really a failure? It got him here, got him the chance to be Bucky again even if it is this weird version of who he used to be), so instead he thought back further. Maybe that half-empty base back in 1934, that was a pretty shitty mission. He stomps his foot down a little aggressively and suddenly, his ears pick up a rustling inside the room behind the door at the top of the stairs.

Bucky pauses for a moment and focuses on the sounds beyond the door. Fuck the serum, fuck Hydra, but man does he like being able to hear something without having to be so close. He closes his eyes and imagines the scene that’s playing out on the other side. The rustling is so obviously Steve’s gentle steps as he pulls himself off the armchair he claims as his own a pause of whatever is being played on the television as he tries to hear another sound from the stairwell and finally his voice soft as he whispers your name. At the sound Bucky immediately kept stepping up the stairs, he knew you’d be here, it’s your apartment, it’s the reason he dropped Natasha off at the compound ignored the blood leaking from his thigh, and raced here. When no response comes, Bucky listens a little closer and makes the assumption you’re asleep, on the couch by the fact that Steve doesn’t move far away, but is still asleep.

“Just me pal, let her sleep,” Bucky says out loud to the empty stairwell. And again, fuck the serum, fuck the U.S. government, but man isn’t it nice to know your best friend can hear you no matter what. That you’re both the only one who’ll listen for the other no matter the distance.

“Buck,” Steve’s voice, despite being behind a closed brick wall, despite being eight stairs away, comes out crystal clear. It settles something in him, how despite everything changing, this, Steve and Bucky, doesn’t. It was something he clung onto when he first entered the 21st century, that Steve is still Steve, even if the others around him don’t see him for the asshole he is. It’s hard that he can’t be the person he was before, but Steve doesn’t seem to hold it against him.

Bucky finishes climbing up the stairs and goes to knock on the door, but isn’t given the chance. Instead, he’s greeted by Steve swinging the door open. Bucky knows this look, it’s the look he used to wear when he found Steve bloody in alleyways when he would show up late to their hangouts, some excuse of helping someone out. It’s a look that screams so obviously in annoyance that yet again someone is fucking bleeding and ‘really Rogers? You can’t go a goddamn day without checking to see if you still bleed red?’

But nowadays, Steves gets to be the one giving the looks, and fuck things do change, even if Bucky tries to bask in the sameness of before.

“Three days without any sort of communication is a dick move,” Steve moved himself out of the doorway and watched as Bucky lugged himself into the apartment.

The living room was dark, off-lit by the kitchen light shining into the room and the television screen. Bucky took a moment to assess the room, green armchair crumbled by the super soldier who was lounging in it, cartoon on a low volume setting playing, a coffee table littered with some mugs and files. His eyes land on their final spot.

You.

Fast asleep on the couch.

Cheek smushed against the throw pillow he assumed Steve put there once you fell asleep.

His favorite blanket tossed over your body, feet peeking out just a little at the bottom.

Bucky doesn’t register the way he seems to drop his shoulders a little and let out a small breath of relief.

“Three days getting my ass kicked and trying to keep Romanoff alive, excuse me if I couldn’t find a payphone,” Bucky grumbled a little and stayed glued to his spot near the door, not wanting to dismiss Steve, but keeping his eyes on your sleeping form. He watched the blanket move against your chest and without a second thought, started to follow your breathing with his own.

“Nat?” Steve said in a way that most people wouldn’t have caught the fear in his voice, most of the agents that they work with would assume he was simply asking for a report.

Bucky is not like most people, he knows Steve, his Stevie, Steven fucking Rogers. Who cares about his friends and doesn’t bleed because he wants to, but because he assumes someone has too, and would rather it be him.

“Natasha is fine, beat up, but no worse for wear, dropped her off at the compound,” Bucky moved a little towards your sleeping body before he turned to Steve, “I fucked off before they had the chance to debrief,” Bucky raises his eyebrow a little at Steve.

And yeah, Steve understands without question because he’s Steve and this is Bucky, “I’ll call in,” Steve moves into the kitchen grunting a small, “You smell terrible, clean up before you wake her up,”

Bucky grunts back a small confirmation and waits until he hears Steve rustling around in the kitchen, followed by the beeps of a microwave before he moves over to where you lay on the couch. You were deep in sleep, Bucky could tell from the moment he saw you, but as he got closer he noticed the fact that despite the way your face was completely relaxed, your fist was clenched under the blanket, curled against your chest. Bucky crouched down next to the couch so he could be face-to-face with you. His thigh burned in pain and he gritted his teeth to avoid the grunt of pain he wanted to let out. Once it passed he brought his right hand up and reached out towards the ball of fist under the blanket.

He stopped his hand before he actually touched you through the blanket and plopped himself down onto one knee, his other leg stretched in an uncomfortable position. He huffed out a breath when the pain slightly subdued in his thigh, the breath reached you because of his closeness and he noticed a piece of hair flutter into your face. Your nose crinkles a little in your sleep, obviously tickled by the slight movement. He goes back to his original movement but instead reaches out to move the hair that tickles you. His left hand picks up the warmth of your skin before he’s really that close and it lets something loose in his chest. He shutters out a small breath and softly presses his hand against your cheek once the hair is moved. You’re soft under his moving thumb, warm in a way he didn’t think would be possible. He caresses the apple of your cheek and shuffles closer when he notices the way you seem to press into his hand unconsciously.

Bucky isn’t angry he’s in the 21st century, not really. He likes the future, it’s got some really shitty things, but mostly, he’s glad he can be here, in front of you, with his best friend in the kitchen mumbling over the phone (one of the cool things of the future, even if he doesn’t particularly care enough to use them.) But he forgets when he’s sent on another mission, he forgets every time, too busy being reminded of the horror he suffered to get here, of the family he never got to say goodbye to, and the life that he was torn from. This mission was no worse at first, having to clear out a Hydra base that was found hidden, try to shuffle through the ruins of information, and pick out what’s important and what’s not (“Just bring it all. Tony can pull his weight for once,” Romanoff’s tone obviously annoyed at the situation.)

The mission was fine, and as miserable as it always was, until the discovery of a basement that neither of them should have missed, and a crowd of goons that knew exactly how to throw off a widow, how to capture a spider and a solider in one go and god damnit they could really they could have the Winter Solider back? (Bucky bite back the bitter laugh, he’d find a way to kill himself before that happened. Romanoff glared at him when she realized what he was thinking. Fucking spies and their uncanny mind-reading abilities) and suddenly Bucky was stuck taking a bullet for Natasha fucking Romanoff as they escaped and they spent two days in a dark damp abandoned mineshaft and then a shitty rundown “safe house”.

But none of that matters now, not with you breathing in front of him, even if the bullet wound had been ripped open over and over to keep more metal from becoming a part of him. He didn’t notice Steve finish his discussion on the phone, didn’t move when he heard the microwave open and close again and Steve stepped back into the living room.

“Nat says she owes you a bullet,” Steve whispers as he pulls the coffee table closer to where Bucky is sitting, “Also said I should take it out of you,” Steve sighed and dropped a paper box full of something full of spices onto the coffee table. Bucky felt his mouth water at the smell reaching his nose, yeah the 21st century isn’t too bad, 40s Bucky Barnes wouldn’t have been able to dream of the foods he has now grown used to. The box of Korma makes him think of his Ma, of her own cooking, he’s sure she would have been able to recreate anything she tried, she just never got the chance to try so many things.

“Indian for dinner?” Bucky says.

“If you consider watching her push around her Paneer and mindlessly chewing on cold naan at 1am as dinner, sure” Steve sighed back.

Bucky’s hand still rested on your cheek, his eyes double-checking over you just once before he finally pulled his eyes to Steve, and sat back in the armchair. Steve, for the most part, looks the same as when Bucky left for the mission two weeks ago, but Bucky knows better. He squints just slightly and takes in Steve’s tousled hair, the clench in his jaw that he doesn’t seem to realize he’d been holding. Bucky knows Steve worries, if anyone understands what it means to worry about your best friend, it’s Bucky. They were made to care, to worry, about each other. Bucky’s eyes land on Steve’s gaze and he holds it for just a moment before finally shrugging his left shoulder, Steve lets out a humorless laugh and unclenches his jaw.

“First time I’ve gotten her to sleep for more than three hours since we lost your comms,” Steve mumbles, “Seriously punk, you smell raggedy,” Steve crinkled his own nose.

“Gotta take the metal outta my thigh before I get shiny clean Rogers,” Bucky’s head motions to the thigh he has laid out parallel to the couch.

Steve doesn’t say anything else instead just moves again and pulls a first aid kit from some drawer under the coffee table. He plops himself near Bucky’s leg and starts to rip off the pants leg without asking. Bucky bites back the urge to bitch at how messy Steve is going to make his thigh but quickly loses whatever fight he had in him.

“Humans need sleep, at least a healthy 5 hours a night”

“Well tell your girl that, not me”

Bucky huffed out a little and his eyes went back to focusing on your sleeping face. If you were awake he’d crucify Steve for calling you his girl, because you’re not, at least not really. You’re his girl in the way that he doesn’t think there is anyone else in the world. In the way that in that stupid damp cave, he thought about praying but only to keep you safe. You’re his girl in the way that he goes to Starks gala’s to be able to dance with you and every Sunday dinner is now yours. You’re his girl in the way that he has taken the time to root through the piece in his chest where his heart was supposed to be pulled out the scrapes left of it and put them into your pocket for you to keep. He thinks he might love you, but also knows that it’s better if he doesn’t.

So instead, he finds himself acting as a loyal guard dog, (at least that was what Sam called him last week, when Bucky moved himself between you and the empty New York city street after a night out drinking.) He spends his free days with you, had learnt about the 21st century through what you like. He thanks whatever is out there that Steve was your friend to start with, made it easy for him to simply be around.

“Three days, Buck. You’re lucky she didn’t hijack a plane and come search for you herself.” Steve started to poke his fingers into the wound, a pair of long tweezers in the other. Bucky gritted his teeth.

“If she even tried you better kick your star-spangled ass into first gear and stop her,”

Steve looks up from his mangling of Bucky’s thigh and gives him a look that screamed contempt, “You disappear again and I’ll be joining her, dick”

Bucky rolled his eyes without thinking. He moved his hand from where it was still against your cheek and moved it to let his fingers run gently through your hair. He gritted his teeth a little when he felt Steve jab the tweezers into the wound. Bucky debated bitching at Steve, then remembered it was Steve. The fact that he wasn’t in more pain was shocking considering Steve’s bedside manner.

“It’s out” Steve mumbles and Bucky hears the plink of the bullet against the wood floor.

Bucky didn’t acknowledge it instead just moving his leg so it was no longer stretched. He reached out with his empty hand to grab the cartoon of food on the coffee table and set it down close to his thigh on the ground as Steve moved himself back to the green armchair he was taking up before.

Bucky kept his hand gently against your hair before he tore his eyes to the television playing a late-night cartoon still.

“This show sucks,” Bucky sighs a little.

“There’s a Battlestar Galactica rerun on another channel?” Steve is already moving for the remote as he speaks. Bucky grunts in acceptance.

___

You don’t remember falling asleep. The last thing you remember is Steve stealing the plate of Indian food he had doled out for you the one you barely touched, and tossing a blanket towards you.

It had been the longest three days you had ever experienced. It had started when on a random Thursday, Bucky and Natasha missed their call in for a simple mission. It wasn’t like either of them, really they rarely went on missions together as it was, something about the two agents together made people a little nervous. You personally, did not get it, maybe you were biased but you found both of them secretly delightful, funny in a sly way, the kind of funny that makes you feel like you’re in the joke.

It had been three days, Three days of no sign of either of them. Three days of listening to Tony Stark debate over and over with JARVIS or FRIDAY sometimes both about the geography of the land, of the possibility of survival of stats, and more stats. You assumed Steve was planning his own rescue mission after the second day, so you had started to plot how to let you into the plan. The begging you’d do to have a chance to help.

After a second the sleep fog seems to have finally cleared and you hear Steve’s small sleep mumbling from the armchair close by, sunlight try and peek through the curtains over your windows and the small noise of New York City existing outside your window. You grimace, annoyed that he let you sleep for so long, how much time have you lost that could have been used searching? Why hasn’t he acted on his plan yet? How much longer before something finally happens?

You go to step off the couch when you feel a hand suddenly wrap around your ankle,

“At least wait for the bullet wound to finish healing before you start steppin on me,” Bucky grumbles from the floor.

You feel your heart stop at the same time the startled gasp is let out. Quickly you pull your feet up and sit up for just a second before Bucky follows suit.

Despite having just woken up, you move faster than you think you ever have. It doesn’t completely register to you as you throw yourself towards Bucky’s slightly sat-up form. You throw your arms around him, feeling his warmth through the skin-tight shirt he is wearing. It’s the closest you’d had been with Bucky since for weeks and maybe if you didn’t think he was dead just a few hours ago you would have thought twice before the affection.

“Jesus,” Bucky grunts a little at the sudden armful of you. It takes only a few moments of brain freeze before he’s wrapping his own arms around you. He pushes himself into a full sitting position with his left hand before it comes up to rest on the back of your head. He feels himself soften at the way your face goes to rest in the crook of his neck and shoulder, the tight grip you have barely registers to him until you squeeze just a little tighter. The exhaustion he felt early was still lingering in his bones, but your weight against him causes him to let go of the tension in his shoulder.

“Thought you were- “

“Well, ‘m not, I did miss Sunday dinner, sorry,” Bucky interrupted before you had the chance to freak yourself out.

“It’s okay, told Steve you’d be fine,” You try and sound lighthearted but know you miss the mark.

Bucky lets out a soft laugh and without thinking presses his face down towards the top of your head. He waits for you to say something else, waits for this moment to break. When it doesn’t right away, he lets himself adjust, moving so you’re still on top of him, but now he can lean against the front of the couch. He lets his eyes flutter shut when he feels you completely melt against him. It was this that had him living in that shitty mine shaft, it was this he was thinking of when Natasha mentioned the fact that they had missed their call-in. He thinks of telling you how he feels and has been living through the fantasy for the last three days. How you’d coo at him once you realized how soft he’d gotten for you, how you might even kiss him before he even finishes telling you.

But now you’re here, and he feels your hands move across his back slowly, over his arms, as if you’re making sure he’s real. You pull your face from the place it was resting against his neck and he keeps his own eyes shut, the fluttering of his heart enough to keep him from being able to face you. He knows he doesn’t deserve this, that what he has is already more than he should be given, so he bites his tongue, and thanks the world for letting him have at least this.

“Did you say bullet wound?!” Your arms are running down the side of Bucky’s arms as he nods at your words.

“Steve took care of it,” Bucky sighs at the touch and finally opens his eyes to see your own worried expression.

“I’m all good now, sugar” He whispers as you pout, “I’m all good,” He repeats even softer keeping his eyes focused on yours until you crinkle your nose and go back to squeezing him, your face pressed against his right shoulder.

For once, despite the healing wound and days of exhaustion settling over him, he’s not lying. He’s good, even if the desire to kiss you is screaming, he’s good with this. He’ll take what he can be given and be thankful you even look at him.

________

“Hey, Bucky?” You whisper against the skin of his neck after a few hours of sitting in the same position.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“You smell absolutely terrible,” You pull away and grimace a little at him, playful but sincere.

“Told you to clean up before you woke her up,” Steve grumbled from his spot eyes still closed but obviously awake now, “I’ll go pick up breakfast, I’m thinking sandwiches from that shop on the corner of 18th?”

#bucky barnes x reader #writing! writing! writing!#i have the reaching for sunlight epilogue coming....just writers block #so this was written to try and get pass that!#bucky x reader #bucky comfort #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #james barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader #james bucky barnes

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ssareiids · 2 days ago

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HIIII OMGGMG i love ur theme its sauurr cutesie i love it!1!1 i wasnt sure if you take requests or not so feel free to ignore this erm.💔💔

i was wonderign if u could write for spencer reid (PLEASEPLEASPLESE) like definitelt domestic fluff and like it's the two of them baking and uh it goes wrong but reader and spence just giggle like idiots at the mess they made

SWEET ON U!

pairing: s2! spencer x reader

summary: spencer and you both excel in many things in life– just... not baking.

tw/cw: if you're scared of fluff then back off /j LITERALLY NOTHING TO ADD AS A TRIGGER, if smth does count as a trigger here though please tell me.. probably innacuracies in the baking, sorry bakers i had google and a dream

shayli's ted talk: guys i swear i've been writing since my casey oneshot it's just that i'm... i'm employed now🙁.. also I LOVE YEW ANON, guys request things plz... im going through a writer's slump . we dont mention the dilauded here he's happy okay

Today was one of the days that God– or whatever being that resided in the clouds, gave Spencer a day off.

Well, it was more like the day off was forced on him. If you knew Spencer Reid, you knew he didn't take vacations, didn't use up sick days, and would probably win an award for perfect attendance if it existed for the FBI. He had denied himself of a freedom office workers would love to have, up until this very moment.

Hotch has made his words clear, and easy to understand.

"Take a day off, Reid."

Said in that same poker face Hotch always wore, the one that was burned into his eyes with how often he saw it. It was rare for the Unit chief to ever smile, and when he did, no one would be there to see it.

Getting back on track though...

You had a much more positive reaction to his day off, it may only be one day of freedom from case files and coffee mugs that were filled with a caffeine that bordered nowhere near luxury. But you would take it, you just didn't know what to do with it.

When he had first informed you of his day off, you had been overjoyed at the fact you'd finally have your boyfriend to yourself instead of playing a never ending tug of war between the job and you.

The excitement quickly faded when you realized.

You had no idea what to do with him.

I mean, you could just cuddle up all day and sleep the entire day away. But, that wasted alot of time, time that you and Spencer rarely had together.

You then wondered if you should ask him what he wanted to do, but unfortunately, ever since the two of you had begun this relationship– Spencer follows behind you everytime.

Literally and figuratively.

His half awake mind had once followed you to the kitchen when you woke up to go get a glass of water, and let me tell you. Seeing a 6' foot man behind you at 2:00 AM does things to you, and not the good type. You screamed and he screamed back, both in fear.

You knew that he'd go along with whatever shenanigans you had in mind for your couple bonding time, so you brainstorm, maybe not as fast as your boyfriend but you think.

You sit on the couch, criss cross applesauce, while looking down onto the floor. Eyebrows furrowed in deep thought as you scour the files of your mind for an idea on how to spend this rare Saturday.

"You look like me" Spencer tries to joke, it falls flat and slams face first into the floor when you don't respond. Too lost in the rabbit hole you've created to try and say something witty back.

Spencer furrows his eyebrows too, and approaches you warily– slowly, like you were some sort of threat he had to neutralize before sitting down next to you on the couch. "... Are you okay..?" He probes, trying to see if his profiling mind can do him any good in guessing what's up with you.

Then, as if the electrons– or atoms, whatever. Lined up in your brain to form the first idea that would suffice, you sat back up straight. A peaceful glint in your now not squinted eyes as you turn your head to face Spencer.

He looks confused, like... really really confused.

".. Love...?" He tries the pet name as if it would snap you back into reality, and you simply grab his hand before smiling at him.

"We are going to bake."

"... 'Kay."

As you had planned he had agreed to the idea without much second thought. Which was funny since he's so meticulous with the things in his life, maybe he's just gotten used to you bringing chaos into it.

You two had spent maybe about 30 minutes or so wondering what you should bake, you thankfully didn't need a search engine for ideas this time because Spencer was on board with being the recipe holder.

"How about chocolate chip cookies?"

"We don't have chocolate chips."

He responds curtly and you snort before rolling your eyes at him.

"I wonder who's fault is that.." You reply back, and he opens his mouth in protest, but he never actually says anything back knowing that you're right. Giving him a smug grin that said "Exactly."

"How about a Pie?"

"Well... I suppose we do have the ingredients for a normal pie, but we'll also need a variety of fruits, maybe more chocolate, and–"

"SPENCER."

"Okay, let's make a pie."

The two of you retire to your kitchen, getting all the baking necessities and tools out. You didn't even know he had all this stuff in his apartment, and when you asked he said they came with the place when he moved in.

You two learn alot of things about each other through small talk while trying not to get shells in the mixture when cracking the eggs.

You learn that Spencer has a sweet tooth, but you figured that out when you caught him putting 4 packets of sugar into his morning coffee.

Spencer learns that you almost broke your jaw on a jawbreaker once when you were 16, he furrowed his eyebrows and asked why you did it knowing it was called a jawbreaker.

You learn that Spencer has read your favourite book approximately 143 times and counting. You nearly teared up and almost got your salty tears in the melted chocolate.

And Spencer learns that you had a pet chameleon who ran away. He suggested it could still be in the house but just camoflauged, and you threw the cupful of flour at him.

You both stand there in silence, unmoving, like a showdown between 2 cowboys with only flour and sugar at their hands.

Spencer stands there, ruffled in the white powder that now adorns his pyjamas like snow, his face covered in so much of it he nearly looked like a ghost. He only reacts when you start laughing.

You don't laugh gently, or chuckle at the sight. No you laugh like you've just seen the most funniest thing in your life, and in a way... it kind of was. You hold onto the counter and hunch over, laughing like you were hysterical.

He looks over to his back, trying to find a weapon to launch back at you until he lands on the melted chocolate sauce, he glances back at you. Completely unaware of his plans before reaching his finger towards it, ew.. but it'll be worth it.

Once his finger is coated in the gooey sweet treat, he smudges it on your cheek, not carefully nor affectionately, he rubs it on your cheek– shamelessly.

You look up at him and pause your laughter, a look of faux offense swirling in your eyes as you try and find something to retaliate against him.

The innocent unbaked pie crust on the pan lay there, unaware of it's fate to come as you peel it off ready to lunge it at him. Spencer reacts just as fast though and gets his own piece of the pie crust

"Uh uh, don't you dare." Spencer says, raising his piece of pie crust like it was a shield against yours. You squint your eyes as if in focus before flicking your share of the pie crust at him.

He dodges, barely, before trying to swat you with his own. You jump back and almost bump into the kitchen island before grinning and reaching for an egg.

"I have a weapon and I am not afraid to use it!" You reply, holding the egg at him as if it was a knife, Spencer plays along and drops his pie crust onto the floor and raises his hands into the air "Ok! Ok! I surrender!" He says, his voice squeaky in defeat.

You two eventually agree to a ceasefire before getting to work on recreating the pie crust that you two had used in your food fight.

This time you work in silence, a comfortable one that came easy after the little playful banter you just had, you worked better this time since you both had gotten used on how to start and how to use all the baking tools.

After the pie crust had been filled with the melted chocolate and had been sent away to the oven, you two both fall back onto the couch.

Or it's more like you land on the couch and Spencer lands on you.

"Ah– hey!"

You shout when you feel his body weight practically jump on you, he grins toothily in his little victory when you let him stay ontop of you, knowing that you really didn't mind.

The two of you sit there in silence, waiting for the timer above the stove to ding so you both can try out your creation, there isn't much conversation.

But you didn't need to talk, your touches on his carefully done hair, and his head buried into your neck spoke enough of the love that blossomed nicely between you two. It got you thinking.

It had you imagining what you would be doing if you never met Spencer, if you never had a sudden surge of confidence to ask the pretty boy at the library out, or if he had rejected you. It had you wondering what fate held for you, the idea of fate itself.

DING! DING! DING!

You nearly push Spencer off of you when you hear the alarm's call, apologizing hurriedly before rushing along to the oven, with Spencer following right behind you, even if he was in the middle of having a very good nap.

He grabs you the oven mittens and urges you to be the one to get the pie, you don't question it, he was clumsy with his hands– half awake or not.

The oven door opens like the gates to heaven, in it's wake an aroma of chocolate and sweetness follows, sending you and Spencer into a momentary trance before you finally get it out of the heated space.

You both try to reach for it until you remember the thing is still... extremely hot.

Neither of you have the patience to wait for the sweet treat, so you leave it out on the fire exit, hoping that the windy breeze of the night cools it down enough, and that there aren't any pie swipers nearby.

The two of you giggle like little kids waiting for the smoke of the pie to dissipate and the heat to finally turn cool. When Spencer announces it's been 15 minutes, you finally grab it back into the safety of your home.

The sound of plates being taken from the dish rack and a knife being taken fills the kitchen alongside your giddiness, you bring it onto the counter with an eagerly waiting Spencer with a knife.

"You sure you can cut it?"

"I'm not 6."

He replies stubbornly before squinting his eyes and focusing on the slice he's about to cut, you look away to pass time as he cuts his own slice, but then look back when you see that he's taking... forever.

"Spence?" You ask when you see he hasn't even made an indent on the pie, raising an eyebrow when you see the focused glint in his eyes usually reserved for crime scenes and cases– not for cutting a pie.

"Shh..." He hushes you with a raised finger before finally making the cut, clean and simple, before handing it to you.

"I cut the pie for you in pi." He says proudly, as the joke flies over your head, which is usually supposed to happen to Spencer, not to you.

"... What?"

"You just don't get it." He shoos you away from the thought with a gesture of his hands.

extra:

"Hey, Spence.. about your joke earlier." You bring it up as the two of you lay in bed, social battery well drained after the events of today.

He only hums in acknowledgement of your conversation starter before allowing you to continue.

"Did you try cutting it for me.. in the size of pi or something? Like... pi as in the number..?"

"ты никогда не узнаешь."

"STOP DOING THAT."

shayli's ted talk: i used google translate for the russian so don't judge me... heh.. ok bye i'm gonna disappear and not write for another month.. maybe..

written by @ssareiids

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #doctor spencer reid #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fan fiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfic #written by shayliᥫ᭡

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levigarden999 · 11 hours ago

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okay okay how about fluff of katsuki bakugo with a sweetheart princess of a reader.. Think of like.. fluttershy from my little pony. readers just like her in a way. Shes endlessly caring in a sickening way and puts up with Bakugos shit with nothing but a sweet smile and adoring gaze. bonus points if reader collects things like pretty dolls and novelty mugs

a perfect match ୨ৎ soft!reader x bakugo

⋆˚࿔ notes : love this dynamic thank u anon ⋆˚࿔

the fact you and bakugo started dating was definitely a surprise to everyone. you two were like the complete opposites of each other – while bakugo was impatient and temperamental, you were incredibly patient and kind to everyone. bakugo for sure couldn’t understand how you seemed to have endless gentleness and care towards everyone around you, while he mostly just pushed people away without even really intending to.

however, you never pushed him away, which shocked bakugo. it almost scared him and he often thought he didn’t even deserve your affection or love. but you told him otherwise – you loved him for who he was, you loved his temper and strong willed nature, his determination and sense of justice and rightfulness. while you sometimes gave him a parental scolding for being straight up rude to people, you never got angry. never yelled. you always approached him with kindness and love – which was exactly what bakugo had craved for his whole goddamn life.

that was probably why you were so perfect for each other in the end.

to be honest, you were at first insecure too. you liked to dress up in soft dresses, wear feminine makeup and you even collected those old-fashioned pretty dolls. you actually had a room in your house just for those dolls and their own clothes. often people thought you were weird for it and somewhat different, or that your soft and gentle attitude was fake, pretentious and annoying. it hurt you, because it wasn’t. you were just that type of a person, and you couldn’t understand what was so wrong with it.

when bakugo saw your doll-collection for the first time, he reacted in a way you didn’t expect. you two were already dating, but you still were prepared for him to laugh or make fun of you for it. but he didn’t.

he only stood there, arms crossed and a firm, observing look on his face.

”i bet it took a while for you to collect these” he remarked casually, voice staying even but not judging. you blinked with your long lashes, completely surprised.

”uh, yeah. i started when i was little so… took me a while, yeah” you said, a hint of insecurity creeping in your tone.

however, bakugo chuckled as his eyes focused on a certain doll. he walked over to it and pointed at it.

”this one looks just like you” he said, grinning as he looked back at you.

you blushed, because you hadn’t even realized that. it was the prettiest doll you owned, in your opinion.

while bakugo made you feel better in his own way, you also made him feel better.

when bakugo had his tough moments, when he cried and yelled from anger and frustration, panic causing his body to shake and writhe on your bed – only you managed to calm him down.

he grasped on your shirt, sobbed against your chest, while you rubbed his back and hummed him a tune to ease his outburst. you literally had endless patience and care for him. you grounded bakugo back to the present moment without even trying to act like a savior or anything. you just simply understood that bakugo had his moments when he desperately needed a safe person’s support. he even told you that you were the first person in his life ever who hadn’t judged or scolded him for his outbursts, even though he had had them since he was a young child.

you also understood that bakugo just wasn’t the best at socializing. he didn’t know how to read social cues, he was clumsy with his words and often showed his emotions way too harshly than he actually intended to. this was why people often simply didn’t like or accept him- but you did. you knew that bakugo had his troubles, and with careful, gentle chiding, you educated him that it wasn’t exactly respectful to call every single person ’an extra’, ’an asshole’ or ’a bastard’. he slowly – slowly – learnt.

you and bakugo loved each other endlessly, even though you both had very different ways of showing it. you were the one who openly clung to him, cooed him and told him you loved him. your favorite thing to do was to lay on top of him, squeeze his cute chubby cheeks while he blushed furiously and grumbled for you to stop, even though he secretly loved how giggly and soft you acted around him. bakugo mainly just did possessive gestures, such as defending you and discreetly resting his hand on your lower back in public.

bakugo's heart absolutely melted when you looked at him with those adorable puppy eyes. every time you did that, eyes full of adoration and love and clinginess, he never, ever, said no to you. he was ready to literally bring you the damn moon if you'd ask him. those eyes were the reason why there had been a few... additions to your already huge doll collection. and the money did not leave your purse.

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aernx · 12 hours ago

Text

IT'S A WRAP ! ⌗ 이희승 ( oneshot ver. )

synopsis ⟢ wrapping is easy when it comes to dumplings. but when it comes to your feelings…not so much. after getting separated from your childhood nemesis, lee heeseung, you think your life will go smooth like butter (js like what BTS sang). but fate has other plans when he was forced to help around in your family’s dumpling restaurant.

◌ wordcount﹒ 13.1k

◌ pairing﹒ lee heeseung x fmr

◌ genre﹒ childhood enemies to lovers, hs au, takes place in their summer break, reader is taehyun’s (txt) older sister, tbh no srs hating js silly rivalry, crack , heeyn parents r silly

◌ featuring﹒ txt, chaewon lsrfm, enhypen, brief mentions of seventeen (ily joshua n hoshi)

◌ warnings﹒ profanities, harsh language, jealousy, heeyn hating eo, kissing, fluff, heeyn silly stuffs, denial, i think that's it, oh probably bad and inconsistent grammar at times, miscommunication (that shiii)

aerinotes ⟢ u guys don't know how much i giggled at the screen when i write this 😁 THIS FIC MEANS SOOO MUCH TO MEE I HOPE U GUYS GIVE IT SOME LOVE 💗💗💗 also MY FIRST EVER LONG FIC??? aerin long fic debut!!! so im sorry if there r lots of mistakes n it's kinda messyy n if the pacing is badd !! i'll improve next time guys TRUST‼️‼️

this was previously a smau but now the smau is discontinued. i can finally say goodbye peacefully to my heeyn 🙁 i’ll miss them <3 hope you guys enjoyed this! be sure to leave a like, comment n reblog to let me know watchu think abt it !! ENJOYYYY

"MOM YOU WANT ME TO DO WHAT!?" It’s only been a week since you returned from your exchange student program in Japan yet your mom was quick to throw you a bucket of ice water on a hot summer evening.

“Which part of it is not clear, dear? Heeseung is going to start working in our dumpling shop this in this last month of summer and I want you to be his mentor tomorrow.” Excuse me what? Mentor?? “You know, teach him how to use the register, how to serve the customers, and later how to wrap the dumplings.”

No way there was no chance in hell that you were going to do this. Become Heeseung’s mentor? Hell no! You would rather give Taehyun your first born privileges.

Okay, maybe reasoning with her would opt her to change her decision. “Yes, I heard you for the first time but I can’t really place the reason why you want me to do this, mom. You know that we don’t…get along that well.”

Don’t get along that well? You scoffed internally at your choice of words, it was clearly an understatement, your mother knew that too.

You and Heeseung never got along. At all. Your mother and his mother were the best of friends so ultimately that means that he was there for good and you could not escape him. At first, mini-you was glad at the thought of having a childhood friend. Maybe you two could replicate the friendship of your mothers.

Yet at the age of five, where the two of you met for the first time and he stole your toy and decided to hide it from you, you knew from that moment that you would never get along. That first impression only triggered the competitiveness in you and it became a never ending game of chase. Of course, your mothers showed disappointment with the fact that their children did not enjoy each other’s presence, hoping that as they grow up, you and him would learn to overcome this little feud of yours.

Oh how they were wrong. Along the years that follow, your hatred towards each other only grew. Even though you both hated each other, he was still a big part of your childhood. And him being your neighbour didn't even help. You were so fucking bored of that face of his.

Eventually everyone got used to this relationship you shared with the boy and both parents didn’t try to do anything about it anymore. After all there was no point.

Although your feelings towards Heeseung were more on the negative side, you adored his parents, and your parents adored him too. Your families were close but you two weren’t. When you were younger, you would make it your life mission to get Heeseung to cry and he made it his to make you irritated. But as you both grew into adolescence your behaviour began shifting.

Now, instead of sitting by your side to provoke you, he would sit the farthest from you at the dinner table and you would do your best to ignore him at every family event. This never changed, even when you got into highschool. Both of you would try your hardest to let the other’s presence turn to ghosts, yet the tension around you remains haunting.

“Come on Yn, I know you don’t have the best relationship with Heeseung, as you guys are always fighting like cats and dogs,” Your mother muttered the last part quietly. “But I trust you with him, dear. Even though you both hate each other, you’re the one that knows him best there and I feel like he’ll focus more under your gaze instead of anyone else.”

Gosh why was your mother so persistent? “Mom, have you met us?” You can hear your mother’s snicker. “Then you should know that he won’t listen to me! There’s a reason why we don’t get along, mom. He’s gonna cause so much ruckus if I become his mentor. I find no problem with asking Taehyun to guide him instead.”

Your mother knew that you didn’t want to go forward with this. But it was really a last resort of sorts. And a little part of her wished that maybe this occasion would end your feud with him because she and Mrs. Lee always wanted their kids to get along well, just like them.

“Initially, I thought about that too. But Taehyun already has a lot of plans for tomorrow and you just went home like a week ago so you have lots of free time before your senior year starts.” She pointed out.

“Who knows maybe Heeseung changed these past six months without you. Maybe he even misses fighting with you everyday.” Chuckling, your mother gave you a knowing look as your face scrunched at the thought of that.

Hah! He? Missed you? There was no way. Heeseung was probably glad you were gone for six months. In fact he probably wished you were gone forever.

“Come on, my Yn. We’ll go shopping together with Aunty Lee and I’ll get you those concert tickets for that group you like so much. I’ll buy 4 for Chaewon, Yeonjun, and Soobin too. So you guys can watch it together.”

Your eyes lit up as her offer ringed your eardrums. One day of mentoring Heeseung for shopping sprees with your mom and Aunty Lee PLUS concert tickets for you and your friends?? Sounds like a fair deal.

“Ah…you know me so well, mother. You know I will never decline those.”

“You know it, darling.”

“You want me to-what?!” Disbelief, Heeseung stood from the couch and turned towards his mother who was currently sitting cross legged on her armchair.

“What did you expect?! I told you to stop sneaking around all the time and this is final! You are working in MANDU4U, Yn’s family dumpling shop tomorrow.”

Spending his summer break working? Are you fucking kidding?

“Bu-”

Mrs. Lee stood up from her chair, levelling her gaze with her son. “No buts! I already talked to your Aunty Kang and all you have to do is show your ass over there and work.” From the tone of her voice, Heeseung knew that he messed up. It was bad, like REAL bad. Maybe he should’ve listened to his friend's advice to NOT sneak out.

Mrs. Lee shrugged before continuing. “Think of this as a new experience. You’ll be learning new things and you’ll be earning money. I see nothing wrong with this. You don’t have any right to complain, young man.”

As much as Heeseung dreaded it, he knew no point in resisting. He was at fault and if it was in other circumstances he would stand his ground but he knew better. Oh well, at least she didn’t forbid him to hang with his boys.

And besides it’s not as if he’s going to meet her. He’s aware of the fact that she went back from that program a week ago. Of course he was, his family insisted that they also accompanied picking up Yn from the airport.

Did he come along? Yes. Did he have the option not to? Also yes. Did he know why he came along? Not really. Maybe he missed her and their fights just a little bit. Or maybe not. That question remained ominous as he himself didn’t even know the correct answer.

But was he glad with the fact that she was gone for the past six months? Of course he was! Well it was a bit more quiet than usual but hey! Quiet is good right? Yeah of course. Now that she’s back does he still hate her guts? For sure, yeah definitely.

“Also Yn will be your mentor and I want you to be on your BEST behaviour and do whatever she says.” Mrs.Lee abruptly added before striding out of the room trying her best to contain her smile.

“Mom WHAT?!”

You idly stood on the gazebo of your family’s shop, glancing back and forth towards your watch as the digital digits morphs into what seemed to be eight past twenty. Heeseung was supposed to be here at eight sharp but here you were, still waiting for his stupid ass to come.

It was only five minutes after that, the sight of Lee Heeseung appeared in your line of view. Fucking finally. “Heeseung, you’re late.” You aligned your body opposing his, blocking the entry of the door with your figure as he tried to brush himself through.

“Tch, it’s whatever. Let’s just get started.” His hand longed for the handles but you were quick to stop him. “Drop that attitude, Heeseung. I don’t want this as much as you do so you better not make this any harder on me.” Your grip on his hand opted him to fix his gaze with yours.

You tighten your grip on his wrist. Not caring whether it hurted him or not–which it probably didn’t. “Use that tone on me one more time and you’ll be scrubbing the bathroom floors instead of working behind the cash register.”

Heeseung clenched his fists in between your grasp on his wrist, a low attempt of wanting to break free. “You’re not my mother, you can’t tell me what to do.” He gritted as an annoyed expression washed over his features.

“You’re right, Seungie. I’m not. I’m your employer. And you-” Your point finger shoved his chest “-have to do exactly what I say."

Lee Heeseung hated it–hated this. That helpless feeling of not being in control. Especially when his arch enemy is the one stringing him like a puppet.

Kang Yn loved it–loved this. How couldn’t you when your arch nemesis had to grovel in submission for the sake of punishment from his mother. It’s fun really. It's like having a maid–you mean– personal assistant of your own.

“No Heeseung, that's not the right way!”

“Be more thorough when checking someone’s order!”

“Gosh this is tiring. Heeseung, get me a coffee.”

Ignoring some mistakes made, the first day of work went surprisingly fine. You taught him various things. Starting from how to work the register and basic manners to serve customers and he was actually going along with what you instructed. Gee, maybe your mom was right all along–you could be really intimidating sometimes.

“This is it for today.” You said, handing him a pen to sign his attendance. “Okay, Thanks.” He calmly received it before signing under his name. Along the string hours of work between you and Heeseung, the atmosphere remained tense. But much to your surprise (and a certain part-timer named Sunoo who went to your school) the both of you endured the entire shift without biting each other’s head off.

Sure there were some occasional fights here and there but the graph always dies down after, returning to its normal wavelength as the days progress. And you were quite happy with the outcome.

One; you did not let the intrusive thoughts win and slice his throat when he was on his break and two; you did not embarrass yourself in front of the customers by screaming frantically at him (although you did do it in private) You could say that this day was a success and you were proud of yourself. Ah you were finally free from him.

Or so you thought.

“So you’re telling me your mom told you that you’ll be mentoring Heeseung for the rest of the summer break?” Soobin questioned, making you groan against your pillows. You raised your head towards the window still, the sight of the moon greeted you in an instance, gracing your room with its incandescent glow.

"She made sure to leave that part the first time she mentioned, alright." You grumbled under your breath.

Chaewon patted your head as she noticed your current distress while Yeonjun and Soobin looked at you with sympathy laced upon their irises. It was currently near twilight in the nearing end of summer. From a distance, you can hear a few neighbours that stood up late making BBQ in their backyards, while some of the houses remained still and quiet.

The light on your window was like a singular lamp amidst a dark room to your unlit neighbourhood. It was summer break so your parents didn’t mind you staying up late. They even let your friends stay over with the exception of Soobin and Yeonjun sleeping on a spare mattress on the floor.

“Yn, I knew it was too suspicious that your mom was offering you THAT much just for one day of mentoring!” Yeonjun pointed out from his mattress below before joining everyone on your bed.

“At least you’re getting money out of this, am I right?” Chaewon said after smacking the poor boy with her elbows, triggering a laugh from Soobin as he saw Yeonjun’s current state.

“-Ouch! Gosh Chae that hurt!” He threw her a nasty glare and Chaewon stuck her tongue out in response. “Plus the fact that Mama Kang AND Mama Lee promised to take you shopping makes it too good to be true to just make that a one time thing.” Yeonjun shrugged before dodging another hit from Chaewon.

“Ugh I hate it when you’re smart sometimes, Junnie.”

“Don’t forget the fact that your mom promised to buy us all concert tickets!” Soobin reminded. “Work your ass off Ms.Kang. We would be thanking you for your services!” He stood from the bed, bowing 90 degrees to you causing the room to erupt in laughter.

“You all better be thanking me for this! I don’t know how I'm going to handle him for the rest of the summer! He’s literally my neighbour! I see him everyday. I can even see him across my window!” Once more, you buried your head on the pillows, gaze unconsciously averting to the blinds covering the glass panels.

“But you hadn’t seen him nor contacted him for six months right? Surely he changed.” Chaewon pondered earning a scoff from you. “Girl let me tell you, he did not.” You answered, emphasising the “not”.

Yeonjun laughed at your misery, opting you to throw a pillow at his face. The room had gone through its nth time of laughing fit before you all started to calm down.

As the room went down from its climax, Soobin’s question seemed to pique everyone's interest. “By the way if it’s okay to ask, how did you and heeseung hate each other like this? I mean the two of you never got along. Everyone knows that but like you both definitely seem more intense now like ever since you got offered to join the exchange student program.”

You sighed before answering. “Well it’s a long story but-”

“-I was supposed to get the offer to join the exchange student program.” Just a few meters from where you and your friend gathered, Heeseung and his friends were doing the exact same thing you were doing.

They all gathered on his mattress, sharing stories as the moon reaches its peak of serenity. “Ohh i get it, so from your point of view, it seemed as if she “stole” your future.” Jay nodded at his friend as the room was filled with collected hums and a few shocked faces.

“No lie I would’ve hated them too if someone did that to me.” Jake added, agreeing to his friend’s current situation."

Heeseung only shrugged and buried himself in the comfort of his pillows. “So what are you gonna do now, hyung?” The youngest of them questioned. “I don’t know. I mean there’s no point in defying my mom when she’s persistent. So I guess I’ll just go with it.”

“Do you still hate Yn because of it now? I mean it’s been six months.” Jungwon tilted his head, curious. “I…I don’t know. We’ve never gotten along since we were five so I don’t think our relationship changed a lot.” Heeseung raised himself from his pillows, now sitting upright.

“But it's not entirely her fault, is it? If you had been a better option for the program you would still be chosen regardless.” Jay knocked some sense into his friend.

“I guess I just blamed her for being better.” A strain smile settled on his lips.

“But to be honest I don’t really care about it anymore, you know? If i really did get that exchange student program, I would've missed so many moments with you guys, including how Niki literally got a girlfriend?? Earlier than me??” Their hearts warmed to Heeseung’s statement before laughing at his last.

The night on both sides of the window ended after crescent smiles and glee surrounding the atmosphere as the sun began to rise causing them to go to a much needed slumber.

“Hey, Noona. Looks like you're in a good mood.” You entered the shop with a smile as you greeted the smiling Sunoo. “Yes because you're the first person I see here, and not that brat.” You whispered the last part.

“Quite the charmer you are, Yn.” A familiar voice rang your eardrums. Speak of the devil. “Right, I was praying you would forget this whole thing and just go sulk in your room all summer.” You grumbled, not bothering to avert your gaze to align with your nemesis behind you.

You feel his presence drawing closer and closer before halting just a few inches from your back. Sunoo is long gone now, opting to prepare some stuff in the storage room.

“And make you look good, whereas I look like the rebel child? Keep dreaming, Kang.” He whispered, voice dripping with mirth.

You scoffed rolled your eyes in response, moving forward towards the register, leaving Heeseung to fend for himself at that moment.

This is going to be a long day.

One week has passed and you are now used to seeing Heeseung lurk around the area. Now that he’s already familiar with the register and serving people you have to go to the next step: teach him how to make dumplings.

At first, you were against the idea. But your mom insisted that Mrs.Lee wanted Heeseung to be more adapt than any other employee. Hence why he needed to master more than one skill to manage. So, you gave in.

Heeseung was ready to start his new routine. Coming to the shop everyday (excluding Sundays and Saturdays) at 8am and start preparing the register and other things before opening at 9am. He’ll be honest, the first few days, he was dreading it. But eventually, being surrounded with the busy yet calming atmosphere of the shop feels so comfortable? Or maybe because he was spending his summer productively.

But yesterday, Yn had messaged him to arrive at the shop an hour earlier than usual. Seven am?! That’s basically dawn in Summer! Heeseung dragged his feet towards the welcoming door, the sun greeted him with a morning glow as he slowly entered his demise.

“Morning, sunshine. Are you awake?” Sitting in one of the chairs, you chuckled, amused at his hunched silhouette.

“You’re crazy for forcing me to work this early on. This is basically child labor!” He sat opposing you, hands folded above the table as he buried his head in between his arms.

“Well your mother consented to this. Get up.” Your request was left hanging as Heeseung replied an audible “no”, prompting you to leave the boy behind.

Droplets of water trickled to the back of his neck, stirring him awake before he-hold on why was he wet? His fingers touched the source of coldness, his head jolted up meeting your gaze. ”You’re fucking crazy!”

“Thanks, baby. Awake now?” The smirk on your lips is evident and Heeseung swore that he was going to rip your face off.

“What are we doing?” Instead of answering, you hand a slightly-damp Heeseung an apron and ushered him to wash his hands before starting. “Just go wash your hands first.” He rolled his eyes before complying to your demands.

After finishing with such tasks he returned to his position beforehand. “All clean now.” He dangled his palms to align with your vision. Now that the two of you are clean it's time to start this mission. Wrapping dumplings.

Heeseung eyes lingered on the swift movement of your fingers. Quick hands easily wrap the ball of meat between a thin layer of dough. He shifted his attention elsewhere for a second and when he returned, you were already done with the process. The perfectly wrapped mandu sat in the heart of your palms, sitting proudly before him.

“That doesn’t look hard, let me do it.” The boy shrugged, earning an amused scoff from you. He took the initiative to try it for himself, but before he could reach the layers of thin dough, he felt a slight sting lingering on his arm. “Gosh! What was that for?!”

“Do you ever pay attention? Lace your hands with some flour before taking the dough so it’s not sticky, bambi.”

Bambi? Did you just refer to him as a Disney cartoon animal?! Well sucks to be you at least he was a Disney character. Not some meaningless being.

“Crazy bitch.”

“What did you say?!”

“I said I got the hitch!” Was hitch even a word? Probably. Or not. Heeseung grudgingly dipped his fingers into the bowl of flour before spreading a light amount in his palms. He then took a thin layer of dough and a little ball of minced meat mixed with onions and other dumpling stuffings(?). He placed the ball in the center of the surface before…before…uhm what was the next step again?

His hands froze mid air for a second. Should he ask for help? Oh and get roasted for not paying attention again? No thanks, his ego was too big for that. Right he’ll figure this out. This is Lee Heeseung we’re talking about. Lee Heeseung vs dumpling, let’s see who’ll win this game.

The tall boy recalled your hand movements, trying hard to remember the steps you did. Right it was uhm….take the left corner, then the right, unite them to the center? Yeah that right. Next is…squish the edges! He’s too smart and talented for this. Heeseung 1, dumpling 0.

The satisfied smile he wore was so apparent. The tips of his finger lightly pressed onto the dough in an attempt to link them together. Except it was not sticking. He kept on applying pressure, more and more as the seconds tick. Once he thought that it would hold, he settled the…ill-shaped dumpling on the table. With his hands on his hips, he turned to face your observing stance. Not bad for his first try. Or so he thought.

Five seconds of victory was cut short when the dumpling slowly–but surely–unwrapped itself from the shape Heeseung molded it to. Heeseung 0, dumpling 1.

The guise of his face showed it all–his mouth hung open, eyes deadpanning the dumpling like it was his sworn enemy–it was so hard not to erupt in laughter. You covered your mouth to contain your glee. This was too funny.

Your oddly timed coughing shifted Heeseung’s gaze to yours. At first the look in his eyes reeks of annoyance but the sound of your echoing laugh was enough to leave a ghost of a smile on his face. You didn’t get angry, that was a first.

Heeseung was shocked to see how calm you were after witnessing his failure. (except for the laughing part) “I would be a hypocrite if I got angry at you.” You started. “The first time mom taught me how to wrap these, I would always rip the dough.”

“Oh.”

“Right.” You cleared your throat. “Let me repeat the steps again, slowly this time.”

The clueless boy watched your movements distinctly. He noticed how eased you were as you did the task at hand, focused yet you were doing it so effortlessly. He also noticed how you poke your tongue slightly when your fingers pinched the perfectly folded dumplings’ little details, and the little specks of flour that landed on the tip of your nose. There was something about you today that he couldn’t ignore.

Heeseung looked at your current expression, and suddenly you both were five again. You were sitting in his living room with a crayon tucked in between your fingers, your tongue slightly stuck out as you avert your attention to your drawing as your mothers chatter dissipates in the back.

Twelve years have passed yet you still look the same to him. The first girl that entered his life other than his mother, the first girl he fought with, and the first girl he ever loved. Not that he was ever going to admit that. But perhaps just for today, he would forget your fuse with him and pretend that everything is okay

“That’s how you make a perfect dumpling.” The curve of your lips was so warm and inviting and he felt a suspiciously warm feeling slowly settling on his chest. Well that was new. Maybe because it was too early in the morning that’s why Heeseung felt so out of it today. “Ehem, okay. I should be able to do it now.”

“Mom, I’m back!” You enter the living room, goals set to lay comfortably down at the soft cushions of your couch. “In the kitchen, sweetie! Come Yn, Aunty Lee is here.”

The smell of homemade cooking dragged you to your mother. “Hi mom, hi Auntie Lee.” Eyes crinkled as you smiled widely at the two most important figures in your life.

“Hey, honey. Hope Hee hasn't given you a hard time.” Mrs. Lee softly smiled. “Do you really need to ask that to know, Auntie?” Your joke (not) prompts the two middle aged women to laugh. “Jokes aside, I guess he's tolerable when he shuts up.”

“Yn!”

“Kidding, mom!” Not really.

“Anyways, we owe you a shopping spree. Let's go this weekend. Your shift ends at noon right, darling? What do you say?” Your eyes lit up at the offer.

Who were you to refuse?

Smell of dumplings and busy chatters crowded the shop, sunlight beaming through glass tinted windows as customers took over the vacant seats available. “Here’s your freshly steamed mandu, Auntie Park.” Mrs. Park was a regular, don’t get me wrong, she was lovely, but she could be a little…nosy.

“You’ve gotten much more beautiful since coming home from Japan.” She smiled knowingly. “Tell me, have you found any Japanese boyfriend, dear?”

Your eyes widened–not expecting her direct question. “ I can assure you, auntie. No boyfriends here.” The curve of your mouth formed upwards. “Is that so?” She squinted her eyes in suspicion, eyes darting to follow Heeseung’s moving figure a few feet away. “I see that Ha-eun’s boy is here helping. Is that one your boyfriend?”

Heeseung? You boyfriend? You grimaced at the thought. You would rather eat a raw dumpling.

“Oh auntie, literally anyone but him. Besides, I’m too busy studying and helping with the shop while dad is busy planning on opening other branches.” You chuckled, denying her assumption.

“What a perfect daughter you are! I bet Ha-yoon and Ji-woo are proud to have you as their daughter.” You were about to leave before hearing her continue. “You know, I have a son your age. You should know him, he goes to Decelis too. Park Jeongsong, are you familiar? Maybe I should set you guys up.”

She lifted her point finger to her chin. “I think you guys are compatible, he's mature….”

Park Jeongsong. Of course you were familiar. He’s one of Heeseung’s close friends and the only one that you tolerate. To be honest you were quite tempted at her offer. Jay’s got it all. Perfect looks, ridiculously sharp jawline, and most importantly manners (one that Heeseung lacked for sure). You scoffed mentally at the thought. But unfortunately, you were not looking for anyone to date for the time being.

“I’m sure he’s great, auntie. I’m just focusing on myself right now.” You politely turned her down. “Enjoy your dumplings, please tell me if you need any assistance.”

“Yes, thank you dear. I hope I wasn’t being too nosy. I’m still working on that.”

“Don’t worry about it, auntie.”

Mrs. Lee and your mother promised to pick you up right after your shift ends. It’s been two weeks since Heeseung’s arrival and you notice that he’s becoming accustomed to the work before him. Given so, this was your first time leaving him alone in the shop. Even though there were other workers, you still hadn’t completely trusted the boy.

“Double check the orders, got it.”

“-And shut the blinds when closing.” He repeated after you.

“Honestly, why are you so anxious? I’m not going to bomb this place when you leave, Yn.” Heeseung crossed his arms. “Don’t trust me enough, flower?” His glint is mischievous, teasing apparent in his tone.

“First of all, don’t call me that.” You shudder at the nickname. “Second of all, no I don’t trust you. What if this place turns to ashes when I return.”

“Okay, flower.” He was playing with you, you knew that. “I’m not even in charge of the kitchens, I promise I won’t blow this place down.”

“Hmm, okay.” Your pupils shifted left and right–as if you were looking for someone. “Sunoo, watch over him for me when I’m gone.” You untie your apron from the nape of your neck before nearing the exit earning a nod from the young boy.

The shopping spree was fruitful, they really went all out on this one. Insisting on buying you dresses, cute tops, pants, shoes, as well as a few accessories. You were grateful–of course–but you would be lying if you said it wasn’t tiring. Though as tiring as it can be, you were having fun.

You entered your house with shopping bags occupying your upper limbs, the weight heavy on your arms. Your mother had a few of her own too and you wonder how she was carrying them with grace. You both dropped the bags on the floor before entering the empty living room. “Huh, I guess Tae and your father have gone to sleep.”

To be honest, any sane person would. It was almost twilight. The three of you found a night market on your way back, compelled by the mannequins and price tags, the two women dragged you out of the car to have a look around.

“So, Yn, now that we’re alone.” Your mother settled on the couch. “Tell me-”

“-how’s everything going on in the shop?” Lee Hae-in met her son still sitting in the lounge room upon her return, his eyes glued to the show on tv. But now, the dark screen reflected two figures sitting on the cushions, a mother with the son she grounded.

“It’s not that bad, I guess.” Heeseung started. “At first it was-”

“-dreadful. I hated mentoring him. He did everything wrong and would make annoying expressions everytime I corrected him. I felt like I wanted to pull his hair out!” Your hands went up to your head in frustration triggering a laugh from your mom.

“Is that so? Now that we’re basically halfway there,-

“-How do you think about her now? About all this, I mean.” The Lee woman questioned, ears perked as she listened contently to her son before her. “Uhm, I guess we’re getting along more? I mean we don’t fight that often anymore. A few insults are thrown now and then but that’s just how we always are at each other.”

“That’s good to hear.” A satisfied smile graced the older Lee. “How about the shop? Are you doing your tasks well, dear?”

“Yeah, I think I’m getting the hang of it now.”

The two older women were happy at their children’s answers. Just two more weeks or so and maybe just maybe this will mark the end of awkward dinners and uneasy tension.

“Heeseung, honey, I know you were upset with Yn after she won the exchange program instead of you. However, you’re almost an adult now. I think this is bothering her as well, why don’t you two take some time to talk about it?”

Heeseung pondered before answering his mother. Even though the tension has resided between you two for the time being, it was mostly due to professionalism to maintain poise in front of other employees and customers. If he wanted this to remain forever (or at least longer than the summer break) he would have to clear the air.

“I’ll think about it, mom.”

“Heeseug, I told you to be gentle with that!”

“Yn, I’m doing it exactly like what you told me!”

Shuffling noise and exclamation marks were the first thing Taehyun heard as he entered the shop at the break of dawn. “Gosh it's six am, they better not be fucking.” He grumbled under his breath before going into the kitchen.

“What are you guys doing?” Body leaned at the doorway, Kang Taehyun watched his hyung and noona–who claimed they hated each other–wrapping dumplings (more like wrapping each other) in a very close proximity.

Ha! Two weeks in, and they’re already getting closer. He was right. Now mom and Auntie Lee owe him so much cash for this.

You were quick to add some space in between you. The blood rushed to your face resulting to a pinkish hue. “We’re just preparing the mandus for today.”

“Riight. I’ll be at the register if you need me. Which you probably won’t.” He turned his back from the seniors behind him, the smirk on his face widened as he imagined how much money he’ll receive upon winning the bet with his mom and Heeseung’s.

flashback (few weeks ago)

Rays of sunlight occupied each corner of the living room as the songbird sang its morning praises. It was a perfect day to relax. Lee Hae-in and Kang Ha-yoon sat amidst thick cushions as they waited for their steamed milk buns to cook.

“You know, that was cheeky of you when you suggested this summer activity for Heeseung.” Ha-yoon started earning a light giggle from her dearest friend. “I have the biggest opportunity laid bare in front of me! I couldn't resist even if I could help it.”

“How long will it take for them to warm up to each other?”

“Two weeks.”

A familiar voice urged them to snap their heads in its direction, only to find the youngest Kang standing with his hand crossed over his chest.

“How are you so sure, Taehyunnie?” His mother questioned. The Lee woman also looked reluctant. “They've been hating each other for years, Tae. I don't think they will get along in two weeks.”

“Are you willing to bet on it, Auntie Lee, Mom?” His challenging tone was inviting. Who were they to deny a bet? Without a second doubt, the two women nodded their heads and smirked. “You're so on.”

With a final click!, the shop was officially closed for the day. Heeseung handed the key to you before taking something from his bag. “Yn, hold on.” His hand is placed on your shoulder, urging you to turn towards his direction.

“Hm? What’s wrong? You tilted your head, confusion written all over your face. The boy released the light grip he had on you before lifting up his free hand and unfolding his wrapped fingers.

A gasp escaped your lips at the item he held before you. There it was, a small lego figurine sitting on the center of his palm. And it was not just any figurine, but it was your favorite back when you were five. Your eyes wander into his own, the small smile adorning his face along with the swirl of emotion pooling in his vision.

You remember the day you lost it. How the world seemed to crumple beneath your feet as you lost–no–Heeseung stole the main character of your ultimate favourite lego friends set.

“Missed her?” He nudged the figurine towards you, a sign for you to take it and you did just so. “So you did steal her, huh. You denied it so much back then, I still remember.” You bite your lip in effort to suppress the curve that was slowly creeping in, but seemingly failed as you examined the small toy in your hands.

The plastic was old and details were worn out due to aging but aside from that, all the parts remained intact and well kept. Heeseung did not break it nor ruined it like you thought he would. Instead he took great care of it. Why?

“I recall, it was the first time we met. We were at my housewarming party and I really wanted you to play with me and Tae, but you didn’t.” The raven haired boy reminisced, the smile still etched on his face. “You kept playing with this lego set without any bother in the world. I really wanted to play with you but all you do is ignore me.”

“So you stole the figurine to get my attention?” You raised your left eyebrow, an attempt to guess where he was going. A small chuckle rang through your ears. “Well, it worked I guess but not in the way that I hoped. After that I just–I don’t know–kept annoying you because that’s the only way you’ll ever pay attention.”

His words settled heavily on your heart. All this time, your feud growing up was just a matter of attention. Guilt crawled from the depths, slowly leaking through your eyes. Heeseung was quick to notice. “Yn, that was so long ago, no need to be guilty.” His hands went back to your shoulders. Somehow, the warmth radiating from him felt nice–comforting.

“We could’ve been those childhood friends.” You whispered, rewriting memories inside your head. Echoing a “what if” scenario if you got along from the beginning.

“We could be now, if you want.” Dozens of stars are reflected in the dark pupils of Heeseung’s doe eyes and you can’t bring yourself to look away, not even if you tried. Your gaze shifted to his lingering hand on your scapula before urging closer in his embrace. Arms wrapped itself around his body, your movement slow and careful, giving him space to walk away. But he didn’t. He enveloped you further into himself. Your face is pressed against his chest, eyes closed. No words are spoken but the gesture speaks volumes.

“I’m sorry, Yn.” Heeseung broke the silence between you. “For everything I did to you since we were five.” He whispered, fingers trailing the strands of your hair. “And more importantly, for taking out my anger on you when you got accepted to the exchange program instead of me.”

“I’m sorry too.” You replied, head turning up to meet his waiting gaze. “I joined the program to spite you. Didn’t think I would get it, but I somehow did and made everything worse.” You unwrap each other from the embrace, solemn looks embroidered on your faces. A gulf of harsh wind swept through you, your body shivered slightly at the impact, instantly missing the warmth from the previous action.

“You deserve it, Yn. I was jealous, I could admit that now. If I had been the better choice, I would still be chosen regardless.”

“Oh, Heeseung.” Your frown is evident, denting your features and the boy before you feels the urge to wipe it off so badly as if it had no right to tarnish your perfect face.

“It's all in the past now, flower. We're good now, right?” Heeseung smiled and after, you feel a hand slip itself into your own, relinquishing the comfort from the hug. You looked at your entwined hands before offering a small nod.

“It’s getting late. Let's walk home together, yeah?”

A week has gone by in a blur of routine. Summer break is ending and no amount of complaints is going to stop the time from running. Heeseung now stands right in front of your door, heart palpitating and hands sweaty. It's been 5 minutes now and he's still contemplating whether he should knock on your door or just leave at this point.

After that night, your relationship with him began to shift. As you arrive at your designated homes, you two meet again across the windows of your rooms. Exchanging waves and passing short notes through the glass barrier before bidding good night. It was like straight out of a Taylor Swift music video.

Heeseung caught a smile corrupting his features before closing his mouth in shock. Did he just smile at the memory of you?? What. The. Fuck. He shook his head abruptly from side to side, almost as if he had a goal to remove something from his mind.

Just as he was doing so, the door suddenly swung open. “Heeseung?” A voice called out, confusion lacing her tone. “Auntie Kang, Hi!” The boy offered a flashy smile, almost blinding the middle aged woman. “What are you doing here, Hee?” The woman smiled at the sight of him and raised her eyebrow in amusement at his…enthusiasm?

Heeseung was happy in the early morning. This was a first.

“Are you okay? Why do you seem so happy? Too happy maybe.” Her eyes squinted in suspicion. “Whaaat? Nothing, Auntie! Just excited because dad said I could use his motorcycle today.”

Your mother hummed in understanding. Muttering how kids these days are so funny before asking the bambi-eyed boy, “What are you doing here thou-”

“Hee, you're here!” An excited voice called out, prompting the two figures on the doorway to look your way.

So this is what it's about. Mrs.Kang bit her bottom lip to contain the smile from seeping through. Noting the interaction in her mind to tell Heeseung’s mother for their planned brunch in a few hours.

Your mother wasn't oblivious, something clearly changed between you too. Gone were the two kids that used to chase each other in the courtyard, sabotaging each other’s items for revenge. You’re all grown up now and Kang Hayoon almost felt a tear drop from her left eye.

Call her dramatic but hey, Heeseung is as much like her child as you are. Just like you are a daughter to the Lees. And these two children used to be muttering curse words why chasing each other.

Kang Hayoon felt a wave of surging proudness. While your father is busy taking care of building another branch for the restaurant, you offered to manage the current one for the summer so your mom could rest. Even with your position as Heeseung’s mentor, you still insist doing so with the excuse that Heeseung is already well adapted with everything now.

You reached the door, giving your mom a quick kiss on the cheek and a goodbye before leaving with the boy. “Bye mom, it’s almost eight. We’re going to the restaurant now!” You greeted her from the motorcycle seat. “Bye, Auntie! We’ll be careful, don't worry!” He smiled once more and with a final wave, the two sped away from the driveway leaving the smiling woman on her porch.

“Hae-in needs to hear about this.” Your mother giggled before calling Heeseung’s mom on dial and closing the door as she decided that she could not wait for brunch to tell her.

To say Sunoo was shocked was an understatement. He stood behind the register, preparing the cash for change as he was met with his boss (you) and the intern (heeseung) got out of a motorbike together. His eyes were like saucers and his jaw was wide open. He’s so used to seeing you both fight in the mornings that it felt so…weird seeing the two of you all smiley.

“Fuck, I owe Taehyun 5 bucks now.” He whispered lowly, silently cursing at the bet he lost. The boy smiled and greeted you as well as Heeseung before returning to his current task, not forgetting to make those classic Sunoo bewildered faces behind the register and away from your prying eyes.

Taehyun arrives later with some special premade dumplings made by your mother. Passing by Sunoo as he received the cash with a swift motion in triumph. You and Heeseung are both too easy. He thought, suppressing the singular curve forming on his lips.

The restaurant thrives under your management. You silently thank your dad for teaching you these skills since you were little. Heeseung is currently working as a waiter (because you think he is still wonky at wrapping dumplings), busy tending to curious aunties with his charm. After your little heart to heart, you start to see him in a different light. The way his smile deepens as he is asked about his interests, the politeness seeping through his crinkled eyes when he excused himself and moved closer to you-wait what??

“You think I wouldn't notice you staring, flower?” You grimaced at the decor beside you, finding any mistake palpable in your surroundings, and ignoring the way your stomach fluttered at the nickname he just called you. Heeseung chuckled at your antics, finding you adorable.

“Staring? Hah! You’re so full of yourself, Heeseung.” Your false laughter echoed through the restaurant, turning a few heads from other workers before you threw them a glare to go back to work. “That was Jay and Jake’s moms. They were wondering how I’m doing.” You scrunch your eyebrows at his explanation. “Okay? I didn’t ask what you were doing, Lee.”

“Back to last name basis? You wound me, baby.” The bambi-eyed boy placed his hand on his chest, feigning a hurt look on his face. You rolled your eyes at him (and that ridiculous petname) before shoving him lightly. “Go back to work, employee.”

“On it, boss.” He replied, not forgetting to throw a wink at you before opting back to work. Fuck, what was he doing to you?

You’re pacing back and forth across your room, hands on your hips, and hair all disheveled. Chaewon laid comfortable on your mattress, elbows supporting her upper body as she watched your distressed state with amusement. “Yn, you’re going crazy.”

Tonight was an overdue girls night, meaning Chae is over at your house for the weekend. This day also marks the second last week of summer. That means one more week ‘till you are back to textbooks and exams. You groaned at the thought (and at Chaewon) before inching towards the window. Your eyes subconsciously reached the house across yours, revealing your beloved neighbor–shirtless–his ridiculously sculpted figure standing there on the other side of his window for the whole world (you) to see as he held what looked like shirts on his left hand and his phone on the right pressed on his ear as if he was calling someone.

“Uhm Yn, you’re gawking.” Your best friend peered behind you. Her hands on your shoulders as she took a peek of the sight before you. You hurriedly closed the blinds in reflex. “Damn okay, you don’t want me looking at your man. I’ll be respectful.” A sheepish smile kissed Chaewon’s face before turning her back on you and jumping back into bed.

“Chae, something is wrong with me.” You fall face flat to your bed, right beside your girlfriend. “Everytime I see him, I feel this weird feeling in my chest–and no it’s not the urge to pull out his hair.” You murmured, flipping your body to align with the ceiling before continuing. “Which is really weird because I used to always feel that way.” You pointed out, index finger up to enhance your stance. “But now everytime I see his face I just want to-want to-”

“Kiss him?” Chaewon’s smirk is glowing in her features, fully dripping with mischief. You sat up at her reply before turning your head towards your best friend, your expression shaped in disbelief. “Chaewon, what the hell.” You grab your nearest plushie–one that you stole from Taehyun’s best friend, HeuningKai–before (affectionately) beating the brown-eyed girl with it.

The sound of laughter filled the room like oxygen. “Yn, you can hit me all you want but you can’t deny it.” The raven haired girl said between her fits of giggle. “After that little apology session, you just want to kiss him pretty.” The wiggle of Chae’s brows urged you to throw the plushie right at her face. Your friend groaned at the impact before recovering as if it was nothing.

Suddenly, everything comes crashing down like an airplane with a failing engine. You paused abruptly, a huge thought bubble forming above your head. Fuck did you like him? Like, like–like him?? No, you can’t. You can’t be catching feelings with the boy you just made amends with a week ago. The boy you swore to hate since you were toddlers.

Chaewon read the expression on your face like an openbook before opting to sit across from you. “Yn, for what’s worth, he’s a really nice person. And he’s practically already family.” Her hands made their way to your shoulders. The feeling is familiar but different. Chaewon’s arms are lighter and more poised in contrast to Heeseung’s warm touch. Your head darted to your covered window, curiosity pooling in your heart at what he was doing and what he would think of this–of you.

“Imagine telling your family that you and Heeseung are a thing.” Your best friend started. “Auntie Lee and Auntie Kang are going to start jumping in glee and start preparing for your wedding with an eight week honeymoon plan to the Bahamas.” You rolled your eyes at Chae’s daydream. Though deep down, your heart swelled at the thought, offering a silent prayer as hope for the future.

“Ever since that day, he’s been, I don’t know, different.” Distress is evident in your sigh, storms of doubt clouding your thoughts. “Maybe I’m getting attached to him, I’m not sure. Maybe I’m spending too much time with that guy.” You place two hands on Chaewon’s shoulders before shaking her. “Chae, baby, loml, cleanse me, like right now.” Chaewon nodded at the request like a diligent soldier before shaking you with much more intensity.

“All cleansed now?” She asked, before stopping the vast movement. Your head is spinning, figuratively and literally, and you raised both of your thumbs toward the raven haired girl. “Fuck, I like him. I like Lee Heeseung.” You confessed against a pillow you found beside you, banging your head at the soft cushion before muffling your exasperated scream as Chaewon sat behind and patted your back in reassurance.

What a way to start girls' night.

Heeseung thinks you’re acting weird. You’ve been avoiding him lately–more than usual. Was it because he’s not improving with his dumpling wrapping skills? Or was it because that stunt Jake convinced him to pull, ending with him shirtless before his opened window across your own as he pretended to call someone, looking all important, while it was Jake on the other end, fully assuring him that this plan is foolproof. That it will make you go all drooling on him and finally fall in love.

The bambi-eyed boy mentally cursed at Jake. His plan definitely made you think Heeseung was some weirdo. Fuck, he just ruined all his chances with you and it’s all because of that stupid Austrilian.

Heeseung came true to his feelings one random night in the middle of a night ride with you. You both just finished closing up the shop, bidding farewell to your other workers before logging off for the night.

The boy noticed your tired demeanor, immediately slipping your hand in his before leading you to his bike. “What's the hurry, Hee?” You giggled softly at his antics, the sound speeding his drumming heart ever so slightly.

“Come on, I wanna show you something,” He unclasped your joint hand, and the warmth soon returned as he fixed your helmet on your head before adjusting his own.

Heeseung drives at a medium pace. Not too slow to bore you but also not too fast to risk your lives. The bambi-eyed boy passed your houses, earning a curious look from you. You watch as you exit the suburbs to a little road near the highway. The view from above was breathtaking, city lights cover the vast land like pieces of your lego city collection. You gasped at the beauty ahead of you. The dark haired boy stopped at the hook of the road, taking off his helmet and yours as his steps started inching towards the railings of the empty road.

You follow closely behind, basking on the beauty of the night. The city is still lively–it always is. A contrast to the sleeping stars that hung on the horizon, blinking in haze as humans are left to wonder from below.

Your hand is placed beside his on the railing. Gentle wind kissed the tip of your nose with grace, prompting you to close your eyes to enjoy the serene moment. “This is nice.” You whispered, releasing all the stress harboring on your shoulders and Heeseung hummed in agreement, his head turning in your direction.

The boy watched the sight before him with much intent. His focus shifted to the details of your skin, blurring the busy city’s whispers. Remnants of neon lights were reflected on your face below the moonlight. He noticed your lids fluttering before gazing at the stars above. “What a pretty view.”

Heeseung’s eyes remained on you, the city and sky distorted as he pinned his vision on you. “Yeah, it’s breathtaking.”

The two of you went home in comfortable silence. Your head slowly drowsing on his back before you fix your position to sit upright. Heeseung chuckled at your sleepy state before muttering, “You can sleep, flower. We’ll be home in no time.” His tone is soft on your ears and you hummed at him–too sleepy to voice a proper reply. And before you know it, two arms wrapped itself around Heeseung’s waist, prompting his heart to stop for a second before running at a faster pace. You settle comfortably behind him, your cheek pressed on his back as he drives with such carefulness and grace to your homes.

After returning to his own room, we wasted no time to call his closest friends, confiding to them about his newfound realization. He was in love with you, so badly.

Today was the day. The day where Heeseung is going to confront you. He’s tired of having to walk around eggshells around you, he wants to make things right, clear out any misunderstandings (and maybe confess if it all goes right). You texted him yesterday that you won't be needing a ride from him as you had to tend to other matters earlier than usual. As much as it disappointed him, he had no choice but to comply, not wanting to push past the boundaries you built.

Heeseung arrived at the restaurant much earlier than usual. He glanced at his watch, the time read 7:30. Seven fucking thirty. Gosh it was dawn for holiday mood Heeseung (even though it was 30 minutes earlier than his usual routine, BUT that was 30 minutes of sleeping wasted) The things he’d do for you. The boy sighed, fumbling with a copy of the key you gave him before.

He inserted the key towards the hole, turning it to the left in an attempt to unlock the door but failed in doing so. Heeseung paused before examining the handle, confusion glazing his features as his hand grabbed the knob before slowly pulling it down and opening the door with success.

What? Did you forget to lock the door before closing yesterday? No, he was sure you didn't. You were never that irresponsible. In fact you were probably never irresponsible at all. Did someone break in? There were no signs of force breaking in so that was not possible.

An echo of laughter rang through his ears, stopping Heeseung from his tracks. He peered his eyes at the sound that seemed to be coming from the kitchen. Slowly, the boy made his way towards the source, curiosity tugging his heart.

The kitchen light was on and through the window, Heeseung could perfectly see two people standing at the dumpling-making-table-thingy. His eyes widened at the revelation, there was you talking to another man beside you. He's seen him before, but he just can't quite place who. It’s one of those boys you hang around with. Soobin and Yeongjum? Whatever it was.

The boy squinted his eyes, trying to make out who exactly was this person beside you. A distraction to suppress the gnawing feeling pooling in his chest as another line of laughter escaped your lips.

His heart ached when your laugh settled on his mind. A pang of jealousy hit him across the face. You never laughed that much with him. Well maybe it was due to your past rivalry, but it's all gone now, right?

Well maybe he was wrong because your words proved him otherwise.

“By the way, Yn.” The man before you called out, prompting you to hum in reply. “How's everything, you know? With the Heeseung thing and all.”

“It's been really tiring. With school coming soon and everything, ugh.” You sighed, the crease in your eyebrows deepening and Heeseung felt the urge to kiss it away. Though he grounded himself at his position, still behind the walls as he listened to your conversation.

“I’ve been avoiding him lately, Junnie.” His ear perked up at your confession, subconsciously leaning in to hear you more clearly. Ah yeah, Yeonjun. That was his name.

“Why?” Yeonjun asked, confusion wrapping his tone as his hands skillfully wrapped the dumpling before him. Your lack of answer shifted Heeseung's focus to the ridiculously perfect dumpling sitting proudly on Yeonjun’s hand and how quickly he moves on to the next one, wrapping with such professionalism as if he's been folding dumplings since he was born.

Heeseung’s annoyance was cut short as he heard your answer. “I don't know. I just…don't want him to get the wrong idea.” Your voice is small, barely heard, but Heeseung could hear the words clearly.

You didn't want him to get the wrong idea. That was it, that was basically a rejection. You don't feel the same. The bambi eyed boy felt his heart sinking in his chest. The same organ weighs fifty thousand pounds heavier than it usually was, dragging him down with it.

“Anyway, you're driving to the concert, right?” You questioned, tone picking up ever so slightly.

Heeseung furrowed his eyebrows. Concert?

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” He heard Yeonjun reply. “You've worked so hard to earn these tickets, we’ll have the best time there together, Ynnie.”

The boy behind the kitchen window resisted the urge to scoff. So that's it? You agreed to mentor him for a stupid concert date? Jealousy was a drug and Heeseung dwelled in it with no hesitation. He ignored the way his heart clenched at the thought of losing you. Well, you were never his in the first place.

They boy left the restaurant in the same manner he went in but with more passive aggression. Taking the keys with him before driving off back to his house. Fuck this stupid mentoring shit and Fuck these stupid frelings.

You remained unaware of the tragedy that happened outside as you continued to focus on preparing the delicacy. “Yn, you have to tell him.” Yeonjun’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You still, knowing exactly what he meant, while hands are still moving–folding the dough as if it ran an automatic program. “I don't know, Junnie. What if he doesn't reciprocate my feelings?”

“He would be stupid not to.”

Yeonjun was right, you had to be true to your feelings. Your friend left after he finished helping you with the dumplings, leaving you alone amidst your thoughts as the workers arrived one by one. You watch by the front door carefully, eyes focused to find a certain bambi-eyed boy. Concern clouded your mind, the clock strikes nine and Heeseung has yet to make his appearance.

This was weird, he was never late (save the first day). Well maybe because you’ve been going here together for the past few days, but he was never late even at the beginning. Did something happen to him? “Sunoo, have you seen Heeseung?” You turned your head towards Sunoo behind the register, eyebrows furrowed in question. The boy shook his head in response and you ignored the way your heart sank.

You grab your phone from your pocket, muscle memory automatically hovering towards his contact. These past few days you and Heeseung’s been texting more often, and though you hate to admit it, the feeling made you giddy to the heart. Your fingers typed on the keypad in a swift move, texting a quick “where r u it’s late” and a “r u okay?” right after.

The boy in question was laid in his bed. Back against the mattress as he wallows in heartbreak songs all morning. The ping from his phone urged him to open the screen, his chest heaved heavily upon seeing your messages. Why do you care? He scoffed after reading the message mentally. Just let that Yeonjun replace him or something. Heeseung suppressed his impulsive thought to type that in and settled with a lame excuse instead. “not feeling well, won’t come today. sry." Before turning up the volume as Mr. Loverman comes to play.

You frowned at his reply, a worried expression taking over your features. “oh no :( get well soon hee.” Your fingers moved before you could control them. “rest up. I’ll come over after my shift.”

Heeseung widened his eyes as he read your reply, clearly not expecting your last statement. He quickly sat up, thinking of yet another lame excuse to avoid you seeing him. Fuck this was bad, his plan surely backfired on him. “U CANT! Uhm it’s infectious, don’t come near me or u’ll get sick.”

Infectious? What? Is Heeseung okay? You spent the whole week maybe even month with him lately, and whatever it is he caught, there’s probably a big change you’ve caught it too. “Did u get covid or smthn?” You typed in, concerned for yourself too slowly creeping in. It’s been years since the pandemic, you were even surprised it was still a thing. “does it mean I cld have it too? Shld i get tested? Yk what imma get tested rn.”

“It’s not covid!” His reply made you pause on your tracks. “It’s nthn srs, u don’t have to come. Js focus on the shop.”

“Will u return tmrw?” You questioned, no effort in containing your curiosity. “Idk, we’ll see.”

Yeah right, “we’ll see.” Heeseeung scoffed at his own text. He’ll see if he recovered from heartbreak enough to be able to see your stupidly beautiful face. The boy locked his phone before opting to throw it to his bed as he continued to blast to a thousand more sad songs. Fuck you and your perfect self. Why don’t you just go take care of Yeonjun when he’s sick of something.

Friday comes in a flash. The sun has set twice since Heeseung’s disappearance and he thinks two days are enough time to sulk and return to his current summer disposition. It was his last day here anyways. After this, school will return and you both will just pretend the other doesn't exist as usual.

He makes his way past the front doors, mind unfocused as he ventures inside the restaurant. His tired eyes met yours, and for one second Heeseung forgets everything he eavesdropped that morning. “Heeseung.” You called out, surprise laced on your tone, clearly not expecting his return after disappearing from the face of earth. The boy resisted the desire in his heart to just run and hug you until you suffocate. But the remnants of your voice that haunted him till this day pulled him back. “I’ve been avoiding him, Junnie. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.”

Right, you don’t like him that way. He has to remind himself of that and drill it onto his brain. “Heeseung?” You draw closer at his silence. Your hand slowly made its way to his arm, touching the skin slightly before the boy nudged back, avoiding your grasp.

Oh.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine, whatever. I’ll just go to work now.”

You don’t know what’s going on, you don’t know what’s wrong. His tone is indifferent, cold, and weaved with a harsh emotion you can’t quite place. The boy passed by you, accidentally bumping your shoulder before starting his usual routine. You could almost hear your heart breaking in your chest, the feeling dragging you down as rain started to pour, the clouds diminishing the ray of sunlight left in your eyes and the sky.

The rest of the day is filled with awkward tension and forced professionalism. Heeseung is aware of his status in the restaurant so he maintained his poise. Though he can’t help but steal glances of you, managing the schedule and tending the customers with such light in your eyes, contrast to his gloomy vision. The pain in his heart is subduable but he hates it. It was stupid of him to fall for you in the first place. You were always there, not even 200 meters away from him everyday, yet why do you still remain so out of reach?

Yellow hue dissipates into serene blue, the stars finally waking up to light the dark night. Heeseung waits behind, leaning on his motorcycle as you close up for the day. This was it, his last shift and probably his last one-on-one interaction with you.

As much as Heeseung wants to avoid you right now, he doesn’t have the heart to make you walk back alone. After all the past two days has been enough.

The ride back home was quiet, awkward silence cut through the tension like knife slicing though a piece of room temperature butter. The boy stops in front of your driveway, waiting for you to remove your helmet before parking the bike in his garage.

“Thank you.” Your whisper graced his ear, your gaze finding him like a pirate longing for her lost treasure. “For the ride…and for everything.” Was what you said before turning your back on him and reaching towards your front door.

Heeseung was quick to return home, not forgetting to wipe the strain tear that escaped his right eye as he reached the comfort of his room. Gosh was he stupid.

“Babe, do you think Hoshi is going to notice me if I use this top or the other?” Chaewon stands in front of the full length mirror, opting two tops each on her left and right hand. The question rang pass through your ears, your focus all poured towards your window, gaze stuck on the glass panels across your own, his midnight blue curtains covering the interior, screaming at you like it held a “MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS” sign right on your face.

Your best friend turned her head towards you at your lack of reply, eyebrows furrowed as she noticed your current predicament. She was quick to move towards your window and closed the blinds, bursting the rain cloud forming above your head. “Yn, spill the beans.” Chaewon’s voice is serious and compelling, and just like that, words start spilling from your mouth. You told how gentle and considerate he’s become for the past week, the occasional night rides, the conversation that continued till midnight, the little notes you passed from your window, and the fact that he suddenly started to act cold and weird on you since Wednesday.

Chaewon listened with much intent, her hands moved quickly to wipe your damp cheeks as the tears fell without any warning. Well good thing you haven’t started your makeup. “You have to talk to him, baby.” She started, hands gentle on the crown of your head. “I’m going to beat him up for making you cry.” She whispered lowly, triggering a chuckle from your throat.

“How? All he does is avoid me. I don’t even know what I did wrong.”

The raven-haired girl hummed in response, the gears of her brain spinning. “Don't your families have a joint dinner together every last Sunday of the month?” You nodded slowly at her question, mind deliberately following where she was going. “That’s tomorrow, you’ll talk to him then. Steal him away after dinner or something.” She lifted up her arms to your shoulders before shaking them hard. “Let me cleanse you. For now, let's have fun, look at hot men dancing and doing fanservice. Forget ALL the drama.”

A chuckle escaped your lips as the light made its way back to your eyes. She’s right. Today you’re going to forget about Heeseung and that stupidly pretty face of his. Tonight you’re going to go to that SEVENTEEN concert and occupy your mind with Joshua Hong.

Family dinner is awkward as usual. Well for you and Heeseung, not for your parents and brother. Taehyun talking about something with your parents as you sat across the boy that’s been avoiding you. You dismissed the desire to look at his face because right now you are stuck in a perplexity. You don’t know if you want to punch him or you want to kiss him. Well you do know that you want to do it hard, either of the options doesn’t matter.

Your mothers left the dining room to prepare dessert and Heeseung excused himself to go to take something from his room. You took this as an opportunity, muttering “I need to go to the bathroom real quick.” before exiting the space to follow after him. Missing the way Taehun spoke to your dad and Heeseung’s. “50 bucks say that they’ll make out in his room.”

You sped towards the hall, taking his hand as you pulled him into his chambers. The bambi eyed boy felt like an intruder at his own living quarters, his eyes widened in shock, not expecting your actions. “Heeseung, let’s talk.” You start, voice sturdy and serious, cornering the boy before you with an arm beside his shoulder to block any escape route, his back pressing against the wooden door.

“What…what do you mean? Th-there’s nothing to talk about.” The boy grumbled, trying his best to not fluster under your gaze. Gosh why were you so close? Heeseung’s breath became shallow and quicker, the tips of his ears morphed into a crimson shade as he noticed your proximity.

Your eyes squinted at his sheepish reply. “Don’t act stupid, Lee. You’ve been avoiding me all of a sudden with like absolutely no reason!” A polished finger made its way to the dark-haired boy’s chest before he felt a light pressure at the contact. “You disappeared from the shop for two days–you’re welcome by the way for not telling our parents–and started acting like I don’t deserve your time or something.” You shove repeatedly at the same point, frustration swallowing you entirely and Heeseung? He just braced the impact like it was nothing to him.

Heeseung stilled as he waited for you to calm yourself, his gaze tenderly settled on you, in contrast to the emergency sirens that’s swarming his head like a busy ER hospital. Fuck, what was he gonna tell you? That he overheard you and Yeonjun and that he avoided you because he can’t handle a little jealousy and perhaps competition? Were you and Yeonjun even a thing? His mind is in scrambles and he can’t seem to get anything out.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to hurt you like that.” You peer towards the floorboards, features flushing scarlet as guilt wraps the previous emotion away. Your finger is still on his chest and before you can lower it down, a warm hand enveloped your knuckles. Chocolate colored iris melt into your own letting a thousand emotions seeping through like an overflowing glass of water akin to an eternal fountain. “Yn, let me explain everything.”

So he did and you let him. Heart echoing in sync against your ribcage, his hand not leaving yours anytime soon as he rubs soft circles. You almost melt in his touch. Keyword: almost. Gosh Yn were you that touch starved? Or did you really miss him that badly?

“I overheard your conversation with Yeonjun last Wednesday morning.” He confessed, thumb caressing your skin in a gentle motion. You can hear the gears of your brain spinning before wondering, “Last Wednesday…Yeonjun…What? It was like half past seven, how were you there? You said you were sick.”

“Yeah, let me continue first.” You nodded at his statement. “I wanted to, uhm I don’t know, like surprise you by going there early?” Heeseung paused, silently questioning his past self. “Oh, I also got curious why you didn’t want to ride together that morning.” The boy spontaneously added. “First when I entered I was confused why was the door unlocked but then I heard laughs–your laugh from the inside and I guess I wanted to know who made you laugh like that.”

You soaked his words like a sponge’s first contact with running water. The pattern of his thumb movements is still softly caressing your epidermis, offering you a peace of mind as you sink in his explanation. “Then I saw you with Yeonjun all comfortable and I got jealous. I realise you never smiled at me like that or laughed that much with me around. I got so jealous that I just couldn’t see you or I’ll burst in frustration.”

He stopped stroking your palm and instead squeezed it firmly before fidgeting it with both hands. “I also heard about the concert date. So I found out you mentored me for a month to get a concert date with another man. He must be pretty special, huh.” His movements went to halt and you hate how your heart seemed to ache for more–more of his touch.

“Yeonjun and I are just friends.” Your whisper is gentle upon his ears, the implication of another statement relieved his whole body. You’re still single. “He was helping out because he lost a bet and well he was damn good at wrapping dumplings too.” You chuckled, mind drifting to that particular moment and as if on cue, Junnie’s wise words echoed through your mind. You have to tell him how you feel, Yn.

“Yn I-”

“Heeseung-”

You both started simultaneously startling each other with the synchronisation. “You go first, Hee.”

“Are you sure? You can go-”

“You look like you need to get something out that badly.” You attempted to joke, lifting up the heavy mood that surrounds you like a thick fog.

Heeseung took a deep breath as he stepped closer towards you. His back is not leaned against the door anymore and his gaze is stuck on yours. “Yn I…I like you. Fuck, I love you, even, probably, I don’t know.” The boy pulled your still joint hands, lifting it up before kissing the skin in a gentle manner, one that leaves you yearning for more.

“But I want to…figure it out. With you, if you don’t mind.” Your connecting gaze doesn’t break. You breathe in his confession like a drug, addicted to the true sound of his heart. The light in his eyes dimmed at your lack of reply. But before he could turn away, a force pulled him down from the nape of his neck as warm lips pressed against his own, soft but also fierce, not lacking of passion. Almost as if you’ve been waiting to do this.

The boy doesn’t wait to reciprocate, one of his hands slithered on your waist like it was meant to be there as the other cups your cheek, angling it sideways to deepen the kiss. You could feel it, all the raw emotion rushing through the action. And right now, this is all that matters. His lips are gentle on yours, moving with such care like you were the most precious thing in his possession. Years of tension and harbored feelings melted into the kiss, you pulled him even closer to you, like you can’t handle any remaining distance between you.

Heavy breaths echoed across the room as your faces deepened into five shades of maroon, your past actions finally settling into you. You couldn’t believe it. You just kissed Lee Heeseung. And he kissed you back. If you were to tell this moment to your five year old self, you swore she was gonna punch you in the face for having Heeseung’s cooties.

“So…uhm, I like you too?” You sheepishly smiled, still enveloped in his embrace. The warmth excluding him started to feel like home.

The boy before you mirrored your smile before quickly pecking your lips. You both laughed at the carefree moment. Finally after a decade and two years of constant fighting and suppressed feelings, you both came true to another.

“Come and give me another kiss, girlfriend.” Heeseung felt the corner of his mouth curling up, eyeing his love. The newfound status rolled out of his tongue like it was second nature, like he had practiced it a couple hundred times before.

The butterflies swarming your stomach still continued to linger and even increased tenfold. The tips of your ears showcasing the color of your favorite fruit–strawberries. But instead of melting into a mush (like you would prefer to tbh), you hummed in thought, leaning backwards with his hands wrapped on your waist supporting your back before replying, “Girlfriend?” Your eyebrow shot up. “Maybe after one date, then I’ll consider.”

Heeseung harbored no other emotion in his gaze rather than one reeking of amusement and love as he kissed the tip of your nose, amplifying the crimson shade of your facade.

"Okay, next Saturday, 7pm. Wear something nice, baby."

BONUS:

You and Heeseung made your way back to the dining table with flustered faces, (slightly) swollen lips, and a suspiciously good mood. Taehyun raised his eyebrows at the two older people before him, his gaze later shifted to the side, making eye contact with your dad and Hee’s before receiving two fifty bucks under the table.

Ah, what a good day. Now he just needs to collect the remaining money from Auntie Lee and your mom’s bet.

Kang Ha-yoon and Lee Hae-in watched as their children exchanged sheepish glances instead of muttering curses at the other, a surging proudness fills the air like oxygen, letting the two woman finally breathe in the air with no cut throat tension radiating from you and Heeseung.

They might’ve lost a hundred bucks and may or may not owe Taehyun a new PS5, but as awkward dinners turn into lively conversations (without any passive aggression lacing in your tones) the two women send knowing smiles to each other.

It seemed as if their plan had worked. A little too well maybe but hey, maybe they'll officially be family if this continues. After all, your mothers have always secretly fantasised about yours and Heeseung’s wedding without any knowledge that there is a bigger chance of it coming true.

The private pinterest board rotting in your mother’s account may be for good use after all.

Fin.

TAGLIST -> @jiwuu @xylatox @ttulixia @iboughtnjz @bubblytaetae @wintereals @manuosorioh @ddolleri

AERNX 2025

#enhypen x reader #heeseung x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #enhypen x you #enhypen #enhypen heeseung #enhypen imagines #enhypen x y/n #enhypen scenarios #lee heeseung x reader #heeseung imagines #heeseung x you

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st4rlvr · 2 days ago

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hihi :D can you do a headcanon of bangchan getting high too? i’d appreciate it 😭

(the grin that spread across my face reading this YES YES!!!)

chan getting high headcanons

⸻

-You knew he’d be a giggling mess. But you were not prepared for how cute he’d be with glassy eyes, red-rimmed lashes, and the softest flush painting his cheeks. His curls are a little messy from flopping back into your lap, and he keeps blinking slow like he’s just now discovering what it means to blink.

-The moment it hits, he’s smothering you—literally full-body on top of you, limbs all tangled. You try to shift so you can breathe and he just grips tighter.

“No. If I let go I’ll float away,” he mutters into your neck like he’s solving the world’s problems.

-“I need a kiss or else I’ll flatline,” he mumbles dramatically. His voice trembles with devastation.

-He keeps asking for kisses but in the neediest little pouty tone. “Just one. No—actually two. Wait. Five. I need five. I’m emotionally malnourished.”

-He tastes the smoke in his mouth again and scrunches his face like a puppy who ate a lemon. “I really didn’t expect it to taste like that… kinda like… sexy?”

“What?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.”

-Then the rambling starts. You were warned he talks a lot when he’s sober—nothing compares to high Chan.

“Y/N… you’re so beautiful and I’m so high and I really love you and I don’t understand how water even works and like, I was looking at your nose and wondering how you were born with the perfect nose and I’m scared I’m gonna die from being too in love with you and I just wanna live inside your hoodie or maybe your pocket—”

-He goes silent when the doorbell rings. You both freeze. “What if it’s the police.”

“It’s Jisung, he’s bringing food—”

“WHAT IF JISUNG IS THE POLICE NOW.”

-When Jisung walks in, Chan bolts upright on the couch, sits way too straight, and tries to speak like he’s narrating a public safety announcement. “Good evening, Han Jisung. Thank you for the food.”

-Jisung immediately bursts out laughing. “Bro. You’re so cooked it’s painful.”

“I knew you’d know!!” Chan says, eyes wide like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Is it my aura??”

“It’s the fact that you’re crying into a spring roll.”

-That’s right. He’s sobbing as he eats. You ask what’s wrong and all he can say is:

“It’s just… this… food? Is the best thing I’ve ever had. I’m crying because I didn’t know I needed it like this.”

“Do you even know what you’re eating?”

“Nope. Could be chalk for all I know. But I love it. I love you. I love Jisung. I love life.”

-He ends up curled around you like a koala, mumbling nonsense while rubbing his face against your shoulder like a cat.

-He watches you with those red, sleepy, totally wrecked eyes—lashes fluttering, lips parted, every little movement you make having him starstruck. You’re not even doing anything. Just existing.

-You end the night with his head in your lap, his fingers curled into your hoodie strings, mumbling:

“I need you every second of my life… I’m gonna marry you so hard…”

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creati-bunny · 3 days ago

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WHAT HAPPENS TO INTERNS WHEN THEY SLEEP WITH SOMEONE WHO TURNS OUT TO BE THEIR BOSS? Their focus breaks, their minds will only be filled with the mind-blowing sex they had with that stranger, and thinking about the possibility of them getting kicked out of the medical program. As a surgeon, your priority should be your patients, and should always be. Levi Ackerman finds it the hard way when the attending he is supposed to consult to turns out to be you.

The Head of Neurology Department.

A shocked expression was on your face, seeing his presence in the hospital. He wanted to comment about the dark blue scrubs you’re wearing that look pretty damn good on you—if it weren’t for the fact that you’re his boss.

Levi scowls when he sees you walking towards him. You are wearing the biggest grin on your face like a damn fool, holding a chart of your patient’s. He was about to walk away.

About to.

“Didn’t know I’ll be seeing you soon, handsome,” you say casually with a suave grin, your eyes admiring the sky-blue scrubs on his body. “And here I thought I’d never see you again.”

You lean your elbow against the wall, staring him down with such a pleasant smile and did not waver the slightest when you see him walking away, practically ignoring you—you follow him like a curious puppy. “Hey, why are you ignoring me?”

Levi gives you a dry smile, “Dr. [Last Name], there is a patient who has nails punctured on his skull. And he is still declared alive; should I book an OR?” He gives the charts to you, doubling the weight in your arms.

“Oh? Interesting, ask them to book and prep an OR,” you read off the charts of the patient’s, letting out an interested hum. You give the charts to one of the nurses, commanding them to scrub in for prepping the OR. You look at him, eyes wandering up and down for a moment before chuckling breathily.

“You look hot when you’re being professional.”

“Dr. [Last Name].”

He seethes your name with venom, before roughly grabbing your arm and head over to the stairwell. He locks the door, before facing you with an unhappy look—it amuses you even further.

“Okay, this—we’re not doing this,” Levi clarified with a serious expression on his face, glowering at your bright one. You hummed out of curiosity.

“Why not? We are great for each other.”

“I’m being fucking serious. It was one night, and I was unaware you’re my boss—stop smiling, you piece of shit!”

You dramatically gasped, “You’re aware that I’m your boss, and you’re talking to me like that?” You pouted playfully, leaning in close to him. You fluttered your eyelashes, enough to make him roll his eyes. Yet the smell of your cologne was enough to lose his concentration, and partnered up with the color of your eyes.

This was getting dangerous.

“I don’t even know your name, doctor,” you control your fingers from fondling the fat on his cheeks, wanting to just have him in your arms in the on-call room. “You just left me alone at your house, kicking me out after having the best night with me.”

You are irritating—it does not help that Levi knew what would happen with interns who tend to sleep with their boss. “We need to be professional; you’re banned from ever laying a hand on me,” he gets close to you, wanting to overthrow you with his glare, challenging you. “We will talk because of patients and what’s wrong with them.”

“I still haven’t heard your name, doctor.”

You glow like flowers and the sun. He stares up at you with irritation, probably disgust, not something so mushy and dirty like what he felt with you in your bedroom; the image of your naked body rubbing against his, and how pleasure blooms between you two so much—the orgasm breaks out like a fountain, and your mouth, too skilled for a surgeon who is supposed to be good with their hands, made him reach a high.

“Levi. Levi Ackerman,” he complied at your request quietly, his guarded eyes slowly softening when he saw the happiness in your eyes. Both of you shared silence for a moment before he broke it off and left you alone in the stairway.

Like how he left you alone early morning.

It was hard to avoid you.

Not when you’re one of the most prestigious and excellent neurosurgeons the hospital knows, and every neuro consult will obviously be conducted towards you, the head of Neurology Deparment. Levi watches you with the other interns he is with as you consolidate the diagnosis your patient has.

“What do you suggest we do, doctors?” Your tone is professional, different from how you acted towards him in the stairwell. And of course, Levi knew what procedures should be done—should he raise his hand? Because he knew that it is rare to be in one of your surgeries.

But he cannot be with you, can he? He can, but his morals want to stop him… but you’re staring at him, like you’re expecting him to know the answer, like you’re expecting so much of him—of course he does know the answer. So, why was he not answering?

“Dr. Ackerman?”

Levi does not want to enjoy the proud glint in your eyes, even though you’re not smiling; you wear your heart in your sleeve. He answers smoothly, like he’s not battling with his innermost feelings about you. Yet, he caves in when you tell him to scrub in with you.

And that begins the hardship.

“Scalpel.”

He stares into your focused eyes, watching you take a flap off the skull of the patient’s, dousing water on his brain. The precision of your hands was amazing—like your hands were made for surgery; your hands move smoothly with no hesitation.

“What does this tell us, Dr. Ackerman?” You asked him to test his knowledge, your hands slowly taking out the needles one by one. Levi looks into your eyes, cursing you in his mind.

“Vitals are stable and should be good for the night. Any signs of abnormality will be less frequent if he takes his medications.”

“Very good, Ackerman.” He thinks the coffee is making his heart palpitate, not because of your praise. You were persistent, subtle, and really so sly—it gets under his nerves.

The surgery lasted for a few hours, and it was successful. That’s how good you are. That’s how skilled your hands were. Proven by the staff, by the patient, by the chief, and by him. Medical and non-medical.

You were about to head home; you were not annoying him anymore after the surgery, and he figured it was because you were tired enough.

You take the elevator, the doors about to slide close before a foot shoves in to keep them open.

He walks in without a word, pressing the emergency button to keep the elevator from moving. The tired look on your face became relieved when you saw him, and Levi wonders why that happens; it was only one night, and you make it something like it is something more.

“You did well,” his words break the silence. You turn your head to look at him in surprise at his compliment. “You were amazing back in the OR.”

“Oh?”

Your heart beats a bit fast, not expecting him to compliment you. You let out a hearty chuckle, towering over him. “You as well, doctor,” you gaze at his lips and into his gorgeous eyes. His neck—the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down when he senses you getting closer.

“Don’t,” he warned you with a sneer, making you back away with an innocent smile. “It was just a compliment, you’re crossing the line.”

“There is a line?”

“A line that I drew between us,” he pushes your whole body weight with one hand, not caring that he was manhandling you, his boss, out in public. “We are not to speak with each other unless it’s about our patients. You fucking get me?”

You become silent at his words; you’re too focused on his hand, blatantly, almost about to fondle your chest. The tension between you two worsens when you feel each other’s heartbeats; his breathing was becoming ragged, his eyes intensely boring into yours.

He remembers the moment you pleasure him, the moment he pleasure you; the moans he elicits out of you, it was music to his ears. Levi bites his lower lip, focusing on your lips, and thinks about how it felt when they were wrapped around his—

“You’re staring. For someone who doesn’t want to cross the line,” you whispered teasingly, your breath fanning over his face. Levi clicked his tongue, backing away and regaining his conciousness.

“Do you get off to this sick power play?” he spits back at you with a bite in his voice, his fists clenching around his sides while he glares at you. “You expect me to stare at you all day, expecting good surgeries in exchange for sleeping with you? Just so you know, I’m not a slut.”

“I’m not saying you are, Levi.”

“Don’t call me by my first name, Dr. [Last Name],”

You grinned with sick amusement, watching him get flustered under your gaze. You bit your lip, getting close to him, “So this line you’re talking about… is it imaginary?” you mumbled with a sultry voice, your fingers ghosting over his waist—already close to breaking the line by touching his skin. “… or should I get a marker to draw it?”

Levi stared into your eyes for a moment, a permanent scowl on his face. The tension snaps; he crashed his warm lips against you, his charts dropping on the floor as he wrapped his arms around your neck. You reciprocated it easily, gripping his waist as roughly as he does—the room was getting hot, he was getting hot and bothered.

“T—That’s..!”

He lets out a breathy whine, feeling your fingers rubbing against his lower back. You knew it was one of his sensitive spots. Your hands wander around his ass, fondling it—you let him dominate the kiss, the lust inside you blurring out your mind to do the right thing. You two pulled away with force; he caught his breath while staring into your eyes as if you defiled him.

You wet your lips with your tongue, dazed from the intense makeout session with him. Levi did not even give you the time to comprehend the situation before he pulled back the emergency button and immediately left you again in the elevator.

One of his habits? Him leaving someone when he feels overstimulated. And he certainly doesn’t want to have sex with his boss in an elevator.

inspired by Grey’s Anatomy || image is by @suzupiyosan on X

#creati works .ೃ࿐#anime fanfiction #anime x reader #anime #attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #aot #levi x reader #aot levi ackerman #aot levi #shingeki no kyojin #snk #levi ackerman x you

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angel-writes-skz-here · 8 hours ago

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Forbidden Fruit

Stepbro!Hyunjin x Stepsis!Reader Synopsis: Being step siblings is hard, especially when as adults you both know things aren't typical. Warnings: SMUT, cunnilingus, oral, fingering, unprotected p in v, step sibling stuff, fluff A/N: If this isn't your thing, no big deal just scroll on. I wanted to try something a little more taboo. I hope you guys like it! Xoxo💋

8 years ago…

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, too lost in thought to register anything outside of your own ball of anxiety. The cutest guy in school asked you out on a date today, your first date, and he’d be here soon to pick you up.

Hyunjin leans against the door frame, tapping his knuckle against the wooden door.

“Can I borrow your acrylic-” he trails off seeing your spaced-out state; confusion etched onto his face.

“Y/n?” You give no response, prompting Hyunjin to step into the room fully, taking note of the baby pink skirt that sat just a little too high on your thighs, exposing your long and smooth legs.

“Hey, shortstack,” he says bending down to your line of sight.

“Huh? What?”

“What’s wrong?” Hyunjin asks noting the frantic sound in your voice. His arms come to either side of you, caging you against the bed.

Hyunjin was always one to worry, even though you were only a year apart he still looked out for you.

“I have a date tonight,” you flush. Hyunjin’s face scrunches up.

“With who?” he asks, tone sharp.

“This boy in my math class. But I’ve never really gone on a date before and you know what happens on first dates… After all you’ve had plenty of them,” you mumble the last part. Your step brother was notorious for short little flings and being a player.

“What? The kiss?” his brows raise in question. You nod feebly.

“I’ve never, ya know,” you try to say without actually saying, embarrassment striking your face.

“You’ve never kissed anyone before? You’re like 16, I had my first kiss at 13,” he chuckles and you groan.

“If you’re gonna laugh at me just leave.” You pickup a pillow and slightly whack him with it.

“Woah, ok ok, I’m sorry, it’s just, really? Never?” He sounds surprised.

“What did you need?” you ask desperately trying to change the subject. You stand up from the bed but Hyunjin captures your wrist in his hand, pulling you to face him as he sits on the bed.

“No, hey, come on, I’m sorry. I was just,” he sighs as he thinks of his next words, “Shocked.”

You sigh not making eye contact with him, too embarrassed.

“I um, I could help, ya know. If- if you want me to.” He stands up tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, his dark eyes soft but sincere.

“Wha- how?”

“Practice with me,” he says lowly, eyes flitting to your lips. Your eyes widen at his proposition. Your relationship with Hyunjin isn’t typical. You became step siblings at the ages of 13 and 14. You never really fought, of course he teased you but what brother doesn’t?

You typically did enjoy each other’s company, having movie nights, him letting you play on his xbox with him, teaching you dance moves he’d learned; fun little ways of spending time together eventually led to a small crush on your end. Something you thought would die down after a while, but it never did.

“I- uh, o-ok,” your words stumble out, and Hyunjin smirks at fact that you’re nervous.

“I’ve got you, ok? Just mimic me. Just like when we’re dancing. Follow my lead,” his eyes gaze into yours, something you could swear looked real and his hand caresses your cheek, “He should be gentle, not forceful, not rough; patient.” He mumbles, feeling your body shake as you inhale a breath. You nod weakly throat feeling slightly dry; the moment tense with anticipation.

You watch as his eyes flit down to your lips before he leans in slowly, gently brushing his lips against yours. You hesitate for a moment, allowing your eyes to flutter shut once you feel the way he moves his lips against yours. Just as he’s about to pull away, you brush your own against his in a way that’s more than gentle, something ardent and slightly desperate.

A soft moan escapes his mouth and as your arms dare to lift from your sides-

“Y/n! Jungwoo is here!” your mother calls up the stairs. Hyunjin hesitantly pulls back.

You stare at each other for what feels hours, his eyes searching yours for… something, but you’re not sure what. Hyunjin purses his lips tightly.

“You’ll be fine. Have fun,” he says all too quickly and flees the room. Your head spins from everything, the desire for your date completely gone. And yet you go anyway.

Present Day…

Moving in with your step brother meant a few things.

Mom and dad wouldn’t be on your back about getting a boyfriend and getting married. More independence as Hyunjin wasn’t the over protective type, usually. And more autonomy over your life as he wasn’t able to be nosy due to being constantly being busy.

The rules were simple, Hyunjin would pay rent as long as you took care of the place and Kkami while he’s gone on tour, until you saved up enough money to get your own place. Something you were close to doing with your secret job of being a stripper.

You decided to keep your job secret, because it simply wasn’t anyone’s business. You’re grown, your body is killer and you can do what you want to with it. When Hyunjin is on tour, it’s smooth sailing, its when he’s home that things are more complicated.

When he asked about your job you mentioned you were a waitress, which wasn’t a total lie, that’s how you started out, only two weeks in had you decided to start stripping and seeing the real money.

Hyunjin knew you weren’t a waitress. He knew where you worked, in fact he frequented the establishment many times, for you. He’d always made sure to stay out of sight for the most part. On nights when he dared to get closer to the stage to watch your set, he wore a mask, and his hair covered his face mostly.

Tonight though, he felt brave. It started off like any night would. Practice was over, and he thought of you, working so hard to make money doing what he considered something so degrading for you. He would often shell out his own money on you, even if it was indirectly. He’d send a friend, who didn’t know you, to go up to the stage with wads of cash. He’d even have said friend pay you for a dance.

He told himself he was there to keep an eye on you, which he was, but he knew deep down why he was really there. Why he wanted to watch you. The way your hips would sway when you moved was mesmerizing and he took a bit of pride in knowing he taught you how to move them.

He walks in, the air hazy from smoke and music vibrating off the walls. His eyes scan the crowd, mask over his face, looking for you.

He finds you ‘flirting’ with some man and his eyes stayed glued to you as he watches you disappear with him to one of the little privacy rooms available. His stomach twists, the thought of a guy trying to touch you always makes his blood boil. You weren’t a prize to be won, a thing to be played with, a toy to use. You were a beautiful woman, one that deserved respect, to be revered, to be treated like royalty.

He knew guys would get grabby at the club, he could tell when it would happen too. You’d come home, he’d still be awake waiting on you with warm food, and some nights you were just quiet. Some nights you would burst into silent tears as he held you and you’d tell him a customer gave you a really hard time. How they yelled at you or were rude. He knew what you meant, and yet as much as he hated to seeing you in pain, he loved the fact that you would cling to him as if he was your safe space; someone you could trust.

Hyunjin really did treat you well, more than a sister, but obviously that’s all you’d ever be to him, at least that’s what you convinced yourself.

Hyunjin is solicited for dances and he turns them down, simply grabbing a drink at the bar, waiting on you to come out of the room with the guy. He downs about two drinks before he see’s you, the man trailing behind and you walk in his direction.

You don’t recognize him, you simply go to walk past him, but he stands up and darts in front of you.

“Can I get a dance?” he asks over the loud music.

“Sure sweetheart, it’s,” you go to say the price but Hyunjin holds out a wad of cash rolled up with a rubber band. Your heart races at the amount. Something about him feels familiar, but you can’t place your finger on it. You brush it aside and take his hand, leading him to another room in the back.

The music is muffled as the door creaks open under your touch allowing you two to be in your own private world.

“You can remove the mask ya know.” You smile at him.

“No, I’m good,” he says simply.

“Ok, well sit back, and relax,” you smile slyly, causing his knees to buckle as he sits on the plush sofa. You begin dancing once he pays over the proper amount. The room is set in a romantic tone, candles, low lighting, decent music as you sway your hips, before climbing the pole doing all sorts of sexy tricks. You find yourself giggling as his eyes are glued to you, slightly widened.

You slide down, arching your back throwing your head back to look at him, shaking your chest a little. You notice the way his brows furrow together and the slight scar in his brow. For a split moment your heart races at the idea that it could be him, but you convince yourself it couldn’t be.

Hyunjin shifts his pants as you walk over, continuing the dance, shaking your chest in his face as you straddle his hips. His fingers flex at his sides, desperate to touch you.

“You wanna touch me, baby?” Your voice is seductive in his ear. Your heart races as you watch him nod, eyes closed briefly. You pick up his hands, placing them on your breasts, helping his hands squeeze a little.

“Touching’s gonna cost you though,” you smirk and he lets out a barely audible moan. You chuckle at him, hips grinding against him. You let his hands rest there for a moment, only for them to run down your sides to your ass with his eyes watching you as you smile as you shake it in his hands.

You use his hands to slide the strap of your dress down your shoulder, and same goes for the other as you stand up and move your hands over your body as you slink out of the tight piece of clothing.

Your bra and panties are sheer and Hyunjin feels a jealousy burn inside his chest. How many other men had seen you like this tonight? He knew the guy before him did. Did he touch you? Did he touch what was his- or what he wanted to be his? Did he try to make a move? Were you safe? Why did they all get to see this but he didn’t without a mask?

Watching you like this is wrong. He shouldn’t be here; he should have showed his face and let you choose. Hell, he never should have showed up at all. But it was too tempting to have you all to himself, in ways he was sure you’d never be.

The dance comes to an end all too soon and Hyunjin leaves you with the wad he showed you earlier, not saying a word as he exits the room.

“Thank you,” you call out unsure of if he heard you.

You sneak in the apartment that night, hearing the tv in his room still on. He hadn’t met you with dinner that night, which was strange, but you were a big girl, you could handle fixing your own food. The smile plastered on your face was hard to miss. You shut the door behind you, now in an outfit that looks more like a restaurant uniform. You kick off your shoes and stretch for a moment.

Hyunjin comes walking in, barely sparing a glance your way as he grabs a drink from the fridge.

“Uh, hey?”

“What?” he snaps. Your head pops back at his tone, confusion coming across your face.

“Who pissed in your Cheerios?” you ask as you open the fridge searching for food.

“Just forget it. Foods in the microwave.” He mumbles, clearly upset over something, walking back towards his room.

“No I’m not just gonna forget it, what happened? You can’t honestly be mad at me, I just walked in the door.” You say as you walk after him.

“Y/n, forget it, ok?”

“Jinnie, you know you can talk to me,” you go to stand in front of him and he looks as if it’s all he can do to hold himself back.

“Hyunjin, seriously what’s wrong, you’re scaring me,” your hand goes to pick up his, but before you can fully reach it, your back is against the wall. Your eyes are wide, his chest is falling up and down. Neither of you says a word, tension building quickly as your lips are inches apart.

“Jinnie?” You ask quietly, your bodies drawn to one another like a magnet. His eyes look between yours. He furrows his brows together, shutting his eyes and that’s when you see it coupled with that cute little scar you remembered from earlier that night.

Your heart leaps in your chest as your eyes widen with genuine shock.

“Oh my god!” His eyes pop open at your sudden shriek. Hyunjin leaps back from you.

“You were- holy shit, it was you?” you ask and yet accuse him all at once.

“What was me?” he tries to play it off.

“Don’t fuck with me, Hyunjin!”

“I’m not, what the hell are you going on about!”

“So, if I call Chan can he vouch that you were here all night?” your voice is filled with anger, covering up the embarrassment and slight shame you feel. How could you have not known?

“No, we went to go eat after practice.”

“Let’s test that then,” you pull out your phone defiantly and Hyunjin sighs dragging a hand down his face. He walks over to you slowly, taking the phone from your hand.

“It was you,” you whisper again as you process, “Oh my god I let you touch me. You touched me,” you say starting to freak out.

“Shhhh, it’s ok,”

“Hyunjin you’re my brother, it’s not-”

“Y/n, we aren’t kids anymore. I’m nothing to you, now. A friend maybe.” He whispers, noses touching. His lips dip down to capture yours, the kiss soft, sweet, familiar.

“Hyunjin, stop we can’t do this,” you say against his lips, your body betraying you by putting your arms around his neck.

“Why not?” he asks between kisses.

“Because, we- we grew up together, we’re,”

“We lived in the same house together. But I never once looked at you like you were my sister,” he whispers against your lips. His lips are smooth, mouth possessive as you rest against the wall once more. You whimper into his mouth, desperate to feel him.

“I want you,” he whispers in your ear before kissing your lips again.

“Hyunjin,” you whimper as his hands squeeze your ass.

“What would people think of us?”

“I don’t give a fuck,” he says before his tongue swipes into your mouth, tasting you properly. A deep moan escapes him as the taste of your mouth lands on his tongue. He takes your hand, placing it over his sweats.

“That’s what you do to me,” he whispers as he forces your hand to grasp him and he hisses. You whimper involuntarily.

“I’m scared,” you whisper.

“Of what?” he asks gently, a hand cupping your face with his thumb rubbing over your cheek.

“I don’t know, I,” you sigh and look away. He guides your face back to him making you look into his eyes.

“Let me take care of you, let me melt all that fear away.” His face is soft, pleading and you feel the twist in your stomach, the nerves are apparent but you push past them.

“I- ok,” you breathe and Hyunjin practically swallows the words as his lips find yours again, soft yet possessive. His hands come under your thighs helping you jump and support you as your legs wrap around his waist. He carries you off to his room, gently laying you on the bed. He pulls himself away from you, looking down at you, letting reality set in.

“So pretty,” he mumbles as he trails kisses to your cheek, jawline then your neck, sucking harshly against the sweet spot under your ear.

“Hyunjin,” you whimper as you feel his teeth.

“Say my name baby, sounds so sweet falling from your lips.” He breathes in your ear. You feel his hand come to undo the buttons of your white top.

“Wait,” you stop him.

“Baby I’ve already seen you,” he reassures you, “You’re beautiful,”

“But that was me performing, this isn’t as sexy,”

“You trusting me? Letting me have you? God I couldn’t ask for anything better. This is the sexiest thing you can do.” He whispers as his fingers undo the first button. Your face flushes red as he snaps the buttons open now, some of them popping off the shirt. He bites his lip as a groan leaves him.

He lets you sit up and slides off the shirt as well as unhooking your bra letting it fall down. You look away from him, nerves getting the better of you.

“A masterpiece,” he whispers before circling your nipple with his tongue. A gasp leaves your mouth as you cradle his head in your hands. You moan as his mouth encompasses it. He flicks his tongue over it, looking up at you through his lashes.

“That feels good,” you encourage breathily as you arch into him when he gently takes the bud between his teeth. He smiles at your reaction before giving attention to your other breast, flattening his tongue over the sensitive bud, thumb rubbing over the abandoned one. Pinching it and kneading your flesh.

“Fuck,” you whisper as you grab at the sheet, desperate for something to hang on to.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers before kissing down your body, tongue darting out over your skin every so often. He slides off your pants and panties in one go, looking at you like you’re the most amazing thing he’s ever seen.

“Fuck I knew you were gorgeous but damn,” he says as he settles between your legs. He places kisses to your inner thighs teasingly as he ghosts his breath over your folds.

You buck your hips in response.

“Hyunnie please,” you ask, voice shaky.

“Still nervous baby?” He asks and you nod slightly. He takes hold of your hand, rubbing soothing circles on top of it as he spreads you open with his free hand.

“Such a pretty thing,” he says earnestly. He flattens his tongue and slowly drags it from your entrance all the way up to your clit, slowly circling it with the tip of his tongue.

“Oh shit,” you gasp as your eyes flutter closed.

“Fuck,” you breathe as you feel him flick it with soft pressure.

“Don’t tease me,” you whimper. When you look down at him, his eyes are trained on you, a sight you’d dreamt of seeing but never actually thought you’d get to see. His thumb helps ground you as he picks up the pace and presses harder onto your bundle of nerves.

“Fuck Hyunjin,” you cry out as arch your back. He moves his tongue side to side before sucking your clit into his mouth, making you cry out. Hyunjin can feel his cock in his pants straining, leaking at all your noises. He grinds himself onto the bed, desperate for his own friction.

Hyunjin’s mouth starts to get messy, hot breathing, moans and whimpers fall into your pussy as he eats like it’s his last meal. Your hips roll against his face, the tight coil in your belly forming.

“Fuck I’m close,” you whimper as your back once again arches for him.

“Cum for me, baby. I want all of you. Mmm, wanna taste you,” he says as he licks harder, a finger entering you entrance curling up into your g spot.

“’m gonna cum,” you squeak out as your body starts to lock up, his finger working quickly.

“Ah-ha,” you cry out as your back arches off the bed, body completely wrecked by your first orgasm.

“Fuck, Hyunjin, wait, ah shit,” you squeal as your hips violently buck as his tongue doesn’t stop and neither do his fingers.

“Hyunjin, please ‘s too much.”

“You can take it, come on baby girl one more. Fuck give me one more, please, I need it,” he begs. He adds another finger, quickly curling his fingers as he pulls another orgasm out of you.

He watches you like he’s the one being wrecked, watches as your pussy sucks his fingers in, desperately clinging to them as you ride out the second high of the night. Your chest rises up and down as you calm down, the feeling of Hyunjin’s tongue kitten licking your pussy clean makes you squirm.

“Hold still baby,” he says as he rubs your thigh with his free hand.

“’m almost done.” He moans as he cleans you up, your taste is like catnip to him. He kisses up your body, nipping at your hips. He hovers himself over you, gazing lovingly into your eyes.

“Not too bad right?” he asks with a small smirk. Your hand goes to the back of his neck and brings his head down to you, his lips still taste of you and you both groan.

“Tell me what you want,” he says against you,

“I wanna taste you,” you breathe out.

“You sure?” he asks and you nod.

“’s only fair.” You mumble as he puts his back to the headboard, undoing his pants and sliding them off.

“Do you know how?” He asks with a brow quirked. You nod simply and settle yourself between his legs. You lick a stripe up the underneath side, feeling the large vein there. You flick your tongue over the head and watch as his head tilts back, eyes screwing shut.

You smile to yourself, proud to see the effect you have on him. You sink your mouth down slowly, taking in every single inch that you can, your nose brushing his pelvis as you suck.

“Ah, fuck, that’s so hot,” he groans as he watches his cock disappear inside your mouth. You moan around him, causing his hips to buck.

“Don’t do that, baby, I’m not gonna last.” you glance up at him through your lashes and he moans at the eye contact.

“You look so pretty like this,” he whispers as you raise your head up again.

“Your mouth is perfect, ngh,” he moans as you set a consistent speed, moaning around him every now and again. You swirl your tongue around the head, teasing his slit a little as you look up at him.

“I’m gonna cum,” he whimpers as his hips buck up into your mouth, causing a slight gagging noise to be heard from you, tears brimming your eyes.

“Shit baby, I’m sorry. Fuck you just, feel so good,” he says through labored breaths.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum,” he says as you suck harder, moving faster up and down.

“nnnngh,” he says as he bends forward, the thick white streams coating the back of your throat; the salty taste hitting your tastebuds. You swallow every bit of him before you slowly take your mouth off him, a string of saliva connecting him and your bottom lip.

“Fuck that was so hot,” he says as he leans forward to kiss you desperately.

“I want you,” you whimper against his lips.

“Ain’t gotta tell me twice,” he chuckles as he rolls you to your back.

He lines himself up, looking back at your face for any sign of hesitancy.

You nod, chewing on your bottom lip.

He slides in slow, allowing your body to slowly stretch around him. As he sinks in as you gasp and once he bottoms out, you both moan grasping onto each other.

“Wanted this for so long,” he says in your ear, “Knew you’d fit around me perfectly, so tight and warm, ready for me to make you mine,” he groans. He feels your hips buck, signaling him its time to move. He pulls himself almost all the way out before sliding back in easy, letting you feel every inch of him against your gummy walls.

Your body arches into him as he thrusts in harder, hitting your g spot easily.

“So wet, so tight,” he babbles as his hips find a steady pace. His lips find yours again, hands lacing together beside your head.

“That’s my girl, look at how well you take me. I knew you were made for me,” he whispers. Something about the possessiveness in his voice makes your walls clench around him,

He chuckles at your body’s response, kissing you once more, tongues now gliding together in an open kiss. He unlaces your hands, feeling your walls flutter more frequently, and moves it down to rub tight circles on your clit.

“Mmmf,” you whimper as your cling to him, both your bodies slick with sweat as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“I’ve got you, let go for me. Cum on my cock, sweet girl.” He moans in your ear. His words push you over the edge, eyes screwing shut as you cry out in pure pleasure, your orgasm washing over you as you cum all over his cock, body trembling beneath him.

Hyunjin’s hips stutter as he feels his own climax reach him and he paints your insides, fingers flexing against the mattress as you hold onto him.

“Fuck,” he breathes as he catches his breath and you pull back, cupping his face. He looks at you, part of him terrified you regret it, but he’s met with soft sincere eyes.

“That was amazing,” you whisper to him and your lips connect for a sweet kiss.

“Not so scary after all, huh?” you giggle and shake your head no, brushing a few strands of hair out of his face.

“God you’re perfect,” he says pulling out of you. He quickly gets up, grabbing a warm, damp towel and helps clean you up.

Your hips buck as he cleans near your sensitive clit.

“Sorry,” he mumbles as he wipes up the rest of the mess, mesmerized by how it seeps out of you before he finishes. He tosses the towel in the bin before cuddling with you under the blankets, holding you tight.

“I really wish you wouldn’t go back that club,” he says quietly.

“I want to take care of you, spoil you.”

“You already do that, Jinnie,” you chuckle.

“Yeah, but I don’t want anyone else seeing what’s mine.” He smiles and you hum in agreement. There’s a beat of silence that follows, one that’s comfortable and easy.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted that,” he smiles as he kisses the top of your head.

“You did so well, my sweet girl,” he whispers into your hair.

“Hyunjin,” you ask cautiously.

“Hmm?”

“You do realize this isn’t gonna be easy to explain, to anyone.”

“It’s none of their business.” He says as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“I love you and you love me, I know you do.” He says as he tilts your face up to look at him.

“I do,” you smile and nuzzle your head under his.

“Then we’ll figure out the rest.” He says as he hugs you impossibly tighter against him; the two of you falling asleep in each other’s arms.

Tags: @breakmeoff @thelovelybireader @crystal005 @velvetmoonlght

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lexdelioncourt · 3 days ago

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I have 2 fears regarding Devil's Minion

- that they would focus less on past DM and more on present DM (there have been a lot of hints with Eric and Assad, but almost nothing w Assad and Luke)

- that they would focus more on the toxic aspect (re Rolin's comments that it will be majorly fucked up) rather than the domestic part

But I love love love your hopeposting, its so refreshing

Hey! I'm so glad you enjoy my hopeposting! Don't get me wrong, I have my fears too (these two own my ass) but I'm always trying to remember things that we know, while trying to tap into as much media analysis as possible in order to keep the hope alive. So let's inject some hope, shall we?

Personally I believe there are too many things that have been teased in S1/2 that don't really make sense to me if past-DM didn't happen. The main and most obvious one to me being the weirdly soft moments Armand has with Daniel (stopping Louis from messing with him, comforting Daniel when Louis brings up the Alice thing, apologising on behalf of Louis after he did that, the soft conversation at the beginning of Episode 2.3, the long companionable silences that are emphasised by repeated shots of Daniel's audio recording program). This is not the way someone would behave towards a total stranger they met once 50 years ago, tortured for a week, and then never saw again until now. SOMETHING has changed in this relationship between 1973 and 2022. Before and after having fallen in love?? Hopefully!

I also think that these softer moments hint to us that we will hopefully see their relationship as equal parts messy and soft (like we've seen with Loustat), because the writers are doing a great job of giving us some well-rounded characters and complex ships and I hope that they will continue to do so. Rolin's comment about something "majorly fucked up" between them could go any way I think. I mean it's majorly fucked up if Armand did wipe all of Daniel's memories! Chasing him around the world is also pretty fucked up! A lot of stuff they do is fucked up! But they have those soft moments too, soft moments I think show Armand is still having in those scenes I mentioned above. Also, it's always key to remember that showrunners talk shit all the time to keep from spoiling their shows. He's going to be trolling and redirecting and trying to keep a lid on things as much as possible so I don't think we should worry too much on that front.

On the Alice thing, I'm not gonna beat a dead horse, we all know the theories but I think the key takeaways are

The "she felt freer to hold her hand" line (because there has been throughout the entire show a repeating refrain of "European sensibilities", "they care less about what you look like or who you're looking at").

2. The very intentional editing of that scene ("what did she *flashback of Armand* say when you asked her to marry you *shot of Armand*". I think this is a VERY intentional editing choice. This isn't subtext, this is just THE TEXT.

Also the fact that the show has kept the past timeline the same as the book timeline (OG interview in 1973) and mentioned the failed proposal as happening in 1985 (the year Daniel is turned in the books) also gives me hope that essentially the show is going to do a book canon divergence thing where, instead of young Daniel's turning, we get the breakup/mindwipe thing and we see an alternate universe where Daniel lives his full life.

Finally, purely from a storytelling point of view, I think objectively the only completely satisfying way to show Daniel and Armand's relationship is if past-DM happened. I make it no secret that I am a romance girlie (in fact I am writing my PhD dissertation on a niche subgenre of popular romance), and I have posted before about how the Devil's Minion chapter meets all the genre requirements for a romance. The second chance romance trope (for those who don't know) is a super fun trope in which a pair of exes finally get their second shot at a happily ever after. This trope often involves older protagonists purely because of the whole second chance thing. The show version of Devil's Minion TO ME has all the hallmarks of a second-chance romance and I will shout about it unapologetically!! Also speaking of tropes, never forget that the amnesia plotline is an EXTREMELY popular telenovela trope.

I'm not gonna get to into all the reasons why I think past-DM happened (because there's plenty of posts and analyses out there and you didn't even ask for that lol). But I do think the main reason we've seen a lot of Eric/Assad and not really a whole lot of Luke/Assad is because Luke is a walking, living, breathing spoiler. While we are all choosing to believe past-DM happened it still isn't show confirmed and if they start parading Luke around too much, then that's basically confirmation that they're doing past-DM because why the fuck else would they pay to drag him back if they weren't?

I also think they'd be crazy to not keep utilising him, because he is so incredible (also, the more I think about it the more I think that the very idea of setting this as a second interview and showing young Daniel at all leads me to believe in past-DM, simply because showing the young/old Daniel dichotomy probably wasn't even 100% necessary to the broader storyline if past-DM didn't happen).

I'm so sorry, this reply totally got away from me haha. But I hope it made sense and injected some hope!

#interview with the vampire #iwtv #amc iwtv #daniel molloy #amc interview with the vampire #the vampire armand #amc immortal universe #devil's minion #armandaniel #iwtv speculation #iwtv spoilers #devils minion spoilers #devils minion theory

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overlordraax · 3 days ago

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Someone on youtube called me a fake TF fan cos I said I hate Skybound which lmao

#Raax fact #Transformers #I do hate it though #the moment they killed Skyfire in the first issue I knew this series would happy for to sacrifice characters for shock value death #and all the notes I've been shown haven't proven me wrong #so I'm not reading until a new writer comes along and retcons half the stuff I don't like lol #which will happen because this is an American comic series #if the animated series doesn't kill Sky off in episode 1 and actually bothers to utilise his character I'll consider watching it #btw I know Skyfire is alive but considering where he's ended up if he had died it wouldn't have changed the plot at all #DWJ said that was his original plan but hasbro said no #considering he's just left the character as a hollow shell it doesn't feel like he made major changes to his plans

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allhailbuckybarnes · 4 hours ago

Text

the love confession

summary: bob can’t stand it. you’re just too fucking pretty. you distract him, you make every horrible, ugly thought dissipate. he craves it. he knows you, and you know him. it feels right, and his feelings are so strong he doesn’t know what to do anymore. he has no idea that you feel the same. that you ache for his comfort, for his feelings to reflect your own.

but a week of strained normalcy, a build up of emotional tension, and a failed mission lead to more than innocent, friendly thoughts. bob’s limits are reached on waiting for the right damn moment.

he has to tell you. you want to tell him. let’s watch each of you try ;)

warnings: fluff/smut, longing, pining, some use of y/n, dirty talk, unprotected p in v sex, dirty thoughts, tension, body worship, bob is down bad, bob is a MAN, you are just as down bad, yelena is number one supporter, idiots in love, confusion, jealousy, a pinch of angst, just playing: so so much angst, possessive bob, oral sex (m&f receiving), canon-typical violence, nightmares, anger, hurt/comfort, reader gets hurt badly (more on that later), bob is not okay, fear, love, please just kiss alr you two

authors note: okay guys, this is action packed. buckle up and bring your tissues. also… power reveal for reader!! and some backstory!!! yay I missed action scenes.

friday - the crucifixion (chapter five)

Everything was wrong from the start. For instance, it began with the fact that you’d been called on a Hydra mission in the middle of the night. For another, half of the team was barely awake, and everyone was giving you looks.

You and Bob had walked in together, hand in hand, and it lit up your newfound relationship like a Christmas tree. Everyone's eyes followed you, making you breathe a little quicker. You were happy, giddy in fact, but both of you buried that for later as Walker debriefed the mission.

“Alright, since Buck’s in Germany on a solo mission for Val, we are down a man. That means no waiting around in the Quinjet; no quick exits.”

Your throat tightened, you had always had an escape plan on missions, that safety blanket was now gone.

Bob squeezed your hand a little tighter. He knew that worried you, especially when it came to an organization as terrifying as Hydra.

What they’d done to you, to Bucky. It haunted his nightmares just imagining it. But you, you never talked about it. Unlike Bucky, you hadn’t healed it all or put it behind you.

Bucky warned the team to leave it, that no amount of time or consolation would help. His not being here with you was staggering for your mental state. Bob just hoped you could hang on for him.

Just get through the mission, sweetheart.

“Bob, earth to Bob,” Walker grumbled, pulling Bobby from his thoughts, “right, so, as I was saying: We don’t know how many of them there are, so we need to split up to infiltrate both sides. That means Bob, Y/n, and I will take the south side. The rest will take the north. We need to get in, break down the operation, and quickly get out before they call for backup.”

Everyone’s eyes drift, and a silent exhaustion sweeps over the crew. You bury your head in your hands with exasperation.

This is so fucked already.

Walker rubs his eyes, “Listen, guys, I know we’re all tired, but we’ve gotta be alert. Hydra will crush us if we aren’t.” Alexei straightens up slightly, and you slouch all the more.

Your head is spinning, and you feel like crying from the overwhelming day/night you’ve had. You lay your head on Bob’s shoulder, and his hand on your thigh tightens. But you let your eyes glaze over with the familiar blue light of your powers. He notices and takes his hand off, letting you settle into your energy.

The jet lands, and you group up with your infiltration teams. You strap your guns to your belt, reloading them and checking the safety off. Bob raises his fingers to his temples, and a faint glow slowly creeps beneath his irises.

Walker stretches his arms, unlatching his shield from his back strap. He scratches his beard, slipping his helmet on, and nods to you both.

Here we go.

Your eyes shine a deep cerulean, and you flex your fingers. The heat in your veins burns deep in your chest. You follow Bob and John to the gate by the south entrance. Walker seems to take charge, covering corners and being the one to initially engage.

He raises his shield, banging it down on the lock and pulling the chain.

Bob ducks as Walker throws the chain of the lock behind him carelessly, “Hey, watch it, Walker.” Walker just grunts and opens the rickety fence.

When he reaches an entrance, Walker lifts his ear to the door. Super soldier hearing… of course.

He looks at both of you, nodding. John flips, kicking the door down with a steady foot. The silence of the surrounding room and the clash of the metal door hitting the ground startle you. The echo resonates deep in your ears.

It was empty.

Walker heads inside, Bob following suit, making sure that you follow behind by tugging your hand in the slightest comfort. You take in the sight around you as you make your way through the doorway, dodging the useless piece of metal that lies on the ground.

The warehouse seemed relatively familiar, average in size and quality. The rows of weapons in this portion glistened in their new packages, neatly kept and fitted.

John curses to himself at the sheer amount of equipment they could’ve taken. But it seems that nothing is missing from this end of the warehouse.

Walker quickly checks in with Yelena on comms. Her crackled voice makes out, “Nothing over here, just some stolen gear, and a door ajar. It’s headed your way, so watch it, guys.”

Bob has wandered to the fourth row of tactical gear and file cabinets, and he gasps.

“Guys, fuck, these drawers are a mess.”

You quickly stride over, Walker in tow, and you pick up a stray paper. Walker heads to Bob, inspecting the file cabinet on your three.

You glance down at the crumpled paper, a stapler hole is missing- they got the rest of the information, maybe a packet? The red stamped confidential paper reads:

PROJECT #01873: ANGEL OF DEATH- HYDRA OP MISSION. FAILED AND RELEASED- PICKED UP BY SHEILD PRE-SNAP. POWERS INCLUDE BLUE FLAME MANIPULATION, TELEPATHY, AND FLIGHT…

It makes your heart drop. This was your file, why the fuck had they stolen your file. Your hands shake. Your heart pounds.

Your eyes lose their vibrant blue, and you falter.

“Guys-?”

Bad fucking timing.

A shot rings out, and suddenly you're on the floor. A loud boom rings in your ears, and everything is hot. Your eyes are spotty, and you can’t see.

You hear Bob yell, panicked and pained, “Y/N, ARE YOU THERE? Fuck! Walker, help me get this off me. Fuck, Y/N!” He wasn’t far, but something was separating you both.

You feel lightheaded, and you rest your head against the cold pavement.

Everything beats at a slow hum.

Your side burns, and the crimson of your new wound seeps into the stone beside you.

You hope Bob is okay.

“Bob…”

Walker grunts to the right of you. His shield is nowhere in sight.

Men in black surround you, dragging you by the arms. Their faces are hidden beneath glossy masks.

Your eyes fail you as you try to bring your power to them. All you can do is burn the hand of one of the guards, who curses and punches you square in the jaw. The sting almost takes you out.

“Yelena, your six! Watch it! Where’s Y/N? I need eyes on her NOW!” A gruff voice screams from a distance. Your head is pounding, and you can’t move your muscles.

Everything about this is shitty.

You hear gunshots and feel the familiar heat of Bob’s powers nearby, but he is still too far to reach. The sting in your side grows, making you lose your breath.

Too far to save you.

Fuck, Bob I need you.

“Y/n, baby, I’m coming, hang on!” Bob’s voice rings out, almost as if he heard you, beyond the continuous pop of bullets. You hear him grunt in pain, and your heart drops to the floor.

“Fuck! Bob’s down, guys!” Someone, a girl, yells.

Bob no. Not Bobby. No, no, no!

The men drag you to an exit, stuffing you into a box, a goddamn box, and they shut the lid.

Fuck, no, no no no. Not this again. Oh god. Oh god, please help me.

Your prayers were useless; you were stuck. Going nowhere.

You were used to this kind of torture. These men had to know. Whoever had planned this wasn’t new. They knew your weakness.

It made your throat dry, and your eyes well with tears. The isolation drained you. The tight space riddled you with fear. You trembled, sobbing quietly.

Pathetic.

Your hands scraped against the sides of the metal. They couldn’t do this, not again. You wouldn’t go back. Fuck. You couldn’t. They can’t hurt you. They can’t. Not again. Not again.

Somebody. Please.

You needed to get out, and fast. Or else, they could do it again. You ache in pain, twitching.

They could make you into their pet. Their weapon. The angel of death.

A woman who was behind you, a woman who killed more men than anyone in Hydra's history alone.

When Cap rescued Bucky, you were left behind, the only one who could save Hydra’s skin. You were theirs; they only needed the password.

Old locks still open.

Your heart pounded, and you felt the screech of tires beneath you. It was useless. The blood of your gunshot wound pools beside you, traveling around the fabric of your suit.

Hydra had its weapon again. You.

You feel like you will pass out from fear and exhaustion. The blood steadily flowing from your abdomen reminds you of your failure.

Bobby. Please be okay. Come back for me.

Your head rested against the bottom of the vibranium container.

Everything goes black.

Shit shit shit! Fuck.

Bob sobbed raggedly into his hands. Walker was patching up his arm, but Bob couldn’t feel the sting of the stab wound.

He was too busy crying and raging.

He failed you. The team failed you.

Yelena rubbed his back, cautiously. Her jaw was set in a firm click. She looked around the Quinjet.

Ava and Alexei were on the cameras, desperately watching for any sign of your exit. All they saw was gear being moved. Loads of metal boxes holding god knows what were thrown into various vans.

But you? It was like you’d disappeared.

“Any luck, guys?” Yelena called out. Walking towards them.

“No, there’s not a trace of her,” Ava grunted angrily. If Bucky had been here, everything would’ve gone better.

He knew Hydra better than any of them.

The plan was to hurry back to base, intercept Bucky, debrief, and plan to get you back.

Yelena was ready to bargain. She was desperate to get you home.

Walker and Bob were ready to kill.

Ava and Alexei just wanted a break from this shit. But they wanted to attack Hydra for what they’d taken from the team.

God Bucky was going to be pissed.

Bob sat up. His eyes were wide with the possible revelation.

“Guys! Check the boxes. God fucking damn it, she’s in one.”

Walker grumbles, “In a box? Why?” He rubs his temple, a bruise forming.

Bob gulps in pure agony, “When Hydra had her… they used. They used to put her in one. When- when she didn’t follow through with orders.” He cries, slamming a palm to his forehead.

God, this was so bad. Were you hurt? Please, baby, hang on. I’m coming back.

The team takes a shallow breath. Tears flow down Bob’s face as the realization kicks in.

“We need Bucky,” he whispers.

It was true. Bucky could handle this better than anyone.

“I’ll get him on the line,” Ava said, without a second thought, and she walked to the comms.

The rest of the team is shocked. Walker pauses, patching up Bob, and rubs his beard. Yelena sits down and buries her head in her palms. Alexei shamelessly tries to lighten the mood, earning him glares from Yelena and Walker.

Bob pays this no mind; he’s too busy trying not to fall into despair.

Instead, he plans multiple ways to murder the men who took you. Every part of him feels pulled apart.

I’ll get you back.

The team strides into the debrief room hurriedly. Yelena slaps herself down into a chair, opening a laptop with access to major intel on the warehouse.

Ava and Walker step in, sitting at the table, setting their helmets down on the wood. Bob takes a chair near the exit, sitting slowly. He has pulled himself together enough to work on a plan.

Alexei sits back in his chair, popping his back and neck. His brows are strung high, and he taps his foot impatiently.

“Where’s Buck?”

“I sent him an SOS message, he intercepted it, and is on his way back now,” Ava says, pulling a foot up into her lap and massaging her muscles.

“Well why the fuck are we sitting around?” Bob strains, his hands shaking. His eyes are wild.

“We won’t be any help to her if we aren’t prepared, Bob,” Walker argues. He sits up and tightens a fist on the table. The wood groans underneath the tension.

Valentina’s voice rings out over the intercom, “Team? I need a debrief stat. The press is going wild over this coverage!” Her dumbass didn’t even know you were captured.

“Not fucking now, Val!” Yelena yells, grunting in frustration at the laptop. Bucky needed to get back and fast.

"Alright fine, but I want a file on my desk by tomorrow at 8:00 am sharp!" Val snips. The beep of the intercom indicates that she isn't listening in anymore.

Walker unclips his gun belt, "So what are we now? Sitting ducks?!" He pushes his chair out and stands.

Bob follows, his head pounds, "I can't do this." He has had enough; he needs to find you. "Where's the nearest computer that I can access?"

Yelena slides hers over, "Here, lover boy, I'm going to try and contact Bucky." She stands, stretching her arms up, and heads to the door. Ava goes with her, mumbling a need for food.

That, of course, leaves Alexei to follow.

Walker watches Bob sign in to the computer, hands shaking over the keys.

"Bob, hey man. Take a breath," he starts, grabbing the laptop and taking a seat next to him.

"I'll type, you tell me all you know, okay?" He softly grumbles, and Bob nods appreciatively. He buries his head in his hands and rubs at his eyelids.

"Alright, Bobby, tell me about Y/n's time at Hydra."

Everything was frigid, you're strapped with the familiar vibranium holds you once knew a lifetime ago. Power-binding cuffs wrap around your limbs, leaving you defenseless.

Headgear with pulse shockers wraps around your temples and runs down the length of your spine.

You've been stripped to your underwear, splashed with water enough that your nipples pierce through the fabric of your sports bra, and you shiver viciously.

A shock runs through you every once in a while, reminding you to never calm your nerves. The doctor who watches you smirks every time he presses the button. You glare at him weakly.

After enough torture and cussing at them to stop, you're reduced to a blubbering mess, angry at yourself for your easy breaking. The pain rocks every sense in your body.

They question you, and you stay silent.

Shock.

They repeat your code. You ignore it.

Shock.

You whine, they shock you, it's continuous. You can't feel your back muscles, and instead feel the sores form, creating a pattern of raw bumps that you never were able to heal. They unlatch the restraints, grabbing you and ripping you from the table.

You're led down a long hall with various rooms. They throw you into one, it's dark, and the only light comes through a small window on the door. You grunt as your back hits the ground, screaming in pain at the feeling of the hard floor on your sore back.

You crawl to the wall, using it to brace yourself as you stand on shaking legs. Your head thrums, beating wildly in pain. The shock of your nerves still makes you twitch.

You wail and huff angrily, letting out a pained gasp of desperation.

God, guys, where are you?

Two guards open the door with a fast shove. You kick to get away from them, but they grab you, raising a gun and knocking you out cold with the handle.

They carry your unconscious body to an interrogation room, tying you to the chair.

Across from you sits a familiar face.

Grant Ward smiles, twirling his knife through his fingers.

"How long till my girl wakes up, fellas?" He smirks.

authors note: how abt dem apples? anyways... poor bobby 😭. i am so enjoying writing this. i hope you are enjoying the plot. i can't wait for the next chapter! thank you sm for reading! commenting and reblogging save fanfic writers' lives! thank u sm! love u all!

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