#and i only remember her apologizing once???

[yunalinwrites]

one of my fav kdramas (called youre beautiful) is abt a girl joining a boy band and pretending to be a boy ohshc style except her fellow members dont know and she has to somehow live with them while hiding it 😭 it's so wattpad i love

so imagine being fem!reader sharing a dorm with the saja boys while trying not to get found out

of course u cant hide forever tho so this is how i think you'd get found out and how they'd react:

❓ mystery knew from the start. you didnt realize he was scrutinizing you so closely bc of them fuck ass bangs but from the day you met he could tell just by looking at you. but, much like he does about everything, he kept quiet because he didnt want to freak you out. he found it cute though, every time you'd slip up and get all flustered trying to cover up why you were staring at the dresses at the mall or why you were caught buying pads. so, he'd just smile, pat your head, and calmly help you make excuses. if you walk into the wrong room at the wrong time he'll quietly direct you to a gender neutral bathroom or drape a towel over your eyes whenever the guys got too... carefree in the locker room. lowk helps you hide it from the other members bc he likes it being his little secret

🍼 baby also found out pretty early but also like not really? he walked in on you in the bathroom once and was like "mb" and then he thought about it and was like "wait a sec..." but then he just shrugged it off. and since then for a while in the back of his head he would catch the way you walk or the way you sit or the way your eyelashes look against your cheek and for a split second would think like "is he a chick?" but he never really came to a conclusion bc he just dont gaf. dude or not he treats you pretty much the same. once everyone else starts figuring it out tho thats when he starts acknowledging it. now that everyone else seems to treat you differently as a girl, he starts questioning how to feel or act around you...

💪 abby started rough housing with the other boys and tried to pull you in. lifted you up and not only were you lighter than he expected, your bodies were right up against each other. you did your best to bind your tits down but when you were chest to chest like this it was still noticeable. he awkwardly puts you down and scratches the back of his neck, mumbling an apology. for the next few days his brain is fried thinking about it. he never verbally acknowledges it but he starts being super gentle around you and treating you like you're fragile. feels the need to protect you physically, even if its against the other boys. always keeping watch to make sure they're gentle with you as well.

✨ jinu overhears you out yourself on the phone somehow and is so mad and so flustered at the same time. he's afraid you're going to be a liability if the fans find out and its gonna be a pain to hide but behind all that anger he's just scared of women fr. blushes every time he remembers you're a girl. every time you end up together alone in the living room or catch each other in the hallway, brushing each others shoulders in the slightest, he turns bright red and freaks tf out. somehow though he finds it easier to connect with you emotionally as a girl. with other guys it sometimes feels weird to be vulnerable, but you don't seem to have that shame at all. he admires it. gwi ma probably forced you into this situation so he empathizes with you.

🫶 romance liked to ask you all the time about your love life. asking what your type is, ideal date, dream wedding, do you want kids, etc. you figured it would be safest to just pretend you were a straight dude who liked girls. he wouldnt have cared though. he was starting to feel a little something for you even before you revealed yourself as a girl but refrained from going down that route to stay professional. but when you do reveal yourself as a girl it starts to get even harder to keep that boundary.

🥤 overall once they figure it out none of them tell each other or really say it aloud bc of the implications it has. but they all show it through actions like making sure you're fed and hydrated, letting you use the shower first, asking you if you need a break during rehearsal, etc. but trust, once they all start offering to help you at the same time--like all of them reaching to lend you their marker during fan signings when yours goes dry or surrounding you with 5 different choices of hoodie when you mention you're cold--they start getting real jealous and possessive real soon; they all want to be the one and only you rely on.

eventually though when they all reveal that they all know and everyone's on the same page, they start working together to protect you. all 5 of them wrapped around ur finger 😋 but still fighting for your attention

a/n: ugh i wish i had time/energy to do this properly along w all my other fics for kpdh (this movie has taken over my life) but idk i prob wont LOLL if anyone else wants to build off of this plz go ahead and tag me

[moonstruckme]

Hello Mae!! I loooovveee your fics!!

I'm feeling rather sick right now, so I wondering if you could write EMT!Marauders x Sick!Reader (vomiting, passing out, high fever etc)

If not then that's ok, thanks!

Thanks for requesting!

cw: vomit mention (past tense), reader has a high fever but isn't like super super out of it (though it's mentioned some of her memories are a bit hazy)

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

The voices start out in your dreams. Low, indistinct murmurings, in voices that you know instinctively are safe. They’re warm enough to cuddle into like extra blankets. So, you don’t feel particularly inclined to rouse until something starts rubbing your cheek. 

Your lashes peel apart like they’ve been stuck together with glue in your sleep. It’s a herculean effort. Worth it to find Remus on the other side, though. 

“Hi,” he murmurs, thumb still stroking your cheek. 

“Hi,” you whisper back. 

Remus smiles—it’s one of your favorites from him, so tender it’s almost shy, like he doesn’t want anyone to see—and ducks down to kiss the corner of your mouth. Dutifully missing your lips, as your boyfriends have been sentenced to do for the past couple of days. You blink fuzzily. The hall light is on, illuminating dimly your otherwise dark bedroom and Sirius and James peeling off their uniforms. Sirius is typing something into his phone, while James watches you out of the corner of his eye, grinning when he catches you looking. 

It’s possible you’ll never not flush when your boyfriend grins at you while stepping out of his trousers. This may be a life sentence. 

“How are you feeling?” Remus asks. 

You make a sort of humming sound. You’re sick of feeling sorry for yourself and besides that you’re running out of adjectives. First it had been not right, then not very well, then plainly bad. Now you feel distinctly in worse territory, but to voice that feels too much a plea for pitying treatment, and you won’t do it. 

Remus murmurs, “Yeah?” and tsks like he hears it anyway. He lays a hand over your forehead, frowning. 

“What time is it?” you ask. 

“Early,” James says, like an apology. “We just got in.” 

You nod like this is expected. It’s not unusual for your boyfriends to come home from a long shift in the early hours of the morning, but truthfully, you don’t remember exactly when they’d left. You were in a sort of feverish, half-asleep state for most of the evening. 

“Open,” Remus prompts softly. You do, and he nudges a thermometer into your mouth, smoothing some hairs away from your face once he’s done. He looks worried. So many sweet, tender touches. It’d be enough to make you dizzy even if you were fully conscious. 

“Is she warmer?” Sirius asks. 

“I think so,” says Remus. 

James makes a sad puppy noise and flops onto the bed, now in his underwear. “I’m sorry, lovie,” he whines, practically crawling on top of you to put his face in your stomach. “It’s shit to be poorly for so long. Have you been sick again since we left?”

You have to think about it, but shake your head. This seems to satisfy James somewhat. 

“Did you drink your fluids?” Sirius asks. You nod this time. He walks over to the water bottle on the nightstand, giving it an experimental shake. “Still feels full.” 

Remus’ lips twitch at whatever look crosses your face. The thermometer beeps, and he pulls it from your mouth. 

“I drank some,” you defend yourself. 

Sirius gives you a playful reprimanding look, but then his attention is Remus’ as Remus pulls the thermometer closer. “Thirty-nine point seven.” He sighs, bringing his hand to your head again. He pets your hair. “Sweetheart…” 

“Nothing hurts, still?” James asks you. 

“No,” you mumble, contrite. You feel like you’re disappointing them. 

Sirius crouches by the bed, leaning forward to give you a pillowy soft kiss on your forehead. He’s thrown on an old t-shirt of Remus’, worn and with holes in the soft fabric. “It’s okay, baby. It’s not your fault; you’ve always been hot, it’s only getting worse.” 

You give him a dry look. That joke got old within the first day of your fever, but the way he delivers it so solemnly now does make a smile tug at your lips. Sirius bumps his nose into your temple teasingly. 

“Might’ve helped if you drank your fluids, though.” 

“Fuck off,” you murmur. Really, you love having him so close, and Sirius seems to know this. His expression is smug as he gives you another conciliating kiss. 

Remus is looking down at the both of you like you’re his favorite annoyances. “I think it’s time to go to hospital,” he determines. 

You frown. “But you just came from there.” 

“Ugh, I know,” Sirius groans. “The things we do for you, hm?” 

“You don’t seem to be improving,” Remus says. “We need to get a better idea of what this is.” 

“Can’t it just be a stomach bug?” you sulk. 

He hums, sweeping his thumb over your forehead. It’s warm and calloused. “It’d be nice if it was,” he says, “but we ought to know for sure. And this doesn’t quite fit the parameters of a regular stomach bug, dovey.” 

“It’d be helpful to have some bloodwork done,” James agrees, sitting up a bit to prop his chin on your stomach. 

“Bloodwork?” you repeat. 

“I sure fucking hope it does,” quips Sirius. When you still look trepidatious, he laughs and smooches your cheek. “You’ll be fine, my love. We’ll take good care of you.” 

“The best care,” James seconds, sitting up on his haunches to un-pin your stomach from the bed. “C’mon, let’s get up.” 

You eye all three of your boyfriends, but begin sitting up slowly. “You just got home. You really want to go back to work at” —you glance at the clock on your nightstand— “six thirty in the morning?” 

“That’s exactly what we want to do. You’re so smart, baby.” Sirius gives your cheek a pat. You pout at him in response; your head hurts now that you’re upright. “Anyway, I texted Mary at St. Bart’s, and she said we can get in if we go now.” 

Remus kisses Sirius’ head in silent thanks as James gets up to dig through a drawer of Remus’ jumpers for you both to put on. 

“We just love work so much,” he jokes, tossing you one. Sirius catches it before it can hit you. “We can hardly stay away, you know? Plus, bring your girlfriend to work day is a great time, I hear.” 

“So fun,” you sigh, resigned. 

Sirius smiles softly at you as he pulls Remus’ jumper over your head. “That’s the spirit.”

[ghostwitchboy]

My ex would constantly downplay the things I was most excited for when starting hrt. She explained it away as a trauma response to bad experiences in the past. That was fair to a certain degree, they were genuinely traumatic events, and no one can control what becomes a trigger.

But did she need to remind me that she might start associating me with monsters once hrt starts working and changing my voice (because all transmen sound the same to her) EVERY TIME I said I was looking forward to my main source of dysphoria potentially being lessened? Did she need to tack on "Hopefully you'll still be attractive/xyz" whenever I talked about things I was looking forward to in my transition? Did she need to remind me that I might just be stuck being a very pretty, feminine afab person for a very long time and I might just have to be okay with that?

No. Obviously not.

I had thought that, because we were both transitioning, we'd both support each other's transition like we said we did. That she'd hear the awful things she'd say about herself, see all the ways I tried to encourage her and remind her that I loved her for her, not for the man her family wanted her to be, and that we wouldn't be alone in our transitions. But she ended up being the only one who wasn't alone.

I got used to the concept of actual change in my transition being a bad thing, and I got used to it being a sword of damocles very quickly. Something that's really easy with near-constant reminders from literally everyone you talk to daily that you'll never be what they actually want. People who only respect your identity as long as it doesn't make them uncomfortable, as long as they can put caveats and emergency vetos and stops on it.

And then I broke up with her. There were other problems and theose problems had been present for years, and they weren't even tied to gender.

But I suddenly no longer had that very loud, very important voice drowning out mine. I could think. There weren't consequences to me expressing how I felt. I could be myself without caveats.

And then I met my current partner. And they celebrate my transition with me. I remember the first time I apologized for liking the more masculine form my body was starting to take and them reacting with confusion. Because they loved it too. They've been my biggest support and they've not only accepted my transition as a part of me, but help me be actively exited for it. They love parts of me I didn't know were possible to love and all done so immediately and without me begging them to see the virtue in it.

Parts of myself that I have always been self conscious of, they adore, and they do so loudly and with their full chest. I have never been allowed this amount of autonomy before, to the point I don't know what to do when I don't have to triple check before making a decision, which sometimes causes anxiety.

But I'm the happiest I've ever been in my life. I'm the most loved I've ever been in my life.

If you're with a partner and they say they'll leave you if you transition, if you start hrt, if you present your gender a specific way, or if your body changes a certain way, leave.

You deserve to be yourself. You deserve to be happy as yourself. You deserve to be loved as yourself. You deserve nothing less, no caveats, no vetos.

“but my girlfriend said she’d break up with me if I started hrt…” FUCKING LEAVE HER THEN!!

[wobblingjello]

aughhh the spencer angst <\\3 I adore the way you write ur fics…if ur reqs r open could I possibly recommend spencer x reader who’s father is very very VERY similar to house md.

basically reader decides to take a very different career than her father, and would become a lawyer that often worked with the bau.

spencer and reader have been in a relationship for quite some time, so reader invited him to meet their father

OR

spencer is in the hospital for whatever reason and happens to meet their father

Hey! This is definitely not exactly like your request, but I actually already had a WIP about Spencer in the hospital situation even before the request, then I just added your suggestion on meeting the reader’s father part. I hope you like this! ^^

— Bloodline & Bullet Wound

Summary: You’ve been dating Spencer for quite some time, and it was only natural for your parents to start asking when they’d get to meet your “mysterious” boyfriend. However, you never expected that the first encounter between your dad and Spencer would be in the operating room. OR Spencer was shot, and your dad was the surgeon who led the surgery.

Genre: General, with a bit of humor (?)

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3011

Dating Dr. Spencer Reid was not for the weak. He was very clear about how important his job was for him since the second date, as if he was giving you an out before things got serious between the two of you. Your job might not be as significant as his was, but as someone who was also passionate about your job, you understood where the concerns came from.

On top of his unpredictable work schedule that would take him miles away from you most of the time, the very same job made you live in constant fear that something terrible could happen to him at any time. So, no, it wasn’t the work schedule that worried you the most, but the awfulness that came with the job.

In the span of 7 months you’ve been dating him, every so often, you’d spot new bruises and scars on his body. Spencer knew how you felt whenever you saw those wounds. He’d tell you those were minor wounds, and the most important part was he made it home safe.

He rarely talked about the cases they worked on, however, he always insisted that having you in his apartment when he came back helped a lot. Like the current case they were working on, for example. Three days ago, Spencer had informed you that it was a local case, in which he could go back to his own apartment every night. So, you’ve been staying at his place for the last three days.

Even when working on a local case, there was no guarantee that he’d come home at normal hours. Yesterday, he was back around 11 PM, and went back to work so early in the morning. He apologized for disturbing your sleep whenever he went in and out of his apartment, but of course you never held it against him.

Early this evening he texted you that he’d most likely stay late at the office again, and you didn’t have to wait up for him. You two texted each other a few more times before Spencer was needed to go back to the case. Then you once again fell asleep in his bed alone.

A loud ringing from your phone woke you up in the middle of the night. You blindly reached your phone on the bedside table, and answered it without even bothering to check the ID. JJ’s voice on the other side of the line woke you up instantly.

“Hey. I’m so sorry for calling you this late.”

You could feel the tightness in your chest. “JJ, what’s going on?”

“Spence was shot. I haven’t heard further details since the MET brought him to the hospital. All I know is that they need to do surgery on him.”

Your heart sank to the bottom of your stomach at her statement.

Spencer.

Hospital.

Surgery.

Oh, God. Your worst nightmare has become reality. Your brain tried to remember the last thing you two talked about before you went to bed. Nothing. You couldn’t remember anything. What if you said something bad to him?

“Hello? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, sorry.” If she caught the shakiness in your voice, then she didn’t mention it.

“I’ll send you the details of the hospital. Garcia and Matt are already on their way there. You should contact them when you arrive. The rest of us will meet you at the hospital once we wrap things up in the crime scene. Please be careful.”

You threw on the sweatpants and hoodie, grabbed your purse and key, then rushed out of his apartment.

As you turned on the engine of your car, you keyed in the address of the hospital to the GPS. It would only take you approximately an hour to get there. If you drove close to the speed limit, while adding the probability of how vacant the street was at almost 1 AM, you could definitely make it less than an hour. 

Once your car hit the road, thankfully, there was almost no other car anywhere in sight. You dared yourself to drive as fast as you could while still being careful. The last thing you wanted was to be in an accident while Spencer was fighting for his life in the operating room.

Just like you had predicted, you made it to the hospital in under an hour. You immediately called Penelope as you walked out of the parking lot. She waited for you at the lobby, and as soon as she saw you, she was all over you — trying to assure you that Spencer would be alright, that he’d make it out alive. You appreciated her kindness, really, but right now, your mind was incapable of forming positive thoughts. No, your mind went completely blank after that phone call with JJ. Honestly, it was a miracle that you managed to get to the hospital safely.

Once the two of you walked to the waiting area, you saw Matt facing the operating room. As if he sensed another presence in the room, perhaps he did, he was an agent after all, he turned around. He looked relieved when he saw you made it to the hospital just fine. He gestured to you and Penelope to sit on the nearest 3-seat chair. 

On your left, Matt briefed you the situation as best as he could given how shaken you currently were. Penelope, sitting on your right, tried to comfort you by squeezing your hands.

It was a horrible situation. The team had figured out there were two UnSubs in this case. By the time the team cornered one of the UnSub in their hiding place, they were still trying to talk him out of the situation — hopefully they could take both UnSubs alive. As they tried to make him surrender with no violence, in some sick twisted way, the partner walked right to that situation. Not very clever of him, honestly. The team also had figured out that one of the UnSubs was messier than the other. Once the partner realized there was no way out for both of them, he started shooting. Unfortunately, Spencer, who stood the closest to the other UnSub, was shot. Eventually, both UnSubs were dead.

It all happened in a blink of an eye. Once the situation was cleared, Rossi immediately instructed the EMT to get into the crime scene. The EMT left to bring Spencer to the hospital as fast as they got in. Tara called Matt, who stayed in the office with Penelope at that time, and told them to go to the hospital. At the same time, JJ called you, and basically said the same thing.

For a split second, you selfishly wished Spencer had stayed at the office too, so none of this would have happened to him.

The rest of the team arrived at the hospital almost 30 minutes later. They all look exhausted, like they all could crash out any time soon. You spotted dried blood on Emily’s shirt — wondering if that was Spencer’s. You felt a twist in the bottom of your stomach just from the thought of it.

In the waiting area, the BAU team took turns to take a quick rest. It seemed uncomfortable given how small the 3-seat chairs were. At some point, Matt and JJ excused themselves to go home, which understandable since they had their own families.

The waiting time felt like eternity for you. Some of Spencer’s team members had told you to take some rest, but you refused to do so. You were afraid you wouldn’t be awake by the time the surgery was done. 

What was exactly happening inside the operating room? How long would it take for them to finish the surgery?

By the time it marked the 3 hours, someone walked out of the operating room. Everyone in the waiting area instantly got on their feet. The moment the surgeon took off his mask, your mouth was wide open.

“Dad!?”

He was equally surprised at the sight of you. “Muffin? What are you doing here?”

Your nose scrunched at his term of endearment. “Um, I’m Spencer’s emergency contact?” That came out more like a question than an answer.

“That —” He dramatically pointed out to the direction of the operating room. “— is your boyfriend?”

The BAU team was simultaneously shocked and amused at the unexpected family reunion. They intently listened to the exchange while looking back and forth at the father-daughter duo. Your mind was solely focused on Spencer the entire time, you completely forgot this was also the hospital your dad worked at.

You heard Emily cleared her throat at your right. “As much as I enjoy this little family reunion, can you please give us an update on Reid’s condition?” She addressed your dad.

“Right. We’ll circle back to this later, Muffin.” Then he turned to face Emily. “He lost a lot of blood. It was touch and go there for a while. If he was shot one millimeter to the left, he probably wouldn’t make it. It was a miracle, really. He still needs to recover for another few days, but he’ll be able to walk out of here just fine.”

“Can we see him?” This time, it was Luke who asked the question.

“Not right now. I’ll recommend you to see him later in the next few hours.” Then he looked directly at you. “That applies to you too.” You were about to complain when he stopped you. “Go home. Get some rest. I’ll personally call you when he wakes up.”

One by one the members of the BAU said their thank you to your dad, then left the hospital. They deserved that rest. You lingered in the waiting area a bit longer, wanting to have a private conversation with your dad. It seemed he also had the same thought, because he hadn’t moved from his position.

You walked up to your dad, and immediately hugged him. The moment he hugged you back, it felt like you finally could breathe again. Without you even realizing it, the tears started falling down your cheeks.

“You saved his life. Thank you, Dad.” Your voice was barely audible.

“I can’t believe I just performed a surgery on your boyfriend. Your mom will probably be mad at me if she finds out that I had met him without her.”

You knew the last part was him trying to lighten up your mood. “She’ll live. But I’m sure she’ll ask again for that dinner sooner than later.”

He chuckled at that. “That she will.” He released you from the hug, but put his hands on your shoulders. “Seriously, go home. I promise I’ll call you.”

You hugged your dad one more time before leaving the hospital.

If there was one thing that you felt grateful for today, it was the fact that it was Sunday. You didn’t even realize how tired you were until you were back to Spencer’s apartment. You couldn’t imagine if you had to go to work after what just happened. God, imagine how exhausted his colleagues were right now. You were sure you would fall asleep straight away the moment you touched the bed.

The ringing from your phone once again woke you up. This time, you checked the caller before answering. Your dad.

“Hey, Muffin. Did you actually get some sleep?” His don’t-lie-to-me tone was as clear as the sky outside.

You chuckled at his question. “I did, thank you for asking, Dad. Is he awake?” Now, you hesitantly asked him.

“Yes. He just woke up. The nurses are checking on him, but he can have visitors now. I’m pretty sure someone from the administration had contacted one of his colleagues, but maybe you want to inform them as well.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll do that.” You went quiet for a beat or two, then continued. “Thank you, again, Dad. I love you. I’ll see you later at the hospital.”

“I love you too, kiddo. Drive safely.”

You checked the time on your phone, past 10 AM. Well, you definitely had better sleep before, but considering the circumstances, it wasn’t that bad. This time around, you took your time to get ready before leaving. You knew Spencer wouldn’t mind if you came to the hospital looking like someone who just rolled out of the bed, but you intended to spend some time with your dad too, so you wanted to look at least decent enough. The hospital was still his workplace after all.

As you grabbed your purse and key, your stomach let out an embarrassing loud noise. Alright, making a quick pit stop to the patisserie wouldn’t hurt. Perhaps bought something for your dad too while you were at it.

Before you left the apartment, you sent a message to Emily, updating her on Spencer’s condition, while also informing her that you were on the way to the hospital. You were sure she’d pass along the information to the rest of the team.

When you arrived at the hospital, you didn’t go to Spencer’s room immediately. Instead, you called your dad and asked where he was. You wanted to give him a bag full of freshly baked pastries you bought at your favorite patisserie on the way.

Once the pastries were safely delivered to your dad, and spent a decent amount of time catching up with him, you marched your way to Spencer’s room.

Even from the hallway, you could tell which one his room was. You already heard the laughter of the people in his team you started becoming familiar with. You felt the warm fuzzy feeling spreading in your chest from knowing how much he was cherished by those people and vice versa.

You knocked on the door to announce your presence, and all heads turned towards your direction. You noticed how his eyes lit up from the sight of you entering his room. Everyone made some room for you, so you could sit on his bed. Your hand instantly found his — caressing the back of his hand while still being mindful of the IV.

You all shared stories and laughter in the tiny hospital room. Grateful that Spencer survived this horrifying event. JJ showed you the drawing her sons made for Spencer. Even the little ones adored your boyfriend. Through all of this, not even once you two let each other’s hands go.

Eventually, his colleagues bid their farewell, but not before wishing him a speedy recovery.

“Hey, angel.” He flashed you a smile.

“Hey. I want to ask how you are, but that sounds silly. I mean, of course you’re not fine.” You let out a shaky breath. “You scared me, you know?”

“I’m better now.” He gave your hand a squeeze. “So… Your dad was the one who performed the surgery on me…”

“Yeah. That was… Wild. I’m pretty sure half his soul left his body when he realized you’re the mysterious boyfriend.” You giggled at the memory of your dad’s reaction. “He said he’d check up on you later.”

Not even 5 minutes later, your dad knocked on the door. As if you had summoned him. He checked up on Spencer, notified the two of you on your boyfriend’s latest condition, etcetera, while keeping a straight face. He deserved to be applauded for his professionalism.

However, the spell broke once your dad was done with his examination.

“So, I heard you’re dating my daughter.” Your dad casually said while staring at Spencer dead in the eye.

Your boyfriend, clearly nervous, cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. It’s unfortunate that our first encounter is under such an awful circumstance.” He tried to straighten up his position as best as he could. “My name is Dr. Spencer Reid… But surely you already know that since you’re currently holding my medical chart.” 

“Doctor, huh? I thought he’s with the FBI?” His eyebrow went up as he looked at you now.

“Not a doctor like you, Dad.”

“Um, I have 3 PhDs.”

“That’s impressive. Well, I’m not interested in giving you any fatherly speeches for dating my daughter. At least not while you’re still recovering. I guess I’ll see you around, but hopefully not at the hospital again.” Your dad fully turned to face you this time. “My shift is about to end. Why don’t you come home with me? I’m sure your mom will be thrilled to see you. Especially if she finds out what just happened in less than 24 hours.”

Your dad gave the two of you one last look before he was leaving the room.

“I guess it went well.”

“Yeah, it could’ve been worse. Like, you know, he could secretly dose me with something that might kill me.”

“And why would he do that?”

“Because I’m dating his daughter?”

You burst out laughing at his answer. “Oh, babe. You’re as dramatic as he is. You two will be best buddies before you know it.”

“You should spend some time with your family. I’ll still be here until your dad deems me healthy enough to go home.”

“Alright. I’ll be back tomorrow. I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

You glanced at your boyfriend one last time, then closed the door to his room.

You saw your dad waiting for you at the end of the hallway — his white coat was long gone. Now that he knew about Spencer, and your mom would soon know too, it didn’t really sound like a bad thing at all. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to introduce him to your parents, it just felt too soon. Plus, between Spencer’s unpredictable work schedule and your dad’s long hour shift at the hospital, it was quite a challenge to set up a dinner with your parents.

Now that the cat was out of the bag, you were just happy that the most important people in your life would finally get to know each other. You were sure your mom would be more than happy to help you arrange the dinner, and you couldn’t wait for it to happen.

[wonyology]

The Years Next Door (m!reader x Babymonster's ASA) - part II

part I - part III (coming soon)

Summary: Enami Asa - one of, if not the most important person in your life - moved in next door a few years ago. You didn't know back then. It started with awkward first meeting, family dinner and dish washing duty. Looking back now, you still remember it like yesterday. When did things change between two of you? You don't know for sure - but you know that once it changed, no going back for you two.

tag(?): fluff, lots of fluff, maybe fluff only

ASA x yourself/Original Male Character

Word count: ~6.8k - uhm, you guys can read and try to figure out what happens next, have fun reading~~

Also, give your boy a follow if you like what i write

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

 That morning, you woke up feeling different. Sunlight spilled just a bit through your window curtains, giving you that feel good Disney vibe. Yesterday… yesterday was... definitely something. Your eyes hadn’t fully opened yet but they were squinting like crazy as you were reminiscing about her. She called you sunbae, she called you nice, she agreed to go around the neighborhood with you. For a teenager, life hadn’t felt this exciting in a while. 

 Getting up from bed, you walked around a bit before sitting on your study desk chair, taking in the little bit of sunlight that wasn’t covered by the curtains. Reaching out to open the curtains, the familiar view from your room welcomed you. But something changed yesterday, Asa and her family moved in. Just right across from your room, there had always been a window - could that also be her room? You glanced at the clock on your desk, 7:36AM. Should i text her right now? - you thought.

[준혁선베🥋]

hii

are u up yet?

[김아사🌸]

guess ㅋㅋ

You smiled, unconsciously. Thinking of how to reply when she texted back.

[김아사🌸]

you didn’t reply to my text last night

that’s rude, sunbae

 Ohh, right. You were in cuckooland last night because of her, didn’t even remember to reply back. Stupid. Stupid you.

[준혁선베🥋]

uhm… i’m sorry

what time are u free this morning? does 9am work?

i’ll buy u something to eat at the convenience store as an apology…

[김아사🌸]

9am sounds good 

*loopy thumbs up emoticon*

i’m just kidding tho, i’m not mad at you

 You felt relieved - like you just lost 10kg. Looking out the window, you snapped a quick photo of the one directly across from your room before sending the photo.

You sent a photo.

[준혁선베🥋]

is this your room window? it’s across from mine

sorry if it’s not. i’m not trying to be weird…

 Feeling both nervous and excited, you looked at the window. Someone was opening the curtains, you prayed to some supernatural force just for it to be Asa. Please be Asa, please be Asa… The curtains parted a bit, just enough for someone to peek their head out. 

 It was her. Yes!!! Her hair was slightly messy - like it was freshly combed, a few soft strands stuck on her cheeks, eyes puffy from sleep. Cute. So freaking cute. She blinked a bit before waving at you, that graceful beauty of hers made you feel like time just slowed down for the both of you. You knew better than to act like an idiot who just fell in love, not wasting any time smiling and waving back. She then pulled her head back from the window, maybe out of shyness. You stepped away from the window too, crashing right back into the chair with a thudding heartbeat. Glancing at the clock, it was 7:45AM.

[김아사🌸]

see u ㅎㅎ

can u come to my house later???

[준혁선베🥋]

ㅇㅋ (okay), see you later

 Hands running through your hair as millions of thoughts went through your mind, trying your best to keep it together. It wasn’t a date. You were just showing her around the neighborhood, as a friend - no big deal, just being nice, like she said last night. But still, you gotta get freshen up. Can’t go out showing Asa around looking like the neighborhood’s dummy. 

—

 You stand in front of the mirror, towel wrapped around your waist, hair still damp from a rushed shower. “Why do I have nothing to wear?” you muttered.  This was your first time in a while having such a dilemma choosing what to wear. Putting on a pair of clean-fit black pants, a “polite” white t-shirt and the nicest looking jacket you owned. Was it too much? Was it not enough? Was it just about? Whatever. Don’t overthink, it’ll do for now. You’ll hop on IG and look for some new clothes later if  this thing between you two ever works out.

 You then sprayed on four cautious sprays of the cologne that mom got for you on your last birthday. You didn’t know why a teenager your age needed cologne, but somehow, mom knew the best. Love you, mom. It smelled nice, just right, not too strong. Checking yourself out in the mirror once again, just to make sure you looked nice.

 Chill out, act normal. It’s not a date.

 Running downstairs, you slid your phone in your pocket before telling mom and dad you wouldn’t be having breakfast with them as you got plans, not mentioning Asa.

 “Are you meeting up with Asa?” your mom asked.

 You stopped dead in your tracks and turned around. “Uhm…”

 “The cute little girl next door. Your dad said he saw you two waving at each other this morning.” mom said while smiling lovingly.

 “Yeah, I’m just… showing her around. She’s new here”

 “Mm-hm.” Your mom nodded, eyes twinkling like she’s already imagined the entire future in her head. “Do you still have some pocket money left?” 

 You just blinked. “Yes, mom...”

 “Good” your mom walked to you, handing over a neatly folded 10,000 won bill anyway. “Buy her something nice, Joonhyuk-ah. Banana milk and some sandwiches or cream bread, she might like those. Don’t feed her those sausages in the morning, okay?”

 “Mom…”

 “I’m just saying. Your mom knows best.” her hands reached over, trying to brush your hair - which you immediately ducked. “First impressions matter a lot.” 

 You ran to the doorway, putting on your favorite pair of New Balance 550. “We’re just going around the neighborhood mom… I don’t like her or anything.”

 Your mom gasped, clutching her chest and acting hurt, way too dramatically. “You hate your mom now?! It feels like yesterday when you were so clingy to me, now that you are all grown up - you are too cool for the woman who raised you?!”

 “Mom… I’ll be back soon” you groaned. Teasing you had always been her favorite pastime.

 “Be nice to her. I will text Ms. Keiko and ask how you behaved” she called out before walking back to the kitchen.

 Behind all that teasing, you know - mom loves you. Always has, always would. Her way of showing affection was just embarrassing sometimes. Shutting the door behind, you walked slower than usual next door, trying to look cool, or normal. Glancing at your phone, it was 8:56AM. Perfect. A bit early? Maybe. But not late.

 Stopping at the front gate, you wondered. Do I ring the bell? Text? Call her out? Now what?

 Just when you were about to ring the bell, the sound of gates clicking made you freeze. It was Ms. Keiko and one of Asa’s sister, Lisa.

 “Oh, Joonhyuk-ah. Good morning” Ms. Keiko said. Lisa stood beside her, smiling politely at you.

 You straightened and bowed. “Hi, Ms. Keiko. Hi, noona.”

 “Aren’t you a bit early?” Lisa said, a hint of tease in the way she said it - just like last night.

 “Uhm, figured I shouldn’t be late.” your fingers nervously playing with the hem of your jacket.

 “Cute,” she added. “Asa should be down now. She just took too long to look pretty.”

 You nodded, trying not to let the thought of that rattle you, nodding.

 “We are just heading out for a bit.” Ms. Keiko said while opening the side gate slightly for you and stepping outside with Lisa.

 “Oh, we will make sure to come back before lunch.” you replied quickly.

 Just when they started walking down the street, Ms. Keiko smiled and gave you her blessing - half knowing, half warm. “Okay, just have fun, you two.”

 And with that, you bowed goodbye to them. Asa should be here any second now. 

 You heard footsteps. Then the creaking of the gate - there Asa was. Her eyes were smiling at you. She stepped out quietly, was she also nervous to see you too? Her hair was pinned back, left a bit loose on both sides - just enough to allow the sunlight to emphasize her features. She was wearing light makeup, nothing too fancy. A sky blue button-up, slightly cropped cardigan on top of a white tank top, paired with fitted jeans and a clean pair of Nike. Simple, casual yet… so beautiful. Your eyes met for a few seconds too long before she spoke up.

 “Hey”

 “Hi” you replied, a small pause in between - it didn’t feel awkward at all.

 “You came a bit early.” she said while glancing at her phone, not really checking the time.

 “I’m the type to be early.” 

 “So… you lead the way?”

 “Yeah, I’ll show you the local stuff. Secrets only longtime residents know. Real government-level classified stuff.” You nodded, trying to make her laugh.

 And laugh she did, quietly - the kind of laugh that can make a thousand boys fall for her. Just like that, the two of you started walking. Side by side.

 That moment, you felt like Park Kyung’s “Ordinary Love” was playing in the background, and the two of you were the main characters in a teenage romance. The weather that morning was great. Gentle morning air, perfect mix of breeze that made the world feel fresh and warmth from the sun shining at everything in the neighborhood. Just so good that you wished it would stay like this forever.

 The streets of Eungam-dong were nice, peaceful, disrupted occasionally by the sound of cars passing by or people opening their shops. You two passed through rows of nice buildings and light chatter of people starting their day. This silence - with her, felt nice. “Do you always wake up early? Like this morning.” Asa wondered, turning to look at you.

 “I don’t know. Depends on what plans I have on that day.” you shrugged.

 You pointed at the local convenience store just right around the corner. “Right there. Five stars. Nothing else in Korea can compare to this.”

 She smiled. “Wow.”

 You reached for the handle and opened the door for her. The bell chimed softly as you two entered. Inside, the store had everything teenagers like you two needed for a light breakfast. Instant noodle, snacks, cold milk... everything. You know every corner of this store, you’d been here since you were just a kid after all.

 “My treat, as promised. I have government funding.”

 “Funding…?” she replied, her head tilted, brows scrunching just a little bit - looking confused. “What does it mean?”

 Oh right, she’s Japanese - her Korean wasn't perfect back then. The way her voice sounded so sweet, soft and curious reminded you to take things slower with her. Gentler.

 “Oh, funding means… like money. Government money.” you tried to explain.

 She stared at you for a second. Then, she laughed - finally, sounded like candy to your ears. “Wow, must be nice.” The two of you walked to the drinks section. You went straight for the classic. “This one”

 You said while holding up a little bottle of milk to show her. “Everyone in Korea knows this. Legendary. I grew up drinking this… well, I still drink this but, you get the idea.”

 Asa leaned in, her eyes had a mix of curiosity and surprise. Her hand reached out to take the bottle - fingers slightly brushing against yours. Turning it around, she read the label just like your mom would. Are all women this careful? You, personally, just consume anything as long as it tastes nice. 

 “Cute packaging.” 

 “Yup, but I’m sure Japan has way fancier drinks.” 

 You then turned and scanned around. “And maybe… cream bread. Or this sandwich? I’m not sure what suits your taste but these are really nice. You won’t die from it.” you grinned while showing her one of the pastries.  Asa nodded, smiling. “I’ll try.”

 You then grabbed two triangle kimbap (one for her, just in case she was still hungry). Grabbing everything to the counter, you paid with the government funding (thanks mom) and led her back outside. There was a small bench right outside the store, just beside that familiar tree you always walked by on the way to school. You sat down first, she then followed. For a moment, the only sound there was the gentle crinkle of the plastic wrapping and the faint breeze passing by.

 “Try it.” you said.

 She took a sip of the banana milk, blinked for a second. “Mmm… It’s really nice.”

 You smiled, giving her a thumbs-up. “Told you. Only the best stuff.”

 She giggled again, feeling more comfortable this time. She mumbled thank you as you handed her her food, which you already peeled open. You two sat there, enjoying each other’s presence as time passed by - eating, sharing smiles between bites. Just two teenagers, under the morning sun.

 “So what was it like in Japan?” you asked after a short pause, still chewing a bit of kimbap still in your mouth. Damn, you really are your dad’s child.

 Asa started telling you everything - her hometown, her friends, her sisters, how she had to move here because of her dad’s job, where he now worked with your dad. She even told you how scary it was to leave everything and move to a new country, despite her dad trying his best to notify their family two years in advance. You listened. It must have been really tough on her. You couldn’t even imagine moving from Eungam-dong to Yeokchon-dong (which are right next to each other btw). 

 “That’s tough.” you said, in honest.

 “Yeah, but Korea’s nice. I guess I have a lot to do in Korea now.”

 “Uhm, do you watch… like, dramas or listen to K-pop?”

 Her eyes lit up. “Ooh, of course. My mom is a really big Block B fan, she’s the reason why I got into K-pop too. I also learnt Korean through watching dramas. What are your favorites?” Well, that made sense. No wonder why your speech is so cute.

 “Well, I don’t really watch dramas that much these days. I remember rewatching ‘Boys Over Flowers’ with my mom… Mmm, the other one, what is it? ‘Gentleman's Dignity’? Ever heard of it? The one with Jang Dong-gun in it. Really popular with middle-aged women.”

 She shook her head, laughing. “It sounds familiar.”

 “And K-pop, yeah… I listen a lot. Block B is nice, too. I like ‘Her’. My main is TWICE* and Bigbang.”

 “Ooh, I love them too. Super popular in Japan.”

*I LOVE TWICE.

 Great, you two had something in common. She even suggested - just threw it out there lightly - that you two start watching dramas together sometimes, if the chance ever came. Just say the word and I’d do anything with you. The conversation went on for a bit - teenage concerns, favorite songs, both of you two’s hobbies, the way your mood during the day was unhealthily decided by Manchester United’s result (I don’t know if we can stay up next season), how she wanted to try and start dancing… Then it slowed down, into something soft and easy. 

 “So there’s this arcade nearby.” you said, rubbing your hand on your knees. 

 “Oh, that’s nice. I haven’t really had the chance to go to one yet.” Asa tilted her head at you.

 “Wanna check it out? It’s really nice.” you asked, hoping not to sound over-excited.

 “Sure, is sunbae gonna show me all his skills,? she said, standing up slowly.

 “You’re gonna be amazed.” 

 “Or extremely disappointed.” she teased.

 “You’ll see.” The two of you - side by side, now closer to each other - with sunlight following, casting warmth along the peaceful street.

 The arcade was small, tucked in a corner near the main street, but it had everything: from claw machines, basketball game, racing simulators... you name it. LED lights along with a bit musty-but-still-clean-and-magical air of a place where kids, even adults come to make memories. You led the way, like a proud local. You showed her how to use the punch machine. With a light shoulder roll and a quick breath, you stepped up and swung. Baam.

 The machine blared: 674.

 “Woah.” Asa blinked. “That’s pretty good.”

 Did i look cool? You thought. “I mean, could’ve been better.”

 “Should I be scared of you, taekwondo master?” she asked, face holding a grin.

 You tilted your head slightly at her. “Only if you annoy me.”

 She laughed, holding her hands to cover her smile. Something about that way she does that still makes your heart beat crazy - till this day. “Try it, let’s see how you do.”

 Her punch was more like a gentle tap, scoring only somewhere around the 180-200s. She turned her head around looking at you, pouting - clearly playing it for the effect.

 “Not bad. You got potential.” You placed both your hands gently on her shoulders, pretending to console her but actually just taking any chance to be closer with her. You sly devil. And she didn’t pull your hands away, yes!

 After that punch machine victory, you two wandered around - laughing at each other’s poor attempt at racing, throwing bricks like Draymond Green at the 3-point line at the basketball machine and eventually ending up at the claw machine.

 Asa put both her hands on the glass, eyes wide. She pointed at the Crayon Shin-chan plush keychain - with him showing his butt, looking mischievous. Adorable.

 You tried. Then again. It took 4 tries. But you finally got it. The claw dropped it just enough to fall into the prize slot.

 “Victory, hehe.” you said, crouching to grab it, handing Asa the keychain while also hoping you really impressed her. Her eyes were sparkling. She mumbled thank you as she took it with both hands. So beautiful.

 Then, you tried once again to get the same one for yourself. You two walked out of the arcade with matching keychains - hers swinging from her cropped cardigan, yours clipped onto the neck of your jacket. 

 There was still a lot of time before lunch. No need to rush. You showed her the hidden alleyway shortcut behind the bakery - the one no one used except the kids who lived nearby. You passed the local park along Bulgwangcheon stream, stopping by the swings and sat there for a while. Taking in the scenery - the sunlight, the breeze, her beauty. Quiet, peaceful, nice. You showed her auntie Bomi’s snack stall near home, your favorite, where she got brave and tried something spicy - fanning her mouth after the first bite. Auntie Bomi didn’t even let you pay for it, saying it was a welcome gift for “this cute new girl”, she even gave Asa a free egg roll.

 On the way home, she asked if you ever get bored here. “Sometimes” you said. “But now it feels nice having you next door. Hanging out with you is… uhm, fun.” You two didn’t talk about feelings. Not yet. But she got closer to you, exchanging glances every now and then. Oh, before you even knew it, you guys already got home. Just in time for lunch.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

 From that day on, something quietly began to grow between you and Asa. Late night texts, occasional video calls where you two spoke really quietly - not wanting to be caught… It felt so comfortable. You didn’t label it, didn’t feel the need to - maybe she didn’t either. 

 Your families noticed too, of course. They weren’t dumb, not at all. On the first day of school, your families forced you two to take a picture together, saying it would be “nice” to look back on in the future. Well… maybe they’re right. Your mom started asking if Asa had eaten yet so casually, as if she was already a part of your family. Ms. Keiko started calling you over to have meals with their family, like it was second nature. You guys walked to school - Youngrak middle school, together. Just a 15 minute walk from home. You guys ended up in the same class - sitting next to each other, right beside the window at the back of the class. That made everything easier - being next to her almost everyday. The first month at school was a bit tough on her. New culture, new language, new everything. But you were there, volunteering to help her whenever she needed - translation, math homework... Teachers noticed you guys too, being such nice, diligent and studious kids. One of your names can’t be mentioned without the other. Asa adapted really quickly, faster than you thought. The girls at school loved her, of course they did. Look at Asa. Guys at school didn’t really approach Asa, since you were with her almost 24/7.

 Friends also tease you guys, in that harmless silly middle school fashion. Whispering jokes in class, calling her “Joonhyuk’s girl”,... you guys laughed it off. Asa usually rolled her eyes, but not with her signature half smile-half sigh. Neither of you really said anything. Teenagers… 

 Back home, Asa’s sisters’ teasing her even more. They once saw you guys walking home on a rainy day after 학원*. You were holding an umbrella, tilting mostly on her side to shield her from the rain. She blushed like crazy, but you just smiled and waved at them, playing along. Everything about her became part of your life, naturally.

*학원/hakwon: like study/educaiton center for after school study (typically after school, at night), really common in Korea, my country or just Asia in general. 

 As the time went by, you two also grew - not much, but small changes counted. Asa decided to join the dancing club, finally. Part of you felt proud of her, Asa was such a talented girl, drawing, dancing, writing - she did it all, shining in everything she did. The way she danced with those soft, precise grace made everyone feel like they were really fortunate to be in her presence, be near her. The other part of you, was it… jealousy?

 The more she participated in the dance club, the more attention she got, especially from the guys, or those sunbae. Fuck that. Those guys didn't know how special she was, they didn’t treasure her like you did. You hated that, but you still reminded yourself: you two were NOT a thing. Just friends, close friends - next door neighbors.  But then again, they had her front and center for pretty much every school performance. Damn it…

 Meanwhile, you started taking taekwondo more seriously. Going to practice after school as a routine slowly became a rhythm you couldn’t skip. Twice a week slowly increased into three, four times. They had you coming in for the weekend too, but your parents had your back, making excuses for you to enjoy your teenage years whenever it felt like too much. Something about this, growing up, the pressure to do well, to win - was a bit overwhelming, but you still liked it... right? You won a few medals at the city level, yeah… but as a kid. Then you won even a few more as you grew up, to your surprise (not your coach’s tho). Word got around, your names started circulating around the taekwondo circle. “There is this kid, from Eungam-dong, really good - too good for his age.”  You thought it was just gibberish when your friends told you about it. Then came the messages, representatives showing up at your house - talking about “your son’s potential, international level”, then the offer. You got scouted for a sports-specialised highschool, all the way in Suwon. 

 Suwon… away from Seoul, away mom and dad, away from Asa… A school for kids who are extremely good at their sports, for kids who had the potential to represent Korea on the world stage. The best of the best. Flattering, sure… But it was also scary and confusing at the same time. Well, this all happened during later middle school - early high school, let’s roll back the time - to when things were a lot more simple.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

 2019

 It was April, Asa’ birthday. You had been planning for a few weeks. With the help of Lisa and Chisa, you bought her a nice necklace from a really niche online jewelry shop on IG, with your saved up money that you were planning to spend on Juventus summer tour tickets in Korea that summer, planning to see Ronaldo (my GOAT) in real life. But for Asa, everything was worth it. The necklace was really nice, nothing over the top with some cute little charms. That night, you told her present was caught up in some delivery problems. She was a bit sad, which broke your heart but after your families were done celebrating her birthday at her house, you texted her.

10:24PM

[준혁선베🥋]

yah, kim asa, come out for a bit

ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

my mom said she forgot to give you some money for your birthday

[김아사🌸]

what? it’s okay

that’s nice but she doesn’t have too

[준혁선베🥋]

just come out

5 minutes

[김아사🌸]

your mom is too nice

give me one second

 After a few minutes, she was outside, wearing that oversized yellow pajama of hers, Donald ducks printed all over them. Hair a bit messy but still looking like she came out of your dream. Why do you have to look so cute even this late at night? The two of you standing under the lamppost between your houses, eyes gazing at each other. The soft glow from the lamppost definitely didn’t help you either, making her look even prettier.

 “Close your eyes. Give me your hands.” you said, a bit shy.

 “Huh… what are you doing?” Asa said, mouth grinning like she already knew what you were plotting.

 “Just do it or I’m walking back in.”

 “Okay, dummy.” She teased, closing her eyes. She held her hands out. Palms up, Trusting you.

 Right then, a wild thought ran through your mind: you really wished you had given her a light kiss on the lips. Your first kiss, hers too… maybe? No, it’s creepy. Instead, You pulled out a small box from your shorts pocket carefully, like it was highly classified, 24K carat, only-one-in-the-world type of jewelry, placing it into her hands.

 Her eyes opened, lips curling into a cheeky smile. “You really surprised me tonight, Seo Joonhyuk. I was actually mad at you a bit earlier ”. she said, clearly touched

 “Your sisters helped me pick it out. I felt like it really suits you. Just… don’t open it yet. Go inside and then open it. It’s really cold now.” you lied while rubbing the back of your neck. It wasn’t that cold. You were just really shy, so shy that you could die standing right there.

 “Okay, thank you for the gift, Joonhyuk-ah.” Asa waved at you one last time before smiling, going back inside.

 You waved back then walked back inside, pacing around the living room for a bit to calm the storm in your heart before sprinting to your room like a maniac. Thank god your parents were in their room, but little did you know, Asa’s mom was right upstairs in their house, witnessing the whole encounter with a loving smile on her face. 

 Your phone suddenly buzzed.

[김아사🌸] sent a photo.

 It was a selfie of Asa, lips puckered like Donald duck on her pajamas, hands up in a v sign - she was committed to the bit. Your eyes wandered around. On her neck was… there it was, your birthday gift. It was resting just above her collarbone, catching the soft light of her bedside lamp. 

 You stared at it for a while, smiling like you were a fool, president of cuckooland, just when a notification brought back to reality.

[김아사🌸] 

it’s really nice ㅈㅎ ah (your initials)

thank you so much ㅎㅎ

[준혁선베🥋]

see, i know the best

with a bit of help from your sisters, of course…

but still, mainly me.

[김아사🌸] 

you really know my taste huh

thanks again ㅎㅎ

[준혁선베🥋]

happy birthday, kim asa

 She then sent an emoticon of a cute bear, running around panicking with blushes on its face. Heh, i made her day. Well, she made yours too. From then on, you saw her wearing that necklace proudly on every special occasion. Seems like she really treasured your gift, nice.

 Late May came, 채육대 (Sports festival/day) at school

 Your school was buzzing with noise. Colorful t-shirts, cheesy banners. You weren’t really one to be excited for these kinds of events. But this year was different, Asa was here. The weather was a bit hot, but not so much, it was enough to make everyone feel energized.

 Asa, of course, was part of the cheering performance. She had her hair in pigtails, decorated with pink ribbons. She was almost front and center the entire performance, white shirt and black shorts - so simple yet so ethereal, looking like everyone’s first love in a drama. You didn’t want to stare that much, but you couldn’t help it. Her movements were sharp and graceful, always in sync with the rhythm, leading the other girls.

 You yourself were signed up for football, since you were, say, “a bit athletic”. People also knew you were a die hard United fan. When you told her you would be playing that day on the way home, she told you she would be cheering for you. No backing out now, buddy.

 When the match started, you glanced towards the audience and there Asa was, with her friend groups, jumping up and down while chanting something, felt like she was mouthing your name. Your chest felt like it burst open, time to turn into prime Ronaldo and impressed her. It wasn’t serious league football - just 7v7 - but to you, it was serious. Games gone by, you contributed by making passes and escaping presses in midfield to make play for your friends up front. When your team got to the final, you really hoped that Asa saw it all since your head was really into the game and didn’t want her to see you running around like a headless chicken. 

 Your class was screaming like crazy when there was 10 minutes left in the final. Asa was still there, sitting under an umbrella with her close friends. The score was 2-2. Then came a chance, a free kick with 2 minutes left. You stepped up.

 Your friend, Jooheon, jogged over and whispered in your ear “Whip it out right for me, I’ll try and score a header.” You smiled.

 Like mann, shut up. Watch me turn into 2008 Ronaldo and whip this ho in from 20 meters myself.

 You took your chance, kicking it with precision and just enough power. Please don’t embarrass me, ball. 

 As it flew through the other team defence, Joonheon stared “The fuck?”

 Time stopped, well… you felt so. Boom. It’s in. Top bins, baby.

 “Oh shit!”

 “Is it in?”

 The whole pitch erupted. 3-2. You turned to Asa, she was jumping with her hands up, mouth wide open - clapping while beaming at you like you just won the Champions League. You did it, just when you were deciding on what celebration to do, your friends tackled you onto the grass. 

 “You did it, you dumbass!”

 “Gang up on him, guys!!!” You couldn’t stop smiling, even under the dogpile of smelly, sweaty friends. That day was incredible, not because of the win. It was because she was there, you were there. You guys were there for each other, supporting each other even if it was just a sports festival day at school. That feeling when you made her feel happy - that rush - gave you something extra to hold onto when the real competition came. 

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

 A few weeks later, there was a taekwondo competition, national level. It was nothing like you’d ever seen before, not in a local center, not a school level competition. There were cameras to broadcast everything for TV.  It was held at Jamsil Student Gymnasium. It was huge, high ceilings, LED lights everywhere, rows of chairs stretching out endlessly, banners from every corner of Korea to cheer for their representatives. You still remember that day, it smelled like floor wax, sweat and raw nerves. 

 Looking around, you spotted mom and dad in the crowd, waving their hands like they were at a concert. You smiled, they would never miss this. Asa was sitting between your family and hers, giving you two thumbs up when your eyes met. As you squint your eyes to try and confirm, she was in fact wearing the necklace you gave her on her birthday - just like she would on every special occasion. You waved back at them, half smiling since the nerves were also getting to you. You hadn’t competed in anything this serious yet up until that point. This was "the one" for you to prove it, on the national stage.

 “Representing Eungam-dong, Seoul. SEO JOON HYUK”

 Everything passed by so fast, you had gotten to the final before you even knew it. It was not too easy, but not too hard. Still, those hits and kicks you took hurt like crazy, nothing like you felt before. Like damn, chill on me bruh… 

 As you were resting on the bench, waiting for the final, nothing was in your head except for  the rhythm of Twice’s ‘Cheer Up’. Weird, huh? You didn’t even notice that coach was encouraging you and giving tips on how to exhaust your opponent before going for it. Well, easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one with a sore rib and throbbing legs.

 But then, something made you turn around. A voice cutting through the noise of the arena. It was Asa’s.

 “Fighting, Seo Joon-hyuk. You got this.” she shouted with both her hands around her mouth, mimicking a megaphone. The families were cheering on you too, but for some reason, hers felt like the only one you needed. Time for the final.

 You stepped onto the mat, steady breath, mind relaxed. Fuck… why did your opponent look so big even though you two were in the same weight class. First round… Second round, then came third round. You two were aggressive. Every move hurt even more than the last. Everyone in the gymnasium was holding their breath. Your mom was holding back her tears, seeing her son all bruised up like this. Your dad’s hand was over her shoulder, still worried but knowing you can win this. 

 Fuck. Your neck felt so stiff.  Right leg so sore too.

 Final round, the moment came. You blocked, ducked and then decided to land a sharp body shot. Your opponent came down. It connected. The crowd roared. 

 The buzzer finally rang. You didn’t know how to react, crouching down to your opponent, asking if he was okay. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

 He nodded, while still lying down in pain. “Yeah… okay. Just need a moment to… you know…”

 You stood up while tapping on the side of his arms to signal that everything was fine between the two of you. You stood there, hands on your knees, heart beating like crazy, the adrenaline was through the roof - everything around you seemed so blurry, but you won.

 The ref raised your hand. There it was. The crowd cheered for you. You walked to your opponent and gave him a friendly hug, no hate, he gave you a fair beating. Proper guy. Your teammates, coaches crowded you. Hey, you won something grand, on behalf of your Eungam-dong and your school - which was not really known for athletic talents. But everything faded as you walked over to your family, signaling at the security guard, asking him to let them down.

 Mom reached out first, hugging you, despite the fact that you were drenched in sweat and probably death. “Oh my baby, I’m so proud of you.” She just kept kissing your head, it also smelt like crazy by the way. Your dad was proud on the side, busy taking pictures with his over 10 years old camera, yeah this one is going into our family history book, buddy.

 Her family came to congratulate you too, one by one, not forgetting to ask if you were okay.

 “It’s fine, Ms. I’m just a bit sore here and there.” you lied. It hurt so bad.

 “Come to our house tonight, Joonhyuk-ah. We will make you that magical Japanese potion. Fix you up real good.” Asa’s dad said. Everyone laughed. They are such nice neighbors.

 Just then, a thought crossed your mind - Oh, where was Asa? - your around. Shit, forgot my neck still hurt. There she was, behind her sisters, who were smiling like crazy. Your eyes met, this time, Asa wasn’t screaming or jumping anymore. Her usual self was back. You could tell she was proud, her face said it all. 

 As you took a step toward her, she took one too. In her hands was a towel and a water bottle, seemed like she was gripping it tightly ever since the start of the final - cold, condensation running down the sides. She looked… shy? 

 “Hey…” she said softly while handing you the towel “Congratulations. You did well today.” 

 You grinned, like an idiot, wiping your face and hair. “Really? Did I look cool?”

 She didn’t say anything, that signature half sigh-half smile is back on her face again.

 “I’ll take that as a yes. Thank you very much.”

 That was it, everything felt so peaceful. Then, you were called up to receive the medal, right after the cheering performance ended.

 Right, you almost forgot about that part. As you were walking to the podium, you felt like every pair of eyes in South Korea were on your back. Never the one for this much attention. The ceremony finally began. You bowed, shook hands with the vice president of Korea Taekwondo Association as he placed the medal on your neck. 

 “You really are one of a kind, kid. When it’s time, we will call you up to train for the national team.” 

 You smiled, out of politeness. National team, are you joking???

 Everything was a blur. Pictures being taken, TV interviews, you were now a local legend-celeb. But behind all that noise,  Asa was still in the crowds, tiptoeing behind her sisters to get a better view of you. Media duties done, you walked right back to her and your families. Without even knowing it, you took the gold medal off your neck and put it on hers. She was shocked - not in a bad way, just surprised at how naturally you did this.

 “Hehe, how does it feel?” you asked, still shy but it didn’t matter, Asa was in front of you. Well done, that was smooth.

 “Uhm… nice, I guess…” she said, looking down at the medal, touching to see how it feel. Her lips were also smiling. Cute.

 “I guess your mom is a nobody now. I’ll just live like this with your dad until old age then.” your mom, now done crying, happily teased as she saw the scene in front of her played out.

 “C’mon, mom.” you tried hard not to sound too flustered, while Asa was blushing like crazy, head down as she didn’t know what to do. 

 “Get in, you two. Let’s take a picture.” your dad said.

 Then, you two got closer together. Asa hooked one arm around yours, the other hand holding up the medal like a proud girlfriend. But, remember this, you two were still not a thing yet. However, it didn’t matter. You were just drowning deep in the moment. Meanwhile, Asa leaned in, putting her head on your shoulders and joked:

 “Pose, you smelly dummy.” Right, right. I’m sorry I didn’t take a 30 minute break during the middle of a taekwondo competition to shower before standing next to you.

 Click. A memory was sealed. Later that night, both your families had dinner together - a warm, chaotic celebration in the neighborhood. Everyone couldn’t stop smiling and laughing. Your dad was calling every relative you had to tell them about your big win, even the ones in Busan. Wait, you have relatives in Busan? Mom was so proud, she couldn’t stop talking about how her son won it on national TV.

 Peaceful, warm… The rest of 2019 went by just like that. Both of your and Asa’s families grew tighter - casual dinners, shared nights, moms started going out together and catching up on the neighborhood dramas… What about you and Asa? You guys walked to school together, waited until each other's practices ended. Casually hanging out in the neighborhood, video calls became more frequent, you guys even started dozing off without ending the calls, which felt normal. Even though you two got busier, there was still time for each other. You two kinda became that couple at school that everyone knew about - teachers, classmates, your coach… you name it, but neither of you dared say anything about it. 

 No one said anything. As you guys grew older together, at some point,  whatever this is between the two of you started to feel a bit unusual. A bit too complicated.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Yayy, part II is out now. Sorry for any mistakes, will be going through it again later. Like always, much love to you guys, feel free to leave comments/review/suggestions. ❤️❤️❤️

[codfxrn-blog]

BETWEEN FIRE AND SHADOW

⚠️ CONTENT WARNING: This story contains mature, sensual, and emotionally intense themes intended for adult readers (18+).

✍️ Author’s Note: English is not my first language. I apologize for any mistakes or awkward phrasing you might find. I hope the emotion still reaches you.

Bob Reynolds × reader × Bucky

━━━━━━✧♛✧━━━━━━

Neon lights were dripping down the windows like liquid tears. Colors melting into the rain, flickering between glass and darkness like someone was crying from inside.

Outside, the rain fell with that electric softness that doesn’t soak but clings. Like invisible fingers brushing over skin. Like the world was breathing at the back of your neck.

I was there.

Alone.

Sitting at the bar, where the music was a distant murmur and the glasses were sweating on the wood. I was drinking something I didn’t even remember ordering. Something bitter and ice-cold that burned just enough. Like my throat. Like my chest.Just another one of those nights where I felt like an accidental witness in a story I never asked to star in.

Then I heard it.

“You shouldn’t be alone.”

The voice was low, rough—like a stone buried at the bottom of a river. Recognizable, even in the deepest dream.I turned slowly.

Bucky.

His hair was damp from the rain. His lips parted slightly, as if holding back words. The leather jacket stuck to his body like second skin. Everything about him smelled like a warning.

Like loyalty. Like the past.

He looked at me like he could remember who I was before the pain. Before the cracks. Like he still had hope.But I knew the truth.

His shadow was never alone. It was always preceded—or followed—by another. One more intense. More volatile. More dangerous.

And then I felt it. Before I saw him.

Bob.

He didn’t walk in—he burst through. Like a wildfire that doesn’t ask for permission. His presence was a shockwave, like the air itself had changed weight just to hold him. He wore civilian clothes, but his body looked ready to burst out of them.

Tense. Restless. Alive.

His gaze locked on mine like he’d been searching, even with his eyes closed. That blue of his wasn’t calm. It wasn’t clear.

It was a storm. A memory.

A burning question behind a frozen expression.He once looked at me like that.

Before he touched me.

Before he lost me.

“You shouldn’t speak for her,” Bob said, his eyes never leaving mine. His voice was a straight line. A challenge.

And there I was.Suspended between two breaths.

Between the man who wanted to save me… and the one who only knew how to set me on fire.

Between control and chaos.

The past that knew my wounds… and the living wound that had never healed.

The bar turned into a dangerous edge. My glass, a useless anchor. The sounds around me faded. Only they existed. Their tense bodies. Their silences full of words left unsaid.I could feel the fury burning beneath Bob’s skin. The way his hands trembled, just barely, as if fighting the impulse to reach for me. And I could see the hidden ache in Bucky’s eyes—that tiredness of someone who’s waited too long.

“I don’t belong to anyone,” I said at last, unsure if I believed it. But wanting them to hear it.

They didn’t answer. Not with words.

Only with their eyes.Two different ways of loving me.

Two possible futures.

Two kinds of fire.

And me—burning in between.

The elevator was a box of suspended silence—a glowing cell where the only thing that moved was our breathing. An invisible triangle, tense, electric. The air felt thick, saturated with everything we hadn’t said. Their bodies were presence, heat, threat. The lights flickered with the weight of a warning.

Bob’s hand brushed against my back at intervals, like he was measuring the distance between desire and guilt. Each touch was a mistake made a thousand times. A dissonant chord in our old melody.

Bucky, on my left, didn’t touch me. But his closeness was magnetic pressure, like he was holding himself back—out of respect… or fear of what might happen if he didn’t.When the door to the hotel room closed behind us, the silence became deafening. There was no space for words. Only broken breaths. Built-up tension. And the way they looked at me—like both were about to fall, and it would be my fault.

There was a heavy silence floating between us. Not the awkward kind. The kind that clings to your skin like sweat, that pulses at the base of your neck, between your thighs, behind clenched teeth.

The kind of silence begging to be broken with a bite.I was in the center of the room.

They stood at either side.

Like opposing poles that no longer knew how to repel each other.

Bob looked at me like his hunger had no bottom. White knuckles. Tight lips. His chest rising and falling slowly. Like holding back was a kind of torture he welcomed.

“If I get any closer, I won’t be able to stop,” he said, his voice barely a growl.

“And who asked you to?” I answered, without thinking. Without breathing. Without fear.

Bucky let out a dry laugh. Almost broken. He walked toward me slowly. Each step a silent threat.

“Are you playing with fire?” he asked, stopping just inches from me, so close I could feel the heat of his body without him touching me.

“I’m made of it,” I whispered.

His eyes drifted down my neck, across my parted lips, over the rise and fall of my chest that I couldn’t control.

Bob stepped in behind me, his breath brushing my neck without touching. Almost. Barely. A warm ghost that raised every hair on my skin.

“Tell me to stop,” he said in my ear, voice hoarse and vibrating, like lightning trapped in sound. “Tell me not to.”

“Don’t,” I whispered. But I trembled. Because I didn’t mean it.

Because I didn’t want anything to stop.

Bucky slowly raised a hand. His finger grazed my collarbone. Just one finger. But it felt like I was being stripped bare. I couldn’t stop the heat blooming in my body before his touch.

“You’re trembling,” he said.

“It’s not me,” I replied. “It’s you two.”

Bob growled low, close to my ear.

“Swear to God, if you look at me like that again…”

“What?” I asked, my words a provocation shaped like a breath.

“I’ll make you forget how to walk,” he spat.Bucky leaned his forehead against mine. His breath hit my mouth. I could smell the metal of his arm, feel the heat rising from his chest.

“We should stop,” he said, without conviction.

“Then step back,” I dared him.

He didn’t move.

They were both pressed against me without fully touching.

We were three bodies suspended in tension.

Contained desire. Tongues aching to taste, hands shaking from restraint.

“We’re not going to survive this,” Bob murmured.

“Then let’s die slow,” I answered, letting my head fall back, surrendering to the electricity burning between us.I could feel them both. The heavy beats in their throats. The weight of their stares seared into my skin.

Their need.

My surrender.

The edge about to break.

But none of us moved.

Not yet.

Bob was the first to touch me.

His warm breath against my neck was an implosion. His hands—trembling, clumsy—traced down my back until they found the zipper of my dress. He pulled it down with a need that looked like it hurt. Like undressing me was more a confession than a physical act.

“I missed you,” he whispered, his rough voice hitting my sternum like an ancient plea. “I can’t sleep unless I know you’re still alive.”

His lips searched for me, as if they remembered the way even in darkness. He kissed my collarbone with interrupted devotion, a reverent hunger that seemed to apologize for existing. Each bite was a muffled scream. A plea disguised as desire.

Bob was always like this: luminous, tragic, feral.He touched me like he was made of broken light. Like I was his religion and his ruin all at once. He pushed me gently against the wall, and his body melted into mine with an urgency that asked for no permission.

But we weren’t alone.

Bucky was there.

Still. Watching.

Leaning in the corner of the room like a living shadow. His jaw clenched, his eyes dark, his metal fist closed so tightly it creaked. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

His gaze burned more than any touch.

“Are you just going to stand there and watch?” I asked, my back arched, caught between the wall and Bob’s body, my legs trembling from everything I could no longer control. “Is that all I am to you?”

He didn’t answer.

He just stepped forward. Silent.Certain. Like a storm that already knew where to fall.

His eyes weren’t on my body. He didn’t need that. He looked at me. At the soul beneath the shaking.

At the wound behind the desire.Bob stepped back slowly. He wasn’t jealous.

He wasn’t possessive. He was an accomplice.

Like he knew what was about to happen wasn’t betrayal—but a silent pact between three broken souls.

Bucky’s flesh hand wrapped around my waist.Warm.Steady.

Human.

The other—cold as a promise of eternal metal—came to rest on my cheek. So softly. So carefully. It made me close my eyes.

And then he kissed me.

And the world fractured.

His mouth was hunger. Desperation. Redemption.

He kissed me like the end of the world was waiting just outside that room and he could stop it—only if he held me like this.

For a moment, I wasn’t broken. For a moment, I forgot I wasn’t supposed to love either of them.

The worst part was that I loved them both.

And I no longer knew how to survive that.We ended up in the bed, a single body fragmented in three.We didn’t know who touched first.We just felt.

Bucky’s hands on my back—strong, possessive, painfully precise.Bob’s mouth on my neck—his broken breathing, his tongue like a desperate prayer.

My legs were open. Not out of surrender. But because I’d stopped resisting. The sweat on our skin was liquid fire.

Our movements, chaotic at first, became a wordless rhythm.

One held me. The other took me.

One adored me. The other claimed me.

“You’re trembling,” Bob murmured, caressing the curve of my breast like it was sacred, just before drawing a gasp from my lips with his touch between my thighs.

“You’re tearing her apart,” Bucky growled, his voice low, darker now. “Like you want her to break in your arms.”I just moaned.

Voice wrecked.

Soul wide open. And I felt alive. Not from the touch. Not from the heat.

But because—for one cursed and glorious moment—I had them both.

My two tragedies. My two inevitable mistakes. My two favorite ruins.

When the orgasm hit, it came like a black wave.

Beautiful. Devastating.

I cried. I don’t know why. Maybe for what I’d lost. Maybe for what I’d found.

Or maybe because, for the first time, I felt whole… by being divided. Their names burned in my throat.I didn’t know which one I belonged to.

And truthfully—I didn’t want to know.

I woke with the sensation of still having them inside me.

My body pulsed as if the night were replaying itself across my skin—a silent film projected onto my back.

The air smelled of sweat, of sex, of battles won and wars unfinished.

Bob wasn’t sleeping.

He was watching me in silence, as if exhaustion couldn’t touch him as long as I kept breathing beside him. His eyes held that lethal mix of tenderness and storm.His hair was messy. His lips parted, like he was holding back words that didn’t dare come out.

His arm was wrapped around my waist—not like a prison,but like a bridge he was afraid I’d stop crossing. Bucky, a few feet away, was finally asleep.

Even in dreams, his body remained tense.But his face… had surrendered.

At least for now. A truce. A pause.

A perfect parenthesis where the world didn’t demand I choose.And in that stolen breath of dawn, Bob moved closer.

His voice was just a wisp of smoke:

“Can I touch you again?”

I didn’t answer with words.I simply slid my hand across his chest, feeling the muscle vibrate beneath my palm, lowering it slowly until I heard him gasp when I reached his hardness.I nodded with my eyes.

With my skin.

And he understood.His fingers started at my collarbone—slow,like he was tracing a prayer only he knew.

He looked at me with restrained reverence.

Like he didn’t know whether to worship me or ask for forgiveness.He kissed my shoulder. Then my cheek. Then the corner of my mouth.

His lips weren’t searching for possession.

They were searching for certainty.As if he needed to confirm I was still here,that I was still real,that I chose him—at least this time—in this room that still smelled of sex, sweat, and unsaid decisions.

His body settled over mine without weight.

Only heat.

As if he feared breaking me.

As if he didn’t know I was already broken—and that somehow, he was one of my favorite cracks.

He kissed me for real.Not hunger.

Slow fire. A reverence.

His lips moved against mine with a dangerous softness—the kind that entangles more than fury ever could.

“You’re warmth,” he whispered against my neck. “And I’m always cold.”

His hand moved down my sides.

Not searching. Not claiming. Just feeling me.

As if my skin were a language he’d been secretly studying for years.

I wrapped myself around him.

Caught him with my legs, with my arms, with the tremors I couldn’t hold back.

I felt weightless. Alive.

As if desire floated in my throat like a hymn.

When his chest brushed mine, I didn’t moan—I sighed.

Because it didn’t hurt.

Because for the first time, it felt like coming home.

Bob looked down at me, hair falling into his eyes,and that sad, fevered blue pierced straight through the center of my soul.

“I never stop feeling you,” he murmured, like the confession hurt. “Even when you’re not there. Even when you won’t look at me.”I caressed his cheek. “I’m here now.”

He kissed my chest with an ancient kind of tenderness.

As if he were blessing me.His hands gripped my waist, and we moved together—slowly,so slowly it hurt.Like time was afraid of us.

Like nothing else existed outside of us and that stolen morning.He was strength and vulnerability.

He was trembling light in a fracture.

And me… I let him touch me. Not with urgency, but with surrender.

When it ended, he didn’t move away.

He rested his forehead against mine,our breaths uneven,our mouths still parted—like we didn’t know whether to kiss againor just stay like this…suspended.We didn’t say anything.

But that silence tasted like tenderness,like redemption,like an unanswered question.And maybe…like a promise.

One we might never keep. But in that night—in that dawn—it was

A shiver settled along my spine, waking me with a start. Bob was to my left, asleep with his brow furrowed—as if even in dreams, he couldn’t let go of the weight of the world.

His chest rose and fell slowly,and his arm was wrapped around me with a tenderness I’d never seen in him.

As if he feared I’d disappear unless he kept me pressed against his golden body.

Bucky, on the other hand, was awake. He stood by the window, his back to us. The metal of his arm caught the pale light of dawn.

He looked like a statue carved from pain and longing.

“You’re not sleeping,” I whispered.

He didn’t turn. Not yet.

“I can’t.Not all the way. Not after that.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No,” he said, finally turning around. His eyes were violent oceans—deep and dark. “But I know you will.” I wanted to contradict him. To say there was no guilt. Only desire. But it would’ve been a lie. Because I desired him. And I desired Bob too.

The worst part was that each of them awakened something different in me: Bob, the need for light. Bucky, the hunger for shadow. And I…I was a crack.

A contradiction with long legs and lips stained by both of them.

I sat up slowly, the sheet slipping down my bare skin like it wasn’t even trying to cover me.

I didn’t feel shame.

There was something in his gaze—tense, frozen, burning—that gave me permission to exist like this.Free. Naked. Desired.

I let him look at me.Let the silence weigh.

Let his pupils drink in every inch of meuntil I could feel it in my mouth,as if his hunger had flavor.

“What if I don’t regret it?” I asked, my voice low, dragging every word toward him. My steps pulled him closer to a line we’d already crossed.I stopped in front of his tense body,and the cold metal of his arm brushed my bare side. Goosebumps bloomed across my skin. “What if I want more?”

He closed his lips like someone trying not to give in. As if every muscle in him was fighting something inevitable.

“Then I can’t protect you… from us,” he said. His voice was a weapon. And his stare—a promise that burned.

His hands gripped my waist with a force that spoke more of need than tenderness,and he kissed me.It wasn’t soft.

It was an emotional ambush. A bite disguised as lips. A plea with teeth.

He lifted me effortlessly,sat me on the little table by the window,and the cold glass against my back clashed with his fingers—fingers that moved with the precision of someone who didn’t need to ask.

He already knew. He already knew the map of my body,the exact routes where the tremble began. I moaned into his mouth, open and trembling,clutching his shouldersas the light of dawn filtered through the window,drawing our shadows together. Me—with my legs spread.

Him—with his voice low, rough, dangerously close to my ear:

“He doesn’t touch you like I do.He doesn’t hear these sounds you give me.”

“Jealous?” I gasped, barely able to control the trembling.

“No,” he whispered, like it hurt. “Desperate.”

And when I came undone against him—shaking and vulnerable—I knew:vTo him,my surrender wasn’t just lust.It was victory.His quietest one.

Hours later, the room was silent. All three of us were dressed again,looking at one another. The conversation floated in the air like an undetonated bomb.

“So… what now?” I asked, sitting between them. Bob looked at me.With that look that hurt. Because his love had always been so big it seemed like it wanted to save me from myself.

“I still choose you,” he said.

“That’s not fair,” Bucky replied. “You can’t love something that doesn’t belong to you.”

“She’s not a thing,” Bob interjected.

“No. But she’s not only yours either.”

They both looked at me. I took a deep breath, wishing I’d been born without a heart.

“I don’t want to choose,” I confessed. “Not yet. Maybe never.”

“Then what are we?” Bob asked, his voice cracking.

For the first time,I felt their stares pierce through me, and I had nowhere to hide. No way to disappear.

“You’re what keeps me from jumping,” I said.

And they stayed.

Because we were crossfire—an intense desire that burned slow,too close to let go.

[ttdamian]

I apologize for erm not updating for like 2 weeks... i've been very unmotivated to write and even thought of quitting (´∀｀；) but hello hi i wont do that... as apology please take this little snippet of the next chapter i just started working on. Thank you so much for all the support as well, it has really been the reason why i keep writing.

It had been two weeks.

Fourteen days of waking up in sheets that didn’t feel like yours.

Fourteen nights of lying awake in a bed too big, too stiff, too quiet.

The silence here wasn’t peace. It was something else. Something heavier.

The kind that pressed on your chest when the lights went out.

The kind that made you flinch at every creak in the floorboards—because even the house itself seemed to sigh in disappointment when you moved.

Wayne Manor wasn’t a home. It was a museum of people who used to matter. Every hallway whispered someone else’s name. Every photo on the wall looked like it had been taken just to be seen by the world, not remembered by a family.

You weren’t part of the curation. You were something left in the margins. A misprint in an otherwise perfect collection.

And nothing had changed.

Bruce still hadn’t looked at you.

Not directly.

Not once.

You’d memorized the angles of his avoidance.

The way his eyes would land just past your shoulder.

The way his footsteps would speed up when he heard yours down the hall.

The way he spoke only when he had to, and never in words meant for you.

He was the kind of absent that didn’t need distance.

And Alfred… Alfred tried.

You saw it in the soft way he said your name. In the tea left outside your door that was always still warm. In the way he didn’t flinch when you asked the question you already knew the answer to.

“Why won’t he talk to me?”

Alfred’s pause was long. Weighted. Then, in a voice full of gentle regret:

“He’s grieving, Miss. He sees… her. When he sees you.”

Her.

Your mother.

The ghost you wore on your face.

In your laugh. Your smile. The slope of your nose.

Maybe that was why Bruce couldn’t bear to look at you. Because you weren’t just a reminder of what he lost. You were living proof that she’d been here, once—and that she was never coming back.

So, you tried. You really, truly tried.

Tried to stay quiet.

Tried to make yourself small enough not to bother him.

Tried to be good—whatever that meant in a house that didn’t know what to do with you.

But the thought still came, uninvited, gnawing at the edge of your mind.

‘He could still grieve… and love me.’

It repeated like a heartbeat. Soft. Steady. Inevitable.

You hated yourself for thinking it.

Hated the way it made you feel—needy, demanding, like a child too greedy for affection.

Selfish.

You were being selfish.

That’s what you told yourself.

That’s what your mother would’ve said, wouldn’t she?

She raised you to be reasonable. To be patient. To understand that people were made of hurts you couldn’t always see.

She raised you to make room for other people’s pain.

But still…

Still you wondered why no one seemed willing to make room for yours.

Some nights you cried into the pillow just to feel something warm. Some mornings you looked in the mirror and tried to smile, just to see if you still could. The reflection didn’t feel like you anymore. You didn’t recognize the girl with the tired eyes and the hope she kept crushing down like it was dangerous.

The girl who had stopped expecting good things a long time ago.

The girl who was trying so hard not to ask for anything, just in case the answer was silence.

At first, it hurt—like ripping out something soft and fragile from your own chest.

But then came the numbness.

The slow settling of silence in your bones.

The quiet understanding that maybe some things just weren’t meant for you.

You started telling yourself it was fine. That you didn’t need him to say your name.

Didn’t need him to see you.

Didn’t need to be loved by someone who’d already chosen to forget you existed.

And maybe—if you said it enough times—you’d start to believe it.

Because what other choice did you have? The longer the silence lasted, the more it started to feel like a kind of answer. Like absence was just another way of saying no.

No, he wouldn’t come around.

No, you weren’t part of this family.

No, he didn’t want you.

Not here.

Not now.

Maybe not ever.

So, you stopped waiting.

And instead, you began to move through the house like a ghost. Quiet. Careful. Always out of the way. You learned which floorboards to avoid. Which rooms were safest to cry in. Which corners let you disappear just enough.

The walls never stopped groaning when you passed. Like even they were tired of your footsteps.

Like even they knew:

You didn’t belong here.

And maybe—just maybe—you were starting to believe it too.

taglist : @cssammyyarts @wendee-go @sadeem575 @c4xcocoa @time-shardz @whaaaaaaaaat111 @noone1233nobody @justanerd1 @bbmgirll @bakuraloverr @myjumper @cupid73 @lordbugs @cheappremingerfromdelululand @lovebug-apple @justafank @chemicalwindexbottle @welpthisisboring @totallynotacat13 @nininehaaa @yuyuzi-ling @yarn-mony @eyeless-kun 

[lisssyyu]

Eternity to taste

PAIRINGS: Caitlyn Kiramman x wife!f!reader

AUTHOR'S NOTE: As you may have noticed, I really like to write with an emphasis on psychology (which is funny, because I am a lawyer by profession), so the second part may be (!) the last. In general, I really like writing in this genre, especially about the game Signalis, and maybe I'll even post a couple of fics about this fandom.

WARNING(S): Mention of violence; possession; control; implied manipulation; power imbalance; age difference (!Caitlin 28, !reader 22) ;; mention of pregnancy

wc: 6.3k

parts: 1 ;; 2 ;; ?

You no longer remembered how the street smelled, how noisy the main square was on holidays. The world that once seemed so alive and close had now dissolved into a fog, like an old photograph faded by time.

You only knew that Caitlyn drank coffee with milk, that on Tuesdays her gloves smelled of cold metal, and on Saturdays of lilacs. You knew that she always asked you to tie her tie, even though she could do it herself.

"I'm not holding you back," she said, stroking your hair like an obedient little animal. "But where will you go? To whom?"

You tried to imagine it. The city, the air, your friends. But if those thoughts had once brought a smile to your face, now your heart tightened into a knot of fear. The world had become huge and alien, frightening without her.

"They don't understand you," Caitlyn whispered, her voice growing colder and harder with every word. "They always laughed behind your back. I saw it."

You listened to her words in silence, but inside you were feeling something completely different. It was scary, not just because of what Caitlyn was saying, but because somewhere deep inside you, her words were starting to ring true.

Maybe it was true that no one was waiting for you outside the walls of this house. That your friends had long since turned their backs on you. That the world was too cruel to accept you as you were.

You felt more and more strongly how your former self that brave, lively person who once took to the streets with hope and dreams was slowly dissolving. Its place was filled with a cold, empty fear of being alone, of forgetting yourself and losing everything that was even remotely important.

Caitlyn was the one who never leaves, who harshly but unwaveringly keeps you on this precarious edge. There is no room for doubt in her voice, which means that your desire to argue with the reality she creates begins to die. You cling to her words like a lifeline, because who else but her will be there when everything falls apart?

You no longer want to resist, because resistance means being completely alone. And being alone means disappearing.

And now you are her little two. The one who belongs to her, who lives in her shadow and breathes to her rhythm. And even if a faint glimmer of your former self remains deep in your soul, it drowns in this incessant whisper:

"Only I need you. No one else needs you."

And this has become your eternal prayer.

"What's that?"

You looked down at your lap. There lay a book you had found by chance while cleaning. The house was getting colder and lonelier, especially when Caitlyn left for long shifts. You thought reading would help distract you.

"Just a novel," you whispered, feeling your voice tremble. "I got bored."

She approached, and there was no anger in her gaze, only weary cruelty, as if you had once again failed to meet her expectations.

"Are you bored with me?"

Your breath caught, the words slipping out in a mistake you would pay dearly for. Caitlyn stood almost close enough to touch, her cold presence squeezing you like a steel grip.

"I'm leaving for twelve hours. I kill for order. And you… are you bored here?"

You wanted to crawl back, but the back of the sofa behind you prevented you from doing so.

"I'm sorry," you breathed, already knowing it would lead nowhere.

"You're always apologizing. You know who else apologizes? Weaklings."

She grabbed the book with the force of someone tearing off a bandage, without pity, and threw it against the wall so that the pages scattered like feathers.

"I feed you, clothe you, keep you warm, while outside people are killing each other for crumbs of bread. I pulled you out of that filth, out of that city where you would have died at the first intersection if it weren't for me."

She leaned toward you and grabbed your chin sharply, forcing you to look up.

"And you really think you have the right to be bored?"

You wanted to argue, to say, "I was just reading," but your mouth was dry and the words stuck in your throat.

"Look at yourself," she hissed in your face. "Pathetic, scared, shaking like a rabbit. Do you really believe that anyone but me cares about you?"

You shook your head.

"That's a good girl," she said, as if it were a reward.

Caitlyn kissed you on the temple almost tenderly, but that kiss concealed the same power that had recently torn your soul apart.

"I love you, you know that," her voice became quieter and lost its former sharpness, "but when you disappoint me… I can't control my anger."

Over time, fear and anxiety began to recede, but not disappear. Rather, they hid somewhere deep inside, like animals huddled in a warm burrow.

In their place, habit took hold. The day consisted of repetitive gestures: the creak of the front door lock at exactly seven in the evening; the muffled rustle of a coat; heavy breathing before Caitlyn shook the city cold off her shoulders. You met her at the doorframe with an almost smile.

The skin of your palms remembered the roughness of wet fabric, shoulders, a tiny tremor under a uniform that smelled of gun oil. She let you help her, let you take off her gloves, touched your cheek with her fingers as a sign of her presence. And in that moment, the house became the center of the world, the only safe island amid the strange, wind-swept streets.

You learned to read her pauses. If her footsteps were heavy, you poured strong tea; if they glided almost silently, you made a decoction of oregano and mint.

Those evenings flowed smoothly, almost sleepily. She talked about the patrols in fragments: "two detained," "smuggling at the locks again." You just nodded. With each "yes" and "I understand," a strange calm grew inside you: if the world out there was really that cruel, then here, in the flickering circle of the lamp, you were on the right side of the glass.

The warmth from the lamp faded as you finally sat down to dinner. The dark oak table, the blanket on your shoulders, not a sound from the neighboring rooms. Caitlyn ate slowly, as if each movement marked the last breath of the day.

But today something was changing, and you sensed it before you heard it.

Caitlyn put down her fork and turned her palm toward you. There was so much confidence in this movement that the air around you immediately became denser.

You didn't know the words yet, but you could already feel their weight.

Seconds dragged on as a dull, muffled bell rang in your head. And when she spoke, the words fell into the silence without a splash, but the water beneath them cracked.

She wants a child.

The sound of these three words, barely whispered, was louder than any command. The world around her shifted, as if the house had suddenly tilted and the walls had cracked.

Your "no" didn't even have time to take shape. It was just a fleeting spark before it was extinguished in the darkness of her unshakable will. Inside, under her ribs, an invisible bird fluttered, but the cry stuck in her throat: a flat fear of returning to what had been before, to the cold streets, to the loneliness that had long since become more frightening than any loss.

You felt your hands trembling, even though they were resting on your knees, hidden under the fabric of your skirt. Images flashed through your mind: a child's cry, a small hand, the warm smell of milk, but next to them, in the same frame, stood her, tall, inevitable, with the same gaze that holds your world together.

You weren't ready. The word drifted away from your consciousness like a boat from a pier, farther and farther, until it turned into a tiny dot. And the tighter you hugged that dot, the more clearly you felt it melting away.

She rose from the table and leaned close to your ear. The tenderness of her breath burned your skin more intensely than a scream.

The stability you had grown so accustomed to cracked, and the crack spread across the walls of the house, across the edges of your heart, across the secret boundary where you end and her will begins. But the voice inside fell silent again: if ruins are the price of her love, then you will let the walls fall.

[sakupoems]

For Good

Katseye Sophia x Fem! Reader

Synopsis: After run-ins with the wonderful wizard, all of Oz is after Sophia with claims that she is the Wicked Witch of the West. But only you knew the truth behind it all.

Warnings: fluff, a bit of angst, contains spoilers for Wicked (it's completely inspired by that universe).

n/a: This is my first work so I apologize if I didn't do very well, I'm thinking about maybe bringing a part 2. English is not my first language!

"Good news! The wicked witch is finally dead!" The munchkins celebrated happily all over Oz.

You knew you had duties to fulfill as the good witch. But you just couldn't.

Not when the wicked witch was Sophia Laforteza. Who was once your best friend. And the love of your life.

The memories of the time when you two studied in Shiz pierced your chest like a dagger. But you forced yourself to leave. You had to smile when you confirmed her death. Even if it meant a part of you was dying along with her.

You're Y/n, the good one. And you needed to act like it.

"Miss Y/n? Is it true that you two were friends?" One of the munchkins asked after you confirmed Sophia's meltdown. And that question hurt.

"Friends? Well... Yes!" The buzz grew louder "I mean... I knew her. Our pasts crossed... In college"

You remember very well when you received the news that Sophia would be your roommate. You tried very hard to ignore and even hate each other, but none of that helped when your eyes lingered on her for longer than normal or how your heart beat faster when you saw her laughing when you did something stupid.

It all started very smoothly, very gently. But it became huge in a short time.

"Do you like Sophia? The Sophia I know? Sophia Laforteza?" Your best friend, Manon, was the first to know. Not in the way you wanted, of course. She just read your diary one random afternoon when she was in your room.

"Well... Yes"

"Y/n, you know very well what she's like... so many people here in Shiz and you fell in love with Sophia?" You knew that Sophia had a somewhat troubled history, especially for supporting the animal causes that were so talked at that time.

"It's not like I chose this." You shrugged and Manon laughed softly.

She opened her mouth to say something – probably to tease you – but closed it immediately when the door opened and her roommate walked in.

You decided to ignore how her eyes softened when they met yours, and the small, unbidden smile that played across her lips.

Because that couldn't mean anything. Right?

You remember in flashbacks the first time you kissed Sophia.

In the second semester of your first year at Shiz, the Ozdust ball took place. Do you remember seeing Sophia being excluded, which had become quite common. Some people even laughed at her for be alone.

You remember how your chest hurt when you saw that situation and the way you walked slowly towards her, like a bride walking down the aisle. You asked her to dance and she accepted.

Her hands rested softly on your waist, as if she was afraid to hold you. Your hands held tightly around Sophia's neck as you moved slowly across the room to the rhythm of the music.

You could feel the eyes of everyone around you judging you. But that didn't matter at the moment.

You ran together, hand in hand, smiling at each other, through the halls of Shiz until you stopped at your shared room.

The two of you were lying on her bed, with her looking at you like you were a treasure. Maybe you really did mean that to her.

"Why?" She whispers softly, afraid of breaking the good mood that was between you "why me?"

"I... I don't know." You whisper back, looking at her intently. "You make me feel... things."

You didn't want to admit it to yourself, but the way Sophia's lips glistened under the dim light of the lamp made you want to taste them. She noticed that.

She noticed your lingering gaze on her lips.

And then she leaned in and kissed you.

It was soft, even romantic, your slightly trembling hands cupping her cheeks, her hands tracing soft circles on your waist. If this was a dream, you didn't want to wake up. Not now.

You remember the letter Sophia received from the wonderful Wizard of Oz and when you embarked together towards the Emerald City, your hands never letting go of hers.

The emerald city was beautiful, happy and even a little funny if you looked closely.

It suited her. It suited both of you.

And you loved it.

The encounter with the Wizard was intense, unexpected. It's not even close to what you had fantasized about.

You remember a book, the grimmerie, and how Sophia would pronounce one of those indecipherable spells as if her tongue were incapable of stopping.

And that sealed her fate.

You stared in terror at the agonizing monkeys with wings growing on their backs while the Wizard had a scary smile on his face.

She did it. Influenced by the wonderful wizard of Oz.

Sophia ran, ran from the Wizard, ran from the guards who were hunting her. And you? You went with her, to a certain extent.

"Y/n, come with me. Think about what we can do together."

You wanted to go. You wanted to get on that damn enchanted broom and fly all over Oz.

But something is stopping you and you don't know what.

"So, are you coming?" She looks at you with teary eyes.

"Soph..." Your mind was screaming at you to accept her proposal. You really wanted to go with her. But you didn't.

"You'll be fine, anyway. They like you." She said fondly. Her eyes looked at you as if it was the last time you would see each other.

Maybe it would be.

"Are you going to be okay?" You ask with a shaky voice.

"I honestly don't know," she whispers, gently cupping your face, "But you will. And that's what matters."

"Sophia..." You whispered, the pain clearly present in your voice. And she kissed you.

It was slow, gentle, full of unshared feelings. Deep down you both knew, but you never said anything.

You quickly moved away when you heard loud knocks on the doors, the Wizard's guards were about to enter.

"Sophia, you need to go." You looked deep into her eyes as you said this.

You loved her.

She held her broom tightly, ready to run away as Oz's number one enemy. As the wicked witch.

"Y/n..." She turned to you and gave you one last peck on the lips "I love you"

You nodded and she jumped out the window, flying away on her broom.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you watched Sophia defy gravity away from you.

You tried to ignore it, but that pain in your chest was real.

[deliciousangelfestival]

50 Director Orson Krennic Headcanons

AKA : Enemies to “You’re Mine, But I’ll Never Say It”

Based on the series The Director's Obsession

Let’s take a short playback before we see Domestic/Husband!Director Orson Krennic 👀💓

He picked you for propaganda because you were a tool. At first. Then you became essential. Now you're his obsession.

He reads every report you write, not for intel, but to hear your voice in his head.

After your first major argument, he didn’t sleep. Not because of guilt. Because he hated not being in control of you.

He has never apologized to anyone in the Empire… until he saw your tears at that damn gala when you were with Marlon (that freaking rebel).

He doesn’t understand emotions. But he understands silence. And yours drives him mad.

He never apologizes. But after you cried in the fundraising gala, he didn’t speak to anyone else for few days. 

You once dreamt of him touching your face. Then woke up and hated yourself for it.

“You’re beautiful.” He never says it. But stares hard enough during fittings that the tailor gets uncomfortable.

The gala wasn’t to show the Death Star. It was to show you to everyone.

He told the tailor you were his wife. He didn’t correct it. He didn’t want to.

The night he carried you to your apartment after the gala, he wanted to stay. But he forced himself to walk away.

When he learned you were kidnapped, he nearly broke the entire Scarif command center in half.

He never said “I was scared.” Instead, he said “You shouldn’t have been alone.”

He didn’t just kill Marlon. He made sure you wouldn’t hear the scream.

He held your body like it was made of glass. Not because you were fragile. Because he was afraid he’d shatter.

He showed you Cinderis burning not for cruelty, but so you’d never feel powerless again.

He let Joric live just long enough to know who destroyed him. That justice was your kiss.

When you fainted after being rescued, he held you the whole shuttle ride back to the Death Star. Didn’t let go. Not once.

He hates politics. But he sat through that Emperor meeting with pride, because you spoke.

He doesn’t get jealous of power. Except when Tarkin or Mas Amedda look at you too long.

He watches you in meetings. Not for mistakes. But because you’re the only thing in the room that’s his.

He memorized the pressure point on your back where your injury is. He never touches it again.

He refers to you as “my asset” in reports. But never when you’re in the room. Then it’s just your name.

When Mia joked about firing him using her nepotism, he actually smiled. A real one. Because he knew you holding back from laughing.

He keeps the pen you stabbed Joric with. It’s in a locked case. It has more value than the kyber crystal.

He once told Jung, "Don’t speak unless she’s present."

After you kissed him, he didn’t sleep. He paced. Because you took control. And he loved it.

He rewatches your ISB interrogation footage. Not for intel. For your fire.

He sometimes repeats your lines from propaganda to himself. Because your words got him what he wanted.

The Death Star is his life’s work. But now he thinks it means nothing if you don’t stand beside it.

He hasn’t told you yet. But he already knows how he wants you to look on your wedding day.

He watched the camera footage of you walking through the gala entrance 47 times. Not for security. Just to replay how they stared.

He custom-ordered your dress before the gala. He told the designer: “Make it look like she could end a war with a glance.”

He remembers the exact moment your voice cracked during your outburst in front of ISB. That sound haunts him more than the rebel attacks.

The night he told you to call him Orson, he couldn’t stop repeating it in his head after you said it. Like a confession.

He’s terrified of how much you matter. So he covers it with threats, control, and silk-lined sarcasm.

He won’t say “I love you.” But when the Emperor commended you, he said, “That’s my doing.”

He doesn’t dream often. when he does, it’s you on the observation deck. Wearing his cape. Giving the orders.

He once threatened a Death Trooper for “touching her too roughly” while lifting you to safety. The trooper now guards garbage chutes on a mining asteroid.

After he killed Joric, he ordered the Death Star crew not to clear the footage. He wanted you to see it. Proof.

He doesn’t like music. But after your gala dance, he requested the orchestra’s sheet. “To study tempo,” he claimed. He never returned it.

He memorized the measurements the tailor took of you. Not for obsession. For control. For readiness. (Wedding Dress?)

He keeps your broken earpiece from the day of the gala. Found it himself. Cleaned the blood off. It's in a case labeled "unknown hardware."

He personally sent a warning to Mon Mothma. Not official. Not traceable. Just one message: “Try again, and I’ll burn your planet too.”

He doesn’t say “I missed you.” He just shows up. Late. Quiet. Always when you least expect it.

He once imagined how it would feel if you left. It gave him a headache for three hours. He canceled three meetings.

He still wears the cufflink you adjusted for him before the gala. Hasn’t taken it off since.

He corrects anyone who refers to you by title only. “Agent” is fine. But if they skip your name, he’ll repeat it aloud with venom.

He could have any propagandist. But he will burn through every system before he lets another write in your place.

Krennic doesn’t believe in love. Until you kissed him. Then, maybe. Just maybe. He started to.

Sorry if I tagged you without permission. If you want to be removed, please let me know.

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Please feel free to leave your comments. I'd love to know what you think. What do you want too see in the next chapter?

My book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing are on Kindle.

Check it out!Link for Arrogant Ex-Husband

Amazon.com

Link for Dad I Can't Let You Go

Amazon.com: Dad, I Can't Let You Go eBook : Bing, Alina C.: Kindle Store

[lumosflairr]

Since you're absolutely brilliant with long, detailed Harry James Potter fics, I've got a long request here (only if it's cool with you):

After the war, Harry and the reader reconnect as adults (after Harry & Ginny break up). The reader always had feelings for Harry during their Hogwarts years but the time was never right for them. Eventually the reader met someone else and tried to move on but is not 100% happy with the relationship. Harry eventually admits his feelings for the reader, but she rebuffs him saying she feels like she's second to Ginny (or Cho) and thinks he's settling for her. That night, Harry and the reader are visited by James and Lily respectively in their dreams, telling them that true love is worth fighting for. The reader realizes she's the one who's settling, so she leaves her current boyfriend and gives Harry a chance.

All This Time - Harry j. Potter

warnings: 18+ smut! fem!reader, angst, fluff, mentions of violence, mature themes and languages, unprotected p in v.

as always, thank you for your request! I fell in love with this idea and I apologize it took so long🥲!

The war didn’t end in a single moment — it bled out slowly, painfully, leaving behind more ghosts than survivors.

The final battle may have marked victory on paper, but the cost echoed far beyond the walls of Hogwarts. Rubble was cleared, bodies buried, names carved into marble, but no spell existed that could stitch back the parts of you the war had carved out.

It took months to clear the Forbidden Forest of dark magic. Years for families to recover — if they ever did. And longer still for the silence to return to Godric’s Hollow, where grief had made a permanent home in the walls.

You could still hear the screams if you let your mind go quiet long enough.

Sometimes, you did. Just to remind yourself it was real.

You weren’t a war hero. Not like Harry, not like the names people whispered with reverence now — Neville Longbottom, Kingsley Shacklebolt, even Ginny Weasley. But you fought. You survived. And that, somehow, had to be enough.

Every morning, you still walked past the wall of the fallen in the Ministry atrium — names etched in charmed stone, always glowing faint gold. Some days you read them. Most days you couldn’t bear to look. Too many friends. Too many if-onlys.

You worked in the Department of Magical Cooperation now. Diplomatic, polished, quiet. The kind of work that made your mother proud and let your father sleep at night knowing you weren’t in danger anymore. You were good at it — pleasant, reliable, untouchable. People liked you. They always had.

You kept your robes ironed, your reports punctual, and your grief tucked away behind a polished smile. In a world desperate for normalcy, you were the poster child of moving on.

Samuel helped with that.

He was kind, thoughtful, charming in a quiet, dependable sort of way. The kind of man who brewed your tea the way you liked it and remembered your meeting schedules without being asked. His family had money, his flat was in a good part of London, and his laugh never reminded you of someone you’d lost.

You didn’t love him.

But it was easier to pretend you might than to admit you probably never would. You told yourself that after everything — after blood and fire and watching friends die with wands still clutched in their hands — comfort was enough.That love was for people who hadn’t already used up all their heart.

And once, you had.

Years ago — back when you were just a girl with ink-stained fingers and too much hope folded between your class notes — you’d been head over heels for Harry Potter.

It had never been loud or obvious. Not like the girls who giggled behind their hands when he passed in the corridor. You kept your feelings tucked beneath quiet smiles and shared looks across the common room, in moments when he laughed too hard at something Ron said, or when he’d catch your eye after practice and nod like you did well, I saw you — even if you hadn’t been trying to impress him.

He made you feel like you mattered — not because you were extraordinary, but because he noticed even the ordinary things. Like how you bit your lip when you were thinking. Or how you always brought an extra quill to class in case someone forgot theirs. Or how you never backed down when Snape tried to humiliate someone just because he could.

He had a way of making the chaos around him feel quieter when you were close. And in the little stolen moments — between DA meetings, library study sessions, and late-night conversations by the fire — you started to believe maybe, just maybe, he felt it too.

Then one day, he walked into breakfast hand-in-hand with Ginny Weasley.

And just like that, every hope you’d carefully tended over the years crumbled with a smile on his face that wasn’t meant for you.

You remembered sitting two seats down from them at the Gryffindor table, trying not to stare, trying to swallow the burn behind your eyes. Telling yourself you were happy for him. That Ginny was brave and bright and right for someone like him.

After that, you avoided him.

Not out of bitterness — you could never hate Harry — but because looking at him felt like staring directly into the sun. Too warm. Too much. Too painful.

You stopped sitting near him in the common room. Stopped volunteering for DA meetings where you’d be paired up. You even stopped going to Quidditch matches, though you used to love them, just so you wouldn’t have to see him flying high and grinning down at her in the stands.

You smiled when he passed you in the corridors. Spoke when spoken to. Kept your distance with the precision of someone trying not to bleed.

And no one noticed, not even him.

That was the part that hurt the most.

He didn’t even seem to notice you were pulling away. As if the quiet girl who had once stood by his side, who had carried feelings for him like secret spells whispered to herself in the dark, had never really mattered.

You carried on like that for months. Holding yourself together with threadbare strength and pretending that the hollow feeling in your chest was normal — that the ache would pass. That you’d wake up one day and find it had melted away like frost on the window.

But it didn’t.

It sat there. Quiet. Heavy. Constant.

Like something inside you had been stolen without permission.

So, when the war came — when everything you knew crumbled beneath fire and fear — a part of you welcomed it. At least then, the ache had company. At least then, everyone was broken.

Afterward, when the dust settled and people began picking up the pieces of their lives, you tried too. You went where it was safe. You chose the path that didn’t hurt. You let go of what could have been.

You told yourself Harry was your past, and Samuel could be your future. But even now, years later — surrounded by peace and normalcy and a man who never raised his voice or forgot your birthday — you still woke some mornings with that same old hollow ache.

The kind of emptiness that didn’t ask to be filled.

Just endured.

You saw Harry sometimes. Not often. Just quick glances across the atrium or in a lift he stepped out of as you stepped in. Always brief. Always distant. He looked different now. Broader. Older. But his eyes were the same — still too green, still too honest.

You told Samuel you were staying late at work, but really, you just needed air — real air. The kind that didn’t smell like paper or ink or polite conversation.

You ended up at a little wizarding pub tucked between two record shops in Camden — a place you used to frequent in the months right after the war, when forgetting felt easier than remembering. It was dim and smoky, with charm-tarnished sconces and cheap pints. No one cared who you were. No one asked you to smile.

You slipped onto a barstool in the corner and ordered something stronger than wine. You weren’t sure what you were trying to feel — or forget.

The fire crackled lazily behind the bar, casting flickering shadows across the scuffed floorboards. A few witches laughed in the far corner, their voices softened by the haze of cigarette smoke and old enchantments. Somewhere near the back, a Muggle record played quietly — something slow and aching. You took another sip.

And then you felt it.

That prickling awareness, like being watched. Like some invisible thread tugged tight through the thick of the room and stitched itself to you. You turned your head — slowly, cautiously, like maybe you already knew what you’d see.

And there he was.

Harry.

Sitting alone in a booth, a few tables across the pub. His hand rested around a glass of something amber and untouched, eyes downcast until, like some quiet inevitability, he looked up.

The world didn’t stop — the pub still buzzed, music still played, your drink still sat half-full in your hand — but something in you did. Froze. Caved inward.

For a second, he just stared. Like he couldn’t believe it was really you. And you — you couldn’t believe how much he still looked the same.

Tired, yes. Worn down in ways the war never stopped demanding. But still Harry. The curve of his jaw, the crease between his brows, the unmistakable way he carried his silence like a second skin. You wondered where Ginny was. You wondered why he looked so alone.

He blinked once. Then, slowly, deliberately, he stood.

Your fingers tightened around your glass. Instinct screamed to look away — to pretend you hadn’t seen him, to protect whatever fragile thread of peace you’d built inside yourself. But you didn’t.

You held his gaze, even as he crossed the room with hesitant steps — like he wasn’t sure if he was welcome.

When he reached you, he didn’t sit. He didn’t speak right away either.

Just looked at you like he hadn’t seen you in years.

Which, really, he hadn’t.

“Hey,” he said finally, his voice low, rough-edged in a way it hadn’t been back then.

You swallowed. “Hey.”

You looked down at your drink. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, voice gentler now.

You nodded, unsure why your heart was thudding so loudly in your chest. He slid into the seat next to you, just close enough for you to feel the warmth of him — the same warmth that had once stood shoulder-to-shoulder with you in battles and libraries and corridors that now only existed in memory.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, eyes scanning the room like it might explain something. “Thought you didn’t come to places like this anymore.”

“Neither did I,” you replied, a slight smile tugging at your mouth. “But apparently, I lied to myself today.”

That made him smile too. Small, tired, real.

“How have you been?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Busy. Work’s been… steady. Long days. Paperwork. Peace treaties.”

“Sounds thrilling,” he said with a smirk.

You glanced sideways at him. “Didn’t know you kept tabs.”

“I don’t,” he said honestly. “Hermione mentions you sometimes. Says you’re one of the only competent people left in your department.”

“That’s dangerously flattering coming from her,” you muttered, raising your glass to your lips.

“She also says you look tired. Worn thin,” he added, quieter now.

That made you pause.

“Well,” you said, setting your glass down. “Peace takes more out of you than war sometimes. At least in war, the pain is obvious.”

He didn’t respond right away. Just watched you with that same quiet focus he used to wear when he thought no one noticed. Like he was trying to see beneath the skin of your words.

“You still with—Samuel, right?” he asked, eyes flickering to the ringless hand resting on the bar.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“Is it… good?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question — by the way he asked it. Not like he was prying. More like it hurt him to know but hurt him more not to.

“It’s… safe,” you said finally.

He nodded like he understood. But he didn’t say anything for a long moment.

Then, softly: “You used to laugh more.”

The words hung between you like breath on a windowpane — fragile, fading. You didn’t respond. Couldn’t. So you just looked at him. And for a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all. Like you were seventeen again, and the world hadn’t ended yet.

And then, just as quickly, the moment cracked.

“What about you?” you asked, clearing your throat. “How’s Ginny?”

He looked down at his drink.

“We’re not together anymore,” he said. “Split up a while ago.”

you sat in silence, somewhat stunned.

“Sorry,” you said softly.

He shook his head. “Don’t be. Some things… just end.”

“Still,” he added, looking at you again. “Some things don’t.”

That was too much.

Too close.

Your throat tightened around something unnamed, and suddenly the room felt too warm — the walls too close, his eyes too familiar.

You pushed your chair back, slow and careful. “I should probably head out,” you said, forcing your voice to sound steady. “Long day tomorrow.”

He blinked, like maybe he hadn’t expected the conversation to end there. But he nodded. “Yeah. Of course.”

A pause settled between you, heavier than it should have been. You both stood, and the rhythm of conversation shifted — the way it always does when the moment is over but no one really wants it to be.

“I’ll grab the bill,” he offered, reaching into his coat.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you replied. “We’re not at Hogwarts anymore — I make my own money now.”

That earned the faintest laugh from him. “Right. Sorry. Forgot you’re a responsible adult.”

“Someone has to be,” you said lightly, though your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes.

You paid your tabs, standing side by side at the counter like nothing had just cracked open between you. The bartender gave Harry a nod of vague recognition. You didn’t look at him again until you were back outside. The air had cooled. The night wrapped around you like a quiet excuse to end this.

“It was… really good to see you,” Harry said, his voice softer now, almost careful. “I wasn’t expecting it, but I’m glad it happened.”

You nodded, arms folded loosely in front of you. “Yeah. It was nice.”

Another silence — not awkward, just fragile. He hesitated like he might say more. But he didn’t. Instead, he just gave you a small, tentative smile.

“Goodnight,” he said.

“Goodnight, Harry.”

And then he was gone — Disapparated with a quiet crack — leaving you standing under the dull streetlamp, feeling like a version of yourself you hadn’t let surface in years.

The flat was warm when you walked in. Samuel always kept it that way — said the cold made the place feel lifeless.

“Hey, love,” he called from the kitchen, voice easy and content. “I thought you were working late.”

You forced a smile, setting your coat on the hook. “Finished earlier than I thought.”

He was plating dinner. Something creamy and rich, smelling of herbs and comfort. Two glasses of wine already poured. A lit candle flickered gently in the center of the table, like he’d tried to make the night special without asking for anything in return.

He was always like that.

Thoughtful. Steady. Good.

He crossed the kitchen and kissed your cheek, his hand resting warmly against your back. “Missed you today,” he murmured. “You look beautiful.” You smiled again, the motion mechanical now. “Thanks.”

You let him guide you to the table. Sat across from him. Talked about small things — work reports, one of his coworkers getting promoted, the weather — all while feeling like your ribs were a cage too small for the ache growing inside. You laughed when he said something funny. You touched his hand when he reached for yours.

You pretended.

And when dinner ended and the dishes were done, you let him hold you on the couch while some Muggle show droned on in the background. His hand brushed your hair, his thumb sweeping soft, rhythmic circles over your shoulder.

You’re quiet tonight,” he said against your temple.

You shook your head gently. “Just tired.”

He kissed the top of your head and pulled you closer. You didn’t move, but you didn’t relax either. When he finally fell asleep beside you— breathing slow, arm still wrapped around your waist, you slipped free and padded quietly down the hall to the bathroom.

The light was harsh when you flicked it on.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror like it belonged to someone else. Like the girl in the glass should be happy with this life. Shouldn’t still be haunted by green eyes and words that came too late.

You sat on the edge of the tub and let yourself cry.

Not loud, not messy — just silent, helpless tears that trailed down your cheeks without permission.

You hated this.

Hated that you couldn’t love Samuel the way he deserved. That no matter how good he was, your heart still ached for someone who hadn’t payed you any mind since sixth year of school.

You hated that one conversation with Harry had unraveled you. That his voice still echoed in your chest.

That part of you wanted to believe he meant it — that it wasn’t just loneliness, or nostalgia, or regret.

But the other part… the part still bruised from the day he forgot you existed the moment Ginny touched his hand… that part wasn’t ready to forgive. And yet… you still loved him.Through all of it. Quietly. Desperately. And it was killing you.

You didn’t sleep much that night.

By the time the sun rose, your eyes were dry, but your chest still felt heavy — like someone had carved out space behind your ribs and left nothing in its place. You didn’t mention the tears. Not to Samuel. Not to yourself.

Instead, you went through the motions — you got dressed, combed your hair, kissed him goodbye. Told him you’d be late again, even though you weren’t sure if you were lying this time.

Work passed in a blur. Paperwork. Meetings. Smiles you didn’t mean. Your hands shook slightly when you poured yourself a cup of tea, and you almost spilled it. But no one noticed. They never did.It was nearly 7 p.m. when you left the Ministry. The rain had started sometime after dusk, drizzling softly at first, then opening up into a steady downpour. You hadn’t brought a cloak — hadn’t checked the forecast — so you stood under the nearest enchanted awning just outside the Ministry, arms folded, watching the streetlamps smear across the wet pavement.

You didn’t want to go home. Not yet.

Maybe not at all.

You watched people rush past you — cloaks pulled over their heads, hoods charmed against the rain. Everyone moving. Everyone with somewhere to be.

And you just… stood there. Alone in the crowd.

Until a voice, low and unmistakable, spoke behind you.

“You always hated the rain.”

You turned.

Harry stood a few feet away, water dripping from his hair, his glasses slightly fogged. He looked soaked — like he hadn’t cared enough to shield himself. Like the storm didn’t bother him anymore.

Your heart skipped in your chest — painful and sudden.

“I didn’t hear you,” you said quietly.

“I saw you from across the square.” He nodded to the awning. “Didn’t want you standing here freezing.”

You looked away. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t leave.

Instead, he stepped closer and extended a small, half-charmed umbrella — one of those awkward, flickering ones Muggle-borns favored. It was barely working, but the gesture was kind.

“I can walk you home,” he offered. “If you want.”

You hesitated. Then nodded.

You walked in silence for a while. The only sound was rain tapping against stone, the splash of puddles under your shoes. His umbrella barely covered both of you, which meant his arm brushed yours occasionally — enough to make you feel every inch of space and every unspoken word between you.

“I used to imagine this,” he said finally, voice quiet. “Just… walking with you. Somewhere normal. Somewhere safe.”

You didn’t respond.

He looked down. “That night in the pub. I wasn’t expecting to see you. But it… it meant something.”

You clenched your jaw. “Harry…”

He slowed. “I just— I need you to know I didn’t come to you because Ginny and I ended.”

Your footsteps faltered.

He stopped walking, looking at you now — in the half-light, rain dripping from the edge of his umbrella, green eyes clearer than they had been in years.

“I should’ve said something a long time ago,” he went on. “But I didn’t. I was scared. Of everything. Of losing more. And I was stupid enough to think burying what I felt for you would make it go away.”

You blinked, breath catching.

He stepped closer. “But it didn’t. It never did.”

You shook your head. Not angrily — just tired. Tired in your bones.

“I can’t do this, Harry,” you said softly. “Not like this.”

His face fell, but he didn’t interrupt.

“I’m not going to be your rebound,” you continued. “You didn’t talk to me for years. You chose Ginny. You abandoned me. And now that it’s over, you show up, and—” your voice cracked despite you “—and you say these things like it didn’t wreck me when you forgot I existed.”

“I didn’t forget,” he said quickly, stepping closer again. “I couldn’t forget.”

“But you did,” you whispered. “When she walked in, I disappeared.”

He was silent.

You looked away, rain blurring your vision. You couldn’t tell if it was tears again or just the storm.

“I’m still trying to be okay with that,” you said. “Still trying to love someone else. Still trying to stop hoping you’d come back.”

A long pause.

And then Harry — voice barely audible — said, “I don’t want you to be someone I come back to. I want you to be where I belong.”

That nearly broke you.

But instead, you took a step back, gently out from under the umbrella. “I need time,” you said. “Please.”

Harry didn’t argue.

He just nodded, jaw tight, eyes dim.

“Okay.”

And with a soft crack, he was gone.The rain fell harder now. And for the first time that night, you let it soak you through. Because at least it covered the sound of your heart breaking all over again.

⸻

That night, sleep came only after exhaustion did. You didn’t remember lying down. Only the feeling of rain still clinging to your skin, and the ache in your chest like something had finally split open.

Then — somewhere between midnight and dawn — you found yourself standing in the middle of the old Hogwarts courtyard. But it wasn’t ruined. It was how it used to be.

The stone was warm under your feet. The air smelled of damp earth and ancient magic. The sky above was soft, painted in shades of twilight.

You turned slowly, disoriented by the stillness.

And that’s when you saw them. Two figures sitting on the low stone wall beneath the archway, bathed in gentle light. You knew who they were before you could speak.

Lily Potter smiled first — her eyes unmistakably green, her presence like warmth from a fire you hadn’t felt in years. James stood beside her, hands in his pockets, looking at you like he already understood everything you were feeling.

“Hi,” Lily said gently.

You opened your mouth, but no words came.

“It’s alright,” James added. “You don’t need to say anything yet.”

You blinked at them, heart pounding — not in fear, but in something like awe. “Is this real?”

“As much as it needs to be,” Lily said with a soft laugh. “Dreams are just another kind of magic, after all.”

You stepped forward slowly, like the moment might vanish if you moved too fast.

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” you said. “Why now?”

Lily tilted her head. “Because you’re hurting. And sometimes, the people we’ve lost — and the ones we’re meant for — can feel that, even from far away.”

James nodded. “Harry’s hurting too.”

Your breath caught. “I don’t want to be something he runs to because he’s broken,” you said. “I don’t want to be a second choice.”

“You’re not,” James said quietly, stepping toward you. “You never were.”

“But he forgot me,” you said. “He found someone else. He moved on, but I never did. I never could.”

Lily’s eyes softened, glowing in that impossible, dreamlike way. “He tried. People move in the wrong direction all the time when they’re scared. That doesn’t mean their heart wasn’t always facing the right way.”

You looked down, shame curling in your chest.

“I still love him,” you whispered. “And I hate that I do.”

“That’s not hate,” Lily said. “That’s fear.”

James gave a soft smile. “And you’re allowed to be afraid. But don’t confuse fear with truth.”

For a moment, you just stood there in the courtyard — surrounded by the ghosts of your own heart.

Then Lily reached forward and took your hand.

“Real love doesn’t show up only when it’s convenient,” she said. “It returns. It fights. It chooses. And Harry—he’s choosing you. Not because you’re left. But because you’re right.”

Tears welled in your eyes.

“You don’t have to decide tonight,” James added. “But don’t shut the door just because it hurts to open it.”

The world began to blur around the edges — colors softening, sound falling away.

You looked at them one last time. “Tell him…” your voice cracked. “Tell him I’m scared.”

Lily smiled. “He already knows.”

And just before the dream faded completely, she whispered:

“Be brave, sweetheart. You always were.”

⸻

You woke with damp cheeks and a weightless feeling in your chest — like something had lifted.

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel stuck.

The morning sun streamed through the kitchen window, warm and golden, casting soft light on the countertop where Samuel stood making coffee.

You watched him from the doorway, your coat still on, hands clenched around the strap of your bag.

You hadn’t touched your tea. You hadn’t said much since waking up.

But you’d made your decision.

And now it was time.

He turned to you with that familiar, gentle smile — the one that never reached deep enough to stir your heart, though you always wished it had.

“You’re quiet again,” he said softly. “Everything alright?”

You inhaled slowly. “Samuel… can we talk?”

He paused, the smile fading. He set the mug down. The quiet clink of porcelain was louder than it should have been. “Of course,” he said carefully. “What is it?”

Your throat tightened. You looked down at your hands — then back up at him.

“I’m sorry,” you began, voice already shaking. “I should’ve said this sooner. I’ve tried to convince myself I could keep pretending, but I can’t. I’m not being fair to you.”

His eyes searched yours. “What are you talking about?”

You stepped closer, but not too close. “I care about you,” you said. “You’re kind. You’ve been good to me. And I wanted so badly for that to be enough. But it’s not.”

He stared at you, hurt flashing across his features. “Is this about him?”

You didn’t have to ask who he meant. You nodded once. “It’s always been about him.”

Samuel exhaled, looking away for a moment like the truth physically stung. “You told me it was over.”

“I thought it was,” you said. “For years, I thought I had let him go. But I didn’t. I just buried it. And now that it’s surfaced again… I can’t lie to you. Not anymore.”

His shoulders slumped slightly. “Do you love him?”

“Yes,” you said, because you owed him honesty now more than ever. “I think I always have.”

A long silence passed. One that ached with finality.

“And what am I, then?” he asked, not accusing — just tired. “Was I just… filling the space?”

“No,” you said quickly. “You were the first person who made me feel safe again. But safety isn’t the same as love. You deserve more than what I’ve been able to give you.”

He looked down, jaw tight. “So that’s it.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never wanted to.”

He nodded slowly. Then, with a quiet, broken smile: “I know.”

You took a shaky breath. “I’m going to go. I’ve already packed some things. I’ll come back for the rest later, when it’s easier.”

Samuel didn’t stop you. He just stood there, heartbroken and still, as you opened the door. And before you left, you turned back one last time.

“Thank you,” you said. “For everything you gave me. I hope one day you find someone who gives that back to you. Fully.”

He didn’t say anything.

But he nodded.

And you walked away — into the morning light, with your heart heavy, but your future finally clear.

⸻

The cab stopped just outside the quiet lane in Godric’s Hollow. His house sat at the end of the street — modest, ivy-covered, familiar in a way that made your heart lurch.

You hadn’t told him you were coming. You hadn’t given yourself time to overthink it. You just knew.

It had always been him.

The sky was soft and gray above, a breeze brushing your skin as you stepped out of the car, barely hearing the door shut behind you.

And then — the front door opened. Harry stepped out onto the porch and froze.

He stared at you like he wasn’t sure you were real. His hair was messy, his shirt rumpled, like he hadn’t planned on anyone seeing him today — but his eyes… those eyes were lit with something you hadn’t seen in years.

Hope.

You didn’t say a word. Neither did he. You just ran. Feet hit gravel, breath caught in your throat — and then he was moving too, meeting you halfway down the path like a storm finally breaking.

And when you reached each other, everything else vanished.

His hands cupped your face as your mouth crashed into his — desperate, deep, like he needed to memorize the taste of you all over again. Your fingers tangled in the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer, anchoring yourself in the heat of him.

The kiss wasn’t slow. It was hungry. All the years you’d spent apart, the silence, the heartbreak, the aching what-ifs — it all poured into that kiss like magic finally unleashed.

Harry groaned against your lips, his thumbs brushing your jaw, your cheeks, as if he couldn’t stop touching you — couldn’t believe you were really here. You gasped when his lips parted yours only to kiss you deeper, hotter, tongue sliding against yours like he wanted to undo the years with his mouth alone.

Your hands found his chest, gripping fistfuls of fabric as he backed you gently against the porch railing, his body pressing into yours like he needed to feel every inch — like being close still wasn’t close enough.

His breath was ragged when he finally pulled back just enough to look at you.

“You came,” he whispered, forehead resting against yours, his voice rough and thick with emotion.

“I left him,” you said. “Because I couldn’t lie anymore. Not to him. Not to myself.”

Harry’s eyes searched yours — burning, open, undeniably full of love. “I wanted to wait,” he said. “To give you space. But I’ve been hoping every day since that night you’d walk through that door.”

You smiled softly through the sting in your eyes. “So I used the front gate instead.” That made him laugh, shaky and breathless. And then he kissed you again, His lips moved against yours like he was trying to relearn you. Like he’d never forgotten. Your fingers slid into his hair, tugging gently, and the low sound that rumbled in his throat made something flutter between your legs.

His hands, large and warm, skimmed down your sides, stopping at your waist — but the grip there tightened, like he was holding back.

“Harry…” you breathed, your voice unsteady.

He pulled back just far enough to look at you, lips red, eyes darker now — stormy with want. “Tell me to stop. If you want me to—”

“I don’t,” you said quickly, eyes searching his. “I don’t want you to stop.”

His jaw clenched. “If we go inside…”

“Take me upstairs,” you whispered. “Please.”

That was all it took.

He kissed you again — rougher this time, messier — all tongue and teeth and groaned breaths as he pulled you against him fully. You could feel just how much he wanted you, hard and pressing through his jeans, and the friction sent a sharp jolt straight through your core.

Then suddenly you were moving — his hand finding yours, lacing your fingers together as he led you inside. The door slammed behind you with a thud, and he didn’t waste a second.

His mouth was on yours again before you reached the stairs, pushing you gently against the wall near the banister. You gasped as his hands found your thighs, lifting you effortlessly so your legs wrapped around his waist. He carried you like you weighed nothing, like letting go even for a second wasn’t an option.

“God,” he murmured into your neck, “I’ve thought about this. So many times. What it’d be like to feel you again. To have you.”

“Then don’t stop,” you whispered, arching into him. “I want this, Harry. I want you.”

That was it — the last thread of restraint snapped.

He carried you up the stairs with a kind of urgency that made your heart race, your back brushing against the wall at every landing until you finally reached his room. The second he kicked the door shut, his lips were back on yours. His hands tugged at your coat, then your shirt, moving like he couldn’t decide whether to strip you slow or tear everything off in one go.

You helped him decide — pulling your top over your head and tossing it aside, your bra gone with one flick of his fingers like he’d never forgotten how to undress you.

“Fuck,” he muttered, staring down at you. “You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You pulled him in again, kissed him like you were starved for him — because you were. And when he groaned into your mouth and ground his hips into yours, you felt exactly how much he needed this too.

You pulled him in again, kissed him like you were starved for him — because you were.

And when he groaned into your mouth and ground his hips into yours, you felt exactly how much he needed this too.

He broke the kiss just long enough to press his forehead to yours, breathing hard. “Lie back.”

The rasp in his voice sent a tremble through you.

You obeyed, settling against the pillows, chest rising and falling with every breath. He moved slowly — not out of hesitation, but reverence — hands trailing down your sides as he kissed his way down your neck, your collarbone, lower.

“I’ve thought about this,” he murmured, lips brushing over your skin. “More times than I can admit.”

You shivered as his hands slid down your stomach, thumbs teasing along the waist of your trousers. Then, with slow, skilled fingers, he peeled them down — along with your knickers — and tossed them aside.

He knelt between your legs, eyes dark and hungry.

“Open for me.”

The second you did, his mouth was on you.

Warm. Wet. Unrelenting.

Your back arched as his tongue moved with sinful precision — slow circles that had your breath catching, then fast flicks that made your thighs tremble. He moaned against you, like you were the one driving him mad, and the vibrations sent sparks pulsing through every nerve.

You grabbed the sheets, gasping his name as his hands held your hips down — like he knew you’d try to lift off the bed. Like he wanted to take his time unraveling you.

“Harry—oh, God—please…”

He didn’t stop. He just grinned into you, then sucked — slow, deep pressure that sent you spiraling. The tension coiled fast, tight, and your cries broke into broken syllables as the wave crashed over you.

Your release hit like fire. And he didn’t let up — not until you were spent and shaking beneath him, panting like your lungs couldn’t keep up. Then he kissed his way back up your body, slow and adoring, like he was savoring every inch.

His mouth crashed into yours again, messier this time, all tongue and teeth and hot breath. You felt him — hard and heavy against your thigh — and reached down to free him, your hand wrapping around him with a touch that made him groan deep in his throat.

He grabbed your leg and hitched it over his hip, lining himself up — but didn’t move yet.

Instead, he looked down at you like this was everything he’d ever wanted.

“I love you,” he said, voice rough with emotion. “I always have.”

“I know,” you whispered, pulling him in. “Show me.”

And then he pressed inside.

The stretch, the heat, the feeling of him filling you completely — it stole the breath from your lungs. He moved slow at first, burying himself deep, groaning at the feel of you wrapped around him.

You clung to him, nails in his back, moaning softly as he began to thrust — slow, deep rolls of his hips that made you see stars.

Every movement was a confession. Every moan a promise.

He kissed your lips, your neck, your shoulder, whispering your name like a prayer as your bodies moved together — faster now, harder — until nothing else existed but this.

Until the only thing that mattered was the way you both came apart together.

⸻

The room was quiet now. The storm outside had passed, leaving only the hush of wind rustling the trees beyond the window. The moonlight spilled in through the curtains, pale and silvery, casting soft shadows across the sheets — across him. Harry layed beside you, one arm tucked beneath your head, the other wrapped securely around your waist. His skin was warm against yours. His breath slow, steady. Grounding.

You turned toward him, resting your head on his chest, listening to the soft, rhythmic thump of his heart.

“I almost didn’t come,” you whispered.

His fingers traced lazy circles along your back. “I know.”

You looked up at him. “I was scared.”

“So was I.”

You both went quiet again, not because there was nothing to say, but because for the first time… there was no pressure to fill the silence.

Then Harry tilted your chin gently, making you meet his eyes. “I need you to know,” he said softly, “that it was never about Ginny. Or Cho. Or timing. It was always you.”

Your eyes stung again, but not with pain — with the ache of finally being seen. Being chosen. “I used to think you forgot about me,” you admitted, voice cracking. “That I was easy to leave behind.”

His expression shattered with tenderness. “I never forgot you. I just… didn’t believe I deserved you. You were always this light — and after the war, I was so lost in the dark.”

“You don’t have to do that anymore,” you said. “You don’t have to carry it alone.”

He kissed your forehead — slow and reverent. “And neither do you.”

You smiled, tears slipping silently down your cheeks as you tucked your face into the crook of his neck.

It was quiet again for a moment. Then he whispered, “I love you.” Your heart fluttered.

“I’ve loved you since the train ride to fifth year,” he continued, his voice thick. “You had ink on your cheek and you were defending Neville in front of a seventh year like it was nothing. I was gone from that moment on.”

You laughed, breathless, overwhelmed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was fifteen. Stupid. And terrified of messing it up.”

You shook your head, brushing your nose against his jaw. “Well… we still took the long way.”

He smiled, holding you tighter. “But we made it.”

You nodded against his chest, closing your eyes.

“We made it.”

And for the first time in a very long time… you believed it. Not because he said the right words. Not because the kiss was perfect. Not even because of Lily and James in your dreams.

But because you were here.

With him.

With nothing left to prove, and everything left to build.

And as Harry’s fingers threaded through yours beneath the sheets, you knew this wasn’t just an ending.It was the beginning of something real.

Something worth fighting for.

[saturnyo]

Guitar Strings & Gunpowder

Pairing: JacksonEllie x Blind Reader

Summary: You've been on your own for as long as you can remember, save for the occasional partnership when you needed supplies. Life after the outbreak was tough for everyone, especially you...since birth, you were blind. Having to learn how to go through life and survive infected and other terrible shit life throws at you. One day, while taking a rest from traveling, someone approaches you and her offer to help changes your life.

Warnings: Blindness/Disability Representation, Mild Violence/Tension, Romance and Intimacy, no smut(sorry)

WC: 2.3k

Snow had a unique sound to it.

The way it would crunch underneath your boot. Or the feeling of it against your palm as you crushed it in your hands.

You wanted to understand the feeling of being free, of being uninhibited. You can take care of yourself; in fact, being born blind helped hone your skills, sharpening them beyond what everyone could do, and what they never bothered to develop. Living in this world, surrounded by near-death, fear, and silence, constantly forces you to rely on no one. And not to let them take advantage of the fact that you couldn’t see. There were no secret superhuman powers, just your grit, patience, and your stubborn refusal to give up.

And right now, your boots press into the snow that’s colder than usual, sloshy and slick as you searched for supplies.

Your supplies had been running low for quite a while; the only things left were a small bottle of water and a can of peaches, which you were sure had mold in it from being stored on a shelf for over twenty years. You hadn’t cracked into it just yet, not wanting to come to terms with the fact that you could go hungry in a matter of days. Everything you came across was picked over or destroyed, and no one had the heart to offer supplies. Which, in a way, you understood, but it still didn’t help your situation.

The stick in your hand tapping in front of your feet helps you know where it’s safe to step, aside from the birds chirping, the only other sound in your ears. It was a welcoming feeling hearing nature reclaim its space after everything fell apart, but what came after the fall was terror. It made you tougher, smarter, but more cynical. Stopping to take a breather, you find a log to sit down on and take a moment to rest before continuing, with no actual destination in mind.

A few moments pass

And then you heard it…footsteps.

It’s not infected, but it could be a raider or someone else wanting to take advantage of a lone girl in the woods. You quickly stand up holding the stick like a baseball bat.

“Who are you?” you demanded, trying to hide the slight shakiness in your voice.

There was a pause. The wind is blowing through the trees. And then a voice, sweet and soothing.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the voice said. “It wasn’t my intention.”

Her tone held complacency, but also a command. Not to demean you, but to calm you.

“You still didn’t answer my question,” you said, firm now.

“Ellie. I’m from Jackson. Just out on Patrol.”

Patrol. The word settles uneasily and makes your stomach churn. The type of people who take what they want and do not apologize for it.

You straighten your spine, raising the stick higher.

“And why the hell are you sneaking up on people, Ellie?”

“I wasn’t trying to,” she said. “I saw you were alone, thought you needed help.”

“Wrong.”

The silence settled again. A bird chirped only once.

You hear her shift on her feet, even though you couldn’t see, you could still feel. And her eyes were searching you, gauging what kind of person you could be.

“Are you going to swing that stick at me?”

“Depends. You plan on getting closer?”

Another pause. Then a silent, short chuckle.

“No. Not unless you want me to.”

That caught you off guard. Her voice wasn’t condescending. It was calm, not cocky. Not pitying. Just honest.

You didn’t lower the stick, but you didn’t raise it higher either.

“Jackson, you said? This is Wyoming?” you asked hesitantly.

“Yes, we are a few miles north of here. It’s walled off, and there’s warm food. Beds. Whatever you need,” Ellie explained.

You were still wary, regardless of the other half of you screaming to go with her. It was a Hail Mary. A saving grace that you could get rest and food. However, who she is and what the rest of Jackson could be like remains unknown.

“I’ve been on my own for a while. Not big on trusting people,” you muttered.

“I get that,” she said softly. “I’m not going to bother you. But if you are hungry, you can join us.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Us?”

“Me and my patrol partner. Her name’s Dina. I told her to stay back.”

You narrowed your eyes, though it was more for show than to intimidate.

“What’s the catch?”

“None. You don’t owe us anything; we want to help.”

A dry, humorless laugh fell from your mouth. “That’s not how it works. Everyone wants something in exchange for help.”

“I used to think like that, too,” she whispered. “But I’m being honest. You don’t have to ride back with us or walk next to us, you can walk near us if it’ll make you feel better.”

You didn’t answer. You let the space and silence settle between you again, weighing your options. It’s either risk it and continue on your own, or head back with Ellie and Dina. And if she hasn’t figured it out yet, Ellie will find out you are blind. And that could pose more troubles than it’s worth.

“No strings attached?” you asked again

“No strings,” Ellie responded.

You held your gaze directly at her, a skill you learned not to let anyone know that you couldn’t see.

“Fine,” you said, gathering your pack off the forest floor. You could hear footsteps turn away. Not to run, but allowing you to follow. A pit of fear settles in your stomach at the thought of having to trust anyone again, but you had no choice. You needed supplies.

The sole thought of getting shelter, away from the infected and others who would try to hurt you, was the only reason you were going.

And for right now, that would be enough.

Ellie’s eyes were on you as you walked down the main street of Jackson, almost studying you. She’s been quiet since you passed through the gates. Not silent in a suspicious way, just thoughtful. Like she was holding a question but hadn’t found an intelligent way to ask. The stick you were still using tapped lightly against the ground with each step. You kept it low, less obvious. Not broadcasting what it was for, but you didn’t hide it either. If Ellie thought it was for balance or the only option you had as a weapon, that was fine. You let her assume.

You could hear kids laughing nearby. Horse hooves pounding against the ground. Hammers clinking against metal. The town was full of life, and people were happy. It was noise, not chaos, a hum of something, something living. An experience you hadn’t heard in so long.

She was still there beside you, silent. Steady. Ellie hadn’t really spoken a word since you two met. There was a moment, quick but real, where you turned your foot a bit too much and stumbled. The ground shifted beneath you, and before you could correct yourself, there she was. Her hands caught you, quick and precise. They were soft and warm. Her touch was different. And even though you just met, her hands on you were the first ones that didn’t feel wrong.

It didn’t feel invasive or hesitant—no awkward fumbling.

“Sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to grab you like that. You okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

You adjusted your grip on the stick again, letting the moment pass. There was more quiet between you. Not uncomfortable, but heavy with thoughts neither of you spoke out loud.

Then she asked, soft and careful. “You uh…been to a place like this before?”

You kept your face towards hers. Or at least you hoped you did.

“Not like this,” you said. “Usually, they don’t let in people like me.”

“People like you?”

You didn’t answer her right away. Let her wonder. And she didn’t push. But the silence between you had changed. More heavier. Another thirty paces before she tried again, making sure she was more careful and thoughtful this time.

“Do you always hold a stick like that?

Now that made you pause. Not because it offended you, but because it was the first time someone had really noticed you in a long time. Really seen you.

You gave a quiet shrug. “It works.”

“Is it…is it for finding your steps?” she asked.

No sarcasm. No pity. Just a unique sense of curiosity. You stopped. So did she. The sounds of the town moving on around you were still playing in the background. Although you couldn’t see her, she was still there. Her presence was undeniable; you couldn’t help but try to look in the direction she was in.

“It is. Not saying it can’t be difficult at times, but I’ve learned to deal.”

She didn’t gasp. She didn’t give any false “oh god, I didn’t know.” Ellie’s breathing steadied, taking in the realization of what she suspected.

“Okay,” she said, before turning and waiting for you to follow the sound of her footsteps. Eventually, you placed a hand on her arm, and she took it, helping you down the street towards whatever else is waiting for you.

Some time had passed, and now it was New Year's Eve. You had settled into a place of your own, and of course, Ellie helped you learn your way around. It wasn’t because she thought you were incapable, but almost like she couldn’t stand you being alone. You brushed away the warmth that spread every time she was near—or ignored how her voice sounded when she was whispering to you at the cafeteria when you wanted to know what was going on around you. It didn’t mean anything that she always showed up every day, at the same time, waiting to take you to the greenhouse. After you had met Joel, Tommy, and Maria, you told them how you wanted to contribute in whatever way you could. You casually mentioned your love of plants, although you hadn’t tended to any in a while, considering that outside Jackson’s walls, you didn’t have time to garden.

But now tonight, the snow was falling, creating a scenic backdrop to the festivities. There were a few people outside, mainly children being chased by their parents or teenagers gossiping together in a group. You were inside, sitting down at the table with Maria and Joel beside you. They kept you company while everyone else danced to the band playing. Ellie was off to the side, speaking to Jesse, when she saw you sitting there swaying in your seat to the music. The unmistakable sound of her footsteps approached you.

“You gonna sit here all night with these ancient beings or do you want to dance?” she remarked.

Joel, sitting beside you, scoots his chair back a bit. “I’m not ancient,” he grumbled.

“Yeah says the man who can’t go a minute without complaining about his knee pain.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but you could sense there was a smile in his words.

Ellie’s gaze turned back to you. “Let’s dance.”

You blinked, taken aback by her question. Dancing was something you didn’t know how to do. No one bothered to teach you.

“Dance? Oh, I don’t know. I’m not sure how—”

“I got you,” she cut in, her hand reached out, grabbing yours and pulling you to your feet. “I won’t let you fall.”

Her hands caress yours as you let her pull you to the dance floor, and a slow song begins to play. The softness of her skin beckons you to follow her as you ignore the anxiety building in your chest. Your palms were sweaty, and your chest rose up and down in a pace that hurt. Ellie leads you to the center.

“Just follow my lead and I’ll make sure you are ok,” she murmured.

You nodded, unable to speak, as she stepped closer, her chest touching yours.

“I’m gonna put my right hand here..”

You feel it land on your waist, her fingers gripping slightly.

“And my left hand will go here..”

She grabs your right hand, enveloping it in her left. Ellie begins to guide you through the steps as the music makes your bodies sway.

“Step to the left..”

You stepped, your foot brushing hers, your breath catching slightly.

“Good,” she murmured, her lips close to your ear now. “Now to the right...”

You moved again, stiff and uncertain, then softening with each step she led. Ellie was warm. Steady. She kept her hand on your waist, not moving lower, not pulling you closer than you allowed. But she was there, her chest brushing against yours.

The music was filling the space between you. Something old, romantic, and smooth that made the world feel slow. Softer. You breathed her in. The faint scent of cedar and something sweet…like soil clinging to her clothes from patrol earlier that day.

“Still with me?” she asked softly.

You nodded, your voice lost somewhere in a daze.

Ellie shifted, her cheek pressed against yours as she leaned in.

“You’re doing perfect.”

You let out a shaky laugh. “That’s generous.”

“I don’t lie about important things,” Ellie whispered.

She guided you through another step, her thumb stroking slowly across your knuckles. You could feel her skin shake against your own. And you couldn’t help but do the same.

“You’re trembling,” she whispered.

“I’m not used to this,” you admitted, voice tight.

She took a break, this time slower. More careful.

“I know,” she said. “That’s why I’m not letting you go.”

You tilted your head slightly, following instinct rather than reason. “Ellie…”

She stopped moving. So did you. The music still floating around you. Her thumb swept along your jaw, your eyes closed, as she leaned in, savoring the feeling.

“Can I?” she asked.

You nodded yes, and her lips met yours, tentative at first, searching.

Then you kissed her back.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was definitely real. Full of every unspoken thing that has been building over the last few months since she first saw you that day in the woods.

When she pulled away, Ellie looked at you, and you felt her smile again.

“Want to keep dancing?”

You nodded. “Only if it’s with you.”

[aitheria]

Gin x Reader (Sfw!)

SMUT-FEST 2025 PROMPT: TELL IT YOUR WAY. Recreate and rewrite your favourite Bleach moment in your own words!

Summary: Gin had told Rangiku sorry, but what did the eyes of a secret lover see?

(CH.178, Bleach)

Tags: Canon-verse, angst, established relationship, breakup, anger, jealousy, one minor mention of blood

Word Count: 700

"Goodbye Rangiku, I'm sorry"

His words echoed in your ears, a steady beat in your temple as you clenched your fist. Your throat felt dry as your eyes burned with the memories of a moment not for you. The feeling of despair felt acidic as it settled in your stomach. You had played along, a look of shock and feigned distraught on your face as you stood along with everyone else. You watched him go; knew he'd go. Dammit, you helped him go. Assisted your Captain in leaving the Soul Society, knowing he'd never hold your hand and drag you along with him to who-knows-where. You were the secret lover in every dark corner, every time he curled a forefinger for you to follow. You were the silent arms that held him as he crawled into your bed for passionate refuge.

You didn't cry in that moment as you watched. You didn't shake with rage or pull out your own zanpakuto. How could you? How could you raise a fist or sword against the man you so desperately loved?

The man who never loved you.

He had admitted he was cruel, a snake who swallowed things he liked whole. You laughed it off, kissing his cheek, saying how much you adored cold-blooded things. In truth, it ate at you. Every day, you wondered if he would come around if he could come around. If you had his physical affections, how could you not obtain a piece of his heart as well? It became your life’s mission to be his shield from reality, your own delusions muddled somewhere between the layers of his lies and silent mission. His being consumed you. His affection was venomous. It warped you into a hollowed husk of who you once were, sweet and slow it sunk into your soul. He wrapped around you like a constrictor till you could no longer say anything besides, I love you.

"I love you. I love you. I love you, Gin."

Yet he could not swallow his pride for a moment and apologize to you as well? He had rubbed bony fingers over your knuckles whispering in your ears all the mundane jobs that would now be yours. A selfish role forced on you to clear him of guilt. Make sure Izuru doesn’t falter on his duties, make sure the persimmon trees continue to bear fruit and make sure Rangiku doesn’t cry or drink too much. You punched the bed, gritting your teeth in jealousy, your heart sank-

Rangiku Rangiku Rangiku.

You could not compare yourself to her. She was a golden sun, the light of his life. But you happily accepted being his penumbra, you balanced so well between the light and dark. How many times had he come to you- bags under his eyes, a frown and shaky breath speaking in riddles of things you did not understand. You offered solace and solutions, never asking for his conclusions. You offered your time, your intelligence and of course your body. How you’d fall into his lap, a smile on your lips, that characteristic grin on his. Moans like hymns from your mouth minutes later as he sunk his fangs into your sensitive skin.

You bit your lip, wrapping your arms around yourself, sinking into the despair. Without him what was there? He had been a part of your life for decades, your first and last love. Your nails dug crescents and blood welted on your flesh as you clawed at your arms. If only you could remove any presence of him, there was no antidote for his venom. No cure for your broken heart. You heard how his voice softened with longing and regret as she held a sword to his throat, watched his body deflate in subjugation. He didn't even look at you as he ascended, those sly eyes stuck on her.

Always her.

He left you nothing to remember him by except his scent in your sheets, crumpled and worn. The tears formed then, catching in the corner of your lips. The salty taste did nothing to quell your jaded heart. You hated him, you loved him and most of all you missed him.

Alone you would wallow in his absence.

[phdpegger]

classmates keep asking me what i'm gonna do w the classmate that was racist to my face ... idk man if she talks to me and stops telling ppl that i'm "known to cut people off" we'll figure it out 💀 genuinely i have not blocked this girl on anything and she literally. has my address. has my phone number. i have her contact still saved on my phone bc we are working together. all i did was unfollow her and remove her acc from my instagram which i barely use anyway and i unfriended her on bereal ??? which apparently is the equivalent to me not wanting to talk at all. idk man when someone calls you a racist to ur face i dont think they're the one who wants to initiate a conversation

[schmweed]

[bonestrouslingbones]

here i always thought i was unlike papyrus in my general demeanor but now i'm learning i just needed 30mg of adderall