#he wears a hoodie. he is healing.

[sindevilslit]

my favorite ow pair big pant and big jakt

[botsusann]

The day I stop constantly redesigning my silly post-Sburb Davesprite design Is the day I die.

I like to imagine as he got older he came more to terms with his existence, He might still have his occasional moments of self loathing at times, especially when hes alone. and his Identity issues are still kinda there..

but, he's definitely gotten a lot better over the years.. He's making progress. And that's what counts.

[oofthwoods]

STEPS TO YOU! ── ˙ ̟ lando norris !!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 :: lando norris hates the idea of soulmates. for him, it's hard to see everyone in his life with a matching tattoo, or a timer, or the inability to see colors, while he has to be content with the fact that he may never find his perfect match. that is, until he starts to see mysterious footprints around the paddock, hinting at a path he never expected.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: this is my confession that my favorite soulmate!aus are the ones where they don't think they have one. the sadness of thinking you are not destined for a great love only to find out that there's someone out there for you??? mwah chefs kiss

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :: to be added.

LANDO NORRIS WAS A ROMANTIC AT HEART.

He had a secret love for romantic comedies. Watching couples overcome comical obstacles before finding their happy ending always brought a smile to his face. Though he would never admit it, he found joy in the cliched plots and endearing moments portrayed on screen.

The Brit also enjoyed weddings. Family, friends, or mere acquaintances— it didn't matter. To him, the ceremony was a tangible display of true love that existed beyond the silver screen and scripted Hollywood romances.

Despite everything, Lando knew that he would never experience anything like it. Everyone around him seemed to have a sure sign that they were meant for great love: Carlos with his past life visions shared with his beloved, George with his key pendant symbolizing his destiny, and even Oscar, who occasionally vanished, leaving a girl in his place. But not Lando. No visions, no tattoos, no words etched on his arm foretelling what his soulmate would say upon their first encounter. He felt like an outsider in a world where everyone seemed to have found their perfect match, while he knew he would be alone forever.

As Lando's realization sunk in, it was an emotional rollercoaster. He wasn't just a late bloomer; he wasn't meant to blossom at all. In his childhood innocence, he embraced his supposed independence and declared that girls were gross and he could live without someone by his side forever. But as adolescence took over, he found himself increasingly on the sidelines, watching as close friends shared stories of connection and love, filling him with a painful mix of envy and despair.

Every tale of someone else's romance felt like a dagger to the heart, a wound that refused to heal. Lando couldn't help but wonder what he had done to deserve this solitary fate in a world where everyone else seemed to find their soulmates.

Occasionally, he gazed up at the dark expanse above, yearning for solutions. Had the universe overlooked him or was love just not in his destiny? Some claimed that soulmates were like atoms connected since before the Big Bang, their bond enduring despite eons passing. But what did this mean for Lando? Was he destined for a solitary life even before the cosmos took shape?

As an adult, Lando struggled to convince himself that he had come to terms with his fate. He told himself over and over again that finding true love was possible without a soulmate being involved. It didn't have to be some cosmic arrangement. Yet, deep down, even as he tried to comfort himself with this reasoning, he couldn't shake the desire for something more. He yearned to be uniquely crafted for someone, to be cherished wholeheartedly despite his imperfections and weaknesses.

Lando shook his head, pulling himself out of his thoughts and back into the present moment. The unforgiving Melbourne sun beat down on him, its golden rays spreading across the circuit. Heat radiated all around him, almost suffocating in its intensity. He cursed his decision to wear an orange hoodie that morning as a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. Walking from the entrance to his garage, he couldn't escape the discomfort caused by the heat. The thick fabric clung to his skin, trapping him in its grasp as the temperature continued to rise.

Beside him, Oscar emanated an infectious energy. The pilot was fully immersed in the atmosphere of his home country's race, evident through his beaming smile. Despite the hustle and bustle around them, they maintained a calm demeanor, as if they were in a world of their own, oblivious to the cameras of the photographers trying to capture every moment.

Lando observed Oscar's anxious glances, as if he was searching for a particular person.

Deciding to break the silence, Lando asked, "Has your family arrived?"

Oscar's mind seemed elsewhere as he replied, "Oh, yeah. They're here. I'm just looking for someone else."

Someone else. Lando's brow furrowed as he thought about the mysterious bond between Oscar and his soulmate. Every now and then, without warning or explanation, the Australian would switch places with the girl he was connected to. Initially, Lando feared that this could happen during a race and result in a disastrous outcome. However, he soon realized that the universe was smart enough to only make these switches when both were safe.

"You met her?" Lando finally asked, curious about Oscar's soulmate. He looked at him with confusion before smiling sadly.

"Not yet, and she's not the one i'm looking or," Oscar replied, bringing a small sense of relief to Lando. He immediately felt guilty for wishing that others wouldn't find their soulmates, knowing it was selfish and petty.

Additionally, Lando could recall a peculiar incident from the previous year, when Oscar suddenly disappeared, and a girl had surprisingly turned up in the McLaren garage, clad in pajamas and exuding an unusual calmness about the situation. He remembered her as a charming and witty girl, and the thought that Oscar had someone special to share his life with brought a comforting warmth to Lando's heart, though it was tinged with a hint of jealousy.

"I have a friend coming over today," Oscar interjected, breaking through Lando's thoughts. "We went to elementary school together, but it's been a while since we've seen each other. She finished college last year, and managed to take a few days off to visit."

Lando nodded along as Oscar talked about his friend, dividing his attention between their conversation and the busy paddock. He couldn't help but notice weird stains on the ground and wished people would be more considerate of the space.

The two McLaren pilots still had a few minutes before the first meeting and the final free practice before qualifying. They decided to take refuge from the scorching sun inside their respective driver's rooms, seeking a moment of tranquility before the hustle and bustle of the track.

Lando made his way down the narrow path to the driver's room, noticing strange marks on the floor. The team garage was typically spotless, and he couldn't comprehend how it had become so messy.

"Who the hell made this mess?" Lando furrowed his brow and glanced around the room.

Oscar, perplexed, asked, "What mess?"

With a chuckle, Lando replied, "Are you blind? Look at the damn floor, it's covered in stains." He pointed to the ground with his arm.

Oscar tried to play along, forcing a laugh. "Mate, did you hit your head on the way here? The floor is spotless, as always."

Lando's eyes narrowed as he examined the stains on the ground more closely. What he imagined was dirt from a worker's shoe, appeared to not be random splatters; they seemed deliberate, almost forming a pattern. And then, in a sudden moment of clarity, Lando's heart skipped a beat as he realized the stains looked like footsteps.

"This is strange," he muttered, crouching down to get a better look.

Hearing Lando's concern, Oscar joined him and peered at the marks. "What are you thinking?"

Lando's mind was filled with various thoughts. He wondered if the intense heat was causing him to hallucinate. A thought crossed his mind that someone had wandered into the garage barefoot, possibly in search of new shoes. Everything seemed mildly possible.

Despite his efforts to suppress it, a nagging part inside him reminded him of the nights he spent wondering about potential invisible soulmate connections. He couldn't help but recall the excitement of discovering invisible threads - like leaving colorful marks upon touch or having their thoughts connect when within a certain distance, almost like telepathy. Things that wouldn't appear on his body when he turned eight, but still meant he had someone.

The 15-year-old version of himself seemed to be pounding on his chest, making him remember the thread through footsteps that he had long forgotten about, and started to question if even existed. Yet, Oscar didn't seem to notice the distinct marks on the floor and Lando couldn't possibly be hallucinating from dehydration.

Oscar placed his hand on Lando's back and felt a shiver run through his friend's body. "Lando, you're starting to worry me. Do you want to go to the medical bay?"

Lando quickly got up from the floor, shaking off Oscar's touch. "No need, Os. I'm fine." He forced a smile, but there was a lump in his throat as he tried to swallow down the fear and uncertainty. He didn't want to get his hopes up again, only to have them crushed once more.

"What do you think of the place?" Oscar's voice startles you from behind,.

A smile lights up your face as you turn around to see your friend in person for the first time in a long while. You eagerly embrace him with open arms, attempting to lift him off the ground like you used to when you were kids.

"Wow, okay, you're not as light as you used to be."

Oscar chuckles, and playfully returns the favor by lifting you up. "Nope, I'm not. Or maybe you're just not as strong anymore."

You tease, giving his shoulder a light slap. He winces and holds onto it, pretending it hurts.

"It's impressive." You answer his previous question. "So many people, so much noise, but I can see why you love it here." You take in the bustling atmosphere with a laugh.

The Aussie leans back against something and asks with a playful glint in his eye, "So, what's been going on in your world?"

You chuckle, immediately feeling at ease with him. "Just the usual post-grad life. Trying to figure it all out."

"Will you stick with auto sports?" He asks hopefully.

"I have an interview lined up to shadow a F2 journalist, so let's hope for the best." You make a gesture of crossed fingers. You thought that graduating with a degree in Journalism would give you direction in life, but almost a year later, you're still searching for your calling.

"It's already yours. I've never met anyone who could get honest answers from drivers like you do." He tried to calm you.

"I interviewed you once for a college project, Os. I don't think that counts." You chuckle.

"Come on, I was in f2 back then. That's definitely something to put on your resume."

"I'll keep that in mind." You nod.

It didn't feel like it had been so long since you two last saw each other in person.

As your gaze sweeps over the cluttered garage once more, something strange catches your eye, and you furrow your brow in confusion.

"Isn't Easter still a ways off?" Your eyes follow a trail of small, misshapen footprints leading around the room and you can't help but comment, "And whoever left those prints definitely didn't excel in their Arts & Crafts classes. They look nothing like bunny paws."

Oscar couldn't believe it. What was going on with his friends and footprints that day?

He squints and shakes his head. "I don't see anything," he says, trying to follow your gaze.

"Of course you don't. I've been telling you to get your eyes checked for years," you tease with a laugh. You walk over to him and point directly at the pawprint (that looks more like a footprint) on the ground that you can clearly see, even though it's slightly faded. Oscar looks at you with confusion.

"Are you and Lando in on this together?" He starts to suspect a prank.

"Lando? Your teammate?" You shake your head. "I've never even met him, Os." A mischievous grin spreads across your face. "But maybe I should."

Oscar's gaze shifted from the empty space in front of him. "Don't even go there, missy. Teammates are strictly off-limits."

You couldn't help but tease, "Why, does he have a soulmate?"

Oscar used to give you pitying looks whenever you mentioned not having a love thread, but it had been a while since then. He missed all of you - including your bad puns.

"I don't know. We've never discussed it," Oscar shuddered. He and Lando had grown closer over the past year, but the Brit never seemed to want to talk about that topic, so Oscar left it alone.

You continue to tease, "I still don't see why he's off-limits."

"Can you imagine how traumatizing it would be to see Lando making out with my best friend?"

"It wouldn't be any weirder than collecting bugs with my best friend and then suddenly having a random girl in front of me," your counterpart argues.

"Touché" It wouldn't be right for Oscar to dictate who you should pursue, especially since you had no control over randomly talking to his soulmate after swapping places. "It still would be fucking weird."

"You know, if two people saw those pawprints and you didn't, I think it's safe to say who's the one in the wrong here," You nudged him playfully. "Maybe you're just not looking close enough. Let me guide you."

Stepping closer to the mysterious prints, you crouched down and examined them closely. "They seem... fresh, don't they?"

Oscar joined you, squinting his eyes as he tried to make out any shape or form on the ground. "I swear, there's nothing there. Are you sure this isn't some elaborate prank?"

You shook your head, running your fingers over the indentations. "No, these are real."

Despite trying his best, Oscar couldn't make out what he was supposed to be looking at. "Alright, you got me. Congrats on your and Lando's little joke."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Your frustration grows as you wonder how he could have missed the obvious footprints right in front of him.

"He saw these so-called "footprints" too." He gestured with air quotes, convinced that his best friend and teammate were up to some strange prank together.

Before you could protest, someone called out your friend's name. "I have to go, it's my engineer," he said, getting up from the floor. He gave you a friendly smile that quickly turned into a knowing smirk. "And don't follow the footprints, Alice. They won't lead you to wonderland."

Wonderland or not, you would be stupid not to follow it.

As you follow the trail of footprints through the crowded garage, your curiosity builds with each step. You maneuver carefully around toolboxes and piles of spare parts, focusing on the prints as they lead you deeper into the maze-like space.

At last, you reach the end of the trail and come face to face with a closed door. Your heart races with excitement and anticipation as you stare at the sign above it: "Lando Norris' Driver's Room"

You furrow your brow in confusion. How could Norris' driver's room be connected to the strange footprints you've been tracking? Is this some kind of elaborate prank that Oscar roped Lando into as well?

Despite the nagging feeling that something was off, you stood your ground and refused to give into whatever it was that was trying to lure you in. You mentally prepared yourself to turn around and head back to Oscar's garage, where at least you felt familiar, and he couldn't pull pranks on you in front of his entire team.

And then, as if on cue, the door swings open, revealing Lando Norris standing on the other side. His presence fills the doorway, commanding attention with an effortless grace that leaves you breathless.

In that moment, you can't help but drink in the sight of him—the way the soft glow of the room illuminates his features, casting his angular jawline and chiseled cheekbones in sharp relief. His eyes, a mesmerizing shade of azure, hold a glint of mischief as they meet yours, and you find yourself drowning in their depths.

Lando is clad in his fireproofs, the sleek material hugging his lean frame in all the right places. His racesuit hangs by his waist, a vibrant burst of color against the backdrop of the room. There's a confidence in the way he carries himself, a hint of swagger that speaks of countless hours spent behind the wheel of a racing car.

But it's not just his physical appearance that captivates you—it's the strange electricity that seems to crackle in the air when your eyes meet.

Your heart skips a beat as you find yourself in a predicament, searching for a clever excuse. You definitely didn't want to appear as a stalker-fan who snuck in. "Um, I was just... uh..."

"Oscar?" Lando interrupts, a knowing glint in his eyes.

"Yes, Oscar!" You latch onto the name like a lifeline. "I'm a friend of his."

"He mentioned you," Lando nods, a friendly grin spreading across his face.

"Ah, so Oscar's been gossiping about me, huh?" You tease, a playful smirk curling your lips as you lock gazes with Lando. "I hope he said only nice things."

Lando chuckles softly, leaning casually against the doorframe. "Oh, absolutely. But he forgot to mention how gorgeous you are"

You feel a warm flush creeping up your cheeks at his compliment, and you playfully bat your eyelashes. "Oh, did he now? Well, I'll have to thank him for the rave reviews later."

An easy silence falls between you, charged with unspoken chemistry and the promise of potential. Lando breaks the quiet with a mischievous smirk, closing the gap between you.

"Care for a little tour while we wait for Oscar? I promise not to lead you astray... too much," he adds with a wink.

Despite the lingering adrenaline from the close call and the unexpected encounter with Lando, you find yourself nodding eagerly. Oscar had been too occupied to give you a proper tour, and you were itching to explore the place.

"Lead the way, but I'm holding you to that promise of not getting lost," you tease, motioning for him to lead. As he begins to walk, you fall into step beside him, the playful brush of your shoulders sending sparks flying.

"Do you have a habit of getting lost?" Lando asks with a playful glint in his eyes.

You laugh, shaking your head in mock dismay. "Define 'a habit'," you retort, a playful sparkle in your eyes. "When we were younger, Oscar and I used to roam around this massive mall near our homes. I lost count of how many times he had to page me over the speakers because I got sidetracked and wandered off."

"I'll have to keep a close eye on you, then," Lando quips. "Can't have Oscar's friend getting lost on my watch."

You chuckle at his teasing, reveling in the easy banter between you two. As he continues to show you around the McLaren paddock, pointing out various spots and sharing amusing anecdotes, you find yourself drawn to his effortless charm and infectious energy.

"You know, I never expected today to turn out like this," you admit, stealing a sideways glance at Lando. "But I'm glad it did. Especially if it means getting a personal tour from McLaren's charming star driver."

Lando beams at your words, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Consider yourself lucky, then. Not everyone gets the VIP treatment around here." He pauses for a moment before adding with a playful grin, "Although, I must confess, it's rather challenging to focus on giving a proper tour with you flashing that smile."

Your heart flutters at his words, but you play it cool with a playful roll of your eyes. "You need to work on your flirting skills, dude."

"But do they work?" Lando counters with a cheeky smile.

"Maybe. Keep trying, and who knows where it might lead."

"Ah, so you're admitting my charm has potential?" Lando shoots back, a playful glint in his eyes.

"I didn't say that," you reply with a smirk..

"Ouch, that hurts," Lando feigns offense, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. "Here I am, giving you the grand tour, and you won't even give me credit for my rizz."

"Okay, okay, maybe just a little credit," you concede with a laugh, nudging him lightly with your elbow. "But don't let it get to your head."

Lando grins. "Don't worry, I'll try to contain my ego."

As the tour comes to an end, you and Lando bid your goodbyes, thanking each other for the enjoyable time spent together. It's time for qualifying, and Lando is escorted towards his car by a member of his team. Just before he gets in, he looks back towards you with a faint smile. In that moment, his gaze locks with yours, and he freezes as a realization dawns upon him. The footsteps he had noticed earlier, weaving through the McLaren paddock, had a familiar pattern. They were from you.

He looks back to the path he took with you, and the marks on the floor as clear as day. They appear in front of his driver's room, in the small cafeteria where he took you to get the best coffee from the paddock (his words), and they follow you as you make your way to Oscar's side of the garage.

Lando's lips part slightly, as if he couldn't get enough air.

Before Lando could take a step towards you, his engineer's firm grip on his arm pulls him back. "Where are you going? Quali is about to start," his engineer reminds him, snapping him out of the mesmerizing realization.

Lando looks torn, torn between the exhilaration of discovering a potential connection he never noticed before and the responsibility of his racing career. He gives you one last longing look before reluctantly turning away, his mind buzzing with newfound thoughts and possibilities.

As he slides into the driver's seat and revs up the engine, he can't shake off the image of your smile, the sound of your laughter, and now, the footprints you left behind that seemed to lead straight to him. The engine roars to life, drowning out his racing thoughts as he steels himself for the high-stakes qualifying round ahead.

There were various theories floating around regarding why Lando secured the pole position. Some attributed it to an engine change, while others praised McLaren's performance on the specific circuit. But deep down, Lando knew that his main motivation was to finish everything quickly so he could talk to you.

He heard his engineer's voice in his ear through the radio, but he wasn't really paying attention. He knew he had interviews to do, photos to take, and a tire to sign, but as he stepped out of the car, his mind was consumed with thoughts of the girl he never knew existed.

After the whirlwind of interviews subsides and Lando returns to the bustling garage, his mind remains fixated on one thought: finding you. He navigates through the maze of mechanics and engineers, his determination unwavering.

Spotting Oscar amidst the commotion, Lando strides over, his expression a mix of eagerness and urgency. "Hey, Oscar," he calls out, drawing his friend's attention.

Oscar looks up from his conversation with a mechanic, a puzzled expression crossing his face at the intensity in Lando's gaze. "Hey, Lando. What's up?" he asks, curious yet cautious.

"I need to talk to your friend," Lando replies, his tone serious.

Oscar's confusion deepens, and a hint of protectiveness flickers in his eyes. "My friend? Why do you need to speak to her?" he inquires, his tone guarded.

Lando hesitates for a moment, searching for the right words. "I... I just need to ask her something," he says evasively, unwilling to divulge the true reason behind his urgency.

Oscar studies Lando intently, sensing there's more to the story than meets the eye. "Is everything okay?" he probes, his concern evident.

Lando shifts uncomfortably under Oscar's scrutiny, torn between his desire to find you and his reluctance to reveal too much. "Yeah, everything's fine," he assures, attempting to brush off Oscar's concern.

But Oscar isn't convinced, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. "Look, if you're going to involve my friend in something, I need to know what's going on," he insists firmly.

Lando sighs, realizing he can't keep dodging the question. "It's just... I met her earlier, and I... I need to talk to her," he admits, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

Oscar's expression softens as he recognizes the sincerity in Lando's words. He may be protective, but he also trusts his instincts when it comes to his friends. "Okay," he relents, nodding in understanding. "She's in my driver's room."

Before Lando can make his way there, Oscar grabs his arm, a serious expression etched on his face. "Look, I know we don't talk about this, but…" He hesitates momentarily. "I don't know if you have a soulmate, but she doesn't. And I don't want you giving her false hope, only to disappear the moment someone mentions what's on your arm, or whatever."

Lando offers a reassuring smile. "You're wrong."

"Listen, I don't care if your mark is on your arm or your ass, my point was-"

"It's not about that. It's about her not having a soulmate," Lando interjects.

Oscar's expression turns grave. "What do you mean?"

"Footsteps," Lando responds simply.

Oscar's frustration bubbles to the surface. "What's going on with both of you? First, you mention footsteps, then her." He glances at his teammate, who meets his gaze with a serene smile. In Lando's eyes, there's a glimmer of hope and relief that Oscar can't quite comprehend. Initially, he considers escorting both of his friends to the medical bay, puzzled by their strange behavior regarding footsteps that only they seem to perceive—

Footsteps that only they can see.

A sudden realization dawns upon Oscar, his eyes widening. "You two are soulmates."

"Hopefully," Lando murmurs. "I—I never thought I had one. No marks, no dreams, nothing. But this morning, I saw footsteps. And then we met, and I showed her around. We were side by side, so I didn't pay much attention. But before Qualifying, I noticed her walking toward your side of the garage, and there were footsteps leading there."

As the realization settles between them, Oscar reluctantly releases Lando's arm, allowing him to continue on his way. However, just as Lando begins to move away, Oscar calls out to him, his tone a mix of seriousness and jest.

"Lando, wait," Oscar says, his voice tinged with playful threat. "Soulmate or not, if you ever hurt my best friend, I'll make sure to crash into you in every single race."

Lando stops in his tracks, turning back to face Oscar with a wry smile. "Fair warning," he replies, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "But I can assure you, if I ever did hurt her, I'd deserve every crash."

The Brit's heart races as he stands before the door, realizing he doesn't need to ask Oscar about the girl when the footsteps guide him straight to her. He wonders if he'd ever noticed those phantom imprints before, dismissing them as mere smudges or dirt. And in a fleeting moment of clarity, he wonders if those same invisible marks had led you to his door earlier, tracing a path he hadn't noticed until now.

As Lando hesitates outside the door, uncertainty gripping his thoughts, he contemplates his next move. Should he pace back and forth until you notice the traces on the floor? Or perhaps he should boldly declare their connection as soulmates upon entering? Before he can settle on a plan, the door swings open.

"Wow!" You exclaim, your initial fright giving way to laughter. "Okay, I probably deserved that. Second time's the charm, right?"

"Uhm," Lando's throat constricts, his words stumbling over each other. In his mind, this conversation had seemed much simpler. "Look, I—I need to ask you something. Do you… have a soulmate?"

Your gaze hardens, but it's not anger that flickers in your eyes, only a hint of sorrow. "We just met today," you confess, your tone tinged with vulnerability. Lando realizes it might be an invasive question; after all, some people prefer to keep such matters private. "Is it that obvious?"

"Yes. I mean, no. I mean—" Lando fumbles, his nerves getting the best of him.

"It's alright, I understand," you say, crossing your arms with a sad smile. "You do?"

"I do," Lando confirms, gesturing subtly to the scattered footsteps that crisscross the room.

"Cool," you respond, your expression disoriented.

"No, wait, that's not what I meant." Lando's frustration mounts as he struggles to articulate his thoughts. Was this what it felt like to be stupid in love?

"It's okay, Lando, really," you reassure him gently. "I know some people like to have... fun before finding their soulmate. I won't judge you for that." Yet beneath your understanding tone, a pang of sadness lingers, the thought of forever being a mere diversion rather than a final destination.

"Listen," Lando interjects, laying his hands gently atop yours, a jolt of electricity coursing between them once more. "Earlier today, you saw those footsteps, didn't you?"

"Actually, yes," you reply, confusion clouding your features. Oscar had vehemently denied their existence, leaving you to question your own perception.

"Me too. I saw footsteps this morning. Then I noticed footsteps leading towards Oscar's garage," Lando reveals, his voice soft with emotion. He silently pleads for you not to notice the trembling in his hands. "And now, I see footsteps again. Emerging from the door and heading toward the couch. A circle of them, right in front of the television."

As Lando confides in you, his vulnerability palpable, you begin to piece it together. Your eyes widen in realization as you look around. Although you can't see the invisible footsteps he's describing, you can distinctly perceive a path, stretching from the door to where Lando stands before you.

"Every step leads me to you," he murmurs, his gaze locked on yours with unwavering intensity.

A tender smile graces your lips as you absorb Lando's words, a rush of warmth flooding your chest. "I never thought I had a soulmate," you confess softly, your voice tinged with wonder.

Lando's own smile mirrors yours, a mixture of affection and amusement dancing in his eyes. "Look at that, one thing that we already have in common," he replies, his tone gentle yet playful.

You share a moment of quiet understanding, the air thick with unspoken emotions swirling between you. It's a realization that defies logic yet feels undeniably right, as if the universe itself had conspired to bring you together. Well, it did, didn't it? Maybe you should apologize for all the times your cursed at it.

"And here we are," you say, a hint of awe coloring your words.

"Here we are," Lando echoes, his gaze never leaving yours.

A mischievous glint twinkles in your eyes as you playfully tease, "You know, when I suggested you keep trying to flirt with me, this wasn't exactly the outcome I had in mind."

Lando chuckles, his grin widening. "Well, lucky for me, there's no one I'd rather up my game with than you."

You laugh, feeling the tension ease between you as the playful banter continues. "Smooth talker," you tease, giving him a playful nudge.

"Just stating the truth," Lando replies, his tone lighthearted yet sincere. "Besides, you will have to deal with it for the rest of your life."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the playful façade giving way to a deeper connection between you. "I suppose you have a point," you concede with a smile, feeling yourself drawn even closer to him.

Lando's eyes light up with mischief as an idea sparks in his mind. "You know," he begins, a playful grin tugging at his lips, "I've spent my entire life thinking you didn't exist. I have a lot of making up to do."

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at his bold statement, but a smile tugs at the corners of your lips, intrigued by his playful demeanor. "Oh really?" you reply, a teasing glint in your eyes. "And just how do you plan on making it up to me?"

Lando's grin widens as he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Well, I was thinking we could start here. I can't really go out, but my hotel has an amazing restaraunt" he suggests, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "After that... Have you ever been to Monaco? Or Italy? Maybe after that, we could..."

You can't help but laugh at his enthusiasm, charmed by his playful spirit. "I say you're full of surprises, Lando Norris," you tease, interrupting him, a playful sparkle dancing in your eyes. "But I like the way you think."

A bashful smile graces Lando's lips as he chuckles softly. "Great," he replies, his tone now tinged with a hint of shyness. "I've got a meeting to attend, but after that, how about we meet back here?"

"You'll know exactly where to find me."

As warmth floods through Lando's heart, a tender smile graces his lips. In that fleeting moment of realization, it dawns on him—he'll never doubt your existence again. Not when there's a trail of footsteps leading him straight back to you, a path he'll eagerly follow time and time again.

Lando Norris is a romantic at heart. The universe, in all its wisdom, understood that he deserved nothing less than the greatest of loves.

fun fact i actually hate this

taglist (tell me if you want to be added or removed. crossed names means i couldn't tag you) :: @saturnssunflower @sopheeg @minkyungseokie @alexander-hamilhoe @butterfly-lover @cool-ultra-nerd @tomriddleswhorecruxes @everbizzare @chonkybonky @styl1shl1v

[astraystayyh]

The snow falls, we fall apart.

summary: when heartbreak looms on your life, and winter becomes a time you loathe, hyunjin helps you rewrite your memories with the season, and with it, everything you once believed about love.

genre: producer student!hyunjin x reader. roommates!au. friends to lovers. acute descriptions of heartbreak and general sadness. slow burn. hurt/comfort. healing and hopeless romantic hyune. very inspired by long for you so lots of pining and yearning. (wc: 13k)

warnings: mentions of alcohol. it is implied that reader was in an a very toxic relationship but no details are shared.

a.n: happy birthday to my hyunjin, my muse, my light. thank you for being so full of love that it made me love love again in return. this is i think my most personal piece, and i hope it reminds those who need it that love should be soft and kind, that it shouldn’t hurt, that it should heal not break. i love you guys and i love you my xi, writing this collab with you has been a true honor <3 also!! please listen to long for you while reading :,)

winter falls masterlist.

You’ve only ever felt utter despair twice in your life.

First, when you were seven years old, playing hide and seek with your cousins at your grandma’s house. It was a warm summer afternoon, the air sweetened by pastries you devoured hours ago. You decided to hide in a wooden cabinet up in the attic, only to end up stuck there. The walls felt like they were closing in on you, the oxygen seeping away from the cracks underneath the door, leaving you deprived of air, of life.

Second, at twelve, when you've come to discover sorrow's new facet, clad in grief's heavy cloak. Your parents adopted a hamster for your birthday, but they did not know he had a terminal disease. You were distraught, to say the least, when you awoke to its still form, death claiming a frail heart unaware of its imminent fate.

And now, third, many many moons later, you are knocking on Hyunjin’s door a few minutes after midnight. It is cold out, tears tracing rivulets on your cheeks, your fingers tinted pink from roaming outside in the harsh winds, your heart much heavier than when you were a child. More grief-stricken, at your own hands, this time.

A disheveled Hyunjin opens the door, his blonde ash hair tousled and sticking upwards, a clear indication of the many times he had run his hands through it in fits of frustration. His gray hoodie zipped up hastily, revealing the silver cross necklace he was wearing, nestling perfectly against his honeyed skin.

You've always had an aversion to seeking comfort, saw it as revealing your deepest vulnerabilities to a world that isn't always kind. It was easier, much simpler to do so when you were a clueless child— when you sank in your cousin Lia's hold as she attempted to steady your breathing, when your mother cradled you in her lap after Pinky died.

It is much harder now, much more embarrassing because Hyunjin has never seen you this sad, never glimpsed your shadows that now swarm his doorstep, unannounced.

“What's wrong?” he quickly asks, eyes darting over your figure in a rapid search for visible wounds. He wouldn’t find any. All your injuries stem from within— blood doesn’t have to be spilled for your heart to weep.

You had rehearsed a lie as you walked up to his doorstep. You would say that your car broke down near his place and ask if you could stay over for the night. He would insist he could drive you to your place and you’d refuse, saying that it was too late and you did not wish to bother him. You’d sleep on the couch and slip away in the early hours of the morning.

Yet, it is the genuine worry etched in his eyes that dismantles the fortress you've hidden in, melts the lie in your throat, morphing it into a steel lump coiling in your throat. He looks concerned when all you’ve had directed towards you recently was anger. And you missed someone looking at you in care, not reproach.

“I didn’t know where else to go.” You admit, your voice shattered, fragments of your vocal cords scattered out in the wind like a broken mosaic, the sound of it scraping against your ears.

Blow one hurt. It felt like your body turned against you as it deprived you of oxygen. The sobs that escaped you once you perceived the light pained you, perhaps more than being confined in the darkness.

Blow two was even worse, it was your first time experiencing grief. It was too hard of a concept for your innocent heart to grasp, too complicated for you to find solace in anything as adults do.

You promised yourself that you’d reserve blow three for monumental agonies— big pains and big sorrows only. That’s how you managed to keep all your tears at bay for most of your life. Would they be worth losing your third sob for? No, you've always found the answer to be.

And in all the twisted scenarios you’ve conjured up in your mind, deaths and illnesses and the haunting tale of failure, you did not imagine that it would happen on Hwang Hyunjin’s doorstep. That you’d burst into sobs at the compassionate look in his gaze, and the sad smile he sent your way. As if he knew, as everyone did around you. That you had handed a knife to a serial killer and it was only a matter of time before he stabbed you in the heart.

Two weeks ago.

“I’m trying to understand you but you aren’t helping me,” Seungmin is frustrated as he paces relentlessly before you from left to right like a swinging pendulum. You sit on the couch, beholding only his shoes, avoiding his gaze that would reflect the truth you dare not confront.

“He’s sucking the life out of you, can’t you see that?”

You can, out of everyone that surrounds you, you can see it the most. You feel as if you are carrying a skin that isn’t your own, weighed down by a relationship that has taken everything from you. But admitting it is admitting that you were wrong, in trusting him, in loving him. You couldn’t bear it.

“We are fine!” you shout back, the defiance in your voice surprises even you. This is a familiar script with Seungmin, a recurring conversation spurred by your puffy eyes and diminishing appetite. He tells you, begs you to leave, but where could you go? How could you leave a home where you've shed all your treasured belongings at the door— your skin, your bones, your very self.

What place would welcome you now that you're stripped bare of your soul?

“When was the last time he made you smile, huh? All he does is hurt you, and you...” he chuckles incredulously, running his hand through his hair. “You are letting him.”

Deny, deny, deny.

“This isn’t true. He loves me,” the words taste foreign in your mouth like rusty metal dragging across your lips. A small voice whispers that love shouldn't feel like this, but you quiet it down.

“Are you hearing yourself? Yn, I…” he kneels before you, his hands resting comfortingly on your knees. This is Seungmin, your best friend of five years. You know he has your best interests at heart, you are even more sure of it when his voice softens, shakes slightly when he utters your name. “Yn, please. I’m trying to help you. Please.”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” you push away his hands, standing up. “I don’t want your help, and I don’t need it.”

You quickly leave Seungmin’s dorm, your heart heavier than when you entered it, foolishly hoping that he'd ignore your distressed state after yet another fight with your boyfriend. But Seungmin doesn't understand, no one around you does— you’ve gambled your heart, and you cannot stop drawing the cards, even in the face of losing strikes.

❁ ❁ ❁

Hyunjin offers you a cup of tea with a gentle smile and you grab the steaming drink from his hands. The smell of chamomile wraps around your senses, and your brain fizzles out for a second before the soothing aroma. But it is a fleeting respite, the tempest of your thoughts crashes back onto you with an unsettling force, causing you to almost drop the drink as your hands shake. You place it down the table without taking a sip.

“I’m sorry for coming unannounced,” you apologize, wincing at the intrusion, “I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“I always sleep late. Don’t worry about it,” he smiles, but you know it isn’t a genuine grin, because his eyes betray an unsubdued concern, refusing to morph into their usual moon crescents.

You’ve always thought that Hyunjin wears his emotions openly— when he laughed, he did so loudly, his boisterous giggles traveling around Seungmin’s dorm. When he hurt himself, everyone in the vicinity would know so from his loud yelps. And when something worried him, he would bite his lip, toying with the plush flesh to ease his nerves.

As he is doing now. Looking at you.

“We broke up,” you quickly say, and your words hang over you like a gloomy cloud. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Do you want me to fight him? I’ll bring changbin too,” he suggests a serious tone underlying his playful offer, and it manages to tear a reluctant giggle out of you.

“Changbin doesn’t know me well enough to fight for me,” you counteract and he shakes his head. “He’ll fight for me, I'm his princess.”

“Are you now?” The giggle escapes your mouth less forcefully, and the smile that graces Hyunjin’s face is a genuine one.

“I am. My proposal stands,” he extends his hand and you wrap your fingers around his palm. “Thank you, I’ll keep it in mind,” you smile but he frowns, flipping your hand around in his hold.

“You are freezing,” he whispers, using his other palm to rub warmth into yours.

“It’s fine,” you lie, slipping your hand out of his grasp, not feeling deserving of his kindness.

Wordlessly, Hyunjin stands, walking into what you assume is his bedroom. You only know of his place because you dropped off Seungmin here some time ago. You are too exhausted to even drink in the interior.

“Here,” he returns, handing you a navy hoodie of his and black joggers. “This will keep you warm at night.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, hesitating for a few seconds before speaking again. “Can you please not tell Seungmin, I... I can't face him right now.”

“Of course. I’ll be awake still if you do need something.”

Hyunjin’s clothing is warm, although peeling away your own garments felt like shedding layers of your skin, as if the fabric melted into your very flesh, just like memories from the day did. You have never felt this worthless before, discarded like a forgotten leaf on the roadside, one he stepped on for his own enjoyment, leaving you crushed in his wake, unable to fly away again.

Hyunjin’s rose perfume wraps around you, and you find relief in sleeping somewhere where your, his, scent was no longer around. You foolishly hope that if you close your eyes hard enough, you’ll manage to convince yourself that you’re someone else, tonight. Someone who isn’t tethered to the heartache, someone who can slip away from the clutches of a love that hurts more than hate could ever manage to do.

❁ ❁ ❁

Heartbreak isn’t beautiful, no matter how eloquently you try to dress it in the syllables of poetry, no words can soften the burn in your lungs, the searing ache that courses through your very core, reminding you that deep within, down to the fundamentals of your being and the most basic alchemy that ties your atoms together— you are unlovable. Whether you cut your hair or allow it to grow, change your heart, or leave it as it has always been, you will remain so.

You don’t remember much of the past week, blurry fragments here and there that float in your mind like a distorted water reflection. There is little room for memories when you are busy trying to remember how to breathe— one inhale in, one exhale out. The simple concept seems harder when there are unkind hands permanently lodged into your heart, squeezing it tight.

What you do remember is telling Seungmin through text the next day, because you couldn’t bear the way his eyes would soften if you spoke to him in person. No signs of surprise cast on his figure, because he knew that it was long coming, a train with one final inevitable destination— you in shambles, him okay.

You remember Seungmin cradling you in his arms when he came to see you, and you trying desperately to keep the tears at bay— too focused on pinching your arm to let Seungmin’s warmth radiate through your being, Hyunjin lingering uncomfortably by the entrance of his living room.

You remember begging Seungmin to grab your belongings from the apartment you shared with your ex because you were unable to face him, him, and everything that your old place spelled out for you. Stand in the ruins of what you once thought would be your permanent home.

And now, you watch as Seungmin and Hyunjin bring suitcases full of your stuff into the latter’s place. And you feel like an outsider in your own body, standing at the corner of the room gazing at utter destruction, unable to stop it, unable to mend it. Seungmin quickly reassures you that you could crash in his and Minho’s place until you find a new one to live in, already taking out his laptop to search for new apartments for you.

But you did not care for it, your eyes zeroed in on the satin shirt peeking out of your suitcase. The one he bought you on your first month anniversary. Back when love felt like a gentle feather running down your spine, and not a dull knife slicing away at your skin.

“This place's expensive too,” Seungmin sighs, rubbing his temple warily. Your logical best friend could not fix your heartbreak but he took it to heart to alleviate your other troubles. You would thank him for it, later, when your tongue finds enough will to move.

“What if you move in with me?” Hyunjin suddenly says and his words filtrate through the fog in your mind easily, as if he rehearsed them enough times so they’d roll out smoothly out of his mouth. “I mean, Felix is away for the next year since he went back to Australia. And I was looking for a new roommate anyway.” He shrugs and Seungmin turns to look at you, his eyes convey the question his mouth doesn’t articulate— is it okay with you?

“I don’t…” your voice is croaked, so you clear your throat. “I don’t want you to do things out of pity.”

“I’m not. If I was, I would've told you to move in with me for free. I still need you to pay rent,” he raises his eyebrows, a playful tease and you smile in relief, nodding, “Okay, I will. thank you.”

Heartbreak is ugly and all-encompassing, weaving through the roots of your heart and infecting each organ with its insidious touch. It renders you immobile, incapable of performing the simplest tasks, burdened by a weight unseen by the world. But you try your best, your very best to contain it.

You smile at the cashier as she hands back your money only to wonder if her soft, well-manicured hands would too crush a soul without remorse. You go to all your classes without fail but your mind is elsewhere, contemplating why the sun filtering through the windows no longer warms your skin. Can nerve endings perish when subjected to too much pain? What's left of life when you can no longer feel the caress of the sun?

You watch a movie at Seungmin's dorm but your mind is elsewhere, fleeting to this morning and how you refused to stay in the shower for more than three minutes because your thoughts might become haunting ghosts tempting you to follow them. You brush your hair and spray your perfume, only because you have to, because you live with Hyunjin and you wouldn’t want your sadness to taint him too. You wonder how long you’ll have to bear it. You wonder if it’ll ever leave you or if the veins in your heart have molded themselves after the pain and they wouldn’t know how to accept happiness anymore.

You greet Hyunjin as he walks past you, shaking your head when he asks you if you want to eat dinner with him, quickly retracting back into your room. You have ten unread messages and a pile of growing laundry you need to do, but all you can muster is to gaze at the empty walls, mirroring the void within you. Your mom told you to call her again and you don’t know how you’ll speak to her without bursting into a sob, how you’ll tell her that all it took was one person to break you. Or maybe it was two people, your hands and his tearing apart your flesh and bones. Maybe that’s the worst part about it. So you don’t call her.

And you only ever emerge from your room when you need to, just like now because your water bottle is finished and you need to refill it. You go to open the kitchen door when you hear Hyunjin’s muted shatter, Felix’s distinctive deep voice coming out of the phone speaker.

“Next you add the melted butter and stir it,” Felix instructs, the sounds of pots and utensils clinking in the background. You fidget slightly, mustering the strength to paint a fake smile on your lips.

“What next?”

“Sift the dry ingredients then add them to your wet mixture,” Felix explains, met with a few seconds of silence. You can almost visualize Hyunjin's perplexed expression, blinking rapidly in confusion.

“Explain it to me like I’m five years old,” he requests, prompting a small smile to etch itself onto your face.

“How are you surviving without me?”

“I’m not please come home,” Hyunjin sounds horrified as Felix’s rich chuckles fill the air. “Why do you suddenly want to make brownies anyway?” he then asks.

You go to open the door when Hyunjin’s response catches you off guard.

“They’re for Yn.”

Hyunjin's words resonate in the air, causing a hitch in your throat and Felix’s teasing whistles simultaneously, but Hyunjin is quick to stop him. “No, no, no, it’s not like that. They’re just a bit down and I remember them loving your brownies. So…”

It takes you a fleeting moment to dig the memory out of your mind, a year ago, right before your ex came to pick you up from Seungmin’s dorm. You had a bite of Felix’s brownies, a surprised gasp escaping your lips at its delicious taste, back when food had taste and happiness came easily to you. It was an insignificant memory, you did not imagine Hyunjin, out of everyone, would remember it.

But he did, and he’s now pacing before your closed door, contemplating how he’ll convince you to finally eat something with him. He throws a thumbs-up in the air for no one but himself, inhaling deeply before knocking on your door.

“Hey,” he greets with a hopeful smile, his gaze meeting your tired form. He hesitates for a second, clearing his throat. “Brownies?” You remain unmoving and he falters, “Hm? Please?”

“Sure,” you nod and a wave of relief floods through Hyunjin as you step out of your room. His joy is short-lived when he takes the brownies out of the oven, only to find them thoroughly burnt.

His mouth hangs agape, and he walks back shamefully to the oven, lowering its door only to scream inside of it.

“This will be more therapeutic,” you say, pointing nonchalantly to the fridge and he agrees, opening its doors and yelling once again in the much larger space.

Your melodic laughter fills the kitchen, Hyunjin’s embarrassment is suddenly a forgotten memory.

“I’m craving kimbap. Should we get it instead?” you propose, a touch shyly and he quickly agrees, afraid you’d change your mind and walk back to your room where he can no longer ensure you are okay.

Hyunjin absentmindedly dances along to the music blasting through the convenience store when a girl sidles up to his side, a saccharine grin on her lips as she looks up at him, “hi,” she greets and his tentative smile mirrors hers. “Hey.”

“Are you single?” she asks, her gaze briefly fleeting to the window. “I think you are really cute.”

“I’m…” he glances at you but you're suddenly engrossed in the ingredients of the tuna kimbap you are holding, pretending not to listen. “I am but I’m not interested, thank you.”

“Oh, come on,” she places a hand on his arm and he physically recoils. “Give me your insta and we could talk.”

“No,” he repeats, grabbing her hand to remove it when a loud voice startles him. “Baby, what’s taking you so— What are you doing?” Hyunjin watches in horror as the girl’s eyes grow wide, before she scrambles to the man’s side, feigning fear.

“He kept hitting on me when I said I had a boyfriend, baby.”

“What?” both you and Hyunjin gasped in comical unison. He would find it amusing if not for the escalating anger radiating from the man, who looks like he spends all his days in the gym. Hyunjin suddenly regrets not working out with Changbin.

The man strides towards Hyunjin. “Do you want to die?”

“No? there’s a misunderstanding,” he replies, swiftly standing before you and shielding you with his arm. “Your… baby,” he wiggles his finger in front of the man's face, “she was the one hitting on me!”

The man scoffs loudly, his face growing redder from the anger seething in him. “So you hit on my girlfriend and then accuse her of cheating?” His fist rises threateningly, prompting Hyunjin to step back, accidentally bumping into your chest.

“Wait, wait, wait! Let’s go talk outside, man to man,” Hyunjin pauses, his voice taking on a taunting edge, “unless you're too scared?” he smirks as he feels you pull at his shirt, whispering an incredulous- “What are you doing?” He shakes his head, grabbing your hand and leading you outside, throwing a sly wink at the man behind you now.

“Are you seriously going to fight him?” you ask, your gaze shifting towards the deranged couple who are about to step out of the grocery store. “No, of course not. I'm a lover, not a fighter.”

“You said you'd fight my ex,” you point out and his eyes soften surprisingly.

“You are an exception.” He looks back at the man, who's now walking towards you both. “But anyways, do you know how to run?” he asks and you frown, “who doesn’t know how to—” you pause as realization dawns on you. “No," you whisper furiously.

“Yes.”

“No,” you shake your head, horrified and he nods, eyes apologetic.

“Yes.” His fingers entwine with yours, he squeezes your hand once before he takes off running.

“Hwang fucking Hyunjin!” you shout and he looks back at you, a mischievous smile on his face. “I’m sorry Yn my face is too pretty to be beaten up.”

“He’s following us!” you yell, looking back horrified as the, even angrier, man runs after you.

“Well, run faster!”

“I’m wearing fucking slippers!” you curse and he giggles, tipping his head back, the wind slamming into you both, his hand never letting go of your own.

“Oh my god why is he still running!” you groan and Hyunjin picks up speed, moving you even closer to his sprinting figure

“I know, is it ever that serious?” he yells above his shoulder and you dig your nails into his palm.

“Shut up, this wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t so gorgeous.”

“So, you think I’m pretty too?” Hyunjin grins proudly and an incredulous laugh escapes your lips.

“Really? Is this what you’re getting out of this situation?”

“Silver linings, Yn, silver linings,” he shouts as you round a small alley, finally stopping to catch your breath. You both fall to the ground, heavy breaths escaping your chests.

“Holy shit, I’m not athletic at all,” he heaves, his eyes meeting yours. He expects to find anger lingering in your gaze but all he can grasp is your amused smile before you collapse into a fit of laughter, clapping loudly and clutching your stomach with your hand.

“Oh my god, I’m crying,” you laugh harder, wiping away at the tears falling from your eyes. Hyunjin’s weariness disappears in the blink of an eye— he did not realize how much he missed your smile until he glimpsed it again. And it is beautiful. Happiness looks beautiful on you.

“Idiot,” you hit his shoulder playfully, and his response is delayed for a few seconds, the warmth from your smile rendering him immobile.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckles, pulling you up. “Here, I’ll carry you home,” he squats slightly before you. “How impolite of me. How dare I make your majesty run.”

You shake your head, amused, before climbing atop his back, his warm palms holding your thighs securely. “Only because the slippers hurt my feet.”

You walk in silence for a while, your arms wound up around Hyunjin’s neck, the ghost of a smile still lingering on both your faces.

“They said it will snow tomorrow,” Hyunjin speaks suddenly and you stay silent for so long he starts to wonder if you even heard him.

“Mm? That’s nice,” your tone is melancholic, and he pauses at the peculiar sadness in it— as though you were trying to act nonchalant about something that has once meant the world to you.

“Don’t you like the snow?” he asks and your hold on his neck falters.

“I loved it. Loved ice skating and building snowmen.” Your voice is light and airy, like Hyunjin’s favorite mint chocolate ice cream. “But now it reminds me of bad times, bad memories.”

“I understand.”

Hyunjin knows what it feels like to relinquish parts of yourself you never wished to part from. For someone to grab your happiest places and to cast a gloomy filter atop them. Sometimes it is the loss of a season that hurts more than the departure of a person.

And Hyunjin loves winter.

He’ll do everything so that you’ll come to love it again too.

❁ ❁ ❁

Is it a nightmare if the person in it is one you once loved, looked forward to beholding with your gaze, hoping they’d never slip out of your reach? You don’t know, but you are growing tired of having the same dreams every night. Of waking up with an exhaustion that goes beyond your restless sleep but pleads from your soul to rest after almost a year of torment.

You sigh wearily, rubbing a hand through your face before walking to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water. You find Hyunjin there, eating a cupcake while standing shirtless, scrolling through his phone. You blink at the sight.

“Hey,” you clear your throat and he startles, dropping the cupcake on the ground. He goes to pick it up only to bang his head on the table, a loud yelp escaping his lips. You barely contain your giggles as you walk to his side, rubbing your palm soothingly on his head. “I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you.”

“At least pretend you are sorry,” he mumbles, pointing to your amused smile and you chuckle, taking his hand and helping him to his feet.

“What are you doing up now?” he asks as he grabs some napkins to clean up the pink frosting smeared across the floor.

You hesitate for a few seconds before whispering, “Just nightmares. And you?” you quickly add, not keen on pushing the subject any further.

“I'm working on a song,” he explains, as his gaze lingers on your sunken eyes, weighed down by dark circles from too many sleepless nights.

“And the cupcake?”

“Some people need caffeine to function. I need flour.”

“I literally see you drink three americanos per day.”

“Okay well maybe I need both,” he admits sheepishly and you grin, drumming your fingers along the countertop.

“Can I sit with you while you work?” you ask quickly, before the words linger enough in your mouth that you no longer wish to spit them out.

The smile that Hyunjin sends you is kind, pushing the shadows of your nightmares just slightly out of reach.

“Of course, yeah you can. Don’t even need to ask.”

Hyunjin walks first into his bedroom, quickly slipping on a hoodie while you take in the interior. It is a quite simple room— a large bed with gray covers, and a desk filled with what you assume to be his producing equipment sits adjacent. But what catches your attention is the dried rose hung delicately on the wall, and the array of paintings surrounding it. You edge closer to it, drawn to the well-crafted paintings— a sun-drenched beach, a couple lost in an embrace so intimate their forms can no longer be separated, and an elderly pair riding a motorcycle, their love radiating vibrantly as if enclosed in eternal youth.

“You paint?” you ask, turning around to find Hyunjin watching you. He steps closer, enveloping you once more in the fragrance of his rose perfume.

“In my free time.”

“You are amazing, Hyunjin,” you compliment sincerely, your gaze fixed on that imagery of the old couple, one that most likely grew together. It tugs at your heartstrings, stirs a painful longing within you, a memory of a time when you too believed you’d find such boundless love.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, before brushing his fingertips gently against your forearm, for a fleeting second. “Are you okay?” he asks, a tenderness you’ve been aching for latched into his question. Your eyes refuse to peel away from the paintings and the love spilling from each paint brush stroke, a love that refuses to rest on your being as if you were harboring an armor that repels it.

“No,” you reply sincerely, turning to face him. “It’s really hard,” you say with a smile, hoping that the mechanical display of happiness would keep your tears at bay, tricking your brain into believing you're not as sad as you feel.

It fails to do so, and the tears well in your eyes like a gathering storm. Frustration twists your features as you shut your eyes, tilting your head upward in a desperate attempt to contain the flood. It pauses as Hyunjin cradles the back of your head, drawing you close to the warmth of his neck. His palm glides soothingly along your spine, before patting your back ever so gently.

Your back stiffens, hands curling into tight fists, breath catching in your throat. You've grown accustomed to pushing away comfort, putting up tall barriers to shield yourself. But tonight, Hyunjin seems to break through your defenses.

Tonight, you soften, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, head nestling deeper against his tender skin.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he whispers and another sob wracks through you, but he only holds you tighter. “It’ll get better soon.”

“I loved him,” you hiccup, your voice breaks, “a lot.”

“I know, that’s why it hurts.” His voice is gentle, and yet his hold on you feels secure as if you could stumble and fall, and he would be there to catch you

“I want it to stop hurting.”

“It will, with time.”

Your next words are tinged with a childlike vulnerability, reminiscent of blow one, then two. But you do not care for it, in that instant, you crave the reassurance, you need someone to plant a seed of hope in your soul because your hands are too frail to dig for it.

“Do you promise me?”

His response doesn’t come hastily, carelessly thrown into the air like idle chatters. He takes his time, considering it with the gravity of an oath.

“I promise you.” He finally says, each syllable infused with sincerity. A brief pause hangs in the air before he adds. “And if it doesn’t then you can hit me.”

“On your pretty face?” you ask, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

“On my pretty face,” he confirms with a chuckle.

“What an honor,” you roll your eyes playfully as you lean back and he grins, tenderly wiping away your tears with the back of his fingers.

“I can't believe it took three minutes for you to cry in my room. This isn’t good for my reputation.”

“Good thing this will never leave this bedroom, right?” you point a finger at him threateningly, and he pretends to zip his lips, tossing away the imaginary key. “You got it.”

“So what are you working on?” you ask as you settle on the edge of his bed, knees drawn up to your chest.

“It’s a pretty sad song, wanna hear?” he offers, sitting across from you on his chair.

“Yeah, I'd love to,” you smile, and Hyunjin deftly adjusts a few buttons, before his melancholic whistles weave through the air, coupled with the somber melody of a piano. Your breath catches in your throat, the music reaching into the very depths of your soul. It's as if the notes are calling out for a loved one, for a time that has long passed, for a past that will never come back no matter how much we long for it.

The instrumental continues, each piano note and each violin string echo like a bittersweet lament, springing tears to your eyes. But the melody remains beautiful, akin to the beauty always found in the sadness— in the tears that cascade down your cheeks like glistening crystals, in the tremble of your hands akin to branches swaying in the wind, in the rise and fall of your chest with each breath, mirroring the ebb and flow of the waves.

Hyunjin watches you intently as the music envelops you both, his gaze softening with each passing moment. You bring a hand to your chest, almost unconsciously, too engrossed in the melody to even blink. He feels a blush sprout on his cheeks as your teary eyes hold his with the last fading guitar strings.

“You keep on making me cry,” you whisper, your voice choked with emotion, and he grins, tilting his head shyly against his shoulder.

“You like it?” he asks, a tad eager and you nod, not bothering to wipe the lone tears that are falling down your cheeks.

“I think this is what my loneliness sounds like,” you confess softly.

“As do mine.”

A silent beat runs between you both, it isn’t uncomfortable, but safe. Because you understand him, just as he understands you.

“Sometimes I long for things that have passed," he admits, “although I know I can't get them anymore.”

“The most terrible thing you can long for is yourself.”

“Because no one’s to blame for that loss but you?” he muses and you nod, a sad smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, exactly.”

You bite your lip, casting a glance back at the paintings adorning the wall. “I don't love him anymore,” you begin quietly. “I stopped a long time ago because there was no room for love anymore to grow amid weeds and thorns.”

He remains silent, sensing that this is a weight you need to unburden yourself from.

“But in the midst of it I think I stopped loving myself too,” you whisper, a confession too terrible to be uttered out loud. “That's what I long for. The things I used to love that I'm indifferent to now.”

“Like you’re a stranger before everything once familiar to you.”

“Yeah, you express it prettily,” you remark with a small smile.

“It's my job,” he grins lightly.

“I think when your heart is pure,” he begins after a while, pausing to carefully choose the words that will soothe your burn, help sleep come more easily to you. “You give love to others more readily than you do to yourself. And it takes time, patience, to redirect that love back to your own heart once again. But it's not a mistake to love, you shouldn’t hate yourself for it. Nor should you blame your past self for loving the wrong person because they did not know what you now do.”

“Think of it as a caterpillar in their cocoon,” he continues gently, “when they finally emerge from their chrysalis, they might long for who they were, where they once were because it is the only place they've ever known. But they do not realize that they've transformed into a beautiful butterfly, that they can now fly, and witness much more than their chrysalis. So maybe, your new self will love the same things as before, or maybe you’ll find new, better things to love that you would have not known before. But in either way, your heart is beautiful. That is what matters, no?”

A small pout draws on your lips, your eyebrows scrunched as you gaze at him.

“You have a very tender soul, Hyunjin.”

Your words linger in Hyunjin's mind long after the sunrise, as you lay peacefully asleep on his bed. The melody of the instrumental he produced continues to play faintly in the background, serving as a gentle lullaby that eases you into slumber, entwined in his sheets, your arms wrapped protectively around yourself, one hand cradling your shoulders and the other resting gently on your stomach. The image sears into his eyes as he sketches the outlines of a figure holding itself absentmindedly, long into the night.

Hyunjin has had his fair share of compliments, mostly pertaining to his face, and others to his craft. but it is you who seems to have sensed that a part of his soul resided in his art, that he left pieces of his heart hidden in the notes he composes and the lyrics he writes, hoping they’ll find soft hands that will take care of them, just like your own.

Five days later.

hyunjin [11:34 p.m.]: are you home?

yn [11:34 p.m.]: yeahh, do you need anything?

hyunjin [11:35 p.m.]: come downstairs, im waiting for youu

if you say no i’ll freeze to death..

hurry i can’t feel my fingers anymore (please please) ㅠㅠㅠ

“This better be a life and death situation Hwang Hyunjin,” you say threateningly as soon as you appear before Hyunjin, causing him to straighten up from the wall he was leaning against.

“It is a very dangerous life-altering situation that requires your immediate assistance, indeed,” he responds solemnly, ushering you gently to his car and opening the door for you.

“Which is?” you ask as soon as he settles inside the car and he simply grins at you, his left dimple coming forth like the very sun on a gloomy day.

“You’ll see.”

Hyunjin’s eyes fleet to your figure every now and then, but you do not seem to notice, your gaze lost into the blurring lights ahead. He can tell you're still not entirely yourself, so he was prepared to forcibly drag you along with him. He’s almost surprised you accepted to come down so easily.

“Is that… Seungmin?” you speak suddenly, pointing to a man waving in the distance, as Hyunjin parks his car near an empty field.

“And Changbin? And Minho?” you continue, squinting your eyes, “and a bonfire?” you giggle with a hint of excitement.

“You love s’mores during the winter, right?”

Hyunjin smiles, your soul softens.

“I do,” you say quietly, “I really do.”

You quickly exit the car, running into Seungmin's arms with a grin of disbelief plastered on your face. “This is insane,” you almost shout, squeezing him tight in a hug.

“It was so hard to find the perfect middle of nowhere for this,” Minho grumbles as you move to greet him, but the warmth of his embrace assures you he's only teasing.

“Thank you,” you say with a smile as you hug Changbin, who affectionately ruffles your hair. “It was Hyunjin’s idea,” he reveals, and you glance back at Hyunjin, who stands with his hands buried deep within his sweatpants behind you. You mouth a silent “thank you” to him, but he shakes his head modestly as if it is nothing to bring happiness to a bruised heart.

The night unfolds in endless laughter, with Minho and Hyunjin taking turns roasting marshmallows over the crackling bonfire, and Seungmin serving you hot coffee to keep your hands warm. Your stomach aches from the uncontrollable fits of giggles that overtook your being as Minho recounts the time he danced so vigorously on stage for his dance club that he ripped his pants, feeling a breeze where there shouldn't be one; and Changbin tells you the story of the time his voice cracked in the middle of a rap battle, and how none of the boys stopped teasing him about it for months to come.

And as the four of them take turns making you laugh, a quiet, tender realization dawns on you—you are loved. It is something he tried to convince you was impossible, that no one around truly cared for you but him. And even then, you weren’t deserving of his love whole, only scrapes of it, as if you were a beggar tugging at the outskirts of his heart.

But Hyunjin reminded you otherwise. And if your friends found something worthy of love within you then perhaps so will you again, one day.

“Did you have fun?” Hyunjin asks as he opens the door to his, your, apartment hours later. What he doesn't expect is for you to respond by wrapping your arms around his slender torso, squeezing tight in gratitude.

“Thank you,” you whisper and he nods, though you cannot see him, returning the embrace by wrapping his arms around your shoulder blades.

Hyunjin doesn't let go first, sensing that perhaps you need this hug more than he does. He smiles as your eyes meet his again, but his grin falters when he notices your gaze flickering towards your bedroom, a hint of unease clouding your expression. It's as if behind that door lie monsters only you can grasp, wearing the faces of people you once knew, once loved.

“Wanna stay with me while I work on the song?”

“Last time I ended up sleeping on your bed,” you say a bit shamefully, recalling the morning you woke up to find yourself covered with a thick blanket that wasn’t there before, alone in Hyunjin's room.

“It's okay,” he shrugs, “I missed sleeping on the couch.”

You stare pointedly at him and he chuckles, “Fine, I did not miss it. But you needed the sleep, so it’s okay with me.”

“Fine,” you concede, though you did not need much convincing for it. “But only if you promise you’ll wake me up if I end up falling asleep again.”

Hyunjin tilts his head, thinking to himself for a few seconds before shaking his head stubbornly, a small pout drawn on his face, his eyes semi-closed. “No.”

“Hyunjin!”

“Nu-uh,” he insists, shaking his head once more as he walks back towards his room. “I'm waiting for you!”

“I'm not coming!”

But you do eventually join him, after changing your clothes and washing your face. You find Hyunjin clad in beige and white checkered pajamas, his glasses pushing back his silky hair as he hunches over his journal, scribbling away before erasing what he wrote.

“Struggling with lyrics?” you ask, leaning against the wall and he startles. “Do you float on the ground? Why can I never hear you come in?”

“Or maybe you just love being dramatic,” you sing-song, laying atop his bed, much more at ease than the previous night.

Hyunjin sticks his tongue out childishly in response, and you playfully mimic the gesture before both of you dissolve into happy giggles.

“Kind of,” he explains once you both settle down, “I have this specific feeling in mind that I need to convey.”

“You'll do well,” you reassure softly, “your lyrics are always so beautiful. Remember Cover me?” you smile and he scratches the back of his ear, a shy grin spreading across his face.

“You still listen to it?” he asks and you nod eagerly, attempting to belt into Seungmin’s ending high note. You fail horribly and Hyunjin throws a crumpled piece of paper on your face to get you to stop singing.

“My poor ears,” he laughs loudly, and you retaliate by throwing back a pillow on his head.

“You just don’t get my artistic abilities.”

“I’d get them more if you stayed silent.”

You gasp, faking offense as you stand up to tickle Hyunjin on his chair, he starts squirming immediately, his loud giggles spilling all over the room, coating it in vibrant hues of happiness, and you’re suddenly captivated by the sight of him— his head thrown back, a golden lock framing his laughter-filled eyes, his top lowering slightly to reveal glimpses of his collarbones and the delicate veins that trace enticing paths on his neck.

You pause, your hand hovering over the side of his stomach, as a long-forgotten warmth spreads through your heart, like the first rays of dawn greeting the earth after a long winter night. It doesn’t diffuse quickly through your being, but rather drapes like sticky honey on your veins, making you well aware of your growing blush, of how beautiful Hyunjin is in his joy.

“Never singing to you again,” you clear your throat, laying atop his bed once again, and quickly reaching for your phone, anything to avoid his eyes which rival the crescent moon outside his window.

Hours pass before a warm hand gently settles on your shoulder, rousing you from your slumber. Blinking away the fog of sleep, you find Hyunjin leaning over you, his grin wide and infectious. “Wake up,” he whispers, but you only groan, burying your face deeper into his pillow.

He doesn’t yield, taking hold of your wrist and guiding your drowsy figure upright, before wrapping the blanket snugly around your shoulders. Without a word, he leads you out onto his balcony, carefully putting his neon green beanie on your head to shield you from the cold.

“It’s snowing!” he smiles, and his excited tone manages to dissipate the fog in your mind. You blink repeatedly and soon enough, you too behold the fallen snowflakes, each one resembling a tiny speck of light bidding farewell to the sky to greet the earth.

“You missed the first snow so I didn’t want you to miss this one too,” he explains, and his thoughtfulness blankets you with a warmth that seeps into every crevice in your body, drips down your fingertips and makes the cold of 4 a.m. seem less harsh, less biting to the touch.

You don’t know how to say thank you, because those two words don’t encapsulate the depths of gratitude that you feel for Hyunjin. Because he is speaking to the person within you who still loves snow, the part buried underneath layers of dust from a ground heartbreak. But you still manage to hear him, and you squeeze his hand tightly, and he doesn’t let go until you finally do.

❁ ❁ ❁

Remembering has become easier for you these past two months— both the good and the bad. And each day, the scale tips towards one side or the other. Sometimes you recall the suffocation you felt with him, the feeling that no matter what you did you could never please him, that your hands were crafted to break rather than mend. And on those days your wound grows, it throbs and bleeds different emotions.

Sometimes it's anger— at him for treating your heart so carelessly as if you were a being devoid of feeling. And then at you— for staying, for giving him excuses and desperately searching for goodness within him, for the one redeeming quality that would convince you he was worth the pain.

And other days bring an excruciating sadness along, a weight that presses down upon you until you're paralyzed. Because you feel bad for yourself and for everything you went through. Because you’re unsure how to rise when unseen hands push you deeper into the abyss.

And on these days, Seungmin becomes your anchor. He buys your favorite food, skips classes with you, and takes you to your favorite gardens. He talks and he talks and you try your best to laugh because you do not wish to worry him more. It is enough to be your own burden, you do not wish to burden him too.

But when he drops you home, your facade slips away, the smile fading from your face as if it were never truly yours to wear. You are too tired to pretend so you don’t, and Hyunjin doesn’t let you, either. He brews you tea and orders takeout because he knows you lack the energy for cooking. He goes with you on walks and drapes you in pieces of his clothing— scarves and beanies and gloves because he knows you couldn’t care less about a cold when there is a frost coating your bones. He lets you sit in his room while he works on his songs, and while he paints. Sometimes you talk and often you don't need to. But he’s there. He's there with you.

But you also remember the good. You remember your movie night with the boys, Hyunjin building an entire fort for you, adorned with twinkling lights and the softest blankets. How you watched movies until 5 a.m. your bodies so closely huddled together that there was no room left for sadness.

You recall Hyunjin begging you to build a snowman with him at the crack of dawn, the two of you collapsing in fits of laughter as you threw snowballs at one another, your footsteps marking the fresh fallen snow.

You remember being so exhausted after one of your showers that you simply laid atop the couch, gaze fixed on the void, too drained to even untangle the knots in your hair. Yet, it is not the tiredness that you exactly recall, nor the salty tears you shed underneath the scorching water jet. But it is Hyunjin's tender hands as he brushed through your hair, his fingers tracing the nape of your neck, his knuckles ghosting over the slate of your shoulder. You remember whispering that it was a particularly hard day and Hyunjin understanding. You remember him watching many YouTube tutorials to prepare your favorite seaweed soup, only for it to end up being too salty. But you still ate it all, because he made it for you, to lift your wounded spirits. And that alone was enough for it to taste good.

You remember your heart hardening then softening again, breaking then stitching itself back together, closing off then blooming like flowers on the first day of spring. You remember smiling only to cry then smile again. And you remember liking snow, a bit more than you thought you would. Because Hyunjin was there, holding your trembling hand, steadying it enough for you to rewrite your memories with winter.

So, you want to say thank you.

You do not wish to spell it out, because there are too many things to thank Hyunjin for and too few words to do so. Instead, you drag him to the farmer’s market near your home, and you tell him to help you pick flowers.

“I could be in bed watching my favorite show and yet here I am bestowing you with my enchanting presence,” he sighs, not too modestly, as you both eye the array of colorful blooms.

“Okay, Shakespeare, are you done?” you roll your eyes, attempting your best to hide your grin.

“Done annoying you? Never. These are very pretty,” he adds, pointing to the white roses in full bloom, their delicate petals emitting a sweet fragrance into the air.

“I agree, what else should we add?” you ponder, picking out four roses.

“Mm, Hibiscus? The red in the center is so vibrant,” he suggests, taking out his phone to capture the flower.

“Cute. Baby breath’s would look good too,” you say as you gather the flowers, heading to the cashier with Hyunjin trailing behind, still admiring the delicate blooms.

“Can I write a note?” you ask the middle-aged man as he wraps the bouquet in a powder blue paper.

“Sure,” he replies with a smile, and you return the gesture, quickly jotting down your words.

“Are you done?” Hyunjin grins when you return to his side and you nod, exiting the flower shop.

“What do you think?” you ask, angling the bouquet towards him.

“It's beautiful.”

“It’s yours,” you smile, growing shier at the intensity of his gaze as it lands on you, then the flowers, then on you again. “Take it,” you hand it to him, your cheeks flushing like the hibiscus’s crimson core.

“Actually?” he says softly, his fingers trembling slightly as he accepts the flowers and you nod in response. You bite your lip as you watch him take out the note, his eyes softening once he reads the words inscribed in it— thank you for making my winter less cold.

“Should we go?” you say a tad too cheerfully, turning away, but Hyunjin grabs your wrist, spinning you around once more. His fingers trail up your arm, coming to rest gently on your cheek as he leans down to plant a tender kiss there.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment longer than necessary. You think that if his soft lips grace your skin a few times more, your nerve endings might forget the harshness they were subjected to. If his gentle hands remain on your cheeks, then maybe, your heart would heal quicker, better. Maybe your past self that you long for would emerge again, maybe Hyunjin would be able to unearth it.

Your hopeful thoughts disappear as quickly as they arrive, overshadowed by a sense of helplessness that crashes over you, all of the sudden. You sense him before you hear him, the familiar anxiety that is only synonymous with your ex’s presence.

“Yn?” the sound of your name feels harsher in his mouth, the syllables spat out rather than spoken tenderly, as they are when Hyunjin pronounces it. Your veins run cold as his voice pierces the air, your heart skipping three beats at once before plummeting to your knees. You wrap your hand around Hyunjin’s forearm instinctively, and he looks down at you, his expression morphing into one of concern.

You’re unsure of what he sees in you— whether it is your pale face, the quiver of your lower lip, or the fear that has coated all your features— but his eyes harden, his brows furrowing as he gazes at the man behind you.

You refuse to turn around, bracing yourself for his next words. “Yn,” he repeats his tone laced with anger, his fingertips grazing your arm as if intending to force you to face him. But before he can touch you, Hyunjin intervenes, swiftly stepping in between you and your ex, shielding you with his own body protectively.

“Leave,” Hyunjin's voice is cold, dripping with a venomous edge you've never heard from him before, his jaw clenching with barely contained fury.

“Is this your new shiny toy, Yn?” your ex taunts and his voice cuts through your being against your will, triggering a flood of memories you've tried so desperately to suppress. Memories of his cruelty, his manipulation, and the pain he inflicted upon you—using your love as a weapon to bolster his own ego.

“What's in it for you?” you find your voice again, though it trembles when you speak. He is the very embodiment of your pain and everything you loathe about yourself. You wish for the ground to swallow you whole, for a bolt of lightning to strike the earth, anything to spare you from facing him.

“It's only been three months, I didn't know you were a whore.”

Hyunjin's fist connects with his cheek before you can register his words. It all unfolds so rapidly that you barely have time to comprehend it. Your ex staggers back, blood trickling from the cut on his lip, while Hyunjin stands before you, his chest heaving with restrained anger, his right hand clenched into a fist, the bouquet still held tightly in the other.

“Fine, I deserved it,” your ex chuckles, his voice laced with mockery as he wipes the blood from his lip. His gaze meets yours briefly behind Hyunjin's back.

“You might not be a whore but you are unlovable, keep that in mind.” He spits out before walking away, crude words that tear at every scab covering your wounds, reopening them with a brutal force. Hyunjin moves to follow him, but you grab his shirt, pulling him back.

“He’s not worth it,” you murmur.

Your words seem to snap Hyunjin out of his haze as he turns to look at you, worry cast across his figure. He moves to cradle your cheeks but you step back, refusing to meet his eyes. He swallows thickly, clutching the bouquet in his hands. “Are you okay?”

You let out a heavy sigh, your shoulders slumping as you shake your head slightly. “Let's just go home,” you whisper, eyes fleeting to his for a split second. All the lights in your gaze are muted.

You’re crumbling before him once again and he cannot stop it, no matter how much he yearns to.

It's long past midnight when you find yourself seated on the floor of your living room, a bottle of red wine placed between you and Hyunjin. You exchange it wordlessly, taking turns sipping from it, the alcohol warming your insides but doing little to ease the ache in your heart. You don’t exactly recall when Hyunjin sat next to you, but you don’t mind. You were too lost in your own thoughts to even register his presence.

“Yn,” he calls out softly and you hum absentmindedly, memories of when your ex spoke your name haunting you, each time he yelled your name, uttered it in disdain as if it was the starting point of everything wrong with you.

“Talk to me, please?” he pleads, angling his body towards your own. But you refuse to meet his eyes and Hyunjin’s heart twists in his chest. He is afraid of all the ugly thoughts that must roam your mind. He wishes he could enter it, open the windows wide, and usher the light in.

“I'm sorry you were dragged into this,” you say, your gaze fixated on the bouquet placed atop the table. The crimson painted on the hibiscus’ petals reminds you of the blood that spilled from your ex’s mouth, and your gaze fleets to Hyunjin's hand, slightly bruised from the punch.

“Don’t apologize,” he whispers, “there is nothing to be sorry for.”

It’s as though you don’t hear him, your fingers trailing gently across his scraped knuckles, tears pooling in your eyes the more you stare at his hand.

“Does it hurt?” you ask, voice thick with emotion, and Hyunjin’s quick to shake his head. “No, don’t worry about it. He deserved it.”

“You didn’t deserve to be hurt.”

“Neither did you.”

Your disbelieving scoff that follows scares him. What if you’re slipping away into a dark place yet again, one void and barricaded, in which the only sound that echoes is your ex’s hurtful words? What if he can’t reach you again?

“If the only person I’ve ever loved says I’m unlovable then maybe I am.”

You’re drunk, you wouldn’t have said such an ugly thing otherwise, wouldn’t have allowed this sentiment to materialize into the air, to take a tangible form apart from your abstract thoughts.

“No,” Hyunjin says in a panic as though he’s trying to quickly pull the brakes on your free-railing thoughts. He cups your face between his palms, your tears falling freely atop his hands but he does not move away.

“No,” he repeats, more calmly this time. “How he treated you is a reflection of who he is. And how you see him is a reflection of who you are. And you wanted him to be loving because you’re full of love. You wanted him to be good because you are a good person. And he can’t stomach that, can’t stomach that you are happy without him so he’s trying to ruin you again.”

“Hyunjin…” you shake your head but he only inches closer to you, his thumbs gently caressing your cheekbones. “No, listen to me. Seungmin loves you so much he couldn’t eat properly for the first few days you stayed here, texted me all the time asking me how you were and if you were feeling better. He isn't good with words so instead he tries to make you laugh. He wishes he could give up parts of his happiness for you.”

A sob swells within you but Hyunjin presses on. “And Minho, he tried to memorize all your favorite recipes so he could cook them for you. It isn’t a coincidence that every time we go over to their dorm it is your favorite food that we eat. He takes more pictures of his cats these days so he could send them to you because he knows it cheers you up.”

“You told me Changbin doesn’t know you well enough to fight for you but when we saw your ex across the campus one day he wanted to get up and beat him. He always asks me if you are well and if there is something he can do for you, anything.”

He inhales deeply, tears welling up in his eyes as well. “And me…” a tender smile graces his lips as he gazes at you, “you make this house a home. I feel like my true self when you are around and loneliness doesn’t come to me as often as it did. Because you are here. You are like a beam of sunlight that lightens up every life you touch, mine first,” he’s baring his soul to you, vulnerable yet resolute. “So tell me, Yn, what’s not to love in you when you yourself are so full of love?”

“Hyune,” you speak the nickname for the first time, and Hyunjin’s heart thrashes achingly around his ribcage. “If you keep talking like this I might end up loving you,” you smile sadly at him as if it is a terrible thing to be loved by you.

“But I don’t want to love you, because I won’t know how to, not anymore. So I'll end up leaving. And I'll long for you, and I don't think I can stomach longing for you from afar.”

“So please,” you place one hand atop his own, wipe away the lone tear rolling down his cheek. “Don’t make me love you, hm? You deserve more than to be loved by someone like me.”

You leave Hyunjin in the living room, alone before the white flowers you gifted him. He doesn’t want to put them away in a vase, for as soon as he grabbed them from your hold, everything around you both crumbled. So he leaves them there for the night, the creamy white petals aglow underneath the moonlight. He spends the night painting the bouquet from memory, but the petals end up too tinged with red, perhaps mirroring the blood his heart refuses to stop spilling still.

He did not realize it before, maybe he blinded himself so he wouldn’t see what was before him all along. But it is all the clearer to him now— that in his attempts to make you love winter again, Hyunjin only ended up loving you.

A week later.

hyune [1:25 a.m.]: i miss you

You and Hyunjin spent the last seven days avoiding one another, well you more than him. He just understood your silent plea when you took a step back the one time he tried to talk to you in the kitchen, swallowing thickly before inching away, allowing you to move past him.

You did not know how to face him after what he said, partly because you were embarrassed by your own response, mostly because even in your drunken daze, his words etched themselves permanently into your memory.

It is his reassuring words that echoed in your brain for the past week, not those of your ex.

hyune [1: 26 a.m.]: and i miss sleeping on the couch

You giggle, shaking your head before replying.

yn [1:26 a.m.]: no you don’t

hyune [1:26 a.m.]: no i don’t ㅠㅠ

but i finished the song

wanna hear?

Walking to Hyunjin’s room feels as familiar as going into your own. And when your gaze finally meets his you can’t help but break into a relieved smile. It was foolish of you to punish yourself, enough people have done that for you already.

“Hey,” he greets tentatively, and you respond with an awkward wave, a moment pregnant with anticipation passes before both of you dissolve into laughter.

“What is this? Are we in middle school,” he teases and you giggle, settling comfortably on his bed once more.

“I know. We are so lame.”

“You are,” he corrects with a grin and you gasp, pretending to leave but he quickly catches your hand, stopping you. “No, please stay. I meant it when I said that I missed you,” he repeats quietly, as if afraid that his confession would make you run away once again.

Your heart aches, the knots in your stomach tightening and unraveling all at once. “I missed you too,” you admit softly, and he smiles, his thumb tracing a gentle path above your pulse before releasing your hand.

“So it's done then?” you ask and he nods, running a hand through his hair with a hint of anxiety. “How do you feel about it?”

“Good. I hope you’ll like it, mostly.”

“I'm sure I will,” you reassure him with a soft smile, and he nods once more, pressing a few buttons before his melodious whistles fill the air once again.

Nothing could have braced you for the sound of Hyunjin's voice that followed, its timbre soft as silk yet imbued with profound sorrow. It's as though he recorded the song on one of his loneliest nights, his honeyed vocals dipped in an excruciating nostalgia that seeps into every corner of the room, every corner of your heart.

In the faded photo, I come across a smile spread across a youthful face, overlapped with the seasons.

Your gaze flickers to Hyunjin as a shadow of recollection dawns on you. You remember telling him that you couldn’t stomach looking at pics of your past, ones in which you smiled so freely because you were blissfully unaware of what was to come.

The night’s so cold that it’s almost unreal.

Because you weren’t aware of the winter that will follow and the biting cold that it would bear, for everything that will go astray in your relationship, for your ex's facade to crack like a glacier succumbing to the pressure of lies and pretense.

I wake up in another silence, and I close my eyes.

You remember Hyunjin confessing that silence haunted him more than words ever could, and you had agreed, sharing how sometimes you shut your eyes, pretending that the reality you woke up to wasn't the one you were living.

The white flower we planted together has bloomed. I do not dare pick it. Now it withers away.

You gaze at the white flowers you brought him, now wilted in the vase placed on his desk, yet Hyunjin refuses to throw them still. You see the card you wrote for him hung on the wall, right next to the dried red rose. He kept it. Though it withered, he kept it all.

So I long for you. And I long for you. And I'll long for you.

You remember the longing you both spoke of, how he understood a feeling you felt so incredibly alone in. How he tried to reassure you when he too was caught in the webs of the past. How you longed for him in the past week. How you wished he longed for you just the same.

So I can keep loving you. So I could be loving you. And morе.

The violin swells and so does the emotion in your chest. You remember him asking you ‘What’s not to love in you’ and how you've spun those words in your thoughts ever since. You remember thinking that if he gave you a few more weeks, just a bit more time, you might have found it in you to believe them.

You see Hyunjin’s glimmering eyes holding yours, you see his heart atop a platter handed to you, and you see the resignation in his being. Don’t make me love you, you told him. You didn’t dare to tell him not to love you in return, deemed it too foolish of thought to entertain.

For he was Hwang Hyunjin, the quiet producer who paints in his free time and who wears his heart on his sleeve. Who remains hopeful, loving, and tender, despite the thorns pricking at his side. Who is beautiful, so much so that he allowed you to see beauty in the universe once again, through his eyes.

How could he love you?

How could you not love him?

“The song,” you whisper, the words barely escaping your lips as you stand, trembling, on your feet. Hyunjin rises too, meeting you in the center of his room.

“It is about you. For you,” he says simply as if his words don’t cause your world to burst at the seams only to mend itself once again, too eager to fix itself and exist in the same timeline as Hyunjin.

“I don't… I don’t know what to say,” you say earnestly, feeling your heart pound in your chest, its beats resounding loudly in your ears.

It is wrong of you to assume he wishes you to say something. He is Hyunjin, the one who finds words in your silences too, after all.

“I don’t need you to say anything,” he shakes his head, taking another step closer to you. “I don't want an answer, I don't wish to pressure you. I just wanted to tell you that my love is here, it is yours to take or to leave, to cherish or to discard. But it is yours, because this is who I am. I am someone who loves you.”

“So do not tell me to forget you because I don't know how to. And don’t tell me that you’ll leave because I will love you still, because you’d still be you, near or far, you are you. And you are someone I long for.” He pauses, his voice softening. “And I long for you, Yn, more than anything I've ever longed for. And I've spent all my life longing.”

His lips meet your forehead tenderly, and you feel your entire being grow limp at the chaste kiss, as if your limbs wish to liquefy and form a puddle on the floor. His touch is soft, and you miss it the moment he parts from you.

“There must be something in this room that keeps on making you cry,” he smiles and you bring your hands to your damp cheeks, surprised to find there tears you didn’t realize had fallen.

“It’s you,” you pinch his arm playfully and he squirms away from your hold, stabbing his toe on the desk in the process. A loud fuck echoes around the room, and your laughter dissipates the tension clinging into the air.

“Can you play it again?” you request softly and Hyunjin’s theatrics fade as a shy smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

“Is it good?”

“It's everything to me.”

“It's called ‘long for you’, by the way.”

“Long for you,” you repeat quietly. There has never been a prettier combination of words.

The title all but makes sense as you lay on the bed, your gaze fixed on the paintings hung on the wall, Hyunjin sketching quietly on his desk, the song resonating softly in the background. You've longed for many things in your life—the person you once were and the tender love you once craved—but amidst it all, nothing has weighed heavier on your heart than the longing for the man sitting just two meters away, almost in your loving grasp. Almost.

❁ ❁ ❁

It is an excruciating five days that Hyunjin spends apart from you, the both of you too caught up in your assignments to find a moment to properly speak. But you do not shy away from him when he greets you, and your grin is kind as it drapes across his being, and Hyunjin swears he has never seen a prettier sight than you smiling.

On the sixth night, Hyunjin completes the cover for the song— a figure wrapped around itself protectively, mirroring the way you hug yourself in your sleep. He hangs it on the wall, right next to your thank you card and the white bouquet he drew once again, wishing to properly immortalize its beautiful flowers, to purify that memory from the tumult that followed it.

On the sixth night, the house is quiet, the full moon high up in the sky, snowflakes falling softly to the ground. Hyunjin wonders if you too mimicked the snow’s descent— both of you falling apart with it.

But then, there’s a knock on his door.

His heart catches in his throat, his body freezing as if it forgot how to move. You are here.

“Come in,” he manages to say, his voice barely above a whisper. You push the door open, and Hyunjin's words wilt on his tongue as he sees what you're carrying—another bouquet, filled with white flowers, yet again.

“Hey,” you smile, standing by the door.

He remains silent, unsure of what to say, or how to speak. He longs for you when you are away, even more so when you’re before him.

“We shouldn't let these white flowers wither away too, right?” you smile slightly, placing the bouquet on the desk before walking to Hyunjin’s bedside. His voice falters, vocal cords refusing to move and overshadow your voice.

You sit beside him, gently pulling his hand so that you’d both lie on the pillows. Your hand doesn’t leave his own, instead, it moves to rest on his cheek, reminiscent of the many times he had cradled your face before. Inch by inch, you close the gap between you, nuzzle the tip of your nose against his own. “Hi, Hyune”, you say softly, and he swallows thickly, his voice coming out just as quietly.

“Hi, my Yn.”

“If we take care of the white flowers together do you think they’ll survive a bit longer?” you ask, your gaze never wavering from his, countless stars twinkling in the depths of your irises.

“I believe so,” he says tentatively, too aware of the warmth of your palm against his skin, of the sweet ache unfurling within his being.

“Mm, and even if they wilt we can always buy new ones. We can learn how to care for them better, with time,” you say, and he nods in agreement, laying his hand atop your own, tilting his head to bestow a chaste kiss on your palm.

“With time,” he echoes softly and you smile, vulnerable yet secure in his gray sheets, in his hold.

“Will you give me time too?” you ask, and Hyunjin reads in your eyes what you mean, understands in the shake of your voice the question you are too afraid to voice. Will he give you time to heal in order to love?

“As long as you need. I’m not going anywhere,” he reassures, pressing his forehead gently atop yours, and you both close your eyes, as a running warmth encloses you both, blooms a blush on both your cheeks.

His arms wrap around your back, drawing you close until your chests are pressed together, your head resting naturally in the curve of his neck. And it is long forgotten in your mind, all the nights you slept in this very bed alone. You feel safe, safe enough to long for love knowing that it patiently awaits you behind the door, once you find enough courage to turn the doorknob. You feel serene, as Hyunjin’s warm palms glide soothingly up and down your spine, as every muscle, every nerve, every atom in your being relaxes in his hold.

You are healing, slowly, with each fleeting second that passes in which Hyunjin’s heartbeat resounds within your chest, as its melody runs through your veins, melds with your own as if it was destined to be there all along. As you rest in Hyunjin, as you find a safe home within his soul to discard your worries at the doorstep and breathe.

“It did get better,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade. “Hm?” He leans back to look at you, and he’s so beautiful, so tender as he gazes at you, you can’t help but trace the contours of his face with your fingers, hoping to commemorate him with your eyes, with your touch.

“You promised me it’ll get better, and it did,” you smile, as your legs further intertwine with his, and his rose perfume becomes an indelible mark on your skin. “Too bad I can't hit your pretty face now,” you joke and he giggles, tipping his head back.

He's so beautiful, body and soul, and he longs for you, you alone.

“But I can still do this,” you murmur before finally pressing your lips against his like a boat finally reaching the shore after months of sailing. You both exhale, in yearning, in relief, as your mouths move together in a slow, languid dance, his hand finding the pulse on your neck, yours settling atop his jaw.

He would kiss you again, this intimately, in the coming months, when your heart expands enough to contain the love Hyunjin deserves. He would kiss you again, when your past comes to haunt you, and healing sounds like an elusive myth you’d never encounter in your life.

And he would kiss you again, over the kitchen table and under the fridge’s light, in between paintings and in supermarket aisles, while picking flowers and watching the first snow.

He would kiss you, this tenderly, in the next winter, and the ones after it, as if his longing for you never wanes. Till blow three disappears from your memory, till all you remember is the love, the true one, the kind one, the soft one Hyunjin alone could have brought you.

[bi-writes]

so idk where i got this idea but mercenary!ghost x fem!reader because he's scary and mean and dangerous but then he sees some girl's ass in light blue denim.

notes about reader: as always, i tend to write readers described as curvy because im curvy and we deserve attention from 6'4 beefcakes who are soft only for us. reader is a civilian.

mercenary!ghost (part 1/?)

cw: mature language and content, suggestive language and content, dark!ghost, mentions of ghost's past canon trauma (domestic abuse + violence), mw3 spoilers, violence and gore + mentions of murder and extortion, mentions of reader + domestic abuse, protective!simon, size kink (reader is described as much smaller than simon, easily manhandled by him), pet names (luv, bunny + rabbit, puppy, angel face), reader learns she has a dark side and she likes it, nsfw thoughts about reader, suggestive touching (fem!receiving)

the sound of the burner phone pings on the desk in front of him. when he picks it up, he narrows his eyes as he reads the message displayed across the screen.

DEPOSITED.

when he opens his laptop, his eyes scan over the balance on an offshore account, and he relaxes when he sees the hefty balance climb just a little higher. he closes the device once he's satisfied with what he sees; and like always, he tastes the warmth of that satisfaction. it's a nice high, but it won't last, and then he'll need to feed the gaping hole that lives in him.

it remains hungry. he has never been able to close it--it has only ever gotten wider, ripped at the seams and torn at the edges every time another body close to him drops.

the high is poison. but even if it kills him, no one will miss him. so he picks up the handgun that lays haphazard on the bed, and he tucks it into the back of his jeans.

he passes by the mirror as he fits a dark denim jacket over his shoulders. he stares back at himself, a recognizable beast of a man staring right back. he pulls his hoodie up over him, and in the shadow of it, all he can see are his dark eyes, pale skin peeking through the eyeblack that has lightened up with the wear of it throughout the day.

he craves something strong and warm tonight. he itches for something soft, too, something that makes him forget the red on his ledger, even if for only a few hours.

there is nothing quite strong enough to wipe that kind of stain away. he is nothing if not a reaper, and he buries bodies with the same tenacity that he had when he wore his country's flag on his chest. this time, however, he does not take orders--he names his price.

he thinks something is wrong with him. some used to say that it was his courage that brought him back from the dead--that his heart is too strong, his will to live too much, and that is how he continues to open his eyes and live another day. but he doesn't agree with this thought, because he doesn't really think he feels anything at all.

he doesn't feel human. he doesn't feel alive. the only thing that makes him feel any sort of vulnerability is how red his own blood is when he bleeds. when his scars heal jagged and crooked, it is because there is something underneath the skin. but he feels nothing inside--no remorse, no guilt, he is not sorry.

he does not check to see if those men are innocent. he does not care about the names that end up on his list. he doesn't ask questions. and he thinks something is wrong with him because he sleeps at night just fine now; the nightmares have gone. he is alone, and it is peaceful.

there are no voices. there is only silence. and there is something wrong with him.

the pub is quiet. it is a weekday, and the only patrons are here after a long day's work, and they all look into the depths of their half-empty glasses hoping to find relief there. there is none, but they will finish their glasses hoping it might be dissolved in the alcohol.

he asks for two fingers of bourbon. it stings when it goes down, but then it settles warm. he is poured another two fingers of it, but before he can pick it up, someone else grips the glass and tips it back to swallow it down.

the glass hits the wood of the counter with an echoing thud, and you cough out a fuck as you settle into the seat beside him. you run a trembling hand over your face, and he notices immediately the red of your knuckles and the splitting of the skin there. they are fresh; the bruising is still new, and the blood is just barely beginning run down the back of your hand.

he leans over the bar, swiping the whole bottle of bourbon, and he silently pours more into the glass, hitting it towards you before picking up a new glass and filling it generously.

"who's the lucky bastard?" he asks, and your eyes flick to the cuts on the back of your hand before going back to the dark swirling colors of the drink.

"i'm sure he'll be coming in here any second to introduce himself."

the pub doors slam open, and there is a man coming in, chest heaving, dark hair falling over his forehead in sweaty curls that do nothing to hide the clear bruise on his face the split of his lip. his eyes move over the room before they settle on you, and his boots fall heavy as he makes his way over.

ghost sees his intentions clear immediately. the way his hand twitches at his side, the angry glare, the uncontrollable urge to hurt and to take and to control coming off of him like steam.

he has seen this kind of man before. this man was the one that kept him up at night as a child. this man was the one that scared his mum, that drove his brother to chase vices, that tore apart a house that should've been filled with something warm and sticky and kind into one marred with teeth, rotten and putrid and forgotten.

his hand goes for the back of your neck, and you close your eyes and tense in the anticipation, but it never comes. a strong hand grips his outstretched one, and the man cries out as ghost twists it behind his back and uses his other hand to slam his face into the wood of the bar, trapping him there.

the bartender does not even flinch, just continues to wipe down glasses. the patrons continue to stare into the abyss of their sorrow.

you jump a little, your head snapping to the side where the man squirms and sputters, his face going pale from the paw of a hand gripping him by the back of the neck and shoving his face into the counter. if he pushes any harder, you wonder if it'd splinter and fray, dig into the bones of his bruised cheek.

"this man botherin' ya, yeah?"

your eyes finally flick up. you do not know what you expect, but it isn't this. you can only see his eyes; they scare you. you do not lie because you aren't entirely sure how far his kindness will go.

"yes," you whisper, and when the man tries to spit at you, a rough gloved hand grips his curls and positions his head against the edge of the counter, forcing his mouth open until the top row of his teeth bite the wood.

"y'keep talkin' to her, n'it'll be the last time you talk, hear that, mate? y'talk to me, n'me only."

you swallow hard, and the man trembles. a strong boot hits the back of his knees, and then he's crumbling to the ground, his jaw straining as the counter is still forced against his mouth. hot, pained tears come down his face, and then he addresses you.

"what did he do?"

"bad first date," is all you can manage to sputter. he grips the man by the scruff of his neck before pulling him off to speak, tilting his head to the side as he observes the begging man on his knees.

"y'try to put your hands on'er?"

"i-it wasn't...like that! i-it was just a mis...a misunderstanding, please! please--please tell him--!"

"don't like fuckin' liars either," is the only warning given before his mouth is forced to bite the counter, and then a sharp elbow comes down on his head. you jump in surprise at the suddenness of it all, and you close your eyes when you hear the crunch of teeth being broken. his scream is enough to rattle the pub, but when you look around, it's as if nothing at all has happened. it is quiet, and all the bartender does is shake their head.

when you open your eyes, he's crawling on his hands and knees out of the pub, and what he leaves behind is a mess of blood and teeth and fluid that are splattered against the floor at your feet. you shake as you look up at him, stiff in your seat and soft tears coming down your face.

he towers over you. you have to tilt your head back between your shoulders to look at him face-to-face. you cannot see his face; he hides it behind dark fabric, but his eyes talk loud. they are dark, and they are dull, and you realize as you stare up at him that he is not phased in the slightest by what he had just done. in fact, he steps into your space, and the squelch of blood under his boot doesn't seem to bother him. he wears black, and you wonder, momentarily, if he wears such a color to hide the red hiding between the threads of the fabric. the red he can't wash away.

"let me look at ya, little rabbit."

you flinch when he knocks your knees apart, spreading them to make space for the width of him. he reaches up with one gloved hand and grips your chin, tilting your head to either side to see if you are hurt anywhere but your hand. when he is satisfied with his observations, he cups the expanse of your throat, smoothing those big fingers along the pulsing vein there and feeling the way you swallow.

so alive. so soft. a pretty little bunny, dropped into his waiting hands.

his eyes fall, and he takes you in. wide hips that take up the seat you're sitting in, hugged so nicely by light blue denim jeans. they curve over the swell of your ass, and he wonders how much of it would fit in his palm--he thinks about how it might feel to spread them apart and taste the succulent sweetness that he knows exists between your thighs and how your mouth might look slack jawed and wide open for him.

you look like a good girl, even with bloody knuckles.

then he follows the line of your shirt. it's a simple t-shirt tucked into your jeans, but the neckline gives a nice peek of you and the curve of your tits--they sit so nicely there, all perky, and ghost thinks they look lonely. they would be better off in his mouth or squeezing his cock between them or pebbling between his dirty gloved fingers.

filthy. disgusting. he is scarred all over, and you look so soft and sweet, with those tender puppy eyes and the way your lips tremble, and he bets you kiss all soft and slippery. he bets your cunt is tight and with enough coaxing, he could make you drench his skin with something decadent and slick, with whatever drools into your panties. he imagines it is there now, even as you tremble and shake and plead with your eyes for him to let go of your throat.

but ghost is not a good man. he does not feel; he is not a man at all. he is a beast in the shape of one, disguised, and he brings misery to everything he touches. he knows he will do it to you, too--touching pretty girls, he leaves them with burns. they are not the same after they are with him, and he wants to feel bad about it, he wants to feel something, but he does not. he feels nothing.

"you olright, luv?"

you nod frantically, putting a hand over his wrist that holds you, and he almost laughs. your hand is so much smaller than his own. if he squeezes his hand just a little harder, he figures it would not take much to break what lies beneath it. he leans in, and you gulp when your thighs trap his hips. he is warm, a furnace that burns, but you relax when the side of his mask nuzzles against your face.

he is a dog, and he is fond of you.

you should run. you should hit him like you hit your wretched date, and you should run, far, away from him, swear off men for good and never allow one in your space again lest they be as beastly as this. you should run while you can, but you are a bunny not yet in his trap, and you still have time to escape.

but then both of your eyes open at the same time, and his eyes meet your own, and then--oh.

the cage snaps shut. it rattles around you. it is small and confined, but you don't realize what it is yet because you can still breathe, and it is still warm, and you are still soft and alive and here.

your face softens, and his eyes flicker down to your lips as you lick them. maybe he was right. liars are bad. men like the one you were with before were scum. you had been with men like that before, you had seen the destruction they brought to those they thought they loved. when they wrought fear and made others bleed, they never got in trouble. no one cared to do to them what they deserved because they silenced their lambs and slaughtered the light out of them.

it is biblical--an eye for an eye. if they take from you, why can't you take from them?

it is brutish men like this one that do what others are too timid to. your thighs close around his hips, and you feel something digging into your leg, something metal and heavy tucked into his jeans. a weapon, but you imagine it is a mercy because you have an inkling that what he does with his hands is so much worse. bullets are clean and fast; his hands are not.

johnny would tell him to let you go. he does, over his shoulder, spitting at him to leave, to let you slip through his fingers and find your way out, to open the cage.

the wee lass--look at 'er angel face. let 'er go--not meant for this, LT. she scares. 's in 'er eyes. won't last.

but he does not feel. he is not human. there is something wrong with him, he knows it, but he doesn't care. he will ruin you, and he should feel bad, but he can't, he doesn't. and then there it is--your eyes are flickering low, eyeing the mask, and you are wondering how much effort it would take to push it up and lick into his mouth, taste him, suck the warmth of the bourbon from his mouth and replace it with your own.

he will kill again. the cage is shut, it is locked, and he is watching the bunny in its cage, watching as it becomes aware of its surroundings, takes in what is new. but just like he figures, just like he knows, this little bunny has no idea what this cage is. she has no idea she is even in one.

fuck what johnny says. if johnny was like him, if he was not skin and bone but steel and reptile, he would not have died. he would have come back. he would have moved his head, shaken the blood off, and gotten back up, but he didn't, and he's not here, and he's not real--so fuck what he thinks, fuck what he says, fuck him because he left me, and i'm all alone, and if i don't devour and eat and tear apart, i will wither away because i am not me, i am something else--

he smiles under the mask. you notice it, the slight movement there, and you smile, too, suddenly. his hand falls, and the back of his knuckles graze over the swell of your breast, down your stomach, and then he's gripping your waist. that hand slips behind you, and you brace yourself with both hands on his chest as he cups one side of your ass. possessive and suffocating--you think maybe you should run again, but you don't want to.

you want something more. you want something a little rough, something a little sharp. you want something to tell you that a little blood is good sometimes. that answering blood with a little more blood was exactly how it should be. that we don't have to be docile, to back down. you want to be told that it's okay to bite.

there is something wrong with you.

[mrsbarnesblog]

Mattheo Riddle headcanons

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Summary: what is it like dating Mattheo

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: fluff, no mention of y/n, you can be in any house, spicy content under the warning

Author’s note: For all my Bucky fanfic readers, I'm sorry that I haven’t posted in almost a month. This December is just too overwhelming, and every time I tried to finish my fic, it felt like I was wasting my time. I literally just miss the ending, and I hope to finish it as soon as possible.

For my possible new followers and/or HP stans, Mattheo is my current obsession, and I’m literally head over heels for him. And you know what they say: if you can’t find a fanfic that you like, write it yourself. So yeah, I'm trying something new, and I have a few ideas that are poisoning my head every single minute lmao.

sorry if there are any mistakes. hope you’ll like it💘🎀

Mattheo was never that much of a playboy because he didn’t like to share his space and, well, communicate with people in general

Due to his family, he was really reserved and refused to be weak

You weren’t that popular in school, so he had never really noticed you but one day, you suddenly started hanging out with Pansy and he could not get you out of his head anymore

He hated it

He hated that you occupied all of his thoughts for at least a few weeks 

Tried to ignore his feelings for you as long as possible, but from the moment you two had to work together on the project, everything went downhill 

He was scared to ask you out, not ready to be rejected by the only person he genuinely liked and thinking that maybe you secretly hated him like everyone else

At the beginning of the relationship, Mattheo told you that sometimes he might get cold and distant, but it wasn’t your fault and that you should just give him some time 

Mattheo is romantic and for his favorite girl, he always arranged the best dates

He was nervous to kiss you after the first date when he walked you to your dorm

Little did he know, but that sexy smirk and the way he looked at you all night drove you insane

So you just pulled him by the tie, connecting your lips

Since then, Mattheo has been addicted to you

Hands are always on you, holding your hand, your waist or your thighs

Looks at you as if you hung the moon and the stars

He kisses you in front of everyone to make sure that they know that you are his, and he is yours

Likes to pull into into his lap while he’s talking with his friends in the common room

Holding you close, slowly strokes your arms or your back, unable to keep his hands away from you

Whispers sweet nothings

Loves your smell and always buries his nose into your hair

He wears rings and allows you to steal them

His hoodies and t-shirts too

Secretly likes to be little spoon or lay on your chest while your hands are playing with his curls

Buys you everything you might possibly like, even though you always tell him to stop spending his money on you

Likes to study with you because you can actually get ready for the lessons while he has another opportunity to stare at you 

So overprotective and always snaps back at people who, even in the slightest way, disrespect you

He never lets you go to the parties alone in case some creepy guys decide to hit on you

Possesive

When you’re wearing revealing clothes, one part of him is proud and wants to brag that his girlfriend is the sexiest woman on the planet, but the other part wants to cover you with big blanket and keep you to himself

Always sarcastic and sassy

Fights a lot 

He had never gone to the medical wing because he wasn’t used to asking for help, but since you started dating, he let you heal his wound 

Loves when you scold him for those fights, just because you look so cute when you’re angry and he has an excuse to kiss and spoil you 

He has anger issues, but he has never raised his voice at you

Actually, you are like a sedative to him because only you can calm him down in a matter of seconds 

Will never make you feel uncomfortable or insecure

You don’t like something or someone? Mattheo will make sure to get you out of the room and won’t let that person come near you ever again

The way you call him “Matty” turns him into a literal puddle

Can’t sleep without you in his arms

spicy

During your first time, he was super attentive and always checked whether you were okay or not

Praises. A lot of fucking praises

“You’re taking me so good, my love”, “you look so pretty when you cum around me.” 

He likes every position, but prefers when he can see your face

There is literally not a single place in his dorm where you two haven’t had sex

Gets turned on literally by everything you do

He’s risky. As soon as he finds out that you actually liked it, he always teases you under the table, pulls you into the storage rooms, and talks dirty while there are a lot of people around

Got you two in detention a few times for getting caught kissing at night by Snape (you were lucky that he caught you before Mattheo’s hands slipped under your skirt)

His personal favorite is sex in the astronomy tower. The way you’re trying to hold back your moans drives him crazy

Also bathtub in the prefects’ bathroom, where you love to sit with him deep inside of you  

He usually dominates, but sometimes likes to let you be in charge and see how you ride him

He has a big appetite, and what is the best way to deal with it? Right, you.

Mattheo would’ve spent hours in between your legs if you allowed him

He never asks for anything in return, but still seeing you on your knees for him is a fucking miracle

Your hair are around his hand, while you’re taking as much of him in your mouth as you can

Eye contact

He’s willing to try in bed anything that you want, except things that might get you hurt

He likes to keep his hand on your neck while he’s thrusting into you but never actually squeezes

Can be rough and fast or really gentle and slow, depending on the mood

After someone pisses him off or if you had a small fight, he always fucks you into the bed with your hands pinned above you until you’re literally crying from pleasure

By the way, when you don’t have time to put a spell on the room, it gives him satisfaction to know that everyone hears the way you moan for him

He always makes sure that you came, and if you didn’t, he’s more than happy to go down on you

Love confessions 

Aftercare is a must

Hugs, kisses, food, baths—anything you might want

He always keeps you close until you fall asleep and then just stares at you, wondering how he could be so happy to have you  

[ashdreams2023]

Dating Harry James potter headcanons:

He’s an early bird, like it’s muscle memory by this point all thanks to the Dursleys

Hugs a pillow when he sleeps but when you start sleeping together he hugs you from behind

Likes it when you play with his messy hair

A lot of late night talks, and if you were in another house he would use a mirror like the one Sirius had sent him to communicate

He spends a lot of money on you, like it’s crazy stop him! But seriously it’s sorta of his love language

Appreciates handmade items because they feel special

Always makes sure to get you something if he’s out buying something for himself

Ticklish, do what you want with that information

Likes warping his arm around your shoulders and holding your hand

He has a muggle camera that he uses to take photos of you and puts them in an album

Sometimes he get into his own head and you have to level him down

he stims and uses his wand to tap on things or does those bunny jumps when he’s excited

Is practically blind without his glasses so it’s not out of the norm to see him all bruised up in the morning because he pumped into the nightstand and fell on his face

Very self conscious about his physical image, thinks he’s too scrawny and the only good looking thing about him is his eyes

Likes it when you wear his hoodies, he usually wears them two to three sizes bigger anyways

Likes taking you on rides on Sirius’s motorcycle around muggle London

Talks about you to Ron and hermione but mostly hermione

Ron is the one who teases him the most before he gets the guts to ask you out and after you two start dating

Your dates are simple mostly, nothing extreme but also fun, especially if you also come from a muggle background

If you make him a bracelet like ones of those plastic ones you know damn well he won’t ever take that thing off

Let’s you heal his wounds and swears up and down that trouble is the one looking for him and not the other way around

He’s an idiot who thinks he can’t pick presents but ends up getting the most thoughtful gifts you’ve ever received because he knows how important is to know someone before gifting them anything

This has been in my drafts for too long

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part nineteen —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

The cool paste feels tingly on your skin as you rub it against your bruised stomach, wincing. Christ. Maybe Ghost was right to think he might break you. Beneath the mottled patchwork, another kind of pain stirs— your muscles are growing. Firm and tight. The only soft parts of you left are your breasts and your ass. Gently applying the paste to a nasty purple one on your left cheek, you curiously pinch the sore flesh between your fingers. Scratch that. Even your ass is firming up. 

Arnica has healing properties. Yesterday, you found a patch of it with Blue and created a salve with some water. You already applied some last night before bed. Whether or not it’s helping probably doesn't mean much when new ones are about to be added; still, the placebo effect brings some comfort.

You're still massaging your backside when the bathroom door groans beneath a heavy fist. 

"Hurry up. Grab your bow."

“Shit.” You startle, almost dropping the salve. "Uh, coming.”

Chucking on a clean shirt and your old pair of jeans, you pad out of the bathroom, ignoring the cry of your joints. Ghost is outside waiting for you. Wait— bow? Confusion delivers an uptick to your pulse; you never bring your bow to train.

“What’s going on?”

"The air," he replies in a flat tone.

The stale smell offers enough explanation. You cringe. "Should we split up?"

He shakes his head and nods towards the direction the gentle breeze is rolling in. "No need. It's coming from this way."

In the violet wash of morning, you trail beside him over tall grasses and scattered groundhog burrows as the air leads the way, luring you opposite the clearing where you train. There haven't been any Greys since the one you burned together. For the past few weeks, you'd almost forgotten about their existence— a pleasant naivety for once. 

Neither of you bothers with much small talk. He asks if you're sore, probably noticing how stiff you are, and you answer honestly. That's it.

You keep your attention strictly on the wood bow molded into your palm and the slight rustling of leaves all around you, scanning for signs of anything astray. You don't look at Ghost, even when you feel his eyes flicker to the side of your head. Staring at him for even a second longer than necessary rouses something in your gut that was once easy to label as fear; now you don't know what to call it.

He is wearing thicker clothes today, the intimidating vest stocked with ammo glued to his chest. You'd gotten used to his more casual wardrobe of gym shorts and hoodies. They make him look... softer, almost. A little less like a death omen. Though, you sincerely doubt there are any soft parts of Ghost left under all that gear, given the rigid planes you felt beneath your hands when you—

"There."

You snap your gaze in the direction Ghost is pointing at.

At first, you don't see anything.

Then, squinting, you make out a red color far too metallic to naturally sprout among the conifers. 

An arrow is urgently slotted on the bowstring as the two of you head towards it, your brows tightly knitted. You've been this way a few times and never saw a— is that a red car?— before. Closing in, your suspicions are confirmed when a stroke of sunlight bounces off the metal bumper. The patchy sedan is tucked within a bush, tail-end sticking out, with half-flat tires resting on corroded rims. Shadows of movement dance behind the tinted windows, too disjointed to be natural.

"What the fuck?" you mutter under your breath, boots scuffing over a long-faded gravel pathway that is now shrouded in weeds. The car must've been following it before winding up in the bush— the occupants no longer human enough to drive.

"They... they must have just turned while they were driving," you think aloud. "When did this even get here?"

"Maybe during the night," Ghost mutters.

He paces forward and swings open the passenger door. A string of moans is released as a Grey lurches within the confinements of the seatbelt, but he quickly silences it with a bullet to the forehead, causing it to flop sideways out of the car. Maybe just a day ago, it was a young man. His hair is fully intact and he's wearing a blue shirt with the Chelsea Football Club logo on the back.

"I wonder why they were driving this way to begin with," you say quietly, stomach rolling.

In the driver's seat is the slumped-over corpse of an older man, having died from so many bite wounds before the infection could take hold. The early stages of decomposition smell almost worse than the infection and you have to breathe through your mouth as you head for the back door. 

"There's another here I think."

You're ready to shoot and put whoever it once was out of their misery when you pry open the door, but the sight of a small body wriggling around makes you freeze. Curled up against the faded leather is an infected boy, no older than eight or nine. His eyes are all white except for the outer rim where a few vessels are still filled with red blood. Your fingertips dig fiercely into the frame of the door as you stare down at him; his soft brown hair, his small hands, his Minecraft shirt. He whimpers and tries to claw at you, mouth hung open in mindless hunger.

The feeling that washes over you is hot and cold at the same time. It's not the first or last time you've seen an infected child, so you don't know why the sight traps you for a few heartbeats.

A voice emerges beside you. "It's not a kid anymore."

You almost forgot Ghost was there. Your teeth clench. "Yeah, I know."

You feel his eyes burning into you. Your fingers tighten and untighten around the arrow's stem as you aim. 

"Hone it, Twix— the anger."

The tension in your jaw releases at the same time as your arrow snaps forward, cutting through the boy's skull and driving his limp body down to the car floor.

“You good?”

You forcefully swallow and look away, giving Ghost a short nod. "Guess that's all of them."

He slowly nods in agreement, studying you, but all he says is, "For now."

“Don’t you think it’s strange?”

“Seen stranger things over the years,” he says. “It seems like they were headed somewhere, maybe needed a new place to settle, and one of them got bit. Infected the others.”

You nod, thinking it over. “What about the car?"

"No fuel left, so it's pretty useless." Rifle still in his grip, he moves around to the hood and props it open. "Might have some parts I can use, though."

While he scavenges for gears that aren't rusted beyond functionality, you take a look at their belongings. There is an empty bottle of whiskey in the cupholder. In the boy's lap is a stuffed tiger that you assume was once white, but now it's a worn of grey. You carefully shift his corpse and take it.

"I have a friend who might be able to care of this for you."

In the trunk, at least, you find some tripwire. 

Dragging the two adult bodies back to the trench for burning is your 'strength' training for the day. Since they haven't decomposed much yet, they're heavy; you go back and forth, taking one at a time. Ghost carries the small one over his shoulder. After the flames snuff out the smell of rot, he relieves you, claiming he has other shit to take care of—more traps to set with the newfound tripwire.

"Hey. Would you like this?" you ask Blue when she's up, handing her the tiger. 

"I'm kinda too old for dolls, Twix." She must see the expression on your face because she shakes her head and disappears into her room for a minute before coming out with a teddy bear. "My mom gave me this one when I was a baby and it just sits on my bed by itself, but now it can have a friend."

You smile and nod. "Yeah, okay."

The day is spent playing board games with her. When she notices how sore you are, she offers an exclusive massage from Grim, who hops over your back and legs as you relax face-down on the couch. However, even with the honorary treatment, the aching lingers. 

"Auntie, I'm over here!"

In a violet-tinted field, you search for the voice.

It's barren and hazy, with no hard edges or places for a little boy to hide; so why is it so hard to find him? You call his name. You wander around, aimless, until you catch a familiar whiff of baked cinnamon and fresh laundry. This way. He's this way. You start running fervently. When a small hand tugs at yours, you whip around and try to grab him, but the soft touch dissolves through your fingers like ash. 

When you wake up, there's a hand on your back and blood on your tongue, evidence that you'd bitten through it during your sleep. The taste is quickly replaced with bile as you launch up, grabbing the sleeve of someone's shirt.

"Oh no, you don't."

The hand moves to your hair, wrapping it around in a fistful before forcing your head to tilt down. A bucket is tucked beneath your chin. You vomit into it, the cool metal rim hissing against your fingertips. Again and again. When it's all out, your throat feels like sandpaper. 

"Done?"

The dark room surrounds you; the perfect place to hide what you know must be a ghastly look on your face. Awareness creeps in, and you're not thrilled by the fact that you've thrown up in front of him twice now. Without looking up at the white skull you know is there, you nod.

Wordlessly, he takes out a cigarette and lighter. You hear a deep inhale. See the dull glow of the flame. Then, he passes it to you and leaves.

"You look like shit today."

You can't even be offended, fully aware of the purple painted beneath your eyes. One look at you quirks his brow up in that annoying mannerism of his.

You offer a tight-lipped simper, mumbling. "At least I can always count on you for brutal honesty."

"Good trait to look for in an ally." He throws the gauze at you and you begin wrapping up. "I don't suppose it has anything to do with the fact you nearly ruined another shirt of mine last night."

You tie off the gauze and glance up. "Look, I'm s—" you stop yourself, "I mean, I'm not sorry, because you wanted my box open so now it's open. You already knew the potential consequences."

"Try opening it without emptying your stomach next time."

You flash him a look. "I think I miss when you pretended I didn't exist."

"And I miss getting a full night of sleep."

"Can we just get started? I'm ready."

Ghost keeps his eyes on you as he motions a fisted hand. "As you wish."

When the familiar dance begins, and adrenaline ripples up your spine, you realize that you missed this yesterday. The rest felt good, but this— the thrill of seeing Ghost start to get as worked up as you, the sweat stains on his shirt matching your own... it is something you itch for these days. 

You get a few hits in that have your ego swelling. But then— the rough night catches up with you after half an hour of wordless sparring. Your breathing grows labored, while his is barely winded.

"Tired yet?" he asks.

"No," you say, but he calls you out immediately.

"You're a terrible liar," he reminds you. A few more swings have your lungs burning as you dodge until one finally catches up with you, and whatever healing your homemade salve has done is erased by a fresh layer of pain. 

As you clutch your side, he changes the subject. "Are you going to tell me what it was about then?"

"What what was about?"

"Whatever was making you whimper in your sleep."

Your face twists. "I wasn't 'whimpering'."

"Fine, then. Crying," he corrects plainly.

You sigh through your nose, averting your gaze only for a moment, then focusing back on him before he can strike you again. His words hang in the air, ignored, as you jab an elbow toward his ribs. He grabs you by the knob of it and pulls you unnecessarily close to his chest. When you try to wriggle free by placing a hand on his chest, he fists your hair, which has slipped out of a bun into a haphazard ponytail, and tugs hard enough to force your eyes up to his.

His gaze is demanding but his voice is light— a mere breath over your forehead. "Tell me why someone who has seen plenty of infected kids by now seemed so bothered by the one she saw yesterday. He reminded you of someone, didn't he?"

The mention of it makes you snap. "Stop."

"Stop what?"

"Trying to act like you know anything about me."

"I know enough. You are easy to read."

So that feeling you get when he looks at you isn't just in your head; he truly can see through. Your nails dig into your palm. "There's no need to read me. We're not friends. We're just... allies, or whatever."

"Or whatever," he repeats thoughtfully, tasting the words. "You talk like a teenager."

"Compared to you I might as well be," you retort.

"Jesus." He chuffs out an exhale, eyes flickering down for a moment before returning up to yours, narrowing. "Let's not change the subject here." 

"Fine. Take this stupid Halloween mask off," you lift the hand on his chest up to the hem of his balaclava, feeling how weighted the fabric is with sweat. "And I will tell you all about it."

His jaw flexes before he gently guides your hand away. "Tempting offer, but I'll pass."

You refuse to acknowledge the tinge of embarrassment at his dismissal and inch back as far as the hand on your hair will allow. The close proximity, or harsh sun, is making it hard to breathe. "Well, it's not fair for you to ask me shit about my life when you don't even let me see your face."

"I never claimed to be fair." 

"I promise I won't vomit no matter how ugly you are. I've seen worse things out here."

His hand tightens. "I think I miss when you were scared of me. Less mouthy back then."

"Well, I'm not anymore."

"No?" He flips you around so your back is against him, one hand settling on the toned curve of your hip. His voice lowers to your ear. "Maybe I need to fix that."

An unwelcomed shiver courses through you. He lets go. A wristbone nudges against your spine, shoving you forward. Irritation simmers in your veins when his remark finally registers, and you whirl around, readying your stance. 

"If you even think about threatening me after I explicitly asked you not to, then I would suggest sleeping with a knife tonight."

"Who's threatening who, Twix?" He gives a low chuckle. "Relax. I'm sure I could handle you in my sleep, anyway."

He's egging you on; you know it. And yet, you stubbornly take the bait. His knee— the right one. That's where you got him last time that made him falter. Maybe an old injury. But when you swing a boot at it, he expects your attempt, knocking you away by the ankle. 

"Ah. Eager to get me beneath you again?"

Pink sears your cheeks as you wipe a trickle of sweat from your forehead. "I'm eager to humble you for once."

"Might need to keep your dinner down to do that."

You grit your teeth. So maybe he did allow it last time. The realization darts your eyes to his wide stance, searching for an idea. Without second-guessing yourself, you kick at the other knee. He must find your second attempt amusing because he easily predicts it, but before he can catch your leg, you snap it back and drop yourself to the ground.

The brief distraction allows the second of time needed to fit yourself between his legs. You're slim enough to push through, kicking at the inside of both knees once you're on the other side. His legs buckle, and you reach up to pull his arm, finishing the job.

Once he's down, you scramble to get on top, not caring if your boot kicks his face in the process. You grab both of his wrists and bring them above his head, but it's impossible to wrap your fingers all the way around them. Instead, you lace them through his fingers, breathing hard in his face as your breasts meld against the solid heat of him.

"Did you allow that?" 

His voice is rougher than you've ever heard it. "No."

Your lips furl. "Good."

A dark gleam passes through his dilated pupils that makes your head fuzzy. You let go of his hands. Immediately, they gravitate to your hips again, thumbs fiercely pressing into the sliver of skin exposed from where your shirt rides up. You don't move even an inch, frozen in place as you stare down at where he grips you against him. That feeling in your gut deepens and spreads. It is hard to pinpoint—so insane and foreign yet familiar at the same time—but one thing is certain: it begins and ends where his rough skin touches yours.

Before you can figure anything else out, a scream shatters the air, and Ghost rips you off of him in one swift movement. 

[gay-dorito-dust]

hey hey, was wondering if you could do a headcannon for jason and dick when their s/o is sick cause im sick as hell rn and need some comfort <3

I hope you get better anon and I also hope that this gives you something to chuckle at in the meantime.

Jason:

He’s like a mother hen when your sick and it wouldn’t been funny…had you not been sick and forcibly bed bound by him.

‘Jason.’ You groaned. ‘I’m dying.’

Jason looks at you blankly. ‘Hi dying I’m Jason, now take your god damn medicine.’

He takes your recovery more seriously and makes sure that you take your medicine on time when they were needed. And if you were to make things difficult for yourself, he will straddle you if needs be just for you to take medicine that you were upset wasn’t grape flavoured…

Will tuck the blankets right under your chin if you’re feeling cold and if you were still feeling cold, he’ll offer you one of his warmer hoodies to wear in hopes that they’d stop.

He honestly can’t either you sometimes but has to remember that he loves you and that he’d stick by you no matter what, even if you do act like an outraged child when sick.

God sake do not ask him to get you ice cream when you’re sick, he will forbade you from eating that crap. You’re meant to be getting better, not worse.

He even makes you a nice warm soup amongst other foods to help you during your recovery process also.

Jason may seem strict in his methods in taking care of you but he means well and will apologise if he thinks he’s been a bit too much of a dick by sitting bedside and holding your hand, kissing it every so often.

‘I’m sorry if it seems like I’m being harsh chipmunk, I’m only trying to help.’ He’d say.

‘If you’re being sorry for being a dick, then it’s only fair that I say sorry for acting so childish when you’re only trying to help. And I really appreciate you for everything you’ve done for me.’ You’d reply as you both let out a chuckle before you allowed Jason to take care of you without any complaints to be made.

You get better by the end of the week and Jason spoils you by letting you have all the ice cream you could dream of, but please for his sake don’t eat it too fast and get brain freeze.

Dick:

Will let you eat ice cream because how can he say no to your sad, sick face.

Even when sick Dick spoils the hell out of you.

Does not make the situation any better in all honesty.

He’ll probably take more offence that you were sick than yourself as he takes your temperature and tutting.

‘38°?’ Dick says as he looks down at the thermometer and muttering under his breath, ‘Not good.’

You only look at him blankly before sniffling as you cling to your plush frog, unamused. ‘I hate you.’

He’d might even get Hayley to help ‘heal’ you by just letter her be her cutest self and not currently crushing your legs, seeing as how she’s not a little blue pup anymore. she’s yours and Dick’s baby however and you didn’t care because seeing her try to nurse you back to health with her licking never failed to put a smile on your face.

‘Thank you sweetheart Im beginning to feel much better.’ You say as Hayley continued aggressively licking your arms, hands and face.

If you were to tell dick you were cold/still cold, his immediate response was the cuddle you but when you stop him to remind him that your sick, he only shrugs and probably boasts that he’s got great immunity before cuddling you. (Lies utter lies)

Let’s be honest he probably ends up getting sick after you start to recover and demands for you to repay him for taking care of you.

dick is okay at making food but might mutter ‘this isn’t the way it looked when Alfred made it’ under his breath while making you some simple soup before consulting Hayley, who only whimpers and shies away from it.

‘Take out it is then.’ He’d say and tries to take credit for it once it comes, but you see through the bullshit but we’re too sick to say anything about it.

[sunflower-lilac42]

✧ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞 || luke hughes ♔

summary: when she gets cold on the boat, luke gives her his hoodie and all the emotions come out.

warnings: reader feeling crappy about herself, negative thoughts

publish date: 03/31/24

notes: this is for my plus-sized girlies coming from a plus-sized girlie. i am here for you and i will give you as much content as you would like. this really healed my inner child fr, so i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i had writing it. i love you and give me three-eight business months for a next fic | add yourself to the taglist ➺ taglist!

nhl masterlist | main masterlist

A lot of the time it felt like that was the only feature people noticed about her. Not that she was funny, or smart, or insanely good at making a spreadsheet for anything and everything. It was the fact that she was fat, or excuse people’s language, curvy. It had been what labeled her for her whole life it seemed like. And no matter how hard she tried to stop it from happening, it never did. 

She heard the whispers every time she was in the hallways in high school, every time she sat down and the chair would creek even the slightest bit, every time she’d accidentally brush someone’s shoulder. It was horrible, something that would haunt her for years to come no matter what happened. 

When she went off to college, her voice was the only one that stayed with her. She met Luke through mutual friends and while she loved their relationship, she always thought it put a damper on her mind especially when she realized she liked him. Luke was Luke, he was tall, handsome, adorable, cute, charming, and all of the above. And on the inside, he was funny, smart, kind, nice, everything a girl could ever love. He made it impossible not to fall for him.

But why would Luke want her, when he could have anyone he ever wanted? This put a strain on their friendship during sophomore year especially. She would go to games, supporting the hell out of him because he asked her to be there. And always somewhere further down the row, in a different section, wherever, there was a group of girls who looked nothing like her. They were skinny, and pretty, they wore outfits that looked not only good on them but just good in general. 

They were standing there, looking like that, while she looked like this. Wearing leggings that were too tight to make her look thinner, they pressed too hard on her stomach. Wearing the largest sweatshirt in her closet to hide the way her hips bulge a little, to hide everything if she was honest. And while she knew it shouldn’t have bothered her, that she shouldn’t have been mad at them, she couldn’t help it.

However, when she was around him and it was just the two of them, she couldn’t help but notice the thoughts dissipate. There was something about him that made her forget what she was thinking, forget what she was feeling besides happiness. He made her feel beautiful even if he didn’t know it. 

But, when he went away to New Jersey, there was no one to block out those thoughts anymore. Every day she thought negative things about herself, and compared herself to her friends, to those she passed on the way to class, those in the dining hall, everyone. She was left feeling alone with her thoughts, which made her feel all the worse. 

In the weeks following her last day of class, she got a text from Luke. He had asked her to go to the lake house in Michigan. She wasn’t expecting it, to say the least. It meant that she would have to spend at least a week around Luke and his brothers and their friends in shorts and shirts. The things that made her uncomfortable when she was alone. 

She reluctantly agreed to his invitation and the only reason she did agree was because she knew Luke wouldn’t stop texting her and calling her until she said yes. She didn’t like summer, it meant that she couldn’t resort to her long sleeves and leggings due to the temperature. It was too hot for that. At least when she was at her own house, it wasn’t bad, she could do that and wouldn’t be hot due to her being able to set the house to a cooler temperature. 

But, Luke was Luke, and it was hard to ignore him. They hadn’t seen each other since he left for New Jersey, keeping up only through texts and FaceTime (which was not her favorite thing in the world). So, when that text came through that she had said yes to coming, he was bouncing off the walls for hours. He had run to tell Jack and Quinn, immediately, yelling at them to get a room set up for her and to make Trevor and Cole or whoever share one. 

It was rare that Luke got excited to see someone besides his brothers and his closest friends, so when Quinn and Jack heard him rambling a million miles an hour, they knew that this “friend” was special. Luke picked her up from the airport, having flown in from her home state. He was quick to bring her bags to the car for her, open up the passenger side door, and everything in between.

When he saw what she was wearing, he curled an eyebrow, “Aren’t you hot?”

“W-what? No.”

“Y/n/n, you’re wearing a literal sheep right now and it’s like 80 degrees.”

“I’ll have you know, I’m quite comfy.”

“Whatever you say.” He muttered but he made sure to turn the AC on full blast so she wouldn’t overheat more than she already was.

Y/n was trying to prolong the time she would have to be around Luke, and his brothers and their friends, in shorts and t-shirts and tank tops. And while she knew it was going to have to happen soon, it didn’t mean that it had to happen now. She was beyond grateful that Luke turned the AC on, it was a blessing in disguise. 

When they pulled up to the house, he wasted no time in doing the same things he did at the airport; grabbing her luggage, opening her door, and leading her up the steps. He opened the door with his elbow and pushed it open with his back, or well more or less his butt. Y/n giggled at the action and stepped inside after him, looking around in disbelief, “Can’t believe you get to spend every summer here.”

“Yeah, kind of lucky to have two-”

“Heads up!”

The two turned to see Jack hurling a football in their direction and Luke dropped her things to catch it. Due to Luke’s reaction time, he spared his best friend from getting hit in the face, “Dude!”

Y/n stood in shock, blinking even as Luke’s hand was taken away from her face. Jack winced, “Sorry.”

Luke threw it back at him and hit him square in the head, “Well, that’s Jack, which means…”

As he trailed off two more voices and two pairs of footsteps came from the hallway, “Cole and Trevor aren’t too far behind him. Blonde one is Cole, the douchey looking one is Trevor.”

“Douchey?”

She stood there in the entranceway, raising a hand as if to say hi. Trevor and Cole walked in and took her bags for her, “M’lady.”

She giggled again as she watched the two bumble around the house like idiots, all while Luke’s face heated up in embarrassment. When she looked at him she threaded her arm around his waist, “Don’t worry. I have my bunch of idiots back home. They don’t compare honestly.”

Luke’s arm wrapped around her shoulders in habit, slightly tightening as a way to ground himself. He looked over at her to see her still watching the three 22-year-olds, who were now dancing around the living room playing Just Dance. His eyes were filled with fondness, he couldn’t remember the last time or if there was ever a time he felt like this about someone. 

“You must be y/n! I’m Quinn, Luke’s oldest brother.”

Y/n smiled at him and Luke swore he could’ve died right there, “Nice to meet you, Quinn. Oh! I saw your guys’ last few games of the season, you guys played well.”

Quinn’s cheeks flushed, “Oh, thanks. Well, listen, your room is right next to Luke’s if you need anything. Anything in the kitchen you are more than welcome to have, we do have some things that if you want to cook you can. The bathroom is at the end of the hallway and the campfire is out back. I won’t tell, but I’m fine if you drink, just don’t do it outside the property or when our parents get here.”

She nods, trying to keep up with all the information he is spitting at her. He walked away and let the two be on their own, going back to his room. Luke picked back up her things and led her into the hallway and to her room. He placed her bags on the foot of the bed and looked back at her, “Well, I’ll let you get settled. I think we’re going out on the boat tonight.”

She didn’t think it would be this soon that she would have to wear them. Luke could see the panic that showed in her eyes for a brief moment, “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah. I'm just not a huge fan of the water.”

“Oh, that’s okay! You don’t have to go in it if you don’t want to.”

That sent some relief through her body, “Okay.”

“I’ll come back when we’re ready to go, okay?”

She nods and watches as he leaves, worried about what was to come.

✧༺✎༻∞

Two hours later, Luke came back into her room. He knocked before coming in, of course, looking down, “Hey we’re just about- holy shit.”

Y/n stood there in her ripped jean shorts that didn’t come down fully because she had gotten them last year, her oversized UMich hockey shirt that was beginning to fade from the number of times she’d put it through the wash. Her hair was in two braids with her UMich baseball hat on and her makeup was done in the slightest bit. She was wearing a pair of gym shoes, her trusted ones that she’s had since she started college. When she heard Luke’s voice and then it cut off, she shied away, wrapping her arms around her waist.

“What?”

“Nothing, you just look-”

Here it comes. The fat jokes, the “you should get clothes that actually fit you” monologue, the snide remarks about her working out, and everything in between. But what hurt more, was that it was going to come from Luke, her best friend, her crush, her seemingly everything. The one who made her forget about those things.

“Really pretty.”

Her head snapped up and her eyes opened wide, “I- what?”

Luke’s face flushed, “You look pretty. Um, we’re getting ready to go! You ready?”

“Oh, uh yeah.”

“Did he really just call me pretty?” Her thoughts ran a thousand miles an hour as she grabbed her bag from the bed and followed Luke. There was no way he said that, was she imagining things? What had she eaten for lunch? 

Luke helped her onto the boat, holding her hand as she stepped up. She sat down and immediately pulled out her computer, connecting it to her portable hotspot. The boys watched her both in confusion and in awe, but Jack was the only one to speak up, “Why are you on your laptop? Dude, you’re gonna get it wet.”

“I just have to do something quick.”

Jack watched from beside her as she pulled up her spreadsheets and started typing information in it, “Holy shit,”

That was the second one of the day, and both of them had been directed at her, “What now?”

“Dude, these are insane.”

He stole the laptop and started scrolling. Now she felt ten times more embarrassed than she was before, “It’s nothing.”

Luke was the next to steal the computer, sitting in awe at the payrolls among other stuff she created, “Damn girl. How much free time do you have?”

She toyed with the ends of her shorts, starting to fray, “A lot.”

She was glad once they moved on from the topic and she was able to shove her computer back in her bag after updating a few things. She watched as the boys went out on the water, Luke staying with her, claiming that he didn’t want to go in the water either. However, as time went on it got colder and colder, yet none of them wanted to go back.

It was now nighttime and y/n was cold from the drastic temperature change. Luke watched as she shivered and instantly took off his sweatshirt and handed it to her, “Here.”

Her eyes looked between him and his hoodie before shaking her head, “I’m okay.”

His eyes softened, growing increasingly worried and confused, “Y/n/n you have goosebumps all along your arms. You’re not ‘okay’.”

“No, I promise. I’m okay.”

“Please.”

She hesitantly took it and unfolded it to hold it up and look at the size. This had always been a worry for her, fitting into other people’s clothes especially when it came to boys. Sure they were ‘bigger’ than her, height was and all, but was that enough to counteract? She nervously put her arms through it, being careful not to stretch it out. She pulled it over her head and was pleasantly surprised when it fit a little baggy on her. 

However, her mind clouded with negative thoughts and it started yelling at her that she was the one that stretched it out, that that was the reason why it was baggy. She looked up at him with tears in her eyes, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Hey, it’s okay. You can tell me.”

She tugged slightly on the hoodie, feeling it start to cling to her impossibly tight. It wasn’t the hoodie, it was her mind making her think that it was smaller than it was. She tried to get out of Luke’s gaze but it was no use. She cursed to herself before looking out at the water, watching the boys splash each other like immature 10-year-olds, “I’ve never been the skinniest girl out there, Luke.”

Her words caused him to frown. ‘Is that seriously what she’s worried about?’ He brought his right hand up to her face, placing her chin in between his index finger and his thumb. He turned her head so her eyes had no choice but to look at him, “You listen to me. You are beautiful, okay? You are the prettiest girl I have ever laid eyes on.”

She moved her head away from his grasp and wrapped her arms in front of her stomach. Luke was determined to convince her that he wanted her. That she was the only one for him, so despite her worries and insecurities, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into his lap. She yelped in surprise and as soon as her butt touched his legs and squirmed, “Let me go, Luke.”

“No.” His voice was stern as he spoke. 

“Please, Lu.” 

“I’m sorry but I don’t think I can. Not when you are talking about yourself like this, out loud or in that beautiful head of yours. Listen, y/n/n, I know it’s hard, believe me. And while I might not know exactly what you’re going through, I have had my fair share of insecurities myself. You are gorgeous and I love every single part of you there is, okay? I cannot tell you one moment that I have seen you look ugly.”

Completely brushing over the fact that he said ‘I love’, she continued trying to prove him wrong, “What about that-”

“Nope! Doesn’t exist. And I’m going to tell you that if you do not come to at least one game of mine next season, wearing my jersey I might lose it.”

Luke’s words had her blushing in an instant but her mind did not want happiness to be a thing tonight. Her thoughts of this being a prank clouded the intense blissfulness she felt for a few seconds, “Why?”

“Why what, sweet girl?”

The nickname passed over her, “Me. Why me?”

“I’m going to tell you my favorite moment of you and then we’ll see if you know why,” He removed one of his arms from her waist to wrap his fingers around the back of her neck and rub his thumb against her cheek before continuing, “Freshman year. First game you ever went to. I had just bought you a jersey and wrote on the back of it with a sharpie my name and my number. It wasn’t the prettiest thing in the world, obviously because that’s you, but it made sure everyone knew you were supporting me. You wore it with those jeans that I like, the ones with the rhinestones bordering the pockets, and you wore these gym shoes, the ones you’re wearing right now. You had your hair in two ponytails and this hat,” He flicked the brim of it, “and you brought two of your other friends for whom the life of me I cannot remember.

“But you stood for the whole game with this little pompom thing in your hand, cheering every time someone got a goal and booing every time whoever we were playing got one. And then after the game I met you outside and then we went to go get ice cream and you got vanilla with sprinkles and we tasted each other’s because I kept looking over at yours and you finally gave in. And then I took you back to your dorm and you stole my beanie. Which you didn’t give back for another two weeks.”

Her eyes watered as she listened to him, “Y/n/n. Don’t cry, please.”

She shook her head, “I’m not, I promise.”

“No matter how long it takes, what it takes, I am going to prove to you that you are beautiful no matter what anyone says. And as long as you love yourself, that’s all that matters. But you’ll always have my love, okay?”

“You love me?”

“Of course I do! I know we’re in college, or well, you are, and we haven’t really dated, but when you know you know.”

She smiled at him and closed her eyes when his lips made contact with her forehead, and then her cheek, “Can I kiss you?”

She nodded and leaned in to meet him halfway. Once their lips connected they heard ‘whoops’ from the water. They pulled away, both red in the face. And as they drove back, y/n sat next to Luke with her head on his shoulder and his hand resting comfortably on her thigh.

𝑵𝑬𝑾 𝑱𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬𝒀 𝑫𝑬𝑽𝑰𝑳𝑺 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

@jasminecaskry85 | @lilyevanswhore | @shoesjr13 | @Exonct07 | @dancerbailey3 | @if-my-heart-bleeds | @prettyinsatiable | @hearts-4-luke | @sarawinson78 | @pucks-goals-penalties | @elegieseulogise | @crazycat-ladys-blog | @privatemythss | @5secondsofonedirection222 | @piavettel33 | @bohemianrapshawty | @mikayladavis | @klkennedy | @hockeyboysarehot | @whoopwhoop123 | @dasiysthings | @rleigh-47 | @ivy-34 | @itsnotgray |

@daisysnhl | @love4ldr | @love4lando | @dyslecticdutchman | @thescooby-gang | @hischier-papaya | @toasttt11 | @fratboyharrysgf0201 | @http-aatp | @biggiesmallspots | @kei943 | @Studio_reader | @ru-kru | @zebraszegras | @sleepybesson | @lausdigitaldiary | @eleutherafairy | @hockeygirl101 | @fearfam69691 | @skoolnites | @bunting58 | @francesfarhadi | @fallinallincurls | @valluvsu | @cixrosie | @absolutelyhugh3s | @livelovefanfics | @love-like-woaah

@aya.p4paya | @voidvannie | @leighigh | @devilsandpensfan | @bunbunblogsblog | @rachran18 | @cinderellacauseshebroke | @slutforseider | @books-hlmc | @landoslover | @nonsensical-nonsense | @alwaysclassyeagle

[targaryenluvs]

— 𓆩♡𓆪 YOU LOOK SO PRETTY

pairings; luke castellan x fem!reader

summary; luke’s insecurities over his newly obtained scar mean absolutely nothing to you.

warnings; none, fluff, kisses, self-doubt & insecurities

if there was one thing luke hated the idea of, it was scaring you. and the hideous scar across his cheek seemed to strike fear in his heart at the thought of you seeing it.

he liked you a lot, having gotten used to you. your presence floated around him, giving him a reason to get up in the morning. it was uncommon to see luke without his other half, you. the pair of you were practically parents half of the time, keeping his as well as your own cabin in check, both being counsellors. and you were his second home, a sanctuary against the world, with inviting arms and a warm smile.

but how on earth, and olympus would you look his way again?

you’d been worried sick. whispers of luke’s injury had made their way to your ears, but you were stuck on clean up duty after a few kids had decided to have a party in the woods, right under your nose. by the time you’d made it to luke, it was nighttime. your favourite spot was in the woods, a clearing overlooking the camp. you’d promised to meet eachother there when you needed to talk, and this seemed like an important time.

“luke?” you cautiously approached, hands dug into his hoodie you were wearing. he’d been preparing himself the whole day, for your disgust and refusal of him, but instead he was met with teary eyes and soft hands. “oh luke, it doesn’t hurt too much, does it?”

he was taken aback by your gentle tone, but he’d take it over sadness any day, “not too much, i don’t think it’ll be too big of a deal once fully healed. just a scar.” your eyes were teary as you listened attentively, “i’m just glad you’re okay.” he smiled, “it doesn’t scare you?” the kiss on his lips was everything he’d been waiting for, “never, you could never scare me luke castellan. i think it makes you look strong, you look so pretty, pretty like the sun.”

he grinned as he brought himself closer to you again, soft kisses planted all over you face as you giggled, “it tickles! stop!” eventually he relented, settling for the two of you laying down and staring up at the sky. you listened for hours as luke attempted to woo you with facts and constellations, he admired their beauty as you adored his.

“they’ve got nothing on you castellan.”

[jadedvibes]

Marked

Summary: Your secret relationship is nearly exposed when Natasha spots Bucky's neck covered in hickeys.

Pairing: Beefy!Bucky x reader

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, unprotected rough sex, lots of hickeys, swearing, pet names, fluffy feels, very minor angst, protective natasha, avengers tower au, beefy!bucky (he needs a warning).

Word Count: 1.3k

Like, comment, and/or reblog to put a giant smile on my face ♡

“Hey babe, I’m really sorry,” Nat sat down beside you on the couch, looking at you with a sad smile. 

You furrowed your brows, trying to process her words. What did she have to be sorry for?

“Um, why?” 

“Because of you-know-who,” she subtly nodded her head towards Bucky chatting with Sam in the kitchen. He was laughing at something Sam had said, and despite the fact that he was wearing a hoodie, the hickeys on his neck were still visible. She knew you couldn’t miss those prominent love bites. 

Nat was well aware of the giant crush you had on the dark-haired supersoldier, and she also thought that those feelings were requited. Bucky had seemed entirely enamored by you ever since you joined the team. She couldn’t believe he would do that, especially because everyone including him knew how you felt. You must have felt terrible about the whole situation.

“Oh,” biting your lip, you willed yourself not to react. Nat could read you like a book and you didn’t want her to know about the sordid details of this chapter. Not yet at least. “He’s a grown up, and he can do whatever he wants,” you stood up in haste, giving her a nod before walking back to your room. 

She missed the wink Bucky shot you, and the way you smiled at the ground as you left. 

Bucky assured you that the marks would heal fast, giving you free rein to do whatever you wanted to him. Unfortunately, it wasn’t fast enough. 

“What the hell?” Nat muttered under her breath. She figured his actions must have hurt you so much that you couldn’t even properly react to it. Deciding to confront the man himself, she stormed into the kitchen, pulling out a chair and sitting next to Sam. 

She glared at Bucky as he finished up his story, catching the eyes of both men. Sam exchanged a look with Bucky, neither having any idea why she was staring like that. 

Bucky grinned at Nat cautiously, “What’s up?” 

“She was literally in the room, and you couldn’t think to maybe pull your hood on, or wear a scarf?”

“Nat,” he tried to think of an explanation, but the truth wasn’t his to tell. You asked him not to. “It’s no big deal,” he lied. 

His time with you was everything, and he couldn’t fight the flashback his brain had of you in his lap the night before sucking and biting his neck as you rode him. If only Nat could see the state of your chest and the marks that you had thanks to him, she’d know there were no hurt feelings. 

Sam watched on, trying to keep his face neutral because he already knew about the two of you. He’d seen Bucky slip out of your room a few mornings ago, however he respected your privacy and kept your secret. Although, he had no problem teasing Bucky about it when you weren’t around. 

“Live your life, but you could be more respectful of her feelings,” she said before standing up and leaving. 

Bucky pursed his lips as he looked at Sam. 

“Should’ve covered it up, man,” Sam smirked. 

Nodding his head, “Yeah, for her sake.”

“What are you guys waiting for?” 

He shrugged his shoulders, “I’m letting her set the pace, it’s up to her.” 

┈┈┈┈┈・・

“Fuck, Bucky,” you cried out as his powerful hips snapped into you at a relentless pace. The sheer look of pleasure and determination on his face made you shudder as you watched him take you apart. Your legs wrapped around his waist, an impulse for more; to be closer, to be consumed. 

Metal fingers began to circle your clit, making your body contract beneath him. 

“Oh baby,” you whimpered. He fucked you like a god, a self-assured divine being. 

Bucky smirked, “Do you like that?” His fingers continued their sweet torture as he took what he needed. With each fierce thrust he brought you closer, to your end, to his soul. 

Unable to speak, you watched your perfect man lose himself inside of you. 

It hit like lightning striking your body, electrifying every nerve with blissful euphoria. You threw your head back as you heard your pulse ring in your ears, wet walls squeezing tight around his cock. 

Unable to think, simply feeling the sensory overload. 

He groaned out your name as his hips stuttered erratically. Pushing impossibly deeper, he came hard. Shuddering his release, pumping himself empty inside his favorite place. 

Collapsing on top of you, he kissed you softly before turning you on your side as he stayed nestled inside of you. 

Dark blue eyes connected with yours, his thumb dusting over your bottom lip. 

Tangling your hands into his hair, you pulled him closer, pressing your lips to his. Tongue sliding between his parted lips, chest pressed against his, close. 

This was where you were supposed to be. 

Bucky pulled back and playfully started peppering your face with kisses. Down your jawline, all over your cheeks, on your nose, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling. 

“Bucky!” you tried to grab his face. But he wouldn’t relent, gripping the back of your neck, kissing you until you were squealing in laughter. 

He loved that sound, he adored seeing you so happy. How Nat could ever think that he’d go for any other girl was not something he could comprehend. Bucky only had eyes for you. 

“Doll,” he kissed your lips before letting you catch your breath. He couldn’t wait any longer, he had to know. “What are we doing?” 

“What do you mean?” you whispered. 

“Why are we hiding this?” 

You sighed. “Because I want this to be our thing for a while longer, we’re having fun aren’t we?” you grinned, not understanding his concern. 

“Of course we are, but… this is more than just fun for me,” his eyes searched yours. 

Oh this sweet, soft man. 

“Then we’ll tell the team, we can tell anyone you want.” 

“Really?” he beamed. 

“Yes, really. It’s more for me too, I don’t want you to think for a moment that it isn’t. I didn’t want anyone casting doubts on us – but I’m sure about you, so it’s okay.” 

“Thank you, I can only take so much mad-dogging from Nat,” he breathed a sigh of relief. Although, his true solace came from the knowledge that the feeling in his heart was reciprocated – he was damn well certain about you too. 

“Right, because that’s your thing, isn’t it tough guy?” you teased. His penchant for staring often intimidated others, but you knew the kind-hearted man under the hard exterior. 

Bucky narrowed his eyes, rolling you on top of him in one swift movement. His hardened length still inside of you told you that the time for talking had ended. Your hands fell onto his strong, broad chest as you held yourself up, ready to take him for a ride. 

His fiery gaze landed on your breasts, the heat from his stare capable of scorching the earth. He ran his warm fingers over the fading marks he’d left from the night before, admiring them. 

Desire flooded your body and when your eyes locked, an idea came to your mind. “Why don’t you bite my neck?” you raised an eyebrow. 

He sat up, the offer one he wasn’t willing to pass. Bucky trailed his lips along your jaw, nibbling his way down until he whispered, “Only if you promise to bite me back,” he licked up your neck. 

With a racing heart, you circled your hips before grinding down on him. “Deal.” 

There was no point in concealing this connection that meant so much to the both of you. And as his teeth bit down on your skin, a rush of arousal ran through you. The sting of his possession, the way he felt so deep inside you; this was it.

The two of you would likely tell your friends the following day about your relationship – or they could just take a look at the matching marks on your necks that let them know exactly who you belonged to. 

[kpophubb]

♥︎ วυηցωση'ѕ вσуƒяιєηԃ нαвιтѕ ♡

❥ Hot and cute things yang jungwon does as your bf !

♥︎🄶🄴🄽🅁🄴: 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝗁𝖼 ᰔ !w: 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗒 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌! // 𝗠𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

"𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥, 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥. 𝘊𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘪𝘳𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 3000" ♡

✼••┈┈┈┈••✼♡✼••┈┈┈┈••✼♥︎✼••┈┈┈┈••✼

☆ 𝗟𝗘𝗔𝗩𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗗𝗜𝗘𝗦 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗧𝗢 𝗪𝗘𝗔𝗥- there’s no time in the world jungwon finds you more beautiful than when you’re wearing his hoodies. The sight of his oversized cloth dangling from your shoulders and covering upto your thighs never fails to make the butterflies in his stomach run wild and his heart beat abnormally against his ribcage, threatening to escape. When you pair the outfit with a messy bun and remain bare faced, jungwon blushes so much and finds you to be the most beautiful girl on earth. He gets domestic thoughts- of being able to live together with you so you could wear more of his clothes and he could see this heavenly sight daily but ofcourse he will keep it low-key. He smiles so brightly and his cheeks become rosy, and he secretly makes it his mission to leave more of his hoodies “accidentally” at your place, in the hopes of catching this breath taking sight of you in his clothes sometime again.

☆ 𝗙𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗔𝗦𝗟𝗘𝗘𝗣 𝗢𝗡 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗟𝗔𝗣- resting his head softly on your lap, jungwon unintentionally dozes off a lot from tiredness of the long day. He doesn’t always mean to fall asleep, but the comforting feeling of your thighs under his head makes him feel really relaxed. The sight of his angel face resting on your lap always makes you melt, and leaves you brushing his soft hair with your fingers and occasionally pecking his handsome face. You kiss his forehead, his nose and his cheek in his sleep, hoping he would meet you in his dreams and feel your overbearing love for him. <3 most times, he falls asleep while subconsciously holding your hands inside his that make him feel so secure and safe.

☆ 𝗔𝗦𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗚𝗢𝗢𝗗𝗕𝗬𝗘/𝗚𝗢𝗢𝗗𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗘𝗦 𝗙𝗥𝗢𝗠 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗦𝗜𝗟𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗟𝗬- jungwon feels way too bashful to ask for kisses from you but at the same time he doesn’t wanna leave for work or go to sleep without getting goodnight/goodbye kisses from you. Thus, he will always make silent attempts- tugging at your sleeve softly and looking at you with innocent and needy kitty eyes to pass his message. He makes “🥺” face and even takes your hand and places it in his cheek or lips, as a sign that he wants his kissy there. And when he’s too cute like this? There’s no chance of resisting him so you end up giving him many kisses at once. That too, over his whole entire face that causes him to retreat under the blanket from overflowing shyness.

☆ 𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗛𝗨𝗚𝗦 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗕𝗨𝗥𝗬𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗙𝗔𝗖𝗘 𝗜𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗖𝗥𝗢𝗢𝗞 𝗢𝗙 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗡𝗘𝗖𝗞- jungwon and backhugs go hand in hand. He freezes when he’s trying to hug you from the front bc the moment your eyes lock, he loses his mind. So, from the back when you’re unaware, he walks into the room silently and drapes his arms around your stomach and rests his chin on your shoulder. He loves to bury his face in the crook of your neck and just breathe your scent in- because it’s so comforting to him to just feel your presence and bask in it. No matter what he’s feeling, being close to your body and nuzzling in your embrace heals him from within.

☆ 𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 𝗢𝗙 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗛𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗦- kissing your hand has become his reflex action. The reflex action to loving you if that makes sense. It doesn’t matter even if he’s scrolling through his phone or watching a movie, one of his hands will be interlaced within yours and he will play with your hands and bring it close to his lips to kiss it. Sometimes, he’s so adorable that he does it when he’s half asleep. His sleep gets disrupted and with half lidded eyes, he will search for your hands and kiss the back or knuckles softly before falling back asleep again. <3 :’)

☆ 𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗧𝗪𝗜𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗛𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗦 𝗦𝗨𝗕𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗖𝗜𝗢𝗨𝗦𝗟𝗬-jungwon loves the pure act of holding your hands sm that he will even have your hands intertwined in public. Or infront of the boys but once he realizes what he’s doing and earns teasing glares, he will jolt and move away from you in a flash. 😳 he gets blushy and scratches the back of his neck awkwardly but when you’re in private again, he will take your hands back inside his. When you’re cooking In the kitchen or doing your assignment or studying, it does not help your situation cause you will always find one of your hands inside his. He finds this act really innocent and it connects you two close together always so he prefers that 24/7.

☆ 𝗕𝗨𝗬𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗜𝗖𝗘 𝗖𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗠 𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘 𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗧𝗨𝗔𝗟- are you even dating yang jungwon if y’all don’t get ice cream EVERY WEEK? He loves ice cream, you love ice cream and y’all love eachother so it’s a ritual in your relationship. Like little kids running behind ice cream trucks from excitement, you and boyfriend run after ice cream stalls and eat them all the way back to your home while linking arms! <33 it’s your comfort food and lightens your moods all the time.

☆ 𝗦𝗟𝗘𝗘𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗙𝗔𝗖𝗘 𝗕𝗨𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗗 𝗢𝗡 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗦𝗧- jungwon might be someone who’s not very clingy or cheesy romantic and he’s very kinda against pda, but behind closed doors the scenario is totally different. HE IS YOUR BABY. >.< a smol babie who loves to be held, to be kissed, to be showered with love and praises. He’s obviously not gonna admit it, but he loves affection. Thus, all the time you find him laying his head on your chest and his hands and legs wrapped around you tightly. He’s very playful sometimes and tickles your neckline with his hair and..even kisses there intimately 😳 to make you go i n s a n e. He’s so smug everytime he can make you blush, istg. 😏♡

☆ 𝗣𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗣𝗔𝗖𝗞 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗬𝗢𝗨- jungwon is very considerate, caring, responsible and is always trying to help you and take care of you in one way or another. So, he will definitely pack your bag for you that be for college or for work and leave all your essentials there carefully. He’s also gonna sneak in some of your favourite snack bars in case you need them to make you smile and lend you some energy! <3

☆ 𝗔𝗦𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗜𝗙 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗛𝗔𝗩𝗘 𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗡 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗠𝗘𝗔𝗟𝗦- he is the one who is always checking up on you and makes sure you remain healthy. So no matter how busy he is, he’s gonna sneak in a text or a call just to ask you if you’ve eaten your meals yet or not. He’s such a sweetheart, you have no idea. :’)

☆ 𝗖𝗢𝗭𝗬 𝗠𝗢𝗩𝗜𝗘 𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 𝗗𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗦- jungwon LOVES watching movies and drama and when that is paired with the love of his life, it’s like a dream come true for him. He snuggles you like his personal plushie on the couch, and with a bag of snacks he sits down to watch movies with you for hours. He’s gonna be so excited about these favourite moments together that he might even feed you and shower you with kisses that’s so unlike himself. Babyboy is awfully giggly and happy the whole time. Don’t even move please, just remain there inside his arms and be his partner!! >.< <3

☆ 𝗡𝗘𝗖𝗞 𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗘𝗦 & 𝗧𝗜𝗖𝗞𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗡𝗘𝗖𝗞 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗦𝗘- jungwon is low-key obsessed with kissing your neck. That be just soft innocent pecks or steamy kisses in your most sensitive areas, anything works for him. 🫣 he loves to trace his wet lips along your collarbones and let his mouth linger on your skin a little longer than needed to make you shiver from his action. When he’s feeling himself, he likes to suck areas around your neck and let his kiss deepen and linger on your flesh but all of his kisses usually end with him laughing and tickling your neck with his nose. He’s a mischievous little brat so his romantic side only lasts about 5 seconds lol. But those 5 seconds are enough to burn you to ashes with temptation and greed. 🫦

☆ 𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗛𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗦 𝗔𝗥𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗗 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗟𝗢𝗪𝗘𝗥 𝗪𝗔𝗜𝗦𝗧- this is one of his hottest habits I swear. Draping his arms around your lower waist tightly and gripping your hips to bring you close to his face and kiss you. He moves his hands around your waist so seductively, in such a possessive and romantic manner that the gesture leaves you breathless and panting for extra air in your lungs. 😳

☆ 𝗘𝗬𝗘 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗦- you know the kind of gaze that burns through the layers of your skin and burns you alive? That’s the kind of intimate and intimidating gaze jungwon has. It’s like his beautiful eyes can speak to you, they deliver to you all the love confessions his heart has for you but his mouth doesn’t speak. His eyes also deliver for you his want and desperation, his longing to hold you close and dear to him all the time. Eyes are windows to the soul, and you know exactly what you mean to him the moment you look inside those starry eyes.

☆ 𝗕𝗥𝗨𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗟𝗜𝗣𝗦 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗨𝗠𝗕- yang jungwon loves to tempt you. Loves to see you make a move or initiate any kind of skinship. But even more so, he loves your lips so much. He finds them so plush and pretty and most times, he can’t avert his eyes from your mouth. That’s why he strokes them in gentle motions with his thumb from blind awe and admiration. His breaths become paced and eyes become hazy, and he’s leaning in closer to your face and just taking in your beauty till it fills up every cell inside him.

☆ 𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗖𝗢𝗥𝗡𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗟𝗜𝗣𝗦 𝗧𝗢 𝗧𝗘𝗠𝗣𝗧 𝗬𝗢𝗨- it boosts jungwon’s pride sm when you express first hand how much you crave for him, especially when it’s his kisses you’re whining for. He will kiss you along the sides of your mouth but never on your lips directly, just to watch you frown displeasingly and pull his collar and kiss him of your own accord. He finds it super cute and just liquifies right then and there. The type to start giggling in between the kisses when that happens! 🤭

☆ 𝗚𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗔𝗧 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗙𝗥𝗢𝗠 𝗔𝗖𝗥𝗢𝗦𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗢𝗢𝗠- since he’s someone who doesn’t get touchy with you, he stares at you like a lovesick person whenever you’re in one place. He smiles at you, but most of all looks at you like a person who’s struck by your beauty like lightning. Wide eyes, rosy cheeks, and mouth agape.

☆ 𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗘𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗦 𝗧𝗢𝗚𝗘𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥- jungwon loves cupping your face with both his hands and press your foreheads together lovingly. He closes his eyes and just lets your breaths intertwine. It’s such a soothing and pure act that it leaves your heart fluttering for decades.

☆ 𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗪𝗥𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗦 𝗔𝗚𝗔𝗜𝗡𝗦𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗪𝗔𝗟𝗟- jungwon and his hot romantic boyfriend agenda. He loves pinning your wrists against the wall or whatever surface is behind you to kiss you deeply and pass over his silent dominance over you. You belong to him and him alone, and his actions prove that in every way. The way he wraps his fingers around your wrists make you feel weak in the knees. When you guys argue over something, he does this too, just randomly pushes you against the wall and brings his face closer to yours and goes like “yeah now continue.” cause he KNOWS what heart-damaging effect he has on you.

☆ 𝗟𝗘𝗔𝗩𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗦- you’re bound to find tiny love notes folded inside your bag, inside your phone case and sticky notes stuck to your bedside lamps. Jungwon finds it hard to verbally say it out loud what you mean to him so he writes small love notes to give you reminders about his love. Mind you, they won’t be really cheesy and the loving words would mostly be scribbled lmao bc he cringes hard (yeah very yang jungwon style of affection haha)

☆ 𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗗𝗘𝗥- jungwon’s most intimate type of kisses are the ones he plants on your bare shoulder. He loves to kiss the place beside your collarbone so much that he might even pull down the material of your sweatshirt or top just to land a soft kiss with his plush lips. He’s always tugging your tank top straps and pulling them down momentarily to kiss the sweet spot and even brushes his nose against your sensitive skin only to shower the place with kisses again. He finds it oddly comforting and will always reach out to kiss that place on your shoulder first. His mouth lingers on that place way more than needed, his soft lips tracing up and down to every inch and cranny.

☆ 𝗕𝗟𝗢𝗪𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗢 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗘𝗔𝗥- he loves blowing into your ear to catch you off guard and tease you. You will be studying or doing a chore and he will show up outta nowhere and blow inside your ear and laugh at the way you get goosebumps. He is laughing and running around the house now, with you chasing him for revenge!!

☆ 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗜𝗡 𝗕𝗘𝗧𝗪𝗘𝗘𝗡 𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗟𝗘𝗚𝗦- yang jungwon and his ocassional clingy era 😮‍💨 he is NOT a clingy person but when he is, he doesn’t even let you MOVE because he has his legs wrapped around you, holding you tightly in place with him. You wanna go grab your charger? No. You wanna get up to drink water? NO. I mean nothing you do can make him remove himself from you, he’s attached and glued to you 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 and nuzzling inside your warmth like a lil baby kitty, so what can you even do now except for let him cling to your body? >~<

☆ 𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗔𝗠𝗬 𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗘𝗦- this is what totally happens when he comes back home from a long tour around and has missed you like crazy. Your once in a blue moon opportunity, with intense, heating kisses of his sheer dominance and needy love. Your wrists pinned above your head, his body pressed to yours tightly and his mouth totally inside yours. His lips burning with fierce passion and his tongue darting over your lips and inside your mouth, making you feel weak in the knees and unable to maintain your posture. That’s the kind of kisses he ends up giving you sometimes, the ones that leave you panting for air, begging for more. Where only yang jungwon and yang jungwon alone exists in your world and everything else completely wipes out.

☆ 𝗕𝗨𝗬𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗖𝗢𝗟𝗢𝗥-𝗖𝗢 𝗢𝗥𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗗 𝗖𝗟𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗦- jungwon will definitely buy colour co-ordinated clothes with you. Especially the colours baby blue and beige. He would love to go out with you wearing similar coloured fits and have the feels of a romantic couple. He smiles so much at you and stares at you more than usual and just blushes blushes and blushes everytime he looks at you two in the mirror. Will go out of his way to even compliment you a lot.

☆ 𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗢𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗛𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗦 𝗨𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗡𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗛 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗖𝗟𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗦- mhmm so this. I feel like he’s gonna develop a habit of sneaking in his hands underneath the material of your clothes just to caress your bare flesh with his palms and fingers, especially your tummy and waist areas and your thighs. He loves the feel of your exposed, raw skin underneath his touch, the warmth of your body seeping inside him with every stroke. He’s gonna even sleep with his hands placed securely around your tummy for a good night’s sleep and even sweeter dreams. 🤭

☆ 𝗕𝗘𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗣𝗢𝗦𝗦𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗩𝗘 𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗬𝗢𝗨- is he even yang jealous jungwon if he isn’t possessive over you?😏 oh pls he gets so low-key jealous everytime you’re mingling with anyone more than needed. Cause this boy is already frowning and glaring at them displeasingly and trying his best to come up with an excuse to steal you from them. Will deny being jealous if you confront him and kiss you to shut you up huh. 💋

☆ 𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗜𝗡 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗦𝗟𝗘𝗘𝗣- this is 100% his thing. It goes without saying that he’s bashful to initiate kisses with you, so when you’re asleep he can do that with ease. He’s totally the type of boyfriend who loves to lay down beside you and just admire your beautiful resting face and fall in love with you more during the process. Tucking the loose strands of your hair behind your ear and brushing your cheeks and jaw with his fingers before placing a gentle kiss everywhere on your face including your eyelids. When you’re deep in your sleep, he even whispers I love yous in your ear out of overbearing love. 🤍

☆ 𝗖𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗡𝗢𝗢𝗡𝗔 𝗙𝗟𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗜𝗟𝗬 (If you’re older than him)- this is completely self explanatory for me, but if you’re older than him and y’all dating, he would love to flirtily address you as “noona” in his raspy voice to make you blush and stutter. Especially if he knows how much you love him calling you that. This brat does it right in your ear with an intentional low voice to send chills down your spine. 😳

✼••┈┈┈┈••✼♡✼••┈┈┈┈••✼♥︎✼••┈┈┈┈••✼

🄰/🄽: 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒'𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗃𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗐𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖿! ^_^ 𝖽𝗈 𝗿𝗲𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗴 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗱𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀/𝘁𝗮𝗴𝘀/ 𝗮𝘀𝗸𝘀 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 :)

Tagging : @boowoowho @wonieweb @miraculouspabu @unh0ly-dr3am3r @yjjungwon my jungwon ladies! <3

@miyoung07 @kpoproyal @cloudcutter

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . NAGI SEISHIRO ; — nagi usually carries his team but he’s a little distracted today.

warnings: f!reader, you suck him off while he games, he wears a headset, all characters written 22+ note: first post of nagi week for his bday! let’s go! <;3

nagi! are you even paying attention? new squad on your six!

“eh, ‘ts fine. cover me, i just—ah, gotta heal.”

you can hear the faint shout of nagi’s teammates from his headset, followed by a few shots and hurried footsteps as his fingers work at his keyboard and mouse. his messy mop of snowy hair is unruly and it’s dark in the room despite the way the monitor illuminates him, flushed cheeks and heavy breathes — blame it on the adrenaline, right?

he was good at this game — fps were his strength, normally carrying his team for the most part but he doesn’t know if he’s got worse or if it’s down to the way his pretty girlfriend is resting between his spread thighs right now, blinking up at him with a pretty look as your lips wrap around the head of his cock to suckle lightly on the sensitive tip.

nagi can barely focus on anything except the way you feel around him, finding himself trying to steal glances at you underneath his desk between reloads. he’s desperate and needy, wanting nothing more than to grind his hips up into the sweet hug of your throat as your hand strokes along the remaining length of him that won’t quite fit.

“ah—‘m g’nna die.” he’s missing shots and taking hits, it’s out of character and it’s obvious in the way the rest of the team are teasing him for it — making him murmur and grumble under his breath despite the way they break into something pretty when you swallow around him. “no fair.”

but the idea of people hearing him, hearing how breathy nagi’s exhales sound between the little whimpers that he lets slip from his lips only seems to urge you to hear more as you smear messy kisses along his cock. his teeth grit as his head rolls back against his seat, thick thighs spreading wider almost by instinct to allow you to push yourself deeper as his fingers flex around his mouse — earning a whine from the snowy haired striker above you as the heavy weight of him thickens and throbs with the stretch of your lips around him once more.

“fu-uck.. this maps so bothersome, just not used to it yet.” you swallow, gagging around his length before you pull back again momentarily and he feels like he can barely breathe as his lidded gaze scans his map — wanting nothing more than to take in the way he can feel your wide eyes on him.

“again. can gimme more.” nagi’s command is breathless and low, it’s spoken into his mic like it’s directed at his team but you know it’s meant for you when he sends you quick blown out and heavy look.

his broad chest heaves behind the tight fitted hug of his shirt — he’d been too warm underneath his hoodie that now pools at his hips and you’ve never been more grateful when the monitor illuminates the way the cotton hugs his physique. you guide your head back down— taking a sharp breath as a tear trails down your cheek when his cock pushes back against your airways, relishing the dizzy spin of the room and the long, muffled whine it pulls from your boyfriend over you as he squints at the screen.

nagi! cover!

“sorry. lag it’s.. ‘s so bothersome.” another call sounds just as you swallow around him, choking and gagging around nagi’s thick length before his pretty abomden flexes. his thighs follow suit when his heavy cock twitches on your tongue and you hear him hiss with the next few clouded shots before you begin your wet withdrawal.

you pull off momentarily, your eyes fluttering as you take in a shakey breath and he almost purrs as a stray tear trails down your cheek. “are you winning, sei?” you whine before sinking down on him again, feeling spit drip down your chin and your words alone pull another strangled sigh from the striker, one that’s cut off with a garbled whimper when you press back down on his cock so perfectly.

“nah—“ nagi’s voice is still lithe and honeyed when he feels you choke around his cock and you hum out something reassuring around him that makes his abdomen suddenly tighten. his sleepy gaze rolling back before his attention wavers dangerously and suddenly he’s down with a low grumble. “ah, i died.”

but now his attention is on you and he��s dragging his now free hands along your back and shoulders, fingers flexing as he drags lines along the skin before he tuts with the next call from his teammates as they come into view to try revive him.

“this is s-such a pain, g’nna go afk for a bit.”

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[lazyjellyfish300]

Love Across Dimensions

Miguel O'Hara x Reader s/o

TW: ANGST, LONG DISTANCE RELATIONSHIP, READER IS MID 20S, MIGUEL'S IN HIS EARLY 30S, FLUFF. MINORS DNI AS THIS WORK IS CONNECTED TO ONE OF MY NSFW BLURBS.

Synopsis: You're from a different dimension than him. You didn't ask to fall in love with the protector of the multiverse, and it sure as hell isn't easy being in a long distance relationship with him. But what you have is special, and that's always worth waiting for. The Nicholas Sparks movie Dear John inspired this a little. (The moon quote 😫🫶🏾)

A/N: spinoff of my phone sex blurb, Long Distance. Here's some more insights into y'all's relationship. This one is mostly SFW, maybe a NSFW version coming soon? Headcanons/outline ish? Idk what it is but here you go. NSFW PART 2

-----

- He walks through his portal at HQ with your lip gloss shiny all over his neck and doesn't think to wipe it off. Clearly he's not a makeup expert and forgets that this stuff smears easily. Hobie and Pav snicker together, " well, wonder where he's been." (They already know)

"Shut it, you two!"

"Sureee, boss."

-You have him get you a trinket from every dimension, it's not up for debate. It's always a snow globe or a postcard. Your fridge and your shelf space are both running out of room by now to store them. The postcards are filled with sweet handwritten words from Miguel, telling you about his day and the location they're from.

-He won't take you across dimensions with him. He crafted you your own version of a gizmo to call him and summon Lyla whenever you need her, but you don't have the ability to travel across dimensions yet. Even Miguel can't bring himself to break his own rules, despite how much he wishes he could just bring you here and keep you here himself. The threat of canon disruption looms over his head. Losing Gabi destroyed him. A piece of his heart never recovered. Losing you could be the straw that breaks him. Not to mention, he can't protect you at all times if he took you along on his missions. He takes comfort in knowing you're tucked in, safe at home watching your favorite movies or with your best friends at a new restaurant getting drinks.

-You always save songs that you think he'd like and have all the reels you want to show him saved in a folder called "Memes for Miggy ❤️." His playlist on your Spotify is just titled "🖤" because you don't want anyone to know it's just songs for you two.

-You hardly see him. Dating someone like him is not for the weak. You can usually count on seeing him maybe once a month if you're lucky. And he'll usually stay for the weekend. And it's always the best weekend of your life.

-It took a while for him to get there, but he's super romantic/poetic when he's in love. He reassures you as you two stand outside one night, his arms wrapped around you from behind, resting his chin on your head.

"If you ever miss me, just look at the sky. It's my anchor to you. Know that when you look up at it, that I'm somewhere in it, not far away. The colors of the sky, the position of the stars, the shadow of the moon and the rays of the sun are the same in every universe, including this one where we end up together."

-His favorite gift from you is a bottle of your perfume. He'll take a sniff every now and then and close his eyes and imagine you're next to him. You do the same with his cologne. He's left a ton of hoodies and sweatpants at your house. You wear them to bed every night and give them a spritz whenever you feel like his scent is wearing off.

-The first night after he leaves is the hardest. But the night after that hurts a little less. As does the night after that, and after that, and so on. The stab wound of his departure healing itself as it has dozens of times before by now. Your heart steadily molds back to its original shape in your chest, no longer shattered. You immerse yourself in your work and your friends, trying to go out every now and then, imagining he's right there with you. Because even though he's light years away, he still is.

-But sometimes , the ache of his absence hits you like a wave crashing against a cliff it threatens to erode. When you accidentally play that song that you two belted in the car together, or when you see the carmelicious fudge ice cream in your freezer that you haven't touched since the last time you two ate it together, sharing the carton. It hurts when you realize you're spending another Christmas Eve without him, leaving you with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk that you have to enjoy all by yourself, staring at his stocking you bought and stuffed for him hanging untouched over your fireplace. Hearing your niece and nephew buzzing about their Valentine's cards they get to hand out at school, knowing that the one you bought for Miguel will stay forgotten in the grocery bag in your closet. Tiny needles that pierce you. A jarring reminder that your heart is split in two across a vast continuum of time and space, with Miguel holding the other half on the opposite side.

-You cry, a lot. And little do you know, he does too. The last time after you guys got home from a few days at a little beach house in San Diego, you just sobbed and sobbed into his arms while he held you in your pajamas as you slowly walked him to your apartment door. His expression was sorrowful as he tried to brush your tears away, lip trembling as he tried to ward off his own tears that threatened to release, a tight knot causing his voice to choke in his throat.

"I'll back for you. I promise, baby. Think of me, okay? Use your watch to call me whenever you want."

You look up at him, mucus running down your nose and your eyes puffy and red, but you don't care. You bathe in the ruby ocean of his eyes for one more moment, windows to his precious soul that now inevitably belongs to you. You touch his cheeks, the smooth pattern of his skin imprinting itself in your palms, his warmth transferring onto you a final time before your body eventually forgets.

He walks forward across the threshold with a deep breath as he lets go of your hand at last, slowly closing the door behind him. The door barely clicks before he's ripping it back open, pulling you back into his arms as you wail and sob some more while he just rocks you gently in his embrace, his face buried in your neck.

Trying to tattoo the scent and feel of your body into his memory one more time. As though the very essence of you were all the rations he'd need to hold him off until that moment when he could feast on your beautiful smile once again. He tries not to think about how this could be the last time. The reality of the dangers of the job he signed up for are a painful reminder. Being Spider-Man is a sacrifice.

He finally closes the door behind him, and walks slowly through the orange glowing tunnel, tears leaking down his face, gasping as though the wind got knocked out of him. He hates saying goodbye, praying and pleading to whatever deity is out there that it wouldn't be the last time he did.

Why did the universe plant you so far away from him? Why did the love of his life exist on a plane of existence separate from his? The laws of time, space, and the formidable, neverending, infinite weight of the multiverse barring you two from each other.

But you're his true love. Of course he'd find his way back to you. In any universe.

------

💖

[paladin-heart5]

Heart to Heart

Leon Kennedy x female reader

Summary; Leon has a nightmare about losing you, and you're right there to comfort him

Word count; 827

CW; mentions of blood, hurt/comfort, fluff

The chill air flowed through the window that was slightly ajar. Just enough for the curtains to sway, letting the moonlight slip through. It was a beautiful night. Cool enough for her to snuggle into his chest for warmth. While he laid with the blanket on half of his body, even though he's shirtless. It's a peaceful sight, the couple had a long, busy day. The rest is much needed. 

Leon, however, was struggling with another nightmare. The past still weighs heavy on his shoulders. His brain just tortured him. The nightmare consisted of the norm, Raccoon city, Spain, all those bioweapons. This time it was about her, losing her. Frozen in place as she's being hurt, right before him. He couldn't move, all he could do was scream, shout for the killers to stop. Her eyes are glossy, full of fear and sadness. Her cries echoed, making him thrash. Red. That's all that was visible, the color of blood, the color of their eyes. It haunts him. He'd do anything to protect her, but he failed.

Leon jumped awake with an audible gasp, followed by heavy breathing. “Nonono, please.” He cried, heart beating rapidly, sweat drenched his hair. This jolt caused her to pop up in a hurry. Seeing her love in such distress made her heart cry. Concern flashed through her eyes as she carefully grabbed his hands.

“Leon, Leon, honey.” She called as she made him look at her. The blue in his eyes were darker, he must've experienced such a scare. She doesn't often see the great Leon S. Kennedy break. When he does, it's after so much bottling up. His eyes do widen at the sight of her, alive and well. The moonlight made her look heavenly.

“Y/n… you're alive.” His voice cracked, another thing she didn't often hear. She always encouraged Leon to express his feelings, good or bad. It was a hard shell to break, but he eventually started to open up. This situation will definitely have to end with him opening up more.

“Of course I'm alive baby. Did you have another nightmare?” Y/n asked softly, her voice quiet but comforting. It was true music to his ears. He could only pull her close, clinging for dear life. 

“I thought I lost you. I can't- I can't live without you.” His grip tightened, almost crushing her.

“Hey hey, baby, you aren't going to lose me. I know you'll protect me from anything and everything. And I want to protect you from those horrid thoughts. It's okay, let yourself fall apart.” She calmly spoke to him as he hid his face in her neck. Her fingers gently combed through his blonde locks. His quiet sobs slowly started to die down, her warmth and gentleness was like a healing potion to him. 

“I love you so much, Y/n. Please don't leave me.” He whispered, interlocking their fingers together. Y/n carefully raised his hand to her lips, placing a sweet kiss. 

“I wouldn't dream of it, darling. I'll always be here, waiting and worrying when you'll come home. I'll take care of all your wounds, and I'll love you forever.” She chuckled, rocking the both of them. Leon smiled softly, taking in her scent. He'll do whatever it takes to live, to come back home to her, to keep her safe. All he can think to do is place kisses on her neck. 

Y/n giggled and laid him back on the bed. She carefully straddled him and wiped away his tears. She then laid her head on top of his chest. The sound of his beating heart was much more steady. Leon relaxed a bit more as he held her close. 

“Do you ever.. have nightmares about me?” Leon asked quietly, making you look at him.

“Often, when you're on missions.” She answered simply as if it didn't matter. Leon looked at her with a frown.

“With no one to comfort you?” He asked, Y/n shrugged.

“Well no, sometimes I'll call Claire and she'll comfort me. Or I'll wear your favorite hoodie, it smells just like you!” She explained, her boyfriend melted a bit at the way her eyes lit up. 

“I promise to try texting or calling you more when I'm gone, okay? And tomorrow we're going to get those stuffed animals where you can put your voice in it.” Leon says, rubbing her back. Y/n tilted her head and chuckled.

“You mean a build-a-bear?” She asked, he blinked.

“That's what they're called?” He responded, you could only laugh in response.

“You're such a goof!” She snuggled into him, the tiredness returned to her with a yawn. Leon smiled at her, he rubbed her back gently.

“Get some rest, baby. Sorry for waking you.” He says quietly.

“Don't be sorry, I want to help.” She hums as she closes her eyes. Letting the sleep overtake her, Leon watched her peacefully.

"Thank you." He whispered.