#i’m falling asleep to dreams of this for the next year | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cassiemaebarnes · 15 days ago

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Dreaming of You

Bucky x reader

Summary: When Bucky has a good dream about you, he wakes up confused - and with the best sleep he's had in years. When he continues having these soft dreams, he begins to believe that maybe he does deserve comfort, despite his messed up past.

Word Count: 9,220

Bucky didn’t remember falling asleep. One moment he was staring blankly at the ceiling of his room in the compound, the next, there was quiet. A different quiet.

He was lying in a bed. Not his own.

The sheets weren’t a deep navy blue. They were soft and rumpled, a light gray that smelled faintly of vanilla and something else – something familiar. There was no hum of the compound’s lights, no distant clang of Tony’s tech or the low murmur of the common room TV. Just stillness.

He blinked slowly, turning his head, expecting to find an explanation. But what he saw made him freeze.

You were there. Curled against him like you belonged there – like you chose to be there. Head resting gently on his chest, breath even and slow, your hand lightly curled into the fabric of his t-shirt. Your leg was slung over his like you’d done this before. Like it was natural. Like it was safe.

For a moment, he just stared.

You didn’t talk to him much. Not in a bad way – you were just quiet, like he was. But when you did speak, it was soft and easy. You didn’t tiptoe around him or treat him like a project. You gave him space. And somehow, without trying, you’d found your way into the parts of his life that felt…normal.

But this – this wasn’t normal. This wasn’t real.

And then he saw it.

His stomach twisted violently.

The metal arm. Shining silver. Red star on the shoulder.

The Winter Soldier.

Panic crawled up his throat.

He tried to move – tried to pull away – but he couldn’t. His body wouldn’t obey. His left arm, the metal one, lay at his side like dead weight. His right arm, the flesh one, was wrapped around you, and he hadn’t even realized it. He wanted to pull it back, wanted to get away before he hurt you.

The pressure built in his chest, heart hammering like a warning bell. His mind raced. He was him again. That version of himself. Cold. Weaponized. Dangerous.

Why couldn’t he move?

Why wouldn’t the dream let him move?

But then – you shifted, softly. Your hand curled tighter into his shirt. Your cheek rubbed against his chest in your sleep like you were burrowing closer. And your lips curved into the faintest smile.

Like you were happy.

With him.

Bucky’s breath stilled. The panic dulled at the edges, like someone had taken the volume knob and slowly turned it down.

You sighed. A soft, content sound. One that said, I’m safe here.

He stared at you, everything inside him slowly cracking open. The metal arm stayed still and lifeless beside him, but it didn’t matter now. You weren’t afraid.

You were still here.

He let out a slow, shaky breath, letting it all go with the exhale. The fear. The guilt. The weight. The arm still didn’t move, but it wasn’t the threat he’d imagined. Not in this moment. Not with you beside him.

Peace wasn’t something he often found – even in dreams.

But now he let it wrap around him like the warmth of the bed, the quiet of the room, the gentle rhythm of your breathing. His eyes softened, chest rising and falling with yours.

And then the dream faded.

But the calm stayed with him.

Bucky stirred slowly, eyes blinking open to the soft morning light filtering through his window. For once, he wasn’t jolted awake. No nightmares. No cold sweat. No tremor in his hands.

Just…rest.

He frowned at the ceiling. That was new.

He stretched slightly, joints stiff from staying in one position too long, but his body felt lighter somehow. Not in the physical sense – he still had the same weight, the same scars – but the kind of lightness that comes after real sleep. The kind that doesn’t happen often for him. Almost never.

His brows furrowed. Why?

Then – slowly – it came back to him.

The dream.

The warmth. The quiet. The feel of a body pressed to his. Your body. Head on his chest, hand holding onto his shirt, your leg tangled over his. Like you belonged there. Like he belonged there.

And the arm.

The metal one. With the red star.

He sat up too quickly, rubbing a hand down his face. The image of it all clung to his mind now – your peaceful face, that little smile in your sleep, how close you were. How it should have terrified him but didn’t – not in the end.

He didn’t know what the hell it meant.

Why you?

Why that version of him?

Why now?

Bucky exhaled slowly, trying to shove the dream to the back of his mind. Dreams didn’t mean anything. Not for him. They were scrambled echoes of memory and fear, things buried and half-processed. This was no different.

Still, his chest ached in a way he couldn’t explain.

He got out of bed and moved through the motions of his morning routine, then headed down to the kitchen.

There were already a few people scattered around the room, mugs in hand, morning voices low and mumbled. Sam leaned against the counter scrolling through his phone. Nat was picking at a muffin. And you were at the table, sipping from a light blue mug, eyes on a book with one leg tucked under you.

You looked up when he walked in. “Morning,” you said softly, offering him a little smile.

His stomach flipped.

It hit him like a punch to the gut. That smile.

Exactly like the dream.

He didn’t say anything at first, caught off guard. Your eyes lingered on him for just a second, warm and casual, like it was no big deal.

“Morning,” he mumbled, voice gruff as he moved past you.

He busied himself with pouring his coffee, pretending he didn’t feel the heat creeping up the back of his neck. Pretending the dream wasn’t clawing its way to the surface again, vivid and disorienting and suddenly way too close to real.

He took a long sip of coffee, staring blankly at the counter.

Just a dream, he told himself again.

But the sound of your soft sigh behind him, the scrape of your mug against the table as you took another sip – it sounded exactly the same.

And he couldn’t shake it.

The office was quiet, just the soft ticking of the wall clock and the hum of distant city traffic outside the window. Bucky sat on the familiar worn-in couch, arms crossed loosely over his chest. Dr. Raynor was scribbling something in her notebook as she usually did before looking up at him.

“So,” she said, tone casual but watchful. “How many nightmares this past week?”

Bucky opened his mouth, the number already at the front of his mind. “Uh, I think…”

He trailed off, brows drawing together.

He thought the dream a couple nights ago. About waking up without a jolt, about how calm his body felt for the first time in…God, he didn’t even know how long. It wasn’t like the other dreams – not dark or violent. But he was the Winter Soldier in it. That arm. That red star. That helplessness. That fear.

But…

Then there was you. And peace. And warmth.

He hadn’t had that. Not even in dreams.

“Bucky?”

Dr. Raynor’s voice broke into his thoughts, cutting through the silence.

He blinked, snapping his attention back to her. “Uh, sorry. I think…three.”

She nodded, jotting it down. “That’s good. Fewer than last week. Progress.”

He gave a small, vague grunt in agreement, but she was already watching him a little too closely.

“What was the pause about?”

He hesitated. He could brush it off. Say he miscounted. Change the subject. But the dream had stuck with him. Still clung to the edges of his mind the past few mornings. He was curious – about what it meant, and about what she’d think of it.

So he exhaled slowly. “I…had a different kind of dream. A couple nights ago.”

Dr. Raynor leaned back slightly, folding her hands. “Different how?”

Bucky stared down at his hands for a second before answering. “I was lying in a bed. Just…quiet. And there was someone with me. A girl.” His voice stayed even, careful. “She was laying on me. Head on my chest, hand holding my shirt, leg over mine. We were just…there. Like it was normal.”

Raynor’s expression didn’t change, but he could tell she was paying full attention now.

“I looked down, and – my arm. It was the Winter Soldier version. Silver. Red star.” He swallowed. “I panicked. I couldn’t move it. Couldn’t move at all. Thought I was gonna hurt her. But then she moved closer in her sleep. Smiled.” He paused, voice softening. “It calmed me down. I felt…okay. Even with the arm.”

Dr. Raynor hummed thoughtfully. “Did you know the girl?”

Bucky’s eyes flicked up to hers. There was a moment of hesitation, then a quiet, “No.”

She raised an eyebrow, the kind that said you’re lying and we both know it, but she didn’t press.

“Did you wake up after that?”

He shook his head. “No. Slept through the night. Woke up in the morning, and it was the best sleep I’ve had in…a long time.”

There was a pause. Then, to his surprise, Dr. Raynor smiled – a small, genuine smile.

“Well,” she said, “it sounds like your brain is trying to tell you something.”

Bucky frowned. “Like what?”

“That you deserve comfort like that. Even with your past.”

The words hit him harder than he expected – right in the chest. He sat a little straighter, caught off guard by the way those simple words landed. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

She continued gently. “You’ve spent years believing you’re not allowed to have peace. That you have to earn something you already should’ve had. And now, maybe your subconscious is finally pushing back on that.”

Bucky looked down again, lips pressed into a thin line.

“That dream wasn’t about danger. It wasn’t about control or violence or punishment. It was about being okay, even with the parts of you you’re still learning to accept.”

He didn’t respond, but something settled in him. Not quite relief. Not quite understanding. But something quieter than what he was used to.

Something like hope.

She scribbled something else down, then glanced up again. “Let it stay with you. The way that felt. Don’t dismiss it just because it didn’t scare you.”

He nodded, almost to himself.

He wouldn’t forget it.

Not the dream.

Not your smile.

And maybe, just maybe, not the feeling that – just for a moment – he was allowed to feel that safe.

Later that night, Bucky fell asleep without much effort – something that still felt strange, even after his conversation with Dr. Raynor earlier that day. Her words had echoed in his mind, quiet and persistent: You deserve comfort like that. Even with your past.

He didn’t quite believe it.

But somehow, his body did, because sleep pulled him under fast.

And the dream returned.

The same soft hush of a room that wasn’t his. The same tangled gray sheets. The same smell – vanilla and you.

He blinked slowly, just like last time.

Except…this time, everything was flipped.

You were still beside him – but now, on his left. Your body tucked perfectly into his side, your head nestled just below his shoulder, your hand curled into his shirt, your leg tangled with his.

But his metal arm – the Winter Soldier arm – was curled around you.

Touching you.

Holding you.

He froze.

Panic surged through him like a current.

No. No, no, no.

He looked down at the gleam of silver in the soft light, the red star glowing faintly like a warning. His mind screamed. What if it was pressing too hard? What if it locked up or jerked suddenly? What if it hurt you and he couldn’t stop it?

He tried to move it. Tried to pull away. But just like last time, the dream held him in place. The arm wouldn’t respond. It just was – still, locked in its place around you.

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat.

This wasn’t okay.

He shouldn’t be allowed to hold someone like this. Not with that arm. Not with the weight of what it had done. Not when it could still do damage.

But then – you shifted, slowly again.

You sighed softly. Peacefully. A little smile tugged at your lips as you nuzzled your face further into his chest, like you wanted to be even closer.

Like you were safe.

His panic stuttered. He blinked again, heart thudding for a different reason now.

You weren’t afraid. You didn’t recoil. You didn’t treat that arm like a threat.

You embraced it. Him.

Every bit of him.

Slowly, he let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. His jaw unclenched. His shoulders eased down. He didn’t try to move the arm again – he didn’t want to. It was holding you. You were breathing steady, face peaceful, lips still curved with that small, content smile.

And somehow, for the second time, so was he.

He watched you quietly, letting the warmth of the moment soak into him. Letting it settle somewhere deeper than it had before. You hadn’t just tolerated the arm.

You trusted it.

Trusted him.

The room faded again. Soft and slow.

But the feeling – the comfort, the calm, the way you smiled in your sleep – it stayed.

Just like before.

Bucky woke with a slow inhale, the weight of sleep still clinging to his body.

But this time, he didn’t need a moment to remember.

The dream was right there, vivid and whole, waiting for him like it never left.

You, curled up against his left side. His metal arm – that arm – wrapped around you. And not by accident. Not something he couldn’t control. It was holding you. Touching you. And you didn’t flinch. You didn’t fear it.

You smiled.

He blinked up at the ceiling, jaw slack with quiet disbelief. His heart wasn’t racing. His hands weren’t clenched. There was no cold sweat or lingering tension in his spine.

Just a steady breath. A strange calm.

He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled.

He slept better than he had in years.

Maybe Dr. Raynor was right. Maybe his brain was trying to tell him something. Something he hadn’t let himself believe for a long time. Something about softness. About comfort. About…deserving it.

Even now, lying there in the soft morning light, the feeling hadn’t left him. It buzzed quietly under his skin – warm, unfamiliar. Not something he trusted yet. But not something he wanted to shake off either.

With a grunt, he sat up and went through the motions of his morning routine again and headed down to the kitchen, rubbing a hand over his face. The smell of coffee hit him as soon as he rounded the corner.

Voices filtered through the space – soft and half-awake.

Sam was at the counter again, talking to someone across the room. Natasha leaned over a bowl of cereal. And you were at the table, in the same seat as before, scrolling lazily through something on your phone. You wore a cozy sweater today, sleeves pushed up to your elbows, your mug cradled in one hand.

You looked up when you saw him, smile soft and casual.

“Morning,” you said, voice quiet but warm.

His stomach flipped.

Just like the other day.

He swallowed thickly, eyes catching on the curve of your smile. The exact one from his dream. That same relaxed expression. That same tiny upturn of your lips like you were happy to see him.

He forced his eyes away.

“Morning,” he mumbled, barely above a grumble, and headed straight to the coffee machine.

He busied himself with pouring his coffee, keeping his back to the others. But his mind wasn’t quiet.

All he could think about was that dream. The weight of your head on his shoulder. The feel of your hand against his chest. The way you smiled in your sleep like everything about that moment was safe.

He took a long sip of the coffee, letting the warmth ground him.

Bucky leaned against the counter, mug in hand, eyes fixed on absolutely nothing in particular. He was too aware of you. Of your presence. The sound of your laugh – soft and breathy – when Sam made some dumb comment. The way you sat, one leg tucked under you, like you were completely at ease here.

He wasn’t used to noticing this much.

Or rather…he wasn’t used to letting himself notice.

“Hey, Barnes,” Sam called across the kitchen, pointing a spoon at him. “You gonna just brood in the corner all morning or are you capable of eating like a normal human being?”

Bucky gave him a deadpan look over his mug. “I am eating. This is breakfast.” He raised the mug like proof.

“Coffee’s not breakfast, man,” Sam said, gesturing to the bowl of yogurt in front of him. “It’s a sad, bitter hug.”

You snorted into your drink, and Bucky’s eyes flicked over to you before he could stop himself. That sound – your laugh – was way better than whatever Sam thought was funny.

Natasha gave a dry smile, not looking up from her cereal. “Let him be. At least he’s not staring into the distance like he’s reliving war crimes again.”

“Pretty sure that’s just his face,” Sam muttered.

That earned a louder laugh from you.

Bucky took a long drink of coffee to hide the corner of his mouth twitching.

Then Steve walked in, holding a tablet. “Morning,” he greeted as he passed, setting the device on the counter. “There’s a meeting at ten. Just some info about the upcoming mission.”

“Who’s going?” Nat asked.

Steve tapped the screen. “Me, Sam, Nat, and y/n.”

You raised your brows, nodding slowly. “Cool. I haven’t had a field op in a week. I’m itching.”

Bucky’s eyes went to you again without thinking. That little grin, that spark in your eyes – it tugged at something low in his chest. You were so casual, so ready. Brave, smart, calm. Everything he felt like he had to force in himself just to function.

Then Sam, apparently unable to resist, added, “Don’t worry, Barnes. We’ll bring you back a souvenir.”

“I didn’t say I wanted one,” Bucky muttered.

“Your eyes say it. The haunted ones.”

Bucky rolled them.

You leaned a little toward Sam with a playful smile. “I think he just wants us out of the kitchen so he can mope in peace.”

Bucky looked at you, eyebrows raised, and – damn it – there was that same smile again. Not teasing. Not mocking. Just...soft. Familiar in a way that made his chest feel tight.

Like the dream again.

The red star flashed in his mind for just a second – how it had looked resting beside your head.

His grip on the mug tightened and he looked away.

“You’re all very funny,” he muttered.

Sam raised his hands in mock surrender. “We try.”

You slid out of your seat, passing close by him on your way to the sink. “Don’t worry, Bucky,” you said gently, voice just for him. “You’ll miss us when we’re gone.”

He didn't say anything. Couldn’t, really.

Because he was pretty sure he would.

A couple nights later, the world was green and gold.

Sunlight filtered through trees he didn’t recognize, casting dappled shadows on the path beneath his boots. A soft breeze tugged at the edge of his sleeves, carrying the scent of something fresh – flowers maybe.

It was quiet and peaceful.

Still, Bucky frowned.

He didn’t know this place.

The path curved ahead through a gentle park, benches spaced out along the edges, a few distant people walking dogs or pushing strollers. He glanced around, scanning like he always did – half instinct, half reflex.

Then he looked to his left.

And there you were.

Walking beside him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

No gear. No weapons. Just you, in casual clothes, looking comfortable and calm, your arms swinging gently at your sides. You didn’t say anything at first – just strolled, matching his pace, steps quiet on the pavement.

He stared, confused.

But before he could say anything, you looked up at him.

And smiled.

Not some bright, flashy grin. Just something quiet, warm, and familiar. Like you’d been here beside him the whole time and nothing about it was strange.

Then, without a word, you reached up and held his hand, lacing your fingers with his.

His metal hand. The Winter Soldier’s.

Bucky’s whole body went stiff.

His breath caught in his chest like someone had punched him.

The panic started the same way it always did – sharp, cold, immediate. That hand. That arm. He didn’t even like people walking on that side of him most of the time. Didn’t want them close to it.

But you…you hadn’t even hesitated.

You just laced your fingers through his like it was second nature.

Like it meant nothing.

Or maybe – everything.

He tried to pull away.

He couldn’t.

His feet kept walking. His body moved forward. But his hand – his metal hand – remained in yours.

And you didn’t look scared. You didn’t flinch or squeeze too tightly or act like it was anything other than his hand. Not a weapon. Not something dangerous.

Just…his.

You held it like you’d done it a hundred times before.

Like you wanted to.

And the whole time, that soft little smile stayed on your face.

He looked at you again, expecting to see some kind of shift – wariness, discomfort, anything. But all he saw was peace. Trust.

The panic in his chest twisted. Less sharp now. Still there, still curling at the edges of his thoughts, but quieter. Muffled under something heavier. Something warmer.

So he didn’t fight it.

He just…walked with you.

Fingers interlocked.

Sunlight dappling the path.

And when the dream began to fade, he didn’t want to let go.

Bucky woke up with the ghost of your hand still wrapped in his.

He lay there, eyes half-open, staring at the ceiling like it might give him answers. But it didn’t. Just the same bland paint, same quiet hum of the AC, same everything. Except him.

He didn’t feel the same.

The dream hadn’t faded this time. It was sharp. Too sharp. The colors. The breeze. The way you looked at him. The weight of your fingers laced with his metal ones, swinging lightly between you as if you’d never thought twice about touching him like that. Holding him like that.

His left hand rested against his chest now, unmoving.

He stared at it, heart thudding a little too loud in his ears.

Usually, the panic hit him first.

Usually, there was cold sweat. A racing pulse. The instinct to get up, walk it off, ground himself.

But this time…it was different.

There was confusion, of course. Why that arm again? Why you? Why the park? Why did it feel so damn real?

But under the confusion, there was something else entirely, deeper and quieter.

Longing.

It sat in his chest like a weight, not painful, but persistent, like something had just barely brushed against a place inside him he didn’t even know was empty until it wasn’t.

You looked so happy in that dream. So peaceful. Like you wanted to be there with him. Like you didn’t care that it was that hand you were holding. Like it never mattered.

And for a moment…he let himself believe it.

He rubbed his face with his flesh hand, sighing deep into the quiet.

He wasn’t used to wanting anything like this.

Not comfort.

Not softness.

Not…you.

But now, he couldn’t un-feel it.

He stayed there for a while, lying in bed, trying to push it down – but the feeling clung stubbornly to the edges of his mind.

Eventually, he got up and got ready, heading downstairs.

The kitchen was quiet when he walked in. Just Sam, Steve, and Nat – already half-finished with breakfast, voices low, the occasional clink of spoons against bowls – the usual noise.

But you weren’t there.

And Bucky didn’t expect the disappointment that tugged at his chest.

He tried to ignore it. Shoved it down like everything else. You didn’t owe him your presence. It wasn’t like you should be here. Still, it hit harder than it should’ve.

He poured himself a cup of coffee, fingers tight around the handle, and sat at the island without saying a word. None of them pushed him. Nat gave him a polite nod. Steve offered a brief, “Morning, Buck.” Sam just nodded and kept eating.

Bucky sipped his coffee and stared at nothing, trying not to think about the park, or your hand in his, or the way it had felt like something he'd never known he needed.

Then he heard the sound of footsteps approaching the kitchen.

His spine stiffened.

Then he saw you.

Hair a little messy. Hoodie hanging over your frame. Sleep still soft around your eyes. You looked barely awake – but when your gaze found him, you smiled.

That same quiet smile.

His stomach flipped.

But this time…his chest fluttered too.

“Morning,” you said, voice a little hoarse from sleep.

“Morning,” he mumbled back, too fast, too quiet. Eyes dropping instantly to his coffee like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

You walked over to the coffee machine and poured yourself a cup of coffee in your favorite light blue mug. Then, you turned and walked over to the island and sat down. Not in your usual spot, which would put a chair in between you two.

Right next to him.

On his left side.

By his metal arm.

His entire body tensed. Not panicked – just frozen. Every cell aware. That old instinct to shift away, to hide the arm, to make sure no one accidentally brushed against it. But he didn’t move. You didn’t seem to notice the shift in him, the tension laced through his frame.

You just sipped your coffee, then turned a little toward him.

“How’d you sleep?” you asked, casual, soft.

He blinked. Swallowed.

“…Good,” he said, forcing his voice to sound even. Normal.

You smiled a little more. “Good.”

Then…nothing.

No follow-up. No chatter.

Just you, sitting beside him, quiet and easy and not even glancing at his arm.

Bucky stared into his coffee again, heart still thudding somewhere too close to his ribs. A part of him wanted to get up, walk out, hide like he always did when things got too close. But another part just wanted to stay.

Because sitting here, next to you, felt almost like the dream.

And for the first time, that didn’t scare him.

It made him feel like maybe – just maybe – it could be real.

Later that day, he was back in the familiar office sitting on the worn couch. Dr. Raynor glanced down at her notepad before looking up at Bucky, her tone casual but her gaze sharp.

“So, how many nightmares this week?”

Bucky didn’t hesitate. “None.”

She blinked. Her pen paused mid-word. “None?”

He nodded once, folding his arms across his chest but not defensively – more like he didn’t know what else to do with his hands.

Dr. Raynor leaned back slightly in her chair, eyes narrowing just a bit, surprised but clearly pleased. “Well…that’s really good, Bucky.”

He gave a small nod again but said nothing. She let the silence linger for a beat before continuing.

“Any more dreams like the last one?”

There was a flicker of something behind his eyes – something warmer than his usual stormcloud gaze. He looked at the floor, just for a second. “Yeah. Two more.”

Dr. Raynor smiled slightly. “Were they the same?”

“Kind of.”

“Tell me,” she said, leaning back in her chair.

Bucky shifted in his seat, arms still crossed, eyes distant like he was watching the scenes play in his head. “The first one…we were in bed again, the same one I didn’t recognize. Laying there. Only this time, she was on the other side of me. I had my left arm around her.”

Dr. Raynor’s brows lifted slightly, but she didn’t interrupt.

“It was still the metal one,” Bucky added, quieter. “The Winter Soldier one. But she didn’t mind. She was asleep against it like it was nothing.” He paused. “Like I was just...me.”

Dr. Raynor softened but stayed quiet, giving him room.

“The second dream…” he went on, “We were walking in some park. Not one I knew. Trees everywhere, real quiet. She was on my left side again.” He took a breath, like saying it out loud was harder than he thought it would be. “Then she reached up and held my hand. The metal one.” He glanced up at Dr. Raynor. “Still the old one.”

She nodded slowly, thoughtful. “And after those dreams...you still sleep well?”

“Yeah,” he said, more firmly this time. “I wake up feeling okay. Like I’m still there, kind of.”

“That’s a good thing, Bucky. That’s progress.”

He didn’t say anything, but his posture eased just slightly.

Dr. Raynor tapped her pen against the notepad. “Do you know the girl?”

“No,” he said quickly.

She raised an eyebrow at him, the same way she had the last time. No words – just that look, skeptical and patient and knowing.

Bucky sighed, his shoulders slumping just a little. “Yes.”

Dr. Raynor nodded, unsurprised. “Have you told her about the dreams?”

He shook his head.

“Who is she?”

“She’s…a teammate,” Bucky muttered, picking at a loose thread on the seam of his jacket. “New. Doesn’t talk much, but…she’s always nice.”

Dr. Raynor hummed, a thoughtful sound. She didn’t press, just let the silence stretch until it made Bucky glance up again.

“You should think about telling her,” she said gently. “See what she thinks.”

Bucky didn’t respond. He just stared down at his hands again, frowning.

He couldn’t tell her. He knew it. Because if she heard what he dreamed – if she knew she was part of this ideal version of his broken subconscious – she’d bolt. Or worse, she’d pity him. And either would be unbearable.

So he stayed silent. And Dr. Raynor didn’t push. But he could feel her eyes on him, reading everything he wasn’t saying.

The next dream started in a familiar place – the in the common room of the compound, the soft glow of a movie playing quietly on the TV.

He settled into the couch, feeling the familiar weight of his metal arm resting at his side, cold but steady.

Then, he became aware of you.

On his left side again.

You were sitting close, wrapped in a blanket, the fabric pooling softly over your legs.

You didn’t look up at him this time.

Instead, you shifted slowly, leaning over until your head came to rest on his metal shoulder.

Bucky froze for a moment, but the panic didn’t rise like before. It didn’t claw at him.

Instead, a quiet calm settled through him.

He felt…comfortable. Almost warm.

He looked down at you, watching the peaceful rise and fall of your breath.

After a moment, you tilted your head just enough to glance up at him, eyes soft, the same little smile curling your lips.

Then, without a word, you turned your gaze back to the movie.

Bucky settled back into the couch, heart steady, chest lighter.

He let himself enjoy the moment – the quiet closeness, the softness of the night, the feeling that maybe, just maybe, this was where he belonged.

And then the dream faded.

Bucky woke slowly, the edges of the dream still clinging to him like mist. For a moment, he stayed still, eyes half-closed, breathing even. The quiet hum of the compound in the early morning was a stark contrast to the gentle glow of the dream’s memory – the movie, the couch, the familiar weight of her head against his shoulder. He could almost still feel it.

He rubbed a hand down his face and stared at the ceiling, brow furrowed in thought.

He knew what it meant – at least, in the vague, half-therapeutic way that Dr. Raynor would explain it. His brain, reaching for peace. For softness. For something to hold onto when the world always felt like it was trying to push him away. It made sense, kind of. A subconscious reminder that he deserved comfort, despite everything.

But why her?

It could’ve been anyone. Some faceless, gentle figure. Or no face at all, just a blur that whispered kindness in silence. That’s what he would’ve expected. Not someone real. Not someone who existed within arm’s reach in his actual life.

Not a teammate.

He sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and exhaling slowly. Maybe if he just kept moving, it’d fade. The thoughts, the dreams, the softness of it all.

He pulled on a hoodie and headed toward the kitchen.

The sounds of morning met him as he approached – soft laughter, clinking mugs, voices overlapping. Everyone was already there, it seemed. He hesitated in the hallway, only for a second, before stepping inside.

And then he saw her.

She was seated in her usual spot at the island, barefoot and cross-legged in her chair, talking to Steve about something.

His chest fluttered – sharp and uninvited.

Bucky looked away immediately, cursing silently under his breath as he made a beeline for the coffee pot.

“Morning,” she said, bright and easy, like it cost her nothing.

He didn’t look at her. Couldn’t. “Morning,” he muttered, pouring himself a cup. His hand was steady, but his stomach wasn’t.

He considered sitting. There was space next to her. She’d sat next to him just the other day – plopped down like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he wasn’t a walking museum of trauma and metal and things better left unsaid.

But he stayed standing, back leaning against the counter, eyes flickering in her direction despite himself.

She was laughing now – head tilted slightly, eyes crinkling at the corners, hands wrapped around her mug. She didn’t glance at him. Didn’t need to. She just kept being herself.

And he just kept watching her, silent and still, wondering when she’d started feeling more like home than his own bed did.

You’re sitting at the island, fingers curled around your warm mug, letting the easy flow of morning conversation wash over you. Sam says something that makes you chuckle, and you offer a quiet reply, but your eyes keep drifting.

You glance over toward Bucky. The moment your eyes meet, he looks away. Fast. Too fast for it to be casual.

Your smile falters, and your brows draw together just slightly.

It’s the third time this morning you’ve caught him doing that – avoiding eye contact, ducking away like the sight of you is something sharp. He hadn’t even looked at you when he walked in. Just a low, distracted “morning” with his eyes glued to the coffee pot.

And that isn’t like him. He usually at least looks at you.

Bucky's never exactly chatty, but he’ll usually give you something – an amused comment, a dry joke, even just a subtle glance that says yeah, I heard you, and that was funny. But the past week or so, it’s like a wall’s gone up. A quiet shift you can’t quite name, but you feel it all the same.

It’s in the way he keeps his distance, and how you catch him looking sometimes, only for him to immediately pretend he wasn’t.

You sip your coffee, trying not to let it get to you. Trying not to read too far into it.

Still, your mind turns over the possibility that maybe – somehow – you did something. Said something. Made him uncomfortable. You’ve gone over your recent conversations in your head more times than you’d like to admit, but there’s nothing obvious, no red flag.

And yet, the cold space between you now feels intentional.

You want to ask. You want to turn around right now and say “Hey, did I do something?” but not here. Not in front of everyone. Not while Natasha’s discussing training schedules and Sam’s recounting whatever bizarre YouTube rabbit hole he fell down last night.

So you just stay quiet.

You bring your mug back to your lips and steal one more glance toward the counter.

He’s standing there with his coffee, back straight, face unreadable. Watching the room. Watching you, maybe. You can’t tell.

And so, for now, you let it go. But the worry still lingers, curling low in your stomach.

The run didn’t help.

Bucky had hoped it would – the steady rhythm of his feet on pavement, the wind slicing against his skin, the silence of early afternoon. But even with his heart racing and muscles burning, his mind never quieted.

He kept thinking about you.

About the way your head felt resting against his shoulder in the dream. About how you’d smiled without looking up. About how he’d woken up with that calm still in his chest, only for it to twist into knots the moment he saw you in the kitchen.

Why you? Why not some faceless person? Why not no one at all?

He didn’t have answers. Only questions that kept piling up and looping back on themselves. The only thing he was sure of was that avoiding you hadn’t done a damn thing to fix it.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding and he stepped out into the common room, sweat cooling on his skin. His shirt stuck to his back, and his dog tags shifted with each step as he moved toward the kitchen.

Then he saw you.

You were sitting at the island again, perched on the same stool, legs tucked up, scrolling casually through your phone. A half-eaten bag of pretzels sat in front of you, one hand idly reaching inside every so often. Your expression was relaxed and unaware, until you looked up and saw him.

“Hi,” you said, your voice light, but tinged with something that sounded almost...careful.

Bucky’s eyes met yours for the briefest second. “Hi,” he mumbled, already moving past her.

He went straight to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water and twisting the cap off. Cold condensation dripped down his fingers. He turned around quickly, fully intending to walk right back out.

But then–

“Hey, wait.”

His feet stopped before his brain caught up. He turned slowly, water bottle still in hand.

You were watching him now, your phone resting face-down on the counter. Your brow was creased, concern etched subtly between your eyes.

“Did I...do something?” you asked.

Bucky blinked. “What?”

You hesitated, like you hated even asking. “It just feels like you’ve been avoiding me. You haven’t really talked to me lately. Not like before.” Your voice dropped a little. “If I said or did something wrong, I’d really like to know.”

The words hit him harder than he expected.

He hadn’t realized you’d noticed. Or that you cared.

Bucky opened his mouth, then closed it again, taking a breath. “No,” he said finally, his voice rough. “You didn’t do anything.”

He could see the tension in your shoulders ease slightly, but your eyes were still searching his. Not angry, just worried.

He thought of Dr. Raynor, and what she said. You should think about telling her. See what she thinks.

He looked down at the floor, then back at you. You were still waiting, quiet and patient.

You tilted your head slightly. “Then…is something going on?”

There was a pause. A long one.

And then, before he could stop himself – before he could talk himself out of it –

“I’ve been having dreams about you.”

The words were out. Heavy, real, and hanging between you like something fragile that could shatter with a single wrong move.

Bucky kept his gaze on you, waiting for you to laugh, to recoil, to look at him like you didn’t know what to say.

But right now, he couldn’t take it back.

“Oh,” you say after a beat, eyes wide. “Are they…good dreams or bad dreams?”

Bucky feels the corner of his mouth tug upward, just slightly. “Good,” he says, then pauses. “Really good, actually.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you blink. “Oh.”

There’s a shift in your tone – subtle, but unmistakable. And Bucky sees the flicker of realization behind your eyes. Your posture straightens ever so slightly.

His eyes widen, and he quickly holds up both hands. “No. No – not like that.” His voice jumps a little higher than he meant it to.

Your lips press together, a small, amused line forming as you clearly try not to laugh.

Bucky groans quietly, rubbing a hand down his face. “Great,” he mutters. “Now I sound like a creep.”

“No, you don’t,” you say gently, and somehow that only makes the heat rise higher in his face.

He exhales sharply, then walks over to the island and sets his water bottle down. He leans against the counter, arms folded loosely over his chest.

“I’m gonna sound crazy either way, so I might as well just say it.”

You nod, encouraging but quiet, waiting.

“The first dream…I was laying in bed. A bed I didn’t recognize. And you were there next to me, with your…head on my chest. And your hand was holding onto my shirt, and your leg was over mine.” He paused and took a breath before continuing. “My real arm was around you, but my metal arm…it was my arm when I was the Winter Soldier.”

He glanced up at you, looking for a reaction, but you were just listening intently. So he swallows and continues.

“I freaked out. Scared I was gonna hurt you with the arm, since I was…y’know, him. But I couldn’t move. The dream wouldn’t let me. But then…you just nuzzled closer. You smiled and sighed, like you were content. Like you were safe.”

He looked back up at you, and this time, there was a little smile on your face. The same one from the dreams, which made him relax a little bit.

“The second one was the exact same. Except this time, you were on my left side. And my metal arm was around you. Still the Winter Soldier one. I was even more scared, worried that it was crushing you or that I’d hurt you. But again, I couldn’t move. But you just…curled into me again, like it was natural.”

You don’t speak, but your expression softens – eyebrows raised just enough, lips parted slightly like you want to ask something but don’t want to stop him.

“The third one was in a park I didn’t recognize. You were walking beside me, on my left again. And then you just…reached up and held my hand. The metal one. Still the Winter Soldier one. You didn’t flinch or hesitate. You just did it. Like you had before.”

Your gaze flicks to his arm for a second, then back to his face. Still, you stay quiet.

“And the last one,” he says, more quietly now, “was here. In the common room. Movie playing on the TV. You were next to me, wrapped in a blanket. You leaned on my metal soldier. The Winter Soldier one again. And I just…let it happen. I wasn’t scared. I didn’t panic. I felt…calm.”

He exhales, steadying himself. You still haven’t said anything, and he’s not sure if that’s better or worse.

“I told my therapist about them,” he admits, avoiding your eyes now, fiddling with the cap of his water bottle. “She thinks it’s my brain’s way of telling me that I deserve comfort. That I’ve earned peace after everything. That it’s okay to want something soft.”

There’s a long pause. Then he finally meets your gaze again.

“But I don’t know why it’s you in them.”

He doesn’t say it accusingly. It’s not a complaint. It’s a quiet confession – equal parts wonder and confusion. Like he’s still trying to solve a riddle his heart already understands.

And you’re still looking at him, a little wide-eyed, clearly surprised…but you’re smiling.

Not laughing. Not running.

Just smiling.

You don’t say anything at first.

Mostly because you’re still trying to take it all in.

Bucky Barnes – quiet, guarded, “I-don’t-do-feelings” Bucky Barnes – just told you he’s been dreaming about you. Four different times. And not nightmares or weird memory-warped missions, but soft, good dreams. Ones where you’re cuddling or holding his hand or doing…couple-y stuff.

You’re not sure what shocks you more: the fact that you’re in them, or the fact that he actually told you.

But he’s just standing there now, clearly uncomfortable, his arms crossed tight over his chest like he wants to disappear into the counter. His eyes won’t quite meet yours.

Still, you smile.

“Well…that’s new,” you say first. “But…I’m glad it’s me in them,” you say softly, voice steady. “Because you do deserve comfort. And for the record, I’m not scared of you. Or your metal arm. I’m really glad you told me.”

His eyes finally lift to yours, and even though his face doesn’t fully relax, you see the subtle flicker of relief behind his features.

“Thanks,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh...still feel kinda stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” you say, then pause before teasing lightly, “Just very bad at not looking like you’re panicking.”

That earns you the smallest smile.

You tilt your head, thinking back through what he said. “You said you didn’t recognize the bed? In the first two dreams?.”

He looks a little confused but nods. “Yeah.”

“What did it look like?”

He blinks, then shrugs, thinking. “Uh…light gray sheets. And it smelled like…vanilla.”

You blink. And then you laugh.

He looks startled. “What?”

“My sheets are gray,” you say, grinning now. “And everything I use – body wash, lotion, perfume – is vanilla-scented. Like, obnoxiously so.”

His eyebrows lift, and he actually laughs – soft and a little shy, but real.

“Oh,” he says, then clears his throat. “So, either my brain’s really good at guessing, or I’ve subconsciously memorized what you smell like.”

You pretend to consider that. “Creepy either way.”

His smile widens a bit, and he ducks his head. “Great.”

You nudge the snack bag toward him as a peace offering. “Guess you’re gonna have to keep dreaming about me now.”

He huffs a soft laugh, looking up at you through his lashes. “Yeah,” he says, quieter this time. “Maybe I will.”

And even though there's still a little awkwardness between you, it doesn't feel heavy anymore.

It feels...kind of nice. Like something new is starting to settle between the two of you – gentle, tentative, but warm.

And maybe that’s worth leaning into.

Fresh from the shower, your skin still slightly warm, you smooth the last bit of vanilla-scented lotion into your arms, the familiar scent wrapping around you like a soft blanket. You tug on your sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt – one of your comfiest – and run a hand through your damp hair as you walk over to your bed.

But you don’t get in.

You stop at the edge, eyes drifting over the crumpled gray sheets, the soft pillows, the blanket still a little twisted from the night before.

And all you can think about is Bucky.

He dreamed about this bed.

Your bed. Light gray sheets. Vanilla.

You tell yourself not to read into it. That maybe it didn’t mean anything. That maybe his brain just filled in blanks using details it picked up around the compound without him realizing it.

But you can’t shake the thought.

Can’t stop imagining him lying there – his broad frame stretched out under your blanket, arm around you, soft breathing in the dark. Not in a dream. Not in his head.

In real life.

You blink, startled by yourself.

Your eyebrows raise slightly, arms crossing over your chest as you frown down at the bed, telling yourself it’s time to get in.

Still, you don’t move.

You sigh, grabbing the edge of the blanket and pulling it back.

But you don’t climb in.

You just…stand there. Staring.

And then, before you can talk yourself out of it – before your brain has a chance to spiral or question – you’re moving. Feet on autopilot.

Your hand closes around the doorknob, and the next thing you know, you’re stepping quietly into the hallway. The air is cooler out here, the compound quiet and still. You don’t even stop to think about what you’re going to say when you get there.

You just start walking. Down the hall.

Toward Bucky’s room.

Bucky lay in bed, arms folded behind his head, eyes fixed on the ceiling. The room was dark and quiet, but his mind wouldn’t follow suit. Sleep hadn’t even crossed his mind yet – he was still replaying the conversation you two had in the kitchen, word for word. The way you smiled when he told you about the dreams. The surprise on your face. The way you’d said you were glad it was you. He could still hear your laugh when you told him his brain must be creepy or psychic.

It made something in his chest ache – in a good way, but still a little overwhelming.

So when a soft knock came at his door, he actually jumped. He wasn’t expecting anyone. Definitely not now, this late.

He swung his legs off the bed and crossed the room, cracking the door open.

And there you were.

Standing there with damp hair, dressed in sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt that hung loose over one shoulder. You looked like you were already halfway to bed – but your expression was uncertain, like you hadn’t fully thought this through.

“…Hi,” he said, confusion thick in his voice.

“Hi,” you echoed, a little hesitant.

He stared at you for a beat. “Uh…do you need something?”

You glanced up at him, then down again, then let out a small, anxious sigh. “Do you wanna sleep with me?”

Bucky’s eyes went wide.

His brain short-circuited.

You looked back up, saw his face, and your eyes went wide too, horror flooding your expression.

“No – no, not like that!” you blurted, already scrambling. “I didn’t – I mean I just thought maybe you’d…want to sleep in my room. Since you…y’know dreamed about my bed, I just thought maybe you’d want to do it.” Her eyes went even wider, which he didn’t think was possible. “Not do it, just – like – spend the night…in my room.”

You looked up at him again, face flushed with embarrassment, and honestly? You looked like you were about to turn and run.

But Bucky didn’t move. He blinked once. And then he laughed.

It started as a low chuckle, but it slipped out before he could stop it, shaking his head as he grinned down at the floor.

Your hand went to your forehead, covering your face as you laughed too, half in amusement, half in absolute mortification.

“Oh my God,” you groaned, voice muffled. “I should not have said any of that.”

But Bucky was still smiling.

You weren’t just asking for company. You were offering comfort. To him.

It was kind. And sweet. And, if he was being honest, a little brave.

“Yeah,” he said, cutting through your nervous laughter.

Your hand dropped from your forehead, eyes snapping up to meet his. “Really?”

He nodded once. “Yeah. I mean–” He scratched the back of his neck, still smiling. “If dreaming about it helps me sleep that good…I figure I might actually sleep even better if it’s real.”

You let out a soft breath – half-relief, half-surprise – and nodded. “Okay. Yeah. Cool.”

The two of you turned, heading down the hallway side by side in the quiet dim light.

After a beat, you glanced up at him. “I had no idea what I was gonna say when I knocked,” you admitted, still sounding a little breathless. “I completely butchered it.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Nah, it was memorable.”

“I walked up to your door and said, do you wanna sleep with me like I was reading off a bad rom-com script,” you deadpanned.

He grinned. “Hey, could’ve been worse. You didn’t add finger guns or a wink.”

You snorted. “Don’t tempt me, Barnes.”

He chuckled again, the sound low and easy in his chest. And somehow, walking beside you in sleepwear, both of you still recovering from the awkwardness, it didn’t feel weird or tense. Just…light.

And for the first time all night, Bucky wasn’t overthinking. He wasn’t questioning the dreams or spiraling over what they meant.

He was just walking beside you. And it felt good.

When you stepped into your room, the soft scent of vanilla hit him immediately – just like he remembered from the dream.

You walked over to the bed without hesitation and crawled in, pulling the covers back and settling under them. Bucky hesitated just a second longer, then followed.

He climbed in next to you, lying on his back. The mattress dipped under his weight, the blanket settled lightly over his chest. There was still a space between you – enough that he could feel the distance – but not enough to make it feel cold.

He stared up at the ceiling, heart beating a little faster than it probably needed to.

“…Wow,” he said quietly.

You turned your head, voice low. “What?”

He smiled, almost to himself. “This is…exactly like my dream.”

You let out a soft laugh, and he joined in, both of you breaking the tension just a little.

When he turned his head to look at you, you were already looking at him.

There was a long, quiet beat – one of those moments where neither of you really knew what came next, but neither of you wanted to move too fast either.

Then you started scooting closer. He watched you, surprised but not resisting, and when you were close enough, he lifted his flesh arm slightly – just enough of an invitation.

You curled up against him, warm and soft, resting your hand gently on his chest, your leg sliding over his like it belonged there.

He let out a slow breath, wrapping his arm around you, holding you there. Like it was natural. Like it had always been this way.

“…What about now?” you asked softly, voice muffled slightly against his t-shirt.

He looked down at you, heart squeezing tight in his chest. A small smile pulled at his lips.

“This is perfect,” he said.

You looked up at him, returning the smile – sleepy and sweet, like you were already half-relaxed just lying beside him.

And somehow, that smile of yours made something inside him go quiet in the best way.

No tension. Just peace.

You nestled in again, eyelids already heavy. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

“Goodnight,” he murmured, voice low, arm tightening around you just a little.

He stared at the ceiling for a while longer, your body warm against his side, the scent of vanilla in the air.

And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t dread falling asleep.

When it came, it came easy. And he fell asleep happy.

Masterlist

Author's Note: sorry for like falling off the face of the earth for a second there, I got busy😭 Part 2 of Darling and I Noticed and Part 3 of The New Winter Soldier will be coming at some point, I promise! Just wanted to give you guys something while I continue working on those!!

Bucky Taglist: @winchestert101 @herejustforbuckybarnes @avengemepercy @buckyslove1917 @nelachu2423 @iyskgd @navs-bhat @starstruckfirecat @yes-ilovetowrite @bonnyclydecat @knowingnothingnoel @muchwita @hanniebee33 @awesompawsum @knoxic @miss-chuchu @writtenbydianna @rnurse-kole @biaswreckedbybuckybarnes @beanzwritez @barnesandbouquets @buckysgirl-12 @butnotmontana

#bucky #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #marvel #avengers #avengers compound #the winter soldier

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clovermoters · 3 months ago

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flights and family - lando norris x wife!reader

summary - after an eventful first half of the season, a trip home is just what you and your family need to reset

warnings - nothing! some mentions of lando being overwhelmed due to the 2024 season, but other than that just fluff & kisses

authors note - haiii heres a josie fic i wrote while i was on a plane a couple months ago, i hope u enjoy <33 im trying to get back into the swing of writing so gimme reqs and ill try and get to them as quick as possible!! lots of love, clove!

apart of the josephine elliot norris chronicals

“babe wake up..” kisses flutter across your face, pulling you out of your peaceful sleep. you open your eyes to see your husband's emerald eyes overtop of you.

“we gots’ to go! its airport time in t-minus 1 hour“ he whispers, lightly pinching your bicep to spark your body awake.

“uuuggh what time is it?” you groan, rolling over to grab your phone, 3:46am. your flight boards at 6. You fall back into the duvet, eyes slowly closing as sleep reaches out to pull you under again.

“baby! up! i’ll get josie” he shouts through whisper, marching around your bedroom in his baby blue sweatpants and matching hoodie. You giggle, throwing the covers over, finally getting out of bed.

lando speeds down the hall towards your daughter's room, he creaks the door open into the room. dimly lit from the flower nightlight hung on the wall next to the pretty pink letters spelling josephine above the small pink race car bed. his daughter, a recent graduate to the race car bed, was curled up under her blankets sleeping softly.

lando lifts his daughter into his arms, the 3 year old stirring slightly, whining at the disturbance of her slumber.

“it’s just daddy,” he shushes, pushing the curls out of her face so he can see his own eyes looking back at him “you ready for the plane baby?” rolling the bright pink suitcase down to the front door where yours and his await along with your carry ons. The quiet babbles of your daughter chatting with him about her dream fill the quiet of the early morning.

monaco was rarely quiet, the city almost never sleeps. the peaceful blanket of calm reassurance, lando was sure today would go smoothly.

you just needed to be ready on time.

he loved you, his wife, the love of his life, mother of his child, number one supporter.

but my god your punctuality needed some work.

Just as if you heard his thoughts, you came bustling down the stairs with your bag in hand, sporting your light grey aritzia sweatsuit that Lando bought you as an early anniversary present.

“okay, i’m ready” you huff, blowing your hair that fell in front of your eyes. lando chuckles at your disheveled-ness while your daughter rests her head on his shoulder, quickly falling back to sleep.

you melt at the sight, smiling softly “she’ll be okay right?” you ask, it was josie’s first time flying, your husband rubbing her back before nodding

“Of course she well, she's so zonked she won't even realize we're in the air-” you chuckle “and I booked a jet. we couldn’t be more safe.” he assures you while handing you some suitcases to take to the uber that’s arriving downstairs.

“as long as we get to the airport on time” he jokes, giving your bum a light pat while you lock the door. You scoff at him playfully, even after being married for four years and having a child, Lando still has his ways to make you giggle like a teenager.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

making it through the airport was quick, josie had fallen asleep on lando in the car. Making the check in easy when you didn’t have a 3 year old asking every question imaginable. you and lando loved her imagination and curiosity, taking it as a small parenting win when you had the time and energy to answer those questions.

4:45am, however, is not the time to answer those questions

security was quiet, perks of flying early and in the middle of the week. the attendants recognized your little family letting you through the fast lane just for some entertainment, in the mist of the night.

the sun was just making its appearance over the horizon when you took off. Josie was curled up in landos lap, completely passed out.

“I can't wait to be home in London,” you say softly as you rest your head on your husband's shoulder, your gaze fixed on your little bundle of love whos sleeping in his lap

Lando hums, eyes fixed on his daughter who’s been subconsciously squeezing his fingers in her rem.

“yeah, i can’t wait to see my parents” he adds “i made max pick us up so we can surprise them at breakfast”

one week ago, you and your husband made an impromptu decision to drop everything and take a trip home. You both have been overly stressed and it was taking a toll on the two of you. Lando has been at the fighting front of the championship for months while you have been juggling being a first time mother and handling your own responsibilities at work.

it all came to a breaking point when lando had broken down after coming home from a tough race weekend. frustrated with the results, the pressure and overall the backlash from outsiders, had him sobbing in your arms the minute he walked through the door. soon after you both came to the realization that you needed some well deserved rest and relaxation during the summer break.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“ahh they’re they are!” Max shouts from the car when he spots you two, earning a glare from you, pointing to the girl still sleeping soundly in landos arms.

“Whoops, sorry!” He sucks in a breath through his teeth. helping you load the bags into the boot while Lando secures Josie in her car seat. You always thought fatherhood was so beautiful on him, you fall in love with him all over again seeing the way he was with josie. only proving to you that this was something he was meant to do.

The London streets were still quiet, the faded radio music providing a background as you and Lando chatted with Max, catching up while he navigated through the city towards landos childhood home.

When you arrived, you took Josie in your arms trying to wake her so she could greet her grandparents properly.

the girl stirred in your arms, mumbling incoherent words into your neck and lando giggling from behind you, watching the girl wake. you always loved watching him with josie, the man adored his daughter. from the moment she was born she had him wrapping around her finger the very second he saw his own eyes staring back at him.

“hi baby girl wanna go say hi to nana and pop?” he asked, that perked Josie up. The toddler always got excited at the mention of her grandparents.

“ya i’m gonna giv’ them a biiig hug” she mumbled still half asleep, lifting her head from your shoulder while showing a toothy smile to her father. You and your husband break out into a fit of giggles.

The sweet smell of eggs, bacon and delicious pastries engulfed the inside of the Norris family home. you and lando feel yourself physically relax at the thought of ciscas home cooked brunch.

soft music came from the kitchen as the distant voices of landos family traveled throughout the home. Providing a lighthouse to the kitchen, the light at the end of a tunnel that you and lando so desperately were waiting for.

you place josie down, allowing her to walk ahead of you and lando, the girl running into the kitchen, turning to see the girl, cisca halts her movements, gasping at her granddaughter, who she knew lived in monaco.

“well what are you doing here missy?” the woman asks, alerting the rest of the Norris family of their unexpected guest. you and lando take that as the signal to turn the corner, smiling ear to ear with your hands interlocked, the shocked faces of the norris family say enough that your surprise was a success

“surprise!”

The room erupted into cheers from the Norris family, moving to give you all hugs. Josie giggling as her grandma picks her up, attacking her cheeks with kisses.

You greet landos sisters and parents, squeezing your sister in-laws while Lando hugs his brother and his wife.

“what brings your three here?” landos father, adam asks while giving his son a hug, flo begins setting three extra place mats on the dining table for you as josie is in a very in depth conversation with her grandma.

“monaco was getting too much so we wanted to spend some time home before the break ends..” lando explained, simply. pressing a kiss to your temple before moving to hug his mum, you watch as he melts slightly into the embrace, tucking his head inside her neck the same way he does with you.

Cisca places a kiss on your check when she hugs you “you go settle in upstairs, breakfast will be ready soon, you must be exhausted”

You both sink into the mattress, letting out a sigh of relief.

“I am so happy we came,” Lando breathes, rolling over to look at you with that loving smile on his face that gives you butterflies, the morning sun hitting his face just perfectly, casting a gentle glow over his gorgeous features. You smile softly up at him reaching out gently to scratch the light stubble he's grown.

“I'm so happy we came too my love”

He lightly pecks your lips before the door bursts open, in walks Josie with Mila hot on her heels. The two cousins hopping on the bed before josie lightly jumps on her fathers stomach, causing lando to let out a quiet “oomf-”

“Nana told us to come get you because brekkie is ready!” Mila said before hopping off the bed and running out the room, Josie tries to wiggle out of landos arms but he squeezes her tighter, placing kisses all over her face. The girl giggling at her father

“Oh no you don't missy!” he says

“dada let me go!” she shouts through a string of giggles and squeals.

You three make your way downstairs, joining your family at the table. The conversation flows effortlessly as you fill your tummy with ciscas delicious spread of food. You and Lando make eye contact from the opposite sides of josie who sat between you two, landos eyes were filled with nothing but love as you smiled softly back at the love of your life, a silent agreement that this trip was just what your family needed.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

all doneee thank u so much for reading!!

#lando norris fanfic #ln4 #lando x reader #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #lando norris #f1 x reader #lando fluff #lando norris fic #lando norris fluff #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #lando imagine #dad lando norris #holy moly

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hyuckiefluff · 2 months ago

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MOONSTRUCK | p. jisung

pairing: werewolf!hufflepuff! jisung x hufflepuff!fem. reader genre: best friends to lovers, hogwarts/supernatural au, angst, smut. wc: 18.3k+ summary: after a cruel prank leaves jisung cursed, he withdraws from everyone—including you, his closest friend. but secrets can't stay hidden forever, and when a full moon pulls you into the darkness he's tried so desperately to conceal, there's no going back. content warnings: werewolf lore & transformation, drug usage, rut/mating behavior, rough sex, biting/marking, mild breeding kink, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, knotting, bulge kink, mentions of bruising & blood, mild body horror, brief medical talk (contraceptive), aftercare. lmk if i missed any! a/n: nearly a month in the making and i can finally say i’m satisfied enough to post this lol. i’m actually really happy with how it turned out—and i finally got to write about werewolves, which has been on my list forever. canonically, werewolves in the HP universe (and most lore tbh) are dangerous nocturnal creatures and primarily bloodthirsty. but for this fic, i took a step away from that and leaned into the rut aspect instead because why not ;) pls don’t judge the cover, i had picsart and a dream lol. btw moonstruck by enhypen and nda by billie eilish are two songs u should listen to while reading this!

ps: i don’t know why i was under the assumption that everyone knows hp terms but i realized that is not the case after my mark fic 😭 so even though i didn’t use too many obscure ones here, here’s a little reference guide just in case: legilimens– someone who can read minds or emotions squib– a non-magical person born into a magical family (in this fic, it’s thrown around more like calling someone useless/coward) wolfsbane– a potion that allows werewolves to keep their mind during a full moon; in hp lore they still transform, but in this fic it's not a full transformation. feel free to message me if anything else was confusing! happy reading<3

You didn’t expect your seventh year at Hogwarts to feel like grieving someone who was still alive.

Three months ago, Park Jisung was still your best friend. Now, he can’t even stand being near you.

The suddenness of this change was something you couldn’t wrap around your head. But things don’t always fall apart all at once. Sometimes they drift until you’re left staring across a room at someone who used to know everything about you and wondering when they became a stranger.

He was the very first friend you made at Hogwarts. You remember how he barely spoke to anyone, and you sat next to him in Transfiguration class just because there was an empty seat. You charmed your quill into a frog that wouldn’t stop croaking, and when he finally cracked a smile, it felt like you’d won something important.

He was awkward and soft-spoken, unsure of himself in the way most boys are before they grow into their limbs. But you liked him instantly. Probably because he liked the same books as you, or because he never made fun of you for being nervous on a broom.

He even held your hand during your first flying lesson, hovering near you the whole time so you wouldn’t be scared. Years later, you found out he was just as scared of heights as you were and only pretended not to be to make you feel safe.

By fifth year, you spent so much time together that you could finish each other’s sentences. By sixth, you were bringing blankets to the highest tower in the castle and naming stars until you both fell asleep mid conversation. There wasn’t a single version of your life in Hogwarts that didn’t include him.

You thought seventh year would be just like that….

You were wrong.

After a summer of sending each other daily letters, pages and pages of thoughts, jokes, and half-sincere promises to never grow up, you returned to school thinking nothing could change.

And at first, it didn’t.

You walked to classes together, fell asleep with your legs tangled on the same couch, pretending not to hear the way people whispered about it the next morning, and snuck out of the common room after curfew not caring that you’d get caught.

The Astronomy Tower was your favorite place, you discovered how pretty it looked at night in your third year.

It was quiet that evening, the wind tugging at your robes as you leaned over the battlement. Jisung set down the little paper packet he’d smuggled from the kitchens—honey biscuits, still warm—and nudged it toward you.

“Payment for helping with my Potions homework,” he said, trying to be casual, though the tips of his ears were already pink.

You laughed and took one, bumping his shoulder with yours. “You’d owe me a whole bakery if this were the price.”

He smiled softly. The moonlight caught in his hair, and for a second you forgot the chill entirely.

“Close your eyes,” he said suddenly.

You arched an eyebrow but obeyed. Something light, wool‑soft, was placed around your shoulders. You opened your eyes to find a black‑and‑yellow scarf wrapped there, smelling faintly of cedarwood soap and parchment ink—purely, unmistakably Jisung.

“Did you make this?” you asked, caressing the soft fabric.

“Erm… yeah, you lost yours and it’s starting to get cold outside.” He mumbled, eyes on his shoes. “I couldn’t have my star‑chart partner freeze.”

You swallowed a reply that felt too big, and instead reached for his hand where it rested on the stone ledge. Your fingers threaded with his, easy as blinking. He stiffened for a second then squeezed back. When you looked up, his gaze was already fixed on you, wide and bright, as though the whole sky were reflected there instead of above your heads.

Neither of you moved for a long while. Orion wheeled overhead, the biscuits cooled, and the castle bells tolled curfew far below. But the only thing you really noticed was the warmth of his palm against yours, and the way your heart tripped every time he glanced your way and smiled shyly.

You learned just how soft‑hearted Jisung was that day on the Astronomy Tower.

Which is why, a few weeks into seventh year, it struck you as utterly wrong when rumors reached you that he’d been seen tagging along behind Lee Seungmin. Seungmin was everything Jisung wasn’t—loud, sharp‑tongued, the sort of Slytherin who thought shoving first‑years into suits of armor was a hobby and swapping curse ingredients under the table was a joke. He hexed quills to peck at classmates and bragged about detentions like they were trophies.

Jisung, by contrast, apologized when he bumped into someone and brought extra quills for anyone who forgot theirs. He flinched at raised voices and fed the barn owls after hours because he worried they were lonely.

So hearing his name linked with Seungmin’s felt like hearing that rain was falling upward. At first you laughed it off, because surely someone must have mixed him up with another quiet Hufflepuff. But then Jisung started arriving late to meals, dodging your study sessions, mumbling vague excuses you’d never heard from him before.

That was when you realized the rumor wasn’t a mistake—and that something was very, very wrong.

Seventh Year

September settled over the castle in a bright rush of golden leaves and new parchment, and for a while everything felt the way it always had. You and Jisung were crossing the courtyard—still laughing about his theory that Professor Lockhart polished his hair with Mrs. Skower’s Extra‑Shine—when a voice cut through the chatter behind you.

“Oi, Park!”

You both turned. Lee Seungmin jogged toward you, grinning widelys. You didn’t bother hiding your sigh.

“Still on for tonight?” he asked, dropping his voice as he leaned in toward Jisung.

“I’m not sure. I’ve got a Potions essay to finish.” Jisung shifted akwardly.

Seungmin smacked him on the back, too hard to be friendly. “Come on, you’ve bailed twice already.”

You stepped forward, folding your arms. “Don’t you have that same essay, Seungmin? It’s half the term grade.”

He turned, as if noticing you for the first time and smirked “Why bother? Snape’s going to fail me anyway.”

“Typical,” you muttered.

“I’ll let you know later,” Jisung said quickly, cutting between you before another jab could leave your mouth.

Seungmin’s gaze lingered on you, faintly mocking, before he turned away with a humorless laugh. “Sure thing, Park.”

The moment he was out of earshot you exhaled. “Since when are you and Seungmin… close?”

“We’re not,” Jisung said, scratching at the back of his neck. “He just hangs around sometimes.”

You searched his face. “You two have nothing in common.”

“It isn’t a big deal,” he insisted, but the laugh that followed sounded fake.

“It is if you’re sneaking off with someone like him,” you said, sharper than you meant to, but the worry was too much to hide.

Jisung’s gaze dropped to his shoes. “I didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”

You didn’t say anything after that. You just walked the rest of the way to class in silence with a sense of unease settling on your chest.

That was when the distance began to show.

First, he started seating two rows over in Charms, smiling apologetically whenever you glanced his way but never moving back. He stopped leaving crooked little jokes on the margins of your Transfiguration notes or looking at you and trying not to laugh whenever Professor Lockhart messed up a spell.

He still spoke to you, yet every conversation felt stitched together, as if he were acting out a script. One afternoon you finally asked, “Are we all right?” He nodded so quickly you had a hard time believing it.

The next time you saw him with Seungmin it was well past curfew.

You had just left the library after wrestling Arithmancy proofs and stopped short as soon as you rounded the corner near the dungeon stairs. There was Seungmin leaning against the wall and Jisung half‑turned away, both speaking in low murmurs. You caught only fragments of Seungmin’s lazy drawl and Jisung’s tight replies. Then Seungmin laughed sharply, and your best friend flinched as though struck.

Your loud footsteps made both of their heads snap up.

“Y/N,” Jisung blurted, striding toward you as if to block your view. “Why are you out so late?”

“I could ask you the same.” You said arching a brow.

Behind him, Seungmin offered a thin grin before slipping down the stairs into the darkness of the dungeons.

Jisung pressed a hand to his eyes. “I was heading back to the dorm.”

“What did he want?”

“He—” Jisung’s voice faltered and for a heartbeat you saw the words gather behind his lips but he swallowed them down. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?” Your voice cracked on the word. “Come on, Ji.”

“I’m just tired,” he whispered. “Can we talk tomorrow?”

Silence pooled between you, at last you forced a smile neither of you believed. “All right. Tomorrow.”

But tomorrow never arrived—at least, not the kind where he told you what was wrong.

Because the next day Jisung never came to class at all.

Two whole days slid by without a glimpse of him and you were so on edge you kept glancing over your shoulder, half‑expecting his soft voice behind you. Or hoping he might walk into the library with that shy lopsided smile, asking if you had spare parchment which he always ran out of because his handwriting was too big and messy.

But he wasn’t anywhere, and no one seemed willing to notice besides you.

By lunch on the second day you couldn’t keep silent. Renjun was halfway through a Honeydukes bar, mumbling that chocolate boosted cognitive function, when you leaned across the table and murmured, “Do you know what’s going on with Jisung?”

He froze mid‑bite. “What?”

“Renjun,” you said, low and tight, “you know he hasn’t been to class, or in the common room. He isn’t anywhere.”

“I thought he was sick,” Renjun offered with a shrug that felt rehearsed.

“He isn’t in the hospital wing, and he hasn’t answered any of my owls.”

A flicker of something, maybe guilt, crossed his face. “Maybe he just… needs space?”

Your gaze sharpened. “Did something happen?”

“No,” he blurted too fast. “No, not that I know of.”

“Renjun.”

“I swear, I don’t know.” He wouldn’t meet your eyes. That was answer enough, but you let it drop for now.

That evening, heading back from a prefect meeting, you passed the hidden entrance to the Slytherin common room and heard voices up the corridor.

You weren’t trying to eavesdrop—until one word snapped you still.

“Jisung.”

“Snape got to him before—”

“—thought he was going to die, mate—”

“—Seungmin won’t shut up, keeps saying it wasn’t meant to go that far—”

A rush of blood pounded in your ears as you picked up bits of the hushed conversation. You edged closer and caught sight of Jay and Niki—Seungmin’s friends—half hidden in the shadows, whispering behind cupped hands.

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides. Your thoughts finally being confirmed; Something happened to Jisung and Seungmin was at the heart of it.

You didn’t sleep a minute that night. Every time you shut your eyes, the conversation replayed in your head until dawn bled through the curtains and you were already out of bed, fury keeping you upright.

You found Seungmin loitering outside the Great Hall, laughing too loudly at something Jay and Niki had said. You crossed the marble floor without a second thought.

“Where is he?”

The smile slipped from Seungmin’s face. He cocked his head, all polite confusion. “Sorry, where’s who?”

“Drop the act,” you said, stepping close enough that he had to tilt his chin to keep eye contact. “I heard your lackeys talking last night. Where’s Jisung?”

Jay and Niki exchanged a look but said nothing..

Seungmin gave a thin, brittle laugh. “You’re hearing ghosts, sweetheart. Why would I bother with Park?”

“A better question,” you started, voice cold, “is why you’ve been so attached to him lately. You don’t exactly run in the same circles, so what did you talk him into?”

Something sharpened in Seungmin’s eyes and he leaned in by a fraction. “Careful with what you’re accusing me of.”

“Or what?” You didn’t move. “You’ll do to me what you did to him?”

For a heartbeat his mask slipped, just long enough to confirm you’d scored a direct hit.

“I didn’t touch him,” he said, almost gently. “Whatever mess Park’s in? He walked into it himself”

“Liar.”

He dipped his head, a mock‑sympathetic smile curling at his mouth. “You think you know him so well, huh? Ever think that maybe he finally got tired of you shadowing him like a needy bitc—”

Your wand was at his throat before the last word finished leaving his lips. The corridor went silent except for your breathing.

“You know nothing about us,” you said, voice shaking with contained fury. “If he’s hurt, I’ll make sure everyone here knows exactly whose fault it is.”

Seungmin’s gaze flicked to the tip of your wand, then back to your face. A slow, poisonous smile spread. “Ask too many questions, Y/N, and you might choke on the answers.”

He stepped back with his hands raised in surrender, and strolled away. Jay and Niki followed in uneasy silence. You lowered your wand, fingers trembling with adrenaline.

His parting smile told you everything about his involvement. But you still didn’t have clear answers.

So you went to seek the other person allegedly involved. Snape.

When you descended into the dungeons, the silence was immediate and unnatural. No one ever came this far during free periods; only Professor Snape’s office existed at the end of this corridor, buried deep in the coldest, most isolated part of the castle.

Faint green flames floated midair along the walls, suspended in enchanted sconces that made no sound and cast no warmth. They pulsed gently, like breathing, and their glow warped the stone around them, making the shadows twist in ways that defied logic.

You hated it down here. Even now, in your seventh year, walking this corridor alone made your heart thud against your ribs like it wanted you to turn back.

But you were desperate.

Snape looked up slowly when you stepped into his office without knocking, his quill pausing mid-sentence on the parchment. His expression went from mildly irritated to coldly displeased in an instant.

“Is knocking a forgotten concept these days?” he said dryly.

“Professor,” you began quickly, not even trying to hide the urgency in your voice. “I need to talk to you.”

Snape set down his quill, arching a single eyebrow. “Then I suggest you start talking, and make it quick.”

You swallowed. “It’s about Jisung… Park Jisung. He’s been missing for days, and no one seems to know anything. Or at least, they’re pretending they don’t.”

His gaze sharpened and for a second, you thought you saw a flicker of caution behind his eyes before he quickly masked it.

“I fail to see why you’re bringing this to me,” he said coolly, leaning back in his chair. “Missing students are a matter for the headmaster.”

“Don’t,” you snapped before you could stop yourself. Snape’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but you pressed forward anyway. “I overheard some students talking. They mentioned your name…said you found Jisung somewhere. Something happened to him, didn’t it?”

Snape’s eyes flashed briefly. “And you believe the idle gossip of students because…?”

“Jisung wouldn’t just disappear on his own like that. I know something happened to him,” you shot back, voice shaking. “And I believe you know exactly what.”

He watched you silently for a moment. You could feel him weighing something behind his guarded stare. Finally, he exhaled sharply.

“Miss Y/N,” he began slowly, voice heavy with thinly veiled warning, “there are things within these castle walls and beyond them that you are better off not knowing.”

“That’s not your choice to make,” you said immediately.

“On the contrary,” he replied calmly. “It is precisely my choice. And you will do well to remember that.”

Your fists clenched at your sides, frustration prickling hot behind your eyes. “Professor, please. Jisung’s my best friend. If he’s hurt… if something’s happened… I need to know.”

Something shifted in Snape’s expression at your words, almost looked like regret. When he spoke, his voice was almost gentle, which frightened you more than his scorn.

“Sometimes the worst harm you can do to someone is to keep prying.”

He paused, holding your gaze steadily. “Park is alive. That is all you need to know. Now leave.”

You stood frozen for a second, his words sinking in painfully. Jisung was alive—yet somehow, that felt worse. It meant something had happened… Something terrible.

Your jaw tightened. “You can’t keep this hidden forever,” you whispered fiercely.

He leaned forward, eyes piercing yours in the darkness of the room.

“We’ll see.”

You turned away, storming from his office without looking back. Snape hadn’t denied anything which meant there’d definitely been an incident and it was serious enough that Jisung couldn’t be seen right now. He was alive, but he was hurt, and whatever happened to him was being deliberately hidden.

A few days later

The day started like any other.

You pushed cold eggs across your plate, half listening to Renjun’s gentle attempts at conversation while the Great Hall hummed as if a student hadn’t been missing for a week. But suddenly, a hush rolled through the room.

You felt Renjun touch your arm.

“Y/N.”

You looked up, and followed his gaze toward the doors. The breath caught in your throat.

Jisung was standing just inside the oak doors.

He was bent at the shoulders, eyes flicking over the Hall as if he didn’t remember ever being there before. His robes hung wrinkled and loose and there were red scratches carved along his neck and cheek. He was paler than before and the shadows beneath his eyes made him look years older than when you’d last seen him.

Without greeting anyone, he drifted to the far end of the Hufflepuff table nowhere near his usual seat beside you.

You were on your feet before the thought finished forming.

Renjun caught your wrist. “Y/N, maybe wait—”

You shook him off and crossed the hall, every step echoing in the sudden quiet.

“Jisung?”

He flinched but kept his gaze on the empty plate. “Not now, Y/N.”

“You’ve been gone a week,” you whispered, voice trembling. “I was so worried—”

“I said not now.” The snap in his voice was sharp enough to cut. He glanced up and the terror in his eyes chilled you to the bone.

You reached for him, but he stood so abruptly your balance faltered. Without another word he strode the length of the hall and disappeared through the doors, leaving a silence that seemed to bend the rafters.

You stood frozen, heat flushing your face as dozens of eyes slid away. Renjun appeared at your elbow and talked softly. “Let him breathe.”

You nodded, though the emptiness in your chest insisted otherwise.

Jisung returned to lessons, but only in body. He answered professors in one‑word murmurs and offered classmates strained smiles that meant please don’t talk to me. At meals he sat alone, two yards of empty bench marking the space where laughter used to live.

He moved faster when he saw you in the corridors. He no longer waited outside classrooms or drifted toward your chair in the library. His robes hung loose as if he’d lost weight along with sleep, and his hands shook whenever he raised his wand. Sometimes you caught him staring through stone walls at something only he could see.

You tried with soft hellos in the common room, and owls folded with careful questions but every attempt slid off the wall he’d built overnight. The harder you reached, the farther he retreated, until all that remained between you was silence and the memory of how easily you’d once shared the same breath.

2 days later

Jisung sat on the edge of his bed, head buried in his shaking hands. His palms were marked with crescent-shaped indentations from how hard he was clenching his fists.

He kept hearing it.

The snap of branches in pitch-black darkness. The sickening crunch of claws sinking into damp earth. The guttural snarl vibrating through his bones moments before razor-sharp teeth pierced his shoulder. The thick warmth of blood soaking through his robes.

Sometimes it came to him in dreams. Other times, he’d be awake, in class, or walking down the corridor. A sound, or a smell and he was back in the forest.

Snape had said the wolfsbane would help and it had in a way. At least, it kept the full transformation at bay. But it didn’t stop the memories, it didn’t quiet the noise in his head.

His senses were too sharp now, every creak of the floorboards, every flicker of candlelight, every rustle of parchment felt louder. Sometimes he thought he could hear people’s heartbeats, smell their sweat before they entered a room. His insides constantly felt overwhelmed with unbearable energy. He felt trapped in his own skin, moments away from tearing free of himself. Sometimes he felt too much, and other times… he felt nothing at all.

Worst of all, though, was you.

He couldn't stand to be near you anymore. Not because he didn't want to, but because your scent now stirred something dangerous within him. It made his chest ache unbearably, tightened his throat with longing and thirst.

A part of him urged him to get far away from you. But another darker, more primal part whispered the opposite… to scent you, to sink into you, to lose control entirely. But he refused to drag you into his nightmare. He wouldn't allow it, no matter how much it tore at him.

He could remember most of what led him into the forest, up to a certain point.

He remembers Seungmin saying he wanted to hang out and they met near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where one of the slytherins handed out something called shadeleaf. It was an iridescent petal folded into itself like a capsule. Illegal, of course. Banned by the ministry for its hallucinogenic properties and its tendency to react differently based on magical affinity.

Jisung didn't even know why he was there. This wasn’t his scene at all. The guys were drinking something out of a flask that smelled like burnt sugar and smoke. Jay was lighting up a rolled spell-scroll with charmed embers. Niki already looked half out of it, eyes glazed.

When Seungmin started showing an interest in him a few weeks ago, Jisung had been flattered. He'd only ever made two close friends at Hogwarts, so someone new noticing him felt good. That was the only reason he went along with him. He wanted to be accepted.

“Is it safe?” Jisung asked nervously.

“Come on, park,” Niki chuckled, placing a shimmering petal on his tongue. “Don’t be a Squib.”

“What's the worst that could happen?” Seungmin grinned, handing one to him. “You trip a bit? See some weird shit? Wake up with a headache?”

Jisung hesitated, staring at the thing in his palm. It pulsed faintly with a color he didn’t have a name for.

He didn't want to do it, but they were all watching him. So he took it.

The effects hit almost instantly. His vision went fuzzy first; he could only see edges warping and light bending at impossible angles. Then his tongue tingled and throbbed, and his body felt too hot.

“Shit, this is strong,” Jay laughed.

“It’s not that bad,” Seungmin said, puffing from the smoldering scroll between his fingers.

None of them looked as affected as Jisung.

"Come on, Park," Seungmin said, draping an arm casually yet firmly around Jisung’s shoulders. "There’s a spot a little deeper in. We hang out there all the time."

Jisung couldn’t hear properly anymore, everything sounded underwater. He followed anyway.

He couldn’t say how long they walked. It felt like hours, though in reality it was probably mere minutes before his knees gave out, sending him sprawling onto the cold forest floor. His head spun violently, vision fractured.

He tried to speak, to call out but his voice didn't work, the forest blurring darker and darker until only silence and blackness swallowed him whole. He didn’t know when they left him. Just that at some point, he was alone.

The last thing he remembers was seeing bright, yellow eyes and feeling immense pain…

He woke up choking on his own blood.

His body jerked violently, lungs burning as he struggled to take in air. He felt strong hands grip his shoulders, pulling him upright with urgency. Through blurry, half-open eyes, he caught the outline of a wand glowing faintly in the dark. He barely recognized the familiar cadence of Professor Snape’s voice echoing through the haze.

“Park… Can you hear me?” Snape’s voice was clipped, edged with tension he’d never heard before.

Jisung managed only a strangled groan. He couldn’t speak, his throat was raw, filled with the metallic tang of blood. Breathing felt impossible, each gasp shallow and painful, as if his lungs were full of lead. He felt wetness soaking through his clothes and pooling beneath him. He didn't know if it was sweat or blood. Probably both, his clouded mind whispered darkly.

He was certain of only one thing—he was going to die here.

“You’ve been attacked,” Snape explained urgently, casting quick charms that rippled warmly across Jisung’s battered body. “I need you to remain as still as possible while I attempt to slow the bleeding.”

The word attacked echoed faintly in Jisung’s mind. Attacked by what? His thoughts swirled sluggishly. He couldn’t focus enough to piece anything together.

Snape pressed a small vial to his lips. The Hufflepuff hesitated, eyes flickering up weakly, his question dying soundlessly on cracked lips.

Snape seemed to understand instantly. “It’s Wolfsbane.”

The word crashed over Jisung with crushing weight, his mind snapping painfully back to clarity. Wolfsbane. A potion for…

His stomach twisted violently, nausea gripping him as realization cut sharply through the fog in his mind.

He’d been attacked by a werewolf.

It felt impossible. He wanted to deny it, wanted to believe it was just some twisted nightmare brought on by the drugs he’d foolishly taken. But the pain burning through his shoulder and the dark, grim expression on Snape’s face all made denial impossible.

With trembling lips, Jisung allowed Snape to tip the bitter potion into his mouth, grimacing weakly as he forced himself to swallow it down. It tasted vile but he had no energy left to protest.

He collapsed back against the cold forest floor, limbs heavy, vision fading once more as Snape continued muttering charms, trying to keep him tethered to consciousness.

“Stay with me, Park,” Snape’s voice commanded, sharp but oddly comforting. “You’re not going to die tonight.”

But Jisung wasn’t sure he believed him.

The darkness rushed back in, heavy and thick, pulling him under again as Snape’s frantic movements blurred and faded away.

His memory is fuzzy from then on.

One moment he was lying in the dirt, blood soaking the ground beneath him. The next, he was being levitated through narrow hallways, his body wrapped in magic and warding charms.

The room was dark, except for a wandlight hovering near the ceiling. He was placed on a dusty mattress on the floor. His skin felt stiff with blood, every muscle felt like it had been peeled apart and sewn back together with barbed wire.

He recognized the Shrieking Shack from an article he’d read once about the most haunted places on Earth. That’s where they were right now.

The shack was colder than he imagined. This was the place they used to tell ghost stories about in the common room. The place kids dared each other to peek into on Hogsmeade weekends. It smelled like old wood and dust. Snape moved through it like he’d been here before—like this was routine.

He cast a dozen silent spells before even speaking. Layers of enchantments wrapped around the rotting floorboards, the shattered furniture, the warped windows.

“You must take this Wolfsbane every day,” Snape said curtly, setting a tray on the floor beside the creaking mattress. “Or I’ll force it down your throat.”

Jisung didn’t answer. Snape paused, studying him with that unreadable stare.

“You’ll stay here until the full moon passes,” he said. “You’ll say nothing when you return.”

Jisung blinked slowly, the weight of it sinking into his bones. ‘When you return… or If’.

Then Snape turned to go but he stopped in the doorway.

“You are not the first,” he said, voice low. “It will be painful but you’ll survive.”

And with that, he was gone.

The silence was the most unbearable part of being in the Shack. Not even the pain or the way Jisung’s bones ached like they were preparing to snap apart. It was the silence that made him feel like he’d go crazy any minute.

He tried to sleep, but whenever he tried he’d blink awake to phantom sensations of fur brushing his skin, fangs pushing against his teeth, and a sweet scent of honey curling through the cracks in the floorboards.

It wasn’t the full moon yet but his body was already responding to it. The Wolfsbane kept him from changing completely, but it didn’t stop everything. His skin itched as if it was being stretched and he realized he’d grown a few inches taller overnight. His eyes were also becoming sensitive to even the faintest flickers of light, and they were a dark shade of yellow that glowed whenever the moonlight hit them.

It might’ve been on the second night or the third, he couldn’t remember well, but Snape came in and told him that the full moon would be at its peak and he would feel the effects more despite the potion.

Jisung lasted about two hours before the pain began. It wasn’t sudden. It crept in slowly, like frostbite, numbing his fingers first. Then his wrists and his legs. He thought maybe this was it—maybe he’d just fade out before anything happened. Then it spread up his spine and into his skull, where it bloomed behind his eyes like fire.

The pain was so much bigger than his body. It burned and it shredded him, as if his bones were being broken and rebuilt at the same time, like his skin wasn’t big enough to hold him anymore. He scratched at his own arms until his nails cracked and bled. It got so unbearable he slammed his head against the wall hoping he would knock himself out but he couldn’t.

He clawed at the walls, tore at the floorboards and bit into the wood until his mouth filled with splinters and blood. He howled until his throat tore raw. And still, it didn’t stop

He lost count of how many times his limbs broke and reformed. His jaw cracked open so wide he thought it might dislocate, teeth pushing through bloody gums. He was sobbing or at least, he thought he was. It was hard to tell over the sound of his own growling.

The transformation stopped halfway and started again the next day. He never fully transformed but he felt the pain of his body trying to fight against it every single time.

He stopped counting days after that.

Hunger and exhaustion tangled with grief and fear until all that was left was the throb of his body and the steady hum of magic in his blood. He didn’t think about the pain anymore. Or the bite. Or Seungmin. Or the forest.

Mostly, he thought about you.

He tried not to, but you wouldn’t leave him. Your face, your laugh, your voice, it all circled him like the moonlight through the slats in the wall.

The way the thought of you made his body burn now.The way your honeyed scent used to be comforting but now made his lungs tighten and his mouth water. He didn’t understand why he was feeling this way.

On the seventh day he woke up soaked in sweat, shivering uncontrollably. The moon had passed. He could feel it in the way the ache in his bones was retreating and his mind was clearer.

Snape arrived at dawn.

He said nothing about the mess of blood and broken furniture in the room. He just studied Jisung who was sitting slumped against the wall. He pulled out his wand and started casting diagnostic spells over his body.

“You’ll return to class tomorrow,” he said. “If anyone asks, you were ill.”

Jisung didn’t move.

Snape continued impassively. “You are not to mention the Wolfsbane, the forest, or what you’ve become. Do you understand?”

Jisung finally looked at him, barely able to lift his head properly. “That’s it? Just… go back like nothing happened?” His voice came out hoarse.

Snape’s eyes narrowed faintly. “No. That is not it.”

He stepped closer.

“You will take your potion every cycle, no matter what. And you will not seek out the other boys involved, nor will you retaliate.”

Jisung’s jaw clenched. He wanted nothing more than to rip Seungmin’s throat apart, but he knew that was just the wolf thinking.

“And most importantly, you will stay away from her.” Snape said, his voice dropping at the last word.

Jisung sat up sharply, knowing exactly who he was referring to. “Why?”

The professor’s expression didn’t soften. “Because the wolf doesn’t care that she’s your friend. It doesn’t care about boundaries or guilt or decency. It responds to need.”

Jisung’s chest tightened, throat dry.

“The first few transformations are the worst,” Snape continued, pacing slowly now. “Your body hasn’t adjusted. Your instincts haven’t aligned with your mind. You will feel urges…violent, territorial, carnal urges that you can’t control. Those urges will turn into fixations... Especially for someone you already had feelings for”

“I don’t–” Jisung started.

“You don’t need to lie, Mr. Park.” Snape cut him off, “I am a very skilled Legilimens, you know? I can see your mind and I see how it’s filled with thoughts of her.”

Jisung looked away, jaw trembling slightly. Snape stopped in front of him.

“Her scent” he said quietly. “It already triggers you, doesn’t it?”

Jisung didn’t answer. That sweet scent of honey and parchment that he kept smelling through the rotting floors and the dried blood, he figured out it was you. It reminded him of that night at the Astronomy tower.The Shrieking Shack might be a few miles away from Hogwarts castle but he could still somehow smell you.

“You feel it in your chest, in your teeth, in your gut” Snape said, voice like a scalpel. “You want her.”

Jisung’s breathing picked up.

“That is the beginning of your rut.”

“Rut?” he repeated, barely above a whisper.

Snape nodded. “It’s a biological response. Wolves enter a heightened state after the full moon cycle. Some experience it more than others, especially younger ones who’ve recently turned”

Jisung’s heart was pounding now, nauseatingly fast.

“You may feel sudden impulses or worse you might want to act on those impulses.”

He felt sick. “I’m not— I would never hurt her.”

“I’m not concerned about your intentions,” Snape said coldly. “I’m concerned about your self control. A werewolf’s instincts are hard to resist and if you lose control, Mr. Park… She will pay the price.”

“So stay away from her,” Snape said with finality. “It’s the only way to keep you both safe.”

Jisung sat there shaking, the weight of what he’d become pressing down on his spine like a second body.

He couldn’t go back. Not like this.

“I’m not ready,” he said hoarsely.

Snape didn’t turn. He stood by the window, watching the last of the night dissolve into grey morning.

“You won’t ever be,” he said simply.

Jisung clenched his jaw. “I don’t want to see her. Or anyone. I—I can’t trust myself.”

“You must learn to live with your current situation.”

“Why can’t I just… stay here?”

Snape turned at that. His eyes were cold and calculating.

“Because people are already asking questions,” he said. “Students, staff. Your friend.”

Jisung’s heart stuttered at that.

“She’s worried,” Snape continued. “Rightfully so. You disappeared without warning. She’s been to my office several times. She’s even confronted the student who got you into this predicament, pulled out a wand at him. I don’t know how much longer I can keep her from endangering herself trying to find you.”

Jisung lowered his head, guilt flooding every nerve.

“Rumors are spreading, too.” Snape added. “A few students are saying they saw you with Mr. Lee that night. Some think you were injured, others that you’re in trouble. You’ve already been gone too long.”

Jisung swallowed hard. “So I just walk into the Great Hall acting like I’m normal?”

Snape didn’t blink. “Yes.”

His stomach turned. “And if someone sees the scars?”

“You’ll say you had an accident in the forest.”

“And you’ll back me up?” he asked bitterly.

“If I must.”

Jisung exhaled shakily. “And Y/N? We—we’re always together, she’ll find it weird if I suddenly cut her off”

“You’ll keep your distance regardless. If she asks questions, you deflect. If she pushes, you walk away. You’re not safe around her”

He bit his lip hard, so hard it almost bled. “She’ll know something’s wrong.”

“Then hope she’s smart enough not to get too close.”

The doors to the Great Hall had never felt so heavy. Jisung stood in front of them for nearly five minutes, staring at the carved wood. Behind them, he heard laughter, casual conversation, normalcy.

He wasn’t ready.

But Snape’s words echoed in his skull.

"You’ve already been gone too long."

He took a breath and pushed them open.

All the noise overcame him like a wave, the plates clinking, voices overlapping, owls fluttering through the rafters. It all felt loud in a way it hadn’t before, as if someone had turned the world’s volume up just to punish him.

He kept his head low and his pace steady. One foot in front of the other. Just like Snape said. Act like nothing happened.

He could feel all eyes on him almost instantly. First years stopping mid-bite and a few seventh-years whispering across the Gryffindor table. Someone, he thought maybe Jay, froze with a goblet halfway to his lips.

And then you. He didn’t have to loo, he felt the second your eyes landed on him, making something twist deep in his chest. That same unbearable tightness he’d felt in the shack whenever he let himself think about you. About your laugh echoing across the common room. About your fingers brushing his when you passed him a quill and how it used to mean nothing, and now it meant everything.

He knew you’d notice the hollow look in his eyes, the bruises blooming like violets on his neck and the bandage peeking out from beneath the collar of his robes. You’d find it weird that he didn’t sit near you, didn’t even glance your way. But he tried to ignore those thoughts and just focus on the plate in front of him even though his stomach turned at the smell of food.

You stared at him from your seat. It took you several long, painful seconds to process what you were seeing.

Jisung—your best friend, who’d been missing a week without a word—just walked into breakfast looking like he’d seen hell and barely made it back out.

His robes were loose like he’d lost weight and his eyes were ringed with dark circles, exhaustion written clearly in every line of his face. There were cuts visible, thin red marks down his jaw, a deeper scar stretching beneath his collar, fading bruises on the backs of his hands. His hair was tangled, his posture painfully tense.

You felt a sick sense of relief after seeing him, despite his appearance. But most of all you felt angry. You felt everything all at once, a hot rush of emotions almost too intense to handle.

Jisung avoided your gaze completely. He picked at the food in front of him, not really eating, just pushing it around his plate.

He felt you approaching before you spoke. Your scent hit him first, warm and familiar, yet unbearably intense. His jaw clenched tight, fingers curling into fists beneath the table. He didn’t look up even when you stood near him. He simply couldn’t trust himself to see your face and not fall apart.

You called his name quietly and he almost cried at the sound of your voice. But he didn’t move, not even when you stepped closer.

Slowly, he raised his head, gaze finally meeting yours You went still, eyes widening just slightly. He knew instantly what you saw—the darkness in his stare, the shadowed bruises, the fresh scars. The way he looked wrong.

He couldn’t bear your pained eyes, so he snapped at you. Something he’d never do before, but Snape told him to deflect. So he yelled and walked away, trying to ignore how hurt you looked.

This was what Snape meant. You’re not safe around her.

You couldn’t eat after that. Not with the way he’d looked at you.

Jisung had always been soft-spoken, a little awkward, a little shy—but never cold. And you didn’t need a Healer to tell you that whatever he’d gone through wasn’t some stomach bug or routine cold. You weren’t stupid.

You saw the tremble in his fingers when he reached for his fork. You saw the way he flinched when someone behind him dropped their goblet. You saw the bruises just under his collar and the bandages.

Something happened to him.

You sat back down but your heart was still up at the other end of the table with him.

“I need to know,” you murmured, more to yourself than to Renjun.

He sighed. “Y/N…”

“Don’t say it,” you snapped quietly. “Don’t say I should give him time. Don’t say he’ll come around. I know him, Renjun. He’s scared. You don’t just disappear for a week and come back with claw marks on you neck.”

Renjun went quiet.

That silence told you more than anything else.

“Okay, I’m tired of this… You know something, don’t you?”

He avoided your gaze. “It’s not my place to say.”

That hurt. “Is it mine to not know?”

You stood abruptly, grabbing your bag. “If no one’s going to tell me the truth, I’ll figure it out myself.”

Over the next few days, you tried to get close to Jisung in every way you could think of. You waited for him outside the greenhouses after Herbology, hoping to catch him alone. You switched seats in Charms just to be nearer, and sometimes you even loitered in the corridor after Potions, telling yourself you’d walk him back to the common room.

Despite your best efforts, he continually slipped away.

He offered awkward excuses about having somewhere to be, or sometimes said nothing at all and just walked past. Most of the time, he barely managed to look at you, as if doing so caused him physical pain. This wasn’t an icy kind of avoidance, nor was it tinged with anger. It felt worse than either of those possibilities—it was as though he found everything about you unbearable, but still couldn’t muster the energy to explain why.

Once, you nearly cornered him after lunch. He was leaning against the corridor wall outside the Great Hall, head tipped back, looking utterly exhausted. In that unguarded moment, your eyes met his, and you thought you glimpsed your old friend beneath the tension he carried. Summoning the nerve you’d been collecting all day, you stepped forward.

“Can we talk?” you asked softly.

For a split second, it seemed like he might say yes. His mouth opened as though he wanted to form the words but then Professor Snape’s voice echoed from behind you.

“Miss Y/N.”

You turned around to find Snape standing there, unruffled as always, robes hanging in sharp lines. He inclined his head in an almost polite manner yet still carried the weight of an order.

“I need you to come to the dungeons,” he said in a measured tone. “There are ingredients that require sorting. I trust your handwriting is still legible.”

You tried to protest, but as soon as you turned back, Jisung had vanished. From that moment on, it became a pattern: every time you got too close to him, Snape appeared with some new task for you—an extended office hour to discuss a mistake in an essay, a request to reorganize outdated potions, or a perfectly timed interruption just as you were about to speak with Jisung privately.

On a rational level, you knew it was ridiculous to think Snape was orchestrating this on purpose; however, it was impossible to ignore how consistently he managed to swoop in whenever you finally had a chance to approach Jisung alone. You didn’t know why your professor was so intent on calling you away, and truthfully it wasn’t the main issue gripping your mind.

All you could focus on was Jisung.

He looked so different—worn down, scared, ashamed, like he was carrying a secret that weighed on his shoulders every moment of the day. Every time you tried to reach him, he withdrew further. It broke your heart, because you weren’t trying to fix him or make him talk if he didn’t want to. You just wanted to be there, to stand by him instead of watching from a distance.

Yet no matter how hard you tried, the boy who used to seek you out for study breaks and late-night jokes now seemed determined to avoid you. And the more distance he forced, the more you wanted to find out what had really happened, because this Jisung—the one who flinched when you spoke and looked away when you caught his eye—felt like a stranger wearing your best friend’s face.

It was late, far too late for anyone else to be out of bed. So when you heard commotion up in the Astronomy Tower during one of your prefect rounds, you instinctively climbed the stairs to inspect, your wand held loosely in your fingertips.

The castle had felt too quiet lately. Ever since Jisung came back, everything had been off balance. You’d even taken extra patrols just to keep your mind busy. You weren’t expecting to find anything up there except maybe a few rowdy owls.

But when you pushed open the heavy wooden door to the Astronomy Tower, you froze at the sight.

Jisung was there, hunched against the railing, his robes half-open, hands gripping the stone balustrade so tightly you saw his knuckles pale even from across the room.

"Jisung?" you said softly, hesitant.

His head snapped up instantly, and your breath caught in your throat.

His eyes were wild, pupils blown wide, irises shimmering unnaturally gold beneath the moonlight. Sweat gleamed across his pale forehead, his hair was messy and damp, sticking to his face. His breathing came harsh and fast, almost feral.

You took a cautious step forward. "Jisung, are you okay?"

"Stay back," he choked out, voice strained and rough. "Don't come closer."

But you saw the tremble in his arms, the feverish brightness in his eyes. He looked sick. He looked scared.

"What’s wrong? Let me help—"

"No." He shook his head violently, squeezing his eyes shut as if fighting himself. "You can't—I'm not—"

He trailed off, stumbling forward as if pulled by some invisible force toward you. He was breathing heavily, lips parted as he seemed to taste the air between you.

"Jisung—"

Your voice cut off as his gaze snapped sharply to yours again, something raw and dangerous flaring in his eyes. It sent a shiver racing down your spine, and you instinctively backed away half a step.

"Leave," he hissed, the word barely recognizable through his clenched teeth. His whole body seemed rigid with tension. "Please, leave before—"

He broke off with a gasp, doubling over as though a wave of pain had just wracked through him.

You rushed forward instinctively, panic clouding your caution. "Jisung!"

He moved faster than your eyes could track. One moment he was curled into himself and the next he had you pinned against the cold stone floor, wrists pressed tightly beside your head, his face inches from yours, breath hot and erratic against your neck.

"Ji—" Your voice cracked. "What are you—"

He inhaled deeply against your throat, his body trembling against yours. "God, you smell so—" His voice was ragged and broken, almost a sob. "I can't—I can't stop it, I—"

He pressed closer instinctively, hips pinning you hard against the floor. His lips grazed roughly against your neck, sharp teeth skimming dangerously along your pulse point. Your heart slammed against your ribs, fear tangled confusingly with something hot in your lower belly.

"Jisung, please," you whispered, half plea, half gasp. "You're scaring me."

Those words seemed to pierce through whatever haze had overtaken him. He jerked back, eyes wide, suddenly horrified at himself. His gaze flicked down to your wrists, already bruising beneath his grip, and he stumbled away as if burned.

"No," he whispered, horror and guilt bleeding openly into his expression. "I didn't—I wouldn't—"

You stayed frozen on the floor, chest heaving as you watched the agony twist across his face.

"What’s happening to you?" you breathed, sitting up slowly.

He stared at you, anguished, hands still trembling at his sides.

"I'm sorry," he whispered brokenly. "I—I'm so sorry."

Before you could say another word, he turned sharply and bolted down the stairs, leaving you alone, shaking, and terrified.

The Hufflepuff common room was quiet when you walked in. Most students had gone to bed, but Renjun sat alone on the couch.

You didn’t give him a chance to pretend he didn’t see you coming.

“You’re going to tell me what happened.”

Renjun sighed, not looking away from the fire. “Y/N…”

“No,” you said, standing in front of him. “No more deflecting. You’ve known something since the day he came back.”

He rubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t know the whole story.”

“Then tell me what you know.”

Silence.

You crossed your arms. “Do you really think I’m going to stop asking? You’ve seen him. You know he’s not okay. And no one’s saying anything, and I’m losing my mind because—” your voice cracked, just slightly— “because that’s my best friend.”

Renjun’s shoulders slumped. He looked like he aged ten years in a second.

“Seungmin and his friends... they planned something,” he said quietly.

Your chest went still.

“I only heard a conversation between Professor Sprout and Professor Snape,” he continued. “But apparently they were hanging out near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Seungmin gave Jisung something. A potion or… some kind of enchanted hallucinogen.”

Renjun looked up at you, guilt heavy in his eyes even though he hadn’t been there. “They led him into the forest, Y/N… And something attacked him.”

You stared at him, voice thick with dread. “Something?”

Renjun hesitated. “Snape... Snape was the one who found him.”

You felt cold all over. “What was it?”

He looked away.

“Renjun. What was it.”

His voice dropped to a whisper.

“A werewolf.”

A gasp got stuck in your throat.

“I don’t know how bad it was,” Renjun said softly. “But apparently Professor Snape had to lock him up for a week while he went through the transformation.”

Tears stung behind your eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to believe it myself….”

You sank into the chair across from him, everything too heavy to stand.

“A werewolf,” you whispered.

He nodded and suddenly, so many things clicked at once. Suddenly it all made sense.

After Renjun told you, you couldn’t sleep.

You sat in your bed staring at the ceiling until the sun started bleeding through the windows, and then you slipped out of the dorms without a word. You went straight to the library and stayed there all morning.

Madam Pince gave you a curious glance when you asked to go into the Restricted Section after looking through every other possible book in the regular shelves and finding nothing of value. You dropped Professor Babbling’s name as your excuse—said you were doing independent research for an Arithmancy paper. She didn’t ask further, just handed you a list of approved titles and waved you through.

You didn’t touch a single one of them. Instead, you searched for everything you could find on werewolves.

They were mostly old, dusty books with creaking spines and brittle pages. Most seemed to be more folklore than facts but you found a text buried near the bottom of a shelf, half its title burned off the spine.

Lycanthropy and Lunar Madness: A Clinical Compendium.

The chapters were brutal. You read about the first changes, the muscle pain, the sensory overload. The way magic in the blood would flare, fight back, burn from the inside out. You read about the violence, how the mind slips away when the full moon peaks, how instincts override everything else.

But what caught your atention the most was this:

“In cases of recent infection, the afflicted may experience an attraction fixation, often triggered by proximity to a familiar person. This response is especially common in individuals whose first transformation occurs during adolescence or early adulthood.

The instinct is not always sexual, but it is always possessive. The werewolf’s senses recognize the person as a source of comfort or danger. When comfort, the fixation can lead to obsessive behavior, rut-like symptoms, and irrational aggression if the person is perceived as threatened or unattainable. When danger, it can lead to avoidance or attack. Scent is the most common anchor. Once imprinted, it is nearly impossible for the werewolf to ignore.”

Your throat tightened. You re-read the paragraph five times.

It made sense, too much sense. His distance, his flinching, the way he couldn’t look at you anymore.

Your scent.

You remembered how he looked at you that morning in the Great Hall. How he barely breathed when you stood too close and how he wouldn’t meet your eyes when you asked what happened. And last night in the Atronomy Tower, he said you smelled good and it looked like he wanted to eat you alive.

You closed the book with shaky hands and then checked out four more. You didn’t stop reading until your eyes blurred. You didn’t eat or go to class.

By the time the sky outside the window started darkening, you were sitting at a corner table, surrounded by open tomes and loose parchment covered in frantic notes—everything you could find about Wolfsbane, Snape’s potion-making reputation, the legal status of werewolves in magical Britain, and every known case of student infection in the last fifty years.

You turned the page again.

Magical Intervention

“Wolfsbane Potion, taken daily during the week of the full moon, prevents transformation but does not erase the instinctual response. It is crucial that young werewolves are supervised during their first year of turning, especially if they experience early signs of rut.

If left unmonitored, the werewolf may become a threat not only to others—but to themselves.”

You found another book next. Not on lycanthropy, but on magical trauma. It mentioned Professor Snape by name.

“A known expert in dark creatures and cursed bloodlines, Professor Severus Snape has played a role in the treatment and monitoring of several underage werewolf cases, particularly after the war.”

You sat there for a long time, staring at the page, your mind buzzing. Snape knew, he was involved and he wasn’t just keeping the secret, he was managing it.

Which meant whatever happened to Jisung—Snape had seen it before. And he’d chosen not to tell you a thing.

You sat there in silence, your hands numb on the table. Snape had told him to stay away from you, that much was obvious now. But no one had told you what being near him could do.

You weren’t afraid of him. But for the first time, you understood why he was of you.

You left the library as the sky was starting to pale with early morning light, the forbidden books still echoing in your thoughts. You didn’t bother going to class again. You went directly to Snape’s office instead and waited there. When he finally arrived, he paused mid-step at the sight of you.

“Miss Y/N,” he said flatly. “You are not scheduled to meet with me.”

“No,” you said, stepping forward. “But I’m not leaving until you tell me the truth, sir.”

His eyes narrowed. “I beg your par—”

“Did you know?” you cut in, voice trembling with restrained rage. “Did you know what would happen to him?”

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”

“I know that Jisung got attacked by a werewolf.”

Snape stilled.

“I went to the restricted section,” you continued. “I know what werewolves go through. I know about the rut cycle. The way someone can trigger it just by being close… Did you know it would be me?”

He didn’t speak, and that silence was an answer.

You took another step toward him. “You told him to stay away, didn’t you?”

Still silent.

You laughed bitterly. “What, were you going to wait until I ended up on the courtyard floor with his teeth in my neck before you decided to warn me?”

“Lower your voice,” Snape said sharply, eyes flicking toward the empty corridor.

“No,” you snapped. “You don’t get to tell me what to do now when you left me in the dark about everything.”

“He is alive and you’re safe because of me,” he said sharply. “Do not mistake silence for neglect.”

“He’s barely alive,” you fired back. “He’s walking around like a ghost and you expect me to believe that’s your idea of help?”

“You think you want the truth but the truth is messy and dangerous. And the truth, Miss Y/N…” he stalked closer to you, almost menacingly “… is that your friend is not who he was anymore.”

“I know that!” you shouted, voice cracking. “But you made him think he was dangerous.”

“He is.”

“No,” you said fiercely. “He’s just scared and you’re feeding it.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed. “You have no idea what a werewolf in rut is capable of.”

“I do now.” You stepped closer again, voice trembling. “I’m not stupid or fragile. And I’m not going to stay away just because you think it’s better that way.”

“Miss Y/N—”

“No,” you snapped. “You can’t “protect me” by locking him away like some creature. He’s not a danger to me. What’s dangerous is isolating him, making him ashamed of something he didn’t choose.”

Snape’s mouth pressed into a thin line.

“And what will you do, then?” he asked. “If he loses control?”

“I’ll help him.” You exhaled, hands trembling. “I’m not afraid of him and he needs someone who isn’t.”

There was a long pause. Snape looked at you with something like pitty. Then he spoke, carefully.

“Then you’d better learn how to handle what’s coming.”

Knowing about Jisung’s condition didn’t bring the relief you thought it would. If anything, it made everything worse. Because now you understood that there was almost nothing you could do to save him from himself. And, like Professor Snape said, the safest option was to stay far away.

And you tried, but it was so hard.

You'd find yourself turning to complain about Professor Binns's endless lectures, only to realize it wasn't Jisung beside you, but Renjun—quiet, studious Renjun who never dared utter a complaint in class.

Or when you walked toward the kitchens out of habit, thinking maybe you'd sweet-talk the elves into some pumpkin tarts, only to remember it was Jisung who always did the charming.

Or when the night sky looked especially clear and you found yourself wanting to stargaze but realizing no one else knew how to trace constellations on your palm with their fingertip. And you couldn’t even remember their names without Jisung pointing them out to you.

Renjun tried. He filled the empty seat at meals, nodded at the right moments when you rambled, even agreed to sneak out once or twice. But he wasn’t Jisung. He didn’t know your weird inside jokes, didn’t lean his head on your shoulder when he got sleepy, didn’t touch your wrist when you got nervous.

You missed him so deeply it ached.

So, when you saw him slipping out of the common room one night you followed him without a second thought.

He moved quickly across the grounds, his hooded shape skimming the moonlit grass. You jogged to keep up, keeping low behind hedges and statues until he stopped beside the Whomping Willow. Your breath caught as he pressed a knot at the roots and the tree froze mid‑sway, its branches locking in eerie stillness. Then, an entrance yawned open.

You hesitated. Every instinct screamed that going after him was a terrible idea. But the thought of him hurting or worse, hurting alone was too much to bear.

So you followed.

The tunnel led you into the Shrieking Shack. A chill raced down your spine the moment you stepped inside. Rot and mildew clung to the walls, the floorboards seemed like they would give way with each step, and it smelled like old nightmares in there. You had to bite down on your lip to keep from gagging but you kept going, following the sounds of his ragged breathing upstairs into a dusty room.

You opened the door cautiously, barely an inch—but before you could fully register what was happening, Jisung lunged. He grabbed your arm, yanking you roughly inside and pinning you to the sagging mattress with a strength that startled you.

"Jisung—!" you gasped.

He loomed over you, eyes wild, glowing gold in the darkness. His expression was pained, almost feral.

"What—are you doing here?" he growled through gritted teeth. His voice was deep and barely recognizable.

You stared up at him, wide-eyed. “I—I was worried. You missed all your classes…”

Something dark flared in his gaze, and he dropped his head, panting harshly against your throat. He inhaled deeply, shuddering as he pressed closer instinctively. Your breath hitched sharply, your body reacting involuntarily to his closeness.

"You shouldn't have come," he whispered brokenly, hands trembling where they gripped your wrists.

You swallowed, feeling his hips press involuntarily against yours and realizing exactly what was happening.

"Your rut," you whispered breathlessly, realization flooding you. "It's started, hasn't it?"

A helpless whimper slid from his throat as his hips rocked against you once more, his erection pressing unmistakably through his trousers. The desperate sound he made sent heat pooling in your stomach, despite the fear and confusion swirling inside you.

“You smell so fucking… good” He let out another ragged noise, and you reached out instinctively, resting a trembling hand against his cheek. His skin burned under your palm. He looked almost delirious, golden eyes flickering between human fear and something more feral.

You’d spent the past week reading about werewolves and their ruts, absorbing every detail you could from hidden texts and restricted tomes. You knew that once the rut hit, the urge for physical intimacy would become nearly unbearable. You also knew it was dangerous for you to be near him like this.

But as you stared at your best friend, trembling and half-broken with need, your heart clenched. You couldn’t just walk away.

“Jisung,” you said carefully, your voice shaking. “Did you take the Wolfsbane?”

He shook his head, eyes squeezing shut. “I don’t know… I think I didn’t—” He broke off, a pained groan tearing from his throat as he rocked forward, hips searching for contact.

Swallowing hard, you remembered the passage in the book. How an afflicted werewolf needed a trusted partner to help ease the rut’s consuming effects.

It felt like your heart was in your mouth.

“You—” he gasped, voice faint. “You can’t stay. I—if I hurt you—”

You cupped his other cheek, forcing his gaze to meet yours. “You won’t,” you promised, though a part of you wasn’t entirely sure.

“Y/N,” he groaned, hips rutting forward again. “Don’t. Don’t touch me right now, I swear—”

“I want to help you,” you said softly. “Please let me.”

His pupils dilated immediately and he let out a shaky breath, leaning into your touch. The heat radiating from him was overwhelming but despite your own hammering pulse, you didn’t draw away.

Because somewhere deep inside, you knew this was the only way to help him.

His grip on your waist was bruising, claws just barely retracted. His body was sweat-slicked and trembling, panting through gritted teeth as he pressed himself flush against you.

“I warned you,” he growled, voice shaky with restraint. “I told you to leave.”

You pulled him closer up and felt how he shook under your touch. “You can have me”

He didn’t wait another second. Your clothes were suddenly nothing, the fabric ripped under his desperate hands. Your skin was bare before you had time to register the sound of seams tearing. His mouth found your throat instinctively, tongue tasting your pulse before he bit.

You winced at the pain and his hips rutted against your thigh, hard and frantic, his cock felt thick and straining through his trousers. He was whining soft, broken sounds between gritted teeth, like each second without you wrapped around him was tearing him open from the inside.

“You smell—fuck, you smell so good,” he gasped into your skin, humping against you harder. “I need—i need to be inside, I need—”

You spread your legs, breathless, head spinning from the force of it all. “I’m here, Sungie.”

He didn’t prep you, didn’t pause for a second—just spit on his fingers and shoved them inside you hard and fast. Stretching you wide while whispering obscenities you couldn’t even make sense of.

“So fucking tight—fuck—gonna ruin you—fill you up, knot you, make sure no one else ever gets to—”

You didn’t even realize he’d taken his cock out until you felt him line himself up with shaking hands, barely getting the tip in before he snapped his hips forward, burying himself inside you in one brutal thrust.

You cried out and Jisung growled, slamming his hand beside your head, forehead pressed to yours, golden eyes glazed over.

“Mine,” he gasped. “Fuck… Mine. Mine. Mine—”

Suddenly, he shoved your knees up, pressing them tightly to your chest as his hips snapped forward, rough and desperate. You cried out sharply, feeling stretched too wide, overwhelmed by the rawness of him filling you again and again. His teeth dragged harshly against your throat, marking you repeatedly, as if he couldn't bear the thought of anyone mistaking you for anything but his.

You sobbed beneath him, your body caught between pain and a pleasure that blurred into something unbearable. Part of you wondered numbly if it would have changed anything if you'd told Jisung it was your first time—if it would've made him pause, slow down, be gentler. But you knew it wouldn't have mattered. He wasn't fully himself, and even if some part of him wanted to stop, he couldn't.

You felt it then, the swelling at his base. His knot beginning to expand, stretching your entrance wider with every punishing thrust. Panic mixed with need, your mind spinning as your walls spasmed around him.

“Gonna knot you,” he panted desperately, voice breaking as he slammed into you harder. “Can’t stop—fuck, you feel so perfect—gonna keep you like this forever—”

He thrust deeply one last time and locked himself inside, his knot catching and sealing him within you. You screamed, body jolting at the sudden fullness, the pressure almost too much. He shuddered violently above you, his cum flooding hot and deep, twitching through aftershocks that made your thighs quake and your vision blur.

You barely had time to gasp a breath before his knot began to soften, still pulsing faintly inside you. But Jisung didn’t stop, not even for a moment.

Before you could recover, he flipped you roughly onto your stomach, the mattress creaking sharply beneath you. He pressed into you again slowly, his breathing ragged and hot against your sweat-damp back. You trembled uncontrollably beneath him, arms shaking, barely able to keep yourself upright.

“Jisung, wait—” your voice broke, a thin plea lost beneath the rasp of his breath.

But he didn’t acknowledge your begging. One hand pinned your hip firmly, the other flattened between your shoulders, forcing you down into the sheets until you couldn’t move. You felt the ache building again as he pushed inside you once more, pushing mercilessly against your walls. Your thighs burned, your body instinctively arching to escape the overstimulation, but he wouldn’t allow you to shift away.

The moment he felt how wet and open you still were, the last shred of his restraint shattered. His rhythm turned frantic, his hips slamming into yours so fiercely the air was knocked from your lungs with every brutal stroke.

You moaned helplessly into the sheets, fingers clawing at the mattress as your body surrendered. He wasn’t speaking now, wasn’t asking if you were okay—all you heard were harsh, ragged sounds torn from his throat, desperate noises so primal and raw they made your skin burn hot with shameful need.

His movements grew rougher, your bodies locked in a rhythm that erased any remaining thought from your mind. Your senses narrowed until all you knew was the brutal heat between your thighs and the ache of him stretching you. You took every thrust, helpless to stop, unable to do anything but accept the ruthless force of his body on yours.

His teeth bit sharply into the back of your shoulder, fangs scraping against your skin until you gasped in pain. His grip tightened, fingers bruising your hips as he pounded into you without mercy, branding you with every brutal snap of his hips.

With one final thrust, he buried himself impossibly deep, and you felt the knot swell again—filling you, stretching you beyond limits as he locked himself inside with a guttural growl.

His whole body jerked, cock throbbing violently as he spilled into you again. It was so much cum it leaked around the thick swell of his knot, your walls clenching tight, helpless to hold it all in. He held still, panting, hands trembling as he stayed buried in you, locked and pulsing.

He stayed inside you for what felt like forever, body trembling from release, your muscles fluttering weakly around him. His breath came in uneven bursts against your skin.

But even then, you could feel that he wasn’t finished.

He rutted again and let out a feral sound low in his throat, one that sounded more like a growl than a moan. And then he was moving just enough to slip free with a wet sound that made both of you shiver.

His hands moved to your waist, lifting you. He dragged you onto your back again, spread your thighs wide, and settled between them with a single-minded hunger that made your whole body pulse with anticipation.

His gaze dropped the moment he pushed back in and he groaned, eyes locked between your legs with an obsessive intensity. Your walls clenched around him as his cock slid in with zero resistance. His breath hitched, and he stopped for just a second.

His mouth parted when he saw the shape of him pushing inside you, deep enough to press against your belly, the bulge rising with every brutal thrust. He pressed his palm against it and let out a wrecked moan. The sight of his cock inside your belly driving him halfway mad.

“Fuck,” he choked. “That's me? inside you?”

You tried to answer, but all that came out was a gasp as he rocked into you harder.

He watched your stomach move with every stroke, how your cunt took all of him, again and again, walls fluttering around his cock like your body was desperate to keep him.

He was mesmerized. Staring with wide, hungry eyes as hips snapped forward with more force. One of his hands grabbed your thigh, the other pressing to your lower belly as he kept thrusting, rougher this time, watching the bulge disappear and return with every movement.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “you’re made for this—fuck—you’re made to take me like this—”

You could feel the knot swelling again, dragging harder against your soaked, overstretched entrance, until your legs started to shake. He braced both hands on either side of your hips, growled deep in his chest, and slammed forward. The knot forced its way in with a brutal stretch that made your eyes roll back.

His whole body jerked, head falling forward as a strangled moan left his lips. His cock twitched violently, knot fully buried, and you felt the rush of his cum flooding you again, deeper this time, deeper than anything had ever been.

His eyes were still locked on your lower stomach, wide and blown out with awe. The bulge in your belly pulsed with each twitch of his knot, round and taut with the sheer amount he’d pumped into you

“Look at that,” he whispered, almost dazed. “Look what I did to you.”

He reached out again, fingertips brushing against your stomach and the possessiveness in his voice made your body clench all over again.

“I'm inside you.”

He blinked, his eyes flickering to your face as he really looked at you for the first time.

You were trembling, bruised, and barely able to keep your legs from shaking. Your eyes were glassy, your body completely spent beneath him. And something in him seemed to return.

His hands gentled against your skin as he eased out of you slowly, knot slipping free with an aching stretch that made you whimper. You gasped at the sudden emptiness, but he didn’t leave you long. He kissed your thigh once, softly, as if in apology, and then lowered himself between your legs.

You barely had the strength to lift your head. “Ji—what are you doing…”

But he didn’t answer. Just held your thighs gently in his hands, spreading them open again but this time with reverence, not greed.

Then he licked a single, languid drag of his tongue that made your hips twitch weakly. He groaned low in his throat at the taste of you.

You whimpered, the oversensitivity almost unbearable but his hands kept you grounded. Thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your hips, mouth moving with an aching kind of care. He sucked gently at your clit, tongue flicking in slow passes, easing the pain into something warmer.

You threaded trembling fingers through his hair, tugging gently.

His mouth grew more desperate by the second, tongue dipping lower and teasing at your entrance where his cum was still leaking out. He groaned at the taste, sucking softly, messy and slow, like he couldn’t get enough of it. Of you.

He buried himself there with his nose pressed into your skin, mouth drinking you. You let out a soft cry, hips twitching against his face, and his grip tightened just enough to hold you still as he circled your clit again, tender but insistent.

“I need to make it better,” he murmured into your skin, voice hoarse and reverent. “Let me—please…”

You didn’t answer but the way your legs shook around his head told him everything. So he stayed there—worshipping the mess he made, tongue moving slow and devoted, lips soft and endless. He lost himself in you.

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the pain.

It was deep and dull at first, but the moment you shifted, it sharpened—radiating through your thighs, your lower back, your hips. Your skin felt hot, stretched too thin in some places, sore in others. You winced as you tried to sit up, limbs trembling slightly from the effort.

Jisung was already awake. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from you, his robes wrapped tightly around him. His shoulders were stiff.

You swallowed through the dryness in your throat. “Ji?”

He stood up without looking at you.

You watched him move across the room, hands twitching at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them. He picked up your clothes from the floor—torn in multiple places, seams ripped from how desperately he’d removed them the night before—and with a flick of his wand, the fabric mended itself slowly in the air.

“Get dressed,” he said flatly. “I’ll help you get back to the hospital wing.”

You blinked. “Back to the—what?”

He turned then, just slightly, just enough to look at you briefly. His eyes were guilt-ridden.

“You’re hurt,” he said. “I can see it.”

Your mouth opened, but no words came out.

“And I’m going to Snape later,” he continued. “I’m going to ask him to relocate me during the next cycle. Somewhere far from here.”

You stared at him, stunned. “Jisung, you don’t have to—”

“I do,” he snapped. “Because this—” He gestured toward you, his voice colder now. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

Your heart twisted.

“I told you to stay away,” he said. “And I didn’t mean that to sound cruel. I meant it because I knew I’d lose control. And I did… and now look at you.”

He walked toward the cracked mirror, stopped a few feet in front of it, and gestured for you to come closer.

You hesitated.

“Please,” he said, quieter now. “Just… come here.”

You stood slowly, legs shaking slightly under your weight. You wrapped yourself in the blanket and stepped toward the mirror.

Your reflection made your breath hitch.

There were bruises on your neck, angry bite marks along your collarbone and shoulder. Finger-shaped welts on your hips and thighs. Your lips were still swollen from where he’d kissed you too hard. Some of the marks looked deep. Others looked like they might last days, if not longer.

“I didn’t know I was capable of this,” Jisung said behind you, voice cracking.

You looked at him through the mirror. His face was pale, jaw tight.

“I’d rather suffer the worst pain a rut could ever give me than ever touch you like that again.”

“Jisung—”

“No,” he cut you off. “You don’t understand. I didn’t even care if I was hurting you. I couldn’t think. You could’ve cried, begged, screamed, and I still would’ve—”

He stopped himself, breathing hard.

“I’m not going to let this happen again. I’ll talk to Snape. I’ll take whatever dose he gives me. I’ll lock myself somewhere no one can find me.”

You stepped forward, reaching for him, but he flinched when your fingers brushed his sleeve.

He turned his face away. “Get dressed,” he said quietly. “Please.”

There was nothing else to say.

He handed you your clothes without looking at you again. When you were dressed, he silently moved to support your weight down the stairs and back toward the tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow.

Your legs ached with every step. Jisung’s arm was around your waist, holding you upright as you moved slowly down the path back to the castle, your freshly repaired clothes felt stiff and uncomfortable against your bruised skin.

You hadn’t said a word since leaving the Shrieking Shack. Neither had he.

His touch wasn’t warm, or comforting. It was careful and detached. Like he was holding you not out of care, but out of obligation.

Your heart hurt more than your body. You two had been close for so long. Even after he’d changed, after he came back cold, distant, guarded you still felt more warmth than right now. Like he was reaching for you even when he didn’t realize it. So seeing him acting like this was almost unbearable.

You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t rejection or shame. That he was just protecting you, trying to keep you safe. But it still felt like being left behind.

You didn’t even realize how close you were to the castle until the path curved and the first archway of the courtyard came into view.

“Park.”

Professor Snape stood just beyond the arch, his arms crossed over his chest, black robes billowing faintly in the wind. His gaze flicked over the two of you quickly. His eyes dropped to the way you leaned into Jisung, to your limp. And then he saw the bruises. Even with your collar pulled tight, they peeked out, the edges of bite marks and the faint discoloration just beneath the skin.

Snape’s eyes narrowed.

“Come here,” he said, voice cold.

Jisung didn’t move.

Snape stepped forward. “Now.”

You felt the panic rise in your chest immediately.

“Professor, wait. It’s not—he didn’t—” You reached for his sleeve. “He didn’t force me.”

Snape’s eyes snapped to yours, and for a moment, you almost stepped back. His expression didn’t change, but something in it darkened like your words had confirmed what he already suspected.

“I didn’t ask what he did,” he said sharply. “I asked him to come with me.”

Jisung’s jaw was clenched so tightly it looked painful. He didn’t say a word, just let go of you carefully.

You nearly stumbled from the sudden absence of support.

“I can explain—” you tried again, but Snape raised a hand.

“This is not your responsibility,” he said, more quietly this time. “And you are in no condition to be standing here arguing.”

He turned to Jisung once more.

“Park. Now.”

And without looking back at you, Jisung walked toward him.

You stood there trembling, arms wrapped around yourself, the chill settling deeper into your bones now that he was gone.

Jisung stood in the doorway of Snape’s office with his head hung low. The potions master had stepped away to ensure you made it safely to the hospital wing and to explain the delicate situation to the healers. Minutes stretched on endlessly until finally, he heard the sharp clack of Snape's shoes approaching.

“Go in,” Snape ordered coldly, gesturing toward the open door. The Hufflepuff obeyed silently.

Snape shut the office door behind them with a flick of his wand. The room smelled of ash and damp parchment, but Jisung could still smell your scent stronger than anything else; it clung to him, saturated his senses.

“Sit,” Snape instructed curtly.

Jisung lowered himself into the hard chair opposite the desk, shoulders slumped. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Snape’s eyes.

“How is she?” he asked softly, voice raw.

“She’ll live,” Snape replied coolly, summoning a few vials and herbs onto his desk. “Madam Pomfrey is treating the bruising you saw fit to decorate her with.”

Jisung’s head snapped up, panic clear in his gaze. “I—I bit her. More than once.” The admission spilled out before he could stop himself, heavy with guilt and shame. “Does that mean—”

“No,” Snape interjected sharply. “The curse passes only when the biter is fully transformed under the full moon. You were saturated with Wolfsbane, half-shifted but not contagious.”

Jisung exhaled sharply, gripping the chair arms until his knuckles whitened. Relief flooded him, but Snape wasn't done.

“However,” Snape continued, voice lowering dangerously, “do not delude yourself into believing she was truly safe. Had you missed even one additional dose, or had the moon been at its peak, she would already share your curse, and that responsibility would lie entirely with you.”

Jisung flinched. “I know. I—I keep hurting her. I keep losing control, and no matter how much I try to stay away, something just…pulls me back. I don’t know how to stop it.”

Snape regarded him for a moment in silence before speaking, voice softer but still edged with steel. “That’s because it is no longer a matter of mere control. You've complicated things significantly, Park.”

Jisung looked up slowly, eyes wide with apprehension. “What do you mean?”

Snape folded his hands on the desk, expression severe yet composed. “By marking her during your rut, you've effectively chosen Miss Y/N as your mate.”

Jisung’s breath caught, his throat tightening painfully. "Mate? I—what does that mean?”

“It means,” Snape explained, calm and clinical, “that your wolf has identified her specifically as an anchor. Such mate-bonds occur most commonly during adolescence, particularly around a first transformation. It's why you find yourself physically unable to stay away for long.”

Jisung swallowed, panic bubbling up again. “Is it dangerous? Will I hurt her more?”

“Not inherently,” Snape said evenly. “But the bond is permanent, Park. Your wolf will always crave her presence—most intensely near the full moon or during rut. Ignoring it will only worsen your aggression.”

“Then…what can I do?” Jisung asked desperately. “How do I keep her safe?”

“You must never skip your Wolfsbane. Take it every evening at sundown and report to me regularly so we can adjust dosage accordingly. Furthermore, and pay attention to this, you must manage your bond carefully. You cannot fight it entirely so stay close to her but with awareness, not indulgence. ”

Jisung flushed deeply. “But… after everything I've done, how can I risk being close to her again?”

Snape leaned forward slightly. “The greater risk lies in distance, your instincts will spiral. Proximity is crucial but do not confuse instinct for entitlement.”

Jisung nodded slowly, the weight of responsibility settling heavily onto his shoulders. “Does she…know?”

“She soon will,” Snape replied quietly. “But it is essential she hears it clearly from you. Be honest and thorough. Do you understand me, Park?”

“Yes, sir,” Jisung whispered. “I won't fail her again.”

Snape regarded him a moment longer, then produced a fresh vial of Wolfsbane, setting it decisively on the desk. “Good. Now leave before I decide silence is insufficient punishment.”

Jisung rose unsteadily, clutching the vial to his chest. He walked slowly to the threshold, feeling every step heavy with responsibility. Just as he reached the door, Snape spoke once more.

“Park, if you truly care for the girl, learn how to live with the wolf without letting it consume her.”

The door sealed shut behind him, and Jisung stood for a long moment in the corridor, the potion trembling slightly in his grip.

You lay on one of the hospital wing beds, half-covered by a sterile white blanket, the curtains drawn tightly around you. The air was too quiet, every sound outside muted by the silencing charm Madam Pomfrey had casted when she left you there.

You picked at your cuticles absently, barely noticing the sting where skin peeled back. Your hospital gown gaped at the shoulders, revealing the bruises along your arms in the shape of fingers. Jisung’s fingers. You should’ve been horrified and maybe you were a little bit but there was something strangely comforting about them. His hands had held you through something painful, but they had held you. It made you feel... needed. Like you mattered to him again.

Your thoughts scattered when the curtain parted and Madam Pomfrey stepped through, her face tight with concern. Behind her came Professor Sprout, head of Hufflepuff house. And just before the curtain fell shut again, you caught the edge of black robes retreating down the ward—Snape. He’d definitely told them everything.

You bit your lip and dropped your gaze.

“Hello, dear,” Pomfrey said gently. When you didn’t answer, she cleared her throat. “To begin with, I’d like to offer you a calming draught for the pain.”

“I’m fine,” you said quietly, though your whole body ached. You didn’t want to take anything that would fog your thoughts. You needed to stay alert to explain the situation.

“Well…” she murmured, unconvinced. “Then I’ll start with the surface wounds.”

She gestured toward the scratches and crescent-shaped bites along your shoulders and collarbone. You stayed still while she worked.

Professor Sprout stepped closer, arms folded tightly across her chest. “Miss Y/LN,” she began carefully. “There’s no need to be guarded with us. We’re not here to punish you… but there are a few matters that need to be addressed.”

You nodded wordlessly, eyes fixed on a wrinkle in the bedsheet.

“Madam Pomfrey will heal what she can,” she continued. “But the bite marks will take several days to fade. Magical injuries of this nature are… stubborn.”

“I understand,” you murmured. The marks didn’t bother you.

Professor Sprout hesitated, color rising faintly in her cheeks. “We also understand that Mr. Park was… in a heightened state when you were intimate.”

You saw her flinch slightly at her own words and you almost pitied her. There was no elegant way to discuss something like this. You nodded once.

“Am I correct to assume no contraceptive charms were cast beforehand?”

Your brows pulled together. You’d never studied contraceptive spells properly. You knew they were meant to be used before any intimacy though and given how everything had happened there hadn’t been time for anything like that. You shook your head slowly.

Professor Sprout exchanged a brief look with Pomfrey before exhaling slowly. “Very well. Madam Pomfrey will now perform a diagnostic charm to ensure no unintended consequences arise from your… encounter.”

You nodded again, tending slight when Madam Pomfrey raised her wand and murmured a spell. A pale lavender glow swept across your lower abdomen then faded without a flicker.

“No conception,” she announced softly. “Everything is normal.”

A breath you hadn’t realized you were holding slipped out and you noticed Professor Sprout’s shoulders ease a fraction.

Pomfrey lowered her wand, relief softening the stern set of her mouth. Then she hesitated, studying you over the rims of her spectacles.

“Dear, may I give you some practical advice?”

You nodded, cheeks still furiously warm.

She lifted her wand again. “There are several reliable contraceptive charms you can use. The simplest is Praeventa Conceptum. It’s quick, painless, and lasts a whole day.”

Professor Sprout cleared her throat delicately but said nothing.

Pomfrey demonstrated. She pointed her wand at her own midsection. “Circle once, clockwise, like so.” A pale halo of light traced the motion. “Then speak Prae‑ven‑ta Con‑cep‑tum. Stress on the second syllable of each word. The charm settles just beneath the skin and it’s a mild warming sensation, nothing more.”

You mimicked the motion in the air, whispering the incantation under your breath. A faint peach‑colored glow sparked at your wand tip and faded.

“Good,” Madam Pomfrey said, satisfied. “Remember, the charm must be renewed daily, and it is far more reliable when cast prior to any sexual activity.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, both grateful and faintly embarrassed.

Professor Sprout offered a small, reassuring nod. “Better to learn here than under far less ideal circumstances.”

Pomfrey tucked her wand away. “Knowledge is its own protection.”

“Again, you are not at fault for any of this,” Sprout added, voice firm. “Last night’s events were influenced by circumstances far beyond your control.”

“Is he okay?” you asked softly.

A shadow crossed the professor’s eyes. “Mr. Park is with Professor Snape now, discussing the seriousness of missing future doses of Wolfsbane.” Her tone suggested ‘discussion’ meant something closer to a dressing‑down. “He’ll be monitored closely.”

“It wasn’t his fault,” you said, fingers worrying the edge of the sheet. “I followed him there, fully aware of the consequences. I just wanted to help… and I don’t regret it.”

Madam Pomfrey’s brows knit, but it was Professor Sprout who spoke first. “Miss Y/L/N, no one here is assigning blame. What matters now is that both of you are safe, and that Mr. Park remains diligent with his potion.” Her gaze softened. “Your loyalty is commendable, but your well‑being is equally important.”

You nodded, swallowing the dryness in your throat. “I know.”

Pomfrey dabbed a final line of salve across the deepest bite mark. “You’ll be sore,” she said gently, “but you’ll heal. Rest here tonight, at least until breakfast.”

The curtain swayed gently as they left you alone, and you stared ahead thinking only of the warmth of his breath, the panic in his voice, and the way he’d whispered “you shouldn’t have come” like it had broken him to see you there.

But you would do it all again.

Madam Pomfrey cleared you for release just after sunrise. You dressed in silence, fingers brushing over the gauze she’d left on the deepest bite. She offered one last vial of bruise balm and a faint smile before sending you off.

It was Saturday, thank Merlin. There were no classes so most students were still sleeping. You were relieved as you stepped out of the hospital wing, and saw nothing but an empty corridor.

Though still a strange, hollow pressure settled in your chest. You missed Jisung.

You weren’t sure if it was the residual ache in your muscles, or the fading imprints he’d left on your body, but you felt the absence of him like it was stitched into your skin. You needed to see him.

And then, as if your thoughts conjured him, he appeared.

Jisung was standing at the other end of the hallway, just beyond the shaft of sunlight spilling in from the tall windows. He looked stunned to see you, like he hadn’t meant to be here, like his feet had brought him without his permission.

You hesitated.

Snape had surely warned him again—more strictly this time—to stay away from you. But still, Jisung took a step forward and you followed.

You met in the middle of the hallway, stopping close enough that your chests nearly touched. It wasn’t until you were standing in front of him that you realized how much he’d changed. He was taller now, just slightly, but it was enough to notice. His shoulders were broader, his presence heavier, like the wolf was still there beneath the surface.

He stared at the bruises along your collarbone, what little was visible through the open neck of your shirt. You saw the way his throat bobbed, how his eyes flickered with guilt.

“Are you—?”

“I’m okay, Ji,” you cut in gently, offering him a small smile. “Perfectly fine.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He exhaled shakily, and his hand reached for yours tentatively. You almost gasped at the contact. It had been so long since he touched you first. His fingers threaded through yours like they were remembering how easily he did this all the time before.

“You don’t have to be,” you whispered. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Your other hand rose instinctively, brushing against his cheek. He leaned into the touch immediately, eyes fluttering closed.

“Did Snape scold you too badly?” you asked, voice soft and teasing.

Jisung cracked a smile. “Yeah, I have to clean the Quidditch stands every day this winter without magic.”

Your eyes widened. “Seriously?”

He laughed. “I’m joking.” He paused, eyes searching yours. “Though honestly… I think I deserved one.”

You squeezed his hand gently. “You’ve been punished enough.”

He didn’t respond, just looked at you like he was still trying to figure out if this moment was real.

The corridor felt suddenly too small, so without speaking, you guided Jisung toward the nearest side door that opened onto the courtyard. The November air was sharp, but sunlight spilled across damp flagstones and carried the faint scent of wet leaves.

You walked side by side, your shoulders brushing now and then. After a long stretch of silence, Jisung spoke in a quiet voice. “Do you remember fifth year… when we hid in Greenhouse Three during that thunderstorm?”

You smiled. “And you spent the whole time pretending not to be scared of lightning.”

He huffed a soft laugh. “I kept thinking about that last night. How you held my hand and told me storms always pass.” He glanced at you, guilt and wonder warring in his eyes. “I wanted to go there initially. But then I smelled you, and I went to the Shack instead, thinking you wouldn’t follow me into a place like that.” He laughed bitterly. “I should’ve known better.”

The admission loosened something tight inside you. “Storms pass, Ji,” you said. “Even the ones inside us.”

He stopped, turning to face you fully. “Does this one? Because I can still feel it.” His gaze flicked to your neck where a bruise peeked above your collar. “I feel every mark I left on you like they’re on my body, too.”

You lifted a hand to his chest, just over his heartbeat. “You didn’t hurt me.”

He looked at you, like he almost believed it, but the tension in his jaw said otherwise. “Snape told me… the biting… it wasn’t random.” he dropped his gaze and bit his lip nervously “I… marked you.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t interrupt.

“He said you’re my mate now,” he said quietly. “That the wolf chose you. That’s why I can’t stay away. Why I can’t stop smelling you, hearing you even when you’re not around. Why it feels like something’s ripping open in my chest when I try to stay away.”

You stood still, eyes locked on his.

“He said I shouldn’t fight it. That if I try to pretend the bond doesn’t exist, it’ll make it worse. That I just have to be… careful and gentle with it. With you.” He exhaled, voice tight. “He said if I really want to protect you, I have to learn how to live with the wolf, not push it down.”

“What did you say?” you finally asked.

“I told him I’d do anything to keep you safe,” Jisung said. “And I meant it.”

You reached for his hand and he let you take it, though his fingers twitched.

“The bond… is that why you came to the Hospital Wing corridor?”

He nodded, shame creasing his brow. “I woke up and… I was already walking there. I didn’t think.”

“Then next time, think and tell me,” you said. “We’ll handle the need together. On our terms.”

He swallowed. “Snape says if I miss a potion… you’ll be in danger first.”

“Then you won’t miss it.” Your tone brooked no argument. “Even if I have to brew it myself.”

A faint smile ghosted his lips. “You’d sit through that smell?”

“I’d sit through worse.” Your thumb stroked over his knuckles.

He exhaled shakily, some of the tension easing, though the gold still flickered behind his eyes like embers. “I’m not safe yet,” he warned.

“That’s okay,” you answered, stepping close until your foreheads touched. “I’m not scared.”

For a while you simply stood in the sunlight, listening to the distant chatter of students who knew nothing about storms or wolves or the way a heartbeat could echo in someone else’s chest. His hand tightened around yours, and instinctively you looked up, meeting his gaze.

His eyes flickered down to your lips, hesitation clear in the tense line of his jaw. Before he could withdraw, before he could overthink it, you stepped on your tippy toes and pressed your mouth gently to his.

It began softly, a cautious brush of lips but it escalated quickly. His mouth opened hungrily, tongue sliding against your teeth, and you gave in with a low sigh. His hand found your waist first, pulling you closer, then slid up to cup the back of your neck, angling your head so he could deepen the kiss. Your fingers tangled through his messy hair, tugging gently. He groaned into your mouth, hips pressing forward instinctively until you were pinned softly against the rough stone wall.

“I can’t lose control again,” he murmured urgently against your lips but still he kissed you harder, as if he couldn’t pull away even if he wanted to.

“You won’t,” you promised breathlessly. “This is fine.”

His hips snapped forward again, pressing you tighter to the stone behind you. You knew you were out in the open—anyone could pass by and see—but caution melted beneath the heat of his mouth trailing down your neck. The dull soreness from the previous night faded to a faint pulse, replaced by something hungrier, as he sucked gently at your throat.

“Ji—” your voice shook softly, hands gripping his robes tighter. “You’re… you’re not still in rut, right?”

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “No. No, I don’t think so,” he panted roughly, almost like he was convincing himself too. “It doesn’t feel the same as last night, but—” He exhaled shakily, pressing his forehead to yours “I want you. Fuck, I want you so bad—I don’t think I’ll ever stop wanting you.”

A helpless moan escaped you at the raw admission, your pulse quickening under his mouth when he kissed you again—softer now, more controlled, as if he was proving to himself he could do this without falling apart.

“I won’t let myself hurt you again,” he breathed, lips brushing your skin between each whispered word. “But you need to tell me if it’s too much”

You shook your head slightly, pulling him closer still, holding him like he was the only thing keeping you upright. “Ji, nothing’s ever too much with you. Just stay here… stay with me.”

He shivered, his breath hitching as he kissed you again, trying to ground himself in the feeling of you rather than the wild instinct still whispering beneath his skin.

Someone laughed nearby, close enough to remind you exactly where you were.

Jisung froze against you, his forehead dropping to your shoulder with a soft groan. “We need to move,” he muttered “If anyone sees—”

“Then come on,” you said grabbing his hand.

He followed without another word.

You tugged him along a narrow side-corridor, the secret path behind the Herbology wing that only upper years and rule-breakers bothered with. Past the old broom cupboard, beyond the faded tapestry of a witch laughing drunkenly into her wine goblet, your footsteps were quiet, your pulse anything but. It hammered through your veins, in your fingertips, your throat—everywhere Jisung’s hand stayed locked in yours.

Soon you stood outside Greenhouse Three, abandoned since the storm in your fifth year shattered half its glass panes. Now, ivy and moss crawled along the cracked glass walls, and no one had bothered to repair it, leaving the space forgotten and overgrown.

You slipped through the splintered wooden door, pulling him gently behind you.

Inside, sunlight spilled across broken tables and tangled greenery. Plants had grown wild, illing the air with the scent of damp earth, crushed leaves, and something faintly sweet. You felt your chest tighten from the memory of your younger selves hiding here together.

Jisung remembered it too, you could see it in the softening of his eyes, the way his shoulders relaxed slightly. He caught your lips again, slow at first, but deepening fast, pulling a moan from your throat. Your hands gripped the front of his shirt, pulling him in until you tasted him fully.

“I want you inside me,” you whispered against his mouth, fingers trembling as you tugged at his clothes again.

He groaned softly, forehead pressing to yours. “Say it again.”

Your breath shuddered. “I want you to fuck me, Ji. Right now.”

He kissed you once more, messy and desperate, before stepping back just enough to undo his belt. His hands shook slightly, desire evident as he freed his cock—already hard and flushed, leaking at the tip as he positioned himself between your thighs. You lay back on one of the old greenhouse tables, cool beneath your skin but sturdy enough for this.

Jisung dragged the head of his cock through your folds, groaning openly at how wet you were, coating him perfectly. He pressed gently against your entrance, one hand braced beside your head, the other gripping your hip, thumb stroking tenderly.

He met your gaze, eyes filled with heated care. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he rasped, voice thick with want but edged with concern.

You cupped his cheek softly, eyes locked on his. “It’s perfect. It’s always perfect with you…Just fuck me, Ji.”

And he did.

The first thrust was slow, a deep stretch that pulled a gasp straight from your lungs. His cock slid in inch by inch until he bottomed out, and then he just held there, buried inside, groaning like he’d finally found home.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “You’re so tight, you feel so—shit—you feel like you were made for me.”

You clenched around him involuntarily and he hissed, head dropping to your shoulder as he fought the urge to move too fast.

But control didn’t last long. His hips started to roll into yours, picking up a rhythm that got harder with each thrust. The sound of skin slapping echoed off the glass, mixed with your breathy moans and the desperate groans breaking in his throat.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, heels digging into his back, dragging him deeper.

“Yes, yes—right there—don’t stop,” you gasped.

“I won’t,” he growled. “I can’t.”

He drove into you harder, the table creaking beneath you as he pounded into your soaked cunt like he was trying to carve the shape of himself into your body. You arched under him, nails raking down his back through his shirt, gasping every time he bottomed out and hit that spot that made your toes curl.

He pulled out just enough to watch his cock slide back in.

“Look at this,” he breathed, one hand dragging down to your stomach, pressing just above your pubic bone. “Can feel myself right here.”

You could tell Jisung was obsessed with seeing himself inside you, it made his thrusts hit deeper just so he could feel himself in your lower belly. You moaned brokenly, the pressure making it worse, the angle driving you insane.

“Fuck, fuck—I’m gonna come,” you choked. “Don’t stop—please, don’t—”

“I want to feel it,” he growled. “Come on, baby. Come for me.”

Your body clamped down around him, walls spasming hard enough to make Jisung curse violently. He fucked you through it, rough thrusts stuttering until his own orgasm took him.

With a strangled groan, he slammed into you one last time and came hard, cock twitching deep inside you as he filled you again with thick spurts that made your pussy slicker than before.

He collapsed over you, forehead buried in your neck, both of you panting like you’d run for miles. His cock was still buried inside you, twitching with aftershocks.

You dragged your fingers through his hair gently, voice hoarse. “That didn’t feel like your rut.”

He laughed, breathless. “No. That was just me.”

“Are you okay?” he whispered into your neck, voice raw and reverent. “Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head slowly. “You didn’t. You were perfect.”

He sighed against your skin, relief loosening his shoulders. Then, gently—so, so gently—he pulled out, groaning as his cock slipped free from your cunt. The mess between your legs was immediate, warmth spilling down your thighs, and you whimpered at the sensitivity.

“I got you,” he murmured, already reaching for his wand.

He muttered a quiet cleaning charm, careful not to touch you until you nodded. His hand brushed your knee, then your thigh, his fingers trembling as he whispered the incantation again and wiped away the rest with his robe sleeve.

When he was finished, he kissed the inside of your knee, then your hip, then your stomach like it was part of some silent apology only your skin could understand.

“I’m gonna help you down,” he said, voice soft.

You nodded, and he wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you slowly from the table and holding you close while your legs adjusted. You swayed once, but he caught you instantly.

“You’re shaky,” he murmured.

“You fucked my legs numb, Park,” you whispered, trying to smile, and he let out a breathy laugh, burying his face in your neck.

“I’m never letting you go again,” he mumbled. “Not even if Snape drags me out of your bed himself.”

You held onto him tighter, forehead pressed to his collarbone. “You better keep that promise.”

He kissed your temple. Then your cheek. Then the corner of your mouth.

“I will,” he said. “Forever.”

He helped you sit on the edge of the table while he redressed—pulling his trousers back up, refastening his belt with one hand while the other stayed on your knee like he couldn’t bring himself to stop touching you. When he was done, he reached for your discarded panties, blushing faintly as he held them out to you.

“I should’ve asked first,” he said quietly. “Back then. In the shack.”

You looked up at him, heart aching. “You couldn’t. And I already told you… I don’t regret it.”

He nodded, but the guilt lingered behind his eyes. So you took his hand and laced your fingers through his again.

“We’ll be okay,” you said. “You and me.”

“We will,” he whispered.

You dressed in silence together, stealing soft glances and touches, letting the heat cool but not disappear. And when you finally stepped out of the greenhouse, blinking into the pale afternoon light, Jisung’s arm was already around your shoulders holding you close and as steady as the heartbeat you’d heard pounding through his chest not long ago.

And this time, when he kissed you, it wasn’t desperate or rushed. It was quiet and certain.

Like a promise kept.

eeeeek feedback is greatly appreciated! i love reading ur comments and anons <3

1K notes · View notes

nekonaps0 · 5 days ago

Note

Your writing has been inspired so far, I'm eating everything up so far 🧡🧡🧡

If you're up for a request, what about how the Freshmen react to, after a studying at Ramshackle, falling asleep and waking up not only in their own bed but with either a lipstick print on their face, or with a vague or dream like memory of the Prefect kissing them good night? (Idk if you prefer to keep the Prefect gn or not when writing) Pre-relationship of possible as well!!!

Good night kiss

✦fem!reader

✦characters: first years

✦Awww that’s so cuuute!!!

Ace Trappola

Ace wakes up with a yawn and a stretch. He slowly crawls out the bed and immediately stops when he notices the faint red lip mark on his cheek.

He freezes. Stares at his mirror.

“…Is that lipstick?”

He flashes back just faintly to the feeling of warm breath against his face, the softness of lips brushing his cheek, your gentle whisper:

“Sweet dreams, Ace…”

His heart punches his ribs. “NO WAY. Did she—?! Did I—?! WAS THAT REAL?!”

Cue him pacing around his dorm, mumbling “I probably dreamed it... right?” but also refusing to wash his face just in case it was real.

The next time you see him, he’s awkward, twitchy, and trying way too hard to be casual.

 “So uh… did you, like, put something on my face the other night? Or am I just hallucinating or something?” He laughed nervously

Deuce Spade

Deuce jolts awake in his dorm bed with a start. His face is warm. He blinks at the ceiling.

“I was at Ramshackle… studying… and then…”

He remembers. Your voice. The way you tucked the blanket around him. The feather-light pressure of a kiss on his forehead. Your soft giggle before whispering

“Sleep tight, Deuce…”

His entire face ignites. He shoots upright, smacking his own cheeks. “No! No way! That must’ve been a dream. She wouldn’t—right?! Unless… unless she likes—no! Get it together!”

He goes to class the next day in a daze, blushing like crazy every time you say hi.

 He almost asks you about it… but chickens out. Still, he secretly wonders if he should fall asleep at Ramshackle more often.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek wakes up in his bed and sits bolt upright, sputtering.

“I-I was at Ramshackle! I recall studying! And then—what… what was that…???”

His ears are red. His thoughts are spinning.

Did you… kiss him? Did you—did you touch his face? And whisper goodnight?

“DO NOT READ INTO THIS. IT WAS MERELY A DREAM. A HALLUCINATION!!” he roars to no one.

But the lipstick of your kiss lingers on his forehead tells others things.

He arrives at Ramshackle the next day, standing at your doorstep with arms crossed and a deep scowl… and a faint pink tint on his face.

“Prefect! If you did, in fact, do something as reckless and inappropriate as… as bestowing a kiss while I was unconscious… then I DEMAND AN EXPLANATION!”

You blink. “So you did remember.”

Cue Sebek malfunctioning.

 “I—! YOU—! THIS IS—! GAAAAHHH!!!”

Jack Howl

Jack wakes up unusually warm.

He frowns, sitting up in bed with the vague feeling something happened. Something… soft.

His hand brushes his cheek, and he freezes. There’s a smudge of lip gloss on his face.

He remembers. You leaning over him. A hushed, “Goodnight, Jack.” Then the gentle press of your lips on his temple.

He clutches the blanket and groans into it.

 “…I knew your lip gloss smelled like that.”

He spends the entire day with his ears twitching and tail swishing restlessly. Every time you talk to him, he glances away like a flustered puppy.

Eventually, he asks—gruffly, quietly

 “...That night. Was it… real?”

When you confirm it with a bashful smile, he goes silent.

“…Next time,” he mutters, not meeting your eyes, “...kiss me while I’m awake.”

Epel Felmier

Epel wakes up confused. He sits up in bed and rubs his cheek. It’s sticky. Strawberry-scented.

“What the hell…”

He rushes to the mirror and sees a soft pink lipstick print right on his cheek.

His face explodes with color.

“Oh my god. Did she—Did I—DID SHE REALLY KISS ME?”

His inner tough guy shatters like glass. He squeals into his pillow for three straight minutes, then immediately texts Deuce:

 “Don’t tell anyone but I think I just got my first kiss???”

All day, he stares at you like you’ve grown angel wings. His heart is pounding. He’s too nervous to ask if it was real, but you wink at him across the cafeteria.

He short-circuits and nearly drops his lunch tray.

..............................................................................................................................

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lemonlover1110 · 6 months ago

Text

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Sukuna

[Chapter 8] Bargain

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Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader

*happy new year🫶

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi - Bluesky

There’s been a mood shift in the room. You weren’t cheery before per say, but you definitely weren’t like this. It feels as if the place has shifted from a warm orange hue to cold blue.

Perhaps it was always like this and he didn’t notice. He’s come to see you in a different light after you announced that you didn’t care for the babies. He shouldn’t care if you want the babies or not, as long as you nurture them when they’re born– Yet, he can’t help but dwell on the thought.

“Are they kicking?” Sukuna asks, watching as you slowly eat the food that’s in front of you. Maybe things look more drastically different since his perspective of you has changed, but some things are absolutely different. You’re barely talking.

Sukuna is trying to make conversation with a woman for fuck’s sake. A woman is only good for having sex in his eyes, he shouldn’t be trying to make conversation.

“No.” You answer as you continue to quietly eat your dinner.

“You’re going to give birth soon, no?” He questions and you shrug. You’ve lost track of time. Winter has just begun… Or is it ending soon? Days all seem the same that you’ve lost track of time. You’re due sometime in the spring, that much you know. “Will you use your words?”

“How do you want me to respond? I don’t know, my dear king?” You respond and he furrows his brows. He doesn’t like the hint of attitude that comes with your words. But there’s something Sukuna knows: beggars can’t be choosers, therefore he won’t reprimand you for speaking to him like that.

“The servants are working on clothes for them.” Sukuna announces, and you don’t react in any way. It’s fine, he didn’t expect you to. Though he won’t lie and say that he isn’t looking at your face to see some sort of excitement at the mention of the babies. He doesn’t know why, but he wants you to get excited about them.

“I’m finished. May I go to sleep?” You question, as you try to get up from your seat– A true struggle lately considering your belly is huge.

“Since when do you care to ask for permission?” He replies, and he’s met with a cold glare.

“I’m your prisoner, am I not?” You respond, and Sukuna realizes that your recent behavior is all tied back to that.

You’ve been having nightmares lately, and it becomes hard for Sukuna to ignore. It’s every night, and he isn’t sure what to do. At first he would simply watch you as you helplessly tossed and turned, but lately they’ve gotten more intense. Sukuna can’t stand and watch.

He’s growing soft, he knows he is. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be holding you to his chest, hand caressing your back. He needs you to rest enough, and that’s not possible if your nightmares get the best of you. If you’re tossing and turning, calling out for help then you’re not resting.

He wants to know the root of the bad dreams, but he doesn’t care enough to look into the issue. He doesn’t mind this position though, holding you is like holding a little warm ball. He’d never say it outloud, but he’s cold; he won’t shiver or tremble, but he’s still cold.

“Sukuna.” He’s falling asleep, but your soft voice wakes him up. “What are you doing?”

“You have nightmares.” He informs you, as if you were unaware of your own dreams. Is this why you haven’t been waking lately? Has he been comforting you?

“I’m sorry.” You feel the odd need to apologize, something that irritates Sukuna’s ears. It ends up with him scolding you,

“You don’t ever apologize.” Which is quickly followed by another apology from you. He can’t win with you, and it’s fine. He won’t scold you again. Sukuna can’t help but ask, “What have you been dreaming about anyway?”

“Nothing.” You answer, which makes Sukuna put you back down on the futon. Of course you won’t open up so easily, but it frustrates him. His behavior is what dug him into this hole, he shouldn’t care.

“Do the babies cause you discomfort?” Sukuna questions, and you chuckle.

“When do they not?” You respond. “Falling asleep is a struggle, it’s no surprise I’m having nightmares.”

“Are you having nightmares related to them?” Sukuna questions, and you remain silent. While Sukuna would take that answer as a yes, he isn’t sure this time around. He isn’t great at picking up social cues, but he’s pretty damn sure that he’s on the receiving end of the silent treatment.

Sukuna takes a long time to think about this weird situation. He asked Uraume about this, but they didn’t have a good answer– Then he asked Hina, an answer that he quickly dismissed. He tries to recall what that answer was.

Then it dawns on him, “A woman dropped off a baby.”

“Your next meal, huh? Enjoy.” You respond, and Sukuna rolls his eyes. You’ve gotten bold, he’ll give you that.

“I don’t eat babies.” He answers. “Babies that are dropped off are raised as servants.”

No answer.

“You can ask Uraume if you want to visit him tomorrow.” Sukuna adds, and your interest is piqued.

“Him? It’s a boy?” You question, and Sukuna hums in response. You furrow your eyebrows, realizing that Sukuna is doing this for a reason. He wants you to look at a baby and think of the children that you grow inside of you. It’s not going to work though, there’s no way in hell that you’ll end up caring for his kids.

“Do you want to meet him or not?” Sukuna presses for an answer, wondering if Hina’s advice is any good. He might just kill her tomorrow if you refuse. Though, you adore Hina and he has to get on your good side so he might just spare her.

“Sure.”

“Uraume, why are you here?” You question when Sukuna's dear servant comes into your room. You rarely see them unless Sukuna is around. Sukuna is tending other business which means that you’re alone– Alone in the sense that he isn’t breathing down your neck, you’re still being watched by everyone else.

“King Sukuna told me you were meeting the baby. He wants me to take you there.” Uraume answers, and you sigh. He’s set on you meeting that baby, he so desperately wants you to change your mind. You can’t help but find it odd, he wants you to love the babies that you grow inside of you.

“Let’s go.” You respond. Uraume gives you a subtle nod before they turn around and leave the room. You follow behind, mentally preparing yourself to not fall for Sukuna’s dumb trick. Perhaps you should’ve turned him down last night, you're not the strongest when it comes to children.

You get to see a side of the palace that you’ve never come across. As you walk past everyone, you’re reminded that you hold some sort of power; a power that you forgot you held since Sukuna is constantly next to you. They bow down to you as you simply walk past them, as if you would actually do something to them.

Uraume leads you to the kitchen, where two women try to calm down the crying baby. Uraume is about to speak, but you shush them before they can say anything. You can read their next move, you don’t want the woman to stop simply to bow down to you.

“Let me hold him.” You tell the women, who have yet to realize who you are. They hand him over to you, desperate for a solution. The sound of a crying baby is absolutely not pleasant.

“Oh, look at you.” You gush at the boy who wails. He’s hungry with no way of feeding. “He’s too young for anything solid, huh?”

“Yes–” One of them speaks, until she realizes who you are. She bows down, and her colleague quickly follows suit. You nearly roll your eyes at the action, as if this wasn’t what you wanted when you asked Sukuna to marry you.

“Stand up.” You order, and they’re hesitant, but they do as you tell them. “What were you saying?”

The women look at each other, afraid of how to proceed. Regardless, they have to answer. “Yes, he’s too young for solids. We’ve never had a baby this young in our quarters, and we’re not sure how to proceed. We need a wet nurse but none of our servants are currently–”

“I’ll do it.” You cut her off as you stare down at the hungry baby. Oh, he looks so much like your Haru, you’d never forgive yourself if the baby died of hunger.

“My queen, that’s not appropriate. King Sukuna would be livid.” Uraume chimes in, though their words fall on deaf ears.

“Uraume, I’m going back to my room. I’ll tell Hina to give the baby back.” You tell them, bouncing the baby, hoping that the cries die down; you know it’s helpless, the baby won’t stop until he’s fed.

“My queen–” Uraume begins, but you begin to walk away. You’re smiling at the baby as he cries. Even when he’s crying, he looks so darn cute.

“Oh, how could someone abandon you? You’re so cute.” You tell him, as if you didn’t feel the same way about your babies– And you try not to think about it, but maybe Sukuna’s plan is working. There’s a twinge of guilt as you think about your refusal of loving your babies.

Maybe the stupid monster has a brain after all.

You lied, you were planning to hand back the baby boy as soon as you fed him, but he’s still in your arms. He looks at you with his beautiful brown wide eyes, and a smile on his face. You can’t let him go. You don’t doubt that he’ll be treated well, but he can have anything he needs right beside your side. Additionally, he makes great company.

“Oh, that stupid monster’s plan is working.” You mention as the baby yawns in your arms. You can’t fathom the thought of someone leaving this precious baby behind. Except, Sukuna’s sons will be nothing like this calm baby.

“Hina!” You call out, and the woman is in your room within seconds. She bows down her head, and waits for your order. You smile down at the baby in your arms as you tell her, “Get him a warm blanket.”

“King Sukuna–” She begins, but you cut her off before she can finish her sentence.

“Did I ask about Sukuna?” You question, and she shakes her head. “Then you’ll do as I say. Get him a blanket.”

“Of course.” She responds, nodding her head before walking away. It’s a risk she’s willing to take, even though there’s the possibility that Sukuna won’t be too happy. You were supposed to simply meet the baby, not get attached. There’s nothing she can do now, the matter is out of her hands.

“I hope his babies are as cute as you are.” You murmur as you bounce the baby in your arms. His little eyes are shutting on their own, and you stick out your bottom lip as your little pal begins to drift to sleep.

Hina comes back with a blanket, and you almost snatch it from her hands to cover him.

“When is the monster coming back?” You ask, knowing that Sukuna is going to force you to give him back. Sure, he suggested the idea but he won’t want you to keep the baby by your side. “Who’s going to feed him if Sukuna takes him from me?”

“I’ve ordered some servants to find a wet nurse, he’ll be fine.” Hina answers but you don’t like that answer. You’re not sure why though, it’s for his own good.

“Can I keep him with me forever?” You’re perhaps a little drastic. You’ve grown attached rather fast– Well, it’s not necessarily hard to grow attached when you’re lonely.

“My queen, you know that King Sukuna would never allow it.” Hina reminds you, and you can’t help but sigh. She’s not wrong. “Plus, you’re expecting two wonderful babies.”

“They’re not going to be like this…” You comment, and Hina can’t help but chuckle. Babies are babies, whether they’re Sukuna’s kids or not.

“My queen, you do realize that they’re going to be babies.” She responds as your eyes linger on the sleeping baby.

“They’ll pop out with four arms and a tummy mouth—“ You begin, wondering how his babies will end up looking. How much different will they look compared to the rest?

“My queen, you do realize that they’re half of you as well?” She reminds you, and you furrow your eyebrows. They’re also your babies… They will carry your blood whether you accept it or not. “They’re not just King Sukuna’s babies, but yours as well.”

“Of course.” You nod, staring down at the baby. She’s right, even if they come out with four arms and a tummy mouth, they’re still your own blood. Whether you love them or not, won’t change anything.

“He’s here.” Hina informs you as she hears the loud footsteps from far away. For some odd reason, you feel your breath get caught up in your chest, knowing that he’s approaching.

Hina bows down the moment the door to your room opens, only to not be acknowledged in any way by him. Sukuna’s eyes directly land on you, quickly going to the boy that you hold in your arms. He’s wrapped in a blanket that was made for your sons.

“Get out.” Sukuna says, and Hina stands up to do as he says. Though it’s not quick enough for him, because he proceeds to yell, “Get out!”

“Oh, you’ve woken him up.” You’re annoyed as you hear the crying baby. Just when he’s finally resting, he’s woken up by a screaming monster.

“Why were you feeding that baby?” Sukuna tries not to yell, knowing that he’ll just make matters worse by raising his voice. You’re shushing and bouncing the baby, trying to calm him down. Sukuna won’t be so accepting unless you tell him what he wants to hear.

You’ll tell him whatever he wants to hear.

“Your plan worked.” You tell him, standing up from your seat. The anger from Sukuna fades away, as curiosity overtakes him. “I’ll love your babies.”

His eyes widen, and he feels… Joyous? He’s happy. He likes the fact that his plan worked. Though he doubts that it’s going to be easy. You’re holding a baby in your arms, you must want something more.

“As long as you treat him like your own, I’ll love them.” You respond as you hand the baby to Sukuna. He glares down at the screaming child, wondering how the hell you’ve become so attached to this little human in a matter of hours.

“What?” Sukuna questions, refusing to hold the baby in his arms. You have to repeat yourself,

“Treat him as your own son, and I’ll be the mother you want me to be.”

#[bonds of fruition]#ryoumen sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jjk sukuna #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #sukuna jjk #sukuna x you #sukuna jujutsu kaisen #sukuna x y/n #jujutsu sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna

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emmie-tt · 10 months ago

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Warmth

Jacob Black X reader

Description: The heat goes out…luckily you have a furnace for a fiancé

———————————-

Winters in Forks was harsh. It was usually cold anyways but this time of year made it extra cold.

Moving in with your fiancé had gone smoothly, starting your life together and getting to enjoy so much more time together felt like a dream…until the heater stopped working. It of course stopped when Jacob left for patrol leaving you to just nestle in bed, a small space heater on the bedside table as you lay under a pile of blankets.

It was late when he got home, the clock on the wall displaying a time of 3:27 AM. You felt him before you saw him, his side of the bed dipping under his weight as he leans over and gently brushed some hair from your face.

“You awake my love…?”

You nod slightly as a chill runs down your spine, the cold seeping in when he pulls back the covers to climb under them with you. Relief dawns on you quickly though as his overheated arms wrap around your torso and practically yank your shaking body back into his. “How long has the heat been out?”

“Like…six hours I think…” you shrug as you roll in his arms and bury your face against his chest as he rubs up and down your arms to help warm you up.

“I’m sorry darling…i’ll fix it in the morning okay?” he sighs softly when he feels you nod against his chest and his grip on you tightens when he feels yet another chill go through you. His frown quickly turns to a smirk when you pull the blankets over yourself and make a cacoon, not a single bit of yourself visible as you nuzzle up against his body. “Sleep tight my love…”

He smiles when you press a soft kiss to his stomach before he closes his eyes and falls asleep.

The next morning came and when your eyes woke to find the bed empty but the house warm once again confusion grew. Standing from the bed you quickly made your way downstairs where you found Jake sat on the couch scrolling on his phone “You fixed it..?”

He looks up before setting his phone down and nodding. His hands immediately go to your waist when you plant yourself in his lap.

“I did it last night..you were shivering even when asleep so I just had to fix it.”

Your heart melted as you cupped his face and pressed a soft kiss to his lips…this is why you were gonna marry this man…

#jacob black #jacob black x reader #jacob black imagine #twilight x reader #twilight imagine

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propertyofwicked · 11 months ago

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ONE - LN

summary: the quadrant team find themselves in a hotel for the night, but there's just one issue - there's only one bed left.

warnings: none, just fluff ig

a/n: this is so short and i kinda really hate it im so sorry - i think this was requested but i cant find it in my inbox :(

masterlist the playlist

y/n had been working with the quadrant team for a while now, helping out with filming and editing their videos. it was a dream job, honestly, getting to travel around and hang out with friends, even if it meant dealing with a few chaotic moments here and there.

they were on location, ready to shoot some new content for an upcoming video. however, when they arrived at the small hotel only to find that there were only three rooms available for the night, chaos ensued as they tried to figure out the sleeping arrangements. three bedrooms, six beds, six people.

“lando snores - absolutely not,” max called out, grabbing niran quickly.

“y/n wakes up at 6am - absolutely not,” ria followed, grabbing araav too, leaving y/n and lando stood quietly next to each other, assigned to a room despite not getting a word in edgeways.

“it’s a good thing i’m a heavy sleeper,” y/n sighed, looking up at lando who smiled at her softly.

“it’s a good thing i don’t mind waking up early,” lando replied, grabbing her camera bag before leading the two of them to their room. y/n fumbled with the keys, trying to unlock the door quickly.

she opened the door and froze, lando walking straight into her back, not expecting the sudden stop. there, in the middle of the room, was a single double bed. y/n turned back to lando, who was standing behind her with their bags.

“um, lando, we have a problem,” y/n said, stepping aside so he could see.

lando peered into the room and his eyes widened. “oh, great,” he muttered. “one bed.”

“yeah,” y/n said, rubbing the back of her neck, trying not to be saddened by his upset at the situation, “we’ll figure something out.”

“i’ll take the floor. it’s fine,” lando sighed.

“no, you won’t,” y/n shot back. “i’ll take the floor. you need a good night’s sleep for filming tomorrow.”

“so do you,” lando argued. “we can’t have you exhausted either.”

“no, i’ll take the floor,” y/n shot back, crossing her arms defiantly.

“y/n, don’t be ridiculous. i’m not letting you sleep on the floor.”

“well, i’m not letting you sleep on the floor either,” y/n countered, voice firm.

the others watched the back-and-forth with amused expressions, until max finally stepped in, appearing suddenly in the open door.

“you two are adults. just share the bed. it’s not a big deal.”

lando and y/n exchanged hesitant glances. they had been friends for years, sure, but sharing a bed felt... different. still, they both nodded, realising it was the most logical solution.

“fine,” y/n said, a touch reluctantly, “we can share the bed.”

as they got ready for bed, both of them were internally stressing. as y/n stood in the bathroom brushing her teeth, she couldn’t stop thinking about how close they’d be, especially when the mirror gave her the perfect view of lando laying on the bed, arm behind his head as he scrolled his phone. lando was trying to ignore the feeling in his stomach at the thought of lying next to y/n all night, one step away from googling alternatives to a cold shower. still, she climbed into the bed, each of them staying rigidly on their respective sides, trying to give each other as much space as possible - y/n half tempted to set up a pillow between the two to add some distance.

time passed and y/n found it impossible to fall asleep in the unfamiliar bed. she tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position, and with each turn, the sheets rustled loudly in the otherwise silent room. every few minutes, she let out a frustrated sigh, clearly unable to settle.

lando, who was on the verge of falling asleep, noticed y/n’s restless movements. he heard her get up and walk to the bathroom, the sound of the door closing quietly behind them. after a few minutes, y/n returned and climbed back into bed, but the tossing and turning continued.

another sigh escaped y/n, and lando, though exhausted, turned over to face her.

“you okay?” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

“yeah, i just... struggle to sleep in unfamiliar beds,” y/n admitted quietly.

lando sighed, his exhaustion outweighing his nervousness.

“c’mere,” he sighed, exhaustion outweighing his logic as he reached out, gently pulling y/n into his arms.

y/n’s heart raced, her body momentarily freezing up at the sudden contact but she relaxed into lando’s embrace as his hands settled on her hip, fingers extending along her skin. surprisingly, it did help. being close to him, feeling his warmth, was comforting.

as y/n’s breathing evened out, lando assumed she had finally fallen asleep, feeling a mix of relief and adoration for the woman that lay in his arms. he hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding. then, with a gentle, almost hesitant movement, he pressed a soft kiss to y/n’s head.

“good night,” he whispered, his voice tender.

“hmm night,” she mumbled back, barely conscious to recognise what was going on around her. it was better not to dwell.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #formula 1 #mclaren f1 #mclaren #lando norris fluff #propertyofwicked

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1d1195 · 4 months ago

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Buttercup - Extra I

Read Buttercup here ~2.6k words

From me: most of the asks and follow up requests were for showing how in love they are and how Harry' s going to treat her right after she wasn't for so long. Hopefully this will work 💕

Warnings: a little angsty, but fluffy overall. Maybe a little TOO fluffy. Nauseating, if you will. Like eating too many peanut buttercups.

Summary: Moving in next to Harry is one of the best thing that's ever happened to her.

It seemed like it had been raining for weeks. The wind provided an eerie soundtrack to her dreams. The rain sheeting against her window didn’t help either. She wished she had taken Harry’s offer to install a doorbell camera. However, she worried she would stare at it excessively, worried about who could be approaching her house.

Staring at the ceiling she sighed covering her eyes with her palms groaning to herself. The house was too quiet. Of course, she felt safe. It was just the wind and rain adding to her anxious mind. All she needed to do was fall asleep and in the morning everything would be fine. Her phone said it was just after two she still had ample time to sleep before her alarm went off.

Stupid Levi.

She thought she was a pretty independent person. Given that she kept her secret of leaving Levi for a couple months she felt she deserved the title. It took careful planning. Her heart had been in her throat for well over a year prior to her escape.

A little wind and rain shouldn’t have bothered her.

But it did. Every extra sound made it feel like someone was breaking in. They weren’t and she knew it. There was only one person that would try to break in and despite his threat, he hadn’t been back in the months since he showed up unexpectedly.

Two in the morning was too early. It had to be. There had to be a limit. For God’s sake they’d hardly been dating long at all. Swallowing, she put the phone to her ear and sighed as she listened to the quiet ring. One, two, not even three. “’Lo?” He murmured. Clearly, she woke him. Part of her thought she should just hang up and let him sleep. “Buttercup, baby, y’okay?” His voice clearer as she didn’t answer.

Great. Now he’s worried. “Hi,” she whispered.

He chuffed out a breath of laughter. “Hi kitten,” his voice sounded way too good. It should have been illegal to sound that good half asleep. What was the reason? “Y’okay, Buttercup?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause, and she hoped Harry fell back asleep so he wouldn’t worry about her. She could hang up and he wouldn’t even notice. She would tell him he dreamt the whole thing in the morning. “Jus’ wanted t’hear m’voice, then?” He asked.

She sighed heavily. “No...” she shook her head. “Not... no. I woke up and... forget it. I’m sorry. Go back to sleep.”

“Buttercup,” he practically cooed. “Tell me.”

His voice was too soothing. Too enticing. She was pretty sure as independent as she was that if Harry asked or said it, with his pretty voice, she was doomed. He could convince her to rob a bank just by asking. Or quit her job and rub his shoulders all day.

“M’jus’ gonna come over, kitten,” she heard the rustling of his comforter and sheets. The creak of his bedroom door and his quiet footsteps around his house.

“No!” She said quickly, sitting up and pressing a hand to her forehead. “That’s ridiculous, Harry.”

“No, s’not,” he yawned. “S’actually a great idea. This weather keeps waking me up. I need someone t’snuggle with if I want t’save any remainder of m’sleep. I’ll use m’key. See y’in a minute.”

He was gone before she could respond. She threw her covers off and hurried to the front door switching on every light she passed. As she reached the front door, Harry was closing and locking the deadbolt. “Hi, Buttercup,” he grinned, kicking his shoes off. He was soaked from the short walk, the tips of his curls that didn’t stay in his hood dripped on his face. His jacket dripped on her floor (not that she cared). “Let’s go t’bed,” he hung up his coat and pulled her by the hand as he walked back toward her room.

He switched off each light she just turned on, saying nothing about the impromptu visit. In her room he stripped his shirt off making her gulp because even though she had seen Harry many times without a shirt on, he was stunning and made her speechless. He slipped out of his sweats next and all but tossed himself beneath the covers. The poor thing seemed totally exhausted.

“C’mere, kitten,” he mumbled and lifted the covers for her to fall into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered when she was settled into his embrace. He pulled her in, so she was spooned into his body. He was so warm it was insane. She threaded her fingers between his and tucked his hand beneath her chin. His other hand outstretched below her pillow. His lips were at the back of her head. Softly he pressed kisses along the spot on her neck he could reach.

“What are y’apologizing for, Buttercup?”

“For waking you—”

“Y’didn’t wake me,” he interrupted. She huffed because she knew he was lying. Lying to make her feel better. “S’not a big deal,” he decided after a moment. “Getting t’sleep with you s’a great reward.”

“But you had to go out in the rain and it’s late—”

“M’not gonna melt, baby.” She huffed again, irritation evident in the tone of just her breath. “Talk t’me, kitten.”

“I was scared,” she whispered.

He inched his body closer to hers. It seemed impossible as the heat of his thigh on the back of hers felt like she was suntanning in the tropics. “Scared of what, Buttercup?”

She didn’t answer for a moment. “The weather was just loud I guess, and every little noise bothered—”

“M’sorry,” he mumbled and kissed her skin. “I’ll stay when we have bad weather from now—”

“Harry, that’s not your responsibil—”

“You’re m’girlfriend, Buttercup. S’not a chore or anything. S’what m’supposed to do and more than that, I want t’do it. Sleeping with you is one of m’favorite things,” he explained.

“It’s silly. I’m a grown, independent woman and I shouldn’t need my boyfriend to sleep with me because I’m scared of a little weather.”

There was a long pause. She would have thought Harry had fallen asleep if it wasn’t for the fact that he released her hand to use his fingers to trace the skin on her arm. “Y’not scared of weather, Buttercup,” he whispered. She felt her cheeks warm at his accurate statement. “Y’don’t have t’be brave for me. Y’had t’deal with a really scary thing and frankly I’m scared for you. Not because I think he’s going t’come back, but because I know y’think he might, and it scares you and s’not fair for you t’live like that. S’why I sleep with m’phone on full volume. I would sleep over every night if y’asked. I would love t’do that. Jus’ because y’don’t need a lot from me, doesn’t mean y’can’t ask nor deserve it. Y’can be independent and still need me,” he spoke slowly, his reassuring words felt elongated by the night. She felt her eyes sting with tears. Harry saw her so clearly and easily. He didn’t even have to see her to know he needed her. He was willing to lie to her about her own emotions so she wouldn’t feel embarrassed.

“Can you tell me you love me already so I can say it back?”

He chuckled and twisted her around until she faced him in the dark. He cupped her face stroking his thumbs along her cheeks. “Y’could have said it first at any time, baby.”

“Absolutely not. You would have said something mean if I said it first.”

“Mean? Like what?”

“Like... thank you or something, I don’t know. Some silly prank that would make you laugh.”

He chuckled. “S’a good idea.”

“Exactly. Laugh exactly like that. I’m not saying it first. I don’t care how ridiculous that is.”

He brushed his thumb on her lip and leaned in blindly in the dark to press a gentle, warm, firm, and lovely kiss on her lips. It made her dizzy and she couldn’t believe he liked her so much despite her bad attitude and her stubbornness. “I love you, Buttercup,” he whispered softly, his breath fanning across her face.

She couldn’t believe he loved her.

“Thank you,” she sighed dreamily. He snorted, shook his head, and kissed her forehead. “I love you, too.”

“Go t’sleep, Buttercup,” he murmured and tucked her into his chest. “S’jus’ a little wind and rain.”

She fell asleep before he finished his sentence.

When she came home from work, Harry was on her front step. However, he wasn’t waiting for her this time. His attention was fixed right next to the handle of her door. “Hi Buttercup,” he grinned over his shoulder as she approached. “How was your day?” He asked. She stared at him as he continued installing the doorbell camera. “What did y’have for lunch?”

She watched him silently as he worked. “What are you doing?”

He smiled sheepishly. “Nothing, baby,” he shrugged. “Jus’ making sure y’feel safe.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. Harry made her feel so safe all the time. “How—”

“I should’ve done this when we discussed it the first time,” he shrugged one shoulder and then put the screwdriver he was using in the small toolbox he laid on the porch at his feet. “Can I see your phone?” He asked. She opened the bag on her shoulder and handed off her phone. He unlocked it with her passcode. “Now y’can see,” he put a hand on her lower back. “Y’can adjust the sensitivity. Y’probably don’t need t’know every time a squirrel runs across the porch,” he kissed her temple while the back of her eyes started to sting with the threat of tears. “What do y’want t’do for dinner, Buttercup?” She shrugged and turned toward him. She pressed her face into his chest. “Hey, s’matter, kitten?” He hummed kissing the top of her head. “Hey,” he chuckled. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re so nice,” she sniffled.

“Buttercup,” he sighed and squeezed her tighter. “S’what a boyfriend is supposed t’do. I love taking care of you,” he promised her. “S’normal things t’do for you. S’what y’do when we’re in love.”

“I don’t do anything like this for you.”

“Oh, Buttercup, s’not true...” he frowned. “Y’make dinner, y’rub my back, y’made our garden look so much better than I ever could’ve done. And, not t’mention y’kiss me and let me do naughty things t’your pretty body,” he smiled impishly. “So y’do sweet things all the time.”

“But you make me feel safe and I don’t—”

“Buttercup, your existence makes me feel safe. S’my job t’make y’feel safe.”

“Are you guys making out in front of the doorbell to save for later?” Louis called from the yard. “That’s weird.”

Harry flipped him off and tipped her chin up. “S’a good idea,” he winked and pressed his lips against hers.

“I love you,” she sighed.

“Thank you,” he grinned.

She shoved him and he chuckled, pulling her back to his chest. “I love you so much, Buttercup.”

Harry woke up to the smell of something coming from the kitchen. It seemed unlikely that Louis was cooking something because the last time he tried, he thought they were going to need a fire extinguisher. He headed down the hall. “El are y’cooking breakfast?” He yawned rubbing his eye as he did.

“Not quite,” she giggled.

Harry perked up excitedly and quickened the last steps to the kitchen. “Good morning, Buttercup, t’what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked, coming up behind her at the counter. He pressed kisses to the crook of her neck while she worked with the waffle maker. There was an upturned bowl beside her little work station. “This is sweet of you, Buttercup. S’it our anniversary already and I forgot?”

“No,” she smiled. “I just, wanted to do something nice for you.”

“You’re always nice t’me, baby.”

“Well really nice then.”

She pulled the waffle from the iron and placed it under the bowl with three others before putting the bowl back to keep them warm. Harry’s couldn’t stop his hands from roaming her hips and sides. “M’in love with this,” he sighed dreamily. He tucked his face into her neck and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Me making breakfast?” She laughed.

“S’jus’ nice, Buttercup. I would never expect you t’make me breakfast, but s’jus’ thoughtful. You’re perfect.”

“Do you want something extra? You’re being super complimentary.”

“I love you, kitten. Take the compliments,” he chuckled, his words mumbled and obstructed by the way he pressed his mouth to her skin. She focused on the waffle again and remained quiet for a few moments. Then Harry realized the error of his words. “S’probably hard to take the compliments, hmm?” She shrugged one shoulder but didn’t say anything; confirming exactly what Harry already knew. “Well, s’a good thing I like complimenting you. S’good practice for you t’get used to it,” he peppered her cheek with kisses. “Can I help y’with something?” He asked.

She smiled. “No, I’m just going to put this on the table.”

Harry was so distracted by how pretty she looked in his kitchen early in the morning, making him breakfast, he didn’t even notice how cute the table looked. There were flowers in a vase in the middle. Four plates and sets of silverware set up like they were at a restaurant. There were strawberries, blueberries, chocolate chips, whipped cream, and butter. Orange juice and a tray of four coffees from their favorite shop nearby.

“You’re incredible,” he pulled her away from the waffle iron as she set the last one. He wrapped one arm around her waist, cupped her face with the other and tipped her back to kiss her. Her lips were so soft and so warm. his heart started pounding like he had never kissed anyone before. She tasted so good, sweeter than the yummy waffles they were about to eat. He couldn’t help but smile as he kissed her. He used to love pranking her; the joy he felt was unmatched when he made her grumpy. God, kissing her was triple the dopamine, quadruple the serotonin. It felt almost illegal to be so happy. It spread all through his body.

“Harry,” she giggled against his mouth. “Breakfast.”

“You taste better,” he mumbled not pausing his kisses against her mouth.

“At least taste the waffles before you insult them,” she whispered pulling back slightly while he dotted kisses along her face while she spoke.

He squeezed her tight to his body, tucking his face back into her neck as he did. “Hey Buttercup?” His voice muffled once more by her skin and his reluctance to move from her body.

“Yeah?”

It warmed Harry how easily she answered to the little name. She was lovely. Perfect. The best thing to happen to Harry. While he hated why she had to move into their neighborhood, he was so grateful her pretty self created a home right next door. He pulled back to cup her face, skimmed his thumb on her cheek. “You deserve compliments.”

He didn’t follow it up with anything cute. Didn’t even compliment her afterwards. He wanted it to sink into her brain—even if it only sank in an inch. He would tell her every day. She deserved all the best and Harry was happy to remind her of such and do whatever he needed to make her feel that way.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He kissed her forehead. “I’ll go get El and Lou.”

“Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you lots.”

“Me too, Buttercup. So much,” he winked heading down the hall.

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionvoid @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissinthekitchen @boopookie @indierockgirrl @stylesfever @michellekstyles

@just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows @hannah9921

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@rose-girls-world @claimingharrystigertattoo @inlikea-coolway @theseaview @lunaharrygurl @emmie2308 @fruity-harry @somebunnybaby @avas-queen-black @mema10 @tulips4harry @sturnrc @sassamanda77 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @mp-269 @jmp1494 @fangirl509east @sideboobrry11 @drewrry @dutchtheatrelore @copiastricycle @mypolicemanharryyy @harry2121

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #neighbor!harry #buttercup

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galene-gothic · 5 months ago

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2025 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌

୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ I hope this reading found you in good health, every reblog is appreciated and thank you for everything :) ˖♡ ˎˊ˗ ꒰ 🐇 ꒱

ˏˋ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ˎˊ˗ PAID SERVICES TIP JAR

CHRISTMAS & NEW YEAR SALE AND OFFERS

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 1 ꒱

(Note: I started your pile towards the end of the year so terms such as ‘this year’ likely means 2024 when it comes to the summary. Thank you for stopping to read and I hope that you enjoy your reading thoroughly.)

꒰ A summary of 2024 for you ꒱

You started this year with a grand mindset. You wanted to expand yourself, your life and make the most out of it by creating abundance by yourself. You basically wanted to turn your life around. I’m getting that your mindset was fairly good because you seem to have already turned something around for yourself by that point which is why you felt so confident in your vision. You were very driven to succeed and were not going to accept anything lesser than what you wanted. You were also curious, taking ideas from where you can get them, gaining knowledge from where you can so that you could make something out of your vision and you had broken free from many limitations, your mindset was not limited, negative beliefs were not present and you were dreaming big, you were also acting according to your vision like taking inspired action to the best of your capabilities. You were very empowered and driven at that time, you also had the understanding that life is a cycle but now that the year has come to an end, you’re someone who lacks work life balance and is not satisfied with how much you did causing you to feel ungrounded. Due to how much potential and time you had, and how you wasted it, you’re feeling stuck in life. You might have been looking into your past earnings and spendings (like this year’s spendings), and feeling disappointed, and a lack in terms of finances as well. You seem to be adjusting your priorities around this time. You are feeling some financial or career pressure, mostly because you didn’t do as much as you could or wanted to do. You had great potential to create stable foundations for yourself in terms of money, goals and career specifically, you could have truly grown but it’s just disappointing how your investments were either not done well by you, like you seem to have lacked follow through or consistency or things are just going slowly, you haven’t given up, you’re still trying but you’re feeling insecure about disappointing yourself because you know how much potential you had. You probably feel like you spent a lot of money as well.

You’re interested in connections at this moment, you’re hoping that next year things will be different and you’ll have close heartfelt one on one connection(s). You failed consistency and hard work, and you feel shitty about it. Your love life was pretty much non existent or very unpeaceful. If your love life was non existent or even if it was not, you dealt with difficulty with falling asleep at some point within this year, many of you could in fact be dealing with this these days itself. You could have felt embarrassed of the people you dated in the past or looking back at the way things were, you feel ashamed and depressed because you didn’t deserve that. I’m getting many of you being up in your heads in regard to love. There were also worries and anxiety regarding love at some point regardless of whether you were involved with someone or not. When it comes to your family, you seem to have been as responsible as you can be but you realised that you weren’t doing as much as you could and may have recently fixed it or are trying to do so. There’s this thing about you growing your family life in some way but being more focused on money, career, work, etc. than family because that’s the way you seem to care about them? In terms of friendships, you seem to be pretty decisive. It could have been the year when you cut friends or a friend off with a sense of decisiveness that you didn’t possess in the previous years. You are disappointed career wise, it’s not like you didn’t try but you feel like you prioritised comfort and leisure over proper investments and work. You feel like if you had been decisive to what you wanted to follow through in the beginning of the year, you’d not be left right where you started. It seems to pain you pretty deeply to not be able to make as much progress as you wanted to but despite, the disappointment you feel, you’re trying to have an even judgement going forward and not be too hard on yourself. You’re rethinking your mindsets, priorities, etc. and have had an awakening of some sort. You do not want to stray off your path next year and want to do better so that you do not feel disappointed in yourself, and your life again.

꒰ How will 2025 go for you? ꒱

The main theme of the year 2025 for you is going to be to recognise your values, actions and intentions when it comes to romance, beauty, and one on one connections in general. You’re also going to have to acknowledge where you tend to go wrong in terms of connections. If you had a love life in 2024 and are going into 2025 with that person, you’ll break free from them because the situation seems toxic i.e. one that makes you anxious, makes you feel negatively about yourself or life, makes your mind race or/and cause you sleepless nights. However, the rest of you are going to be alone or at least internally focused, causing you to attain a lot of wisdom and also grow to love your own company more. There are going to be hard truths that you’re going to learn about romance, connections and the opposite gender in the coming year. You’re also going to learn how to not put all your eggs into one basket, not out of lack of loyalty but out of self respect, by the end of the year, you’re going to grow into someone who is not going to commit to uncommitted situations. You’re going to be pretty unwilling to commit as well because you’re not going to find what you’re looking for. Your focus in the year 2025 should be on your commitment, attachment and abandonment issues. Protect yourself and keep in mind what people are capable of doing, how they may hurt or abandon you and make peace with it, knowing that that has nothing to do with you and everything to do with them. I also suggest that you hold back on sharing your feelings, money, energy and presence during the year. You’re being told to save money. Also, hold yourself as your most prized possession. Not from a place from insecurity or narcissism but from an empowered place where you understand that you’re so valuable that anyone who leaves you behind is clearly dumb because someone else would break their back and bank in order to have something even half as precious. “Some people won’t be able to afford me” is the kind of mindset you should have. When I say ‘afford’, I do not mean that you’re a commodity but that you’re very valuable and some people simply won’t have the resources required to match up to the vibration where they could get and coexist with you. Please just have more faith in yourself and don’t give yourself away to people who do not live up to your standards action-wise because as the old saying goes “actions speak louder than words.” You’re going to get opportunities that are going to keep you very busy but there are going to be opportunities for distractions and long term uncommitted connections as well. You could get an opportunity that allows you to grow from within your comfort zone itself or will push you out of it, tiring you out. You’re going to have incredibly strong intuition and an access to information, and wisdom from a higher source out of nowhere or through a medium (youtube, audios, people, etc.) but will have a hard time trusting all of this. It is important for you to push for the truth by being a clear thinker who observes situations well, and spends time putting two and two together. You’re being told that your intuition will often be supported by the physical reality, it’s just that words might fool you so you need to be very vigilant and observant because actions can’t be faked. You’re being told that people can have bad intentions but they usually do have good ones, but even so, their actions are often bad so it should not be that difficult to connect the dots. There might be trouble in terms of education, skill building, team work, etc. You’re going to get in touch with a very unconscious side of yourself and your psyche that you didn’t even know existed, it’s going to be scary, confusing and you might not like many things that you might see but you’ll grow your depth, and will develop a stronger understanding of yourself going forward.

You’re going to see your own darker qualities and will also realise where you’ve faced deceit from yourself or others. I’m getting a lot of truth coming out but also a very glazed energy, like you won’t be sure what’s real and what’s not, it’s going to be difficult to differentiate between truth and illusion, and you’re going to hurt a lot. You could also face major endings this year. It doesn’t even have to be external or something that you’re aware of but you’re going to grow to be more humble, stability and career driven, and will be ethical, and consistent. You’re going to learn a lot about productivity and work ethic during the year. I’m getting that the ending is going to be more a spiritual thing by the way. In terms of romance, you’re either going to have a very light hearted and reckless approach or a very serious one but you’re going to break free definitely. You’ll understand that you’re very powerful and that oftentimes, romance has caused you to think of yourself with a sense of inferiority but that you being fooled back then doesn’t mean you can’t just reclaim your power. If you aren’t involved with people and won’t be at that time, you will try to stop thinking about situations and people because you’ll have realised that the only power anyone or anything can have is the attention that you give it. In terms of family, if you have had a bad past with them, you’re going to be pretty apathetic honestly. Especially when it comes to past complaints or negative memories that you may have of them, you’re going to accept and heal those instead of thinking about them every time something occurs within the household. You’re going to have a lot of empathy for your family but will also have the emotional intelligence to know that you didn’t deserve certain things that you may have had to go through because of them. You’re still going to forgive and love them though, and if you have a good relationship with them with a good past, you’re going to be contemplative and will find that certain members within it truly help you heal, like it will just be something that you’ll be grateful for even if it’s something that you’re so used to that you’ve started taking for granted but there’s going to be a lot of understanding and love that you’ll be extending from your side. Your career and finances are going to expand, and will likely bring in a lot of abundance, and understanding of your own path. You will likely think back to days when things weren’t as good and will be grateful. You should focus on management of money and time, and make sure you don’t spend, work or play excessively. If you’re consistent and manage your time, and resources well, 2025 will bring in so much money and career growth for you. Your own hopeful and well influenced qualities will be affecting 2025 but you’ll not even notice it. You might notice it now that I’ve pointed it out to you but it is going to heavily affect your year despite how unnoticed it will be. You’re going to do most things out of love and the love, and hope that you’ve received at any point in the past is going to help you do your best during this year. You’re also going to be more loved and influential that you might consider yourself to be, you’ll likely not be aware of the extent. My advice for you for next year is to communicate or at least think through emotionally unstable, uncomfortable or unsatisfying moment properly. Try not to react impulsively to negative thoughts and emotions. The outcome is going to be self contentment, you being able to stand up for yourself and possibly experiencing losses. Due to how much ‘breaking free’ energy I’ve received for you, it could be that you’ll start fighting back instead of silently taking it causing people to get upset but even if it’s something different, you will be more regretful about engaging with such people or situations than losing them because it’ll be their loss, not yours. Thank you for reading, much love and take care.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 2 ꒱

꒰ A summary of 2024 for you ꒱

You started the year with a passionate energy but it could have been overconfident in nature. I’m getting that your mindset was scattered in some way. You were thinking about many things and hence, were feeling a lot as well. You had had enough reality checks by then but these reality checks were the very thing that were causing you to feel overwhelmed. I’m getting a lot of passion, frustration, anger, impatience from you, like your mind was all over but it was still very passionate. Your hard work was paying off in some way. It could simply be that you had grown enough to grow out of certain situations and were persevering to build a better future for yourself. Despite the places your mind was at, you were maintaining patience. You could have wanted to grow something in the previous year, like at the beginning of it but were tired and were trying not to overdo it but you had already worked long, and hard to build yourself to that point as well. You were very committed and perseverant towards your goals. Even situations that caused you frustrations, anger and overthinking were situations that you managed to gain from. It was disheartening for you that what you had previously invested in, thinking that it had grown or wanting it to had disappointed and failed you. You were working on growth and your goals, and giving up was not an option for you. I’m honestly getting a lot of disappointments, anger and passion, like even though these feelings are different, passion being positive and the other two being negative, they were all very strong. The reality checks that you had were something you didn’t want to have, you really wanted situations to work and it broke your heart that you were starting to see the reality of things, and accept it. You also felt frustrated at yourself for not seeing and accepting the truth of situations early on. The illusions that you had previously attached yourself to emotionally were something that you were breaking out of and it felt overwhelming, it also felt good and like you were making progress but it was also heartbreaking. You could have been trying to balance these overwhelming emotions by grounding yourself in reality and having something to do in real life because you had cracked the code by then that the best way to deal with emotions, illusions, excessive daydreaming and just things that feel real but also feel illusive is by immersing yourself in real life, in your daily routines and simply just having a life grounded in reality itself. You had already overcome a lot of instability and feelings of being left out in the cold, isolated, insecure, etc. You were still in the process of healing more of these. There could have been a point when reality was so bad that you were unconsciously or subconsciously trying to hold onto whatever illusions you could find comfort in but they led to nothing but wasted time, pain, hurt and disappointments in the long term of things. At that time, you were getting rid of all of that and had already managed to significantly do so. I’m also picking up on these situations being partially real or at least very real emotionally. For example, if a kid got bullied for being ugly and worthless during their middle school days, even if it never extends beyond harsh words, snickers and humiliation, it will definitely terribly humble them and even destroy their self esteem. It could have not seemed that serious because “people will say things, you can’t take everything to heart and it’s not bullying because it never got physical” but to that kid, it feels real, it felt real, it will feel real even after they’ve grown up and it is just so deeply ingrained in their psyche, and emotionality. They will still feel as though they’re unwelcome, others are trying to ridicule and humiliate them, others think that they’re worthless, others will treat them unfairly, leave them out, etc.

I’m literally crying because these situations that emotionally affected you but didn’t seem to be ‘that big of a deal’ in the physical world seem to have happened a lot, as well as other negative things that were very real but you weren’t aware of the extent of them in the past. At the beginning of 2024, your soul had overcome a lot and was still in the process of doing so. You know how people say that they just randomly got over something? That was sort of what happened but again, the reality is that you didn’t just get over it. Like, you took half a decade to mourn but randomly stopped mourning as much on a random day is the vibe that I’m getting. You also spent so much time by yourself, feeling hurt, lonely and isolated that you got used to it, and not only that but also developed a sense of solace within yourself, and life itself. You might have not realised when this happened but it had already happened by the beginning of the previous year. You were forgiving situations, people and even yourself. There were two paths that you could have followed during the previous year, one was the path of stability but also more isolation and less self expression but you would have accomplished a lot of your goals or one where you were spending more money, not saving, doing your best in terms of work because you lacked consistency and were just burnt out, and tired all the time and not being able to maintain a routine, etc. but were able to develop more of a style and sense of self expression. No matter what path you took, you did it well and I’ve gotta applaud you for that. By the end of the year, you had a major shift in mindset, you had become much more empowered and just felt more in power, and control than you did in the past years. “You’re burning up, I’m cooling down. You’re up, I’m down. You’re blind, I see but I’m free.” When you were younger, you struggled with feelings of inferiority and powerlessness. Especially in the previous years, there was a sense of power, mental, emotional, spiritual and possibly physical poverty. Everything you experienced broke you down little by little and possibly even crushed you completely at some point. Your mindset had become one of obsession, negativity and powerlessness but by the end of the previous year, you had grown into someone who had more control and power over their own mind, and you also had this realisation that your power is yours, and it’s impossible to truly strip you off it. In the past, people and situations managed to make you feel disempowered, helpless and honestly pathetic but by the end of 2024, you had grown out of it. You seem to have learned the lesson of at least trying to keep your mind as clean as possible. “The only power anything has over you is your attention.” You have understood just how powerful and worthy you are, and it did break your heart that you didn’t realise it sooner but by the end of the year, you were feeling confident, warm and authentic. You were happy to have gotten back to yourself and your power even if it took a lot of time for you to get there. You also really value this mindset, sense of power and confidence within yourself because you know what it is like to not have it. You seem to be content being your authentic self again and having an empowered mindset but what I need to address is the way you act. You were not being very honest towards the end of the year and might still be this way. Like, you could have lied about little things here and there, or maybe you didn’t even lie but you just don’t expose what you do, what your life is like, what your emotionality is like, etc. to other people. You seem to be very private and in fact, very secretive. You are willing to take risks and are very strategic. You could be highly interested in keeping up a certain image and might feel like you’re unable to do so. It could be something you’re dealing with right now or die when you were in the end of the previous year.

I’m getting the desire to have a refined ‘persona’ but one thing that I need to tell you and it’s something that you already know is that all you need to do is be yourself. You’re naturally quite secretive. Don’t fake yourself entirely in order to become a persona. You can take good qualities of yourself and exaggerate them but you still do not have to be perfect. You had grown to be very comfortable with yourself by the end of the year but you may be hard on yourself in regards to actions, words and image, you care a lot about how you come across to others by the way you present yourself. You’re being told to be yourself but still keep your inner world away from other’s reach, let little parts of yourself and your life trickle through but make sure it’s out of reach for people until they’ve earned it. You’re naturally good at this though, just reflect on the past, you’ve always been good at this but you’re also good at reaching into other people’s inner world and exposing a vulnerable part of it to them. You had grown to be content and abundant by the end of the year, in terms of emotions especially. You’ve made significant progress when it comes to authenticity this year. You’re being told to refine yourself further and also your persona because you seem to truly want to do it but not to remove authenticity from it. It’s not even like you need to be deliberately crafting a persona, as long as you’re yourself because you’ve already learned how to be very secretive. You’re also resourceful and have found a way to get what you want even if you’re not entirely honest about certain things. Like, for example, I’m currently volunteering at a campaign for underprivileged children even though it’s only for college students but Sir Warrick has fit me in by lying that I’m a university student xD. Is it a big lie? Not really. Did I get what I want? Yes. Your soul has already gained contentment and abundance. I’m getting an almost happy go lucky energy from your soul. 2024 could have been a busy and fast year for you, one where you were constantly on the go. This could have been in two ways, either that you were busy working and had a lot on your plate work wise or were going out a lot, developing personal style, expression, etc. but still had personal and work responsibilities to deal with so the year just passed by in the blink of an eye for you. You learned a lot about the mind, keeping it in the right place, gained clarity about things and have gotten in touch with your reasonable and powerful side during the previous year, and also learned more about the importance of being active. You seem to know by now that having something to keep you engaged is the best way to retain your power because you’ll be grounded in reality and within yourself, and won’t have much time to overthink. You have a desire to retain your power by being reasonable, intelligent, sharp and knowing how to create, and set firm boundaries. You also want to be more active, accomplishing your goals and being someone who leads by action rather than word. This is why you seem to be really critical of yourself when it comes to your image and persona but trust me, as long as you’ve got a firm and strong character within yourself, and are leading with kindness, compassion and well worked out actions, you’re doing fine but yes, you do seem to have people who like to disrespect and ridicule you without you having done anything, make sure that you stand up for yourself but do so as calmly as possible, and just try to avoid such individuals. It’s better to not waste your breath, energy and words on such people, and situations. Prevention is better than cure as they say, if people seem to disrespect you for no reason, just avoid them entirely because these kinds of people only disrespect you the more they get to know you.

꒰ How will 2025 go for you? ꒱

2025 for you is going to be a year of a lot of overthinking, illusions, etc. but also being so over it that your year will be about clarity, awareness of your depth, lessons from deep within your psyche, etc. You’re going to move on from a lot of your ways that you’re deeply stuck in. “You can’t deny, how hard I’ve tried. I changed who I was to put you both first but now I give up.” In the past, you were under the illusion that maybe you should be more sacrificing for harmonious connections but as you grew older, you realised that the more you bent over backwards for others, the more they stepped all over you, you realised that it was not harmonious but in fact, unfair and harmful to you. It led to a deep dive into your own psyche and hence, shame like were you doing all that out of desperation? If all of this has not yet happened, it is going to happen this year in very extreme ways. There was also this thought of maybe you just weren’t enough because stripping yourself off of who you were and your own needs was not enough for others. By the end of the previous year itself, you had become very aware of your own power and had grown to be less ashamed, and more accepting of yourself - the good and the bad so I would say that you’re going to grow on that, and move on from a lot. You’re still going to be carrying baggage of the past but you’re going to be unwilling to return to places, situations and emotions that had you feeling so helpless. This year, you’re getting the opportunity to free yourself from other people’s over domination over you. You seem to have a dormant sense of dominance and aggression to you that you do not tap into or express but some others can pick up on it, leading to them feeling aggressive too and feeling the need to over exercise control over you, and those who don’t underestimate you, and try to walk all over you. In the past, people succeeded to trap you and control you, pretty much making you work according to them like a marionette, their doll that they’re using threads to control. There seems to be a theme in friendships, particularly opposite sex ones where you find out that they viewed you as an option or someone to rely on, flirt with, share an emotional connection with as a replacement for a romantic one, etc. rather than a genuine friendship and it has left you feeling used, and in romance, there seems to be a lack of commitment that you’ve experienced from others and there was likely a point, when you stuck in such situations, and you’re going to look back at it and go “gosh, I was so stupid”, you’re going to low-key (high key honestly) bully yourself because why weren’t you enough and mostly why did you think that you weren’t enough? Why did you act like you weren’t enough by sticking in such situations? You’ve had a history of being an underachiever because situations in the past caused you to have a crushed esteem and you were not able to have practical routines when younger. You used to lack follow through, resources and were honestly lazy to a certain extent in the past, making it easy for others to underestimate you because you were underachieving and stuck in situations that anyone with a healthy esteem would not even think about entertaining but you’re going to manage to grow out of it this year. This is making me heavily emotional. You could also meet people - acquaintances and friends who help you move on from the past that haunts you in some way but it’s going to be a journey that you’re going to have to take on on your own, you’re going to have to get over it in the comfort of your own home, bed, space and mind. Your inner world is going to bring about a lot of shame, fears and lack of empowerment, you’re going to blame yourself for being so stupid in the past but you’re going to move on from it at some point, finally being able to see light at the end of the tunnel. The laziness and lack of discipline that you previously had deeply ingrained within you is going to be something you break in order to protect your ego.

You’re going to break free from the people, systems and situations that previously abused their power over you. You’re also going to get rid of your own overthinking and powerlessness, and need for control significantly. You’re going to start by feeling angry at yourself for everything that you had to experience but will direct that rage onto those who hurt you and honestly, used you in some way but you’ll use these experiences in order to shape better routines, habits, discipline, common sense, groundedness into yourself and your life. Some of you could have quite literally gotten bullied by your friends, family, lovers, acquaintances, classmates, etc. in the past or a group of all of them causing you to have a lot of trauma. You’re going to struggle with seeing your power and influence, and how amazingly great you are despite your dualities during this year. You’re going to be bullying yourself very heavily. There could be moments when you’re more play than work but there are also going to be moments when you’re very serious, lacking play. You’re likely to struggle with materialising your potential into reality due to your over playfulness or over seriousness. Like, the energy that I’m getting is that when you’ll work, you’ll work so seriously and in extremes, burning yourself out completely. You’re going to have to learn how to manage your time and energy properly, and figure out what works for you during this year but it’s going to be difficult for you because you’re going to have a lot of disempowering thoughts in your mind triggered by the past or of the past itself that will feel very real to you. Your focus should be on your pure heart, try to keep your heart as light as possible because your mind is going to be very heavy and hence, unload onto your heart. I’m getting the siren lore coming through (both the fish and bird ones). You’re being told to beautify yourself and try to present yourself properly without being too hard on yourself. You’re being told that you need to ‘feel it’ in order to become it. Correct yourself to feel the way you want as many times as you need to. You are being told to have faith in yourself and courage, and determination in your path. You’re being told to focus on how pure hearted you are and understanding that it was their loss, and that the more you think about past situations, the more power you’re giving them. You’re being told to pursue your goals and are being told that in regards to love connections, you like pure hearted, childlike, fun and innocent ones, so you should not settle for anything lesser than that. Don’t ever fall for desperation. This year, you’re going to learn how to be more biased and less committal because you’ll know what it is like to be in one sidedly committed situations. Also, you’re going to realise the unfairness of your previous investments, be it in connections or something else. You’re going to understand where you were the one struggling to properly invest time, energy and resources to certain activities, causing you to not reap the ideal results. Basically, you’re going to find out where you’re lacking action wise or are not allotting time and energy properly. You’re going to find a sense of belonging within yourself and are going to close cycles, moving forward steadily. Work wise, you’re going to lack consistency but you’re still not going to lack perseverance. For example, you want to keep a routine throughout the month, you might be unable to do so but you’ll still make sure you complete your work. Everything that will be weighing on your mind and heart will make it difficult for you to work consistently. You’re going to waste a lot of energy thinking about the past and worrying about the future, when you could use it to build your career instead. Still you’re going to go very far from where you previously were or currently are. You’re not really going to be in a bad place, in fact, you’re going to be reaping a lot of what you’ve grown and will be looking forward to more by the end of the year.

What I think is going to happen is that cycles of the past that you’re unable to close, sudden negative changes that have or will happen will affect you without your knowledge. Now that I’ve told you, it’s going to be something you have more awareness of but it’s still going to be quite unconscious to you. You’re going to be morally guided, these morals were likely passed down to you by a teacher or someone you met in an institution like a school, if not it could simply be the institution itself held those values but you’re going to be trying to go about things very ethically and are going to let go of more insecurities than you did the previous year, major healing is on the way. My advice to you is that this year has high potential for letting go of the past without regrets. Forgive and forget because that way things won’t have a power on you anymore. There’s no point of holding onto anger, regrets, disappointment, shame and aggression. Yes, you were wronged but you being wronged is what has caused extreme changes in your life, while they might not feel good and probably make you, and made you feel unstable, it’s only a signal to you to ground yourself further and build yourself more, and more. You do not have to forgive people externally, forgive them within yourself in order to heal your own heart. You’re a romantic person but any sort of romance you’ve experienced, even the slightest trace of it has caused the rug to be pulled from underneath your feet without any warning but embracing these changes is the only way to go otherwise, you’re going to experience lack for a longer time than you have to, you’re going to feel unstable and lack abundance for longer. The main theme of your relationships are forgiveness, grudges, extreme pain and healing. The outcome is going to be - you being unwilling to compromise and work with others, and choosing your personal goals over emotions. You’re going to love people but your sense of responsibility for yourself, your passions and competitions is going to be higher. You’re going to be unwilling to let anyone walk all over you, causing you to have aggressive fights or at least some tension in your connections. In your familial connections, you’re going to hold love for them but it’s going to be stifled in some way. There’s going to be a lack of love, passion, trust, belonging and support in all your connections or at least that’s how you’re going to feel. You’re going to be more defensive and authentic in who you are by the end of this year. You’re not going to be willing to bend down to anyone. You’re also going to be lonely but are not going to be feeling that way. Well, you will feel that way but you’ll prioritise character, actions and the inner world a lot so you are going to have your priorities in the right place, knowing that money is important but still not enough to bring about true happiness. You’re going to be a bit arrogant but will have a lot of silent power because you’re going to prioritise your own character and actions too. You’re going to be unwilling to make excuses and will be hard on yourself when you do something that you’re not proud of but you’ll remind yourself that others walked all over you so much in the past, it’s just the frustrations pouring out and that while it is still not an excuse to be so aggressive at times and have anger tantrums at the wrong time, on the wrong people, and situations, you’re going to choose to do better because you’ll feel a lot of shame but will still be trying to not ruminate over something you cannot change. You’re going to have a strong desire to be yourself at all costs and will be very aggressive, be it internally or externally when someone tries to change or question that. You’re going to set strong boundaries and will mind being an aggressive bitch to others but will understand that you were pushed to such a limit and won’t be too hard on yourself for too long. Thank you for reading, much love and take care.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 3 ꒱

꒰ A summary of 2024 for you ꒱

The overall theme of 2024 for you was aggression and competitiveness driven towards or by past events, and people. It doesn’t seem to be a bad thing honestly. The past seems to have been on your mind quite heavily but even so, you managed to build yourself a lot. In the past, you could have dealt with competitive friends who used to humble you in subtle ways, in fact you dealt with acquaintances who used to try to humble you in subtle or well, straightforward ways and you used these events of the past to go after your goals, and push forward with passion, and determination because you wanted to be taken seriously and most importantly, you wanted to take yourself seriously. There was also some anger towards a past person who you shared a deep, triggering but oddly comforting bond with even though you knew them for a short time or possibly a long time because they didn’t keep in touch with you or something like that. What I find really funny here is that you probably still have mixed feelings towards this person, like such a soft spot but such a weak one, so much love and affection but equal amount of resentments, anger and complaints. You started the previous year with a contemplative energy, you were thinking a lot about self love and your own sensitive nature, and also how much love and empathy you provided others with, with hopes of receiving basic respect and treatment. You were thinking about desperation, self love and all of that. Action wise, you were breaking free from a lot of limitations, hurt, pain, fears, sorrow, devastation, suffering and powerlessness. That’s how you were building foundations for your new life, little by little, step by step. I just heard ‘baby steps’, so well maybe you were falling a lot before you started walking in a more balanced manner. Emotionally and relationship wise, you were overwhelmed, you just felt like you lacked fulfilment and abundance in this part of your life, and you were closed off to love because you really value the deep aspects of love, and intimacy, and also value emotions, and love beyond just the earthly way in which people seem to love. You don’t want something superficial, you want something deep, all consuming yet still allows you to be yourself. You also value the character of the other person, you want them to offer more than just material value to you and you found it difficult to find people who truly appeal to you. You felt independent and lonely, and unloved but you were extending that love to yourself and trying to nourish yourself, and build yourself character wise as well because to you, your character is of utmost importance. Like, if you do something that you’re not proud of or realise that you’ve drifted away from your true character, it weighs pretty heavily on you. You wanted to become someone who you could be proud of in terms of character. You were honestly sorta sad but you were trying to see the light, find hope and optimism, even if you overdid it sometimes. You wanted to grow stability, groundedness, character, career and money. In terms of life, you could have decided to follow where the grass seemed greener. You just kind of left situations suddenly, not wanting to take negativity into your new year. You were looking forward to your future and were looking inwards for wisdom, and guidance. I’m not getting a lot of human interaction from you at that time or it was just not interaction that affected you in any way. By the end of the year, you had grown to have control over your mind and knew how powerful you truly are. You wanted to grow this power more but for the right reasons. You wanted to become more reliable as a person and felt the need to be responsible, reasonable and have a strong character that you maintain steadily. You had also become very graceful and well influenced by the end of the year. Wanting to be gentle and having a lot of hope despite any chaos that you may have experienced in the previous years.

You’ve become friendly but you had already and were still overcoming obstacles with grace, making you have faith in yourself and life itself. Emotionally, you had developed a deep understanding of yourself already and were in the process of getting an even deeper understanding of yourself, and your own psyche. You were committed to fairness, wanting to be fair to others and yourself i.e. if someone made a choice of any sort, if they did or said anything, they’d have to deal with the consequences of what comes out of it. “You make your bed, you sleep in it” is the vibe that I’m getting here. You had become someone who was slightly hard on yourself because you wanted to remain in control of yourself and have a great character, one that is reliable, responsible and built so strongly, it can’t be broken down. You had already accomplished a lot and built a lot for yourself, and especially within yourself but you wanted to do more, you wanted to be more. “When you’re not growing, you’re regressing” and you didn’t want to regress so you were hard on yourself so you’d not get complacent and instead could continue growing. You were also tired of constantly working on yourself and your life but you were also slightly proud of yourself. You were persevering in life, not letting yourself break or give up. You had developed a lot of courage because your life forced you into situations where you had no choice but to develop and channel such a side. You’ve learned the importance of not yelling at people and having temper tantrums in the previous year. You’ve also learned the importance of equality and healthy power dynamics in relationships. You also learned the importance of giving without expecting returns though, maybe you just learned that you felt good when you gave to others wholeheartedly without any expectations. You learned that power is silent and that you do not need to be externally well reputed or popular in order to have power. You could have quite literally learned the power of silence. “Communication is key but it is better not to communicate with those who are not willing or capable enough to understand you.” You learned the importance of self love and not over empathising, also that being too hard on yourself is something you need to stop doing. You learned that the emotional intelligence and empathy that you give others should be something you extend to yourself as well. You learned how to learn and be more humble, you also learned how to hold silent power by letting others underestimate or try to humble you but not being able to because you have developed a healthy esteem and life for yourself where you’re content and don’t think or feel like you’re superior or inferior to anyone but are grateful to have all that you have.

꒰ How will 2025 go for you? ꒱

2025 is going to be the year of growing to become more mature and wise. The main theme of the year is domesticity of some sort. Your year could revolve around community of some sort, home, stability, family, etc. This year is going to allow you to hide yourself by straying you far from yourself, you’re going to feel like you’re unable to be your authentic self and are either going to be forced to hide by circumstances or are going to do so yourself. Also, despite moments of pessimism, you’re going to have that sense of ‘not giving up’ within you. You’re going to be trying to find hope, some light desperately and will find it but there is going to be a sense of not being your authentic self at some point during the year. Also, being unseen and hiding yourself. Like I said earlier, it could be deliberate or something that life brings to you. You’re going to struggle with emotional attachments and detachments, you’ll probably not want to let go of certain people, situations or ways despite them not fulfilling you. I’m picking up on a sense of emotional overwhelm but also detachment pushing you far from your normal self, making you realise how unauthentic you’ve become, how far you’ve strayed from yourself and hence, helping you grow by making you unseen for a while so that you can learn how to improve yourself instead of prove yourself. You should focus on keeping your zest for life alive and remaining confident with a healthy self esteem during this year. You’re going to grow in big ways, becoming more secure within yourself, valuing stability, refining virtues present within you and instilling new ones, etc. For those of you who earn, you might save up or might have an increase in income. You’re going to be more grounded within yourself outside of external validation because it’s going to be your year of spending more time at home, re-evaluating what domestic bliss means to you and remaining unseen in some way. This is going to be the year when you’re either going to give more than you’re receiving out of responsibility or will realise the unfairness in your connections in the past. If not, you might have already realised it and you’re going to be very weary of give and take during this year. Despite this weariness, there’s a genuine desire to give without expectations of receiving anything. Romantically, you’re going to be someone with discernment. You’re going to be someone who doesn’t place unfair blame on others and yourself. “He did this so I can’t interact with him anymore but no hard feelings” is the vibe that I’m getting here. You’re going to feel like taking things personally and holding grudges doesn’t do anything except make one relive the pain. Familial connections will be healing as by the end of the year, you’re going to want to provide for them and simply just be someone of rich character so you’re going to forgive them and not get mad or at least act out of anger when it comes to them.

Platonically, you could have conversations with people through texting but I’m getting quality time and fun with people being fleeting. You’re should be more patient when it comes to finances, studies, career, skills, etc. You’re being told to put in work consistently and wait for results to show instead of fearing the unknown, and stopping to reanalyse things again and again. Time management, money management, etc. could be really tricky during this year. You could maintain a delicate balance but you have to make sure that you keep your priorities straight because there is definitely a chance that you’re going to feel disappointed at the time and resources you wasted when looking back. For those of you remaining focused, you’re simply going to be busy and maintaining things very delicately. Yes, you might make mistakes here and there but you’re going to manage to have something to show for the efforts that you put in throughout the year. Besides, even if you do not have anything to show for your efforts, your success will be found in your daily routines and I think that’s a lot xD. You’re going to have pride and a desire for recognition that you’ll be unaware of you that will be motivating your actions during the year. For example, when reevaluating your needs and desires for your domestic life. You might feel like it’s ideal to look after your family and provide for them to the best of your abilities because you’ll want to feel a sense of pride in doing so, and will want to be seen as someone who’s doing all of this. You’re being told to remain even tempered and level headed, trying to balance things out properly instead of blaming yourself or anyone for anything, or letting your anger or emotions get to you. “DO NOT LISTEN TO SAD MUSIC AND IMAGINE SITUATIONS THAT NEVER HAPPENED OR EVEN REPLAY THE SITUATIONS THAT DID SOON!” If you disappoint yourself, don’t be too hard on yourself and be as gentle as you would be with a child who made a small mistake. The outcome is going to be you stopping to seek love and nurturing in ways that could violate your self respect. Developing stronger ethics and following them, possibly starting to understand and value some old school systems. For example, sex only after marriage. I’m picking up on you feeling really weak and vulnerable by the end of the year due to lack of love, nurturing and understanding from others but learning from it by diving deep into your own psyche, patterns and actions, and also accepting other people’s actions for what they truly were, even if it hurts. You’re going to be a very ethical, respectful and slightly old school person who desires to be a recipient of ethical, respectful and old school treatment by the end of the year. Thank you for reading, much love and take care.

#pac #tarot pac #pac reading #intuitive readings #pick a card #pick a photo #pick a deck #tarot pick a card #pick a card reading

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rmadridcore · 6 months ago

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Love in Slow Motion

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x Reader

Summary: Nine times Jude felt a strange warmth whenever he was around you, and one time he finally realized what it was.

Word Count: 1.8K

Author’s note: took a break from writing, but i’m back with a little fluffy Jude fic 🤍 i’ll start getting through my requests as well 🫂

The type of relationship you and Jude had was very special to him. It hasn’t been too long since you two became a couple and he wasn’t the type to get too serious, too fast. He preferred keeping things casual — no heavy responsibilities, no complicated emotions, just light and easy. But that all shifted when you walked into his life. It was like a switch flipped, and suddenly, what used to feel complicated or burdensome didn’t seem that way anymore. He found out how peaceful it could be to have the right person by your side. With you, everything felt good, natural. He was attracted to you, sure, but it went far beyond that. There was this deep respect, an admiration that ran much deeper than anything he had ever experienced before. And he was glad to have you in his life.

But then there was that other feeling. It was subtle at first, a strange, confusing fuzz in the pit of his stomach. A warmth that spread through his chest and left him feeling... overwhelmed, in the best possible way.

The feeling would hit him at the most random times, uninvited but never unwelcome. He couldn’t quite put a name to it at first, but it was undeniable — it was strong, intense, and utterly inescapable when he was around you. And it took him a while, 10 moments to be exact, before he finally realized what that feeling really was.

The first time it hit him was during an ordinary Tuesday at his place. You two had just come back from the gym, snacks in hand — a little indulgence after an intense workout. You sat cross-legged on the floor near the coffee table, meticulously sorting through your favorite candy, arranging them by color like it was some life or death mission. Jude couldn’t help but watch, utterly mesmerized. The way your brows furrowed in concentration, the seriousness in your expression over something so trivial. It was adorable. He didn’t even realize he was smiling, his heart swelling with that familiar warmth. He’d barely noticed it then, but that was the first time the feeling crept in.

The second time was less subtle. You two were lounging in bed, tangled up in each other’s arms as the worst crime series he’d ever seen played on TV. You loved it, adored it, despite how horrendously predictable and dull it was. If it were up to him, that show would never grace his screen, not in a million years. But when you asked him to watch it with you, he couldn’t say no. He didn’t want to. Even though he didn’t care for the show, he found himself invested — not in the plot, but in the way your face lit up during the ridiculous twists, how you laughed at the over the top dialogue. It hit him then, that same feeling, stronger this time. He didn’t care about the show. He cared about you, about how happy you were. And somehow, that made it all worth it.

The third time it hit him was at dawn. Thirst had woken him up in the middle of the night, and after a quick drink of water, he climbed back into bed. But sleep didn’t return as easily. Instead, he found himself gazing at you — your sleeping figure, so peaceful, so serene. You looked perfect, nestled into the fluffy pillow with the blanket pulled up to your chin. His heart swelled as he watched you, that same unamenable feeling washing over him again. There was something mesmerizing about how relaxed and beautiful you looked, your soft features illuminated by the faint light creeping through the curtains. You were flawless to him, like a dream come to life. And as he lied there, wide awake, he realized how happy it made him to be the one who got to fall asleep and wake up next to you. He was happy, so happy, and he couldn’t believe how lucky he was.

The fourth time came just before he had to leave for training. He was sitting at the kitchen table, lazily texting his brother, when you came over and placed a cup of coffee in front of him. You gave him a quick kiss before heading to the bathroom, leaving him to take his first sip. As the warm liquid touched his lips, it hit him — you hadn’t asked him how he liked his coffee in months. Only once, when you first started seeing each other. Since then, you had memorized his exact preferences, down to the smallest detail, making it for him just the way he liked without ever needing a reminder. That tiny, thoughtful gesture struck him harder than anything else could have. You knew him so well, and you cared enough to remember the little things. It was a simple moment, but it made him feel that same warmth, that same fuzzy feeling in his chest, stronger than ever.

The fifth time was during a dinner at your friend’s house. The evening had been fun, filled with laughter and conversations, but it was after dinner when that familiar feeling surged through him again. The guests had spread around the house, sipping on drinks and chatting in small groups. He had just come back from the balcony, where he had been talking with a few friends, when he spotted you across the room. You were sitting on a couch with your girlfriends, your head thrown back in laughter, the sound echoing through the room. God, you were beautiful. The way you laughed, so carefree, so full of joy, it made his breath hitch. Your eyes crinkled at the corners, your cheeks flushed from whatever joke had you in stitches, and he felt like time stopped for a moment. In that instant, all he wanted was to hold onto that image of you, happy and glowing. He wanted to freeze time, to keep you laughing forever. It was in moments like that when he felt it the most, this overwhelming, undeniable feeling.

The sixth time hit him when he was getting ready for an award show. You had been by his side all evening, calming his nerves, reassuring him with your words, building him up when he felt uncertain. He loved how involved you were in his career, how you were genuinely his number one fan. As you stood there fixing his collar, making sure he looked perfect before he walked out the door, that feeling rushed over him again. There was something so tender about the way you took care of him, focused on every little detail, and it hit him just how lucky he was to have someone who cared this much.

The seventh time happened on a simple stroll through the city. You loved being outdoors when the weather was nice, and Jude loved tagging along, happy to do anything that brought a smile to your face. As you two walked hand-in-hand along the sidewalk, an adorable white puppy caught your attention. Without a second thought, you dropped Jude’s hand and rushed over to pet the dog, kneeling down and squealing at how cute it was. Watching you gush over the puppy, completely losing yourself in the moment, made that warm, fuzzy feeling flood his chest again. He stood there, grinning, watching as you melted into a bundle of squeaks and giggles, and all he could think was how much he loved seeing you happy.

The eighth time came after one of the hardest days he’d had in a while. Exhausted and stressed, he came home expecting to collapse, but instead, he was greeted by the heavenly smell of his favorite meal cooking. You had surprised him, knowing full well that he’d be grumpy and starving after the long day. The house smelled like comfort, and you acted like it was no big deal, just something you casually did to make his day a little better. But to him, it meant everything. He kissed you as a way of saying thank you, feeling so grateful for how effortlessly you made his life better. You always knew exactly how to make him feel like the luckiest man in the world.

The ninth time was pure simplicity. He had just gotten out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist, another one in hand as he dried his hair. He walked into the living room and saw you lounging on the couch, reading a book and wearing his T-shirt. Something about you in his clothes, looking so relaxed and at home in his space, hit him hard. It was such a small thing, but it sent that familiar warmth surging through him, stronger than ever. The sight of you so comfortable in his world, in his shirt, made him realize — he could get used to this. In fact, he wouldn’t want it any other way.

And the tenth time was the epiphany. You two were out grocery shopping, preparing for a dinner party you were hosting for your friends over the weekend. As you wandered through the aisles, picking and choosing what you needed for the meal, Jude followed behind you, pushing the cart loaded with products. He watched you with soft admiration as you weighed your options, debating what dessert to serve. It struck him how perfectly domestic everything felt; how easy, how natural, and how real it was.

Everything he once feared, commitment, responsibilities, routine, was now something he craved with you. He loved the simplicity of it all, the way you moved through life together with such ease. This wasn’t just about being comfortable; it was about feeling truly at home with you. And then, it hit him. That feeling he had been experiencing all along, that warmth in his chest — it was love.

It was love that made him stare at you sorting candy like it was the most captivating thing in the world. Love that had him watching that awful crime show with you, just to hold you close. Love that kept him glued to your sleeping face at dawn. Love that made your laugh the best sound he had ever heard, and the way you made his coffee exactly how he liked it felt so special. Love that made him emotional when you adjusted his collar, and why watching you squeal over a random dog on the street made his heart melt. It was love that made your cooking the best thing he could ever come home to, and why seeing you in his clothes felt so right.

He loved you — deeply, more than he ever thought possible. And as he looked at you then, standing in the grocery aisle, he was sure of one thing: when you looked back at him, there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind that you loved him just as much.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham x y/n #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jb5 #jb5 x reader #real madrid #rma #rmafc #football player x reader #football imagine #football fic #football fanfic

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riddlesb1tch · 11 months ago

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I Love You More Than I Love You

Azriel x reader

summary: a morning being Azriel's mate

warnings: none!

a/n: I wrote this in like 15 mins so please excuse any errors or poor quality of writing here

Your head rested on Azriel’s chest, the steady beating of his heart thumping in your ear, his stomach slowly rising and falling as he breathed under your arm, and the morning seemed perfect just like that. The sunlight pouring in through the open blinds spilt beautifully over your mate’s features, accentuating his high cheekbones, chiselled jaw, and the spattering of freckles all over his face. To you, Azriel had never looked more ethereal. Looking at your mate at peace was not a pleasure you got to experience often due to his job, but those stolen moments of vulnerability, where it was just you and him and nothing else mattered, were some of the most precious in your relationship.

Azriel stirred slightly, turning on his side. You moved your head from his chest to his bicep and continued looking at his face.

“You’re staring,” he mumbled, eyes still closed while a small smile played on his lips.

You smiled at his little shadows dancing around the corners mischievously. “I’m admiring,” you whispered, moving a little closer.

He opened his eyes now, looking at you with sleepiness still in them but regardless, your breath caught in your throat at the beauty of his eyes, so angelic and alluring with the sunlight still coming in from the background, and the playfulness in them.

“Okay, stalker,” he mumbled jokingly.

You furrowed your brows in amusement. “Says the guy who stalks for a living?” you replied.

Azriel gasped in mock offence. “It’s called spying, thank you very much.”

You rolled your eyes exaggeratedly. “You call it spying, I call it glorified stalking.”

Azriel only chuckled in response, turning onto his back and rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?” he yawned, stretching his arms above his head.

“Way too early to be up,” you replied.

“Then why are you?” he asked, turning back to you now and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Your skin heated where he touched your face, eyes closing briefly at the safety and warmth you felt.

Your heads rested on the same pillow now, noses almost touching. Azriel wrapped an arm around your waist and tangled his legs with yours. You shrugged in response to his question. “Woke up a couple of hours ago and couldn’t fall back asleep,” you said.

Azriel hummed in understanding, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Well, we still have a couple of hours before we have to be up. You wanna try sleeping till then?” he asked, yawning, his eyes drooping closed already.

You nodded in response, cuddling into Azriel’s warm body and letting your eyes fall closed as well. His breathing was just starting to even out again when you said, “I love you, Az,” and kissed his chest. “More than anything.”

He stroked your hair before replying, “I love you more than I love you.”

Your brows furrowed at what he said, not understanding the meaning behind his words. You decided to ask him later about it and for the moment, let yourself get lost in the realm of dreams again.

A couple of hours later, you woke up to an empty bed. Downstairs, you could hear clattering in the kitchen and concluded that Azriel had taken to making breakfast this morning. Your heart warmed at how caring and sweet your mate was.

You got out of bed and made your way downstairs to the kitchen where you saw Azriel with his back turned to you. He was still shirtless, putting the large expanse of his back, the muscles flexing as he worked on display. Even after 10 years of being mated, the sight still made you blush.

Approaching Azriel, you wrapped your arms around his waist, hugging his body close.

“Good morning, angel,” you heard him say.

All you did was hum in response. Kissing the space between his wings, you unwound your arms from around him and moved to sit on the shelf next to where he was cooking. He handed you a mug swirling with some dark liquid.

“Your coffee, miss,” he said with a smile.

“Thank you,” you said gratefully.

Sipping your cup and swinging your legs while you sat on the counter watching Azriel work, a thought struck you.

“Hey, Az?” you called.

“Yes?” he replied, turning his attention to you.

“You said something this morning and I don’t know what you meant,” you said.

Azriel looked at you questioningly. “What did I say?”

“You said ‘I love you more than I love you’.”

Azriel raised his brows for a second, taking in the statement before he turned to you with an adoring gaze. He moved to stand in front of you, hands coming to hold yours. “It means that you’re the one I love most in this world yet somehow…I love you even more than that,” he explained. “That make sense?” he asked.

You looked into his eyes, feeling your heart soaring, your love for him growing even more if that was even possible. “Perfectly,” you muttered, kissing Azriel deeply until the smell of burning eggs pulled you apart.

Masterlist

#azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #acotar fluff #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel imagine

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mariclerc · 11 months ago

Note

What about Charles dreaming about the reader cheating on him? And him being all clingy about it

Thank you so much for this request, I found it so interesting and funny. I hope you like thisss 😋😋

A driver nightmare | cl16

Summary: when Charles dreams about you and it's not usually something pleasant for the both of you. Warnings: fluff, slightly possessive Charles and a little bit of angst.

You and Charles have been dating for a couple of years, and although people sometimes say that it is suffocating to date someone for such a long time, for the two of you it is not like that since you always find something new about each other and end up falling in love over and over again. And it's a nice thing because there are quite strong feelings between the two of you.

But lately Charles has been a bit scattered, so to speak, and you have no idea why is that behavior coming...

So, one night Charles lies asleep next to you, your breathing is even and deep.

“Another night, another nightmare, great...” Charles says as he sighs softly.

He stirs in his sleep, his brow furrowed... The dream is vivid and so painful. You are there, his love, his world, his princess, his whole life, is with another man... The laughter, intimacy - things that should be reserved only for the two of you, are being shared with someone else. A cold sweat breaks out on his forehead.

He jolts awake, heart pounding. His eyes dart around the room, searching for any sign of disturbance. He finds you there sleeping peacefully, with a serene and angelic face; relief washes over him, but the lingering dread from the dream is a heavy weight on his chest.

Lately he's had a couple of nightmares about you with someone else, and no matter how much he tries to get answers about it, it's all in vain since it's just a nightmare, that's just it... The thing is, to him, everything feels so real and vivid that he actually swears you're not by his side at the moment.

He whispers. “Oh no... It's getting worse.”

He lies there, staring at the ceiling, trying to shake off the nightmare, his mind races over and over. He knows it's irrational because you would never do this to him. But the images are so real that it hurts him a lot.

***

Morning comes, a sliver of light peeking through the curtains. You stir in bed, stretch, and smile softly at him.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” you smiled at his sleeping form. Your voice is soft and melodic, the sunlight catches your eyes, making them sparkle.

“Morning darling.” he says, his voice is rough with sleep, but he forces a smile for you.

You sigh a little bit. “You seem so tired cha. Another nightmare?” you reached out to stroke his hair.

He nodded. “Just a tiny bit baby, but it's nothing to worry about.”

He pulls you closer, burying his face in your hair, the scent of your shampoo is comforting. For a moment, the fear and anxiety fades away.

“You know you can talk to me, right? About anything, okay?” you say softly at him.

“I know sweetheart, I know.” he sighs. “It's just... It's a little complicated.”

He squeezes your hand, trying to reassure himself as much as you.

***

The days pass and Charles continues to be plagued by nightmares at night time. All nightmares are different but there is one thing in common: you are with another person. He becomes increasingly withdrawn, his usually cheerful demeanor replaced by a shadow of doubt.

“Fuck, I’m losing my mind.” he whispered softly while grabbing his hair.

So, one afternoon, as you two cuddle on the couch, you can notice the subtle change in him.

“Charles, I know something's wrong. You’ve been a little distant.” You say in a whisper as you stroke his hair. “And I don't know if I've done anything wrong.”

Charles freezes, his heart pounding... You doing something bad? That is impossible for him, but he can't help but feel guilty.

“You doing something bad? Honey, that's impossible! How are you going to do something bad if you are such a princess? Everything's fine, love, seriously... Just a bit stressed with work, that's all.” he says softly.

You looked at him, your eyes filled with concern for him. “You can't lie to me, Charles. I know you better than that, I know something's bothering you.” you say with a soft voice.

***

A couple of days later, the sunlight streams through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow over the room. The soft clinking of utensils can be heard as you move gracefully around the kitchen, preparing breakfast.

Charles enters, his hair ruffled from sleep, for you he looks so good, and he yawns widely. He stretches, his eyes still half-closed, and then pads over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

“Good morning, beautiful! What are you making that smells so so good?” he says while kissing your cheek.

You smile, leaning back into his warm embrace. “Morning, sleepyhead. I'm just making pancakes! Nothing serious.” you giggled.

Charles tightens his grip, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“You're the best chérie.”

He nuzzles your neck, his breath tickling your skin. You giggled, turning around to face him.

“Stop it silly, you’re going to make me spill the batter!”

Charles grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I like watching you cook. You look so... domestic and cute.” he whispered.

You rolled your eyes playfully. ”Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

He shrugs. “I guess so silly bean.”

He pulls you into a tight hug, his possessiveness momentarily surfacing.

“You’re mine, you know?”

You laugh softly, your heart melting at his affection. “I know my love, I know.”

Charles kisses your forehead, a tender gesture that speaks volumes.

Later that day, you and Charles are curled up on the couch, a comfortable silence between the two of you.

Suddenly Charles let out a long sigh. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

You looked at him, your expression concerned. “What’s wrong, baby love?” you asked him.

Charles takes a deep breath.

“Well... I've been having these… nightmares... About you.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Nightmares? About me?” you asked again and he nodded.

“Yeah... And it's something stupid, I know. But they’ve been getting worse because I see you with someone else. And it’s... it’s horrible, it feels horrible.” he finally confesses and he looks down, his voice barely a whisper.

“Oh, Charlie...” you reached out to take his hand. “It’s just a dream, baby. It doesn’t mean anything! Look, I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere, okay?”

Charles looks up, searching your eyes for reassurance.

“I know, I know... But it’s been making me so crazy. I’m so sorry if I’ve been acting weird this couple of weeks.” he whispered and you pulled him closer, wrapping your arms around him.

“Baby... You’re not acting weird, you’re just scared. And that’s okay! I’m here for you, always, okay?” you say while caressing his back.

Charles nods, relief washing over him.

He sighed and smiled at you. “I love you amour.”

“I love you too, more than words can say.”

#formula one x reader #charles leclerc x yn #f1 x you #charles x you #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles x reader #charles leclerc #charles x shy reader #mariclerc fics #charles leclerc blurb

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reylwq · 1 month ago

Text

𝓘t wa𝓼𝓷’𝓽 a 𝓶𝓲𝓼take, 𝓫𝓪𝓫𝔂

SUMMARY: Best friends. One night. No rules. I woke up in his bed, naked. Now nothing feels the same… and I don’t think either of us wants it to.

PAIRINGS: Jay x fem!reader

TROPES: best friends to lovers , drunk confessions

WORD COUNT: 1,9k

SMUT TAGS: 18+ content, smut , explicit sexual content , unprotected sex , oral sex , not much talking

WARNING TAGS: accidental sex (only drunk) , emotional aftermath , one night stand (but it’s not really) , post hook up tension

A/N: Hii again!! I made this one pretty fast so I have something to post. So I’m sorry if it’s maybe going too fast but whatever. I hope you like it and also give me some ideas on what other stories I can write :)

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How the hell did I end up here — with my best friend since eighth grade… naked in his bed, after a night I can barely piece together?

Jay had just asked if I wanted to hit up this downtown party. Nothing serious. Some mutuals, some drinks. We’d done it a hundred times. It was supposed to be harmless.

But the drinks didn’t stop. And the music blurred into noise. Then there was his hand on my lower back. Then me leaning into him. Then our laughter started to sound more like flirting. It didn’t feel like the usual us. It felt like something was shifting, something we both ignored.

After that… flashes. Heat. His lips. My name, whispered like a secret. Clothes peeling off. His fingers sliding up my thighs. That groan… oh, that groan, like I’d undone something he’d been holding in for years.

Then darkness.

— Next morning !!

My head is pounding.

A dull ache, like someone turned up the bass inside my skull. I shift, groaning quietly as I blink into the unfamiliar morning light filtering through Jay’s bedroom window.

I don’t remember falling asleep. Just… the rush. His hands. My breath catching. And now, this.

I twist slowly, body sore in ways that remind me too clearly that last night wasn’t a dream. That’s when I see him.

Jay.

Asleep, one hand resting over his stomach, the other tucked beneath the pillow. His chest rises and falls, calm. Maybe too calm for the hurricane spinning in my head.

I lift the blanket, just enough to confirm what I already know.

Naked. Shit.

I let out a quiet curse and glance back at him. He’s still asleep. Should I wake him? Should I sneak out? But I can’t just leave him like some hookup with a stranger?

My heart is pounding so loud it feels like it might wake him for me.

I look around his room. Clothes everywhere. My bra on the floor. His shirt tangled at the foot of the bed. And beneath all that: tension. So much unspoken, wrapped around us like another blanket.

I sit up slowly, pressing a hand to my forehead, fuck… The air feels too thick. Like guilt. Or maybe confusion. Maybe both. I don’t know.

Then, behind me, I hear the sheets rustle.

Jay stirs.

He turns, face buried in the pillow for a second before his eyes crack open, blinking lazily. It takes a few beats, slow ones, before he really sees me.

Naked. Wrapped in his blanket. Sitting at the edge of his bed like I might bolt the fuck out of his room.

“Y/N?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, still heavy with sleep. My name sounds different in his mouth now. Or maybe I’m just hearing it differently.

I freeze. I don’t know what to say.

He squints at me, confused. “Wait— what… what happened?”

His brow furrows as he sits up slowly, the reality starting to settle over him like it did for me a few minutes ago. His gaze flickers to the blanket clutched around my body. His shirtless chest. The scent of last night still lingering in the air.

Then our eyes meet.

We both say nothing. I mean what are we supposed to say?!

The silence between us is thick. Fragile. Like one wrong word could shatter everything.

I exhale slowly, my voice barely a whisper. “I think we… went too far.”

Jay doesn’t move. Just looks at me, eyes clouded, unreadable.

And in that moment, neither of us knows what this is. A one-time mistake? A buried truth finally surfacing? Or the start of something we can’t undo?

- - -

I don’t tell him to stop.

I don’t even move. I just breathe, shallow, shaky as Jay’s fingers trace slowly up from my hip, gliding across the skin that’s still warm from sleep and memory.

He’s watching me like he’s afraid to move too fast, like he knows if he breaks the rhythm of this moment, we’ll both wake up and this will be gone.

“You sure?” he whispers, voice tight in his throat.

I nod once, barely. “Yeah.”

That’s all it takes.

His mouth brushes mine, so gently it could be a question. And when I lean in to answer, not with words, but with a kiss… it deepens instantly, like we’d both been holding back just enough.

His hand finds my waist again, pulling me against him, and the blanket slips further down between us, forgotten. My skin slides against his, warm and soft and too much all at once. Oh, god…

His lips move slow. Careful. But his hands…

God, his hands are already different.

More confident now. More familiar. They move like he remembers how I sound, how I moved beneath him just hours ago and he’s chasing that again.

He lays me back onto the pillows, shifting over me, and everything about the way he touches me is… softer this time. Slower. Like he’s savoring it now, like he wants to memorize every second of this in case it never happens again.

My legs part for him easily, instinctively, and his hand trails down between us, fingers dipping low to test me. I gasp softly at the contact.

“Still wet,” he murmurs, voice rough, almost in awe.

I grip his bicep as my back arches slightly. “Don’t— don’t say shit like that.”

He smirks into my neck, kisses just beneath my ear. “Why? You like it.”

And maybe I do. Maybe I really do. Especially when his fingers keep moving, slow and teasing, slipping through me with maddening precision. My body’s reacting faster than my mind, hips rising up to meet him, my breath catching in my throat.

I whimper as his mouth moves down, across my chest, his tongue tracing slow circles over my skin. He lingers there, like he can’t get enough of me, and when I thread my fingers through his hair, tugging just slightly, he groans, low and desperate, into my skin.

“Jay…” I whisper, hips shifting under him, needing more. Needing him.

He slides up again, pressing his forehead to mine, his body hovering just above mine, poised. “You want me?”

His voice is a whisper, but it carries the weight of everything we haven’t said.

I meet his eyes, my fingers curling around the back of his neck, and nod. “Yeah. I want you.”

That’s it.

He pushes into me, slow. My mouth falls open with a gasp. The stretch is familiar now, but still intense, and this time, it’s more than just lust. It’s heavy. Emotional. Bare.

Jay groans as he sinks deeper, his hips pressing flush against mine, his hand gripping the sheet beside my head like he’s holding himself back. “F-fuck, you feel… God, Y/N.”

My nails rake gently down his back as I wrap my legs around him, pulling him closer. “Move, Jay. Please…”

And he does.

He starts slow, dragging his hips back, then pressing in again, deeper this time. His rhythm is steady, sensual, each thrust smooth and deliberate.

I moan softly with every one, our bodies syncing up like we’ve done this a hundred times before.

Jay’s lips find mine again, kissing me with heat and hunger, and something tender underneath. His hand slides under my thigh, lifting it just enough to push in deeper, to hit that spot that makes me gasp into his mouth.

He moans, low, needy. “God, you’re so perfect.”

Everything builds from there.

His pace picks up. His thrusts hit harder. The soft groans become louder, breathier and desperate. My hips roll up to meet him, and soon we’re moving together like we can’t get close enough. Like we need this to mean something, even if we’re both too scared to admit it.

My back arches as heat coils tight in my stomach, my cries getting sharper with each push. “Jay— I’m—”

“I know,” he growls into my neck. “I got you. Just— fuck— hold on to me.”

And I do.

Because in this moment, there’s no confusion. No overthinking. No regrets.

Just us.

And the way he’s moving inside me, faster, deeper as if chasing the high of something that’s been buried between us for way too long.

Something that’s no longer just physical.

It’s everything.

Jay’s rhythm shifts, no more restraint, no more hesitation. Just need.

He fucks me harder now, each thrust hitting deep, sharp, the sound of skin on skin filling the room in sync with our ragged breathing and the creak of the mattress beneath us.

My fingers dig into his back, nails dragging down his spine as I cry out, loud, no longer caring who hears. The pressure is unbearable now, my whole body curling around the sensation of him driving into me, deep and relentless.

“Jay— oh my god—” My voice breaks, shaking under the weight of it.

He grabs my hips, lifting them, tilting me just enough to hit that spot over and over, and when he finds it, he doesn’t stop. His jaw clenches, sweat dripping from his temple onto my collarbone as he watches me unravel beneath him.

“You like that?” he growls, his voice wrecked. “You like it when I fuck you like this?”

I nod wildly, mouth open, breath caught between moans. “Yes— yes— please don’t stop.”

He grips my wrists, pins them above my head, and thrusts harder, deeper, rougher. I’m completely at his mercy, thighs trembling, body arching as pleasure crashes through me like a wave threatening to drown us both.

He leans down, mouth right at my ear, his words shaking with every thrust.

“You feel so fucking good— I can’t— I can’t get enough of you.”

My eyes flutter shut as I gasp his name, legs tightening around him. He bites gently at my neck, then groans, loud, raw, as he fucks me faster, sweat-slick bodies colliding with every stroke.

“I’m close—” I choke out, hips grinding up into him, chasing the high like it’s life or death.

“I know, baby— I feel you. You’re so tight— shit— come for me. Right now.”

His voice demands it, low, commanding, right against my mouth and that’s all it takes.

I shatter around him, body shaking violently as I scream his name, waves of pleasure tearing through me. My walls pulse around him, and he loses it.

He thrusts deep, once—twice—then he growls my name, burying himself to the hilt as he spills inside me, hips jerking with the force of it. His whole body trembles above mine, muscles flexing as he rides out every last pulse of his release, breath ragged in my ear.

We don’t move for a moment.

His chest is pressed to mine, our skin sticky, our bodies still joined. The room smells like sweat and sex and something else. Something heavier.

Something like truth.

Jay finally lifts his head, his forehead pressed to mine, and he just looks at me.

No words.

No apology.

Just us.

Breathing hard. Hearts racing. Still tangled in the wreckage of something we didn’t mean to start but can’t bring ourselves to stop.

And we both know, this wasn’t the last time.

Not even close.

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#smut #enha smut #enha x reader #enhypen #fanfic #fluff #enhypen jay #park jay #park jongseong #jay smut #enhypen jongseong #enha jongseong #jongseong x reader #jongseong smut #jay x reader #kpop

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hcneymooners · 3 months ago

Text

౨ৎ (still) thinking of summer slasher!pazzi…

best friends to lovers!pazzi. men & minors dni.

🫀⋆ part one. part two ( you are here.ᐟ ). part three.

cw: medium-level gore (guys, people they know die in this one), sexual tension, heavy sexual content (sorry! i'm ovulating), manipulation, morally ambiguous!p, morally ambiguous!a, the power of lesbians vs murder, unhealthy relationships bc it's a horror au, unhealthy coping mechanisms.

notes : this ended up being 10.8k so i'm splitting it off into a third part which should be shorter. you little freaks want to see p & the killer's showdown in detail so i have to oblige.

as always, feel free to give me all of your thoughts in my inbox. i hope you enjoy. love you.

azzi is the only thing that makes me feel like a real girl.

paige has written this in her blocky handwriting , the letters practically out to kill with how sharp the angles are. she hasn’t touched her journal in three days, her mind swept away by azzi’s easy tide.

her best friend lies next to her, her body heavy with sleep and rising with her slow breath. paige puts her diary to the side, and rolls over so that she can watch the gentle twitch of azzi’s face as she dreams. she smoothes out the wrinkles that splay across the other girl’s brow.

azzi smells sweet, like caramel, and paige can’t help but pull her fingers back and place them in her mouth. they taste only of skin but her eyes roll back as she pretends it’s azzi all over them anyway. she opens them again, dispels the fantasy, and watches azzi shift—the bottom curve of her ass peeking out of her criminally small cotton pajama shorts, her thighs so full.

and yes, it’s her first year in college (and paige’s second) and paige is probably high off of the end to a year without her but god, she just loves azzi so much. the pulse of affection is so sudden, so strong, that it makes paige squeeze her legs together as if to choke it out.

here is where she feels less sick, less hungry for the pain she thinks of inflicting on other people. here lies a real-life angel, stolen straight out of the gates.

sometimes paige pinches herself to ensure she’s awake because being with azzi is so much like heaven she isn’t sure she would be able to tell if she’d died.

that violent voice inside of her is so quiet, is so fond of her best friend that it almost brings her to tears because that means it really is a part of her and not a part of something else—it’s immovable and completely her own.

“p? what are you thinking about?”

paige blinks and watches as azzi’s soft brown eyes flutter open, dark and wet. god, she was born game. paige sneaks closer, smiles with pleasure as azzi hooks an arm around her waist. from azzi’s side of things, paige looks like a saint on fire, the sun rising through the winter behind her and dressing her blonde hair with a dark orange flame.

“nothing. just that i’m taller than you for real”

azzi laughs sleepily and even her breath is sweet. she’s just so thick, body flush with life. her scent radiates off of her: again the caramel, but violet too and a bit of something lactonic.

“in your dreams,” azzi murmurs, and paige can see she’s falling asleep again.

yes, she wants to say, you are in my dreams. you are my dream. my biggest one.

paige thinks of slitting azzi’s belly, soft and quick just to taste a little bit of her blood. the thought is immediately followed by tears. she wishes she wasn’t so sick.

azzi, even asleep, seems to sense her need for comfort. she presses close, sinks into paige’s lilac comforter and her valentino cologne-covered limbs, and tucks into her chest. the sickness shifts, enfolds her. azzi is now safe in its bubble.

paige feels hot at the thought of letting her go. she imagines another person experiencing this. the heat expands. she thinks of a knife in her hands, sinking into someone else.

stopping them, saving her.

𓇼 azzi is not handling this well. she’s barely making it through class; barely making it through anything. every morning she wakes with her head feeling heavier than before. she swallows a pill, tries to kill the part inside of her that keeps reminding her that her best friend is an absolute psychopath with a soft spot for her and that another psychopath has it out for her in a far more evil manner.

𓇼 she’s slipping at practice, sloppy and hesitant instead of making her shots count. geno doesn’t bother yelling at her, only gives her a look filled with leagues of disappointment. it’s only due to her pride that azzi doesn’t cry.

𓇼 she’s careful about how her time is spent, times her moments inside the apartment to align with paige’s outside of it. she fakes countless nights of sleep, slowing her breathing as paige lingers in an effort to catch her in the midst of her pretending. but that gets old and she finds herself still suffocating, still in pain, and swollen with a secret too big to fit inside of her neatly.

𓇼 so she sneaks out. treats her body like a hangar and drapes dresses across it that get shorter with every outing. she drinks until her mind is numb, shakes along to the music until she comes off too manic to be found interesting or pixie-dream-girl and then throws up in the morning in caroline’s bathroom, rubbing her cheeks to calm herself down.

𓇼 “azzi,” caroline says, her voice soft as she rubs her back. “can you tell me what’s going on?” but azzi keeps it quiet, keeps it down, because she thinks of paige and feels her stomach clench and her throat close with the urgent desire to be a good girl.

𓇼 trust me, paige’s phantom voice says. believe in me, it croons in her head. it never stops. she goes out again.

the bass is a snake beneath her skin, rattling in her ribs, reverberating in the hollow of her chest. it’s not enough.

azzi can tell she’s teetering on the edge of being out of control. caroline had texted her earlier, had offered to do a movie night post practice but azzi had found it frighteningly easy to lie to her for the nth time, typing out a stream of words that she couldn’t even remember clearly but knew were enough to get carol off of her back.

the air inside the club is sweltering—humid with sweat, perfume, the lingering tang of alcohol. bodies move together, fall together, silhouettes blending. the world is a sea of golden limbs and slick skin under shifting neon lights.

azzi is glowing under it.

her body is warm, fever-flushed, coated in a fine layer of brunt orange body glitter that dances on the edge of dark pink and catches the light every time she moves. tonight’s mini dress is navy blue and clings to her, threatening to reveal her down to the bone. the neckline plunges low, the exposed skin shimmering like she’s been dipped in summer. she smells sweet, addictive, and edible—something dangerous in a place like this.

azzi knows how she looks. she just doesn’t care.

she wants to disappear. wants to drown in the music, in the heat, in the slurred conversations and unfamiliar hands that press against her as she moves deeper into the crowd. but she can still feel it. the way her mind won’t let her slip away completely.

so she pushes further.

azzi finds a body—someone taller, faceless in the dim light but blonde enough to be her best friend for the night—and presses against them. she tilts her head back, lets her eyes flutter shut, lets herself sway, slow and deliberately, grinding in time with the music.

and for a second, it works. she almost forgets.

then her gaze lifts, unfocused, scanning lazily across the flashing strobes of purple, red, and blue.

and she sees them. or—no. no, she thinks she sees them.

a mask. the shape of it, half-hidden in the shifting bodies of the club.

her stomach plummets. she goes still.

the song is still playing, then it changes. the bass continues thrumming to a new rhythm, the people around her still swaying, almost twisted in prayer as they dance—but she isn’t. her blood rushes in her ears, louder than the music. she blinks, hard, but the figure is gone.

she jerks slightly as her dance partner tries to get her to come back, her breath hitching, the heat of the room suddenly suffocating. she feels like she’s going to cry, or throw up, or both. then, like a sign from god, a hand wraps around her wrist. the fingers are calloused, covered with cool silver rings.

azzi jerks, eyes snapping up, her entire body going stiff with discomfort. she goes to push them off, demand that they leave her alone, but it’s paige. she’s standing in front of her now, too close, her expression pissed. her fingers press into azzi’s skin, warm and unyielding.

"you gotta be fucking kidding me, az," paige mutters, low and sharp, eyes dragging over azzi’s glittering body before snapping up to her face. “are you fucking crazy?”

azzi opens her mouth, but words escape her. paige’s jaw tightens. her free hand lands on azzi’s waist, steadying her. azzi exhales a soft, tired laugh.

“how’d you find me?” her words slur slightly, not fully gone, but not all there either.

paige lifts a brow. “we share our location with each other, dumbass.”

azzi hums, tilting her head against the wall. “mmm, forgot about that.”

paige glares, jaw clenching. then she steps closer, crowding into azzi’s space.

“what the fuck are you doing?” she demands, voice still low, like she’s forcing herself to keep it together. she sounds like sex, azzi’s brain tells her unhelpfully. “you really thought you could just sneak out and i wouldn’t come find you?”

azzi rolls her eyes, her head tipping forward slightly. “i don’t—” she wavers, stumbling slightly, and paige’s hand is suddenly there, gripping her bicep, steadying her. azzi blinks at the contact, something complicated flickering across her face before it dies out.

"you snuck out,” paige says again, voice flat, but azzi can hear something else in it—knows she’s gotten under her skin. “didn’t tell anyone. didn’t tell me. i had to call caroline who was worried out of her mind by the way.”

azzi swallows hard. she’s still trembling, still caught between panic and the aftermath of it, still seeing flashes of the mask in her mind like her own private film.

paige watches her closely, then exhales sharply. her hand slides up, grips the back of azzi’s neck.

“alright, nah,” she murmurs, voice lowering. “you're fucked up right now. you're done. i'm cutting you off. let’s go.”

azzi exhales another weak laugh. “i don’t wanna go.”

“yeah, well, i don’t care.”

paige tugs at her arm, but azzi resists, still leaning against the wall, still lost in whatever slow-motion, drowning feeling she’s been trying to sink into all night.

“i just needed—needed—“azzi starts, but she doesn’t finish.

paige waits. then her grip on azzi’s arm tightens, just slightly.

“needed what?”

azzi doesn’t answer. she looks up at paige, her lashes fringed with tiny tears as the party fades and reality sinks back in. paige’s jaw flexes, her hands follow suit. then, without another word, she steps even closer, her hands bracketing azzi’s hips, fingers pressing firm through the thin fabric of her dress.

“okay, fine,” paige murmurs, tone shifting—calmer now, almost coaxing. “you wanna stay? you wanna keep drinking and pretending shit didn’t happen?”

paige leans in, her lips ghosting the shell of azzi’s ear. “i’ll tell you what’s gonna happen, az,” she murmurs. “you’re gonna let me walk you out of here, and you’re gonna get in my fucking car. or i carry you out. swear.”

azzi shivers. she opens her mouth, but paige is already stepping back, already pulling her toward the exit. she knows what azzi would choose.

so, azzi lets her.

she lets paige take her hand, lets her lead her through the press of bodies, weaving through the overstimulation of sweat-slick strangers. lets herself be found again.

the song echoes behind her as they exit, a ghostly question on the cool breeze: what about you / when i fuck things up, yeah.

paige will always find her.

azzi sniffles, leans her head against paige’s back as the older girl tries to get the passenger door open.

“‘m sorry,” she sobs. “i don’t know what’s wrong with me. i just wanna feel good.”

paige stills, then turns and tugs her into a tight hug. azzi twitches with her tears, melts into the fortress of paige’s arms.

“i just wanna feel good again,” she says again, and paige continues to hold her.

she doesn’t know how long they stand there, how long paige holds her up.

𓇼

the bathroom floor is cold.

it’s the first thing azzi notices when she wakes, her cheek pressed against the white tile, her body curled around the base of the toilet like it's an altar. they have a beautiful bathroom is the second thing she thinks—and it’s what tells her that she still may be a little drunk. she presses further into the floor, desperate for the beauty to purify her.

her head pounds. everything hurts. not just physically, but bone-deep exhaustion that makes her wonder if this is what dying feels like.

she doesn't remember getting home. doesn't remember much after seeing paige at the club, after being found again. sunlight slices through the small window, hitting the shower curtain and diffusing into something gentle. but it's still too much. azzi closes her eyes, groans, feels her stomach heave.

she’s now at the point where she has no shame. she lies on her stomach, covered only by an oversized navy blue uconn tee and a pair of black cotton panties that do nothing to cover the full bubble of her ass. she thinks of paige changing her and the shame returns.

"mornin', princess."

azzi flinches. the shame deepens. she doesn't need to look to know it's paige, leaning against the doorframe, watching her. always watching.

"go away," azzi mumbles, her voice cracking straight down the middle to reveal her heart.

"nah, i don't think so." paige's voice is controlled, but azzi can hear the tension beneath it. "you look like shit. need to get some food in you."

azzi finally opens her eyes, turns her head slightly to look at paige. the blonde is wearing a loose t-shirt and shorts, her hair pulled back into a loose braid. she's holding a glass of water and two pills in her outstretched hand. even now, so clearly disappointed and irritated, she’s so beautiful.

azzi closes her eyes again, as if to stop paige from getting in. but her desire for her, her need has already infested her. to want paige was a disease and the spores had long spread deep into azzi’s body.

"i said go away."

paige sighs, stepping into the bathroom and crouching beside her. "take the pills, az."

"no."

"bro, stop being difficult. just take them."

"i don't want your help," azzi says, each word deliberate. she sits up slightly, her back against the bathtub, ignoring how the movement makes the room spin. "i can take care of myself."

paige laughs, but there's no humor in it. "yeah? that what you was doing last night? taking care of yourself?"

humiliation stings through azzi, quick and sharp. she remembers flashes—the body glitter, hands on her waist, the pulsing lights. the mask. always the mask.

"leave me alone."

"i'ma get you some toast. you need to eat."

"no."

paige's jaw tightens. "azzi. get the fuck up. you need to eat something."

"i said no!" azzi snaps, louder now, her voice bouncing off the bathroom walls. she knows she’s being childish, knows that this is her begging for attention but, "just—stop. stop pretending like everything's normal. stop acting like you care."

paige goes still. "acting?"

"yes, acting! this whole—" azzi gestures wildly between them, "—this whole thing. it's bullshit."

"bullshit," paige repeats, her voice dangerously soft. she sets the water and pills down on the edge of the sink with controlled precision. "you think i'm acting."

"i think you're a fucking liar," azzi says, and immediately regrets it. not because it isn't true, but because saying it out loud makes her unable to escape it.

paige's eyes flash. "a liar."

"yes! you—" azzi stops, swallows hard. her head is pounding so fiercely she can barely think. "you're not who i thought you were."

"no?" paige shifts closer, her eyes never leaving azzi's face. "who am i then, az? tell me. since you got me all figured out."

azzi closes her eyes, wishes she could disappear. "i don't know. it’s driving me crazy."

silence stretches between them, taut and heavy. then paige speaks, her voice surprisingly gentle.

"i told you, az. i'm just trying to protect you."

and there it is—the thing they don't talk about. the monster under the bed.

"protect me?" azzi laughs, bitter and broken. "from what? from who? the other killer, right? or maybe from yourself?"

paige's expression hardens. "you know better than that. they're out there, and they've got it in for you. you think i'm making that up? you think i enjoy this? watching you fall apart?"

"i don't know what to think anymore!" azzi's voice rises, threatens to crack. "i don't know what's real. i just know that my best friend—" she chokes on the words. "my best friend is a killer. and i'm just supposed to what? trust you? follow you around like some lost puppy?"

"i ain't never hurt you," paige says, fierce and low. "never would."

"but you've hurt others."

paige doesn't deny it. she just watches azzi, her gaze steady.

"i'm just trying to keep you safe," she says finally.

something in azzi snaps.

"for what?!" she shouts, pushing herself up straighter despite the way it makes her stomach churn. "why do you even care? it's not like i'm your girlfriend!"

the words hang between them, electric and dangerous. azzi freezes, realizing what she's just said, what she's just revealed. paige's eyes widen slightly, her lips parting in surprise. "az…" she starts, her voice softer now. "hey…"

"get out," azzi whispers, panic rising in her chest. "get out. get the fuck out!"

she's shaking now, tears threatening to spill over. she didn't mean to say it. didn't mean to expose herself so easily.

paige doesn't move. instead, she reaches out, her fingers brushing against azzi's cheek, gentle in a way that makes azzi want to scream.

"nah," paige says softly, her thumb wiping away a tear that has escaped despite azzi's best efforts. "i don't think that's what you want."

she's right.

paige shifts closer, careful and slow like she's approaching a wounded animal. in one fluid motion, she slides down to sit on the cold tile and pulls azzi into her lap, cradling her against her chest. azzi is too tired, too hungover, too emotionally drained to resist.

"why don't you ever just tell me whatchu want, ma? like straight up?" paige murmurs, her breath warm against azzi's temple. her fingers thread through azzi's hair, nails scratching gently against her scalp in a way that makes azzi want to melt despite herself.

azzi swallows hard, her eyes closed tight against the tears that threaten to spill. "because," she whispers, "one day you'll get tired of me. of this. of whatever this is."

her voice cracks on the last word, and she hates how vulnerable she sounds, how much she's revealing.

"and then what happens to me? what happens when you decide i'm not worth protecting anymore?"

there’s silence and then paige wraps a hand around her chin, forces her to look at her. she takes azzi’s hand in hers, lifts it up to the light and they both watch as she slides their hands together. she brings them down, twists so that azzi’s palm is revealed, and presses it down over her heart.

“you hear that?” paige says, and azzi slows her breathing as she tries to listen. eventually, she hears it. paige’s heart, on one hundred, plump and ripe as it pounds steadily against the meat of her hand. “do you know who’s doing this to me?”

azzi looks up at paige, eyes glistening. paige asks her again, voice steady, eyes steadier. “answer me. who’s doing this to me, az?”

“me,” azzi whispers.

“you,” paige affirms. her eyes are so bright, like ice under sun. “i’ll be tired of you only when i’m dead. and even then, i’ll claw my way up from hell to be with you in heaven, mama. i can promise you that.”

azzi watches her, sees the gleam of bloodlust and nods. she digs her nails into paige’s shoulder, and claws into her. she relaxes when paige claws back.

𓇼 azzi fakes it better. she packs up everything: the secret, the conversation that should’ve happened post her confessing her love for paige, the fear. it all festers. it beats against her brain like swallows against the glass of a window.

𓇼 she switches. the partying stops. the sneaking out slows. she remembers to have fun responsibly, runs herself into the ground at practice. she’s fine. perfect even.

𓇼 but the isolation begins. she needs to know who she’s dealing with, what vendetta she’s running from.

𓇼 paige won’t tell her much, this she knows. she tells her she’s tired to keep her at bay, but paige knows she’s lying. azzi supposes she allows her to get away with it because of the way she had been lying to her before. eventually, her time will be up.

𓇼 everyone is still worried about her though no one will say it.

𓇼 caroline starts sleeping over so much that azzi tells her to go back to her own place, if only to prevent paige from almost weeping with jealousy or something more psychopathic.

𓇼 morgan finds a way to keep touching her, trying to anchor her via the exercises given to her by her therapist. aubrey offers to talk and azzi says no, thank you with a bright smile. nika squeezes her shoulders when they hit the library together to study for a biomechanics exam from hell.

𓇼 the other girls follow suit: jana suddenly always ready for brunch, ice and kk practically living on her and paige’s couch, ashlynn walking with her after class. paige hates that one the most. azzi doesn’t understand it.

𓇼 paige will tense when ashlynn’s hand wraps around hers, their arms glued together as the other girl tries to talk azzi out of her worried thoughts.

𓇼 azzi kind of likes it, likes the fact that paige feels that something as simple as holding her hand should only fall within her jurisdiction. ash thinks it’s funny and azzi says nothing, focused on finding a way to live with the knowledge that she’s being hunted down.

𓇼 still, nothing makes the spiral stop. it only slows.

𓇼 sleep becomes a luxury azzi can't afford. every night after paige drifts off, azzi slips out of bed and hunches over her laptop at the kitchen table, blue light painting shadows across her face as she scrolls through article after article.

𓇼 victims one, two, and three: three volleyball players from the same school, found together. victim four: jasmine williams, duke basketball standout. body discovered behind the equipment shed.

𓇼 victim five: madison park, tennis prodigy from MIT. bled out on the pavement, a neat crescent carved across her neck. victim six: sophia rose, soccer star from uconn. found on the field with multiple stab wounds. no witnesses.

𓇼 azzi creates a map, marks each location with a red dot. she writes out their names, their sports, their accolades. she searches for connections, for patterns, for any reason why these specific people were targeted. for any reason why she might be next.

𓇼 the pattern emerges slowly, then all at once: they were stars. the ones coaches praised in press conferences. all but two were team captains. all were exceptional athletes with promising futures. ones with highlight reels that once went viral, but now stood as a testament to their white lighter lives.

𓇼 ones like paige. ones like her.

𓇼 "fuck," she whispers to the darkness. "what's the fucking point of any of this?"

𓇼 dark circles form under her eyes. she drinks coffee until her hands shake. caroline notices, offers to get her a prescription for something to help her sleep. azzi declines with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. she knows herself, and what she can become. the last thing she needs is to have to be weaned off of the sweet lullaby of a drug.

𓇼 at practice, she's still razor-sharp. fear has a way of focusing the mind, and basketball has always been her sanctuary. on the court, she doesn't have to think about killers or survival or her best friend's bloody (perfect) hands.

𓇼 geno watches her with concerned eyes but says nothing. he knows better than to interfere with whatever parasite eats at inside of her. kk whispers to jana that azzi seems "haunted." jana just nods, squeezes azzi’s hand during an exercise.

𓇼 night after night, azzi builds her theory. tacks photos to a corkboard she hides in her closet when paige is around. connects threads between victims who seemed to have nothing in common except their athletic excellence and the brutal way they died.

𓇼 she's so deep in her research one night that she doesn't hear paige approach until warm hands slide over her shoulders.

"princess, it's 3 am," paige's voice is thick with sleep, her fingers kneading the tension from azzi's neck. "what you still doing up?"

azzi quickly closes her laptop, but not before paige catches a glimpse of the crime scene photos.

"just couldn't sleep," azzi says, leaning back into paige's touch despite herself.

paige sighs, her breath warm against azzi's ear. the heat makes azzi’s body lock up, then break down."you can't keep doing this to yourself, ma. you gotta rest sometime."

"i'm fine."

"nah, you not." paige spins azzi's chair around, forcing her to meet her eyes. "i miss you."

the simple confession catches azzi off guard. paige looks vulnerable in the dim kitchen light, her hair messy from sleep. she’s in one of azzi’s hoodies, the sleeves well-worn.

"i'm right here," azzi says softly.

"you’re not though. you’re here—" paige taps azzi's forehead gently, "—but you’re not here." she places her hand over azzi's heart. "i want you here w’me. i miss my best friend."

the words hit azzi like a physical blow. because despite everything—despite the lies, the blood, the danger—she misses paige too. misses the simplicity of before, when paige was just her overprotective best friend and not a borderline psychopath trying to save her from another.

"come on," paige says, tugging azzi up from the chair. "laptop closed. no more death tonight."

azzi allows herself to be pulled to her feet. "what are you doing?"

paige grins that familiar smile that makes azzi's heart skip despite everything. it’s in moments like this one where azzi can see how paige will age, how she'll morph over time into something so golden and full of life. she watches as paige walks over to the speaker on the counter and connects her phone. a moment later, sza's voice fills the kitchen, low enough not to disturb their neighbors.

"dancing," paige says, extending her hand. "like we used to."

azzi hesitates, just for a moment, before taking her hand. "this is ridiculous."

"prolly."

but paige pulls her close, one hand on her waist, the other still holding azzi's. they sway together in the dim kitchen, bare feet on cool wood, the music wrapping around them like a cocoon. azzi rests her head on paige's shoulder and inhales the familiar scent of her skin.

for a moment, they're just two college students, dancing in their kitchen at 3 am because they can. maybe even two women married and tried, nothing in between them but love found true.

"i got a question for you," paige murmurs against her hair.

"hmm?"

"go out with me."

azzi pulls back slightly, eyes searching paige's face. "that’s not a question."

"az. you know what i mean. like, for real. a date. me and you." paige looks almost shy, which is so unlike her that azzi almost laughs. "been wanting to ask for a minute now."

"a date," azzi repeats, tasting the word. "like roses and dinner and—”

"mmhmm. if that's what you want. i just want you. however, you'll have me."

the honesty in paige's voice makes azzi's chest ache. this is what she's wanted for so long, and now that it's here, wrapped in flesh and blood, she doesn't know what to do with it.

"yes," azzi says before she can think better of it. "yes, i'll go out with you."

paige's smile is like the sun breaking through clouds. she spins azzi around suddenly, making her laugh in surprise, before pulling her back in close.

"bet," paige says, pressing her forehead against azzi's. "friday night. i'ma show you the best night of your life, promise."

azzi believes her.

𓇼 the next morning feels different. lighter somehow. azzi catches herself humming as she makes her matcha, stealing glances at paige across the kitchen. paige is unabashedly staring back and it makes azzi laugh so much she flashes her teeth.

𓇼 paige’s phone is connected to the mini speaker sitting on the counter and when ‘power trip’ by j. cole filters through, she sings the chorus to her with her hands out as if pleading azzi to release her from this cycle they're in. azzi flushes, covering her face as paige tells her “we are, we are, we are” in response to miguel’s crooning question of: would you believe me if i said i'm in love?

𓇼 azzi tries to play it cool, tries to tamp down the wave rising in her stomach. she rolls her eyes, pushes paige back as she makes her way to the door. at the last minute, she turns and says “i do want you, though,” in response to paige's horrifically loud and off-key wails about how she wants her to want her.

𓇼 paige lights up, full body, and rushes to the door. azzi giggles and shuts the door just in time, laughing louder at paige’s dramatic cry of her name behind the wood.

𓇼 still, she doesn’t lose sight of her goal. the research remains, tucked away in a folder on her laptop, but for the first time in weeks, azzi feels like she can breathe. like maybe there's a way through this darkness after all.

𓇼 paige brings her flowers between classes. it’s beautiful: a coil of baby pink peonies mixed in with lilies so orange they almost glow. azzi blushes when paige hands them to her in front of everyone, her smile pulled out like a ship called to shore.

𓇼 "what's this for?" azzi asks, burying her nose in the petals to hide her smile.

𓇼 "practice, princess," paige says with a wink. "for friday."

𓇼 the rest of the team notices the shift. kk raises an eyebrow when paige's hand lingers on azzi's back during practice. jana smirks knowingly when they arrive to team breakfast together, paige carrying azzi's bag alongside her own.

𓇼 caroline corners azzi in the locker room. "finally happening, huh?" she asks, nodding toward paige across the room. azzi just shrugs, but she can't keep the smile off her face. "maybe."

𓇼 "about time. you two have been dancing around each other forever." this time from ashlynn. the words are sweet, encouraging, but azzi can’t help but feel her tone is slightly cold. however, the irony of that statement—of how literal their dancing had been—makes azzi laugh.

𓇼 even geno seems pleased, his usual gruff demeanor softening when he catches paige stealing a kiss from azzi after a particularly good drill, her lips parting to show her teeth as she grins against azzi’s cheek.

𓇼 for three blissful days, azzi almost forgets. believes they could be normal. convinces herself that the horrors lurking beneath the surface of their lives might remain there.

𓇼 but nothing good lasts forever.

𓇼 it happens on thursday night. one day before their date. azzi, jana, and morgan are in the library, their concentration on the edge as they cram for their biomechanics exam.

𓇼 "i swear to god, if i never hear the word 'kinetic chain' again, it'll be too soon," morgan groans, closing her book with a thud.

𓇼 "you know your stuff," jana insists, nudging morgan with her elbow. "you'll do fine, babe."

𓇼 "easy for you to say. you're actually good at science."

𓇼 azzi knocks their knees together in camaraderie, about to chime in with her own complaints about the exam, when the lights flicker once, twice, then go out completely.

𓇼 the library plunges into darkness, the only illumination coming from the emergency exit signs casting a deep red glow across the stacks.

"please, don’t panic," calls the library assistant from somewhere near the front desk. "probably just a power surge. the emergency lights should kick in soon."

azzi's phone illuminates, casting harsh shadows across her face. jana and morgan follow suit, three small pools of light in the darkness.

"weird," morgan whispers, glancing around. "i’m kind of freaked out. do you think we should wait it out or—"

the crash of breaking glass cuts through the quiet, followed by screams from the front of the room. then another sound that makes azzi's blood freeze—music drifting through the darkness. a slow, distorted rock ballad playing from somewhere in the stacks.

"we need to go," azzi says, already gathering her books. "now."

before they can move, there's a commotion at the front desk, more screaming. the library assistant's voice rises in panic before cutting off abruptly.

"back exit," jana whispers, grabbing morgan's arm. "through the archives."

they move quickly through the darkness, phone lights bobbing, hearts pounding. azzi leads, and jana follows, with morgan bringing up the rear. the music grows louder as they navigate between shelves, the slow, grinding guitars creating a surreal backdrop to their flight. they reach the archives section when azzi hears it—the soft scrape of footsteps behind them, too deliberate to be another panicked student.

"hide," she hisses, pulling jana behind a tall shelf. morgan ducks behind a study carrel, her breathing shallow and fast.

from their hiding place, azzi can see a figure moving through the shadows. the mask gleams in the red emergency light; that same nightmare mask she'd glimpsed in the club, in her dreams.

"there's a window in the rare books room," jana breathes against azzi's ear. "we can break it, get out."

azzi nods, scanning the darkness. the killer seems to be moving away from them, toward the front of the archives. if they're quick, if they're quiet…

"on three," she mouths. "one. two—"

morgan's phone chimes loudly, an incoming text that shatters the silence. the killer whips around, head tilting like a predator sensing prey.

"run!" azzi screams and the sound tears through her throat like razor wire.

they break cover, sprinting toward the rare books room. the killer moves with inhuman speed, cutting between shelves to intercept them. jana reaches the door first, yanking it open, shoving morgan through. azzi feels the air shift behind her, and ducks instinctively as metal slices the space where her head had been. she tumbles forward, scrambling on hands and knees toward the door.

inside the room, jana is already at the window, using a chair to break the glass. the sound of shattering is thunderous in the small space. morgan helps clear the jagged edges from the frame.

"hurry!" morgan cries.

the door bursts open. everything slows down.

in the light of the exit sign, azzi sees the glint of the knife, sees jana pivot to protect morgan, sees her own hands reaching for anything to use as a weapon. the attack is swift, brutal. jana manages to land a solid kick that sends the killer stumbling back into a shelf. books rain down, an avalanche of hard weight. morgan helps azzi to her feet, both of them backing toward the window.

"almost there," morgan says, her voice incredibly earnest as she gestures at the window frame.

the killer recovers, lunging forward. jana grabs a heavy tome from behind her and swings it with all her strength. it connects with the killer's arm, and as the killer moans in pain, something snaps—a thin silver bracelet that falls to the floor with a musical chime. azzi's eyes lock onto it, the breath freezing in her lungs. she knows that bracelet.

the realization floods her with ice-cold clarity. it’s short-lived, a moment of consciousness before the killer slickly pivots, knife finding its mark in morgan's abdomen.

the sound morgan makes isn't a scream—it's smaller, more surprised. a soft "oh" as the blade sinks deep. hot blood blooms across her faded beige sweatshirt, appearing black as it stains the stitches of the malibu imprinted upon it.

jana screams, the sound primal and raw. the tang of blood fills the air and mixes with the salt of the tears tracking down azzi's face, mixes with the snot and spit of terror. she can taste it all. fear has a flavor; it’s metallic and bitter at the back of her throat.

the killer twists the knife cruelly before yanking it free. morgan stares down at the spread of her own blood, her expression more confused than pained. she’s mumbling, misunderstanding what’s happened to her as her mind tries to shield her one last time. her knees buckle, but the killer grabs her before she can fall with a strength that seems impossible for their frame. in one fluid motion, they drag morgan toward the window, its glass teeth jagged and waiting to tear flesh.

jana recovers first, charging forward with a wail that shreds her vocal cords raw. but the killer is ready. they are always ready. they sidestep at the last moment, and jana's momentum carries her past, sending her crashing into a display case. azzi lunges forward—but it's too late.

the killer heaves morgan's body through the window, the glass slicing her skin neatly as she tumbles through. her body falls into the darkness, a wet thud following a moment later, sickening and final. azzi’s eyes fill with tears, taking in jana’s distraught hiccuping sobs and her own rough weeping from the floor. morgan is silent, smashed into a memory on the pavement, her face undone into a mess of blood and bone.

azzi crawls to the window, heaves herself up. she must look insane but she doesn’t care. this can’t be happening. this isn’t happening. morgan needs to wake up. this isn’t funny.

“morgan. morgan, wake up. mo, please wake up. please. please.”

the world is smearing together. there’s white noise inside of her head. azzi is crying so hard that she’s unable to breathe, her body unleashing a sound that doesn’t belong in a human throat. she fights to not slide to her knees, sobbing as she distantly registers jana weakly crawling to her side, pulling azzi away into her arms. they’re a terrible scene: a girl holding a girl who is calling to a corpse.

“morgan, please. please.”

the world is ending around them. this is her worst fear realized. the killer only watches them, head tilting slightly. even through the mask, azzi feels the cold assessment, the casual cruelty.

they're not people to this monster—just sacks of meat to be opened, animals to be put down.

azzi's gaze drops to the broken bracelet on the floor, then back to the masked figure. "i know who you are," she whispers, her voice a ragged remnant. "i know, and i swear to god, i will kill you."

the killer's shoulders rise and fall in what might be a silent laugh. then, with one last look at the girls struggling to their feet, they melt back into the darkness, vanishing amidst the soundtrack of their destruction.

𓇼

azzi’s only silent when the police come. she’s incoherent, her mouth and chin covered in vomit. there’s a refusal to process the truth, a refusal to process the dead body splayed underneath the window. and yet, when they lead the girls outside, she finds the strength to run and hold morgan’s shattered body to her stomach when they try to take her away.

she looks oddly beautiful, jana thinks, gaze distantly focused on what’s left of morgan. her eyes are so pretty. she has big, starry eyes. sad baby eyes. i should’ve told her. jana collapses then, cracks her head on the sidewalk as she goes out cold.

azzi pays her no mind, says something over and over, so quickly that she remains unaware that she’s speaking. when she accesses the police report later she reads that she sat in morgan’s blood, crying out that she loved her again and again for over thirty minutes. the officers had let her have that time, had understood who this girl had been to her. the paramedics had whisked jana away almost immediately after her fall, unable to waste any more time.

but what sticks in azzi’s head years after the massacre is the way that murderer had looked at them. the way their body had radiated triumph and a tinge of sick desire as they watched her on the floor, as they watched her take in what was left of her teammate and friend.

azzi had been too busy screaming to see how jana had looked up and had silently begged them to kill her. but the killer knew at that moment that it would only hurt them more to remain alone and alive. that it would eat them whole. jana had grasped at them as they moved away from her and toward the door. she had almost touched their boot when they’d kicked her in the side, sending her toppling and cracking into the wall.

she’d landed hard, face to face with her slack-eyed reflection in the display case. her own eyes stared her down, and then she’d picked herself up, her body aching severely. she had crawled to azzi, unable to get up a second time, and curled around her wailing form.

now, azzi is silent. jana is unconscious. morgan is gone.

the body bag zips up over a person she knew, a girl she loved so much, that she would’ve done anything for. she lays on her back, her ribs fractured and grief punching through her lungs. she feels blood pool in her mouth.

a friend is dead, and the other is in critical condition. she thinks of this. she remembers the bracelet. she is filled with the certainty that she knows exactly who's trying to kill her.

as her eyes shut, light floods through her teeth. the sun’s risen.

𓇼 paige doesn't leave her side after that. not for a second. she sleeps curled around azzi like a shield, her body tense even in unconsciousness, ready to spring into action at the slightest sound.

𓇼 "i'm so sorry, mama," paige whispers against azzi's hair, over and over, like a prayer or a promise. "i should've been there.” she should have.

𓇼 azzi doesn't respond. can't find the words past the knot of grief in her throat. morgan is gone. sweet, funny morgan who always shared her snacks and locked her door and never forgot anyone's birthday.

𓇼 she can’t even imagine the emptiness that’s pooling deep inside of aubrey. she didn’t have a chance to speak to her. upon receiving the news all the light just left her. she shut down, went home.

𓇼 the campus goes into extreme lockdown. classes are canceled. police swarm every building, every walkway. students are advised not to go anywhere alone, to go home if they’re able.

𓇼 jana stays with them, unable to return to the dorm she shared with morgan and sarah. she sleeps on their couch, when she sleeps at all. mostly she stares at the wall, her eyes hollow.

𓇼 "did you—did you see…" jana starts one night, her voice still hoarse from screaming. "did you see anything? anything that could help identify them?"

𓇼 azzi exchanges a look with paige, whose expression has gone carefully blank. jana’s stay has resulted in paige having to act normal, but more interestingly—it’s yielded kindness toward someone who isn’t azzi. paige is quiet, not because she aims to protect herself, but because she wants to shelter jana.

𓇼 "just the mask," azzi lies, the broken bracelet burning a hole in her pocket where she'd slipped it during the chaos. "nothing useful."

𓇼 but she knows. she saw enough in those brief, violent moments to confirm what she'd thought she’d hallucinated. the bracelet. ashlynn's bracelet.

𓇼 she had watched her fidget with it during team meetings, a nervous habit. had complimented it once, and ashlynn had smiled coldly, said it was a gift from her mother. ashlynn, who was nondescript and kind and perfectly under the radar. who had thrown morgan out of the goddamn window.

𓇼 that night, jana falls asleep on their couch, the exhaustion of grief finally pulling her under. azzi sits at the kitchen counter, turning the silver bracelet over and over in her hands. the delicate chain catches the dim light, the small charm—a pair of wings—spinning slowly.

𓇼 paige watches her from the doorway, her expression unreadable. "you need to sleep, az."

𓇼 "can't," azzi says, not looking up.

𓇼 paige crosses to her, bare feet silent on the tile floor. she stops behind azzi's chair, close enough that azzi can feel the heat radiating from her body.

𓇼 "come on," paige says, her voice gentle in a way it rarely is with anyone else. "just for a little while."

𓇼 azzi allows herself to be guided to paige's room, the bracelet still clutched in her palm. the door clicks shut behind them, and for a moment, they just stand there in the darkness, breathing each other's air.

𓇼 "it's ashlynn, isn't it?" azzi whispers finally, the words barely audible.

𓇼 the silence stretches, thick and heavy between them. paige's silhouette is motionless against the faint glow from the window.

𓇼 "isn't it?" azzi repeats, her voice cracking on the question. paige's shoulders slump, as if under an invisible weight. "yes."

𓇼 the single word lands like a physical blow. azzi makes a sound—something between a gasp and a sob—and sinks down onto the edge of the bed.

𓇼 “what the fuck?”

𓇼 paige sits beside her, close but not touching. "she's always been... off. even before i knew what i was, i could sense something similar in her. i guess at one point, we were competing." paige's voice is low, careful. "she hates anyone who outshines her. can't stand not being the center of attention. went along for a while because it was fun, gave me a fix. then coach started talking about you being the future of the program...she snapped. i told her you were off limits."

𓇼 "but you—"

𓇼 "she's scared of me," paige says simply. "she knows what i am. what i can do. so she targets you instead."

𓇼 "to hurt you," azzi whispers. everything is finally coming together. "to get you out of the way."

𓇼 paige nods, her profile sharp in the dim light. "two birds, one stone."

𓇼 azzi opens her palm, the bracelet catching the moonlight. "what are we going to do?"

𓇼 "i’m going to get her back," paige says, the words falling like stones between them. "make it even."

𓇼 the certainty in paige's voice should frighten her, azzi thinks. the casual way she speaks of killing. but instead, it sends a different kind of shiver through her body.

azzi is unable to sleep despite her best efforts.

she rolls over time and time again, even trying to listen to a three-hour video of ocean wave asmr. nothing works. her mind is buzzing with an amalgamation of terror and dark, desperate need.

she sits up, her scarf and bonnet sliding down her back coolly. she swings her feet over her bed and stumbles through the door and into the hallway. she doesn’t bother taking her phone or using a flashlight. she knows where she’s headed; there was never anywhere else.

paige opens the door with her eyes squinted with sleep, but it only lasts a minute. she’s so attuned to azzi, so wired into the signal of her body. she steps forward halfway only for azzi to press her back into the room, closing the door behind her. she leans against the door, hands behind her back and on the doorknob before she speaks.

“i feel so unsafe like someone is watching me,” azzi starts, not sure how to finish the thought. not sure what she needs beyond the immediate presence of paige's skin against hers, beyond the oblivion of touch. “i need you to watch me.”

“’m not following, az,” paige tells her, brow furrowing in confusion. “watchu mean?”

azzi says nothing, only looking up at her from underneath her dark lashes. then she moves, skirts around paige, and sits on her bed. she taps the space beside her gently, urging her best friend to come sit down. when paige obliges, azzi shifts back so that she’s further up and near the headboard.

without breaking eye contact, azzi takes her sleep shirt by the hem and lifts it over her head in one fluid motion. it leaves her chest bare, her nipples pebbling immediately in response to the cool air. they’re dark and hard, and make paige’s mouth water. her brain has gone offline.

azzi continues, lifting her hips to slide down her shorts and reveal the jade-green panties she’s wearing. the lace is deepened to a lush, emerald green at the apex of her thighs—her arousal soaking through. azzi crawls forward, brings her hands to paige’s face, cradling it before pulling her forward.

the first kiss is gentle—a question, an offering. the second is not.

azzi loses herself in the heat of paige's mouth, in the insistent press of her body. she tastes like mint and something headier, something that makes azzi’s head spin. they fall back onto the bed together, a tangle of limbs and desperate hands. paige's mouth finds the sensitive spot where azzi's neck meets her shoulder, and azzi arches up, a soft moan escaping her lips.

they break apart and paige hovers above her, eyes reflecting starlight from the window. azzi thumbs at her bottom lip, swipes up the saliva there, and pushes it back in. she curves her finger, fucks it in like she would in paige’s cunt, and feels her stomach pulse as paige rocks down, eyes going up momentarily and revealing white.

"unh," she says eloquently, her voice rough with wanting and the syllables slurred around azzi’s fingers.

azzi laughs, then retracts her fingers. she forces paige up and off of her, adjusting so that she sits back on her haunches with her knees bent. she breathes. “i’m going to touch myself, and you’re going to watch me. and when i’m ready, i’ll ask you to touch.”

paige can’t think. she’s working on base instinct, on the primal need to please the girl before her. azzi smells so sweet like she always does. it’s sugar, pear, plum, and at the base—caramel. paige can't help but lean forward and bite down, working into the muscle of her tits. her fingers trace the high peak of the nipple left neglected by her tongue, moaning in tandem with azzi as the other girl spasms with pleasure. paige wonders if she can get her to cum just like this, if she can get her to release wet and hot and sticky all over her face; drip sweet and warm into her mouth.

azzi shifts beneath her, her ass practically spilling out of her lace panties, her thighs so full, so perfect. paige has to swallow a groan at the sight.

and yes, azzi’s just been through a horrific incident, and paige is barely holding it together, and probably high off of finally, finally having this moment, but god, she just aches for azzi so much. a spear of desire pierces through her, making her dig her nails into azzi's back to keep it down.

she thinks of before, of that same feeling of feeling less sick, less starved for the blood she thinks of wheedling out of perfect strangers. now, her body sings a cohesive tune. it’s azzi, all the time.

“paige," azzi whispers, pulling her up for another kiss. "you—fuck—you have to listen. not yet, okay? i promise i’ll let you touch soon, let you do anything you want to me.."

paige obeys. she can’t do anything but. she busies herself with losing her mind silently as she uses every single molecule of strength in her body to pull back. she isn’t good at being good all the time though, so she sneaks one last touch in and revels in the small sounds azzi makes when her fingers find her swollen clit, in the way she bucks when paige's mouth trails down her neck when paige’s nails mark up her inner thighs.

every touch feels both new and familiar as if they've been doing this for years, as if they were made for exactly this. paige thinks they were. azzi finds she agrees. finally, paige stops touching her and azzi can do what she needs to. she sits fully on her ass now, thighs spread open and a hand dangling lazily in front of the wet fabric of her underwear.

after a while, she drags them down her legs and off. she goes to slip them off the side of the bed, but paige stops her with a quick hand. she takes them, swirls a fingertip in the middle of the fabric where all of azzi’s arousal lies spilled. paige looks up, keeps eye contact as she sucks it off. azzi has to physically restrain herself from lunging for her.

instead, she spreads her legs wider and smiles slowly as paige’s eyes glaze over. azzi looks as confectionary as paige imagined her to be, her cunt perfect and full with brown folds that give way to a pink as bright as turkish delight. it drools unabashedly, precum sliding down and out onto the bed.

she's so sensitive, crying out weakly as she slides a finger inside. she pushes herself hard from the start, then harder and harder—takes herself further and further. paige is trying so hard to be good; her body practically twitches with it. she watches intently as azzi’s fingers dip deep inside her gummy walls, curling and pulling until a thin ring of white sits frothy and bright at the base of them.

azzi surrenders her eye contact with paige, head kicking back as she rolls a thumb over the rosy pearl of her clit. it’s swollen and straining with stimulation. paige makes a sound low in her throat as azzi’s brow scrunches, her hips rolling and swiveling to meet her ministrations. and paige knows she’s supposed to be waiting for permission, knows that she’s only supposed to do what azzi wants her to. but she just—she just—fuck.

she just wants azzi to feel good, and she’s so clearly struggling—so clearly begging for it. she can tell azzi is getting close, her thighs quivering as the muscles flex beneath the skin. just as azzi falls apart, paige crawls forward and over her, lowering her head to press against azzi’s kiss-swollen lips.

when her best friend falls apart beneath her, it’s electric and paige swallows the sparks, feeling something inside her chest crack open, something tender and frightening blooming in its place. she doesn’t let up, doesn’t stop despite azzi’s high whimpers. instead, paige trails a hand down until she reaches azzi’s pussy, playing with the lips and sinking in and out. her mouth is running a mile a minute, most of it incoherent and filthy.

“shit’s loose as fuck,” she murmurs against azzi’s neck, the words hot against her veins. “perfect and ready f'me, right? so fucking needy for me, aren’t you, baby? she needs me, doesn’t she?”

azzi tries to answer, but every time paige fucks into her she loses all ability to create a sound. so she mouths it, presses an endless stream of ‘yeses’ just beneath paige’s ear. one of her hands comes up and twists into paige’s hair, yanking a mass of blonde as she chases her second high. paige groans gutturally, the pain so familiar and so fucking good.

she feels azzi twist beneath her, feels the signal her body is broadcasting, and she removes her fingers. azzi makes a sound like she’s been shot, and paige kisses her to soothe her. she works quickly, tipping them further back till azzi is completely flat on the comforter. with steady hands, paige pushes one of her legs further out so that there’s enough space for her to fit in between them.

she shimmies out of her boxers and slides off of her shirt. azzi watches her with undisguised desire, her eyes softening as she takes in paige’s full, pale tits with their perfect rose-pink nipples. her brown eyes darken as her gaze dips and falls on paige’s cunt, the lips slightly large and iced like a cupcake with her cum.

“fuck,” azzi breathes. “fuck, p, you’re so pretty. you’re so beautiful, baby. did you cum from watching me?”

paige nods, head hazy from the praise. “uh-huh.”

azzi goes to say something more, but paige might just die if she doesn’t get to feel her. she surges forward, aligns their cunts, and then drops slowly. the minute their clits touch both girls let out twin moans, high and strained as if in pain. paige rocks forward first, then back. azzi lets her set the pace, her mouth slack and her eyes so low that her lashes touch her cheek.

nothing in the world will ever feel as good as this. it’s simply a thought that paige knows to be true.

she leans down and places a hand behind azzi’s head, rocking her hips faster and faster. with every pushy and pull she can feel the heat of their cunts, their separate wetness becoming shared. paige thinks of the fact that as they move against one another, their cum is slipping deep inside of their pussies which makes her bounce faster which makes azzi groan like she’s been hit and that makes paige reach out and slide a finger in between her full lips.

and azzi wants to cum together, she really does, but she’s already so sensitive and paige is tearing her apart in her quest for pleasure. it only takes another grind before azzi screams and squirts, her hand flailing out blindly until she finds paige’s wrist and yanks her fingers from her mouth.

as her orgasm crests, sending her vision white and blind, azzi digs her teeth into paige’s palm to keep herself quiet, bites until the skin splits, and a drop of blood dribbles down her chin.

“oh shit, ma,” paige slurs, her pupils dilating wide. “fuckkk, honey, keep going. look at you, baby. give me that shit. c’mon, there you go. make me cum.”

azzi’s so overstimulated that her body is involuntarily jerking with the feel of paige still going and her orgasm still going and the world just keeps going and—she whites out, going unconscious momentarily as paige bucks faster and faster, hell-bent on cumming right inside of her.

“so close, mama, swear. fuck, just—just a little more. az, look at me.” paige slaps her cheek a couple of times, grinning maniacally as azzi blinks woozily back into the present. “look at me. yeah, fuck, yeahhh.”

azzi mewls weakly and she sounds so fucking pathetic that it’s what sends paige over the edge.

“holy shit,” paige squeals, her mouth dropping open. “oh. oh shit, thank you. thank you, baby. you make me feel so good. made me feel so fucking good. so fucking—god.”

as paige cums for the second time, azzi cums for the fourth—dry. nothing comes out, but she still pushes paige off and curls into a ball, slamming her legs shut as she draws into herself. paige is half-laughing half-sobbing on her side as her orgasm spills like sunlight into her belly, spreading out until she’s on fire.

they lie like this for a while, until azzi pushes out a whine and reaches for her best friend. paige crawls to her, still delicious with pleasure, and presses against her. her tits are sweat-slick against azzi’s hot back, and she’s so grateful for the fan beside her bed. she reaches up, finds the remote, and turns it on.

they both sigh as their skin begins cooling in the breeze, legs tangled beneath the sheets. azzi turns and traces patterns on paige's chest, her touch featherlight.

"i've wanted that for so long," paige admits, the lack of light making her brave. "wanted you. always"

"i know, p. me too," azzi whispers, pressing a kiss to paige's shoulder. "it was perfect. you’re so perfect."

paige tightens her arm around azzi, pulls her closer. "whatever happens, whatever comes next… i need you to know this isn't just—"

"i know, baby," azzi interrupts, raising herself on one elbow to look down at paige. "this isn't just a distraction or a coping mechanism or whatever. this is us. this is real."

the relief on paige's face is palpable, even in the dim light. she reaches up, tucks a curl behind azzi's ear. "real," she echoes, tasting the word.

it’s a covenant.

𓇼 morning comes too soon, streaming through the blinds in gauzy, golden ribbons. azzi wakes slowly, aware of the welcome weight of paige's arm around her waist, the steady rhythm of her breathing against azzi's back.

𓇼 for a moment, she allows herself to simply exist in this bubble of warmth, to pretend that they're just two regular girls waking up together after a night of finally giving in to their deepest desires.

𓇼 "i can hear you thinking," paige mumbles against her neck, voice thick with sleep.

𓇼 azzi laughs softly, turning in paige's arms to face her. "good morning to you too."

𓇼 paige's eyes are soft, still hazy with sleep, her hair a wild halo against the pillow. she looks younger like this, azzi thinks. more vulnerable.

𓇼 "hi," paige says, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

𓇼 "hi," azzi returns, tracing the line of paige's jaw with her finger. they stay like that for a moment, just looking at each other, relearning features they already know by heart. paige shuffles forward, kisses azzi close-mouthed and chastely. azzi hums, leans into her.

𓇼 the sound of a throat clearing breaks the spell. they both look up to see jana standing in the doorway, arms crossed, expression somewhere between amusement and exasperation.

𓇼 "y'all are not as quiet as you think you are," jana says, arching an eyebrow. "just fyi."

𓇼 azzi feels heat rush to her face, burying it in paige's shoulder with a groan. paige, on the other hand, just grins, unrepentant.

𓇼 "my bad," paige says, not sounding sorry at all.

𓇼 jana rolls her eyes, but there's a ghost of a smile on her lips—the first azzi's seen since morgan. "i made coffee. and we need to talk."

𓇼 she leaves them alone, footsteps retreating down the hall. azzi raises her head to meet paige's eyes.

𓇼 "so much for keeping this quiet," she says.

𓇼 paige shrugs, pulling azzi closer. "let 'em talk. i got nothing to hide."

𓇼 "nothing?" azzi asks, but they both know she’s asking something else.

𓇼 paige's expression sobers. "about us? nothing. ’m not ashamed of you, az.”

𓇼 azzi nods, pressing a quick kiss to paige's lips before sitting up. she looks down at her, strokes her thumb along her bottom lip. "no matter what you think, it's the same for me. i love you. all of you, paige.”

𓇼 paige watches her move around the room, gathering discarded clothes, her eyes hungry in a way that makes azzi's skin heat all over again.

𓇼 "stop looking at me like that," azzi says, pulling on paige's oversized t-shirt.

𓇼 "can't help it," paige replies, folding her arms behind her head, making no move to get up. "you're something else, fudd."

𓇼 azzi throws paige's shorts at her head. "get dressed. we've got work to do."

𓇼 paige catches the shorts with one hand, laughing. "yes, ma'am."

𓇼 as azzi reaches for the door, paige calls out her name. she turns, one hand on the doorknob.

𓇼 "hmm?"

𓇼 paige's expression is serious now, all traces of playfulness gone. "i meant what i said last night. whatever happens, i got you. always."

𓇼 azzi feels something tighten in her chest, a mixture of fear and fierce affection. "i know, baby. i got you too."

𓇼 and she believes it. they have each other. and together, they're going to end this. or die trying.

#mine ; 🐎.#pazzi slasher au.#pazzi fics #pazzi #paige x azzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #uconn wbb #uconn huskies

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