#like more than a handful of moments and lines and . idk. Just a lot that didn’t need to be there

[calypsocolada]

LOSER HAS TO FALL | hero x

(this is part two! click here for part one!) synopsis: maybe the top hero isn't as bad at flirting as you previously thought... authors note: helllooooo! second and final part to this lil series. i think i'm gonna write some more sometime soon about other characters. mainly lin ling <3, old e-soul, queen???? we'll see. hope you guys enjoy this! it turned out a bit longer than I previously thought and i'm sure there could be another part but... idk. we'll see how this one does! enjoy!!! wc: 4.6k cw: spoilers!, fem reader, use of y/n, angst, slightly suggestive, super duper brief mention of sewerslide, not proofread forgive me

click here for my masterlist!

It’d been just over a week since you heard from your father. He’d meant what he said. He was a lot of things but he wasn’t a liar. And you didn’t bother trying to reason with him. He was done with you. 

He had said many times before he only had a place beside him if you were a winner. And you weren’t one anymore. You lost. Pretty damn hard and pretty damn publicly. So you were dropped from your father’s hero association and quickly, a little too quickly to not be calculated, replaced by the next up and comer. 

You on the other hand had actually managed to get signed rather quickly. All thanks to Queen, who had taken pity on you after seeing you sat in the parking lot of the stadium way past when the tournament ended. You’d never really been left on your own. Every single step of your life was puppeteered by your father. You didn’t exactly know how to stand on your own just yet. 

But nevertheless Queen brought you to DOS and after less than a three minute talk you were asked to join the agency. It startled you a bit. Seeing as you were conditioned to think people who lost gained nothing in return. But you were still the top third hero and apparently MIckey, the head of DOS, saw that as a great achievement. 

“Oh, and before you go, Winner?” Mickey called, your hand paused as you turned. Mickey was sitting back at his desk, his hand reaching for his coffee cup. “Our surveillance system wasn’t able to pick up you and Hero X’s conversation.” He starts, you furrow your brow, turning fully to face him. 

“Our conversation?”

“During the tournament.” He supplies. You slowly nod your head. “That man he’s… a mysterious one. I haven’t been able to get a hold of him even for a moment.” Mickey tries to laugh off his words but it’s too hollow, too stressed sounding. “I even visited his floor but… it’s vacant. I’m just curious… since he didn’t speak a single word to anyone else the entire tournament, before and after. But he spoke to you… seemed like he said a lot.” 

“Well he…” You cleared your throat, trying to recall the short conversation. “He mocked me mostly. Then he…” You stopped yourself. He had asked you to dinner and for some reason that embarrassed you. “Yeah… he just mocked me. My hero name.” You averted your eyes. You felt Mickey’s eyes burn into you, you forced yourself to meet his eyes. It was clear he only half believed you, which was fine because you were telling a half truth.

“That’s all?” He asked. You nodded your head. Mickey swallows, nodding head head. 

“Well alright then, welcome to DOS, Winner.”

And welcomed you were. And marketed to. Though this time around you had a lot more say in the kinds of sponsorships and brand deals you took. You had asked a few times to change your hero name but it was always met with a resounding ‘no’. 

“If you change it now, it’s like starting all over!” Mickey had said to you over the phone as you were chauffeured back to the hero tower. 

“What’s so wrong with starting over?” You asked and felt disheartened when you heard Mickey’s laugh over the line. 

“Winner is a beloved hero and a household name. Everyone knows Winner. Millions of people have put their trust in Winner. Winners in the top three leaderboard of heroes. You can’t start over now.” Mickey listened as your car pulled up and your door was opened. 

“It doesn’t feel like me.”

“What does? Winner is a persona… she isn’t supposed to be you.” Mickey says and you can hear the exasperation in his voice and that part of you that never really got out of the habits your father instilled in you rolled over. 

“Alright,” You conceded. “I won’t ask again.” You said, stepping out of the car into the blinding sun, you shielded your eyes as Mickey over the phone all but cheered.

“Good girl.” He hangs up the phone, that familiar click turning your blood hot. You shoved your phone in your pocket and strutted towards the elevator. It dinged, the white doors pulling apart as you stepped inside and let it carry you up to your floor. It slowed to a stop and pulled apart again as you stepped out, something shining and catching your attention. The familiar sound of a coin slicing through the air as it flips onto a hand. The doors to the elevator pulled shut behind you as your eyes met X’s. He leaned against your kitchen island looking exactly as he had the day he beat you. The same tailored suit, slicked back hair and shit eating grin, although he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

“Busy day?” He asked nonchalantly, pocketing the coin he was fiddling with. You stared at him, mouth slightly agape. He raised his brows slightly, tilting his head. “Well?” He encouraged. You cleared your throat, there was something about him. Something like a demand for your attention. 

“Yes. It was busy.” You said. X snapped, two glasses materializing in his hands. 

“Share a drink?” He asks. 

“I… don’t have any wine-” He snaps again and a bottle clatters on the top of your counter. He turns, reaching for the bottle, popping the cork and pouring you both a glass. You hesitantly make your way towards him. He slid your glass to your side of the kitchen island and raised his glass towards you. Your fingers slid around the cold glass, slowly raising it to meet his. His eyes caress your face as your glasses clink. 

“To signing to a new association.” He says, tilting the glass towards you before pulling it towards his lips. 

“How did you-”

“I know alot about you.” he interrupts. “Also it’s all over the news.” He adds as you pull your own glass to your lips. You two meet eyes, taking sips. The third floor of the hero tower had never felt smaller than in this moment.

“What’s… your deal?” You asked as X leaned back, gulping down his glass, snapping as it refills itself. 

“My deal?” He echoes your words, smirking at you. 

“Yes,” You affirmed, setting your glass down. “Your deal.”

“You’re not still mad at me, are you?” He asks and you're glad you set your glass down because you probably would’ve sent it careening towards his head. 

“That implies that I even think about you.” You countered. X perked up at your words, he almost looked… thrilled at your sharp tone. 

“You don’t?” He asks, his voice… soft, almost lilting. You shook your head. 

“My boss does. He’s curious about the top hero.” You said, reaching for your glass again, taking a sip. X purses his lips slightly. 

“And you?” He asks, your eyes cut to his.

“And me?”

“Mhm.” He hums. “You're not the least bit curious about me?” If you could choose a hero name for this man, you would’ve gladly and quickly chosen shameless. 

“Who’re you? What’s your name?”

“X.” He answers simply. 

“You’ll call me by my real name but you won’t tell me your real name?” You asked. X took another long sip. 

“It’s better this way.” He shrugs. “Any other questions for me?”

“Why’re you here? In my home?”

“Well you know… you never answered me.” He runs his finger over the rim of his glass. 

“Hm?” You hummed before taking another sip of the wine. It was good wine, a familiar taste. 

“Dinner?” He grins over his glass. Your eyes cut to his again. Right… guess you never answered him. 

“No.” You said and X’s grin faltered for a moment before he smoothly recovered. 

“No? Just like that?” He dips his head, a strand of his hair falling in his face.

“Just like that.” You affirmed. X rose to his feet, he reached up, smoothing his hair back, he raised his hands in mock surrender. 

“I know how to take ‘no’ for an answer.” He smiles, the first genuine thing you’d seen from him. It was… actually a good look on him. He looked sly when he smirked. He looked down right handsome when he smiled. You walked him to the door, his hand reached out, clicking the elevator button as the cables came to life, pulling it up to your floor. The doors slide open and X steps in. 

“You know, I pegged you as someone who would barter just a bit for dinner.” You said, smirking yourself. X’s eyes snapped to yours. “I must not know you very well.” You waved, he parted his lips to speak just as the doors slid to a close. You stepped back, alone and overwhelmed. You… you had never flirted before. It wasn’t something you thought would come easy but… it came easy just now. It felt good to smile, to tease and argue with someone who didn’t anger easily. It was like he drew out a different side to you. A side of you that wasn’t marred down by lessons learned the hard way.

X sent over a thousand roses a week later. You came home from a mission, exhausted and staggering in pain and tripped up on them, almost sent sprawling on your tile flooring. You straightened, powers extending to hit the light switch. Every color rose imaginable littered the entirety of your apartment, every single surface had a vase with tens of roses inside. Your mouth dropped open in surprise as you winded your way through the apartment. Your landline rings, echoing through your apartment. You trip your way to the phone, yanking it up. 

“Am I pushing my luck?” X asks, you could hear the smirk in his voice. You swallowed hard, thinking about the clean up, about what the hell you were going to do with all these roses. 

“Twenty would have been too many.” You remarked. X laughed, his laugh was warm and amused. You heard his fingers snap and suddenly all but one rose was gone, right on the table next to the phone.

“Better?” He asked, as you reached for it, thinking the moment you got close enough it would disappear but you picked it up, turning it over in your hands. 

“I don’t understand your powers.” You said, tucking the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you walk the rose towards the kitchen.

“Yeah, no one does.” He says, his voice almost warm against your ear. You reach into the cupboard, grabbing a glass, half filling it with water.

“Tell me about them.” You say, placing the rose in the water. 

“You wanna know more about me? Let me take you out to dinner.”

“We’re back on that, huh?” You ask, feeling something warm spread through your body.

“Well, here I am… bartering for dinner.” He says and that warmth goes a bit hot. You swallow. 

“I don't get it. You’re an enigma. Everyones talking about you, about X. No one knows a damn thing, you don’t talk to anyone else in the association. What’s your fascination with me?” You ask, sliding onto the counter. It’s quiet for a moment. 

“You’re fascinating.” He answers simply, voice serious. 

“You never answer any of my questions.” You sigh, leaning back on your hand, looking back towards the skyline outside your apartment window. 

“I think… it’s pretty clear.”

“What?”

“My intentions, Y/n.” X says and your heart actually flips in your chest. You clear your throat. 

“Make them clear for me.” You say, voice soft. It’s quiet for another moment. What’re you getting yourself into?

“I want to take you on a date. I find you… alluring. Always have. I told you at the end of our fight I was a big fan.”

“Of Winner.” He was a fan of Winner, that wasn’t you. 

“No. Not the hero you pretend to be on commercials and tv shows. The one I see on the news smiling as she saves the day. The one that still introduces herself as if she’s not a top hero.” You swallow dryly at his words. Did he understand you? Was he seeing past the manufactured ‘you’?

“It’s… only polite to introduce yourself.” You covered, trying not to sound as affected as you felt. Even you didn’t entirely know who you were yet. There definitely still was a part of you, probably a part you could never entirely rid yourself of, that was still competitive. You wanted to be the top hero and you wanted that title to be something only you accomplished. To show your father you weren’t useless and still had worth.

“I have a feeling you're going to turn me down again.” X’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts as you purse your lips.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why’s that?” He asks, you think it’s pretty obvious. 

“I want to be the top hero. I could’ve been the top hero.” You start, glancing over at the rose on your countertop. “I’m going to spend a lot of my time this year training up so I can wipe the floor with you at the next competition.”

“Ah. So it’s like that, huh?” He asks, that smirk coming back, you could practically see it. 

“Enjoy it while you can.”

“Y/n, are you thinking this declaration of war will deter me in any way? Because… Quite frankly, now I want that date with you more than anything. I like a woman who knows what she wants.” Your brows shoot up in surprise. You were sure your words would put an end to the chase X was running.

“You’re insatiable.” You half laugh, half scoff in surprise. 

“Satiate me then. It’s one date.” He bartered quite well. When did just dinner turn into a date? And it was just one date. Something you’d never been on. Plus this could be your one and only chance to get actual answers about him. Everyone has a weakness, and you needed to find out what that was if you wanted a fair fight.

“Alright. One date.”

“Be ready in an hour.” X answered smoothly, you shot up. 

“Now?”

“Mhm. I’ll be there in an hour.” He hummed and the line went dead. You hopped off the counter and for an hour you rushed around. You took a shower and blow dried and styled your hair. You pulled on a dress that Queen let you borrow for a gala a few weeks ago and stopped in the kitchen, taking two shots to calm your nerves. Just as you set the shot glass down the elevator doors dinged and X stepped inside your apartment. 

“You didn’t give me much time, asshole.” You called out to him as he rounded the corner, he stopped in his tracks and so did you. He wasn’t wearing a white suit, nor did he have white hair. You didn’t know who this man was. “Who the hell-“

“It’s me.” He says, reaching up to push his glasses further up on the bridge of his nose. He had clean black hair, pushed sideways out of his face, black rimmed glasses and a fitted black salaryman suit. He looked like an office job worker, someone that would bump into on the street in a hurry to get back to the office. You furrowed your brows. He snaps his fingers and in a blink of an eye the white suit materializes, his black hair smoothing into white. He snaps again and he’s back to normal. “Most hero’s need a disguise to hide behind.” He reaches up, running a hand through his black hair. You realized you hadn’t said a word and cleared your throat. “Oh no… did I lose my appeal?”

“So this is who you are?” You ask and his face softens slightly, he nods his head. “You’ll show me this but won’t tell me your real name.”

“I’ll save that for the second date.” He smirks and that smirk was enough to make you realize it really was him, the two could coexist in your mind purely by the way he smiled. You relax slightly, your creased brow calming. 

“I really don’t get you.” You said but your voice wasn’t sharp or annoyed.

“Figured maybe you had a thing for brunettes.” His words draw a laugh out of you as you roll your eyes. 

“I don’t know what my thing is.” 

“Well I hope you like sushi.” He raises his arm. You hadn’t even noticed he was holding a take out bag. 

“I thought you knew a place?”

“Mhm. Your place.” He smirks, crossing the floor to the kitchen island, ripping open the bag to start pulling out the food. “I wouldn't get a moment of peace with you out in the public.”

“Why's that?” You asked, crossing the floor to lean on the kitchen island, his hands, once smoothly removing the food, shakes a bit at your closeness. He clears his throat. 

“You’re a top hero… everyone will know you. Not to mention you’d be on a date… looking like that.” His eyes drag down your body then back up to your face. You glare at him. “Pushing my luck again?” You nod your head and he laughs, snapping as two glasses and a bottle of wine appear on the table. 

“If I had known we’d be staying in I wouldn’t have bothered with this dress.”

“I’m glad you bothered. And I’m glad I’m the only one to see you in it.”

“I wore it to a gala. A lot of people saw me in it.” You remarked, reaching for the wine but he’s quicker than you. He grabs it, pouring you a glass. 

“You hate being flirted with, don’t you?” He asks, pouring his own drink. You thought about that for a moment. It’s not that you didn’t like to be flirted with, it was more so there was still a part of you that hated that he beat you. And sometimes being antagonistic to his flirting seemed to be a small payback. You shrugged, taking a drink. 

“I wouldn’t say I hate it. Maybe you’re not as slick as you think.” You say and find yourself smirking into your glass. X cocks his head slightly, eyes devouring your expression. You flush under the scrutiny of his gaze and wonder if your words pushed him to try harder.

“See this is why I bartered for dinner. What other woman would tear me down at every given opportunity?” He asks, his face all amusement and light. You bite your lip, hiding a smile.

“I guess… maybe I am a bit mad at you.” You say as he starts dividing out the food.

“Why’s that?”

“You beat me.” You say and feel a bit out in the open at your response. You couldn’t hide the vulnerability and you’d never been good at keeping secrets and for some reason you felt disarmed by him. He showed a side of himself to you that no one else knew about. 

“I did.” He smirks and you glare at him. He laughs it off and reaches for his glass. “But that’s because you didn’t want to win for yourself, right? You wanted to win for your father.” Your mouth goes dry. “Look, it's not hard to see how hard he pushed you. When you first became a hero you were everywhere. In every tournament and talk show. You were in movies and on cereal boxes. Everyone knew who you were purely because of how much you worked. There’s not a single other hero, aside from Nice, that worked as hard as you. And we all know what happened to him.” That’s right. You remember seeing that on the news. The hero Nice killed himself because of the pressures placed on his shoulders. You remember your father laughing at the tv. Claiming not every hero can take the pressure. It made you angry. You pop some sushi into your mouth. 

“It… it wasn’t all bad.” You say, avoid eye contact. “I wouldn’t be where I am today if my father hadn’t pushed me.”

“Your father shoved you. Not pushed. And no one thinks about your father when they think about Winner. They just see you.”

“They see the persona he created.”

“Sure. He may have created Winner but what’s an empty persona without someone to fill it?” He asks. You swallow, slowly meeting his eyes. “Your success is yours alone. Your father never fought against villains or in tournaments. You did.” 

“You really do sound like a fan.” You try to lighten the moment, the tension between you two has gotten a bit thicker. 

“I’m a big fan. I already told you that.” He smiles. You blow out a laugh. “And if your heart is really in it, I think maybe you could beat me.” 

“I don’t know about that.” You laugh, gulping down the rest of your glass. “You snap your fingers and stuff appears like magic. You beat most everyone in the tournament in mere seconds. I could put up a fight but I don’t think I’ll win.” You say as X snaps his fingers and his other persona walks around the kitchen island to stand in your space. You turn, looking up at him.

“You wanna know my weakness?” He asks, somehow he was even closer. You swallowed dryly, tried to push down the heat rising within you, failing miserably as your cheeks warm up. You nod your head and watch a ghost of a smirk on his face form. He reaches for your hand, warmer than your own as he guides your hand to his chest, holding it right over his heart. “I’m still human. You pierce right here and that crown is yours.” Your heart skipped a beat, his hand enveloped yours, he towered over you. You couldn’t find words, your eyes were locked with his. There was so much confusion. Your head and heart were at war. Nothing winning over lust. Because you’d never met someone so invested in you. Not Winner. You. “Did I push my luck again?” He asked for final time. 

Your hand shot to his tie and yanked him down forcibly against your lips. He made a surprised grunt of a noise, probably due to your strength. Sometimes you forget the extent of your powers. X didn’t waste much time in reveling in surprise though, he recovered swiftly. His hands are on you in seconds, sliding down to your hips, pulling you closer.

This was a horrible idea. You’d be facing this man in a tournament for top hero. 

Your hand ran through, messing up his hair, the other sliding against his cheek as his hand reached out, knocking things off the counter out of the way as his arm wrapped around your hip. He easily pulled you up onto the counter, parting your knees with his hand as he stood between them, body pressed against yours. Your dress rode up dangerously high on your thighs, his hand sliding up your thigh.

You wanted to be top hero. You wanted to be top hero. You wanted to-

He trailed his lips away from your own, kissing down your jaw to your neck. You sucked in a breath. You felt as though someone set you on fire. You supposed it was X.

He wouldn’t even tell you his real name. He was trying to get into your head. This is how he’d win again. 

“God… you wreck me..” He murmured against your neck. Who knew four words could make any shred of doubt about this moment completely evaporate. That little voice in your head had shut right up. You melted against him, hands yanking his lips back onto your own. You kissed him hard enough to bruise because your frustrations had passed into lust and you had to one up him in some way. Your hand slid beneath the shoulders of his suit jacket and pushed it off. He didn’t protest and even smiled against your lips. You fumbled with his tie, huffing as you pulled away from his lips to get a better look at the damn thing as it gave you trouble. He raised a brow watching you struggle. 

“What the hell?” You mumbled, he didn’t take his hands off you to help. “What kind of knot is this?”

“The regular one.” He answered with an amused expression. You shot him a glare, letting go. 

“Take off your tie.” You demanded and at your tone his hands flew to his tie, unknotting it with sly ease. You took over, whipping it off him. You blew out a sharp breath. 

“This is a new side of you.” X said, voice breathy and you met his eyes. 

Sometimes you got frustrated and angry. When you worked for your father your frustrations were seen as a weakness and what anger you had, your father had a whole reserve of. So usually you were able to take it out on the training dummies or run around the gym until you collapsed. You weren’t entirely sure what was making you angry here. Maybe the lack of control, your feelings of inferiority against X. 

You close your eyes, shaking your head. He’d done nothing wrong that you could see and you were misplacing your frustration. This just wasn’t something you were ready for. 

“This isn’t going to work.” You said after a moment. X’s thumb gently moved against your thigh. You couldn’t get out of your own head about all of this. About whether he was using you. “What… do you have to gain from this?” You ask and X’s hands pause on your skin. 

“I have nothing to gain but your time.”

“Bullshit.” You scoff. 

“Not everyone’s out for blood.” He says, reaching up and tucking your hair gently behind your ear. You met his eyes. “I think we both want similar things, judging by the way you kissed me.” You flushed at the memory. “I’m at your mercy, Y/n. What you say goes.” 

“If you're using me to— to get something I’ll kill you.” X smiles at your words, he drags his thumb gently across your cheek and leans in. “I mean it-,” He cuts you off, pressing a kiss to your lips. He kisses you tenderly, trying to make you forget those pesky worries. 

“I’ve been warned.” He whispers against your mouth. You breathed out shakily, flexing your hands tightly to keep from yanking him on top of you. He slowly pulled back, eyes looking over your flushed face. His hands slid onto your hips, easing you off the counter. “Walk me to the door?” He asks.

“You… you can stay. We can eat.”

“I don’t think we’ll do much eating if I stay.” He answers, his eyes eating up your face. You slowly nod your head, quickly fixing your dress, leading him to the door. You ruined the night, you felt it deep in your bones. You weren’t ready so you ruined things. He reaches for the elevator button. 

“Sorry.” You intone, a few steps behind him. His hand pauses, he doesn’t press the button. You look guiltily at the ground. “I ruined the date.”

“You didn’t.” He laughs and your eyes shoot up to him. “On the contrary, I had fun. Can we do this again?”

“You’re joking.” You respond tonelessly, bordering on surprise. 

“Nope. I’ve fallen quite hard. I think I need another night like this with you.” You can’t help but blush. “I’ll call you.” He presses the button and it dings, the doors sliding open. He turns and meets your eyes. You walk a few steps to the door, hand shooting out to grab his tie once more. You pull him to your lips again, a silent confirmation that you wanted to do this again too. You pulled away and let go of his tie just as the doors slid closed. You wouldn’t say you fell because only losers fall, but… it was sure something close to it. 

[rowanhoney]

Anyway don’t hate me but sinners was only alright

[ruinix]

nixy i am drunk and i cant make up my mind if i wanna make out with luke or just cuddle him

Or jack or quinn I'm not picky ya know

I love you so much smoochies ���😚😚😚

-🐥

Hello, lovely. You must've had a great time. I miss drinking. I fear I got barred from buying anything coz I just filled the fridge with lots of juice (like my childhood school juices) and now I am having trouble finishing them. I am losing it. Anyway, drunken cuddles/makeout time 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Lukey in the middle coz he was the first one you mentioned 😎 but yes, seperate blurbs for all three of them.

18+. Slight whore thoughts. Luke -> Jack -> Quinn (headcanon-ish? Idk). You and each of the Hugheses are drunk. Drunken advances and reciprocation. ⬇️

Luke Hughes

You would be so drunk that you couldn't stand up from the hallway on your way from the bathroom. Luke only found you when he heard a faint sound of you calling his name and there you were, giggling to yourself while you trace the lines of the floorboards.

He would call your name and you would look at him like you wanted to climb him. Luke almost froze but he managed to pick you up, listening to where you wanted to go. The couch, you said. You wanted to drink more which got Luke frowning, purposefully sitting you faraway from the beer cans.

"You're drunk," he blandly stated when you suddenly climb over his lap, your hands tracing over his chest, a mischief glittering your hazy eyes.

"Not drunk," you slurred, giggling as you leaned closer. "Just a kiss, Lukey."

Luke would try to resist, but he was also drunk, his blood buzzing through his veins, his heart picking up a faster tempo. He would normally feel nervous and not pursue your advances, but every sensible thought in his head was nowhere to be seen. He ended up witu his hand around your nape, letting your tongue snake past his lips, matching the fervor of your kisses. His other hand curves over your hip, slipping into your shirt, finding home against your lower back.

He would feel the lazy grinds of your hips, making his cock ache in his pants as your pussy rubbed over him. He would be so turned on but when your lips stopped moving with his, your eyes drifting close, he would softly lay both of you down on the couch, snatching the fleece blanket over you two.

He would cuddle you until he hears your snores. Until he also fell asleep with your head carefully tucked over his chest.

Jack Hughes

When Jack realizes how drunk you were--so much more drunk than him who can't even stand without his head spinning--he would be plotting. He crawled towards you as you try to open up another beer can. He gripped your hands so tightly, prying the can away, grabbing your neck as you try to protest, kissing you when you were about to shout.

He would chuckle into the kiss when you whimpered, getting on top of his lap to kiss him harder. "You taste like booze and you wanted to drink more?"

"Shut up, Jack. You taste like fucking beer too." you groaned, your arms wrapping around his nape. "Kiss me."

"So feisty." He would smirk, getting so smug, because when he pulls away, you would try and try to chase after his lips. "I'm drunk."

"Don't care," you huffed, looking so petulant.

He press a finger on your forehead, pushing you away. "You're drunk."

"You kissed me first! If you don't shut up and kiss me, I will drink more," you threatened, words slurring just a bit.

Shit, Jack thought he was more drunk than he realized. He would try to speak up but you grabbed him by his cheeks, kissing him until he gripped your hips, helping you grind yourself on top of him. He would try to act like he got a lot of self-control, bargaining a cuddle instead when you pushed his shirt off.

But the moment you stripped your shirt off. He would lose it. He would overturn your position, craddling the back of your head as he put you on your back on the carpetted floor. He would kiss you harder, tasting you mixed with beer, swallowing your moans as he grind down on your clothed pussy. Your thin pajama shorts would get so wet that you were making a mess on his sweatpants.

"I don't think I can hold back," he groaned, pushing down his waistband, his cock slapping up his lower abdomen.

"Then don't." You tugged down your own shorts, your leg hooking over his hips. "Just cuddle with me after."

That was all he needed to hear. He would fuck you so languidly, so much slower than his usual pace, because he was truly drunk. At some point, after you came around him, Jack would pass out. His cock would still be inside you, not managing to come himself, but his arms were around you, cuddling you like what you wanted.

Quinn Hughes

Quinn would be in control. He would watch your alcohol intake, counting the increasing number of empty cans, but he wouldn't stop you. Well, until you were basically on him and making him drink more and more than he would like. He couldn't fight you off, because you would give him the biggest fucking puppy eyes that had him folding.

For some reason, he would find himself naked after falling for your drinking games while you are still fully-clothed.

"This is fucking unfair," he complained once he realized the state of him.

"Oh, okay." You pouted, stopping your hands from getting to his cock which twitched because he also realized what you're trying to do. "Do you want me to be naked?"

He would choke on nothing. His ears were buzzing as much as his blood boiled. Desperately, he nodded. He watched you with wide eyes as you clumsily strip but you got trapped in your--his--hoodie, he ended up helping you because you panicked and was bawling your eyes out.

Somehow, Quinn got you to calm down, rubbing your back as you settled on top of him. He would watch you fall asleep while he swallowed his groans because his cock was hard from the feel of your warm breath on his neck. He realized that he didn't kiss at all throughout the night and that bummed him out.

Yet he was still so fucking hard. It would take him an hour to calm down after he filled his head with nothing but hockey and a few game losses then he would also pass out, promising himself that he would makeout with you when the morning comes.

Just quick lil blurbs while I eat my lunch. Nomnom. 😃🫣

-> more thoughts? List. Want to be notified? Join my taglist!

[rav1377]

Bear’s Den

bearshifter/hybrid!John Price x fem!reader

tw:SMUTTTTT! EEK!!!! kidnapping? Sorta-idk other crazy stuff, reader described as sort of chubby, somno , stc

THIS IS GONNA BE A SERIES 😝😝😝😝😝Got carried away the need to hibernate has been itching under John’s skin for some time. it’s getting closer and closer, he can feel it. he’s been stocking up more and more, ensuring to buy an abundance of goods at the supermarket, or hunting out more. he’d been eating a lot more lately, growing a layer of fat over his muscles. so he was out on another grocery run, preparing for the upcoming season. he was deep in thought, contemplating the excuse for the one or two people who might come questioning if he doesn’t show up for a few months. that’s how he meets you. as he’s reaching for a can of beans, his hands brush yours. he didn’t even see you, too focused on something else. so when his eyes flit over you, he’s taken aback. you might just be the most tempting thing he’s ever laid his eyes on. your hair falls perfectly, bringing out the features in your face. your soft skin is delicate and unmarried, free of scars and marks. it’s so different from John’s skin. your body soft and sweet, the little dress you wear looks like it’d been made for only you. it showed your legs, cellulite causing a few small dimples on your thighs. John might pass out as he looks at them, they’re thick and plump, connected to a good pair of hips. good hips for cubs. John thinks, and the thought sticks in his head like molasses as you open your sweet little mouth

“oh! sorry about that.” you say, jerking your hand back. you smile up at the man, and his eyes stare blankly at you. it’s like your voice knocked him out of a trance, and he blinks. “n-no, my fault love, ‘m sorry.” he says, stepping back to let you get the can. “go ahead.” he says and you shake your pretty head. “no sir, please you were here first.” John’s eyes seem to bear into your own and you grow flustered, cheeks reddening. still, you don’t make a move. “you need it more than I do.” Is all you say. so instead of leaving you there smiling at him with those little lips, he reaches for the can you were going for before placing it in your handheld basket. “o-oh thank you.” you say, looking up at him. “‘f course. always happy to help a beautiful girl.” he says and you chuckle. “it’s not nice to lie.” you say, smiling. “oh ‘m not lying love.” is all he responds with. so with hot cheeks and your can of beans, you thank him again before waving and walking off. John lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding before staring at where you were. something tugged at his heart and all he could think was mate mate mate mate mate. in his addled mind, you were perfect to be his mate. perfect to bear his cubs, being so nice to him, offering him food.

he knew he had to have you. it was decided the moment you opened that mouth of yours. he forgot about the rest of his groceries, bringing what he had to the front. at the checkout, he “bumped” into you again at the self checkout. you talk to him again, open now that you know him, not some total stranger. your eyes take in the contents of his basket, laden with non perishables and plenty of protein. “stocking up for winter, huh?” you joke, smiling as you scan the items in your basket. “heh. somethin’ like that lovie.” is all he says. he knew that he should say something more to you, do something, but he couldn’t think straight. so he kept it simple. “i like your dress. It looks nice.” he grunts out, eyes trained on his items so he doesn’t have to look at you. little does he know, you flush at the compliment. he thinks you look nice! this beefy man at the checkout line with the mutton chops thinks you look nice. you swear you might melt. when you’d bumped into him earlier you thought nothing could come of it, that you ran into the man of your dreams, only to be left alone again when you walked off. you’d only done that because surely he couldn’t be interested in you.

he was tall, taller than you and covered in hair. his mutton chops suited him perfectly, and his blue eyes looked at you like you mattered. his chest and torso were broad, stomach covered in a good bit of fat. still, there was no doubt that he wasn’t strong. his biceps were nothing but an indication of that. when you were in the checkout line, you’d thought you’d never talk to him again. “thank you! ‘s my favorite one honestly.” you reply, smiling with your teeth at the large man. his chest puffs out at that, preening that he made you smile. John pulls out his card and pays for his groceries, keeping them in the canvas bags they provide. when you fumble for your own wallet, John shakes his head, tutting. “let me pay.” he says, daring to step closer to you. surprisingly, you don’t move, and almost seem to lean into his presence. “no! I couldn’t let you do that.” you say, pushing his hand away. “let me pay. least I could do.” he says again, trying to reach past you and to the card reader. “L-least you could do for what?!” you exclaim, a strangled noise leaving you when his card reaches the reader, the tap function indicating the bills payment acceptance. your hand grips his forearm, trying to pull it away from the reader. John’s mind goes blank for a second, focusing only on your warm grip against his skin.

your mewl breaks him out of it and he grins. “oops.” he says, tucking his card away. “no!” you say, glaring at him. “sir, please let me pay you back.” John shakes his head and smiles, picking up your bags. “I’ll walk you to your car.” he murmurs, ready to follow you. “sir, it’s okay really.” you plead, shaking your head as he walks out the supermarket door. yet, you follow him, trailing his pace obediently. “stop callin’ me sir, love.” your outside on the sidewalk now, merely talking. “so what should I call you?” you ask, hands drifting to fidget. your gaze pierces him, and his mind is only focused on one thing now. he needs to have you. “John.” he says, and you respond with your own name. normally, you’d never think about doing something like this, but there’s something about this man that’s different. he calms you, his presence steady and strong. he drew you in from the moment you laid eyes on him. John shifts your two bags to rest on one arm with the one he has. “well, it’s nice to meet you John.” you say, smiling. you hold your hand out and John licks his lips. “‘m sorry love.” he groans, and immediately moves to pick you up, throwing you over his shoulder. a gasp leaves your throat and you try to twist out of his grasp, but his grip on your waist is too tight. “wait! no-please-John no!” you whine, hands punching his back weakly. it breaks his heart to see you fighting him like this, but you won’t fight for long. he can’t let you escape him. so he walks to his truck, opening the door before placing you in the passengers. he’s quick to climb into the drivers, placing the food between you before starting the engine. you’re shaking like a leaf, trying to not show your fear. “John what are you doing?” you get out, voice pleading. “not going to hurt you.” he responds, pulling out of the parking lot at break neck pace.

“Just had to have you, love. ‘m sorry.” he says, glancing over you every few seconds. you’re somewhat relaxed, on edge if anything. John tries to give off his best calming scent, hoping it calms you more. “what are you talking about?” you say, voice shaky. John’s silent, instead focusing on the road. when you pull in, his home sits tucked away. it’s made of wood, cabin style, and he turns the truck off and walks to your door. you scramble away from him at first, but he pulls you by the ankles, gripping you close to him. his other hand grabs the bags, bringing them with you. his door is unlocked and he walks in, setting the bags on the kitchen counter. you’re next, placed there, bottom on the cold material as he holds your wrists. he shushes you, keeping you still. you don’t struggle for long, his hold is almost gentle and there’s something about him that calms your nerves into thinking he won’t hurt you. “had to have you as my mate. smilin’ all pretty, needed you.” he grunts, pressing his lips to yours. flinching, the shock hits you as you melt into the kiss. he pulls away to kiss your cheeks, hands resting on your waist. “you want me to?” he grunts and you’re silent. you can’t admit that you want this, you shouldn’t. still, you whine and nod as his tongue traces over your neck. you have no clue what he’s talking about, mate. but when his lips graze your skin your mind melts.

John can’t stand it anymore, the animal coming out in him. so he lifts you again, carrying you to his, no your bedroom now, laying you on the bed. your hands run over the many furs that adorn the mattress, warm and cozy, stacked on quilts and pillows. “gonna have my cubs.” another kiss. “be so good for me.” kiss. “perfect little mate.” kiss. the talk melts your mind, limbs ordered to relax under he words. his hands pull your dress off, and you help him remove your bra. he rips your panties off in one go, discarding them on the ground. your hands trace over his large chest, tucking under his t-shirt and taking in his warm skin. a small moan escaped your lips at the feeling of all his warmth, and you snuggle closer to him. so he pulls off his shirt, allowing you to see the soft planes of his torso. his pants are next to be removed, followed by his boxers. all laid out for him, his hips encase yours and he grinds on your slowly, kissing your neck. “gonna be good?” something in you can’t help but nod, and John lines his member up with your entrance, spreading your legs. you’re already soaked, slick coating your thighs. it’s obvious that you wanted this as well. you mewl out John’s name as he slides in, thick cock rubbing the walls of your warmth. you can feel him throbbing inside of you, and his growls and grunts are all that’s audible from his lips. his head tucks into your neck as he fits into you perfectly, bottoming out. that earns a groan from both of you, and it’s not long before he’s rutting into you like an animal. each pound of his hips had you crying out in pleasure.

“ngh! John! oh-feels good John!” you cry, arms holding onto his biceps for what feels like dear life. the man grunts and pushes into you faster, huffing as his beard brushes your cheek. “please!” you whimper, and his hands hold you close. “a-all yours love.” he grunts, eyes screwing shut as you clamp on him, releasing out a powerful orgasm. your body twitches in the aftershocks and John can feel himself getting worked up more as he pulls out, only to push you over and into your stomach. he slams into you again, large member filling you up with each push of his hips. he’s so large, you almost can’t take it. if you were to look at where he plunged into you, you’d see your tight little hole struggling to accommodate his large cock, and the bulge of him pressing in your stomach. groaning, his hips pick up a new passion and he presses his chest to your back to whisper filthy things in your ear. “perfect mate. stay here w’me. round with my cubs. all knocked up.” he’s grunts turn into straight groans as your pussy clamps on him, the words going straight to your cunt. you gasp out his name over and over again like it’s a prayer and when his fat tip is pushing against your cervix like that, you can’t exactly resist coming on him again, squeezing and milking his length for all it’s worth. the urge comes, and his canines dig into the place between your neck and shoulder, marking you his. his mate. when you moan our his name, begging to be filled, he feels himself cum, groaning one last time as his hips roll into yours slowly. his release spurts out of your hole with each push, and he pulls out only to scoop it up with his fingers before pushing his softening member back in.

his bodies tired now, called to sleep by hibernation and your warm body against his. he pulls the blankets away to tuck you under, allowing you to snuggle into his chest. “my mate.” he grunts, kissing your forehead. you shiver in his arms. “won’t take after one. we’ll be up later.” he rumbles, and you nod sleepily. you don’t know why you’re so tired all of a sudden, but you really want to take a long nap now. it’s just so warm in the room, cozy under the blankets, John’s pressing into you so well, it’s all pulling you into a slumber. when you wake again, John’s rutting into you, grunting this time. he’s on top of you, and he moans when you blink up at him with sleepy eyes. you’re already close to your release, and you mewl when you come undone, the coil snapping low in your belly. he’s not far behind, thick, white, hot ropes of cum painting your insides. it’ll take now. he’s come in you for the past seven rounds, some you’ve been awake for, some not so awake. that’s one that about the hibernation, it pulls both him and his mate to that slumber. but when John’s cock is just buried in your warmth like that, hibernation can wait a bit. at least you’ll be with him this time around, trapped in his bear den.

[harukyuu2]

hii could I request Till, Ivan, and Luka x Ado!reader (the singer) and could you write their reactions to reader singing crime and punishment in the stage with their opponent and after could you make a little scenario after?

(if you haven't heard the song I recommend you to listen to it so you have an idea on what it's about! <3)

ANON WERE SO CONNECTEDD im literally obsessed with that song this month, idk why but here you have it!!

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT !! - Ado!Reader x Till, ivan, luka ♪

!! ⇾ Headcanons more than all, little scenario, fluff, relationship not tagged so you can take it as what you want, weird behaviour for Luka, neutral reader, a little ooc maybe since its my first time actually writting for alnst :x - Small revision !!

◊▸ TILL !!

This man was soo nervous when you got into the stage, he wont tell you directly— but he loves you too much for you to lose.

Now, when the song started with you showing so much emotions. he losed it completely

His eyes couldnt leave your figure, he was already mesmerized by you— but it seems you always find a new way to make him fall more in love

The way you blended so easily screams on the song, showing with them lots of emotions made him want to sing at your side— even if he thinks he isnt at your level, he just loves your voice so much. He didnt even care how your opponent didnt manage to get too much of a line since you stealed it with your screams.

He leaved a relieved sigh when the hologram showed your win, even if it was a clear result. He isnt able to relax a second when youre on stage, he has to keep a watch on you even if he cant do too much about it. he was so mad he couldnt bring his sketchbook to atleast keep this moment in paper instead in only his mind, well— his sketchbook is already full of portraits of you.

⇒ After The Round... Till was waiting for you at the backstage, the first times he did this he felt nervous and all, but right now he just wanted to see you. Actually, he is nervous! but his feelings of admiration and love for you are stronger than that. When he saw your figure emerge alone from the darkness, his heart began to race, and suddenly, the words he had prepared vanished from his mind—replaced only by the tired smile you gave him when you stood face to face. For a moment, silence hung between you two, he was staring at you mesmerized. Then, realizing how strange he must look, he snapped out of it, shaking his head and quickly trying to speak. "H-hey...you did great back there, the way you singed- i liked it a lot, uhm..it was beautiful" - He said pretty nervous rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding your gaze a little, you were so bright in his eyes that his heart burned with a simple glance at your face. You were getting used to Till's nervous presence, leaving it up to his struggles with communication after everything he endured back in the garden. Letting out a soft laugh at how he avoided your gaze, you leaned in closer—tilting your head to meet his eyes. Speaking in a low, reassuring tone, you tried to ease his nerves. - "Thank you, Till. Thanks for being there for me."

Your gazes met, and with a gentle smile, you wrapped your arms around him in a warm hug, your head resting in his chest to feel his heartbeat. You understood how much he struggled to stay obedient to the aliens, so the fact that he did it just to watch you sing on stage filled your heart with warmth.

At first, Till didnt know how to reciprocate correctly the hug and just tensed his body at your touch— he sighed, knowing you were probably hearing his heartbeat, so with shaking hands and feeling his cheeks warm up, he hugged you back lightly, scared of hurting you since in his eyes you were so delicated and perfect... Seeing the figure of an alien emerge in the darkness behind you, his grip on you tightened— the hug was more important even if he would be punished after for being with you alone. Lowering his head to your shoulder, he whispered to you with a shaking voice, not really wanting to let go "Can we sing together someday...?" ◊▸ IVAN !!

This guy had a pretty calm expression, he believed in you— no, better said he knows youre better than your opponent.

If youre able to make him feel emotions he wasnt able to feel before with your voice, its obvious youre gonna win to that normal guy!

Obviously, a part of him was worried for you, but not that much since its not the first time he hears you sing. He loved to spy on you in the garden and you always had such a beautiful voice that gived him weird goosebumps

He was so captivated by your voice, the way you controlled it, the mix of emotions you putted in it, your facial expressions...he wanted to be the reason for you to show all of that, he wanted to be the reason you express like that, he wanted your attention.

The result of the round flashed on the hologram. A part of him was relieved—he’d get to spend more time with you. But another part couldnt ignore the sadness creeping in, you werent singing anymore, and he loved studying your expressions when you did. It drove him crazy how you seemed to pour everything into the raw emotions behind your screams and vocals, completely ignoring the fear in your opponent's eyes or even the outcome of the battle itself. ⇒ After The Round...

Thanks to your huge win in the stage, your guardian gived you a gift— the freedom of running into the rooftop of their agency to look at the night sky for today. Not an artificial sky or the ceiling of your room, the real one that inspired you to keep going until you were able to escape. Feeling the air hit your face, you taked a deep breath finally outside of the stage. Looking at the sky in a deep silence that soothed the fear of dying... Until you got interrupted by something or better said someone grabbing your shoulders - "Hello!" - You heared Ivan say making you leave a scared yelp "Ivan-! dont do that! imagine if i falled out!" - You said with a small frown since you were almost in the edge of the roof, as always, he dismissed what you said with a small laugh— walking more into your side. He was here since he conviced Unsha to make a negotiation with your guardian or something, just to promote the two genuises of garden ANAKT. "You did great on the stage, i loved those strong moments you had singing, were you mad at something?" - Ivan ask with his usual mischevious smile patting your head, the calm surrounding hitting you both even if he was trying to be playfull Hearing his words, you sighed, resting your weight slightly on his arm. Almost instinctively, he wrapped it around you, holding you close. "No, no… I just thought it would’ve sounded better if I put more emotion into it," you murmured softly. "Ah, I was also a little worried he’d sing over me since he’s known for interrupting his opponents—but thats all." You spoke casually, remembering how you felt on the stage, but Ivan was quick to reassure you that your interruptions with the high notes and all blended perfectly into the song The moment between you two was silent again, with him caressing your shoulder slightly before breaking it again with a small mix of playfulness and sweetness: "Lets stay like this for a moment, i promise to not push you.." ◊▸ LUKA !!

Talking honestly?? i dont think this man would be on the public tbh... But because Heperu doesnt want his star pet to be around common pets even if its to watch a show! He would probably watch you through a screen tho

even if his face doesnt show any emotions he would probably like your voice, a part of him softens slightly for you even if its unnoticeable

Unconsciously, he would start humming the song, trying to mimic the strength of your vocals and wondering if he could reach that scream you did.

Pretty calm about the situation tbh, he was trained to take death as normal and always try to win. So he expects the same for you, he prefers you winning tho more than taking your death normally

Im sorry but from these three he lacks a lot of reaction !! He loves you...in his own weird way!

⇒ After The Round... Luka waited for you in his asigned room, it was normal for you two to meet after the rounds since it bringed hype to the aliens that the "Ruler of the stage" and the possibly new ruler spended time together. Obviously, that bringed a lot of money to your guardians, so its a little treat of them for you two! You entered Luka's room tiredly and he standed up when he felt your presence in the door, walking closer to you. His usual calm and blunt expression bored into you while you wondered what he was thinking about since he usually waits for you to get to his side He grabbed your hand, making your breath hitch as you tensed up, only to be caught off guard when he suddenly decided to bite one of your fingers. You raised an eyebrow in confusion but let out a small laugh, feeling your mood lift slightly. 'Eeeh? Luka, are you perhaps hungry...?' you asked softly, mindful of your voice after such an intense performance Luka taked your finger out of his mouth before looking directly at you, continuing to grab your hand he decided to give you a quick response- "mhm...maybe, can i be hungry of you too?" - He asked like it was a normal question, even if it flustered you a little he didnt seem to care since he meant it in a literal way Sitting on the couch with him, he placed his head on your lap, still holding your hand tightly as he guided it to rest on his head, closing his eyes calmly. Wait a second—werent you the one who won the round? So why is he the one getting the pats?? You sighed in defeat, knowing there was no way to win an argument like that against Luka. He knew all too well that you’d end up spoiling him anyway "Stay like that for now...and move your hand, i let you."

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

i cant really tell if yuu's involvement in ace's character is more for fanservice reasons or because they really did play a part in his character development.

like in nbc we have malleus choosing to focus on finishing the task at hand as quickly as possible so that they can then find the prefect rather than drop everything there at that moment and prioritizing finding yuu. (iirc) and compared to that we have ace who does put a lot of emphasis on finding yuu especially when no one seems to remember it during the halloween event it feels very traditionally fanservice-y ? and i cant really tell where the line is drawn for ace anymore. and you did mention a lot of other points in another post that you made esp with ace's dream recently dropping and the fact that hes the only guy whos dream yuu was actively involved in idk its a little confusing for me i hope im making sense TT no shade to the shippers im just a little slow in comprehending it all bvbvsjdj

your posts are always really neutral and accurate it just helps to clear up a lot of my confusions and questions i have when playing so thank you for your hard work!

[Referencing this post; you might also find this related post useful in the discussion of Ace and Yuu's relationship!]

DISCLAIMER: I do not mean to invalidate or detract from Ace x Yuu or Malleus x Yuu shippers or anyone who may interpret their relationship as romantic. You should ship what you like and have fun doing it. My reply aims to be more objective, but that should NOT impede on your enjoyment or whatever it is you choose to ship.

iufipaerasfeao Thank you for the feedback! I'm glad you find my posts helpful. I try my best to be objective when it comes to analyzing the story and characters, but there's no true way for someone to be completely neutral. There are definitely times when I have an aside to insert my two cents on a situation or I get super heated about a particular topic. Hopefully I still leave enough space for everyone to come to their own conclusions.

I think it's both fanservice and because Yuu actually plays a big part in Ace's character development? Like, it's technically fanservice but it does not feel egregious because it fits Ace’s teasing nature and Ace's bond with Yuu has been established from the start. He was the first student we met at NRC and we spend so much time with him since then; there's no way Yuu wouldn't have had an impact on him, especially when book 7 is now paralleling the two as people with insecurities about being weak/unable to do anything + not contributing enough and Yuu encouraging him when he finally gets his UM.

I commonly see people joking about Malleus having "missed the meeting about Twst not being a dating sim" and holding him up as "the main love interest". (And to be clear, Twst isn't a dating sim, nor do all Twst fans see the characters romantically; I am only speaking about this in a romantic lens in the context of this post.) However, I think there's a very strong case to be made for Ace as well. The thing is, I also feel that Malleus and Ace fundamentally appeal to two different groups of yumejoshi. Malleus is the tall, dark, and mysterious type you can "fix", the type of guy that would burn the world down for you. Ace is the teasing and approachable boy-next-door that has your back and supports you even when the entire world is against you. This is also evident in the ways they're set up in the main story; Malleus is introduced in a way that encourages much more "filling in of the gaps" due to how little he actually shows up in front of Yuu in the main story. It gives the player a lot of space to imagine what their relationship with him is like because there isn't a ton of interactions in canon to go off of. Meanwhile, Ace has many more canonized interactions with Yuu (eating lunch, doing homework, watching movies, playing video games, etc.), so the effort of thinking about what they actually do over the course of their relationship is already done for you. There is an established friendship and connection with Ace, but you barely see Malleus enough to truly have a strong impact on him or to change him. Does that make sense?

IADUPADF9A9FSBdb I do find it sort of funny that Malleus is basically like, "Oh, something unexpected happened (ie Yuu is missing). We'd better solve this." Not really showing much emotion about them being gone in Nightmare. (Malleus only gets annoyed when Leona begins to take charge; he is not mad at the fact that Yuu is gone.) Meanwhile Yuu is missing in Endless Halloween Night and Ace is the FIRST person to excuse himself to check Ramshackle for them.

If you consult the fandom and the fandom alone, you'd think the situation would be reversed. Edit: Malleus does have his moments of intimacy with Yuu (which I won’t be getting into here because then I fear this post would veer into shipping wars), but the English speaking Twst fandom has a VERY strong bias for Malleus x Yuu. Because of that, there is a tendency to misinterpret or misattribute every little thing that Malleus says and does to support the idea that "Yuu is his most important person". (For example, even though Malleus provides no reaction at all when Skully kisses the back of Yuu's hand, many Malleus fans claimed that he would be very jealous or would harm Skully for doing such a thing. In another Halloween event, Glorious Masquerade, people believed he was angry at Rollo for harming Yuu even though this was not the case; the event states that he was mad because the invitation he had been extended was a fake one.)

It is because of thinking like this that a lot of English speakers genuinely believed Malleus would OB in book 7 in a desperate attempt to prevent Yuu from returning to their original world. Misinterpretations, headcanons, misattributions, and personal projections were conflated with canon, leading to many people to believe that Malleus was closer with Yuu than they actually are. Instead, Malleus ended up OBing because he feared Lilia leaving and he barely even considers Yuu after he OBs. And, ironically, Ace is the character whose dream prominently features Yuu and a scenario in which Yuu doesn't have to leave them forever. It was always Ace that we had a strong relationship with, not Malleus.

Ace is often overlooked even though he has far more canon interactions with Yuu in the main story. I think this could maybe to chalked up to a combination of him being "boring" compared to the literal DARK FAE OP CROWN PRINCE M. Draconia over there and the fact that so many of those "gaps" are already filled by the main story. There's less room for imagination because the game has already defined what Ace and Yuu's relationship entails. Malleus is just so much more appealing when it comes to intrigue and mysteriousness. When you look at it objectively though... Yuu only meets Malleus face-to-face like 5-6 times for brief conversations. (Edit: I’m not counting voice lines because those are arguably directed at the player, not Yuu, to endear the character to you and/or all characters get similar voice line fanservice. The canonicity is questionable since the same familiarity in voice lines is not carried over to the main story.) 5-6 times… That's not nearly long enough to make a huge impact or change in his life (unless you as the player extrapolate and imagine more Malleus and Yuu interactions outside of the ones we see in the main story). At best, I think you could say Malleus is glad he can have a special little friend who doesn't know of his name and status? He doesn't really change because of that relationship though. Malleus doesn't even show up until book 2. But Ace has literally been there since the beginning, canonically spends tons of his free time with Yuu, and has been through several near-life experiences with them (several OBs). He has the chance to bond with Yuu. Malleus does not. (He has given Yuu advice once, sent them a card once, and reassembled a stage for them once; all other interactions in the main story are short talks.)

It makes a lot of sense that Ace would be the one "touched" by Yuu's influence, whether you see it as romantic or platonic. Both he and Malleus (and all the other characters, really) get their moments of fanservice--but very few characters' development is directly impacted by Yuu's presence. Yuu might be there for most of the main story, but they actually get only a few moments to engage with the other boys in the cast to the point of actually changing them. It feels like the changes that occur are more often the result of the other boys (Trey standing up to Riddle and holding his hand afterwards, Epel and Deuce bonding on the beach, the twins telling Azul he's lame but also being the first to check up on him following the OB, Idia finalizing his farewells with Ortho, etc.) Ace just so happens to be an exception to that, as Yuu very clearly plays a big role in his development.

[ilovekittycats2]

High Maintenance

Pairing: j. seresin x mechanic!f!reader

Jake “Hangman” Seresin’s reckless flying and cocky demeanor push the limits of both his jet and his relationship with his mechanic (Y/n), as the tension between them grows harder to ignore, blurring the line between professional and personal.

A/N: chapt. 1! hey guysssss once again sorry this is bad but i really wanted to write so idk....... lmk if you want a part 2 and send reqs!!!! pls!!!

WC: 688

In which,

Hangman keeps breaking his jet, and you’re not sure if fixing it or dealing with him is more exhausting

or,

one act of recklessness makes you realise that there may be more to Jake Seresin than meets the eye.

Jake “Hangman” Seresin was good at a lot of things—flying jets, making cocky comebacks, and driving people absolutely insane. Unfortunately for you, as the Navy’s top mechanic, his messes always landed squarely on your plate. “You fly like you’re trying to piss me off, Seresin,” you snapped, tossing a grease-streaked rag onto the workbench. 

Hangman leaned against the side of his F/A-18 with his signature smirk. “I fly like I’m the best, sweetheart. It’s not my fault if your tools can’t keep up.” Sweetheart. That nickname alone was enough to make your blood boil. “If you’re the best, why do you spend so much time breaking your jet?” His grin widened. “Because I know you’ll fix it.”

This was your dynamic—a constant battle of wits with an undercurrent of tension neither of you acknowledged. Hangman was insufferable, arrogant, and way too charming for his own good. Worse, you hated how your pulse raced when he leaned a little too close or shot you that lopsided grin. 

Keep it together, Y/n.

The call came through like a punch to the gut: Jake Seresin’s bird was in trouble. You’d been elbow-deep in another jet’s maintenance when the commotion started, and the urgency in the tower’s tone made your stomach knot. Hangman might have been the cockiest pilot in the squadron, but he was still one of yours—and whether you admitted it or not, that mattered.

You ran to the runway just as his F/A-18 skidded to a stop in a haze of smoke and screeching metal. The landing gear barely held, and the right engine let out a sickening hiss as flames licked at the exhaust. When the canopy opened, Jake climbed out slower than usual, his movements careful, deliberate. For the first time, he looked... human.

“You okay?” you barked as you closed the distance between you.

He nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Engine failure. It cut out at altitude, but I managed to bring her in.” His voice was steady, but his hands betrayed him, trembling ever so slightly.

You studied him for a beat longer than necessary, searching for any cracks in the façade. His usual bravado was gone, replaced by something raw and unguarded. “Let me worry about your jet,” you said, pulling your gaze away. “Just... don’t touch anything.”

The hours that followed were grueling. You stayed on your feet, wrench in hand, sweat dripping down your temple as you fought to diagnose the failure. Jake didn’t leave, hovering just outside your workspace like a restless ghost. He wasn’t offering quips or trying to charm his way into a response this time; he was just there, quiet and watchful.

“Why are you still here?” you asked finally, not looking up from the engine bay.

He hesitated, and when he spoke, his voice was softer than you’d ever heard it. “Didn’t feel right leaving her—and you—like this.” The confession made you pause. For a moment, you just stared at the mess of wires and metal in front of you, trying to ignore the strange warmth curling in your chest. “Well,” you said, trying to keep your tone even, “if you’re staying, make yourself useful. Hand me the wrench.”

To your surprise, he did.

When the jet finally roared back to life in the early hours of the morning, you stepped back, exhaustion tugging at every muscle. Jake, who had barely moved from his spot all night, let out a breath of relief that mirrored your own. “Thanks for saving my ass,” he said, and this time, there wasn’t an ounce of sarcasm in his tone.

You turned to him, wiping grease off your hands onto a rag. “Don’t get used to it,” you said, but the sharp edge in your voice was missing.

Jake smiled��small, tentative, and not at all like the cocky grins he usually threw your way. As he walked off into the dawn light, you found yourself watching him longer than you should have, wondering what it meant that Jake Seresin, for once, wasn’t acting like Jake Seresin.

And why it made your chest feel so strange.

series masterlist

[imistyou2]

You look so good next to me. c.sb

pairing: younger otaku!soobin x noona!reader

summary- Soobin wants to know why you won't take it a step further when he looks so good right next to you(or underneath you), so he invited you over to his place.

warnings: perv!soobin, nicknames, otaku!soobin (he loves anime and kpop so cute), kinda virgin!soobin, tit sucking, cum play and cum eating(if you squint), subby sub soobie he's so cute man, soobin has a big dick bwk, flavoured condoms because wrap it before you tap it, soobin crying a lot, playing with his Gojo Satoru figure(a lil nasty), ummm sex?? yeah they smexx, shiver me timbers!!

series masterlist

This is Part 2 but you can read it as a stand-alone

-

Your lips smacked together as you pulled away from Soobin's heaving stature. His eyes gently opened, finding yours. Chest rising in falling, touching yours. He could see the shine of saliva on your lips, the same on his. A part of his heart flutters whenever he sees himself on you. His mouth stayed agape, waiting for you to say something, but you just gave a cordial smile before saying the usual, "Okay, that's good enough. See you later, Soob."

"You're stopping it so soon..."

His round eyes look down at your smaller figure, lips slanting into an oh-so-familiar pout: his usual demeanor when you halted these makeout sessions. Your hand twitches slightly, wanting to caress his face and wipe that pout off, but you don't. Instead, you feign a nonchalant shrug before waving him goodbye.

Ever since that fateful night of Seven Minutes in Heaven(which were definitely not seven minutes), you seemed to have found interest in Soobin's company, indulging in a kiss or two and even some tongue tango if he played his cards right- that meaning him being an obedient good boy.

Soobin didn't seem to mind you fondling him every now and then, in fact, the thought he leveled up a notch when you didn't kill him after he pushed himself on you that drinking night. He was ecstatic to know you wanted to continue something with him. Yet, the whispers in the crowds tainted his mind. Yes, you were very popular, he knew it, and everyone knew it. With this popularity came the endless line of men (mostly douchebags, Soobin likes to think) who string behind you like desperate puppies, waiting for attention. They want to kiss you, they want to sleep with you, they want you.

He doesn't understand why a woman like you, who can probably get any guy she wants at the brink of her feet, wants him. Boring ol' Choi Soobin. And if you do want him, which seems evident enough, why do your hands linger a few moments on his chest before pulling your lips back and creating an arm-long distance between the two of you?

He knows how it goes, pretty girls like you make out and then you elude to wanting sex. So why exactly are you not following through?

The familiar shadow of what if lurks in. He is a man who recognizes his characteristics and is very capable of believing that you are simply too good for him.

Is that why you don't want to make love with him? Soobin wonders if you even call it making love, is there any love in there? It's just all meaningless sex to you, he thinks. In his twisted sense of reality, Soobin still wants you to have sex with him- even if it will mean a lot more to him than it will ever to you.

Which is why Soobin now finds himself shoving some food wrappers into the trashbin in his room. He is not a particularly dirty man (at least his room isn't) but he prays that it is clean enough for your liking. His heart thumps lowly, excitement trudging at the edge- he has never brought a girl over to his shared apartment with Beomgyu

He clicks his phone open, fingers tracing the Kakaotalk app to see if you've messaged him about your arrival, instead, he receives messages from his roommate.

Gyutari_beom hyung whens noona coming, imma be back late so that I don't hear all that nasty work🤞 Gojoluvr300 Man stfu, wdym nasty work?? Also idk when she's coming tbh... she just nodded when I invited her over...she should be here? What if she was just kidding and she never shows up? Gyutari_beom chill soobin hyung, always overthinking smh🤦🏻 Also saw noona and jia noona in the cafeteria today, they were talking something about "what a guy would like on her" a sign perchance🍀‼️ Gojoluvr300 man fr? i hope so... Gyutari_beom anyway use protection stay sexy!!! Gojoluvr300 ??? i'm a child of god.

The sound of the doorbell ringing alerted him, his head rising up from his phone screen. He rushed to open the door and there you were. Your stance was lax, fleeting tapping on the faux grass doormat, a little impatient but Soobin never minded.

You had a mini jean skirt and as Soobin's gaze steered above he saw the top you were wearing, a baby pink long-sleeve with a sweetheart collar. His vision lingered there, two small pebbles of indentations poking through the thin material of your top. He gulped, eyes flickering away to the side.

"So will you invite me in or we're gonna chit chat in the doorway, Binnie? It's freezing out here!"

"I-yeah, sorry, come in please." You tilt your head knowingly as you bend down to take your furry boots off. Your eyes never leave him as your fingers fiddle with the boots before pushing them off. Your cleavage is out for display, he can see the dip of your breasts, pink fabric covering right before it reveals a little too much. You did not seem to mind Soobin's eyes on you, smiling from his boyish reaction.

"A-are you cold? Do you want a jacket?"

"Hm, you tell me. Do you want me to wear a jacket?"

"I-...If you're chilly..."

"Well, we have plenty of time to warm me up, don't we?"

"Yes!", he yells back a little too enthusiastically, earning a chuckle from you. He's been keeping track of what makes you laugh these days, trying his best to yield one out of you- a little secret treat only he knows about.

Without waiting for the tall man to lead the way, you trace your fingers on the wall as you begin looking around his apartment. A very simple apartment, nothing too crazy, just like how you had expected. A big couch, a TV, a PS5 lying casually on the center table. As you enter his room, your head tilts in ponder.

You look back up at him, "Didn't know you liked anime." gesturing to the wall littered with various posters, from shounen to shoujo anime. You even spot a few K-pop group albums cluttered on his bookshelf, lying next to the many mangas and anime figurines.

"Y-yeah.. D-do you? I mean it's cool if you don't like it. Should I take these off?"

"I like anime too."

"WHAT?!- I mean oh wow that is very interesting, Noona."

"Aw Soobie, you big goof. You're such a geek, you know?"

"No I'm not! I just really happen to like something, I don't think that's wrong, I also like Kara a lot. Noona do you know about Kara? it's a girl group and they debuted with a song called 'Break It'-"

You grab a Gojo Satoru figurine from the nearby shelf, Soobin nearly shrieks but you give him a hard eye. The head of the figurine is jabbed into the centre of his chest. "Ah, Noona what're you..?"

"Keep talking, tell me about your nerdy shit, go on. You're such a talker, aren't you? Go on then."

The white-haired figurine sends small sharp jabs as it gets dragged down from the top of his chest, being swirled around his clothed nipples. Soobin's breathing deepens, the figure in your hand twisting his plain white T-shirt, bunching it up, leaving his waist exposed. "M-m-my bias is G-gyuri from t-the group, she had blond-d-de hair and and and nghh... Noona.."

Your eyes darken upon seeing free skin, soft and white, the abs you have grown familiar to touch as you please. "Hm? You like this Gyuri girl? huh? She's pretty? Is she?"

"Y-yes..", he stutters over his words before understanding your salty expression, "You're prettiest to me Noona...yes, you you you!!"

You smile coyly, Soobin knew what you wanted to hear and he'd say every word of it so that you kept playing with him. "And I like this anime... It's called Jujutsu Kaisen.. ugh! Noona f-fuck!"

The point plastic head hits his clothed crotch, moving in circles as you feel the area growing bigger and bigger. Your lips salivate from the very thought of his cock. "Yeah? You freak. Having a literal plastic toy pleasure you?"

"Ngh- yeah, I'm a freak, Noona. I'm sorry I'm sorry."

Oh? So he was into this name-calling as much as you were? You push him onto the bed, not before carefully putting the figurine back on the shelf. There laid Soobin, abs clenching as his mouth parted, bunny teeth out on display. His bedsheet was filled with cartoon characters, strongly contrasting with Soobin's red, erotic expression. You got on all fours, inching closer to him like a predator does its prey. Your hips bounce as you pounce on him, his bigger frame being covered only halfway by your body. He groans, rolling his eyes back before licking his lips. You sit on his lap as he remains lying on the bed, pretty eyes searching for what to do next.

You take his arms in one hand, holding it down between your parted legs, and you begin straddling him. "You like that Soobie? My binnie? Oh yeah, look at you, squirming when I've barely touched you."

"Noona you get me so hard, oh-oh~ shit I'll do anything you tell me to just keep going like that you're so perfect, Noona."

Before he knows it, his pants are coming off and so are his boxers. He thinks you're a little faster than you usually go but of course, he doesn't mind. His bare cock springs out, half hard yet still packing in the length of seven and a half inches. You cannot help but wish to see it fully hard again.

The red tip of his cock is shiny, glistening with watery precum that touches his abdomen. You bring your legs around his waist again, sitting right on top of his cock, your clothed pussy touching his warm skin. The jean skirt rides up to the top of your thighs, exposing the thong you are wearing. Soobin tries his earnest to lift his head up to catch a peek but your hands put him down, positioning yourself to be sturdy on him.

You keep rocking your hips back and forth causing him to release muffled moans, like he is trying to stop himself from fully giving into you just yet. Soobin can see the large expanse of your breasts as they jiggle with your moving hips. Your nipples are completely hard now and strain tightly against the thin cloth. They are so round and soft and he just wants to reach out and grab one, though he won't do it.

He knows the repercussions for touching you without your permission.

Your pace increases, biting your lips as you await for his climax to emerge but you stopped by a whining Soobin. "Ngh, no. NO! p-please I wanna take it slow...Noona. Don't wanna cum like this again."

You raise your brows, hips slowing down but they still rock against his hard cock, "Hm? What do you want then?"

He gulps, pursing his lips, and looking to the side, you make out a faint glow of red- something you always loved seeing on his face. "Wanna cum somewhere else...you know.."

"My tits? Sure. You look cute today so I might just let you."

"I mean, somewhere else!"

You look at him deadpanned, what the hell was this kid talking about?

"Ugh, god, inside, Noona. Inside! Inside you."

Your mouth opens agape, this is new. Soobin had never mentioned in the last month of your guys' kindling that he wanted to do anything beyond making out. You had always assumed the poor guy was a virgin, people like him tend to cherish their first time. Why would he want to do it with you? You guys are not even dating.

Your movements come to a halt, a serious expression on your face. "Aren't ya a virgin? Listen I don't wanna be responsible for being too much on you or giving you a bad time, alright?"

"But I wanna do it with you Noona! and...I'm not a virgin! I've had sex before." Your eyes narrow, he continues. "In sophomore of high school...with a girl who was my lab partner."

Pfft. Sophomore year? in HIGHSCHOOL? this man was practically a virgin. Images of Soobin fucking a faceless girl crashes in your mind, you cannot explain why but it leaves a bitter taste. Something about it is just not right, something about Soobin with anyone else is not right- even though it was years before you two had even met.

A scowl forms on your face before you even know it.

"You really wanna do it with me, Soobie?"

"Yes, just you." Oh wow. A sense of nervousness settles in, something you have not experienced with your previous sexual partners. Your body grows warm, lust filling in your desire. Fuck, if Soobin wanted you, who were you to stop him?

You get off of him, taking his hands in yours, pulling him to sit right up. You guide his hands to the hem of your top, he takes the cue and starts slowly pulling it off of you. The fabric brushes against your hard nipples. "Ah~ fuck. Good boy, always so eager."

Encouraged, Soobin takes it off, revealing your free breasts, they bounce a little as the top comes off. His neck moves forward, almost giving into his desires but he pauses, looking up at you. His mouth is parted open, pink tongue waiting to dart out. "Suck."

Your fingers interlace with his black hair, and you push him into the valley of your breasts. The soft fat cushions his face, Soobin would die here if he could. He begins kitten-licking the sides of your breasts before latching onto one nipple. The big black pupils of his stare back at you as he continues sucking. You make sure to notice this subtle change of making eye contact with you, previously it was only you doing the staring.

He's a fast learner, you think and smile. His sucking becomes harsher, desperate even and you see his hips mindlessly thrusting into mid-air.

"Fuck, baby, doing so good. You like sucking my tit's, yeah? fffuckkk. What a nice geek you are, Binnie."

As if agreeing with you, his head nods up and down while he continues his mouthwork. His hands roam around your body, pressing and pulling your skin. His hands reach the side of your hips, his fingers gingerly tracing the stretchmarks scattered on your skin

Your brows furrow, no guy has ever done this. Usually, they avoid it, focusing on your other assets. Your heart beats faster, and Soobin's hand kneads into your soft flesh.

His lips leave with a pop sound, two strings of saliva attached from your hard nipples to his shiny lips. "Was it good, Noona?"

You pat his head, scratching the nape of his neck as he closes his eyes, leaning his head onto your chest. "Really good. Almost too good. What other girl's tits have you been sucking, huh?"

"No, I would never. I never have, I've only done it with you.."

"So you've fucked another girl but only sucked my tits..not even fair.''

He looks down in shame," Let me make you feel good down there too, Noona", he suggests.

"Hm. Maybe another time." Another time, there will an another time? Soobin giddies up in excitement. He looks at you expectantly on what to do next.

"Where do you keep your condoms? Actually, scratch that. Do you even have condoms?"

"I do...they're kinda old though. Yeonjun hyung gave it to me as a birthday gift." You snort, of course, he did.

"Get 'em." He's on his feet, walking around his room to his desk drawer. He pulls out a cute pink box, takes a packet in hand, and hands it over to you. You flip the packet around, "Strawberry-flavoured condoms? seriously?"

"This is all I have...Do you want me to go to the pharmacy real quick and get a normal box?"

"Oh, Choi Soobin, today must be your lucky day because I have to like strawberry-flavoured things." You wink at him. He smiles back before getting on the bed. You get on your knees, stocking his cock a few times to get it hard again. Unsurprisingly, it's flaccidity is gone in no time, the hard cock stretching in your hand as you look at it with hunger. You have half a mind to stick it in your mouth and fuck him just like that but you resist.

You put the condom on with ease and he can't help but wonder how many guys you've done this with in the past. But, he won't ask now, he knows better than to start something that will ultimately upset him.

For the second time that day, you push him onto his bed. His cock stands erect. You slide your thong to the side, holding his cock to your entrance. It's so big, you have a hard time tapping it right wear your juices are. "Noona if you're not too wet, it can hurt...I don't want you to get hurt."

"Silly boy, look me, hm? You think I'm not wet enough?" Two pointy fingers dart inside you, coming out with a wet plop, when you part the fingers a thick translucent liquid strings out. Soobin feels himself get even harder. You were so hot, the thong slid to the side, a sheen on your pussy as you put it to display for him. Your fingers are placed on either side of your entrance before you part your folds.

"Shit, Noona you look so sexy, fuck Noona wanna taste you so badly. I'll be good I promise."

You quickly prod the two fingers into his mouth, fucking into his tongue, mixing it with his saliva. His tongue eagerly sucks your fingers. Soobin doesn't care that your pointy nails hurt a little down his throat, he just wants to taste you and submit to you.

As your fingers work in his mouth, you finally sit back down on him, and his cock enters you. It is definitely quite a stretch, making you arch your back. Your tits jiggle as your free hand presses down on his chest for balance. You get back up, much to his dismay before harshly sitting right onto his cock, the whole delicious length entering you with a swift motion. "AH! ugh fuck yes, so big so big, shit, Soobie, you big freak. Should've fucked you much sooner."

His cock brings a slightly uncomfortable stretch, something you are not used to but shamelessly find hot. There is a burn in your lower stomach from his length but it fills you in perfectly. You begin moving slowly, keeping in mind not to overwhelm the younger boy. You can hear his erotic moans, whimpering stretching into broken cries as you increase your pace.

Your tits bounce wildly as you keep fucking on top of him, you bring a hand to his hair, pulling on it. The harsh tugging gets him to moan even more. His needy voice ricochets off the walls, you can hear him all around you and it has never felt any better. Your pussy engulfs with a type of warmth Soobin has long forgotten the feeling of, it's addicting even. It's so warm and gummy and soft- Soobin would religiously make love to you every day if he could.

"Your pussy's so perfect, Noona. I love it, I love it. I love making love with you." You internally flinch a little with his choice of words. Is that what it was to him, making love? Your body grows even warmer with his words. He gets up, hand on your hips and he begins slowly fucking into you, amidst you bouncing on him yourself. With your permission, his mouth lands on your tits again, he'll get scolded by you later. For now, he just wants his Noona to feel as good as he is.

The entire world seems to have paused, Soobin doesn't care if his neighbours hear him, he has tunnel vision when it comes to you. He can only and only think of your beautiful face and how crazy good you're making him feel.

It is only a few minutes later that his hips begin to stutter and you know he is finally going to cum, you fasten your pace further, sending him into an overdrive. With his own sloppy thrusts, he climaxes, cumming hard. "Agh~ Noona, Noona, Noona. I l-l-ove y-y- it. I love it." tears begin rolling down violently from his eyes, falling on your neck and chest.

"Yes, yes yes. So good for me. What a nice cock, fucking into me so good. My beautiful boy."

Fat tears stain his pale face, and without thinking much you start wiping them off. You kiss the sides of his face, from his jaw to his cheekbones to his nose and finally land on his lips. The kiss tastes salty and you feel more connected to him.

He pants, trying to calm his beating heart. You both stay there for a couple of minutes. His head falls on your shoulder, and you feel the sweat on his forehead and his long lashes tickling you, they were also a little wet from the crying.

Slowly, you get off of him, taking his now flaccid penis out of you. He hisses a little, the sensation being a bit too much. You get a sudden wave of horniness from his expression: fucked out, teary-eyed.

You peel the condom off of him. "Noona, I'll discard it myself, please give it to me."

"Hold on, I wanna try something."

You take his whole cock, flaccid as it is into your mouth. The tinge of strawberry with his salty cum mix together, forming an interesting flavour(you won't mind trying this again)

"Ah, ah, ah, I'm sensitive, please."

"I wasn't lying when I said I liked strawberry flavour." You lick his cock dry from all the cum. And if that wasn't enough, you put a hand around his neck, pulling him on top of you as you guys begin kissing again. The kiss is messy but slow, Soobin tries to put his tongue inside of yours but you're faster, entering your tongue in his mouth instead.

You finally pull away, giving a last-ending smooch on his lips before sitting up. "I better get going now. Where is your bathroom?"

Soobin stays quiet for a few beats before pointing towards his door. "It's right outside the door." His eyes are downcast and even though you take notice of it, you don't say anything. You are back roughly ten minutes later, your clothes on, they have small stains here and there and you hope that no one notices them on your commute back home. You see Soobin unfolding a thick duvet, his bedsheets have also been changed. Quick and efficient? He seems to be a clean man, you observe. His face looks clean now, hair a little wet from washing it.

"Okay so, I'll see myself out then. Catch you later, Soobin." You bite your lips as you look away from him, hands holding each other in awkwardness. It was usually so easy for you to leave after a hookup but it just didn't feel right to get out right away. Nonetheless, you persisted. You do not wait for Soobin's response, turning around to his hallway.

"Wait-! Um, your clothes...they're dirty."

"Yeah, and who's fault is that genius? I'll be fine it's a bus ride home anyway."

"Let me...just lemme give you a change of clothes at least?"

You stay quiet. "Please. Don't want others to see you like that, Noona."

"Sure, I guess."

You sit on the edge of his bed, looking around his room again. You've known changed into a pair of Soobin's clothes: A black T-shirt and some shorts. They fit really big on you but the material is comfortable, it makes you feel warm. Soobin insisted on making you something hot to drink since going out in Winter right after 'copulating' is bad for the body (his words not yours.)

"Why is he doing all of this extra shit?", you ponder internally.

you hear his footsteps come closer, the drink is probably made. After you drink this, you'll go, you won't stay...

"Here you go, Noona. I know you don't like your drinks to be too sweet so I added less honey." You smile and take it from him.

"I-i just happened to remember your usual drink orders, nothing much..haha."

Your nose crinkles as you release a hearty laugh. "You cute little thing, Soobie."

"Um..actually, can you just stay? Like it's really cold outside and It'll probably start snowing soon, you know.. just stay back."

"I-um. Yeah, no. I should probably go."

"I'm serious, Noona. I want you to stay. Please? My duvet is really warm trust me. Like it feels sooooo good." he stretches his hand to emphasize the degree of "good" his duvet feels. You can't help but smile at his adorable expression. He looks so serious yet so cute.

He sets the drink from your hand onto his desk. Without saying anything he drapes you with the thick duvet, it has the same white-haired character from before. He was not lying when he said the duvet was warm, it was fluffy even. He climbs into the duvet, cold hand touching your now warm hands.

"Hey, you're cold, you know?"

"Make me warm, Noona.", he purrs out lovingly as he rests his head on your chest, your breasts acting like a cushion for him. You want to protest but give into his rather unusual charm. You pull the duvet over your head, completely covering you both. Your hand finds itself around his figure, hugging him closer. His cold hand turns warmed, your limbs tangled together. You just let yourself go, finally falling into him, his embrace.

Your mind drifts off and before you both know it sleep takes over, cradling the two love birds into the land of dreams.

An hour later Beomgyu comes in, creaking the door open slightly, eyes peaking in to see two figures fast asleep. He chuckles, not before snapping a couple of pictures on his phone. "So much for being a child of god", he mumbles before walking away.

-

a/n: unedited. i'm tired. also was the smut good? I've been writing for 48 hours straight so Idk. also part 3 maybe?? who knows. @youmistme for taglist

@imistyou2 2024

[cyberm4n]

You've now filled my head with nothing but Alastor and Lucifer brainrot. Any other sharing thoughts you have for them? (I cannot stop thinking about them, I quite literally thought about them sharing me during my entire 8hr retail shift yesterday)

alastor and lucifer sharing you pt 3!

pt1, pt2

this was highly requested, thank you all for the love <3 im tagging anyone who asked/was fine with it last time but now you can fill out this taglist form to ensure you're tagged for future posts!

tags: @lu-ferri12 @my-anime-garden @princessdreamss @polytheatrix @reaper-of-light-12 @ambi-squirrelly @hazelfoureyes @meggletoomanyfandoms @afernandez21

cw: angst ig?? idk reader is upset cause they keep fighting, general relationship issues for a moment, smut, reader gets eaten out, there's some light praise and condescension i think, alastor has a master kink, alastor discovers he LOVES eating pussy, there's like a weird sexual tension between alastor and lucifer for the majority of this if you squint, the ending is VERY suggestive

other: not 100% happy with formatting on this but i wrote majority of it on a 6 hour flight so like. you win some you lose some. not proofread that well, i kind of ramble at times too but it's fine. 2.1k word count and half of it is formatted in a headcanon cuase, again, lazy 6 hour writing. i also don't use the bolding and coloring that much cause it'd be a lot of work.

left the ending a little open, will probably do a poll tomorrow on if people want me to take this that direction.

■ okay so sex aside i would think outwardly everyone knows you're in a relationship with lucifer at the very least

■ but it's kept lowkey with the other part of the relationship

■ which both are fine with btw

■ lucifer loves pda so he's happy, alastor isn't a fan so it's whatever

■ the public part works out because alastor would genuinely be worried about someone trying to use you to get to him

■ it's bad enough that it's known the king of hell has a new partner, but nobody knowing that if they fuck with you they're fucking with the king of hell AND the radio demon is a silent advantage

■ if anyone knows, it's charlie. but only to the extent of like the fact it's a hinge relationship, everything else she doesn't know and honestly doesn't need to know

■ she's just happy her dad seems happy and is getting along better with alastor

■ i think alastor is the kind to really start caring during the relationship vs. lucifer caring about you deeply before

■ so occasionally alastor will pull you aside, or if no one is watching will just press a quick kiss on your forehead.

■ meanwhile lucifer is always making it known he's in love with you

■ arm around your shoulder, holding your hand, everything

■ again, alastor doesn't really mind unless lucifer decides to be an ass abt it

■ look they still compete with each other sometimes they can't help it

■ then it becomes a game of how much the other can get away with before you either get upset or it's too telling

■ that's the other thing is like, the competing gets really fucking annoying to you

■ we saw them in hells greatest dad it wasn't a want to be a better dad it's just wanting to out do the other

■ and when it transfers to your relationship it gets agitating fast

moving on

■ relationship side alastor isn't as involved with that

■ but if either of them did something that upset you or like there was a lovers quarrel between you and either side it's a big deal to them

■ especially if you're only upset with one half of the hinge

■ cause like, sure, they could compete with each other and purposefully drive you apart

■ but tbh.. both of them lowkey like this arrangement much more than they thought they would

■ so they end up talking to each other about it and figuring out what to do

■ same if you're upset with both

■ not that you're upset often it's just that when you are it's usually cause they crossed a line in their little competition

■ and they hate making their girl feel like a prize to be won :(

■ whatever their solution is, they do it together.

■ show you they can get along, that they both care about you enough

■ you're in your room, a bit of a blow up happened earlier after they got into one of their arguments

■ it's not that you genuinely think theyre using you to get to the other but sometimes with the way they act it's easy to doubt

■ anyways, they both come in, it's late

■ i cry when im frustrated/upset and i think it's a pretty normal reaction, so let's just say you're crying a little

■ they're both immediately at your side, apologizing profusely

■ you've never cried like this before

■ it scares them. alot.

■ for once there's absolutely no competition, the only worry is making you feel better.

■ both sitting next to you on the couch, lucifer murmuring how much he loves you, and how he knows how much alastor cares for you

■ i hate the whole "alastor doesn't understand emotions" thing because he does. he has to, he knows how to read people well.

■ it's just he hasn't ever comforted someone

■ he doesn't know what to do when someone he cares about is upset

■ so he's glad lucifer is here, as alastor just sits at your side nodding along and gently rubbing your back

■ alastor only tunes back in when lucifer offers to give some space for the night, and a little murmur from you agrees but asks they both come to bed that night

■ given its usually only lucifer who actually sleeps in the same bed as you alastor is surprised

■ but lucifer is beckoning him out for some space.

"cmon, we'll be back in an hour yeah?" he chimes from the door, and with a squeeze of your shoulder alastor is out of the door, but he opts to walk along with lucifer. "we gotta do better" lucifer sighs as he walks, not looking over at alastor. he's not accusing alastor, he seems equally disappointed in both of them.

"for her?" alastor adds, and lucifer gives a hum of agreement. "this while ordeal has been quite... stressful as of late, no?" alastor adds, "to our own faults, yes" lucifer murmurs, giving a sigh. alastor nods, and the two men walk in silence for some time, ending up in the parlor, husk far since gone to bed. "want anything?" lucifer pulls alastor back to reality once again, he's standing behind the bar while alastor had been staring off, his mind running with thoughtd of god knows what.

"whiskey, my friend?" alastor suggests, and giving it a considerate thought lucifer pours two glasses. the silence falls over them again, just the sound of the clink of their glasses on the counter.

"so tell me, how do you do it when you pleasure her?" alastor breaks the silence, lucifers eyes dart up to him. thinking for a moment before replying "i don't really think tonight is the time for that—" lucifer says, but in a gentle tone.

"no no, in the morning." alastor says, staring down at his glass. "you two indulge often in the morning, correct?" alastor says, now his eyes uncomfortably on lucifer. Watching as the other man almost pales a little, swallowing thickly.

lucifer immediately falters, giving a sigh. "look it's not— i‐ that's not her fault–" lucifer immediately starts, assuming this is a confrontation. his eyebrows raise as alastor shakes his head. "oh please, if i had problem with it i would have done something" he says, a static crackle echoing through the room. "no, i want to know how you do it when you... when it's just about her. how can i do the same?" alastor asks, and this is even more surprising to lucifer than this whole fucking idea in the first place.

■ so lucifer of course explains some stuff to him, of course it's hard because unless he's done it before it's hard to articulate some of his "moves"

■ i mean lucifer can hardly resist going down on you everytime, he's definitely experienced but it's hard to transfer that knowledge at times

■ but he's impressed alastor even asked

■ so when they return to your room, they're a lot more calmer with each other than before.

■ that night changed a lot between them tbh

■ it's slightly awkward for both of them when everyone gets settled in the bed

■ you're on your back, lucifer on your right side and alastor on the left.

■ they're both holding you to the best of their abilities

■ lucifer gives alastors hand a squeeze before shuffling it to have a better grasp on your waist

■ you all peacefully sleep through the night, not shifting much but it's pretty comfortable

■ is the morning you're mostly cuddled into alastor, which is entirely lucifers doing

■ when you're all awake though alastor gets arguably nervous

■ but you being you, you slump over onto alastors chest, murmuring some affection to him

■ lucifer gives a nod, it's time.

■ he'd honestly probably move to get out of bed, assuming some privacy is wanted

■ but he feels a shadow wrap around his forearm, it's a light pressure

■ alastor shakes his head, mouthing a small "please"

after lucifer processes for a moment what exactly is about to go down, he's okay with that. he settles back in, his eyes on the two of you as alastor tilts your chin up, pressing a kiss to your lips. "my dear, would you mind if i tried something a little different with you?" alastor chimes, and you blink your eyes open again, still a bit sleepy as you give a nod.

he gently maneuvers you on the bed so you're laying on your back, his hands pawing at your sleep shorts and pulling them to your ankles. lucifer watches, honestly a little mezmerized by the whole ordeal. he feels proud in an odd sort of way. “I think our little doe deserves a treat, would you like that?” alastor murmurs as he spreads your thighs open. You take a shaky breath before murmuring some form of agreement, maybe even a little plea.

without further prodigy, alastors finally leans down his tongue swiping down your folds, hands grasping your hips to pull you to his face. your hands go to hold lucifers, but he shakes his head tutting at you. “ah ah, that’s not very polite princess” he chides softly, guiding your hands to alastors hair.

and alastor makes good use of the tips and information lucifer gave him, his tongue plunging into your sweet little hole as his nose bumps your clit. his eyes wander up, making eye contact with you as he eats you out so wonderfully. you tug at his hair and he practically growls in pleasure, opting to change tactics and focus his mouth on your clit while his fingers slide inside you, gently curling into your sweet spot.

and lucifer watches it all, absolutely mesmerized. he doesnt know what it is about watching this but theres something about knowing alastor is doing exactly as told to in this scenario that makes lucifer feel warm. he lets alastor steal the show, doing only minimal work. maybe hes softly cooing praises or gently reminding you to show your appreciation to the one making you feel this good.

as you get close, evident by the murmur that falls past your lips, alastors eyes snap to lucifers for a moment, and he takes a moment to think before understanding. usually when youre close alastor is all over you, telling you to be such a good girl and cum, just slight praises and coaxing. given the fact hes face deep in your sweetness he cant really do that, so that job is up to lucifer now.

“isn’t alastor doing such a good job duckling? you want to make sure he knows how good hes treating you, dont you?” lucifer coos, scooting in behind you on the bed so you stop trying to writhe away. “I think he’d be so disappointed if you didnt cum for him, you think you can do that, hm? you wanna cum all over your masters tongue?” lucifer says directly in your ear, and alastor feels a bit of a warmth in his stomach by being referred to as “master”

when you give a weak moan in response lucifer sighs, shaking his head. “be a good girl now, you can do it little doe” he says which is what sends you toppling over the edge, your hips rutting up into alastors mouth, whiny moans coming from you as alastor desperately licks up your sweet release. this whole thing was quite enjoyable for alstor, but hearing lucifer call you “little doe” his petname for you made him smugly satisfied.

after some aftercare which mostly just involved more cuddling, alastor feels satiated enough to shift to leave, before getting a look from lucifer. he reluctantly stays, feeling as you come to lay at his side once more. lucifer seems to take note of something, giving alastor a nod down, he glances down, seeing the obvious tent in his pants. alastor looks back up, slightly annoyed. a like “yeah, no shit dumbass” kind of look is exchanged.

alastor looks back down at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you sigh happily. but alastor tenses as he feels a hand on his knee, shooting a glare to lucifer as he traces his hand up a little. the two meet as and alastor takes a shaky breath as lucifer leans in just a little, breathing out the next few words with a calmness alastor admires:

“just keep cuddling her”

[messenger-of-babel]

Home is Where the Heart is

Summary: You could never tell what Jason was thinking, and this particular night he has a lot on his mind. (Jason Todd x reader)

Word Count: 2.0K

Notes: Mini vent- had a bad day and this week has been really tough so I’m changing up the layout of today as well so I could put out a fic that was a little easier on my mind (I always need to have more pep in my step when I write for my lanterns idk why haha. So sorry Kyle my baby I want to do you justice so you're on backburner). It was indeed written to Ed Sheeran on loop cause I needed to lock in fr. ❤️❤️

Enjoy Lovelies~! xx

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When Jason looked at you, you often wondered what he was thinking.

What was passing through his mind that made his irises gleam that brilliant shade of emerald or let the natural curve of his smile adored his face. However, every time that you asked he just blew his hair from his eyes gruffly, but let the smile stay. "That's a secret," he'd say before his hand would pull you to kiss side and he'd press a soft kiss on your forehead.

It was a little known fact that the Red Hood was in fact Jason Todd, but it was known to even less that Jason Todd was actually a romantic at heart. Sure, he had a mouth on him, and he was on the receiving end of your hand up the back of his head more often than he wasn't. But he was also the quiet kind of clingy, the kind that would never ask to hug you or initiate contact, but would stay up so he could have your back pressed against his chest the second you slipped into bed. He'd laugh when you brushed the hair out of his eyes, the scar on the corner of his mouth unable to stop his boyish grin. It was those moments in your kitchen that made you think that maybe, just maybe, your life was all normal.

You knew it wasn't.

When your fingers brush against his forehead you know that the white tuft in his hair was a painful reminder of his death, the scar on his lips you so lovingly kissed caused by the very man who had killed him. His hands were littered with small scars from blocking knives and protecting his head from glass instead of childhood memories of climbing trees. His back was a canvas of white slashes that intersected in a map-like pattern, a surface already so touched that the symmetrical red lines you left seemed less stunning in comparison. Legs sporting burn marks, bruises permanent along his ribs; that was the Jason that you knew. So even if some days you pretended that he was some ordinary civilian like yourself, you still loved Jason with all your heart.

On this particular night he had come home from patrol, sitting on the kitchen counter while you patched him up. You had been a pretty awful field doctor the first time you offered, but he braved through your prods and pokes with a wince. He didn't say anything about the way you wrapped the bandages too loosely or that you had forgotten some antiseptic and had given the wrong type of topical painkiller. Jason could see the worry on your face, so he leant forward and kissed your forehead tiredly, thanking you with a soft murmur.

You didn't need to know when he slunk off the bathroom to rewrap the bandages, or when he reapplied ointment in the right area. He picked glass out of his own skin when you missed some, letting the shards clatter down the sink. All that consumed him was the thought of how soft you were when you handled him, when you passed the bandage around his middle, or when you tried to clean the wound with as little antiseptic as possible to try and prevent the stinging. He normally hated having to doctor himself up, meaning that even the smallest of injuries tended to scar under his negligence. Yet with you he had been ashamed of the scars, hyper aware of how your eyes lingered on them. More so, how other people stared at them when you were out together. So, for months he spent nights in the bathroom redoing the handiwork you insisted so passionately on learning, just so that there wouldn't be a scar you could blame yourself for later.

You were absolutely perfect, so there was no reason that he couldn't be for you too.

You had become better though, and that was through the help of Alfred. Now you had patched him up efficiently and tightly, patting his hip affectionately when you pull the bandage tight. "Almost done," you smile up at him, fingers pulling the end of the bandage tight and reaching for a bandage clip. "Just got to secure it and you'll be good to go."

He smiles and drops a tired kiss to your skin as usual, pulling your fingers away when you’re done so he can raise them to his lips. "Thanks, darl." he grins, eyes tired but grin still lively as ever. He slides off the counter to wrap his hands around your waist, kissing your nose. You just huff and give him a side glance, arms circling his neck without hesitation.

"What's got you all worked up?" you ask with a light laugh when he’s overly affectionate with you, making Jason groan and drop his head into your hair.

"Just tired." he mumbles. "Bruce pissed me off again today, started lecturing me on the way home."

"Bruce pisses you off most days." you chide. "How did you ever escape the lecture?" you chuckle, moving with him as he begins to sway.

"I turned the commlink off and came up through Southside Gotham so he couldn't follow me." he grins.

There it was.

"There's always something with you, isn't there?" you shake your head, beginning to spin around with him softly in the candlelight. He laughs, and you imagine it’s the sound of a young boy finally getting to live life normally again.

"Always is, babe. you know me." he chuckles, and his eyes flutter over to the candles you have on the counter. It was always dark when he came home normally, and in his tired state he hadn't questioned it. After all, his family worked best in the dark.

"Power outage at the moment?" he asks.

"Power got cut off." you murmur back with a sigh. "We missed last payment. Only a few days, but you know how quick they jump on those these in Gotham. It's all paid up now, but it'll take a day or two to get back. Cold things from the freezer are in the washing machine with the ice blocks."

He hums, stroking a hand up and down your back. "You're well prepared. Sorry for making you deal with them, I'll handle it next time, I promise."

Jason hated using Bruce's money.

Not only was it something that sat bitter in his mouth ever since he had come back, but he didn’t need it. Dick had also rejected it and moved to Bludhaven, and even though he'd never admit it, Jason respected the way he managed to build a home for himself there. He wanted to do that too, and he could do it damn well by himself. He still took some money, but it was no more than a wage from Bruce. He considered protecting Gotham his job, and he wasn't stupid. He wasn’t going to let his pride get in the way of helping you both live. He hated to see you stress about finances, but you never asked him. You never asked him to reach out to Bruce for more or reach out to Bruce yourself.

The first time rent had gone up it had nearly priced the both of you out of the cozy apartment you lived in, and you had been in tears for days trying to find a second job to cover the expenses. Yet you didn’t come begging for Bruce's assistance, no. You looked at him with those teary eyes and asked him to help make a budget with you so you could figure a way out, and you did. You were the most resilient person he knew, the most resilient person he loved.

He held you closer as he spun you softly around the kitchen.

You were going to need to be resilient.

He inhaled the scent of your shampoo and let his arms bask in the warmth of you. Your skin against his made the thrumming in his side ease and the headache blistering behind his eyes subside. As you relaxed against him, his head raced of all the ways that he could tell you. Tell the most perfect being that had ever walked into your life that he was leaving, and not only that, he was going to have to break your heart on the way out.

He cursed Bruce. He cursed Bruce for making enemies that had cunning greater than his own, for dragging him into the mess he had created. He had yelled and spat and screamed at the older man until his voice resonated off the cave walls, storming from the cave after tonight's fight. Bruce had asked the impossible of him, after they both got their asses handed to them in a surprise attack. They had taunted Bruce, not the Batman, and had enough evidence to bring Bruce's world and carefully hidden persona crumbling down around him. It just so happened that they had enough to bring Jason's down as well.

They knew about you.

Pictures of you had fluttered down towards him, filling him with an indescribable sense of fear. As hard as they fought, they had let the new visitor of Gotham's nightlife slip through their fingers and Bruce had asked him to break up with you not a second later. There was no empathy, there was no kindness or waiting for it to sink in for him.

But there never was.

In that moment Bruce was Batman, but Red Hood had been the scared Jason Todd.

How did he tell you that he wanted to break up when that was the furthest thing from the truth? That he would walk through hell barefoot and dunk himself in the Lazarus pit again if that mean that you were still there to warm his bed at night? How could he tell you that he didn't love you when his heart ached to tell you it every time he got the courage? He could play the tears, play the part of a sad breakup. That part was easy, considering how this was shaping to be one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do. It was the rage that he couldn't muster, for once. Rage was something that he saved for the streets, a place already so crime ridden and scummy that his bitterness and anger were practically masked under the filth. It wasn't a place for your home, the little shelter the both of you had carved out of Gotham with your own two hands.

So, he spun you around the room, eyes watering with tears yet to shed as he thought about how to let you go. He knew you wanted to stay, and that made his heart ache in return. It was like losing a part of him that hadn't even been lost yet, a void already forming in his chest. He sniffled lightly and thankfully you didn’t hear or notice his arms squeezing tighter, as if to imprint the feeling of you against his body. He tried to tell himself it was only a temporary thing, that he could explain it all to you later when the threat was done. That thought often lost against the conjured image of your heartbroken eyes his mind created to torture him, and the persistent thought that you'd probably never want to see him again when he was about to break your heart so violently.

You don't notice something is wrong until the first tear hits your hair, silently giving way to more. You notice the slight shake in his arms and the tension still wound in his body. Normally the stiffness in his muscles flowed out of him like water when he stepped over the threshold of the house, but not tonight.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask softly, pressing into him to try and comfort him, your heart panging in confusion at his strange behaviour.

Jason would never tell you, but when he looked at you he wondered what the rest of your life together would look like, and if you'd ever considering changing your name to 'Todd'.

[written-in-flowers]

Be the Light: Pt. 7 (SeongjoongxFem!reader)

Pairing: Hongjoong x Seonghwa x Fem!reader | Side pairing(s): Ateez x Fem!reader.

Word count: 6k

Genre: fluff, smut/ AU: historical au, arranged marriage au, polyamorous, royalty au

Summary: YN has spent her entire life in service of Han Sookmyung, Queen of Hanseong. She never dreamed above her station, or that she'd ever be in reach of Sookmyung's concubines, 'The Golden Ones'. But, when secrets are brought to life, her world is turned upside-down.

Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, heavily referenced torture (briefly), heavily referenced abuse (briefly), heavily referenced sexual abuse (briefly), enslavement, slight gaslighting, lost sibling, political drama, historical drama, joseon!au, concubine!ateez, nsfw content, virgin!reader, polyamory, polygamous, throuple, threesome m/m/f, oral sex (m. and f. receiving/giving), group sex, multiple positions, multiple partners, cunnlingus, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, virgin sex, virginity discussed.

Taglist: @huachengsbestie01 @mortalasystem (there were other people before but idk if ya'll still want to be tagged, so just let me know)

Part 6 < | > Part 8

*****

The procession line was longer than you realized. Wagons of the deceased decorated with white flowers started at the very first palace gate and weaved around to the throne room far off. The sheer number of them shocked all those who saw it. Sitting in your open-aired litter, you thought about how long it’d taken the physicians and priests to dress and prepare the bodies for burial. You’d written the declaration yourself, making sure to mention where and when the precession would be held so people may attend. After a few days, you’d learned dozens of people flooded in from all over the kingdom to see it. 

“Do you think relatives will be here, Your Majesty?” Saehee asked from behind you. 

Ever since becoming your handmaidens, she and the others no longer wore Sookmyung’s pure white hanbok. Today, they each wore pale green jackets with plain dark green skirts, the borders and ties white. The four of them spent hours getting you into the red, gold and black layers of your coronation dress. While you had the royal dragon seals on your sleeves and chest, they had the lovely floral patterns Sookmyung hated. Saehee stood beside the litter, the other handmaidens sitting in their own litter behind yours. 

 "I hope so," you replied a bit worriedly. 

 "I still highly recommend you stay inside, Your Majesty." 

 Saehee bowed right when Hongjoong appeared at your side. He climbed into the litter, and you couldn't help taking a moment to admire him. He wore a red hanbok like yours with his dragon seals on his shoulders and chest, a coronet of black on his head with nine beaded ridges held with a solid gold pin. Hongjoong looked like the king he was born to be, regal and sophisticated. How could one man be so beautiful? This was the man they wanted you to marry in a few days. 

"It leaves you out in the open," he continued. Saehee slipped away from your side when he arrived. "It would be a good chance for Sookmyung to strike."

You shifted uncomfortably. "I know," you replied, looking around at the crowds ahead of you, "But I wanted to be here. Wonshik believes it would be good for the people to see me before the coronation." 

"Wonshik has a lot of beliefs," he said bitterly, fixing his hanbok sleeves. 

 "You don't trust him?"

"I think he puts his trust in the wrong people. He had told me we could trust lords who were part of the coupe, but then they turned on us. If he had been more careful-"

"-He could not have known. Sookmyung likely threatened them into helping her if she couldn't bargain with them," you said. "That is how betrayal works."

"This is putting your life at risk-"

“-This is my choice," you defended. "This is something I have to do. I could not go on ruling without it."

"Which I understand, but YN…"

You reached for his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I appreciate your concern for my safety, " you told him, "But I have my guard. They were men you chose specifically. They won't let anything happen to me."

You remembered two days ago when Hongjoong gathered all the palace guards. He told them to swear their loyalty to you, before hand-picking your personal guard. San and Mingi stood amongst some of the guards you knew well, wearing the long red and white layers of the naegeumwi, your royal guard. 

“Hongjoong,” you said, “You know these men just as well as I do. Do you think that their loyalty is for sale?” He didn't answer, sitting stiffly. You could only smile at his reaction. “I also have you,” you nudged him, “From what I know, you aren't exactly a helpless kitten. I remember when Sookmyung wanted you all to demonstrate your martial skills to prove your strength and ability to defend her. You knocked Byungho off his feet, and he is one of our strongest.”

Cheeks tinged pink, he admitted, “I only did my best because I wanted to impress you.”

“Did you?”

“I had no intention of showing that monster what I could actually do, but then I saw she'd brought you with her,” he began. “I didn't want you to think I was weak or unskilled. I wanted you to see that if you needed me, I could protect you. That's all I've tried to do since we met.”

Butterflies swarmed in your stomach at his words. You recalled each time he intervened between you and Sookmyung, wanting to spare you abuse or embarrassment at her hands. He was not always successful, but you appreciated the times he had been. 

“I wish we had met a different way,” you confessed as the horns started sounding. 

“So do I,” he grinned softly. “I thought about it whenever I was alone. I would have come here as a diplomatic envoy for my father. I'd see you standing behind Sookmyung or maybe you'd be a princess now that…” he hid his blushing cheeks by turning his head. “It was something I pictured often.”

You turned your own head to hide your face. To know Hongjoong thought of you in ways outside of friendliness or concern made your butterflies flap harder. 

“I tried hard not to think of you,” you said quietly, playing with the gold ring on your finger. “It was silly but I worried if I thought of you too much, she'd somehow know and punish me for it.”

“Speaking as your betrothed,” he said, “You're free to think of me however you like now.”

The words gave you chills.

The litter passing through the palace gates, the world beyond remained silent. Solemn faces watched the bodies ride by them, more white flowers being tossed as they went past. The sadness filling the air penetrated your lungs, and your smile died. Once again, the number of dead shocked you. You saw the same shock come over people in the crowd, and your heart sank. The people of your city wore ragged clothing, their faces sunken and eyes devoid of joy. You had seen them beg Sookymung for help, for her wisdom and guidance and each time she ignored them. She passed them off to others to handle rather than do it herself. You imagined their suffering: toiling in their fields or shops, trying to keep themselves from the eyes of the corrupted city guards, being harrassed by criminals and being forced to pay high taxes. Parents watch their children suffer or die from starvation. You saw their faces poking out from between the adults, sullen and watching the procession. 

Your eyes stung. 

“YN?” 

“They're suffering…They're suffering and it's all her fault.”

She financed her lifestyle at the expense of her people. She reaped the benefits of their labor and gave them nothing in return. They struggled to get bread on the table while she greedily feasted in her room. 

“But that will change with you in charge,” he assured you. “You will be the queen she wished she could be.”

“Why did they wait until now?” you asked, locking eyes with an elderly man using a walking stick. He was skin and bones with very little hair left. “Why wait until our kingdom is completely shattered?”

“The same question I had.”

“She wasn't going to change. She has been that way her entire life. They watched her go off to war, conquer other lands, kill people by the dozens, and tear her kingdom apart. They knew she was arresting people on false or petty charges just to torture them. They…” your nose stung with the tears, and you sniffed it away.  "I can't fix this. This is too much, too expansive, and too deep. The problems Sookmyung created can't be undone so easily. A few law changes and reforms won't absolve the horrors that will stick with these people forever. "

"Healing takes time," he said, "Wounds don't heal overnight. Sookmyung kept these people living in fear for their lives. That is a trauma that will not disappear quickly, but when they see your kindness, it will start to heal those wounds."

"I'm only one woman."

"Which is why I'm here. That must be some comfort, no?" 

Your lips moved to speak, but a shrill cry broke the silence. Both of you gazed up ahead to see a woman come out from the crowd. Her hair tied back in a handkerchief, tears streamed down her pale cheeks and lips parted in trembling sobs. She held up a shaky hand to one of the wagons, and you saw the pain and sorrow on her face. 

 "Daesung!" she sobbed, "Daesung!" 

"Stop them," you said quietly, as if your words may disturb her. 

"San," Hongjoong called to him, "Stop the wagons."

San called out for the precession to pause, and everything stopped at once. You stepped down from the litter, ignoring the protests of the people around you and walked over to the crying woman. 

 "Daesung , Daesung…" 

"Was he your husband?" You asked her timidly. 

 "Yes," she wept, nodding and wiping her cheeks. "Queen Sookmyung had him arrested when he was poaching in her forest. He was only trying to feed his family!" She snapped angrily, "We were starving! My son was close to death! He only killed a rabbit! Just one, and she threw him into her dungeons!"

Yes, you remembered Daesung. A young man with hollow cheeks who'd hunted in Sookmyung's forest. The guards dragged him in after catching him with a rabbit hanging from his belt. When she saw him, Sookymung flew into one of her rages. She called him a thief and a traitor to The Crown and his country. As expected, his punishment was cruel, unusual and slow. You remembered doing the only thing you could for some: making their death as quick as possible. 

“He died alone,” she cried, “In those dark, damp cells.”

“He wasn't alone.”

“Hm?”

“I was there,” you admitted, taking a step forward. “Sookmyung made me watch her torture prisoners. She sometimes forced me to participate,” a ball formed in the base of your throat, tightening there and creating more tears. “I saw what she had done to your husband, and it was worse than what anyone might imagine. But, I stayed with him in his cell.” You vividly recalled the man’s final breaths, shallow and haggard from broken ribs. “I held his hand as he passed into the afterlife. I told him he wasn't alone. I told him,” you gulped, “That I wish there was more I could have done.” You looked at the people nearby, “A week ago, I was just as powerless as any of you. I believed I could not stand up to the injustices she forced on our people. I lived under her tyranny, letting her abuse my voice, my mind and…and my body…” this made some people gasp in surprise. “But I promise you, as your new queen, I will protect and defend each and every one of you, regardless of age or rank. I will make sure your bellies are full, your livestock are well and your crops prosper. I promise to give back that which has been denied you for so long. I…” you felt tears spill to your jaw, and you held your head up high, “I could not protect the people you see here, but I will make sure they are avenged. Sookmyung will pay for her crimes, every single one.”

You held back a sob. The guilt swirled in your chest, filling your insides and spilling out of you. You stared back at the people, making eye contact with every person you saw. Their suffering radiated off them. If you had only spoken up, their loved ones might still be alive. If you had not let fear overcome you, these people would not be in mourning. You let Sookmyung abuse whoever she liked out of your own self preservation, and the safety of your loved ones. The guilt screamed at the selfishness in your heart. Tears fell freely now, and it took someone holding you by your biceps to keep you still. 

“My boy!” 

“Oh, Soomi, my sweet girl!”

“There is Beomgyu, Mother! I see him there!”

It only took one person to bring them out of the woodwork. You stood by as floods of people broke through the barricade to reach their loved ones. Relatives climbed onto the different wagons, sobbing during their search. You wept, watching parents cry up to the heavens and children cling to the dead. This was Sookmyung’s doing, but you hadn't stopped it. 

“Your Majesty,” Mingi spoke again, his touch gentle but firm, “We must go to the temple.”

You didn’t want to go to the temple anymore. Why go to the temple when you can hunt down Sookmyung and make her pay for every wrongdoing? She could not be allowed to get away with this. Damn a trial. Damn proper protocols. She was too dangerous to be left alive. 

“Your Majesty-”

“-Your Majesty,” Seonghwa said softly in your ear, “YN…”

He turned you away from the mourners, and wiped your tears with a handkerchief. You didn't stop sobbing. Your mouth dried up and your throat ached but you could not stop. 

“This was my fault,” you said through your tears, “I let this happen.”

“There was nothing you could have done for them,” he replied gently. “Sookmyung is to blame for their suffering, not you.”

“I never stopped her. I didn't try hard enough.”

“Trying to stop Sookmyung from doing anything would be like trying to stop a storm.” He wiped more of your tears. “You did what you could for these people, and returning them to their families is the best you could.” He pushed a stray hair from your face, “Come to the temple. There is someone else we must pay respect to.”

King Siwon. Finally turning from the crowd, you returned to the litter where Hongjoong waited. The moment you sat down, you fell into his embrace. His head rested on yours, with his arms around your waist. You let your senses drown in him. Every face haunted you once again. Their screams drowned out Hongjoong’s soft-spoken words. The blood that splattered on your face felt hot, the stench of death came back to you and you nearly vomited again. Sookmyung had not lied to you that night. 

‘It’s a scent that never truly leaves you.’ 

Eyes landed on you as the march continued onwards. Hongjoong cleaned your cheeks again, whispering to you, but you couldn’t hear him. The cries of the mourners kept drawing your attention. You could not imagine the burrowing pain that created voids in their hearts. You watched a pair of twins sitting on either side of a pale, cold man on a bed of flowers. The girls cried almost in sync. One kept herself across his chest, foolishly praying  to hear his heartbeat while the other only held onto his hand with her smaller ones. A woman forced herself to walk beside the wagon, her sobs shattering hearts around her. His face was more than familiar. The baker couldn't afford to pay his taxes. 

Most of the wagons had reached the temple by the time you arrived. Dozens of people sat kneeling before the wood and stone temple atop a flight of white stone steps. A tall Buddha statue stood in the very middle of the large front area, water spewing from the spouts around the platform. People bowed with clasped hands, muttering prayers to themselves before standing upright. You stared at the temple with watery eyes. Deep within was King Siwon’s remains. He’d asked for the Royal Temple to be constructed nearby, so he may be close to his people even in death. Another sob broke your already aching throat. You won’t be half the ruler he was. If there was ever a person fit to lead others, it was King Siwon. 

Your father. 

Mingi and San helped you down from the litter, and you nearly lost your balance. You forced yourself to stand upright, hands clasped together under your sleeves, and walk with your guards. Not making a single sound, you walked past the grieving crowds to the temple steps. You knelt on the cushion Mingi placed down for you, and Hongjoong took his right next to yours. He might as well have not been there. Bowing your head, you clung to the folds of your skirt as you pictured him. A tall, broad man who always walked with his head up high came from the back of your mind. His crinkled smile used to bring warmth to your chest; recalling his deep voice and his hearty laugh that was once contagious. Now, only a cold sweat broke out over you. 

‘Why did you not tell me? Did you fear war so much that you’d separate a mother from her child? Sister from sister? Why did you not act when Sookmyung’s true nature showed itself? Was your pride that important? I’d never known you to be a prideful man before, Your Majesty. Your decision did not prevent a crisis, only delayed it. Your daughter destroyed the kingdom you worked so hard to uplift and improve. The people you cherished so dearly now live in poverty, struggling day to day to provide for their families. Your daughter promised to protect them, and she only beat them into submission with fear and pain. I’m not going to make your mistakes. I will stop her before she harms our people again.’ 

The sounding of a gong from inside rang four separate times. Every time Siwon showed you any favor came back to you. 

The time he let you sit on his lap as he showed you a map of Korea, explaining each territory to you. 

The time he sat you on his horse during a hunting trip when your feet started aching, right after telling Sookmyung that nobody sits atop a king’s horse. 

The gifts. The treats. All the shared smiles and laughter broke through your thoughts. Did he feel love when he saw you or regret? Guilt? Was it his way of apologizing for what he’d done? In his last moments, did he whisper for forgiveness? You didn’t know. He had already passed on when you were allowed to see him. You learned later that not many people saw him on his deathbed. These were questions nobody but Siwon could answer. 

It was his shaking that caught your attention. You looked over to see Hongjoong’s fists curled tightly into his coat. Your pain must be nothing compared to his. He’d watched his entire family die, brutally slaughtered before Sookmyung captured him. 

“...I couldn’t save you…” you heard him say to himself. 

You put your hand over one of his fists, not squeezing but gently resting. Fast, thick tears fell to his jaw, the droplets falling to his chest. You wondered then if he’d ever truly mourned his family. You had only seen their bloody, lifeless corpses: a woman with Hongjoong’s eyes and nose, a man with his skin tone and ears, a younger boy no older than sixteen, another only twelve and a little girl of ten. He must think of them each day. 

Soon, someone bid you to stand, but neither of you stood right away. It took Hongjoong several thick gulps, deep breaths and quickly wiped cheeks before he moved with you. He held his head up high, doing his best not to let the people around see his puffy eyes and trembling lips. You wished right then that the both of you went to Wonju, where his family was buried. Perhaps once this was over and Sookmyung was defeated, he could go. The other concubines could go to theirs as well. They can go wherever they wish. You looked ahead to see they’d followed behind in their own litter. Each of them knelt towards the back, tears and sobs shaking their shoulders. You did not interrupt them; you only walked ahead. 

It was Queen Jisoo who freely wept. Sitting with your mother, who also knelt, she held a hand to her mouth as she cried. Her husband. The love of her life. Other than your own parents, you’d never seen two people more in love than Jisoo and Siwon. They’d been betrothed: Jisoo was a noblewoman from Daegu, and Siwon was Crown Prince. She’d told you and Sookmyung that even though they were strangers at first, love blossomed between them over time. Siwon worshiped his wife, and she deeply cherished him. Sookmyung used to gag whenever her parents were together, but you’d always found it sweet. You remembered Jisoo’s catatonic state when he died. A piece of her had gone with him, and now is when she mourns it once again. 

“She would have loved you,” his cracked voice broke into your thoughts when you sat in the litter. 

“Hm?”

“My mother,” Hongjoong sniffled. “You two are very much alike. I think she would’ve approved our match. Ha, she might have even suggested it herself.” He smiled fondly, “Hyunmi would have loved you too. She was so sweet and friendly towards everyone. She kept telling our mother she wanted a sister. My mother used to say when one of her brothers married, she’d have a sister-in-law, which is just as good. It was her way of telling us she didn’t want any more children. I didn’t blame her. My youngest brother, Hojun, was a rascal. He loved to play pranks and liked telling jokes to the servants. He would’ve been an actor if he hadn’t been a prince,” he chuckled. The chuckle slowly then turned into another sob. Several minutes passed before he spoke again, “They had tried getting away. My father ordered them to go through the secret passages in the palace, which would’ve gotten them to safety, but we were betrayed. Someone told her about the passages. They were waiting for us by the exit. My brother, Beomjoong, and I killed a few of them but we were overpowered. We were young boys who’d never seen real combat. They were seasoned soldiers. They…” he squeezed his eyes shut tightly. 

“You don’t need to tell me the rest,” you told him, sliding closer and grabbing a handkerchief. “I know.” 

“I’m not letting that happen again,” he told you, his resolve turning firm. “I couldn’t protect them, but I will protect you, YN,” he cupped your cheek, not bothered by those noticing the affectionate touch. “Nobody will harm you as long as my heart still beats.” 

Then he kissed you. Not the chaste, light kind Sookmyung sometimes gave when she wanted to shock you. His lips sealed gently over your own, warm and salty from tears, and gave soft pecks at first. Then, cupping your chin, he deepened it little by little until your mouth opened for him. The foreign feeling of his tongue gently brushing yours warmed your insides. Never had anyone kissed you this way. His hand slid from your chin to your jaw, where he held you as it continued. Several days might have passed by the little world of Hongjoong’s lips. Your hand touched his wrist, not to pull away but simply hold a piece of him. 

“Um,” he breathed, forehead pressed to yours, “I’m-I’m…Forgive me, Your Majesty. I didn’t mean to do it here.” He said this, yet did not move away from you. “I’d planned on this being somewhere a bit more private.” 

You both giggled, “The Queen and Advisor Wonshik will likely be thrilled by this open display of affection,” you noted, already hearing it from them later. “They’ll probably say it’s a showing of our union and that I am a person capable of love.”

“You don’t need me to prove that,” he said, pecking your lips. “But please, continue to drive the idea into people.”

Kissing Hongjoong pushed out every face from your mind. Their painful screams could not reach you through his soft sighs, or through the faint peach blossom coming from his skin. You let him overcome your senses as he kissed you once more. The two of you only pulled away when the litter stopped and someone coughed. You looked to see San standing at your side, waiting for you to step out. Cheeks burning, you let him help you out and tried not meeting his eyes. 

You suddenly became aware of the people watching you. The nobility of Hanseong bowed as you passed them on your way to the throne hall. The haze Hongjoong’s kisses left behind slowly faded while you walked. The litter had stopped right at the steps, where someone rolled out a long carpet for you to walk on. Your eyes looked up to the decorative ceiling above, and saw the mural the old kings of Hanseong painted. Your ancestors, who’d shaped Korea into the kingdom it is now, likely never imagined a problem like this. 

Siwon told you of King Han Seojun, the First King. He came to Korea from the south, looking for a settlement for his displaced people. He led them to new lands, building a home and writing their names on the earth. He helped build the very palace you stood in now. 

King Han Sindae, the Reconciler. He’d brought the kingdom of Korea from separate factions into one united nation. He’d used his diplomatic skills to settle disputes between the families through marriage pacts, alliance agreements, and even sometimes force. 

King Bongsang, the Warrior King. Siwon told you he’d been the first king to go into battles himself, leading his men to victory or death. Not for glory, he’d explained, but because he believed a ruler should do what was necessary for their subjects. When invaders from the north threatened his kingdom, he didn’t hesitate to strike. He showed bravery in the face of his enemies, and became the shield his people needed. 

You’d never be a ruler like them. You might have learned at Sookmyung’s side, but you aren’t fit for the title of ‘Queen’. For a brief moment, you considered running away from this. You did not have to accept it. Yet, you knew that doing that would make Sookmyung’s return easier. If she returned, her revenge would be slow and painful for everyone. You couldn’t let that happen again. 

“The Queen is entering!” A man called as a group played horns, drums and cymbals behind him. 

You did not lower your head this time. The music continued as you walked down the aisle passed lords and ladies, all of them bowing to you. Sookmyung always soaked in the pride this gave her. You could only feel the nerves bubbling in your stomach. You’d give anything to be back in the litter with Hongjoong. 

You walked to the throne, and finally saw the largest change in the room. The ostentatious, disrespectful work Sookmyung did to her father’s throne had disappeared. The Phoenix Throne, as it was called for centuries, had been restored to its former appearance: a red wooden chair with its gold cushions, the dragons of royalty carved into the sides of it, and the tall sun and moon screen behind the back. You remembered the time you scraped your knee running across the throne room, and he’d sat you in his throne to tend to your injury. Had he done that to see what you looked like on the throne instead of Sookmyung? 

On both sides of the throne sat the Royal Advisors and Queen Jisoo. They all stood up from their seats as you reached the steps. It was Jisoo who held a golden crown on a velvet cushion on her lap. Made of pure gold, the small jade stones stuck out against the branch-like stalks, with two antlers dripping with more gems at the very front. Sookmyung hated the official queen’s crown. She said it hurt her neck, and it was too tall. You’d always thought it was beautiful, even now when it seemed so intimidating. You reached her seat, and knelt on the cushion in front of her. 

Jisoo said nothing as she placed the crown on your head. It did weigh, but you remembered what Siwon once said when you asked if his crown was heavy. 

‘Yes, with responsibility.’ 

Sookmyung shirked from her responsibilities. You would not. Even if you didn’t feel up to the task, you would try. 

Then, you felt something shift in front of you. Jisoo, despite her aching joints and sickness, shakily stood from her wheelchair. Your mother rushed to aid her, but Jisoo subtly waved her away. Jaws dropped and you heard a soft murmur waved through the crowd as she stood to her full height. You worried she may fall over, but she remained strong. She stood upright, head raised, as she spoke. 

“All hail, Han YN, Queen of Korea and Lady of Hanseong!” she called to the room, her voice bouncing off the walls. “May her reign be long and prosperous! All hail The Queen!”

“All hail The Queen! All hail The Queen!”

The words struck you straight in the chest. Jisoo carefully sat back down while you rose from your cushion. On your own, you walked up the steps to the throne and stood before it. In your robes of red, black and gold, the crown glittering in the morning light, you tentatively sat on the wooden throne. The world looked different from the actual seat. Right when you sat down, the crowd fell silent. You saw Hongjoong standing nearby, eyes glittering with tears. To think only moments ago, you’d been kissing him. Now, in a few days, you’ll be sitting here again with him at your side. 

The crowd continued their cheering a bit longer before falling silent. Then, one by one, Wonshik called the lords and ladies of the land up by name. Each one got to one knee, swore their allegiance and fealty to you, which you granted and thanked them for as Jisoo instructed beforehand. When they finished with nobility, military officials and guards did the same. Everyone seemed eager to show their allegiance to the new queen. A voice spoke to you in the back of your mind. 

‘Words mean nothing. A bit of gold with the promise of land and power can sway anyone.’ 

The ceremony was over before anything truly sunk in for you. As you stepped down from the throne, the gravity of the moment sunk down to your feet. Neither handmaiden nor princess, you held the title of ‘Queen’, and you knew that would anger Sookmyung. 

You feared what might come from that. 

****

‘Beomjoong, run!’

‘I won't leave you!’

‘I said ‘go'!’

He recalled his brother's determined face in the half light of the hidden passage. Hongjoong still felt the humidity on his skin, the only rush of air coming from the small cove beneath the palace. He saw the little row boat that would carry him and his brother to safety. It had been too late to save his youngest brother and sister, but Beomjoong was alive. The guards who'd been with them fell at the enemy's swiftness. It was only the two princes. He'd told Beomjoong to run when the men closed in on them. He'd hold them off while his brother escaped. That didn't happen. 

Beomjoong's bloody face and clothes remained a permanent image in his mind. Little Hojun and Hyunmi went first, being slaughtered right beside their parents. Hongjoong tried. He'd struggled against the men holding him, begging Sookmyung to spare them with tearful eyes. She only returned them with harsh coldness. 

“She's going to be a wonderful queen,” he overheard Wonshik tell Seonghwa as they left the throne room. “The people will see she is the ruler we need soon enough.”

Yes, you would be. Even if you didn't fully believe in yourself, Hongjoong knew your reign would be historical. Your declaration of justice surprised many people, their eyebrows raised as they exchanged glances. He'd never known the true extent of Sookmyung’s crimes until today when he saw the bodies. Those who managed to leave with their lives would never be whole either. They deserved justice for what she'd done to them. It wouldn't erase the horror, but it'd begin to heal the soul. The people must see that if you are going to do what you can to help them. He'd be right beside you. 

“Didn't she do well today, Your Grace?” 

Queen Jisoo came up beside him in her wheelchair. He'll admit seeing her rise from her chair shocked him. Sookmyung always made it seem as if she'd never stand again. He saw the toll those few minutes took by the tiredness in her eyes. He knew why she'd done it, but he couldn’t help pitying her. 

“Yes, she did,” he nodded in agreement. Hongjoong knew what she came to discuss with him. 

“I saw you both in the litter on the way back. You two seem to be warming up to one another. Though, I wish you had been more discreet.”

Hongjoong hid his blushing ears again. He hadn't meant to kiss you so brazenly. He originally planned on doing it much later in the garden or a quiet room away from others. Not to take advantage of you, but to express his feelings for you in a private place. Yet, seeing you there next to him, puffy eyed and sniveling, he wanted to comfort you. He wanted to kiss away every tear and chase away the dark clouds filling your head. Hongjoong hoped he and Seonghwa would be the candles lighting your way in darkness; the comfort you seek after a tiresome day. He needed you to know he would be at your side no matter what happened next. 

“The people should see their future monarchs in a warm light,” he excused. “It will show them that this is a love match and not a cold political one.”

His parents had been a love match. His father told him how they met. She had been a seamstress's apprentice, and often visited the palace with her mentor. She had fallen for him first, but he'd fallen harder. They had told Hongjoong he could marry whoever he wished, regardless of birth. He wanted to marry you, and he sensed you wanted it too. 

“Is it a love match?” she asked, smiling knowingly at him. “Will Seonghwa also be involved in this match?”

He whipped his head over to her as they reached the palanquin to the garden. 

“I know about you two,” she said before he could speak. "Sookmyung told me about how she'd make you 'perform' in front of her."

 Hongjoong hated how she made it sound. The words sounded wrong and perverse coming from her. He wasn't entirely innocent when he arrived at the palace. He knew men could be with men and women could be with women. Hongjoong kissed a stableboy or two back home. Yet, those times had been consenting. He'd known and liked the person he kissed. When Sookmyung pushed him to have sex with Seonghwa, finding amusement in making them uncomfortable, it had been awkward and stiff. It felt that way each time. It had been after a harvest festival celebration where they kissed on their own. Hongjoong thought of Seonghwa's plush lips sealing over his, tasting of mint and wine. The kiss blossomed something deep inside him; it placed a seed in the dead soil of his heart. A silver lining in the black cloak hanging over his life.

 "She can't be seen having two lovers," Jisoo continued after his silence. "People may start making comparisons between her and Sookmyung, and we can't have that. They need to see she is the exact opposite. I implore you to-"

 "-I think you underestimate how discrete we can be," he cut her off. "Nobody knows the things that went on in the garden. It will stay that way. Besides, she might not want that. She isn't Sookmyung."

 The group reached the entry gate of the queen's residences. Hongjoong's brow furrowed, and he left his palanquin to speak with San. 

 "San, why are we here? She was going back to the garden."

 "Advisor Wonshik told her returning to the harem might give off the wrong impression."

 "Sookmyung knows this place inside and out," he retorted. "She can easily slip in here and slit YN's throat."

 "She will have us with her," San said, nodding to Mingi who was helping you climb out of your own palanquin. "She'll be safe. People will talk if they see her going in there. "

 He watched you walk into the residence on shaky legs. Hongjoong moved to follow before someone grabbed his arm. 

 "Don't," Seonghwa's deep voice said in his ear. "Her image matters more than ever right now, and her being with any of us might give people the wrong impression."

Deep down, Hongjoong knew they were all right. Once you're both married, things will be different but not now. Betrothed couples aren't allowed to be alone, so that alone might raise eyebrows. If there was one thing Hongjoong hated about court was the hypocrisy. The same people who stare down their noses at the behavior are the ones who indulge in it the most. Sookmyung did it because she didn't care, but he knew you would. 

"Keep an eye out," he told San, who nodded. "Put a guard near the bedroom, and another outside the sitting room. There are secret passages there. She could use one of them if she somehow gets into the palace."

Hongjoong spent a good amount of time with Junhwan, captain of the guard, about strengthening the palace security until Sookmyung is caught. He waited for you to disappear past the door before getting back into his palanquin. You have Mingi and San watching over you. You will be fine. You will be safe.

****

A/N: I'm so sorry these updates are so slow :( I really do want to finish this fic since I know so many of you guys are waiting on it. I know this was pretty angst heavy but I hope you still liked it <3

[cheolsbitch]

“Don’t Look”

Pairing: Jaehyun x Reader

Genre: Smut | Best Friends to Lovers | Secret Relationship | Slow Burn (turned fast & filthy) (Not proof read)

Word Count: (forgot to do the count ngl)

Status: Ongoing one-shot continuation (maybe)

Content Warnings: (MINORS DNI)

• Sexual tension and explicit sexual content (slow-burn smut)

• Voyeurism elements (accidental and intentional watching)

• Light degradation and praise (eventually)

• Friends-to-lovers tension with emotionally messy moments

• Masturbation (mutual and solo)

• Unspoken feelings, jealousy, possessiveness

• Eventual explicit consent and sexual exploration

Summary:

What started as innocent teasing between childhood best friends has spiraled into something much more dangerous — and addicting. Late-night games, stolen glances, and one risqué manga opened the door, but now? Jaehyun owns her — her body, her sounds, her limits. The only problem? No one else knows they’ve crossed that line.

From stolen touches in crowded rooms to being bent over bathroom stalls, their secret grows harder to hide… and harder to resist. He was supposed to be her best friend. Now he’s her favorite mistake — and he’s not letting anyone else have a taste.

But teasing Jaehyun has its consequences… especially when she moans his name while thinking of someone else. (lil teaser🫣)

This is the full fic to the “don’t look” teaser didn’t expect to actually get people to like it i hope this will story satisfy yall… idk how to feel about it just know that it is STEAMY

The sound of rapid clicking and muffled gunshots filled the air, blending with the occasional curse that left Jaehyun’s lips as he focused on the game. Y/N barely paid him any mind, curled up on his bed with her legs swinging lazily in the air, a well-worn manga volume in her hands.

It was a regular thing — crashing at Jaehyun’s place after classes, him glued to his monitor while she raided his snack stash and made herself at home in his room. They didn’t need to talk to feel comfortable. That’s just how they were. Easy. Familiar.

At least… usually.

Today was different.

Jaehyun had taken off his headset to answer a call, wandering out of the room mid-game. When he came back, the first thing he saw wasn’t the screen. It was Y/N, lying on her stomach on his bed, skirt hiked up just a little too high, and her eyes glued to a page that definitely wasn’t PG-13.

He blinked. Then blinked again.

Was she seriously reading that kind of manga? In his room?

He moved closer, quiet as ever, leaning over to glance at the page. Yup. That was definitely someone getting bent over a desk.

His voice came out lower than intended, a little too amused. “What are you reading?”

Y/N nearly jumped out of her skin. She snapped the book shut with a gasp and turned over, clutching it to her chest.

“W-What the hell, Jaehyun! Don’t sneak up on people like that!”

“I wasn’t sneaking,” he grinned, walking over and tossing himself onto the bed beside her. “You were just too into it to notice me.”

She narrowed her eyes, cheeks flushed. “You saw nothing.”

“Oh no, I definitely saw something. A lot of something, actually.” He smirked, eyes drifting — not-so-subtly — from the manga to her exposed thighs. “Didn’t know you were into that stuff.”

She threw a pillow at him. “Shut up! It’s just—plot. With… extra.”

“Mhmm.” He leaned in, voice dipping to a tease. “Didn’t know my bed was so inspiring.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, trying to cover the blush blooming down her neck. “You’re such an ass.”

“Maybe.” His fingers brushed her knee, lingering longer than they should. “But you’re not denying it.”

Silence hung for a beat too long. The tension wasn’t like usual. It wasn’t playful — not entirely. There was heat in the air, thick and humming between them.

His voice dropped. “You know, if you wanted inspiration… you could’ve just asked.”

She stared at him, heart pounding.

“You’re joking.”

His eyes flicked down to her lips, then back up. “Am I?”

Another beat passed. Her book slipped from her hands, forgotten.

And then—

Y/N didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

She couldn’t. Not with the way Jaehyun was looking at her — like he’d just flipped a switch and wasn’t planning to turn it off anytime soon.

Her voice was barely a whisper. “You’re not serious.”

Jaehyun smirked again, slower this time. Darker. His hand, still resting lightly on her knee, started to move. Not rushed, just deliberate — dragging up the soft skin of her thigh, under the hem of her skirt. “You think I’m the kind of guy who says things he doesn’t mean?”

She swallowed hard. “Sometimes.”

“Not about this.”

He leaned closer, one knee sliding between her legs as he crowded her space. She could feel the heat of his body, the tension in his muscles — held back, barely. His fingers brushed higher now, just skimming where her inner thigh met the curve of her underwear. Her breath hitched.

“You’ve been teasing me for months and didn’t even know it,” he murmured, voice low, like a secret just for her. “Walking around in those short skirts, curling up in my bed like it’s yours, making these little sounds when you read your dirty books.”

“I—I wasn’t teasing”

He chuckled, dark and low, thumb hooking under the edge of her panties now. “No? Then what are you doing now, letting me touch you like this and not stopping me?”

She couldn’t answer. Not with the way her pulse was racing. Not with the way his mouth was hovering, close enough that she could feel every word ghost over her lips.

“Say something, baby.”

That broke her. She shivered — not from fear, but from the way he said it. Like he owned the word. Like he already owned her.

“I want you,” she whispered, cheeks burning. “I just… I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

His eyes darkened — not in mockery, but something deeper. Fiercer. Possessive.

“I’ll take care of you”

And with that, he kissed her.

It wasn’t sweet. It was slow, claiming, full of intent. His tongue slid past her lips, coaxing rather than demanding, but still leaving no room for doubt. His hand moved behind her neck, tilting her to deepen the kiss while his other pushed her skirt up fully, baring her to the cool air and his warm touch.

She moaned into him — soft, unsure. He swallowed the sound greedily.

“You trust me?” he murmured against her lips, fingers now stroking the damp cotton between her legs.

“Yes,” she breathed, hips twitching into his hand.

“Then be a good girl,” he said, voice pure sin, “and let me show you how good it can feel.”

He pulled her underwear down slowly, trailing kisses from her mouth to her jaw, then down her neck, teeth scraping lightly as he went. “Keep your hands in my sheets,” he ordered, eyes flicking up. “Don’t hide from me.”

She did as he said, fingers curling into his navy-blue comforter, breath coming faster as he shifted lower. He settled between her thighs like he belonged there, dragging his mouth over the inside of her knee before looking up at her — eyes burning.

“Don’t look away,” he said softly, almost tender. “I want you to watch me when I make you fall apart.”

And then his mouth was on her.

Hot. Wet. Expert.

She gasped, arching, one hand flying to her mouth only for him to pull back and growl, “Hands. In. The. Sheets.”

She obeyed, whimpering when he dove back in, licking and sucking her clit with slow, devastating precision. He took his time, letting her fall apart inch by inch, building the tension until she was trembling, thighs threatening to close around his head.

“Jaehyun,” she sobbed, nearly there.

“Come for me,” he whispered, lips brushing her clit with the words. “Right now. Be good and come on my tongue.”

She shattered.

She came with a cry, thighs shaking, hips bucking into his mouth as he held her down and took everything she gave him.

Only when she stopped trembling did he pull back, lips glistening, eyes dark with something dangerous.

And he still wasn’t done.

“Now,” he said, tugging his shirt over his head and revealing the body she’d only ever dared to imagine, “you’re gonna lie back like that sweet little mess you are—” he undid his belt slowly, letting the sound echo in the room, “and take your reward like a good girl.”

Y/N’s breath was still catching in her throat when she watched Jaehyun rise above her — slow and steady, like he had all the time in the world. His eyes never left hers. Not even as he kicked off his jeans, fingers moving with that same calm confidence that was driving her absolutely insane.

She’d never seen him like this. Not fully.

Not like this — shirtless, flushed, cock hard and heavy in his hand as he stroked it lazily while looking down at her like she was something to be worshipped.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, crawling over her. His fingers traced the outline of her face, brushing hair from her cheek like she was fragile. “You—like this. Under me.”

She bit her lip, heart thudding. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

His smile was soft now, almost sad. “Because you were mine long before you ever knew it. And I wasn’t gonna risk losing you… not until I knew you wanted this too.”

She didn’t answer. Just reached up, touching his cheek, then trailing her fingers down his chest, the tight muscles flexing beneath her touch.

“I do,” she whispered. “I want you.”

That was all he needed.

Jaehyun leaned down and kissed her again — this time slower. Deeper. All tongue and warmth, his body lowering to press fully against hers, skin to skin. She could feel everything: his heat, the weight of him, the way his cock slid against her slick folds, not yet inside but enough to make her whimper.

His hand found hers beside her head, fingers lacing together. “You ready, baby?”

She nodded, voice gone.

“Words.”

“Yes,” she breathed. “I’m ready. Please.”

His groan was low, strained. “Fuck. You’re gonna feel so good.”

And then — slowly, carefully — he pushed in.

The stretch was unfamiliar, thick and hot and so much, but he didn’t rush. He kissed her through it, whispered against her skin, his free hand stroking her thigh as he sank in inch by inch.

“That’s it,” he murmured, lips brushing her temple. “Just breathe. You’re doing so good.”

She clung to him, eyes wide, overwhelmed in the best way as he finally bottomed out, buried to the hilt and panting against her neck.

“God, you’re tight,” he growled, stilling for a moment. “I’m not gonna last long if you keep clenching like that.”

“Move,” she gasped. “Please, Jae”

He did.

His hips pulled back and rolled forward again, slow and smooth, grinding into her with a rhythm that made her toes curl. Every thrust was measured, sensual, like he wanted her to feel every single inch of him — and she did. Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, trying to pull him deeper, closer, more.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, biting down on her shoulder. “You take me so well. Like you were made for this. Made for me.”

She couldn’t hold back the moan that tore from her throat.

Jaehyun caught it with a kiss, swallowing the sound as he picked up pace, just a little. The bed creaked, the air thick with heat and breath and the slick sounds of skin on skin.

But through it all, he kept touching her — his hand on her cheek, his mouth on her throat, like he couldn’t get enough of her. Like this wasn’t just sex. Like it was something more.

“You feel everything?” he panted against her skin.

She nodded desperately. “Feels so good… you feel so good…”

“I’ve got you,” he said, voice wrecked but still soft. “I’ll take care of you. Gonna make you come again, alright?”

His thumb found her clit, rubbing in tight circles while he drove into her, each thrust making her cry out.

“Let go for me,” he groaned, forehead pressed to hers. “Come all over my cock like a good girl.”

She shattered with a scream, legs locking around him as her orgasm ripped through her. Jaehyun followed with a curse, hips stuttering as he came deep inside her, holding her close like he never wanted to let go.

And when it was over — when the room was filled with only the sound of their breathing and the soft thump of his heartbeat against her chest — he kissed her again.

This time, it was gentle. Loving.

“I meant what I said,” he whispered, brushing his nose against hers. “You’re mine.”

Her fingers curled in his hair, a lazy smile spreading across her lips.

“Good,” she whispered. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Jaehyun didn’t pull away right away. He stayed inside her, warm and pulsing, forehead resting against hers while his fingers lazily traced the curve of her hip. His breath was still heavy, but his touch was gentle — grounding. Worshipful.

Y/N’s legs were still wrapped loosely around him, and even though her body was spent, she didn’t want to let go.

“Was it too much?” he asked softly, eyes searching hers like he hadn’t just made her see stars.

She smiled, tired and blissed out. “No… it was perfect.”

He kissed her nose, then her cheek, then finally her lips again — slow and sweet this time, no urgency. Just affection.

“I’ll get you cleaned up,” he murmured, carefully slipping out of her. She whimpered at the loss, and he chuckled, low and fond. “I know, baby. I’ll be right back.”

True to his word, he returned with a warm cloth, cleaning her up gently, murmuring quiet praises and brushing hair from her forehead.

“So pretty when you’re all fucked out,” he teased, but his touch was careful, his eyes soft. Once she was tucked into his sheets — now officially hers too — he pulled her into his chest and stroked her back.

“You did so good,” he whispered. “I’ve never wanted someone like I want you.”

She blinked up at him sleepily. “I’ve never let anyone in like this before…”

Jaehyun leaned down and kissed her again, just because he could.

“You’re mine now,” he said, half-possessive, half-promise.

She fell asleep with her head on his chest, heart full and body aching in the best way.

⸻

THE NEXT MORNING

Y/N was deep in sleep, limbs tangled in Jaehyun’s sheets, when she felt something warm and firm press against the back of her thigh.

At first, she stirred faintly, breath hitching as the sensation grew — the softest kisses trailing up her spine, teeth nipping at her shoulder, a hand sliding under the hem of his oversized shirt she wore to bed.

“Morning, baby,” Jaehyun’s voice rasped against her skin, already thick with lust. “You looked too pretty not to touch.”

She whined in protest — half asleep, half already aching. “Jae…”

“You gonna pretend you don’t like it?” he murmured, hand sliding between her legs. She was already wet, and he groaned in satisfaction. “Damn. You were dreaming about me, weren’t you?”

“Mmm… maybe,” she teased, wiggling her hips a little.

His grip tightened slightly. “That attitude’s gonna get you in trouble.”

“Oh no,” she said innocently. “Whatever will you do?”

His hand slid around her throat — not tight, just firm, grounding, possessive — and she gasped at the sudden rush it gave her. Her thighs squeezed together, and Jaehyun noticed instantly.

“Oh?” he grinned, low and wicked. “You like being choked, baby?”

She bit her lip but didn’t answer.

“That was a yes,” he muttered, flipping her onto her back, spreading her thighs. “You should’ve told me. I’d’ve had you crying in pleasure last night.”

His hand stayed at her throat, still gentle, still careful — but undeniably dominant as he slid inside her again, this time with more force. More hunger.

She cried out, hands flying to his biceps, nails digging in.

“Still sore?” he panted, driving into her deeper. “Too bad. You’re the one who woke up wet and bratty.”

“You’re such—ah—an ass.”

He smirked. “Yeah? Then why are you moaning like that?”

He grabbed her thighs and pinned them open, his pace picking up — steady but rougher, his abs flexing as he fucked her into the mattress, groaning every time she clenched around him.

“You want it harder, don’t you?” he breathed against her mouth. “Want me to ruin this sweet little pussy again?”

“Yes—fuck—Jaehyun…”

“Touch yourself,” he ordered. “Be a good girl. Let me see.”

Her fingers found her clit instantly, circling as he pounded into her harder, more unrestrained now. He was still watching her, though — eyes glued to her face, hand tight around her throat again, thumb brushing her jaw.

“You gonna come for me like this?” he growled. “Choked and used and full of me?”

She nodded, eyes rolling back. “Jaehyun—I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he demanded. “Come now.”

She shattered under him with a scream, clenching around him like a vice — and he followed with a loud groan, spilling inside her again, thrusts slowing as he milked every second of her orgasm.

When it was over, he collapsed on top of her, then rolled them gently so she was cradled against him again.

“You’re gonna kill me,” she breathed.

He chuckled against her hair. “You say that like I’m done with you.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, a lazy smile on her lips.

She was absolutely ruined. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

The room was thick with heat, the air heavy from everything they’d already done — the tangled sheets, their sweat-slicked bodies, the faint scent of sex still clinging to the air.

Jaehyun was lying back against the pillows now, one arm behind his head, the other lazily brushing along her spine as she rested on his chest, both of them trying to catch their breath. He looked smug. Satisfied. Like a man who’d just conquered something sweet and sacred.

But she wasn’t done.

Y/N lifted her head, eyes dark with mischief and still-flushed cheeks. She trailed her hand down his abs, letting her fingers drift lower, nails teasing just above where the blanket covered his hips.

Jaehyun groaned, low and surprised. “No way. You’re not seriously ready for more.”

She straddled him without a word, sliding up until she was seated right over him, warm and wet and barely hidden by the thin sheet between them. Her hands braced on his chest as she leaned down.

“I wanna ride you,” she whispered against his lips.

Jaehyun’s breath caught. His eyes snapped open, pupils blown wide. “Fuck. Are you even real?”

She grinned and rocked her hips slightly, feeling him twitch beneath her. “You’re not scared I’ll break you, are you?”

“Scared?” He growled, yanking the sheet away so she was bare above him. “I’m scared you’re gonna pass out. You were crying into my mouth ten minutes ago.”

“Let me show you what I want,” she said, grinding harder now. “Please.”

That word — that please — did something to him.

He watched her sit up, take him in her hand, and line him up with her entrance. The head of his cock slid against her soaked folds, and they both groaned at the contact. Then, slowly, so fucking slowly, she sank down on him.

Jaehyun’s head hit the headboard with a dull thud.

“Holy shit,” he hissed. “You feel even tighter like this.”

Her hands gripped his stomach for balance as she started to move, hips rising and falling in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. Her thighs trembled slightly, but she kept going, riding him with a mix of inexperience and raw, aching need.

And he watched her — eyes locked on the way her breasts bounced, the way her lips parted in moans, the way her nails clawed at his chest as she found the pace that made her see stars.

“Look at you,” he rasped. “Taking what you want. Fucking yourself on my cock like you need it.”

“I do,” she gasped. “You feel so good, Jaehyun—fuck—don’t stop looking at me.”

“Never,” he promised, hands finding her hips, helping her grind deeper, harder, until the sounds of wet skin and broken cries echoed in the room. “You’re so fucking sexy like this. Like you were made to ride me.”

She moaned louder, pace faltering as her legs began to tremble harder. She leaned forward, bracing herself on his chest, thighs burning, every inch of her buzzing with overstimulation.

Jaehyun saw it — saw her trying to hold on, trying to stay in control — and smirked darkly.

“Getting tired already, baby?”

She bit her lip, nodded just slightly, eyes glassy.

He sat up in one smooth motion, flipping her effortlessly onto the bed and pulling her onto all fours.

“You shouldn’t have tempted me,” he growled, lining himself up behind her. “You knew what this was gonna do to me.”

She barely had time to breathe before he slammed into her from behind — hard, fast, deep — the new angle making her scream into the pillow. He gripped her hips like he owned her, driving into her relentlessly, the bed frame rocking under the force of it.

“F-fuck—Jaehyun—too much—”

“No,” he gritted, bending down to kiss her spine, his hand tangling in her hair. “You wanted to ride me? You wanted to show me what you like? Then take it.”

He yanked her head back gently by her hair, just enough to make her arch. Her back curved perfectly, ass pressed against his hips with every thrust, and he groaned at the sight of it.

“You look so fucking good like this,” he growled, hot against her ear. “You like being used like my personal toy, huh? Getting fucked stupid first thing in the morning?”

She couldn’t answer. Not with the way he was splitting her open, dragging her closer and closer to the edge again. But her whimpers said it all.

Then, suddenly, his chest pressed to her back. One arm wrapped around her waist, the other came up to press gently around her throat — firm, confident, perfect. His lips were at her ear now, whispering filth as he fucked up into her, angle deep and brutal in the most intoxicating way.

“Can feel you tightening,” he whispered, voice ragged. “You gonna come like this? With me choking you? Huh, baby?”

She sobbed, nodding, body jolting with every thrust.

“Do it,” he growled, slamming into her one final time. “Come for me like the good little slut you are.”

She came hard — harder than she had the first time — shaking in his arms, muscles locking up as her climax hit like a wave. Jaehyun wasn’t far behind. He grunted against her neck, hips jerking as he spilled inside her again, holding her close through the aftershocks.

They collapsed together, sweaty, tangled, completely wrecked.

He kissed her shoulder, her jaw, her temple.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered. “You were not kidding about round two.”

She laughed breathlessly, collapsing onto her back. “You look ruined.”

“I am,” he groaned, flopping beside her. “You ride me like that again and I’m gonna have to put a ring on you.”

She turned, smirking. “So… round three?”

He blinked.

Then grinned.

“Oh, you’re in trouble.”

“Let’s go get cleaned up Jae, i feel super dirty” she says

All he can think about is what he’ll do to her in the shower

“Anything you want princess, but don’t think i’m done with you yet.”

SHOWER SCENE

Steam had already filled the bathroom by the time Jaehyun dragged her in, lips locked to hers like he couldn’t bear to part for even a second. His hands were on her ass, squeezing, guiding her backwards toward the hot spray as their bodies pressed together.

The second the water hit her back, she gasped — warm and soothing, a perfect contrast to the sharp ache still lingering between her legs from earlier. But Jaehyun wasn’t giving her a break.

His mouth dropped to her throat, sucking a bruise into her skin while his hands slid down her slick body, worshipping every curve like he hadn’t just fucked her senseless.

“You’re unreal,” he muttered into her neck. “I get you off twice, and you’re still looking at me like you want more.”

“I do want more,” she whispered back, fingers curling into his damp hair.

He growled, spinning her and pressing her front to the fogged-up glass wall, hands spreading her legs apart. The hot water ran down her body, pooling between her thighs — and then she felt him again, thick and heavy, sliding against her already-sensitive core.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. “Still so wet for me. You want it here? Against the glass?”

“Y-yeah,” she panted. “Want you to fuck me, Jaehyun—just fuck me.”

He slid in without warning — hot, deep, and thick — and she nearly screamed from how sensitive she still was. The glass rattled with each thrust as he buried himself inside her over and over, pace rough but controlled, one hand gripping her hip, the other wrapped tight around her throat.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he panted. “Even after everything, you still suck me in like it’s your first time.”

Her legs shook, breath fogging the glass.

He leaned in, lips brushing her ear. “Say my name.”

She moaned, voice cracking. “D-Daddy—!”

Everything stopped.

Jaehyun froze mid-thrust, his whole body going still behind her. For a second, all they could hear was the pounding of the water and her own ragged breathing.

Then he twitched inside her — hard.

“W-Wait,” she gasped, panicking. “I didn’t mean—! I mean, I—shit, I didn’t know it would just come out—”

He laughed.

Low. Dark. Dangerous.

“You didn’t know?” he repeated, pulling out of her slowly, then turning her to face him. His hands slid down to grab her ass, hard. “Princess, you could’ve called me that ages ago.”

Her eyes widened as he pushed her back against the tiled wall, gripping her thigh and hiking it up over his hip.

“You like that shit, huh?” he murmured, dragging the head of his cock through her folds again. “Calling me ‘Daddy’ while I fuck you dumb? You dirty little thing.”

She whimpered, already melting.

“Say it again.”

She looked up at him, lips trembling. “Daddy…”

He groaned and slammed into her in one rough stroke, hand coming down on her ass with a loud smack. The sound echoed off the tile, mixing with her gasp as he started thrusting hard — deeper than before, the slap of skin on skin bouncing off the shower walls.

“That’s my girl,” he growled. “Fucking take it.”

She clung to him, the rhythm brutal but addicting — loud, wet, and desperate. His hand gripped her throat again, squeezing just enough to make her moan louder, and his other hand delivered another hard spank to her ass, making her jolt.

“Such a good little slut,” he hissed. “Taking your daddy’s cock like this.”

“Y-You’re so full of yourself,” she managed to choke out, even as her moans stuttered with every hard thrust. “Bet you say that to all your little brats.”

He laughed — low and wrecked. “You’re lucky I like that mouth.”

Another slap. Another choke. Another deep thrust that made her legs shake.

“You keep acting like a brat,” he murmured, licking up her neck, “and I’ll bend you over the sink next.”

She grinned through her moans, breathless. “You say that like it’s a threat.”

Jaehyun snapped.

He lifted her effortlessly, pinning her against the wall with his body and pounding up into her — hard, sloppy, loud. The water only added to the sound, the slick slide of his cock inside her driving them both insane.

Her head fell back, nails scratching at his shoulders.

“I’m gonna—fuck—gonna come—”

“Come for me,” he commanded, hand tightening at her throat, his mouth on hers as she shattered. Her whole body trembled, walls clenching around him in rhythmic waves. He didn’t stop — just kept going, chasing his own high until his thrusts grew erratic and he came hard inside her again, groaning her name like a prayer.

They stayed like that — shaking, dripping wet, bodies plastered together under the stream — until their breathing evened out.

Jaehyun leaned in, kissed her temple, then whispered against her cheek:

“You call me daddy again, and I swear, I might just fuck the shit out of you with no mercy.”

She laughed — spent, wrecked, and so, so happy.

“Guess I’ll have to say it more often, then.”

He smirked, brushing hair from her face. “You’re so getting bent over that sink next.”

Few weeks later

The music pulsed through the walls of the club, heavy and hot, bass vibrating through the floors like it had its own heartbeat.

Lights flashed overhead in dizzy bursts — red, blue, violet. The crowd moved like waves, hips grinding, drinks spilling, bodies brushing close in the dark.

And somewhere in the middle of it all, Y/N was dancing.

Jaehyun leaned against the bar, jaw clenched, sipping his drink as he watched her with hooded eyes. Her dress was short — dangerously so — clinging to her body like it had been designed to drive him insane. And she knew it. Oh, she fucking knew it.

He watched her laugh at something some random guy whispered in her ear, watched her throw her head back, touching his arm like it was nothing.

But it wasn’t nothing. Not to him.

Because she wasn’t just his best friend anymore. Not after that night on his bed. Not after the shower. Not after she called him daddy with his hand wrapped around her throat.

And yet here she was — pretending they were still just roommates. Still just close friends out clubbing.

Pretending she didn’t know exactly what she was doing.

He downed the rest of his drink and set the glass down a little too hard.

Fine.

Two could play.

When she finally turned to glance at him across the floor — all heat and mischief and sweat-slick skin — he didn’t smile. Didn’t nod. Just stared.

That heavy, unreadable stare that made her thighs press together.

She turned back to the guy dancing behind her, but her hips slowed.

She felt it. The shift.

Jaehyun wasn’t just watching anymore.

He was waiting.

She leaned into the stranger’s touch a little more, lips parting in mock laughter.

And across the room, Jaehyun’s jaw ticked.

She should’ve stopped there. Should’ve known better. But she was tipsy — on alcohol, on attention, on him. And she was feeling bratty.

So when she brushed past Jaehyun to grab another drink, she leaned in real close, whispered in his ear:

“Jealous much?”

He didn’t respond. Just looked at her. Unblinking.

So she smirked. Teased her finger along the edge of his collar. “I’m gonna go freshen up. Try not to stare too hard while I walk away.”

She turned.

Jaehyun waited exactly three seconds before downing the last of his drink and following her.

The hallway to the restroom was dim, empty except for the muffled throb of music bleeding through the walls.

Y/N stepped into the women’s restroom, humming under her breath, cheeks flushed from dancing. She leaned over the sink, fixing her lipstick, unaware that the door behind her didn’t fully close.

Then — a click. The lock.

She turned, startled — and there he was.

Jaehyun.

Broad, dark-eyed, towering in the tight space.

“Jae—? What are you—”

“You done?”

His voice was low. Rough. Dangerous.

She blinked. “What?”

He stepped forward, crowding her back against the sink.

“This game you’re playing. You done teasing?”

She laughed — a little breathless now. “It’s not a game—”

“Yes it is,” he cut her off, hand bracing beside her head. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Grinding on some guy like I haven’t fucked you raw three times this week?”

Her breath hitched.

His hand slid to her throat, thumb tilting her chin up.

“You want me to lose it, don’t you?”

“I—maybe.”

His eyes darkened.

“Then congratulations.”

He spun her around before she could react, bending her over the sink. She gasped, bracing herself on the edge as he yanked up her dress — no preamble, no hesitation. Just pure, possessive energy.

“I tried to be patient,” he muttered, dragging his hand down her spine. “Tried to let you play your little game. But you just had to push me.”

“Jaehyun—”

“Shut up,” he growled, yanking her panties to the side. “You don’t get to act like a brat and then pretend you don’t want this.”

She whimpered — hips wiggling just slightly. A challenge.

So he spanked her.

Hard.

The slap echoed in the bathroom, followed by her muffled moan as her hands clenched the edge of the sink.

“I’ll make sure everyone in that club knows who you belong to,” he whispered against her ear. “Even if they never see it.”

Then he pushed into her — slow, punishingly deep — until she was gasping and arching and biting her lip to keep from moaning too loud.

Jaehyun didn’t hold back.

He set a brutal rhythm, fucking into her with possessive precision, each thrust angled perfectly to make her cry out.

One hand tangled in her hair, yanking her head back, the other snaked around her waist to choke her gently — thumb pressing right under her jawline.

“You like being used like this?” he hissed. “Bent over a dirty sink like a slut?”

“Y-Yes—fuck—”

“You gonna flirt with another guy again?”

She laughed through a moan — bratty to the end. “Only if you watch.”

He growled and slammed into her harder, one hand smacking her ass again, the other gripping her throat tighter.

“You’re gonna pay for that later.”

“P-Promise?”

He fucked her until her legs gave out, until her moans turned into broken little gasps, until her mascara started to smear from the tears she didn’t even notice.

And when she finally came — hard, shaking, back arched like a bow — Jaehyun followed right behind, spilling into her with a groan that sounded like her name.

They stayed like that for a moment — panting, pressed together, sweaty and flushed — the scent of sex thick in the air.

Finally, he pulled back, fixing her dress and kissing her neck.

“You okay?”

She turned, breathless, eyes blown wide. “I want a round two.”

He smirked. “Back to the apartment.”

“No,” she whispered, tugging him down by the collar.

“I meant in the stall.”

The door to the stall slammed shut behind them, barely catching on the lock before Y/N was already on her knees — dress rumpled, pupils blown wide, lips parted in that wrecked little smile that made Jaehyun twitch.

“You’re getting way too good at that,” he muttered, looking down at her. “Dropping like that without me saying a word?”

She just smirked, fingers curling around his waistband as she undid his jeans, slow and teasing. “You didn’t need to say it.”

Jaehyun hissed between his teeth as she pulled him out, her hand wrapping around his cock like it was second nature by now. And maybe it was.

“You’re already so hard,” she murmured, tongue sliding out to trace his tip. “You like me like this, don’t you?”

He stared down at her, hand threading into her hair. “I like you better when your mouth’s full.”

She grinned — brat — and took him in, slow at first, letting her lips stretch around him, letting him feel every inch. Her hands held him at the base, stroking where her mouth couldn’t reach yet, and soon she was bobbing her head, taking more and more, tongue swirling, moaning around him.

And fuck, that sound…

His hips jerked forward instinctively.

But then he saw it.

Her other hand.

Slipped under her dress. Between her legs. Fingers buried where he should be.

“Y/N,” he growled.

She stilled — mouth still full, eyes flicking up to meet his.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His voice dropped, dangerous. “Did I say you could touch yourself?”

She whimpered around him, lips tightening, but she didn’t move her hand.

He stepped forward, forcing her to take more of him, groaning when she gagged just slightly, those wet, obscene noises echoing off the tile.

Then his leg moved between hers, spreading her wider.

“I said—” his hand fisted in her hair, yanking her off him, spit dripping from her lips “—did I fucking say you could touch yourself?”

“N-No,” she whispered, breathless.

“So what the fuck are you doing?”

She opened her mouth to answer but he was already dragging her up by her hair and spinning her, slamming her back into the stall door.

“You wanna act like a slut?” he muttered. “Then I’ll treat you like one.”

He didn’t wait.

He shoved into her in one hard, punishing thrust that made her eyes roll back. His hand clamped over her mouth to muffle the scream, his other hand slipping under her thigh to hook it around his hip and keep her wide open for him.

He fucked her hard — rough, deep, possessive. Every thrust shoved her into the door, the stall rattling with every slap of skin on skin. His palm came down on her ass in sharp smacks that echoed louder than her moans.

“You like this?” he panted. “Getting used like a toy in some filthy club stall?”

She moaned, clawing at his back.

“What was that?” he taunted. “Didn’t hear you.”

“Yes—yes, daddy—”

He growled, fucking her even deeper, sweat dripping down his temple.

Her body clenched — tight, fluttering — and just when she was about to fall over the edge—

He stopped.

Pulled out.

Her whine was immediate, high and needy.

“What the fuck—Jaehyun—!”

“You don’t deserve to cum,” he said simply. “Not yet.”

She sobbed — bratty and ruined — but he flipped her again, bending her over the toilet tank this time, fucking her from behind at a new angle that had her shaking almost instantly.

Then the phone in her purse started ringing.

They both paused for half a second — then Jaehyun’s grin turned vicious.

“Answer it.”

“What—?”

“Answer the fucking phone.”

She fumbled for it with shaking fingers, not even checking the caller ID.

“H-Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Johnny,” came the casual voice on the other end. “I was thinking we should hit up that new rooftop bar next week. You down?”

She tried to breathe. Tried to speak.

Jaehyun grabbed her hips and slammed into her hard, making her lurch forward with a muffled cry.

“Y/N?” Johnny asked. “You good?”

She bit her lip hard, trying to speak through the moan threatening to rip out of her throat. “Y-Yeah, I—mhm—‘m good, just—um—club’s really loud.”

Jaehyun’s hand snaked around to rub slow, brutal circles against her clit.

She whimpered.

“Oh,” Johnny said, clearly pausing. “…should I call back later?”

Jaehyun leaned down, whispering into her ear loud enough to be heard: “Go on. Moan for him, princess.”

She couldn’t help it.

She slipped — loud and sharp and filthy.

“Oh fuck—”

Silence on the line.

Then Johnny’s voice, tight. “Yeah. Uh. Definitely calling back later.”

Click.

The line went dead.

⸻

Johnny’s POV

He stared at the screen for a second, blinking.

Across the table, his friends were still chatting, laughing over drinks.

“You good?” one of them asked, noticing his expression.

Johnny cleared his throat, cheeks flushed red. “Y-Yeah. Just… think I called at a weird time.”

He shoved his phone into his pocket and picked up his drink again, but his mind was definitely not on the conversation anymore.

All he could hear was her voice in his head.

That moan.

Fuck.

⸻

Back to Jaehyun

“Oh?” Jaehyun murmured, thrusting slow and deep now, cock dragging against every sensitive spot. “You clenched so hard when he was on the phone.”

She moaned, wrecked.

“You like being fucked while someone’s listening?”

She nodded.

He laughed — low and dangerous. “Maybe you’d like getting fucked while someone watches too.”

She gasped — and clenched again.

“Oh my god,” he grinned. “You’re such a slut.”

Then he leaned down, lips at her ear.

“Maybe I should invite Johnny next time.”

She moaned — high and needy.

“You’d like that, huh?” he growled. “Two cocks instead of one? One in your mouth, one in your pussy? Letting him see how dumb you get when I fuck you like this?”

She nodded again, panting. “P-Please—daddy—”

“Maybe he’d let me cum,” she teased through a moan. “You’re so mean—”

His hand flew to her throat.

“You wanna come?” he hissed, slamming into her. “Then beg for it.”

She whimpered.

“Beg like a good little slut. Or I’ll keep edging you until you cry.”

Her breath came in ragged gasps, thighs trembling, cheek pressed against the cold stall door as Jaehyun’s grip tightened around her throat. Not enough to hurt — not really — but just enough to remind her who she belonged to.

His cock was buried deep inside her, dragging slow, punishing thrusts that had her clenching and fluttering with every drag. She was so close — could feel the edge of it, hot and prickling and just out of reach.

But he wasn’t giving it to her.

Not yet.

“Go on,” he murmured against her ear, breath hot. “You were talking real bold a second ago.”

She whimpered, squirming under him.

“You said maybe Johnny would let you cum.” His voice dropped, dangerous. “You still think that?”

She shook her head quickly, mouth falling open with a gasped moan when he snapped his hips forward again, hitting that spot that made her knees nearly buckle.

“Then beg.”

“I—daddy—please,” she whispered. “Please let me cum, I need it—”

“Not good enough.” His hand slid between her legs, rubbing circles over her soaked clit, fast and firm and mean. “You can do better than that.”

She sobbed, writhing under his grip.

“Please, daddy,” she choked out. “I’ll be good, I swear—don’t wanna be a brat anymore—just wanna cum—please—”

“Say what you are.”

“I’m your slut,” she gasped. “I’m your filthy little slut and I don’t wanna cum unless you say I can—”

His hand slammed over her mouth just in time as he rammed into her — hard, punishing, each thrust stealing air from her lungs.

“Now,” he growled. “Cum for me. Loud.”

She shattered.

Her scream was lost in his palm, her whole body convulsing around him, legs giving out as her orgasm hit her like a truck. Her walls clamped around him so tight he groaned into her neck, hips stuttering as she milked every drop of sensation from him.

But he didn’t stop.

Not even close.

He pulled her back up, arms wrapped around her waist from behind, holding her flush to his chest while he kept fucking her through it, her body twitching and oversensitive.

“You thought we were done?” he rasped. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

She whimpered, head falling back against his shoulder.

“You begged so pretty for that one,” he said, voice low and smug. “Let’s see how long you last now.”

He brought her to the edge again.

And again.

And again.

⸻

She didn’t know how long it had been. Minutes? Hours? Time had dissolved into a haze of overstimulation and gasped breaths, of rough hands and soft kisses and bruising thrusts that made her see stars.

Eventually, Jaehyun finally pulled out, chest heaving, watching her collapse against the door with her dress riding up, thighs shaking, lipstick smeared across her cheek.

“Fuck,” he muttered, bending to kiss the base of her spine. “You look ruined.”

“I am ruined,” she mumbled, barely able to lift her head.

He laughed, soft but smug, and kissed her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

A/N: SHESH that was intense… i didn’t really expect it to go this far but i just went with the flow🥸 what do you guys think- yall want me to end it here or have a part 2 with a potential invite to johnny…👁️👄👁️

[mysterymachine67]

heyya! bro if I give you everything that's in the list of the things I wanna do to dean Winchester ass, it'd be like dropping a nuclear viagra bomb because jesus I'm down bad 😭

but MY NUMBER ONE I SWEAR I shared this to everyone on here not irl is. dilf reader ladies and gentlemen and not just nonchalant calm dilf no where's the fun and attitude in that? I mean like I mean like a downbad pervert dilf for dean but he never says anything because even he thought it's creepy, until either he walked into dean jacking off to his stolen clothing or like dean bluntly admitting during their drunken state?? IDK DILF READER GOT ME ON A CHOKEHOLD OR EVEM SUBTOP DILF?? BECAUSE COCKY DEANAAAAA

or if you're not into the pervert dilf line, anything relating to reader being older than dean can make my dick cry and ascend

PAIRING -> Dean Winchester x Older M!reader

SUMMARY -> You’ve had a little crush on Dean for a while, but you never told him because 1. You’re older than him by a couple years and 2. You’re sure he’s not even into men. But one day when you hear something from his room, you think maybe it’s the day you do something about it.

NSFW. MINOR’S DNI.

I think I love you, anon. Also you sent this back in March and I want to APOLOGIZE. I am so very sorry 😭

You liked him. You liked him a lot actually. To the point where it even creeped you out yourself. Every time you’d work with them for a hunt, or go visit them Dean always caught your eye. He was a complete ladies man, no way in hell did you have a chance. Also with your age. You assumed he wasn’t into older women, or even men. But little did you know you were so, so wrong.

The bunker was quiet as you walked through the door. Sam had called about needing your help on a hunt, so you took it, of course. You got to help them and see the man you love? Hell yeah. But while on the phone Sam said that he’d be out for a few hours, so it’ll only be you and Dean till he got back. In your opinion it was even better.

You sat your bags down onto the one of many tables. The thud echoing a bit. You didn’t see Dean in any of his usual spots. Probably in his room. Not that it..mattered or anything. So, without anything better to do, you walked to the kitchen. Attempting to find yourself a snack, or even a drink. In which you did. Walking out of the room with your preferred option. You probably should be opening books, looking online for more information about what happened, and trying to figure out what you guys were dealing with. Buuut you decided to roam the halls instead. Yes, you already know your way around the place. Yet that didn’t seemed to faze you.

After walking down one hallway, you turned down the one with Dean’s room. Silently getting a bit excited. Your steps were quiet, not intentionally. But they were quiet enough to where nobody could hear them unless they tried. You couldn’t help it. You stopped right in front of Dean’s door. It was quiet in there, or so it seemed to be. Maybe he was sleeping, taking a nap? Or maybe even listening to music. Nope. The moment you pressed your ear against the door, because why not? You heard a muffled moan.

You have got to get your mind out of the gutter. He probably wasn’t even doing what you thought he was doing. Yeah no you were right. Out of every sound that left him you swear you heard your name in between at least two times. It was clear. Broad as daylight. Now the thought of Dean Winchester jerking off to you, a man that is much older than him, is stuck in your mind. You thought about the face he was making— how pretty he must look, and how long had he been trying to get off. If it were to be you in there, hand wrapped around his cock, would he be even louder than he is now? Would he buck his hips into your hand, begging for more?

Oh you wonder what he sounds like when he—

No, get your head in the game. You have a man jerking off, whimpering behind the door you were currently pressing your ear against. What should you do? Walk away and pretend that this isn’t happening? Or walk in and have the best sex you’ve probably had with the man you’ve been crushing on? Choices, choices, choices.

You’d hate to admit, but your cock was hard. Pressed up against the confinement of your boxers and pants. After a few very long seconds you decide to just walk away. Figuring that’d be the best option. But then just as you start to move your feet, you hear Dean moan your name again. That was the final straw. Your hand found itself on the doorknob, twisting. Thankfully it was unlocked, otherwise it’d be super embarrassing if it wasn’t. And ohhhh this is the sight you’ve been wanting to see. Dean’s hand was wrapped around his cock, hand covered in his own cum, face twisted into a look of pleasure, while his cock was an angry shade of red while twitching. Would it be wrong to say you nearly came in your pants right then and there?

You walked in, shutting the door behind you. When he heard that door click shut his eyes shot open. Hands scrambling to hide his hard-on with the blanket next to him. “What the hell, man?”

“Uh, uh. Don’t act as if you weren’t just moaning my name not too long ago.” You stated, bluntly. And all he did was look at you, confused. Knowing damn well he was just doing that. He was caught, there really wasn’t much to do in this situation. So, he swallowed—looking away for a moment. He refused to have eye contact.

“Listen, I don’t know what you mean,” His eyebrows were raised slightly, and he shrugged. “So if you could get out, that’d be great.” You were going to do anything but that.

You soon got Dean to crack; admitting that he was indeed jerking off to you.

Just as you walked away from his bed, not to leave, but to just roam his room. He called out, stopping you from leaving because to him it seemed like you were. He wanted it, wanted you. Especially to feel your cock hit his prostate with every—

Woah.

He looked down. He had to, because every time he looked at you it just turned him in even more. His cock twitching under the blanket he hid it with.

“‘M not leaving just yet. We haven’t even gotten started,”

—

Dean’s lips crashed against yours—groaning when he felt your hands roam up under his shirt. The kiss was heated but passionate. Something the both of you have been waiting for. He was sat on your lap, your hand around his cock. Jerking him off while your other was feeling him all over. But you wanted to see more of him. So you pulled your hands away, Dean letting out a small groan from the loss of your touch, and helped him take off his shirt. The moment it was off he pulled you back in for another kiss. God, could he let you catch your breath?

By the time your cock was deep in his hole, abusing his prostate, Dean was already nearly out of it. Noises flooding from his mouth, movements getting sloppier and sloppier by the minute, and hands grabbing at whatever he could grab at. And you? You were enjoying this. Who wouldn’t? You have a man that you’ve loved forever bouncing on your cock, which feels like heaven. You moaned into his mouth when he clenched. With how good he felt you couldn’t get enough, bucking your hips up slightly. Driving your cock deeper into him. You shut your eyes and leaned your head back, soon feeling lips on your neck. They trailed up to your jaw, peppering kisses everywhere he could. “Jesus—“ Dean groaned—breath hitting your skin. “Feel s’good,” he mumbled.

You smiled. “Yeah?”

“Mmm..” he tried. One of your hands trailed down his back, feeling his skin against your palm. You groaned, absolutely loving and reeling in the moment.

You were sure the both of you would want way more after this. Him riding you was amazing, yes, but you knew in a matter of minutes after the both of you would cum, you’d want more. And oh, you were right. When you saw how he looked when he came, and how such pretty noises left his mouth, you pulled him off your cock and pushed him into a position that left him exposed. Leaning in closer to him you whispered:

“Y’gonna let me fuck you good?”

And Dean responded with a quick nod.

[hamilton-here]

Hiiii! Can you do a post-breakup fluff with Lewis? No heavy reason like cheating for the breakup. But then they end up in bed again (Idk how but maybe after getting their own things from their apartment or something). I thought this was pretty funny. Thanks a lot!

𝒲𝒽𝑜 𝒮𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝒢𝑜𝑜𝒹𝒷𝓎𝑒, 𝑅𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉?

Authors Note: Hi all! Here’s another request completed! Literally finished this while watching Monaco FP3. Enjoy! Lots of love xx

Summary: A quiet breakup leaves Lewis and the reader aching in silence, still deeply in love.

Warnings: sexual content, mild swearing

Taglist: @nebulastarr @hannibeeblog @cosmichughes

MASTERLIST

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

It wasn’t a dramatic ending.

No shouting. No slamming doors. No sharp words flung like knives across the room.

Just silence.

The kind that stretches and settles into your bones, like winter. The kind that feels like the aftermath of something you can’t name until it’s already broken.

You sat on the edge of the bed, legs tucked under you, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, fingers twisting the soft cotton. You couldn’t meet his eyes not yet. The weight of the moment pressed down on your chest like a stone, making it hard to breathe, to speak, to think clearly.

Across the room, Lewis stood with his back to you, posture tense, arms folded so tightly across his chest it was like he was trying to keep himself from splintering. He was staring out the window, but his eyes weren’t really seeing anything just the hazy, golden blur of city lights bleeding across the glass, blinking like faraway signals neither of you had time to answer.

“I’m not angry,” you said finally. Quiet. Barely audible.

The words felt raw, scraped from the bottom of your throat.

“I don’t think I even have the energy to be.”

He breathed out slowly, shoulders sinking an inch. It sounded like surrender. Like he’d been holding that air for far too long.

“I know,” he said, voice low and dull. “Me neither.”

That somehow hurt more.

Because anger could’ve meant there was something left to fight for. Something to throw your hearts against, something worth the storm. But this? This was just tiredness. Two people who were still in love, but too drained to keep going. Too burned out to find each other in the chaos.

You looked down at the small, half-hearted pile of clothes you’d folded more out of habit than intention. A pair of leggings. Two t-shirts. Your favourite hoodie, the one that always ended up on Lewis’s side of the bed when you weren’t home. You hadn’t even touched your skincare stuff in the bathroom. You couldn’t bear the image of wiping yourself completely out of the apartment, like you’d never existed here. Like you hadn’t once been part of everything.

It was all too fast and too slow, at the same time.

“I kept thinking things would calm down,” you murmured. “That we’d get a week or a weekend just something. But it never came.”

Lewis finally turned around. His eyes were darker than usual, ringed with exhaustion and sadness. His mouth opened, then closed again like there was too much to say and no good place to start.

“We just lost the rhythm,” he said eventually, voice thick.

Like that was enough of an explanation.

“I don’t know when it started. One missed call. One rescheduled dinner. Then it was all the time.”

You nodded; lips pressed into a thin line.

“We stopped showing up.”

It was true. He was always flying off to Bahrain, to Monaco, to press tours, to test tracks. And you were buried under case files, essays, deadlines, trying to meet expectations neither of you had set but both felt bound to. It got harder to find the space where just you two existed no cameras, no laptops, no flight itineraries.

There were no screaming matches. No dramatic accusations. Just long stretches of not talking, not touching, falling asleep with your backs to each other because exhaustion kept replacing intimacy.

“I’d wake up and the bed would already be cold,” you whispered. “And by the time I got home, you were on the other side of the world.”

Lewis looked down, jaw clenched.

“And when I’d finally land, I’d watch you sleeping on the couch in your work clothes, papers still in your lap,” he said. “I didn’t want to wake you. You looked so tired.”

You blinked, your eyes burning.

“I was. So were you.”

Neither of you said it, but the word hovered - breakup. It clung to the walls like dust. Not space. Not a pause. Not a trial.

This was the end of something you hadn’t wanted to end.

Just then, the soft clack of nails on the hardwood echoed in the room. Roscoe trotted in from the hallway, his tongue hanging out slightly, ears perked.

His gaze moved between the two of you, then landed on the bag.

He stopped.

He tilted his head, confused, like something was off but he couldn’t make sense of it.

Then he padded over to you and nudged his nose into your thigh.

You inhaled sharply, the ache in your chest tightening like a vice.

“Hey, Ros,” you said, voice cracking. You bent down, burying your hands in his fur, your face pressed into the warmth of his neck. “Oh, my sweet boy.”

He whined, low and distressed, and pawed gently at your leg, then sniffed your bag and let out another, longer whimper the kind he made when you left for too long.

He knew.

He didn’t understand why, but he knew this wasn’t just a weekend trip.

Lewis crouched beside you, one hand resting on Roscoe’s back, the other brushing yours for half a second before retreating like it had never happened.

You didn’t move away.

“I’ll take care of him,” he said softly, like a promise. “I’ll make sure he’s okay.”

You nodded, swallowing the sob rising in your throat. “Tell him I love him. That I’ll - I’ll see him again. One day.”

Lewis looked up at you. His eyes were glassy, his lips parted like he wanted to say something else, something big, something meaningful. But instead, he offered a small, broken smile.

“He’s going to wait by the door. Every night.”

Your face crumpled.

You imagined it too vividly of Roscoe sitting patiently by the door, tail wagging when keys jingled outside, only for them not to be yours. Curling up in your old spot on the couch. Sniffing around the apartment for your scent. Carrying your sock between his teeth because it still smelled like you.

That did what nothing else had managed to do.

It shattered you.

You pressed one final kiss to his head, murmured something just for him, and stood up on unsteady legs. Lewis rose too, walking you to the door, silent beside you. He didn’t touch your arm. Didn’t ask you to stay.

Because he knew, too.

It wasn’t about love. That was still there, raw and aching. But sometimes love wasn’t enough when time kept running out, over and over again.

You reached the door and hesitated, your hand on the knob. Every part of you screamed don’t go, but none of it was louder than the part that whispered this isn’t working anymore.

Behind you, Roscoe let out one final, low whine. The kind that sounded like goodbye.

You turned the knob. The door opened with a soft click.

And then you stepped through it.

The sound of it closing behind you was louder than anything.

You stood in the hallway, frozen. Pressed your forehead to the cool wood, let your eyes fall shut.

And for the first time in months after all the near-misses, all the half-finished conversations, all the long-distance ache - you cried.

Not the quiet, restrained kind.

You cried like you meant it. ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

One Week Later

The apartment was too quiet.

Not the peaceful kind. Not the kind that meant rest or calm. No, this was the kind that hummed with absence. That settled into the floorboards and echoed in the walls, like a house holding its breath.

Lewis stood in the middle of the living room, barefoot, still in the same joggers and hoodie he’d worn to the gym hours ago. A mug of tea sat cooling in his hand, untouched. The steam had long since faded, leaving behind a bitter sip he wouldn’t drink but couldn’t throw away.

His eyes wandered to the couch.

The throw blanket was still there - the soft, knitted one you always stole from his side. It was folded, but unevenly, one corner tucked into the cushion like it had been caught mid-movement. It still smelled like your perfume. Subtle. Clean. Comforting. The way you used to smell when you curled up beside him after a long day, your limbs tangling into his like puzzle pieces that had always belonged together.

He hadn’t had the heart to move it.

Roscoe lay curled up by the front door again, just like he had the night you left. His head was resting on his paws, ears twitching slightly at every footstep or rustle from the hallway. He no longer barked. Not even a whine. Just waited. Quiet. Still. Like he didn’t want to miss it, in case this time finally it was you coming home.

Lewis exhaled, slow and tired, sinking into the couch like it took effort just to sit. He rested his elbows on his knees, cradling the now-lukewarm mug between his hands. His fingers were shaking, but not from exhaustion. It was something heavier. Something that lived in his chest and pressed into his ribs every time he thought about you.

His phone lay face-down on the coffee table.

He hadn’t turned it off he wasn’t ready for that level of finalitybut he couldn’t bear to look at the screen anymore either. Every time it lit up, his heart jumped, only to crash when it wasn’t your name. Every hour he hadn’t heard from you stretched longer than the last. Each day felt like trying to breathe underwater.

You hadn’t texted.

He didn’t blame you. If he were being honest, he didn’t even know what he would say if you had. But that didn’t stop the aching hope that maybe you’d appear anyway. Just your name. One message. Something.

Anything.

You weren’t doing much better.

Your flat was a mess of half-unpacked boxes and untouched routines. There was a small pile of laundry you couldn’t bring yourself to fold. A half-eaten bowl of cereal on the kitchen table, soggy and forgotten. Mugs lined the counter, mostly filled with cold tea you never finished.

You hadn’t slept well in days. Not really.

The bed was too big without him. Too cold. You kept rolling over expecting to bump into the solid, familiar warmth of his body. His arm slung around your waist. The sound of his slow, steady breathing. But there was nothing. Just your own heartbeat and the hum of the fridge in the kitchen.

Your Spotify kept betraying you.

No matter how many times you tried to curate a new playlist, some old song always snuck through. The one he used to hum while brushing his teeth. The one that played the first night you danced in the living room barefoot, wine-drunk and laughing. The one that made him smile so softly you fell in love with him all over again.

You skipped it. Then the next. And the next.

Eventually, you turned the music off completely and sat in silence. But even that wasn’t safe.

Your silence had a shape now. And it looked like Lewis.

Lewis stared at the photo frame on the shelf the one he hadn’t been able to bring himself to move. It was a candid; one you didn’t even know he’d taken. You were sitting on the balcony, hair a mess, wearing his hoodie and squinting against the sun, a cup of coffee in your hands. You were laughing at something. Probably something dumb he’d said. But it was real. You looked happy.

You looked like home.

He reached for the frame, thumb brushing against the glass. He missed you in stupid, mundane ways. In the way you filled up space just by being in it. In the way his mornings felt brighter when he woke up beside you, even if he had to leave for a flight at 5 a.m. In the way the air in this place felt lighter when you were around.

Now it just felt heavy.

You missed him in fragments.

The way he would instinctively reach out for your hand whenever you crossed the street, even if it was empty. The quiet hum of his voice when he read your notes aloud to help you study. The smell of his cologne lingering in the hallway long after he left. The way he always knew when you needed space and when you needed him to pull you closer without asking.

You missed the man behind the headlines.

The one who carried your groceries when your back hurt. Who took Roscoe to the groomer because you couldn’t deal with the shedding. Who left notes in your textbooks during your exam season, each one sillier than the last.

You didn’t just miss being in love. You missed being known like that.

Neither of you had said the word breakup out loud. But the world had moved on like it had been decided. Like the silence between you had sealed it.

He gave a vague excuse about needing to stay close to London. They didn’t question him, but they noticed.

You hadn’t gone to the study group you organised. Just stared at your laptop screen, the words on the page swimming, meaningless. Every essay felt like it was asking the wrong question. Every sentence led back to him.

Time was supposed to make things clearer. To soften the edges.

But every passing day only made it more obvious this wasn’t the life either of you wanted. Not like this. Not without each other.

You were just tired people who let the exhaustion win. Who let silence do the talking because talking hurt too much. But the truth was simple:

You still loved him. He still loved you.

And in the stillness that followed everything else, you both began to understand:

Silence wasn’t healing.

It was punishment.

It was regret with a slow heartbeat.

Lewis turned his phone over.

His thumb hovered over your name in his favourites list. Not to call. Not yet. Just to look. To remind himself you were still out there. That maybe, in your own quiet corner of the world, you were thinking about him too.

You stared at your phone for the tenth time that hour. Your thumb moved to open a blank text.

Just a few words. Nothing huge. Just...

“Are you okay?”

Or maybe...

“I miss you.”

Or maybe just...

“Come home.”

You typed. Deleted. Typed again. Then stopped.

Somewhere, not far away, Lewis was doing the same thing.

Two people. Two screens. Two broken hearts still beating for each other.

Neither of you hit send.

But both of you were almost there.

And maybe tomorrow...one of you would. ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

The door to your former apartment groaned open, the familiar weight of it pushing against your hip as you stepped inside. Your keys clinked into the little bowl by the entrance like they always had even though this wasn’t your place anymore.

It still smelled like him.

That warm, signature blend of clean linen, bergamot, and whatever cologne Lewis always wore that made strangers lean in and ask, “What is that?” You used to tease him that it was somehow infused into the walls and now, standing here again after weeks apart, it hit you like a punch to the chest.

You paused, halfway out of your shoes, letting the silence wrap around you. The quiet wasn’t cold, it wasn’t empty, but it hummed with the weight of familiarity. The kind that settled into your bones. Your fingers hovered on the laces before you gave up and stepped out barefoot, the hardwood cool beneath your feet.

Muscle memory guided you even now. You dropped your tote bag by the arm of the couch, tugged your sleeves down past your palms like you always did when your hands itched with nerves, and padded toward the hallway.

And stopped dead.

He was here.

Lewis was in the bedroom, back slightly hunched as he bent over a cardboard box. His broad shoulders were bare because apparently heartbreak had robbed him of a shirt but not his dedication to early morning workouts. His curls were still damp, clinging to the nape of his neck like he’d just showered. He hadn’t heard you yet.

But someone else had.

A skitter of nails on hardwood echoed down the hall, and then Roscoe came flying around the corner, a streak of fur and sound. He barked a single, sharp cry before launching himself at you with a kind of desperate joy that cracked something inside your chest.

“Ros—” you barely managed before you were hit by sixty pounds of pure loyalty and emotion. He whined loudly, circling your legs, pawing at your knees, trying to climb up into your arms as if he could physically pull you back into his world.

You dropped down instantly, burying your face into the thick folds of his neck. The smell of dog shampoo and something distinctly him - Lewis, this home, this chapter of your life filled your senses.

“Oh, baby,” you whispered, voice breaking as your eyes stung. “I missed you so much.”

Roscoe whimpered in return, nudging your cheek with his snout like he was checking to see if you were real. Like he had been waiting every day for this moment just like you.

Your fingers curled into his fur as he pressed closer, his body trembling with excitement. You stayed there a moment longer than you should have, grounding yourself in the only thing that hadn’t changed.

And then Lewis turned around.

He was still holding the box, forgotten in his hands, his eyes fixed on you like he wasn’t quite sure if you were real either. His expression was unreadable for a second then it cracked, just a little, like something in him had softened the second you walked through the door.

“I didn’t think you’d come by today,” he said finally, voice rough, like it hadn’t been used in hours. Or maybe like he hadn’t said much since you left.

“I texted you,” you murmured, still on the floor, one hand buried in Roscoe’s fur. “You left your charger…and like, half your sunglasses in my car. And I forgot some of my necessities…”

“You’re right. Can’t leave without my personality.”

A huff escaped you startled and involuntary. Of course he was still funny. Of course, he still had that timing, still knew exactly how to slip past your defences like nothing had changed.

But everything had changed.

“I was packing up the rest of your stuff,” he added, gesturing toward the bed. “Didn’t want you to have to dig through everything.”

You glanced over. Inside the box were your favourite sweatpants, the tea you always kept hidden in the pantry behind the protein powder, your pillow the one he used to hug to his chest when you were out of town. The one he used to claim still smelled like you, even when you hadn’t stayed the night in weeks.

The care he’d taken with it all made your throat ache.

“Thanks,” you said softly, rising to your feet.

Roscoe stuck close as you moved, leaning into your leg like he was scared you’d disappear again. You absently ran your fingers through his fur, your gaze flitting back to Lewis. He crossed his arms over his chest, almost like he didn’t know what else to do with them.

Like if he didn’t hold himself together, he might fall apart.

“You want tea?” he asked suddenly, breaking the silence with something so simple, so him, it caught you off guard. “I, uh…I still have that depressing chamomile you like.”

Your brows lifted, just slightly. “You mean the one that’s calming and perfect?”

His smile was small but genuine, a hint of that dimple teasing at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. That one.”

And maybe you were still raw. Maybe it was the smell, or Roscoe, or just seeing him like this quiet, familiar, Lewis. But you nodded.

And stayed.

Five minutes later, you were both on the couch, mugs in hand, the distance between you carefully unmeasured. Roscoe had wedged himself between your feet like he used to, his heavy head resting on Lewis’s thigh, tail occasionally thumping in half-hearted approval. It was like he couldn’t decide who he was more loyal to or maybe he didn’t care, as long as you were both here.

You talked about nothing at first.

Monaco’s weird weather. His latest race how the wind had played tricks on turn eleven. How your friend Kayla had finally dumped the guy who made her do juice cleanses and talked about Bitcoin at parties. Lewis laughed at that in that deep, familiar way that made something flutter and ache all at once.

The kind of laugh that had once made you feel like the only person in the room.

Then a brush of knees. Bare skin grazing bare skin beneath the hem of his shorts and your cuffed joggers. Neither of you moved.

The silence that followed was different. Still warm. Still soft. But quieter. More fragile.

“I missed this,” he said quietly, almost like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to say it out loud.

Your fingers tightened around your mug. “Yeah,” you whispered. “Me too.”

And for a moment, the ache between you wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t something jagged or broken it was soft, lived in. Like an old favourite shirt. The kind you could still wear, even if it didn’t fit quite right anymore.

You looked over at him, really looked and his eyes were already on you.

And in them was something you recognised. Something like love, but older. Tired. Softer. But still there.

Still his.

“Roscoe’s not the only one who’s been waiting, you know,” he said, voice rough again, barely above a whisper.

And you couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe around the lump in your throat. So instead, you leaned your knee back into his. Let yourself tilt just a little closer.

Let yourself believe, just for tonight, that maybe not everything had to stay broken.

And then like gravity didn’t care about breakups, like time and pain and pride meant nothing you leaned in at the same time.

The kiss wasn’t soft.

It was desperate.

Clumsy.

Rough.

Like neither of you had eaten in weeks and had just remembered what hunger felt like.

His mouth crashed against yours, and the breath punched out of your lungs as months of unspoken words, unshed tears and late-night aching exploded between your lips. It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t careful. It was needy his teeth catching your bottom lip, your nails digging into his shoulders, both of you breathing like you were trying to crawl inside each other.

Your fingers dove into his curls, yanking just enough to make him groan into your mouth a guttural, low sound that vibrated through you. His hands were already on you, sliding beneath your shirt like they were chasing something lost. He gripped your waist, rough and reverent all at once, like he didn’t know whether to hold you together or tear you apart.

He pressed you down into the couch, his body heavy and warm over yours. You didn’t care that the cushions bit into your spine, didn’t care that your knee hit the coffee table. All you cared about was the way his mouth dragged across your jaw, down the column of your neck not soft, but claiming. His stubble scraped along your skin, his lips biting and sucking like he was making up for every day you spent apart.

You gasped, back arching into him. “Lewis—”

“This—” he panted, mouth still on your throat, voice rough and full of something broken, “this is not what I planned.”

You blinked up at him, lips kiss-bruised, heart racing. “You want me to stop?”

His laugh was a rasp in the dark. “God, no. I want…I want you.”

That was all it took.

Your clothes came off in frantic, fumbled movements shirts tossed over shoulders, pants kicked away in the hallway, socks forgotten. His hands were everywhere, greedy and unforgiving, squeezing, stroking, tugging you flush against him as he stumbled you both toward the bedroom.

He pushed you back onto the mattress, hard enough to bounce, and then he was on you teeth on your collarbone, fingers digging into your thighs as he spread you open with zero hesitation.

“Missed this,” he muttered like a prayer as he kissed a trail down your stomach. “Missed you.”

When he sank to his knees and dragged his mouth up the inside of your thigh, your breath hitched so sharply it was almost painful. His grip was bruising, his tongue relentless licking, sucking, teasing until your hips were shaking and your hands were in his hair again, pulling without apology.

He didn’t stop. Not when you cried out. Not when your thighs threatened to close. He held you open, held you there, watched you fall apart on his tongue like he needed to ruin you, to prove you still belonged to him or maybe that he still belonged to you.

By the time he finally came up for air, your body was wrecked and trembling. And still, you reached for him.

He crawled over you slowly, eyes dark, jaw clenched like he was barely keeping it together. His hands framed your face, and his thumb brushed your cheek like he hadn’t just pulled you apart piece by piece. Like he was seeing you for the first time again.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, voice hoarse and raw.

You stared up at him, your chest rising and falling with sharp, shallow breaths. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

His mouth crashed into yours again, and this time when he pushed into you deep, hard, all at once you cried out against his lips, nails raking down his back. It wasn’t slow. It wasn’t soft.

It was rough.

It was real.

It was everything you’d been craving.

He fucked you like he missed you. Like he hated that he missed you. Like the only way to make sense of it was to bruise your hips with his grip and kiss you so hard it felt like penance.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, your body arching to meet every thrust, every grind of his hips. He buried his face in your neck, breathing harshly, voice cracked with emotion.

“I thought about this every night,” he gasped. “Every fucking night. Your voice. Your hands. The way you looked at me.”

You clung to him like you might fall apart. “I never stopped thinking about you.”

And that did something to him. He slammed into you harder, deeper, like he wanted to carve himself back into your skin, back into your life.

You didn’t stand a chance.

You came with a cry that punched from your lungs, shaking so hard you thought you might break. And when he followed moaning your name like a promise, his body trembling as he spilled into you it wasn’t just release. It was something bigger. Something heavier.

It was every unsent text. Every almost-call. Every time you’d gone to bed cold and alone.

And then silence.

The kind of silence that only happens when two people have been completely undone.

The sheets were a mess beneath you, twisted and damp with sweat. Your skin was flushed and marked with his lips, his hands, his teeth. He didn’t let you go. One arm locked tight around your waist, the other buried in your hair like a tether.

Your heart was still thudding. His was, too. You could feel it where your chests pressed together, still wild, still aching.

He kissed your forehead. Just once. Quiet. And you closed your eyes because if you looked at him now, you might shatter.

Because this wasn’t a mistake.

Wasn’t a relapse.

Wasn’t just about the sex.

It was grief.

It was love.

It was two people who hadn’t stopped needing each other even when they’d tried.

It was gravity.

It was inevitable.

And it wasn’t over.

It was quiet for a long time after.

The kind of quiet that doesn’t need to be filled. Not with words. Not with apologies. Just the sound of your breaths beginning to slow, your hearts trying to catch up with everything your bodies had already admitted.

You were still wrapped around him, limbs tangled beneath the sheets, the room dim with late-night shadows. The only light came from the hallway soft and golden, casting just enough glow to catch the sweat still clinging to his temple, the rise and fall of his chest.

Lewis had shifted onto his side, propped up on one elbow, just watching you. Like if he blinked, you’d disappear again.

You stared up at the ceiling, your body still warm from the aftershocks. The air smelled like lavender, like skin, like him. But your heart - your heart was louder than anything.

Eventually, your voice broke through the silence, small and uncertain. “This doesn’t mean anything, right?”

You hadn’t meant it to sound like a challenge. But it did. Defensive, like you were already bracing for impact. Like if you said it first, maybe it wouldn’t hurt when he agreed.

He turned to look at you, brow furrowed. “It means I’m an idiot.”

You blinked. “…What?”

“I thought we needed space,” he said quietly, eyes steady on yours. “That maybe we were better off focusing on work. That maybe time apart would fix something. But every time I walked past your mug or looked at your empty side of the bed, it just felt wrong.”

His voice cracked, just slightly. Not enough to fall apart but enough that you heard the truth in it.

“I don’t think I ever stopped loving you,” he admitted. “I just got too tired to show it right.”

Your throat tightened.

You’d spent weeks pretending not to care. Ignoring the ache. Filling your schedule. Telling Kayla you were fine even when she saw right through it. But hearing him say it hearing that he hadn’t let go either made something collapse inside you.

“Lewis…”

He shifted closer, brushing his knuckles gently along your wrist like he was grounding himself. Like the touch was the only thing keeping him real.

“I’m not saying we figure everything out tonight,” he said. “I know it wasn’t perfect. I know I wasn’t perfect. But maybe we try again. Slower. Smarter. With better tea and more time for each other.”

You looked at him really looked. Not the world’s version of Lewis Hamilton. Not the champion. Just him. The man who used to sneak chocolate biscuits into the grocery cart when you weren’t looking. Who always fell asleep five minutes into a movie but insisted he didn’t. Who kissed your temple before every flight like it was a ritual.

There was a softness in his eyes now fragile and hopeful. Like he wasn’t asking you to fix everything. Just to let him try.

“Do I still get the good tea mug?” you asked after a beat, your voice a little thick.

His smile returned, tugging at the corners of his mouth smaller than the ones he gave cameras, but more real than any you’d seen in months.

“Only if you promise not to ruin the vibe.”

You huffed a laugh, your chest loosening for the first time in what felt like forever. “No promises.”

He rolled onto his back, arm looping around your waist and pulling you in without another word. You went willingly, your head tucking beneath his chin, your fingers tracing idle patterns on the bare skin of his chest.

The duvet rustled as he pulled it higher around you both. The room was warm now, full of shared breath and the slow return of comfort. Not perfect. Not yet, but honest.

And for the first time in weeks, the apartment felt like home again.

Not just because the lights were dim or the sheets smelled like him or because you were wrapped in his arms. But because he was there. Because despite the space and the silence and the break-up that had kept you apart, you’d still found your way back to each other like magnets, like muscle memory.

Like gravity.

“I kept your book on the nightstand,” he murmured suddenly. “The one with the dog-eared pages and the underlines. I didn’t, I couldn’t move it.”

You smiled against his skin, something warm blooming in your chest. “I kept your hoodie. The grey one you always said was cursed.”

“Because I crashed the car twice wearing it.”

You both laughed, soft and sleepy, and the sound felt like an exhale.

It hit you then not all at once, but in slow, quiet waves: this wasn’t a fluke. It wasn’t about sex or timing or a moment of weakness. It was deeper than that. Older.

No matter how far apart you drifted, no matter how stubborn or tired or lost you both got, something in you would always pull you back to him.

And something in him would always wait for you.

It didn’t happen all at once.

You didn’t wake up the next morning with everything magically healed, with every crack smoothed over by the soft press of his lips on your shoulder. But you did wake up wrapped in him in the warmth of his body, in the steady rhythm of his breathing, in the quiet certainty that you were both still there. Still choosing this. Choosing each other, even through the mess. Even through the past.

And that was more than enough to start.

The first week back together felt like something between a honeymoon and a soft, cautious reboot. Like trying on your favourite sweater after weeks in storage familiar and warm, even if it still smelled faintly of distance. You kept bumping into the old rhythms, finding traces of the life you used to share, but everything felt sweeter now. More intentional.

Lewis cooked breakfast on the second morning or tried to, anyway.

You padded into the kitchen barefoot, your oversized hoodie hanging off one shoulder, only to find him shirtless in a cloud of smoke. The toast was blackened to a crisp, Roscoe was licking pancake batter off the floor and the smoke alarm blared above his head like it was auditioning for an action movie.

He was waving a dish towel wildly at the ceiling, his curls frizzing at the edges from the heat. “This was supposed to be romantic,” he croaked through a coughing fit, eyes wide and sheepish.

You leaned against the counter and laughed a real, belly-deep laugh that echoed off the cabinets. “Is this the part where I swoon?”

“Please don’t,” he grumbled, voice muffled by a tea towel. “We might both die in here.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth anyway, soft and grateful and pulled out your phone to order pancakes from your favourite brunch place. As you placed the order, he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder, whispering against your skin, “I swear, I’m gonna learn how to poach an egg if it kills me.”

You tilted your head toward him, smiling. “Please don’t die over eggs.”

“I would for you,” he whispered dramatically, and you laughed again, leaning into him.

That afternoon, you made a list together.

Literally.

He pulled out his Notes app while you were curled up on the couch with a blanket wrapped around both your legs, Roscoe sprawled across your feet and titled it: Operation: Don’t Mess This Up.

“I’m being serious,” he said, his voice lower now, thumb moving steadily across the screen. “We’re not going back to what broke us. We’re going to build better. Starting with time. And space not that kind of space, I mean like…room to breathe. To show up for each other without sacrificing the stuff that makes us, us.”

So, you carved it out for real, this time.

You blocked off days on your shared calendar. Colour-coded them. Tuesdays - Us. No interviews. No calls. No late-night scripts or early meetings. Just wine, or tea, or matching face masks if the mood struck. If he was home, you cooked together or at least, you tried. He got better at the eggs. You taught him to dice onions without crying. He taught you how to make his nan’s ginger tea.

When he was traveling, you FaceTimed from hotel beds and airport lounges, the screen lighting up with sleepy smiles and “I miss yous” whispered between yawns. You watched him eat room service pasta in Rome while you folded laundry in London. You watched Love Island together, muting the audio and providing your own commentary.

And you laughed. God, you laughed so much.

He started leaving you notes.

On the bathroom mirror:

You looked too good this morning. Kind of rude, honestly.

Tucked into your tote bag before a long day of classes:

Don’t forget to breathe. You’re brilliant, even when you doubt it.

And once scribbled on a napkin and left on your pillow after a long week —

I missed your laugh. Please don’t ever take it away from me again.

That one made you cry. The kind of tears that come when you feel safe enough to let it all out. He found you curled up on the bed, napkin still in your hands, and he just held you. No questions. Just his arms, steady and sure, wrapped around your ribs like he was holding your heart in place.

You started showing up more, too.

Before, you'd always told yourself you didn’t want to get in the way of his schedule, his team, the media, the noise. But now you knew better. Now you knew that love doesn’t take up space. It makes it.

So, you surprised him at the garage before a race in Spa. You wore one of his old hoodies, your hair tucked under a cap, a shy grin playing on your lips.

His eyes found you instantly, even through the crowd.

He crossed the paddock in four long strides and tugged you into his arms like he was afraid you might vanish if he waited a second longer. “You’re here,” he murmured into your hair, arms wrapped tight around your back. “Feels like I can breathe again.”

And when he stepped into the car, helmet tucked under one arm, he kissed your forehead through the visor and said, “Don’t go anywhere. You’re my good luck charm.”

You didn’t go anywhere.

You stayed. You cheered. And when he crossed the finish line in second not first, he still smiled like he’d won everything, because you were there. You were always going to be there.

You bought matching mugs for the apartment. One said Let’s Stay In, the other said Let’s Go Racing. You fought over who got which depending on the day.

You reorganised your shared calendar with stickers and colour codes and a little smiley face next to every Us Day.

You signed up for a pottery class together. You were both terrible at it. You made lumpy bowls and weird, tilting cups, and your hands were always covered in clay. But it didn’t matter because every class ended with your fingers tangled together, laughing over your disasters, stealing kisses behind the spinning wheel.

One night, lying on your backs in the living room with Roscoe curled between you and dried clay smudged across your cheeks, Lewis turned to you and whispered, “This feels like us.”

You turned your head; cheek pressed into the rug. “Yeah?”

He nodded slowly. “Like the real us. Not perfect. Just good. Just right.”

And there was so much love.

In the way he pulled you into his hoodie when you got cold, whispering, Come here, sweetheart. You’re freezing.

In the way you always reached for his hand, under restaurant tables, in elevators, a silent signal: I’m here.

In the way you both said I love you like it meant something brand new every time.

“I love you,” he’d murmur when you got overwhelmed by exams, pressing a kiss behind your ear.

“I love you,” you’d whisper into his shoulder after long flights, when his body ached and his eyes barely stayed open.

And once during a completely normal trip to the grocery store, he looked at you in the cereal aisle, cereal in one hand and your fingers in the other, and said with quiet awe, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.”

You laughed so hard you nearly dropped the oat milk.

But it was true.

You weren’t perfect. You still bickered about directions. He still left his chargers everywhere. You still forgot to take your vitamins unless he reminded you in that tone. But now? Now, you forgave faster. Loved louder. Paused longer. You knew how to hold space for each other how to say what you needed before it broke you both.

One night, wrapped up together on the couch, rain whispering against the windows, his voice broke through the stillness.

“Thank you,” he said softly, thumb brushing the back of your hand. “For coming back.”

You pressed a kiss to his collarbone. “Thank you for waiting.”

He pulled the blanket higher, tucked you under his arm, and held you like a promise warm, steady, whole. And in that golden quiet, with Roscoe snoring at your feet and the scent of tea lingering in the air, you realised something:

You weren’t just healing.

You were home.

Still, you and him.

Still in love.

And this time? This time forever meant something different not a promise without flaws, but one you’d keep choosing, again and again.

Slower. Smarter. With better tea.

And love - the kind that stays.

[aaabatteriez]

we're not quite lovers, so i tell everyone we're just friends

zoro x afab! reader

hi! this is the revised + part 2 ish of the original. i doubt ill come back to this but idk i love quiet love sm 😕😕 and yearning. and the line between friends nd lovers. ts wounds me. zoro being bad abt feelings.

we're not quite lovers, so i tell everyone we're just friends.

the lights in the kitchen were dim except for one; blanching it's warm, yellow light upon you, the stool you sat upon, the table where your rigid shoulders heaved, and a bottle of soju alongside an emptied glass. 

remnants of your drunken lips were smeared on it's rim, as a single drop of liquor cascaded down one of the beveled edges of the cup. it was a true mirror of the state you were in. 

with tired eyes, you set aside the glass, the clink you heard upon doing so, sounding much too familiar. 

to hear it, hurt your heart, but not more than your pride, knowing if at that moment you heard more than one, how easily you would have bursted into tears.

clink. clink. clink. 

that was the sound one would hear when roronoa zoro entered the room. quiet yet full of presence, it was always three consecutive clinks, one from each of his blades clashing from the tread of his footsteps on deck. before your mind even got the chance to protest, the sound carved itself into your memory with ease.

there were a lot of things about the swordsman you memorized without meaning to.

it was like he hardly slept at all, by how early he would rise at dawn. you knew it well because sometimes in your sleep you stirred, and when you woke you'd hear the clink of his swords on the other side of the door as he walked past.

by afternoon, often you'd find the swordsman in deep sleep, in every possible location on the ship. it made sense to you though, of course he'd need to make up for the time lost to early training than to doze off. though his routine was out of his own willingness, you always made sure to interrupt roronoa zoro's way of life for meal times, when you noticed that he was asleep for longer than usual.

on one of those days, you and everyone had gathered for lunch. It was only mid way through the meal that you noticed the empty chair beside you. everyone was seated, except for the man who's mere absence left you feeling odd. you forgot to wake the swordsman. without hesitation, you set down your chopsticks and got up.

"(y/n), are you going to get zoro again?" asked the navigator. 

the question stopped you in your tracks. you turned to nami, who's casual expression meant nothing at face value, that was until you became well acquainted with the look that glinted in the cat burglar's eyes, curiosity lighting aflame when it came to matters of gold, treasure, and more recently; you and the man who was currently snoring away with an empty stomach.  

you nodded at the question, to which the sharpshooter who sat beside her looked to you, towards nami, then back to you again, the smirk on his face growing wider throughout the whole exchange. 

to this, nami made no attempt to cease ussop's silent amusement, flashing an impish grin to her partner in crime, just as mortifying as his.

"what." you said, a desperate attempt to protect your pride.

"you know, (y/n)," ussop spoke, "i think it would be better if you were our cook instead of sanji."

the blonde chef glanced towards ussop's direction.

"if you were making dinner everyday, zoro would be the first one seated." 

nami burst into laughter, jabbing ussop's shoulder repeatedly with her palms as he snickered. amused glances darted around the room, even luffy joined in with a hearty laugh, however it was not for the same reason that caused your cheeks to light aflame. 

"don't be weird." you groaned. 

"i'm not! i'm just saying," ussop grinned, swirling around the contents of the soup bowl cradled in his hand, "everyone here knows zoro sleeps like crazy, but we don't bother to wake him. there's a reason for that, (y/n)."

ussop paused, lowering his utensils.

"to say the least, it's like... poking a tiger with a stick."

chopper shuddered as if just hearing the sentiment was enough to relive the dreaded, 'who wants to wake zoro? not it!' game. the doctor's 62-day losing streak only came to an end once you had joined the crew.

ussop continued, "the thing with you, is that you get zoro up like he was never sleeping to begin with. not only that, you do it completely unscathed!" 

nami nodded in agreement, the others similarly without a hint of protest.

"so there's no way he doesn't care for you right? atleast a little." nami teased. "wouldn't you agree sanji?"

sanji hummed, "that meathead has more moss in his brain than neurons, but he's an easy book to read."

you grew quiet.

"it's not rocket science. anyone can see that zoro likes (y/n)." 

"zoro likes (y/n)? of course! she's part of our crew!" luffy laughed.

"not like that, luffy." sanji sighed.

you lowered your hands to your sides, stifly. your embarrassment was long replaced with a feeling that burdened you much more than a couple teasing remarks ever could. 

"i know you all mean well, but i think you've got the wrong idea." you said, lips upturned into a smile that was a much of a lie as the next words that came out of your mouth.

"we're just friends, that's all."

———

as you left the dining room, you could feel the sentiment lingering in your throat, your tongue resting on the hard palate of your mouth, matching the final consonant.

that's all.

to roronoa zoro, the words "that's all" was easy for him. you'd gotten used to the way he'd leave long silences and unended conversations, without much explanation or room for interpretation. when you were with others, when you two were alone. when you'd see him in the boys cabin in the daylight, when he'd visit yours in the night. to roronoa zoro, the words "that's all" meant what they meant. there was no reason to question the statement. the words "that's all" would've been something he nodded at and left the room. something he'd turn his attention to for a split second, but ultimately it would never cross his mind again. 

maybe the cook was right, how easily roronoa zoro read after so much time with him. the only thing is, you were just friends, and that's all you were. that's what you claimed, and that's what he'd be okay with. words that meant what they meant.

You walked along the deck, your arm softly meeting the railing, until you stopped at the familiar sound of a light snore.

you smiled softly to yourself, walking closer towards the frontmost part of the deck where zoro was sleeping seated upright, head cocked to one side. his shoulders lying low, chest rising and falling to the slow yet heavy rhythm of his breathing. 

had you remembered the words you said earlier to your friends, you wouldn't have taken these few moments to study the way the swordsman looked. he was handsome, you knew anyone could see that. but it was when you started your routine of waking him did you notice the way his strongest and most chiseled features became his softest at rest. the curve of his cheek, the lack of furrow in his brow. his lips slightly parted. he was lighter in this state. less tired, less bitter. 

his muscular frame however, was still as solid asleep as awake, but never did his sleeping form make you feel as uneasy as the way he looked after slaying a man 40 times the size of himself. instead, he was heavy in a remote state, like a large rock, unmoving, yet soft.

you knelt down to meet him at face level, as you've always done countless times before, resting a palm on his shoulder.

"zoro," you said, lightly patting the fabric.

being met with no response, you called again. 

"zoro."

his breath was interrupted with a low grunt, then it continued again, ignoring you completely. you knew after some time this was not a case of the swordsman in deep sleep, it was one of refusal. seeing how his posture shifted to one more attentive than the way he was sitting moments ago, it only comfirmed your suspicions.

"i know you're awake, you big lug." you rolled your eyes in amusement. your hands lowered to meet the collar of his coat, lightly tugging the fabric.

still, his act continued even after confrontation, even after a couple firmer attempts to nudge him awake, and finally an exasperated sigh from you in defeat. without much else to do, you turned your head to look in the direction you came.

"i'll bring you a plate if you're so tired today." you said.

but before you could stand up to do so, the swordsman stopped you, his palms meeting your arms, heavy eyes opening to look at you. only you.

what one might expect from the likeness of roronoa zoro, is that his touch would be a great distance away from ever being tender.

i mean, he was a swordsman of course. how could a man who's life passion consisting of violence and bloodshed, have hands be anything but cold, unmercifcul, as if it was a physical imprint of how closely he worked with death himself?

maybe it has been too long. too much time. too many moments where you've bumped shoulders, or brushed each others' knuckles without meaning to. too many nights spent training, where his hands lingered to correct your form longer than they should have, or held onto you in battle even when danger was far away from the two of you. 

because if you really thought about it, you couldn't even imagine a moment in time where roronoa zoro was ever rough with you.

yes, his hands were of little to no vanity. they were coarse and blistered, that much was clear from how hard he worked. but his touch, it was the kind of tenderness that was never too excessive or flowery, but simple and soft, tender enough to withold you from leaving him, from moving, from breathing altogether.

at that moment, he brushed a hand along your back, then raised it to where your hair met the collar of your shirt, strands falling loosely over your shoulders. he paused for a moment, hand frozen in place. to look at you. then ever so slowly, he shifted your hair to one side, grazing the crease of his thumb along the nape of your neck. 

his gaze never left you. you couldn't describe it well, because in moments like these you found yourself looking at just about anywhere, anything, as long as it wasn't him, because never would you admit that the way he watched your face with such focus made your heart ache so easily. 

had you looked at the swordsman's face for any longer, you wouldve felt a dangerous lack of restraint to close the distance between you and him, the man who had just moved your hair out of the way for no reason at all. for no real reason, other than it was something he wanted to do, so he did it. 

had you looked at him for any longer, would you have mirrored his actions in return? 

your hands dropped to your sides as you stepped back, letting him move from his rested position.

"you don't get me food." he said, firmly, slowly rising to his feet.

"hm?" you asked, a little taken aback.

"you offered to get me a plate, don't do that." he grunted, shifting his weight to stretch his shoulders.

"why not?" 

"because if i don't get up to eat even after you go trying to wake me up, that's my fault." he turned to you, "you're no maid, so don't act like it."

you smiled.

"hey, if you're trying to say i'm a doormat,  then you're very much mistaken," you scoffed. "if you made me get you food from today onward, i would've started complaining by day three."

"my point exactly." he grinned, flashing a canine.

"oh come on! how?" 

"it takes you three days to start complaining. were you gonna bathe and dress me too?"

the remark left you feeling more embarrassed than you wished it did. you smacked his back with your open palm, flustered, as you walked towards the dining room.

it was an action that encouraged him to joust back, for him to flinch and shake your hand off his body and grunt in annoyance, away from your touch, away from you. but he did none of these things. 

he simply let you, a content expression across his face, looking at you with those same honest eyes that made your walk falter behind him, your hand slowly falling back to your side.

for a moment you both walked in silence, zoro infront of you.

then you walked forward, brushing his forearm with yours, closer to him, closer than you needed to. and he just let you.

and for a moment, the shortest spec of a moment, your heart urged you to ask him why. 

to ask why he let you walk closer. why he didn't move a muscle when you hit him and scolded him. why he would sleep for hours on end so you could wake him, and he could look at you, touch you, do all these things for longer than your heart could handle, and then repeat it all the next day without saying a single word.

you didn't have the courage to, of course, because you were just friends. 

so you didn't say anything, and neither did he.

———

it was after a long fervour of party streamers, violin concertos, cake and booze on the sunny, that you were resting near the bow of the ship.

the sound of light waves rolling and crashing down replaced the hollering shouts of your once drunken, but now sleeping, crewmates. it seemed everyone was knocked out cold. it was so quiet now. what a party, the strawhats could throw.

you contently gazed up at the stars above, ones that seemed to glisten only for the ocean below, and you wondered if they knew how radiant they looked from millions of light years away. and then you wondered how the world would look from up that high, if you could trade places with the stars. 

you figured from such a distance as theirs, it would be quite an eyesore to try to see anything. 

maybe you had been looking up at the stars for too long, thinking about them for too long, that you didn't see when exactly roronoa zoro walked up beside you, built arms resting on the ship's railing. your eyes fluttered closed.

 no, you really didn't see him. 

clink clink clink.

the sound was enough to know. 

without hesitance, his name droned out of your lips in a sigh, "zoro, how many drinks did you have?" you leaned against the railing. 

he grunted. when you opened your eyes, his gaze was already fixated on you. 

"lost count." 

the feather-like waft of the wind caused his earrings to softly chime and glisten, moonlight framing the crystal gold just as lavishly as it did his jawline. god. even the moon was weak to handsome men. 

you hummed, gaze drifting downwards to his chest, absentmindedly, "i guess when you can hold your liquor, it's easy to forget, huh?" 

he nodded, and for a moment you both stilled in each others presence, the cold of the railing, the stillness of wind and sea from above as below.

"why are you awake?" he asked, breaking the soft quiet in the air. 

"hm? oh. don't you remember?" you turned to him, "i'm on night duty for the week." 

"oh." his posture lowered with understanding, "so that's why you weren't there when i..." zoro stopped. his mouth closed almost instantaneously after the sentence, his eyes darting to the ground. 

you tilted your head in confusion, inviting him to continue, "when you...?"

he opened his mouth to speak again, turning to you, but he had no words left to say once you came into his view. your puzzled yet soft expression, the wrinkle in your brow, the way you leaned ever so slightly torwards him, so ardently for him to finish his sentence. 

you were listening to him. really listening. that very fact filled the swordsman with a hesitant kind of dread, and no longer could he find the words he meant to say.

all of a sudden it felt they weighed more, with the way you were looking at him that night.

his jaw tightened, heavy eyes giving your mouth a once over before shaking his head and clearing his throat.

"s' nothing, forget it."

———

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

it is 2am rn i should be asleep but i'm high on the buzz from reading literally everything you've written with her so i'm doing something i've never before and asking: Furina confession?

also, again, love the writing, tumblr one-shot writers truly make the world... something idk i need to sleep

(Genshin Impact) Furina Confessing to Reader

I exist because content for the girls does not (or at least anything recent besides myself and others I can count on like one hand. On tumblr anyway, on AO3, BOY IS THAT A LOT OF SMUT)

Furina stood in the mirror, staring at herself and taking a deep breath.

Right now, she was in nothing more than a plain shirt and baggy pants since there was no home.

Her hair was also a bit disheveled, but appearances didn't matter right now!

Exhaling finally, Furina nodded to herself and recited her line.

(Furina) "(Y/N). I'm in love with you-!"

She elegantly gestured outwards with her hand, ready to go off on a mini-tangent, endlessly showering them with praise and dramatics...

...Until she sighed, shaking her head. Theatrics wouldn't do. This was something that deserved to come from her heart.

For the fat lot of good that was.

Furina slowly tapped her finger against the sink, eyes trailing down as her thoughts began to wander.

She had impersonated an Archon for centuries, performed in countless theater productions, faced the music of her people's judgement, and came out a new person, truly her own.

And yet, confessing to (Y/N) was up there in the most stressful of tasks.

They were one of the few people to treat Furina normally after the truth was revealed, and actively stuck around in her life after the fact much to her relief.

(Y/N) treated her as a friend, first and foremost, even when she was still under the guise of an Archon.

Any time spent with them caused her heart to race, and before she realized it, she fell head over heels for them.

And with the disaster looming over Fontaine averted, Furina could finally follow her heart.

And that terrified Furina to no end.

(Furina) "Ugh...! Focus! It shouldn't be that hard!"

Shaking her head again, she decided to leave the mirror and flop onto her bed, face first.

It wouldn't really help, but it'd at least just get her distracted. At least it would've, if she didn't hear a knock on her door.

Not bothering to check or remove her face from the mattress, a very muffled-

(Furina) "Who is it?"

Answered the knock.

(Y/N's Voice) "Furina. Are you okay? I can barely hear you!"

Furina quickly rolled onto her back and shot up straight like a bullet, eyes widening in surprise.

(Furina) "(Y/N)?! Oh, um! A moment, please! I'm not decent yet!"

She cursed her clothes that were still drying, rapidly darting left and right to see if any of her fancy dresses were ready!

Why was this happening now?! (Y/N) was supposed to meet up with her tomorrow!

(Y/N) "I just came by to drop off some food, I had leftovers and figured you would want some! I can leave if you-"

(Furina) "N-NO! Don't!"

After realizing that she said that a little too fast, she quickly cleared her throat and attempted to compose herself.

(Furina) "I wished to talk to you about something, actually!"

Realizing what she just said, she could hear her inner self screaming.

(Furina) WAITWAITWAIT! Maybe if I can say, later, I can have time to-

(Y/N) "May I come in now?"

(Furina) "Yes! You may-"

(Furina) WHY IN THE HELL DID YOU SAY YES?! (Also Furina) I DON'T KNOOOOOWWW!

(Y/N) entered the room, putting aside a picnic basket on her drawer, before turning to Furina with a smile.

(Y/N) "Hah, dress still in the dryer?"

(Furina) "Tch, unfortunately! Though, I was not expecting anyone to show up today either."

(Y/N) just smiled at that and sat on her bed, growing a little more serious.

(Y/N) "What did you wanna talk about?"

Furina's heart threatened to bust from her chest, but she did her best to calm it down and sat next to them, a respectable distance away as well.

Taking one last deep breath, she closed her eyes and turned to (Y/N), giving them a stare and speaking directly from her heart.

(Furina) "I bike you."

(Y/N) remained still, hands still in their lap, and a moment of silence passing between the two of them.

Furina clenched her fists, watching to see if (Y/N) would react in any negative way.

After what seemed like an eternity, (Y/N) finally gave their answer:

(Y/N) "...Bike?"

(Furina) "...Eh?"

(Y/N) "You bike me?"

(Furina) I MESSED UP?! NONONONOTHISCAN'TBEHAPPENINGHOWCOULDIHAVEFLUBBEDTHISUPSOBAD?!ICANNEVERFACETHEMAGAIN-

(Y/N) mercifully noticing her face turn bright red, only chuckled lightly before trying to help calm her down, by grabbing her hands and squeezing them.

It seemed to have worked as Furina was anchored back into the real world instead of her self-berating thoughts, (Y/N) smiling softly.

(Y/N) "Do you want to try that again?"

With how carefully Furina's hands were being held, she was confused.

Did they...Return her feelings?

The way they were smiling, the way their eyes seemed to glow with affection.

A small smidge of confidence coming back to her, she again steeled herself and spoke slowly.

(Furina) "I like you, (Y/N). You mean more to me than just a friend. You have been by my side for all these years, and have never stepped away, no matter what came. Will...you continue to do so?'

Not knowing her heart could beat even faster, she saw (Y/N) nod, moving closer to close the gap.

(Y/N) "I'd love nothing more, if you'd have me."

The corner of Furina's eyes were pricked with tears, Furina immediately going in for a hug, one that (Y/N) happily reciprocated.

After a far too brief dozen or so seconds, they pulled back and just smiled at each other. Until (Y/N) spoke.

(Y/N) "I came in while you were practicing to say that, didn't I?"

Furina stammered, quickly pouting while her blush gave her away.

(Furina) "I didn't need to practice! I just needed to speak from the heart is all!"

(Y/N) "So bike is how you really feel about me then, huh?"

(Furina) "D-DON'T TEASE ME!"

Furina squeaked when (Y/N) embraced her again, though after a defiant moment, she sighed and returned their affection, the two saying nothing and staying like that for a little while longer.

Even if it wasn't the way she intended, at least it ended happily.

...Maybe this was a better way to convey her feelings anyway.

==

Bonus:

The panel that directly inspired the dialogue in this ask

A/N: I wasn't even gonna mention this last part, but my writer's integrity refuses to pass that bit off as original. Credit where credit is due, it's from an original Doujin called "The Show Must Go On!" by an artist named Chicken. I cannot link the source because it's AHEM, a spicy one, but nevertheless! I found it too cute to not utilize! And also because that absolutely seems something Furina would do.