#there is no bin for us to grab. we wait and wait and wait

[starkeymeow]

❛ we make each other alive . .

does it matter if it hurts? ❜

I’M COMING, WAIT FOR ME.

PLOT you enter the hunger games a proud weapon of your district, only to find your sharpest blade is the boy beside you, and you’re not sure which one of you the capitol wants to break first.

CONTENT chapter twenty-five, best read in dark mode, rafe cameron x reader au, training day 2&3, a peak at plutarch, plotting, a bit of rafe and y/n content, peeta !! all platonic btw

main masterlist | series ml | tag list | previous

later that night, your entire body aches. your shoulders pull like they’ve been strung too tight and used as weapons, and your knuckles are a little bruised.

the bathroom mirror’s foggy with the shower you just took, and you’re standing at the sink brushing your teeth while rafe sits on the counter next to you, legs hanging, arms braced behind him as he leans back and watches.

he doesn’t say much at first. he just listens as you ramble through a mouthful of toothpaste.

“so johanna, right—” you pause to spit, “—we go into it thinking it’s just a warm-up, but she’s like . . . elbowing me like we’re in a bar fight. and then finnick’s off to the side like, ‘use your hips, not your face’, which by the way, i didn’t even know he knew how to fight without his trident—”

you glance over, brush hanging from your mouth.

rafe just grins, head tilted as he watches your reflection in the mirror. he doesn’t get half of what you’re saying. the foam muffles most of it and your words come out tangled, but he likes the sound of your voice anyway.

you rinse, sigh, then lean forward to wipe your mouth on the towel.

“anyway. i nearly took her head off at one point. kind of proud of that.”

rafe laughs a little under his breath, but then he quiets, gaze dropping to the floor.

“we need to talk to katniss,” he says. “make her trust us. get her to think about an alliance.”

you pause, and your eyes flick to him in the mirror. he’s still looking at the ground, like he doesn’t want to look up yet.

“did you talk to her at all today?” he asks.

you think about it as you chew the inside of your cheek. “unless you count her trying to kill me and you in a simulation . . . then no, not really.”

rafe finally looks up, scrunches his face in that way he does when he’s frustrated but can’t argue with the facts. he scratches the back of his buzzed head, groaning softly.

you pull open the bathroom drawer, digging for something, and lean against the sink next to him. “we’ve still got two more training days. we can figure something out.”

“yeah, and she still hates the capitol and we look like their mutts,” rafe mutters, “i mean, i doubt she’s just gonna shake hands ‘n hug it out with us because we smiled at her.”

you glance at him. “what about peeta?”

rafe makes a face. “what about him?”

“i don’t know. maybe we talk to him, see if he can help. he’s clearly close to her.”

he narrows his eyes. “you think he’d go for that?”

you shrug, “maybe. if we play it right. not fake or anything. just . . be honest, ‘n careful.”

he watches you for a second, then nods once, “could work.”

“or it could blow up in our faces.”

“also true.”

you’re both quiet for a minute. and you don’t say it out loud, but you both know it’s your best shot.

she needs to trust you, at least enough to keep you alive. or at least long enough for the plan to work. and if she doesn’t, you’ll be dead before you get the chance to try.

“okay, but let’s say peeta’s not interested,” you continue, grabbing a hair tie off the counter and wrapping it around your wrist. “what’s our backup?”

rafe stretches his legs out a little, thinking. “we could impress them in training tomorrow, get katniss to see we’re not threats.”

you toss the towel you were holding into the laundry bin, brushing your hands off before stepping over to him. his eyes follow you with that little awareness he always has.

you move to stand between his legs and rest your hands gently on his sweatpants. your palms start to slide up and down slowly, grounding yourself in the feel of him, in the way his muscles shift slightly under your thumbs.

“so we need to give her a reason,” you say softly, looking up into his eyes. “not just to team up, but to trust us. us specifically. everyone else is gunning for her to be allies, too, whether they’re in on the plan or not.”

“so you want to tell her the truth?” he asks.

“no,” you say immediately. then you hesitate. “maybe . . . like not the plan, just enough about us to let her know we’re not capitol pets.”

rafe’s jaw ticks slightly, and his hand comes up to rest lightly on your waist, fingers curling there. “we’d have to be careful. say too much and it’s dangerous.”

“say too little and she won’t buy it.”

his eyes scan yours. “you think she’d really team up with us?”

“i think,” you say quietly, “she’s more like me than anyone else in that gym, i feel like.”

his thumb brushes absentmindedly at your side. “yeah?”

you nod. “and if that’s true then she’ll know we’re not lying. she’ll feel it.”

rafe leans down a little, forehead nearly touching yours, “guess we better make her feel it then.”

you smile’s small, but your eyes don’t lose that focus. you’re thinking a thousand moves ahead. you let your hands smooth along his thighs again, slower now.

you lean in just enough to whisper, “then tomorro—” you barely finish saying it before rafe leans in and kisses you, probably to get your mind off of all the plan-talk, just for the night.

it’s slow, the kind of kiss that doesn’t need a reason. his hands settle at your hips and your fingers curl gently into the fabric of his shirt. you just kiss him back without thinking, just breathing him in.

he pulls back slightly, not far, just enough to slide his hand behind him and bring something around between the two of you. your lotion.

you blink, “. . . seriously?”

he grins, holding it right in front of your face like it’s a trophy. “you always forget.”

you give him a look, but you still reach down, grab the hem of your shirt, and tug it over your head. your back faces him now, bare under the low lights of your bathroom.

your thorns have been healed for years, but they still press under your skin like a memory that doesn’t wanna go away.

you gather your hair and sweep it to one shoulder as you hear him hop down behind you. he untwists the containers lid and scoops some lotion into his hands, then sets it aside.

his palms smooth gently across your back slowly. you close your eyes and melt under his touch. his thumbs sweep in small circles along your lower back, around the curve of your spine, staying mindful of each thorn. you swear he maps them every night like it’s the first time.

he doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. and when he’s finished, you turn back around to face him again, letting your shirt hang loosely in your hand. rafe’s gaze flicks downward instinctively, but then he lifts his eyes again, meeting yours.

“we have to get out,” you murmur. “someday. right?”

his eyes linger on you. there’s so much in his silence. you step up on your toes and kiss him again, but it’s gentle, like a promise, then you pull your shirt back on.

you wake up the next morning feeling like death’s counting backward.

it’s day two. another tick off the clock. another step closer to the arena, but you try not to think about it.

rafe’s already up. you catch sight of his figure in the kitchen, mid-conversation with brutus. you don’t say anything. you just wash your face and tie your hair back, eat whatever they put in front of you. cassaline talks too chipper and you nod along until it’s over. you aren’t rude, you just keep your focus elsewhere. that’s how you survive mornings like this. by not really being in them.

when you make it to the training center, you don’t even wait for rafe. you split off early, deciding to duck into one of the side survival rooms, just to get away from the crowded floor for a while. you let your fingers run along the wall absentmindedly before entering a room, then you stop.

at the back of the room, crouched over a bench with a tray of paints beside him, is peeta mellark.

he doesn’t notice you right away. his focus is fixed on his arm, paint streaking across his skin in long strokes with different shades, muted tones of gray and green and brown that start blending against each other. he’s camouflaging himself. or practicing, anyway.

you rub your palms against your leggings. your heart flutters, not because you’re nervous, but because you recognize the opportunity. it’s peeta mellark, sweetheart of the capitol, katniss’s other half, and more importantly, your in.

he glances up when he hears someone come in, expecting maybe a trainer or someone from an outlying district like him. his face changes slightly when he sees you. not in shock, but more like surprise. like he didn’t expect you of all people to walk up to him.

“hi,” you say, stepping closer.

he gives you a small smile, “hey.”

you peer down at his arm. “that’s amazing.”

he glances down like he forgot he was even doing something. “thanks,” he says, brushing his thumb along the inside of his wrist to blend one of the darker patches.

“so you did this?” you ask, even though the answer’s obvious. peeta doesn’t comment on how dumb the question sounds. he just shrugs a little, nods.

you crouch beside the bench, angling yourself to see the tray of paints. “how’d you even figure out how to blend into your surroundings like that?”

peeta dips his brush into one of the colors. “my mom always wanted me to be a baker so i used to decorate cakes for customers,” he says. “you learn a lot about color and detail that way.”

you raise your eyebrows, impressed. “so if you wanted to, you could probably disappear in this room.”

“i could try,” he says, still not quite looking at you.

you nod, looking up at him, “show me.”

he tilts his head, amused by the challenge, and then moves without saying a word. he presses his arm against the table again and smears a bit more color onto his exposed skin, runs a few lines across his fingers and forearm, and angles it to follow the pattern on the marbled surface. you blink, and suddenly, it’s like he’s gone if you’re far enough.

he’s right there. but the color, the way he’s blended himself into the countertop, it’s nearly flawless.

you exhale through your nose, a smile tugging at your mouth. “you’re good at that.”

“yeah, well. it’s not much.”

you shake your head slowly. “i mean it. most of us just throw knives or punch things. you make it . . .” your voice softens, “quiet . . . in here.”

peeta peers at you now. there’s something a little hesitant in the way he looks, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re joking or not. you aren’t.

his cheeks flush the faintest bit. “guess someone has to balance it out.”

you smile. “someone like you, then?”

he chuckles, ducking his head a little. “i think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in here.”

you tilt your head, watching him. “you’d think more people would be saying nice things to the golden boy of twelve.”

“you’d be surprised.”

you don’t push it or try to steer the conversation, but when he sits back down and starts repainting another patch on his arm, you quietly lean against the table beside him, resting your elbows on the surface, staying close.

something about the quiet around you both makes him lean back a little against the table, brush still between his fingers as he glances sideways at you.

you tilt your head slightly and murmur, “katniss is lucky to have you, you know.”

his gaze drops immediately to the floor, a shy smile tugging at his mouth. it’s small, almost like he’s trying not to acknowledge it, but it’s there. you raise your brows.

“what?” you ask, amused. “did i say something wrong?”

“no,” he says, quietly, rubbing his thumb over a patch of dry paint on his wrist. “it’s just . . . weird hearing you say that. it’s kind of surreal.”

you blink, letting out a light laugh. “what?”

“i . . .” he starts, “i used to watch your interviews, back when you won ‘cause they’d play your highlight reels all the time on tv. it was hard not to.”

your eyebrows lift a little. “seriously?”

he nods, sheepish. “the closest i’d ever come to you was when you came to twelve on your victory tour. i was there, in middle of the square with my brothers. i think it was snowing that day.”

you pause, then narrow your eyes at him like you’re trying to remember. “that was, what, seven years ago?”

he chuckles. “yeah.”

you glance at him, doing the math in your head. “how old were you?”

“ten,” he says with a wince.

you laugh again, “so you had a crush on me.”

he throws you a playful look. “it was more like . . . admiration.”

“sure,” you drawl, teasing him. “i’m sure every ten-year-old bakes a loaf of bread and imagines handing it to their favorite victor in the cold.”

“i would’ve,” he says, matter-of-fact, and for a moment, it’s quiet. you’re still smiling, but something about the honesty in his voice makes your heart soften. not in a romantic way, this isn’t that, but it’s still sweet. and it’s real. it’s something that belongs to a version of peeta that isn’t shaped by war or reaping bowls or televised deaths.

you reach over and nudge his free arm with your own. “well,” you say, “i guess it’s nice to know i made an impression.”

he smirks and glances up at you, and you see it now, why katniss trusts him. why even the capitol leans into his smile. then you shift just a little.

“and katniss?” you ask, the tone of your voice dipping slightly. you try to sound more genuine.

he looks over, and you watch the change in his face, the way his smile doesn’t really fall, but it freezes.

you continue before he can answer. “i’m sorry,” you say. “about all of this. about the quell.” you aren’t totally sure if it’s gotten to a point where they do love each other but everyone around you has practically assumed it’s all for show. but soulmates or not, the story was forced, and maybe there’s a chance it isn’t as forced now.

peeta looks away for a beat. his jaw tightens slightly, but then he nods. “thanks,” he says quietly. “it’s . . . been a lot.”

you don't push or don’t ask for more. instead, you just sit with it. then you offer him a softer smile. “for what it’s worth,” you say, taking a few steps toward the exit, “i think you’re stronger than people realize.”

he meets your eyes.

you pause once you’re a few paces away, spinning around on your heel to face him again. peeta’s still sitting there, paint drying across his arm, his brush loosely gripped in one hand. you tilt your head at him.

“come with me, we can train together,” you ask, waving your hand toward you. “we could spar. i’ll show you the ropes in case you’ll need it.”

he blinks, eyebrows lifting slightly. “in case i’ll need it?”

“you never know when you’ll need it in there.” you nod toward the main gym. “come on, baker boy. it’s time to show me what you got.”

his smile grows, surprised but not unwilling. “i should probably wash this off first.”

you’re already walking backward. “i’ll be on the mat.”

peeta watches you go, then looks down at the paint on his hands. he stands, a quiet laugh to himself, before turning toward the sinks.

you’ve got him hooked so far. not just to the plan, but to you. this is good.

you turn from peeta with a grin still stretched across your face, your fingers tap lightly at your side. but just as you reach the mouth of the door that opens into the training center, your gaze lifts.

you don’t know why, maybe it’s instinct, maybe it’s just a flicker of something in your periphery, but your eyes catch on the high glass window embedded in the gym wall. the gamemaker room, where they sit and analyze. your body stiffens before you can stop it.

they’re always watching, but there’s only one figure at the front right now.

plutarch heavensbee, who haymitch mentioned before is going to help you. finnick knows more about him than anyone though.

he’s seated with one elbow propped against the table, hand resting near his mouth like he’s thinking too hard for someone practically watching people play. but he’s not watching the room anymore. he’s watching you.

you freeze mid-step, just long enough to feel the tension in your shoulders. he doesn’t blink or flinch, but when you make eye contact, something shifts behind his gaze.

you narrow your eyes just a little. he looks normal, like not particularly threatening, like he could blend in anywhere. but you know better. haymitch’s words from days ago still echo in the back of your mind—we’re not the only ones. you didn’t know what to expect. but now here he is.

you give the smallest nod, just enough to acknowledge. it wouldn’t raise eyebrows to anyone else, but you watch how the corner of his mouth twitches in return. not a smile, exactly, but the shape of satisfaction. maybe even approval.

you turn again, breath steady, feet carrying you back into the main space. you're already scanning for rafe. you’ve got work to do. and now, you know someone else is watching your back.

your eyes scan quickly, searching for him. he’s usually standing at the maces like it’s his second home but he's not there. your steps start to slow as your gaze keeps moving, slipping toward the back of the gym, around the climbing structures and racks of knives. still nothing.

you press your hands to your hips, sighing under your breath. of course the one time you actually need to find him he’s decided to go rogue. you stay planted in the center for a second longer, eyes trailing across the room—

then a hand comes to your shoulder.

you whip around fast, already grabbing for whatever you don’t have on you, instincts kicking in before you even think, but the moment you see his face and his crooked smirk, that small arch of amusement in his brow, you exhale all at once.

rafe’s standing a little too close to be casual, but not enough to raise suspicion. you don’t realize you’re staring until he murmurs low under his breath, “relax. it’s just me.”

“you scared the shit out of me,” you say.

his smile deepens, then he leans in just a little closer, “i talked to her.”

you blink. “katniss?”

he nods, eyes flicking toward the rest of the gym before landing on yours again. “yeah. it wasn’t a long conversation. stubborn as hell, like haymitch said. i don’t think she likes eye contact, but . . . i think i got through to her a bit.”

you stare at him for a second, brows lifting in quiet shock before your hand instinctively reaches out, fingers curling around the sleeve of his arm.

“that’s perfect,” you say softly. “i literally just talked to peeta.”

his head tilts. “just now?”

“like— seconds ago. i’m gonna teach him hand-to-hand.”

you can see the shift in his expression instantly. he’s not annoyed or angry, but he’s amused. amused in that boyish, you’re mine sort of way that he doesn’t even try to hide. he tries to keep it subtle, keeps his lips pressed together like he’s thinking, but you see the corners turn up as he raises an eyebrow at you.

“oh,” he says slowly, “so you and lover boy are training together now?”

your head tilts with a grin already forming, and your grip on his arm drops only so you can place both palms against his chest and push him back half a step. “don’t start.”

he just laughs and grins wider now, his hands coming up briefly like he’s surrendering but it’s all in that teasing glint in his eyes. like i’m just saying. you shake your head but don’t say anything else.

then, over his shoulder, you catch sight of peeta stepping away from the camo station. he wipes his hands off against a towel slung over his shoulder, glancing around the gym before his gaze lands on you again.

your eyes flick back to rafe. “i’ll come find you after,” you promise.

he nods once, doesn’t stop looking at you, so you find his hand again, yours slipping into his naturally, fingers fitting between his for a few lingering seconds as you start to walk away.

“just try not to end up somewhere i can’t follow, a’right?” he says. “stay within reach today.”

you slide your arm across his until the tips of your fingers are the last thing touching. and still, you feel his eyes follow you.

you don’t look back until you’re almost to peeta. when you do, he’s still standing in the same spot, watching.

you smirk to yourself, then wink at him over your shoulder. peeta doesn’t notice. he’s already heading toward the mat. and just like that, you follow him.

by day three, you’ve found a rhythm. it’s not one you asked for, but one you’ve stopped resisting.

you walk into the gym before your escort or stylists can find something to fuss about, already tugging on your sleeve to fix where it’s twisted around your wrist again. rafe’s a few steps behind you, running a hand across his buzzed hair, yawning into his shoulder.

peeta’s easy to spot. he’s already got weights in his grip. you stop beside him, nodding toward the stack of plates.

“you wanna touch up on your fight skills again today?” you ask.

peeta grins as he reracks his bar. “thought i’d teach you something today.”

you raise a brow, shifting your weight onto one hip, curious. “oh yeah?”

he reaches over to grab a towel, swipes it across the back of his neck. “try sitting still for five minutes. we’ll start there.”

you snort. “i’d rather fight you again.”

he just nods toward one of the nearby survival rooms. “come on. you survived the arena, you can survive patience.”

your smirk widens, just slightly. you wave a lazy hand in the air, calling behind you, “i’ll be around,” to rafe without looking back. peeta glances at rafe too before following you.

across the gym, rafe’s gripping a barbell, his elbows flaring as he presses up again and again. he watches you go with peeta out of the corner of his eye, not really focusing on his own movement.

“that’s new,” finnick says behind him a few minutes later.

rafe exhales hard and racks the bar, turning to find finnick standing a few feet away, towel slung over his shoulder, arms crossed, eyes flickering toward the room you and peeta disappeared into.

“what?” rafe asks like he didn’t hear it even though he definitely did.

finnick doesn’t bother repeating himself. “you okay with that?”

rafe bends to grab his water bottle. “with what? peeta?”

finnick gives a half shrug, the kind that says you know exactly what i mean.

rafe unscrews the cap, drinks, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “it’s strategy.”

“sure it is.”

“it is.” rafe levels him with a look. “we need katniss. peeta’s our in. it’s working.”

finnick watches him, head tilted slightly, like he’s checking for cracks in a wall. “so you’re not bothered?”

rafe doesn’t answer right away. his hands stay gripping his water bottle, but his eyes have already drifted to the far end of the gym where you and peeta are.

you’re sitting now, elbows resting on your knees as you let peeta lean in, holding a small brush between his fingers. his hand comes up to your face without hesitation, and for once, you don’t flinch.

it surprises you. you can see it in the way your brows lift slightly, but you don’t move away. rafe’s watching all of it.

peeta smiles as he sweeps a faint streak of earthy green pigment under your jaw. “you’d be good at this if you slowed down,” he murmurs.

you snort softly. “sure. when have i ever done that?”

he leans back, expression amused, and offers you the brush which you take. your attempt is nothing like his. it’s messier, less thought-out. he doesn’t flinch either. he just blinks at you with that same easy gaze.

across the gym, rafe’s jaw flexes just once. he speaks without looking back at finnick, “if it means she gets out of this alive, i’ll let her charm every last person in this damn place.”

there’s a pause.

“she doesn’t even have to try,” finnick says finally. “that’s the thing.”

rafe exhales through his nose, but doesn’t say anything. then he picks the barbell back up.

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[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Could you do either Daryl D or Dean W for Secret Child? I feel like these two would fit that one greatly lol.

.⋆｡Moonlight｡⋆.

7k Follower Bingo

Daryl Dixon x plus size reader

Who knew the end of the world would finally bring you back to the man who gave you everything and nothing before leaving?

Warnings: mom!reader, secret kid, abandonment and its associated issues, swearing, angst, no walkers but mentions of them, prison!era, short but I might do a part 2 WC: 1.7k Minors DNI Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Fear and rage were not new emotions for you, in fact, they were old friends that loved to overstay their welcome. Yet, for mch of your life, you were grateful for that festering fire that never quite seemed to die; when your father decided that he no longer wanted to be a father, abandoning you at the ripe age of 7; when bullies relentlessly tortured you for nearly a decade; and especially when the man you thought loved you with all his heart vanished after you finally slept with him, leaving you with a void in your soul and his baby in your belly. Fear and rage were there for you, forcing you back to your feet, despite the physical or mental hurt, and pushed you forwards until all you had left was your anger.

And your baby.

“Mama.” A little hand wrapped around the front of your throat, choking you just enough to get your attention.

“Yes baby?” You delicately moved her hand down to your collarbone where her chubby fingers danced along your skin. She hummed against your back, inevitably wiping her nose on your shirt. You continued scrounging through the bin of clothes at the back of the mechanic shop you had stumbled across, waiting for her to find her words. Luna was getting too big for the meagre stash of toddler clothes you had grabbed before your apartment was overrun, so repurposing coveralls would have to do until you could find something else.

“Gonna eat home?” You pulled a smallish jumpsuit from the bin, should be easy enough to cut up to vaguely fit her. You tossed it towards the hiking backpack you were using for your things.

“Maybe. What do you think? Should we sleep over in a house or do some camping?” She liked ‘camping’, she got to stay up late, look at the stars and play the quiet game until she fell asleep in your arms. You had been lucky the past couple weeks, finding abandoned houses with enough canned food to last until the next one so it had been a while since you had to sleep in a car or on top of a truck with your baby. 

A little leg kicked at your side, quickly getting restless in her carrier. “Houz.” 

“Ok. House it is. What colour is it gonna be?” You bit back a groan as you straightened up, even after months of carrying her like this practically all day, your back still had yet to adapt. 

“Don’t know mama. Purgle?” You smiled despite the gnawing anxiety at the base of your skull. How long would this lucky streak last? How long would you be alone, raising your daughter in a world that was now only blood and pain? 

“Hmm purple. That would be very pretty. Do you think this purple house will have a…” You prompted as you took a step towards the bag, grabbing Luna’s foot playfully. Her tiny sneaker that was so cute it made your ovaries hurt, kicked against your palm as she half-heartedly attempted to escape your grasp.

“Book!” She squealed and redoubled her efforts to escape her prison. You laughed under your breath, of course that’s what she wanted most. Books were sacred to your little Luna considering you could only carry one or two at a time, she loved her bedtime stories more than anything in the world.

“I’m sure we can find you a book to read tonight baby. Maybe even two. But we have to play the quiet game for a little bit. Can you do that for me?” A firm nod against your spine was the only answer you needed to grab the handle of the back pack and swing it over your shoulders, effectively concealing Luna from the world. Quiet and hidden meant she was safe, she knew that well.

You still had a couple hours of daylight to find a refuge for the night, should be more than enough if you moved fast. The garage doors remained open, like you left them, but the car that you had passed on your way in now had the trunk popped. Fear began to rear its head, purring happily as you laid your hand on the handle of the large hunting knife hanging from your hip. One of the dead couldn’t have done that, and you wouldn’t let the living even get a chance to notice you were there.

There was no exit out the back, the door in the office had been sealed shut with age, and you definitely couldn’t squeeze through a window. So out the front was the only way. You tightened the straps on Luna’s baby carrier, pulling her closer to you. She gave a small grumble of protest, her tiny fists pressing to your shoulder blades but then settled again. You kept your steps light, your head on a swivel.

The street was clear save for a pickup truck at the end of the block, you could see it as you crept to the garage door. There was a library around the corner in the opposite direction, you could make it if you ran hard. Just as your back foot planted, a click sounded from right behind your head.

“Don’t.” You froze, muscles still tensed for your run. “Turn around. Hand off the knife.” You obeyed however unwillingly. A bullet moved a hell of a lot faster than you. Lull him into a false sense of security, look for a weak point, run. 

He was older but not old— greying hair, built physique, the showy gun in his hands was too sure to be something he wasn’t familiar with. His blue eyes scanned the length of your body but there was no lust or menace in it, like he was searching for injuries. “‘M not gonna hurt you. Are you alone?”

You kept your mouth shut and the man sighed. “You are. Look, we have a safe place; the prison just outside town. We can take you there, let you rest for a while.” 

“We?” His shoulders dropped, a warm smile growing on his lips.

“Yeah, me and my friend. There’s women and children, walls, and fresh water. You’ve been alone a while I’m guessing?” Something about him eased the biting fear in your chest. You finally stood up straight, dropping your hands back down to your sides.

“Name?” He chuckled as if he expected the question sooner, holding out his hand to shake after returning his gun to its holster. You ignored the gesture which he didn’t seem to mind.

“Rick Grimes.” A tiny foot jammed into your side as Luna sat up, her chin perching on your shoulder. “You’ve got a kid.” The man’s eyes went wide, his stance faltering.

“Thank you captain obvious, anything else you want to comment on?” You took a hold of her foot, shaking it as if to reassure both her and yourself that things were ok. Rick’s smile softened. “You got one?”

“Two. Oldest is 14, youngest is a couple months.” Your eyebrows raised. “Yours?” He gestured to Luna who was now trying her darndest to pull herself over your shoulder.

“Almost 2.” 

“Mama.” She whined but you gently shushed her, craning your neck to press a kiss to the plump swell of her cheek which calmed her down enough to at least stop kicking your ribs.

“She’s cute. What’s her-“

“Rick! Where the hell… are-“ The rasp of another voice grated against your ears though it was so intimately familiar. You whipped around to find exactly the man you thought was there, the last person you had let hurt you. 

“Daryl.” His eyes widened, those icy blues you loved so much reminding you of why you had a toddler nestled against you. You hated them now.

He physically stumbled, the crossbow in his hands falling to the street with a clatter. “I-“

Daryl finally looked past you and to the baby hanging off your back with a face identical to his own with your eyes. “I called you.” You snarled, chest puffing up. The pain of those first few weeks alone and terrified sparked up your nerves. “I called you, I begged you to come back.”

“She’s-“

“Yeah she’s fucking yours, you’d have known if you bothered to find me.” Luna whined louder, grabbing at your neck as her distress mounted. You didn’t hesitate to throw off the back pack and retrieve her from the carrier. She curled into your chest, tears quickly soaking through your shirt. 

Her tears doused the fire of your fury, the last of the smoke leaving your lungs. “You left.” 

The hunter deflated at the sight of her, his scarred hands flexing with the urge to reach out and touch her, or maybe to run once more. “I had ta.” He avoided your gaze, instead looking at Rick.

“You fucking-“

“Hey.” Rick stepped between you. “Let’s get you two to the prison and then we can have this talk. Sun’s goin down soon, we’ll need to go now if we don’t want to drive in the dark.” You nodded and he grabbed your bag, swinging it onto his shoulder. 

“Yer comin with m- us?” Daryl sounded hopeful, voice soft as Luna finally calmed down, her eyelids fluttering with the weight of sleep. You almost cursed him out again but Rick was right, you could kill him later when you’ve had a full night’s sleep and some real food.

“Guess so. It’s not just me out here, if it was, I would’ve shot you.” He nodded dutifully and picked up the crossbow. 

“I know.” Daryl whispered, giving you space as you walked past him but you knew he was watching each step you took. Your rage and fear had driven you for so long, letting your mind take a backseat when things began to hurt you but something else inside of your heart began to grow in the twilight of that spring day, nestling itself beside them like moonlight emerging from dark clouds. You knew he would grovel and beg for forgiveness but never try to excuse his actions, that when it came down to it, Daryl would step up. Because he knew of rage and fear but he also knew of the silvery, cool light of hope.

You could only steel yourself for the day that those raging fires died and Luna and her father reminded you of why you loved in the first place.

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[numbersq-blog]

It doesn’t count if they’re already technically dead

Young justice and captain marvel are trapped in a ancient magical cube with the only way to escape being a human sacrifice.

Impulse is running all around the cube panicking, Nightwing and Robin (Tim) are inspecting the wall hoping to find a exit, Zatanna tired using her magic to break through the wall, both Superboy and Wonder Girl tried punching the wall.

Impulse: “What are we going to do!!?!?!”

Nightwing: “stay calm, I managed to hit my emergency distress signal before all our devices stopped working. We just have to wait rest of the team to come out and get us out”

Captain Marvel: “No”

Everyone turns to look at him, Zatanna’s face has turned pale.

Captain Marvel: “ it requires a human sacrifice, the spell that trap us is old but strong.

Wonder Girl: “which means?” *her voice comes out in a tense, whisper, most likely to scared for the answer

Captain Marvel: “There is no work around, we must follow the rules”

The room grows tense

Nightwing grabs one of his escrima sticks

Nightwing: “what are you getting at”

.

.

.

Superboy: “let’s calm down-“

Cap: “Good thing my pocket dimension bag is still working!”

Marvel smiles and pulls out a bag out of thin air.

Robin: “wha-“

Marvel opens up the bag, turns the bag upside down and starts shaking

A confuse and sacred Hitler falls out.

WO BIN ICH?!? (Where am I)

Nightwing: “is-is that…..Hitler?”

Cap: “Yes”

Robin: “…………….WHY”

Cap: “ I don’t know because he was born?!”

Robin: “ NO, WHY DO YOU HAVE HITLER”

WIE VIELE JAHRE IST ES HER!?!? (how many years has it been?)

Cap: “Stille (hush), in case I was ever in the situation where I need a human sacrifice”

He says,as it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Zatanna: “why”

WG: “yeah Cap, this seems kinda messed up”

Neither of them could take their eyes off Hitler.

Cap: “first, this is Hitler, anything bad that happens to Hitler after 1933, he deserve it, second, as stated before in case I was ever in a situat-“

Robin: “NO, SHE MEANS WHY DO YOU HAVE HITLER??!?!!!?”

Impulse: “yeah Cap, how and why do you have Hitler, didn’t he |<i|| himself”

Nightwing: “yeah Cap, how did you get him”

Cap: “ well it’s actually a pretty funny story-“

SB: “I don’t believe that”

Cap: “ first I was in history class learned about him, fast-forward, junior got trapped in one of these human sacrifices-we got him out safe- and it sparked the ✨iiiiddeaaa~~✨

Robin: “please don’t”

Cap: “I go back in time, grab evil people, who were gonna die soon, keep them in the bag till they’re needed and after am done with them I send them back.”

YJ:……

Impulse:”nothing in there was funny”

Cap: “FINE WHATEVER, lets just kill the guy”

“so viele Tage, so viele Jahre, so viele Sekunden” (So many days, so many years, so many seconds)

Nightwing who understands German, squint his eyes

Nightwing: “wait a sec, Marvel was he conscious the whole time he was in there”

Cap: “ummmmmmmmmmmmm”

WG: “oh my gods”

SB: “Marvel!”

Cap: “I don’t know, they all come out, screaming or looking confused or terrified, but I usually kill them by now”

Zatanna: “terrified of what?”

Cap: “I DON’T KNOW”

Robin: “Marvel! How long has he been in there!”

Cap: “ I don’t know, bag time works differently from earth time”

YJ: “MARVEL!”

Cap: “WHAT, WHY AM I GETTING YELLED AT, YOU GUYS ARE THE ONES FEELING BAD FOR HITLER, I know he technically didn’t say to start killing the Jews. He only said to put them in camps, but still and he did whole lot of other bad things!”

WG: “ WE ARE NOT FEELING BAD FOR HITLER!”

Robin: “WE’RE UPSET BECAUSE THIS IS A MESSED UP SYSTEM!”

Cap: “HOW IS IT A MESSED UP SYSTEM, THEY WERE BAD PEOPLE, THEY WERE ALREADY GOING TO DIED AND THIS GUY CHOSE TO TAKE HIS LIFE”

“endlos schwebend”(floating endlessly)

Cap: “SHUT UP”

SB: “I get the idea, but if their consci-“

Cap: “HE MURDER PEOPLE!!

Cap: “……..”

Nightwing: “………”

Robin: “………”

Zatanna: “………”

WG: “………”

Impulse: “………”

SB: “………”

WG: “Cap, please”

Cap: “fine we’re send him back and die”

Marvel opens the bad, really to shove hitler back

“NEIN, DER TOD IST EINE OPTION ALS DER ENDLOSEN ABGRUND” (no, this is a kinder option than the endless abyss”

Marvel turns and looks Nightwing

Nightwing; *sign* “ let’s get it over with”

Cap: “YES”

————————————————————————

Batman and the rest of young justice

Batman: “Nightwing, we got your distressed signal what happened?”

Everyone but Marvel looks exhausted and a bit traumatized

Beast Boy: “what happened?”

Nightwing: “Don’t ask”

Used google translate

[marvelstoriesepic]

Beneath the constellations

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bucky x Scared of needles!Reader

Summary: You are a needle-phobic but somehow agree to get a small, meaningful friendship tattoo with your best friends Darcy and Jane.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Needle phobia; mild panic; anxiety; physical discomfort; descriptions of a tattoo needle; nervous rambling; comfort

Author’s Note: This again is a request from one of my sweetest mutuals! I adore you, my dear and I hope you like what I did with your interesting and so creative idea ♡

2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist | Masterlist

Your knee is bouncing. Your heart is racing. The design is folded up in your hands - a little tattoo that is so simple, tiny, meaningful - but your palms are sweaty and you can’t stop assaulting the inside of your cheek with your teeth.

The walls of the tattoo parlor are soft with shadows. Dark navy paint. There is low music humming along but it’s not soothing anything inside you. Sterilization hangs in the air and there’s also ink and something smoky - cedarwood or sage. It stays at the back of your throat like a ghost you swallowed by accident.

The waiting room is actually pretty aesthetically pleasant but you feel like choking on your own spit.

The cold vinyl bench beneath you vibrates with your leg rapidly moving up and down and up and down.

“I can’t do this,” you mutter lowly. “Oh my god. I’m gonna pass out.”

Darcy, sitting on your left, gives you a smile that doesn’t ease you at all. “You’re not getting open-heart surgery, babe. You’ve got to chill your beans.”

Jane, sitting on your right, grabs your leg to still its movement. She probably got annoyed at being shaken with the whole bench. “It’s so small, I’m sure you will barely feel it,” she tries to reassure you.

Darcy nudges you. “And it will stay on your body forever.”

“This is not helping at all, Darc,” you half whine, half grumble. “Can’t we just make this temporary, or something? Like, I don’t know, draw it on with a sharpie?”

“Hell nah,” Darcy complains. “This is for life,” she goes on, pointing wildly at all of you three. “We are going to seal the deal. Make it forever, officially.”

You want to laugh. Or scream. Or run. Or disappear.

A part of you thought this would be fine. That you could sit here like a normal adult with a normal nervous system and be needled with grace and honor. That the tattoo you promised you’d get with your best friends - the tiny one, the subtle one, the one you talked about under a summer sky, lying on your backs in a parking lot eating cold fries - would somehow feel like a small ceremony. Like something important.

Instead, your palms are damp and your stomach is a washing machine of dread and iced coffee. It turns round and round and round in circles, making you instinctively look for a nearby trash bin.

The door creaks open.

And then he walks in.

Bucky Barnes, according to the framed certifications on the wall. Also according to Darcy, who not-so-subtly whispered oh my god he’s hot when you walked in earlier and now leans in to your ear, to whisper “oh my god, he’s even hotter in person.”

He’s broad-shouldered and tall. Black tee, black jeans. Arms inked to the wrists in clean, complex lines. Geometric patterns like armor. You spot a white wolf curled around a blooming branch. A forget-me-not. The tattoo work is detailed. Almost luminous. An artwork of constellations on his skin, coiling like a secret he’s allowing the world to glimpse.

He looks at you.

You stop breathing.

“You ready?” he asks, voice a low rasp.

You make a sound that might be English. Might be a prayer. Might be a dying animal.

He blinks, then smiles. Just a little tug at the corner of his lip.

“Maybe one of you should go first,” you say to your friends quietly, voice barely hanging on.

“It’s not the gallows, babe,” Darcy muses, nudging you again.

“I know, but I-”

Jane cuts you a dry look, interrupting. “You made us matching Google Calenders for this.”

“I was drunk on sentiment and pinterest,” you argue but it’s useless.

“No stalling. You can’t back out now.“

“I’m not backing out,” you grumble. “I’m delegating the trauma.”

But they’re not moving. Not budging.

You indignantly get up. Slowly. Darcy leans over and smiles sharply, mischievously. “Hey, just ask if you can hold his hand during the act.”

You choke. On air. On dignity. On the sudden imagine of his fingers wrapped around yours. And you’re up, throwing her a last glare that lacks all the heat.

You turn to Bucky and he is full-on smirking now. Though his voice is not mocking.

“We can take our time,” he says gently, and gestures toward the door that will, as you can imagine, lead you to the torture chamber. Yes, that’s dramatic. Yes, you don’t care. Yes, you are spiraling.

After sending your friends a panicked look and them not that supportively giving you thumbs up in return while grinning brightly, you follow him as if you’re approaching your own funeral.

You walk like you’re made of wires and wet paper. Trailing behind him into the back room, your chest beating out the morse code for panic.

The chair is deceptively comfortable. Everything is clean and neat and doesn’t smell scary but your heart is beating so loud, you think it’s bruising your ribs.

He sits down on a stool, brings it closer to you with one hand, and adjusts his gloves. He moves slowly, most definitely for your sake.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt. “I’m being ridiculous.”

“You’re not,” he says, soft and even. “You’d be surprised how many people get nervous.”

You inhale. Exhale. Fail.

“I’m Bucky,” he says easily, glancing at you with eyes the color of melted steel and winter storms. You give him your name and he smiles. “What are we doing today?”

You fumble with the paper in your hands, clumsy movements lifting it to show him.

It’s stupid, honestly. Three tiny constellations in a delicate arc. Only a little bigger than a thumbnail. Barely enough to be called a tattoo.

He leans closer to look. His knee brushes yours and you hold your breath.

“I know it’s small. It’s dumb. I mean, not dumb, like-”

Bucky waits.

Silent. Patient. The corner of his mouth tilts up.

“It’s three constellations.” The words tumble out of you, messy and fast. As if trying to explain your favorite dream to a stranger who wasn’t there. “Mine, Jane’s, and Darcy’s. We got stranded once during a road trip, out in the middle of nowhere, and the car battery died. So we laid on the hood, freezing our asses off, and waited for a tow truck under this crazy clear sky. Jane started pointing out stars and we found our constellations. And we just talked. About everything. So we-”

You stop.

Because you’re talking too much. Because your face is hot. Because he’s watching you as if he’s listening.

And Bucky only smiles. Just this small, warm curve of his mouth that feels like praise.

You blink too hard. Look down at your hands.

“It’s silly.” You just can’t help explaining yourself. “I know it’s barely anything. And it’s not even a real design, really. I’m not even supposed to be here, I mean-”

You stop again. Press your lips together.

He’s still looking at you. Calm. Not judging. Not laughing.

“You were saying?” he asks, voice quiet.

You breathe in a shaky breath.

“I’m scared of needles,” you admit embarrassed. “Like. Deeply, irrationally scared. I had to get a flu shot once and almost took out the poor nurse with my bag.”

Bucky huffs out a short and amused laugh, but his eyes are genuine and sympathetic. He nods like that’s the most normal thing anyone’s ever said.

“It’s not dumb, sweetheart. Nor is it silly.” You’d be on the floor if you were standing up. “I like it,” he says earnestly. “Three stars. Three best friends. Kind of poetic.”

“Yeah, it’s-” you stammer. “It means a lot to us.”

“That’s nice to hear.” His eyes rake over you so intensely, so sincere. “Some of the best tattoos I've done were barely the size of a freckle.”

You don’t know if he’s saying this to make you feel better, but either way, you are not sure it helps.

You feel like your skin is trying to slip off your body.

He opens the packaging with quiet and sure movements that still seem to be a little slower than he would probably be normally.

“I tattoo six-foot-tall dudes who pass out cold,” he starts soothingly. “You’re sittin’ here, scared, and still doing it. That’s brave.” He says it so simply.

You stare at him. Try to believe it.

“May I?” he asks, looking up at you, and gesturing toward your arm.

You nod. Too fast.

He reaches out carefully like you’re glass and holy.

His fingers are warm. Gentle. He adjusts your wrist, turning it slightly toward the light. It feels like gravity has shifted. Like the earth tipped a little, just to watch this happen.

His thumb brushes against the inside of your forearm, where your pulse is having a complete existential crisis. His touch might be absentminded but it sparks something that goes way too deep. A tremor. A stormcloud. A sigh under your skin.

“Right here okay?” he asks, voice low.

You swallow. “Yeah. That’s good. That’s perfect.”

The needle glints in the light like a tiny sword ready to tear apart your skin.

“You sure?”

“No,” you say honestly, voice a little unstable. “But I’m doing it anyway.”

He chuckles under his breath and his smile changes, gets softer, younger.

You let out a breath. Try to remember the sky that night, the way the stars felt close enough to kiss. But there’s something else you’d rather kiss right no-

“I’ll go slow. And I’ll be gentle. Promise,” he says, almost under his breath. “Just breathe.”

You nod. Let him see the fear. Let him see you choose it away.

He turns on the machine. Your hand is shaking. The buzz rings in your ears.

He touches your arm again. Carefully. Steadying you. Taking in an exaggerated breath for you to follow.

“Tell me if you need a break,” he states softly, but there is something else in his tone. “Or, you know. If you want to hold my hand.”

You freeze. Not sure if you heard that right. Your brain is a flock of birds flapping around your skull.

“I- What?”

He smiles. Not teasing. Not smug. It’s soft. It’s kind.

“Some people do better with a distraction,” he says like it’s no big deal. So casual, but his undertone makes you promise yourself to punch Darcy Lewis later on.

You stare at him for a second too long, not sure if he is even serious. You feel like you’ve been thrown into a different body. One that’s nervous and melting and acutely aware of every square inch of air between you.

His palm lays open as an invitation. Looking so soft and callous at the same time.

“Can you even do this with one hand?” you ask cautiously.

He smirks. “You bet I can, darling.”

After a patient moment, you reach out, fingers finding his, and he shifts just enough to meet you halfway. His grip is loose and open, letting you decide how much to hold on.

And you do. Not tight. But not soft either.

It’s safe.

He starts.

The needle meets your skin sharp and sudden, but it doesn’t feel unbearable. You’re too focused on the fact that you’re literally holding hands with the hottest guy you’ve seen in a long while. Maybe ever. His thumb has started tracing circles on the back of yours.

You’re not sure how much time passes. Minutes stretch and snap and vanish but then it’s over.

The buzz stops. The silence blooms around you.

You blink down at your wrist, skin warm and reddened and wrapped in something tiny and starborn. Three constellations, nestled close.

He wipes it gently, thumb brushing away excess ink with a kind of care that makes you want to cry.

“It’s beautiful,” he says. Quiet. Like it’s just for you.

You don’t even realize he’s still holding your hand until he gives it a squeeze and pulls away to grab a mirror.

You almost say wait.

He places the mirror in your hand.

Your breath is lost somewhere deep when you look down at your inked skin. It’s so small. So perfect. Exactly what you hoped for, only softer now. As if it’s always been there. Meant to stay forever.

You glance up at him.

His eyes are warm. Curious. “Took it like a champ,” he says.

You shrug, a little shyly. “I didn’t faint. So that’s a win.”

He lets out a low chuckle. The sound does things to you.

“I’ve seen people pass out from paper cuts. You’re fine,” he assures.

You don’t know what to do with that or the heat pooling at your neck, so you look down again. Tracing the constellations with your eyes like you’re learning to read a new kind of language.

“Thank you,” you offer, and it’s not just for the ink. It’s for the kindness. The patience. The hand-holding. The compassion. “I love it.”

“No need to thank me, darling.”

He takes a few more moments studying you before peeling off his gloves and standing up.

You stand too. Your legs wobble a little, traitorous and unsure, and his hand hovers near your back.

You don’t say anything.

But you feel it.

All of it.

The warmth.

The hush.

The stars, still burning softly beneath your skin.

[200mark]

⌗ random night-time scenarios with the dreamies

SCENE .. “come here and give me kiss, please.”

꒰ DETAILS ꒱ boyfriend!dream & fem!rea ⋮ ♯ file 000. established relationship, scenarios, petnames && fluff ᵔⰙᵔ

♡ entry .. hi! this is my first post on tumblr! not new to tumblr but i definitely never uploaded my works before and suddenly i’ve gotten the confidence to do so. let me know if you all like this, my plan is to post more in the future. also i apologize in advance for the lack of dialogue in some of these, i did proofread but may still be errors!

more of nct dream

MARK LEE

it was cold in your shared apartment, not an uncomfortable cold but cold enough for you to want your boyfriend’s warmth and he was more than willing to give it to you. you’re both cuddled up against the headboard of your bed he’s flicking through channels trying to find something to watch and you’re laid against his shoulder playing with the edge of his shirt. “wait go back to that other channel, what was that?” you spoke softly the room was rather quiet except for the faint humming sounds of the air conditioner that can be heard from your bedroom, mark causally flicked back to the previous channels until you stopped him. the channel was on commercial and it was no telling how long it would be until the original show or movie that was airing would come back on. mark placed the remote on the night stand beside the bed and adjusted his position against the headboard causing you to sit up before he pulling you back towards him. this time his hand found your hip, he gave it a squeeze before rubbing his thumb gently against the skin. you both stayed like that, the silence was comfortable, the faint sound of the air conditioner, the sound of the tv and the sound of both of you breathing was all you both needed, what was on the tv no longer mattered just the quality time that was happening.

HUANG RENJUN

“junnie, did you say you wanted a fork or chopsticks?” you speak from the kitchen, you’re looking through the drawers trying to find a fork just in case that’s what he asked for. you both decided to get takeout tonight neither one of you were in a cooking mood so this was the best option if you two were gonna eat. you made your way back into the living room sitting beside renjun on the couch, “we don’t have any clean forks no one washed the dishes” you chuckled “so we both have to use chopsticks,” “and if i remember correctly it was your turn to wash the dishes? hm?” he asked before putting some of the food in his mouth, “well there’s a logical explanation for why i didn’t wash them!” you tried defending yourself, “and that is…” “i don’t know i didn’t think that far ahead,” you shrugged which caused him to laugh and he laughed so hard he started choking which caused you to laugh while patting his back telling him to stop laughing. it was moments like this, that made you whole or more so content. sharing a laugh with the person you love and sharing food with the person you love was more than enough for you.

LEE JENO

it was a little past 8pm, and both you and jeno are in the bathroom, you’re brushing your teeth and jeno is standing there watching and waiting for you to finish. you spit into the sink turning the water on washing the sink out briefly “you ready?” jeno spoke and you shake your head “not yeah i need to add some moisturizer on my face, can you look in that bin for me please, the bottle is white with a purple lid.” he nodded and walked over to the bin which you pointed at and looked through it, you washed your face with a rag gently patting your face “this one?” he asked, holding up the exact bottle you described you remove the towel from your face and squint in his direction before nodding and he walks over to you place the items on the counter. you toss the rag into the hamper and pump a few drops of the moisturizer onto your face before rubbing it in, “baby, can you please grab my glasses out the kitchen i believe they’re still sitting on the counter.” “ugh, you’re having me do everything tonight why can’t we just lay down?” he begins walking over to you. he picks you up and places you on the counter knocking the moisturizer over in the process, he stood in between your legs his eyes scanned your face like he was looking for something, he wrapped his arms around your body burying his face in your neck “mmm, you smell good.” his voice muffled against your neck, which caused you to giggle at the feeling of his breath on your neck. you’re still wondering if he’s going to go get your glasses or not.

LEE DONG HYUCK

“do you hate me? like seriously.” haechan asks you’re both laying on the couch, his head resting in between your legs, “hmm? why would you ask that unprovoked?” “not unprovoked, you’re scrolling on tiktok when you’re loving boyfriend is right here. unless i’m invisible.” he pouts and you laugh but it’s more like a ‘you’re cute’ laugh, “okay fine hyuck, my attention is all yours,” he shakes his head still pouting, “i just want you to rub my scalp you don’t have to get off tiktok,” “so why didn’t you just say that???” you shake your head, “i have to be dramatic first… you know this.” he gives your thigh a light squeeze, you run your fingers through his hair and he let out a satisfied hum. you go back to scrolling through tiktoks still rubbing his scalp gradually stopping then continuing and haechan is watching whatever is on the tv slowly dozing off at the feeling of your hand running through his scalp. “mmm, focus baby” haechan mumbled you definitely didn’t realize that your hand was no longer rubbing his head “whoops my bad,” and you go back to rubbing his scalp again a few more minutes go by and you stop without realizing again “okay maybe you should give me your full attention, i want to fall asleep but every time i’m about to you stop rubbing my scalp.” he whines, “hyuck my attention is all yours.” you place your phone down beside so that you can give your full undivided attention to him so that he can fall asleep.

NA JAEMIN

“jaem.. are you sleep?” you whispered, you both are laying down in the bed his arm draped over your waist his body pressed against yours and you’re uncomfortable but you don’t want to tell jaemin that you want to wait until he shifts then you’ll move but he hasn’t moved in hours and you still haven’t fallen asleep, “jaem…” you say a little louder and he groans, “i’m uncomfortable,” “turn over then sweets.” he spoke in his half conscious state, and you do as he said turning over, your both face to face expect he’s sleeping. you stare at his face for a while before pressing a few kisses along his jawline and a few on his face, “what are you doing?” he mumbled “kissing you,” “well i know that… why aren't you sleeping?” he slowly blinks awake and your eyes meet “i couldn’t sleep i was uncomfortable and i didn’t want to wake you.” your hand rests against his cheek and he shakes his head, “you could’ve just turned over,” “but you’re a light sleeper i would have woken you.” you said your voice soft, “so you’ll lose sleep because i’m a light sleeper?” he chuckles then placed a kiss on your forehead, “let me be little spoon maybe that’ll help you sleep.” he turned over and you wrapped your arms around his body, your head pressed against his back and you slowly dozed off to sleep.

ZHONG CHENLE

“lele it’s cold out here,” you shivered and he looked at you and laughed, “did i not tell you to bring a jacket?” and you nodded, “here” he took off his jacket handing it to you and you quickly put it on. it was late but chenle wanted to give daegal one last chance to use the bathroom before he goes to bed, “and what if she doesn’t pee this time?” you asked, being sarcastic, “then she’ll pee on the floors and YOU will clean it.” he laughed but you didn't, which only made him laugh harder, “i’m joking” he said still laughing “that joke must’ve really tickled you huh? your ears are red and everything.” he gently grabbed your arm pulling you towards him placing his arm around your shoulders, he sighed leaning his head on top of yours. “you’re still shivering am now i’m shivering seeing you shiver,” he said “yeah i’m like 99.99% sure that’s not how that works, wanna share the jack-” and before you could finish he was already forcing himself inside the jacket with you, “daegal hurry, mom and dad are VERY cold,” he said laughing and you laughed along with him. “yes please hurry, before lele turns into a popsicle his ears are turning red again.” you spoke but your teeth were clinging together because of how cold you were, chenle blew his breath in your face jokingly attempting to warm you up. “lele you’re such a weirdo! your breath is usually hot i guess not this time,” and you fake pout causing him to laugh and eventually daegal goes to the bathroom and you two head inside for the night.

PARK JISUNG

“ji get the eggs out the refrigerator,” he nods, moving past you to get to the fridge. it’s 1am and jisung woke up hungry and so did you so what better way to fix that than some late night ramen? he passes you two eggs before rubbing his stomach “my belly is so empty,” and you giggle “you know hunger is just a mind thing? if you think you’re hungry of course you’ll be hungry.” “wait really?” you nod, “being hungry is a mental thing cause if you aren’t thinking about wanting to eat the feeling will subside.” “so basically i can have your noodles?” he says jokingly and hou both share a laugh, “you wish! especially with me being the one who’s cooking them.” he sighs, he grabs two bowls out of the cabinet “forks or chopsticks?” “uhm, i want a fork,” he nods. you yawn putting noodles into the bowls you add the eggs to the bowls then hand one over to jisung who was already seated on the bar stool, he eats some of the noodles letting out a satisfied ‘mmm’ “i don’t think i’ll be able to enjoy these noodles since i’m so sleepy,” jisung smiles at you, “come here” and you walk over to him with your bowl in your hands, “at least take a few bites then we can go back and lay down, it’s super late at least eat these so that you won’t be hungry again in a few hours.” he said then pressed a kiss on your cheek, “fine.” and you eat some of your noodles “cute, your cheeks are full of noodles” he laughs, “ready to go lay down?” and you nod, you grab his arm and follow close behind him into the bedroom.

[roosterforme]

Mail Call | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After a long and illustrious Naval career, Bradley was used to months spent on an aircraft carrier. Nothing ever felt quite as good as a letter from home. He thought he knew what to expect this time, but you always made things more exciting.

Warnings: adult language, masturbation, horny love letter

Length: 2500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley had been in the Navy long enough to know when to expect a mail call. Maybe it was intuition or a sixth sense, but after so many years of deployments, he was certain. When he woke up on Tuesday, something told him to start getting excited. There would be a box with his name written in a familiar scrawl in his hands soon. "Commander Bradshaw." He turned to see a petty officer jogging along the interior corridor of the aircraft carrier with a clipboard in hand. "Sir, here's your schedule for the day." Bradley grunted and skimmed the sheet as he made his way up to the tower. The lightness he felt mere moments ago was replaced by annoyance. Back-to-back meetings filled every inch of the sheet, including a meeting that was scheduled for after dinner.

"Damn it," he muttered, taking the stairs two at a time. His plan to collect his parcel, enjoy a meal, and then head to his private bunk to read the letter was dashed. But he was still convinced that a Comanche helicopter would touch down on deck at some point this afternoon if the weather permitted. He'd get his mail when he could. He needed to wait a little longer to hear from you, which would make him grouchy in the interim.When he pushed open the heavy door to the tower, he greeted the collection of older officers by uttering just one word. "Admirals."

They all greeted him in response with a chorus of overworked voices, and then another clipboard was thrust into his hand. Attached to this one was a sheet detailing the flight schedules for the day, and sure enough, a smile curled along his lips below his mustache when he saw that a Comanche was slated to arrive at 1500 hours with the note US Airmail Transport.

God, a letter from you was sounding better by the minute. Your tone would be soft. You'd tell him how much you missed him. There would be something in there from-

"Commander Bradshaw. Let's get started with your pilots."

His musings were cut short, and he sighed before slipping the offered headset into place and testing out the comms. He was in charge of the training exercises for this deployment, and he needed to keep his mind clear so he could keep his aviators safe. It would do him no good to be focused on what might be happening back at home. He could read about it later.

But as the day wore on, the sky darkened, and storm clouds painted the horizon. When he called his team back to the carrier and watched them land one at a time, he asked the admirals, "Should we check in with the mail transport? It seems to have gone off schedule."

Lightning cut across the sky just as the comms crackled to life with a new voice. "This is Comanche. We're coming in low from the east, trying to avoid the rain. Are we clear to make a quick landing in seventeen minutes?"

Bradley listened to the air traffic team guide the helicopter in, and sure enough, the landing was low and loud, followed by another crack of lightning. He watched from his high vantage point as a team ran out in boots and rain slickers to collect bin after bin of mail, and now his hands were itching again. He could already feel the familiar weight of the box packed with his favorite snacks and some handmade artwork.

"Commander, you'll be late to meet with the pilots."

Bradley was once again yanked from his daydream of being at home where it was warm and dry and cozy, and he was faced with the prospect of having to duck outside into the storm to get to the meeting rooms on time.

The first gust of wind had him shivering and wishing he could grab his mail directly from the helicopter and head back to his bunk. The second gust left him cursing under his breath. He had to go lecture all of these young pilots about where they needed to improve before they could fly their mission, and he just didn't have the energy for it.

"Work now, reward later," he told himself, taking a deep breath and picturing your smile. That was enough to get him through the meetings. It was enough to get him back to his small office where he wrote up his notes for the day. It was even enough to get him all the way to the narrow hallway where the mail was being sorted.

But now there was a massive fucking line of officers in uniform waiting for the same thing he was. And to top it off, his stomach was growling. He could bail out of line, eat dinner, and come back later, hoping there was still someone there to disperse the mail before they closed up shop for the night. But it wasn't worth the risk. He'd be happy to skip dinner in favor of mail from you. It wasn't even a question in his mind.

When he finally reached the window and the rows of alphabetized bins, he told the officer in charge, "Bradshaw, Bradley," and then waited quite impatiently to have an ordinary looking cardboard box thrust into his hands. But his heart leapt with joy as soon as he held it and saw your handwriting. "Thank you."

The box felt a little lighter than usual. Maybe you didn't have time to load it up with as many snacks as you usually did. He hated leaving you for weeks and months at a time to deal with everything at home on your own. He loved being at home for the day to day grind. Loved it. But there was something unique about seeing how much things changed while he was gone.

He shook the box a little bit, curiosity getting the best of him. He passed the cafeteria and ran like a child to get back to his bunk as quickly as he could where he set the box down and tore into it. When he saw the three envelopes on top, he had to fight back his tears and take a deep breath.

He carefully picked up the envelope that said Daddy in purple crayon and opened it up to find several coloring sheets and a note written in light pink crayon that was a little hard to read.

Daddy,

I lost my first toooth. The toooth fairee took it. I got a glittery doller. I drew you the toooth and the fairee.

Love, Wren

Bradley found the corresponding page with a drawing of the tooth along with the tooth fairy. His daughter also wrote her name all over the back of the paper in every color crayon imaginable which made him smile. He read her note again before carefully placing it on his nightstand, and then he picked up the envelope that said Dad in black pen.

Dad,

When are you coming home? Fourth grade is so boring. We are learning how to write in cursive, but I already know how. Mom doesn't make the homework as fun as you do. Don't tell her I said that.

Actually everything is better when you're at home. I had a good report card, so mom let me get a skateboard. I covered it in bird stickers. I can almost stand on it for three seconds. Soccer tryouts are next week, and mom promised to take a video so you can watch it later. When are you coming home again? I'll make sure she doesn't delete the video.

Wren drew you a tooth fairy, but it looks like a demon. So then I started to try to draw the tooth fairy, and it looks really cool. It's on the back of the page. Please write back and tell us when you're coming home.

Love, Hawk

His son's version of the tooth fairy did look pretty cool, and now Bradley was cracking up as he took a second look at the one his daughter drew. Yeah, it was a bit frightening. He set both notes aside, finally ready to read what you had written to him. The third envelope said Bradley in your familiar handwriting, but his heart lurched into his belly. Instead of the thick envelope filled with page after page that he usually received from you, this one was light. His brow creased in concern as he opened it up to reveal just one sheet.

Bradley,

We miss you. The kids are mostly holding it together, but we're waiting until we know your return date to start a countdown. You know how much Wren cries when the countdown goes on for too long. Honestly, it makes me want to cry, too.

I could write you a novel about work and school and how much I miss you, but I thought it might just be more fun to show you. I got a little carried away with the camera a few nights ago when I couldn't sleep. I was too hot, and your pillow still smells like you. It smelled so good. I started thinking about what you and I will do when you get home. Then I couldn't stop. I literally could not stop touching myself, Bradley.

It never feels as good without you, but I do think some of the photos portray just how vivid my imagination was that night. Like I said, I got carried away.

Let us know when you'll be home.

Love, Your horny wife

Bradley immediately started digging through the box, and he soon realized you'd only included a thin layer of his favorite snacks. He scooped them out onto his bed and was left with some Polaroids. A lot of Polaroids.

"Holy shit," he whispered under his breath, reaching in and pulling out a photo of you wearing nothing but a tiny lace thong in his favorite shade of blue. He loved that thing. He loved taking it off of you. Your arm was covering your breasts in the photo, but that was okay. He had a vivid imagination.

Oh, but you didn't leave him hanging at all. The next one he grabbed was you sprawled out in bed, tits on full display, thong present and accounted for. You were biting down on your lip, and he could almost hear you moan. Your nipples were hard and looked just like they did after he had them in his mouth.

"God damn it, Baby. You're killing me." He missed his family. He missed being at home. But right now, all he could think about was fucking the absolute shit out of his wife.

Now he was looking at a beautiful shot of just your face, eyes closed, lips parted in pleasure. That was followed up by you bending over in the thong. And then one where you had your nose buried in his pillow.

There were so many photos, he was getting dizzy. And he was hard. He took a few seconds to unzip his khaki uniform pants while his eyes searched through the photos still inside the box. "Damn," he groaned, wrapping his right hand around his cock while he picked up one of the photos with his left.

You were straddling his pillow in your underwear. Literally grinding your pussy against it. Back arched, tits front and center, riding his pillow like it was his face. He really wished it was.

"Okay, Baby," he murmured, picking up another one while he stroked himself. Your hand was inside your thong. Another one where your blue thong was pulled to the side, showing off your pussy. Another one where you had two fingers knuckle-deep inside yourself. Another one where you were licking your wet fingers.

When he reached blindly into the box again, his hand connected with something softer next to the Polaroids. To his absolute delight, his fingers wrapped around that bit of fabric that he recognized right away. The blue thong. His cock jumped in excitement as he raised your panties slowly from the box and brought them all the way to his face. He knew. He knew you hadn't washed it. He just fucking knew this little thing was put in the box directly after you came all over it and dragged it down your soft legs.

His mouth watered as he pressed it to his nose. Eyes squeezed shut, he inhaled the scent of your arousal. He moaned your name. He could practically taste you as he rutted into his own hand. Bradley inhaled and exhaled your smell, running the lace along his nose, mustache and lips. The fabric was soft on his face, and he could picture you teasing him with it.

He would do anything to have you right now. He wanted you bent over the end of the bed, sobbing and begging him to go harder. He wanted your sweet voice in his ear. He wanted you on your knees. He wanted to bury his face in your pussy until you screamed.

"Jesus Christ," he whined, panting as he jerked himself off. All he could smell was you. It smelled like home and being in love. He couldn't get enough as he rubbed your thong all over his face before lowering it down to his cock. The lace felt exquisite as he ached with need. The fabric glided along in his hand, creating a friction that left him groaning.

He jerked himself off slowly, trying to make it last as long as he could, but the Polaroids were all he could see, and your pussy was all he could smell. He came all over your thong, ribbons of white decorating it while he held onto the wall for support.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered, voice harsh as he drained every drop onto the lace. He held the sticky mess in his hand and huffed out a surprised laugh. From thousands of miles away, you did this to him. This was different from the mail he usually received from you, but he wasn't complaining. He got a nice update on what was happening at home plus a lot more than he bargained for.

Bradley walked into his tiny bathroom and draped your thong over the sink faucet before washing his hands. Maybe he'd have time to grab some dinner before returning to his bunk to write back to you, Hawk, and Wren. He had so much to say. Especially to you. He'd set himself up in bed with one of his clipboards and tell you all about what you made him do.

"Oh, shit," he told his reflection in the mirror as he thought about his clipboard again. "Fuck!"

He had one more meeting left. Starting in just minutes. He eased his cock back into his pants, still zipping up as he left his bunk. Then he walked while discreetly trying to tuck his shirt in and straighten out his uniform.

The further he got from your wrecked underwear, the more he realized he could still smell you. He was going to be able to smell you all night. This was going to be a painfully long meeting. And the letter he wrote to you later was going to be as dirty as your underwear.

----------------------

Thanks for reading! It's been a while since I posted a Bradley one-shot, and this one was hanging out in my drafts for a bit. Much love for a DILF. Hope you enjoy your Valentine's Day as much as Bradley enjoyed his mail!

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[luveline]

also if you’re still taking requests for some established relationship criminal minds fics…

could i possibly get spencer and his bombshell when she’s having issues with not getting as hungry as she usually does? like she eats her fill but her fill is less food than she normally eats? this is very self indulgent so feel free to skip 🙏

thank you for requesting <3 bombshell, fem

“Spencer, lovely?” 

Spencer believes that only occasionally do you use your powers of seduction against him. This stringing of words, Spencer, his name, rolling off of your tongue, and lovely, so quaint and said so nicely, how you’ve called out, that’s unintentional. That’s pure niceness. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, getting up to find you. 

The point of you staying at Spencer’s apartment is to see you, why isn’t he seeing you? (Dramatic. He invites you to spend time here because you want to and he wants you, and whatever you do while you’re here is fine by him.) 

You’re in the kitchen peeling fruits. A whole fruit salad, green and red apples cut in small slices like prep for an apple-sugar crumble, peeled tangerine, strawberries, pear, grapes. “Nothing is wrong,” you sing-song. “Wait, why do you think that?” 

“No reason.” He sweeps as much of your mountain of peels and off cuts into his hand as he can and carries it to his mini compost bin. This’ll take some time. “You did call me, though?” 

“Yeah, I want your opinion.” You slice through another strawberry.

Spencer cleans the last of the peels away, rinses his hands, and creeps up on you. “Why are you drawing this out? Is it an important question? Don’t be nervous,” he says, wrapping his arms around you from behind. Your shoulder is soft where he presses his nose. 

“It’s not important, I just wanna know if you think it’s okay to melt some chocolate and drizzle it over the fruit. Is that greedy? Am I gonna go into a sugar overload?” 

“That’s not greedy.” Spencer laughs softly, kissing your cheek. 

You pull away from him, but only to look at him with your own smile. It’s one he’s starting to know rather well, the I love you smile, fond and indulgent at once. It makes you look like you’re gonna pinch his cheeks. 

“You’re hungry, right?” you ask. 

“Yeah, I am.” It’s a lot of fruit. Spencer doesn’t know exactly why he says it at that very moment, but he suggests, “How about we make a little pot for fondue instead. That way if we don’t eat it all now we can put the fruit back in the fridge.” 

“You just want me to feed you,” you tease. 

Spencer hadn’t thought about it, but the image is a pleasant one. “Fondue was invented purely for dessert purposes at first, no seduction involved.” 

“Let’s involve it anyway.” 

He grins. “Before or after we eat?” he asks lightly. 

You tell him before in a way that reminds him that you aren’t just his best friend but his twin flame, drawing him close to you, your hands fragrant with orange rind and the sweet strawberry juice staining your fingertips. You take his face into your hands as he holds your waist, and when you kiss him, he smiles the entire time. 

“It wasn’t just chocolate,” he says, pulling away. “It was cream and cherry liquor, too.” 

“We should try it one day.” 

Spencer resists the urge to grab your face and squeeze your cheeks. “Yeah, we will.” 

He melts some chocolate and heats a small round dish in the oven. He pours the chocolate into the dish and you, impressed, sing his praises as you make some lemonade slush in the blender. It’s a fresh, cold snack for a warmer day. You take it in the living room with the window wide open and the drapes drawn back, sunshine at your feet. 

Spencer pulls you into his lap as much as you’ll allow him on the couch, the coffee table dragged to be in front of you, the TV remote held hostage under your arm. You dip a slice of apple into chocolate and offer it to him.

Spencer accepts it. He finds, as the bowl empties, the chocolate cools, that you don’t seem to eat very much. He slows his grazing in case he’s being greedy, but after what could only be a handful of fruit you’re done, curling into his side and hugging his leg. Your attention is on the TV but your legs wiggle restlessly.

“Is something on your mind?” he asks. 

“I don’t feel very hungry.” 

“That’s okay. It was a lot of fruit, angel, we can wrap it up.” 

“I feel like my appetite is awful lately,” you lament, sitting up to tip back across his lap, your shoulders to his thighs, looking up at him with a frown. “Do I look like I’ve lost weight to you?” 

Spencer holds your cheek. “I haven’t noticed anything, are you worried?” he asks, rubbing the softest part of your cheek with his thumb. 

“I guess it’s not a bad thing?” You wince. 

“It’s not a bad thing if you don’t feel hungry, but you need to eat. Maybe we can just switch to some dense food for a while. Protein bars and nuts, stuff like that.” Spencer leans down to tap your noses together. You laugh under your breath. “Do you want to lose weight?” he asks, frowning. 

“Not really. I’d prefer not to.” 

“Okay, good. You’re perfect like this,” he says. “We can just make sure you get your intake through whatever means necessary until we figure out what’s changed. Maybe you’re just changing. We can start having smaller meals throughout the day. It’s better for digestion.” 

You reach for a curl, twisting it around your fingers. “I have an appetite for you, at least.” 

“That’s corny,” he says. 

“You love it, though.” 

Spencer pushes the ‘diminishing appetite’ search results from his head. He can worry later, when you’ve been well and thoroughly kissed. 

[thedensworld]

Out The Door | l. c

Pairing: Idol Chan! x Reader!

Genre: exes au!

Type: angst, fluff

Word count: 15k

Summary: Chan was certain that you two should never have broken up. So, he made up his mind—he was going to find a way to be with you again.

Chan smirked at the bouquet of roses sitting on his counter, the vibrant petals almost mocking him. He felt betrayed—by himself, by the memories that refused to fade. Who was there to blame? It was February 14th, after all. A day that used to mean something. A day when he’d pick out flowers for you—never chocolates, because you didn’t like them.

Now, he was on the verge of laughing at himself. How pathetic was it that, even after a year, he still remembered every little thing about you? The way you preferred lilies over roses but accepted them anyway because he had terrible taste in flowers. The way you’d roll your eyes at grand gestures but secretly adored them. The way Valentine’s Day had never really mattered to you—until it did.

And yet, here he was, staring at a bouquet that wasn’t even meant for you, feeling like a fool.

"That's pretty," you had said a year ago, your gaze lingering on the red roses displayed in the flower shop window as you passed by.

"You want it?" Chan had asked playfully, his tone light but his intent obvious. He would have gotten them for you in a heartbeat.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "There's no reason to get me flowers."

Chan had only smiled, his fingers brushing gently against your cheek as he steered the wheel with his other hand. His voice was soft yet certain when he said, "I don't even need a reason to give you the world."

Now, standing in his kitchen, Chan exhaled sharply, shaking his head at himself. How pathetic. How utterly ridiculous that even after a year, the memory still clung to him like a ghost that refused to be exorcised.

Pushing himself up from the barstool, he grabbed the bouquet in one swift motion. His strides were long and deliberate as he walked to the bin, gripping the same exact roses you had once admired. Without a second thought, he tossed them in.

The petals rustled against the trash bag, a quiet, almost mocking sound. Chan stared for a moment longer, then turned away, jaw clenched.

It was just a bouquet of flowers. Just another February 14th. And yet, it still felt like letting go.

The doorbell rang. Chan let out a sigh, already knowing who it was. It had to be Hansol and Seungkwan.

Dragging himself toward the monitor, he glanced at the screen and chuckled when his guess was confirmed—his two friends stood outside, waiting.

"Go," Chan muttered as he pressed the button to let them in.

He barely lifted his finger before Hansol’s amused laughter came through the speaker, followed by Seungkwan’s dramatic whine. "Why? We brought chicken!"

Shaking his head, Chan unlocked the door. Moments later, they strolled into his living room like they owned the place, setting down a box of fried chicken and a few cans of beer on the coffee table. Chan simply stood there, watching them move around, as if they had done this a thousand times before.

"Why are you guys here?" he finally asked, settling onto the couch.

"Can’t we visit our favorite little brother?" Seungkwan teased, grinning.

Chan cringed. "Never say that again."

Hansol chuckled, stretching his arms before reaching for a can of beer. "There’s a new chicken shop nearby. Everyone says it’s good."

Chan smirked at the excuse. Yeah, right. Deep down, he knew the truth.

A year ago, they were here too. Sitting in this very spot. Eating chicken. Drinking beer. Trying to distract him the night you walked out of his life.

*

Chan stepped into the bakery, his eyes instinctively scanning the space. The warm scent of freshly baked bread filled the air, but it did little to calm the nervous hammering in his chest. His breath hitched at the thought of seeing you again.

Hansol—completely out of sobriety that night—had blurted out something that caught Chan off guard. His so-called "new favorite bakery," the one where he always grabbed kaya bread before practice, was your bakery.

"She opened a bakery?" Chan had blinked, his voice laced with disbelief. Opening a bakery had always been your dream.

Hansol had nodded, looking almost guilty. "I've known since, like, half a year ago."

Seungkwan had chimed in with a sigh, "We’ve known. I told him about the bakery… and we met her."

Chan had tilted his head, eyebrows furrowing. "Why are you telling me this?"

Then, as if catching himself, he shook his head. "No—I mean… That’s great news. She always wanted this." He let out a forced chuckle, but the nervous energy lingered. "I just don’t get why you’re telling me now."

Seungkwan and Hansol exchanged glances before Seungkwan exhaled. "I met her last week," he admitted, pausing for a beat before continuing. "And… she asked about you."

Chan's stomach twisted. He swallowed.

"Now—hear me out," Seungkwan pressed on, his voice softer, more careful. "I know the breakup wasn’t great. I get it. But from where I’m standing, it seems like you two still have feelings for each other."

What made him say that?

Had he been that obvious? Had he been showing everyone that he still had feelings for you?

Chan didn’t like the thought of it. The idea that his emotions were visible—that anyone could see right through him—made his stomach churn. He didn’t want people to think he was pathetic, still holding on to someone who had walked away.

Still loving someone who had already left him.

"What can I help you with?" a shopkeeper asked as Chan wandered through the bakery, his eyes subtly scanning the space.

He turned his head, expecting—hoping—to see you. But it was just the shopkeeper.

Forcing a polite smile, Chan bit down on his lower lip, trying to push away his disappointment. "Do you have any recommendations?" he asked, shifting his attention to the employee.

The shopkeeper's face lit up as he gestured toward the sandwich section. "Here’s our new menu! We have tuna, beef, and bacon sandwiches—perfect for breakfast."

Chan nodded absentmindedly, barely registering the words. "I’ll take ten bacon and ten beef, please." He pulled his wallet from his pocket, handing over his card.

The shopkeeper quickly packed the order, then, to Chan’s surprise, handed him a cup of Americano with a bright smile. "This one’s on the house. Thank you so much!"

Chan hesitated before lifting the cup slightly in acknowledgment. "Oh, you don’t have to… but thanks," he murmured, accepting the drink.

Once he settled into his car, he glanced at the neatly packed boxes of sandwiches in the backseat. He let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head at himself. Pathetic.

Taking a sip of the Americano as he pulled onto the road, he let the familiar bitterness settle on his tongue—except, something was different. His brows furrowed as he pulled the cup away, eyeing it curiously.

That taste.

Americano with berry syrup.

Your favorite.

*

Chan scrunched up his face the moment the taste hit his tongue.

You burst into laughter at his expression, quickly pulling the cup away from him. "Why do you look like that?" you teased, amusement dancing in your eyes.

"It's weird!" Chan exclaimed, wiping his lips as if that would rid him of the lingering taste. "It’s bitter, sweet, and sour all at once. Coffee shouldn’t taste like this."

You smiled, holding the cup close to your chest. "No… it tastes good. It has everything—the sweetness, the bitterness, and the tang of berries. Just like life."

Chan let out a chuckle, raising a brow. "Since when did you get this sentimental?"

You gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to your chest. "Excuse me? I’ve always been a sentimental person!"

Chan shook his head, giving you a playful look of disbelief. "You? Sentimental?" He scoffed. "You literally just leave my goodnight texts on read every night."

You giggled, tilting your head at him. "That’s because they’re too sweet. I was speechless."

Chan rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "Oh, so you were so speechless that you couldn’t even type a single reply?"

Chan shook his head, exhaling as he tossed the empty cup into the trash before stepping into the practice room.

From across the room, Seungkwan’s sharp eyes immediately caught sight of the plastic bags in Chan’s hands. He recognized the logo instantly—it was your bakery. His gaze flickered to Chan, suspicion creeping into his expression.

Hansol, however, was too excited about the food to notice anything. The moment he got his hands on a sandwich, he eagerly unwrapped it and took a huge bite. "This is delicious!" he mumbled, already reaching for another.

Seungkwan, still observing Chan, took a bite of his own.

"It does taste good. Where did you get this, Chan?"

Before Chan could answer, the other members in the room—who had also helped themselves to the sandwiches—started chiming in.

"Whoa, this is really good."

"I could eat this every day."

"Seriously, where did you buy these?"

Chan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced at the growing pile of empty sandwich wrappers. He hadn't planned for this much attention.

"This is from the place where I always get my kaya bread," Hansol said nonchalantly, taking another bite.

But the moment the words left his mouth, his chewing slowed. His eyes widened as realization sank in, and he snapped his head toward Chan.

"Wait—really?!"

As if finally processing his own words, Hansol immediately glared at the younger, his eyes practically screaming, You went there?!

Chan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoided Hansol’s accusing stare. He knew this was coming. Meanwhile, Seungkwan let out a knowing exhale, arms crossed, as if he had expected this exact scene to unfold.

The other members, noticing the sudden shift in Hansol’s behavior, exchanged confused glances.

"What’s up with him?" one of them muttered, glancing between Hansol and Chan.

Seungkwan, ever the smooth talker, quickly waved them off with a casual grin. "Ah, you know Hansol. He’s just being a little extra again."

Hansol scoffed but kept his mouth shut, though the way he kept side-eyeing Chan made it obvious—this conversation wasn’t over.

*

"He came again today."

You glanced up as you packed the leftover pastries into the boxes Sunoo had set up on the counter. You knew exactly who he was talking about—Chan, your idol ex-boyfriend. But for the sake of keeping up appearances (and maybe your own pride), you feigned ignorance.

"Who?" you asked, keeping your voice light.

Sunoo shrugged, his legs dangling off the counter like a kid who had just discovered something amusing. His knowing smirk didn’t help.

"That well-known ex of yours," he mumbled.

You snorted. "No one even knows we were dating. Never got caught." There was a hint of pride in your voice, as if that secrecy had been some kind of achievement.

Sunoo rolled his eyes. "I mean that well-known person who also happens to be your ex-boyfriend. Stop pretending you're not affected! He’s been coming here almost every day for a week."

Your hands stilled for a moment, but you quickly resumed packing, forcing a chuckle. "Maybe he just really likes the sandwiches."

Sunoo gave you a deadpan stare. "Right. And I’m the Crown Prince of Korea."

"And?" you asked, sealing the box filled with leftover donuts before heading to the sink to wash your hands.

"And you’ve been hiding in the kitchen every single time he comes in, i thought you still love him." Sunoo huffed in frustration, arms crossed over his chest. The pout on his face made him look even cuter than usual, which only made you laugh.

"I do..." you admitted, drying your hands.

Sunoo’s eyebrows shot up. "Then?"

"That’s it," you shrugged, lifting the box into your arms.

Sunoo let out an exaggerated sigh, grabbing another box and trailing behind you as you made your way to the exit where your car was parked.

You popped open the backseat door and carefully placed the boxes inside. Tonight, you’d be dropping off the leftovers at the nearest police station—something you did regularly.

Sunoo, still not letting the topic go, leaned against the car with a pointed look. "With him constantly visiting, don’t you think it’s time to get back together? I mean, he might feel the same way."

You froze for just a second before turning to face him. Sunoo shifted under your gaze, suddenly looking unsure.

"Having the same feelings isn’t enough to get back together," you said softly.

Sunoo shrugged. "But at least it gives you a reason. Isn't love about finding a reason?"

You chuckled at his comment. "You're right. But how do you know that? Didn’t you just graduate high school?"

Sunoo snorted as if you had just said the dumbest thing he’d heard all year. "I might’ve dated more people than you, and I only graduated high school."

You rolled your eyes, but before you could respond, his voice softened. "But really. Stop denying your feelings. That’s what’s hurting you the most."

You sighed, slipping into the driver's seat. Sunoo stood there, watching you expectantly, but you simply started the car and drove away.

You weren’t denying your feelings. You never had.

You let them flow, like water, even after breaking up with Chan. You still celebrated his birthday and his band’s anniversary by preparing special treats at your bakery. You still kept up with his activities on social media.

You never once denied the warmth that still lingered in your heart.

But you refused to give yourself false hope.

The idea that Chan might still feel the same way—it was too dangerous to entertain. When Seungkwan and Hansol had shown up at your bakery out of nowhere, catching you off guard, they reassured you that they held no resentment toward you. Then, just as casually, they mentioned that Chan had gone through the hardest year of his life after the breakup. That he hadn’t shown a single sign of moving on.

And that was unlike him.

This was Chan—a man who had never let himself be alone for long. A man who, before you, had always found himself in a relationship.

Yet, a year had passed since you walked out that door. And he was still alone.

*

Meeting you at the police station wasn’t something on his to-do list—not today, not this month, not even this year. Yet, here you were.

Chan had just been about to step out, his younger brother trailing behind him, when he saw you standing there, frozen in place, holding a box of what he assumed were pastries. The sight of you made his heart race, and he felt a mix of surprise and anxiety.

Beside him, his brother cleared his throat awkwardly, as if he wasn’t the reason Chan was here in the first place.

Great. Another reason to slap the remaining puberty out of his high school brother:

1. Getting into a fight with another student.

2. Making Chan come all the way here to pick him up.

3. And now—leading him straight to you.

Also, what the hell were you doing here with pastries?

Chan's mind raced. He hadn't seen you since the breakup, and now, here you were, looking as beautiful as ever.

Before either of you could speak, an officer approached, breaking the thick tension hanging between you and Chan.

"Ms. Ji, good evening. Long time no see," the officer greeted politely.

Chan immediately shifted his gaze, suddenly very interested in the interior of the police station. He kept his expression neutral, but his ears burned at the sound of your name.

You smiled at the officer, handing him the box of pastries. "Good job for today, Officer. Thanks for the hard work." Your voice was soft—just like it used to be when you’d ask him if he had eaten after a long, exhausting day.

The officer beamed at you. "You didn’t have to come all the way here for this, Ms. Ji. But thank you so much!"

Then, as if only just noticing the thick, unspoken air between you and Chan, the officer glanced between the two of you.

"Do you two know each other?" he asked, clearly curious.

Chan stiffened. He wanted to say something, anything, but his throat felt dry.

But you? You barely hesitated.

"We’re acquaintances," you replied smoothly, sparing Chan the briefest glance before looking away again.

"I should go, good evening." You bid the officer goodbye with a polite nod, turning on your heel to leave. The officer walked you out to the entrance.

Chan looked conflicted, exhaling sharply before running a hand through his hair. Then, with a pointed look at his younger brother—a silent command—he made his intentions clear.

Go hail a cab.

For once, his brother didn’t argue. He simply sighed, pulling out his phone as he stepped toward the curb. Thank goodness. Even though he had just been detained for fighting with another student, at least he had the decency to recognize that Chan’s love life was a bigger mess.

Chan, however, had no time to dwell on that. His long strides carried him after you, his heartbeat picking up as the crisp night air bit at his skin.

"Hey."

You stopped.

Your fingers instinctively tightened around the strap of your bag before you slowly turned to face him.

"Hey."

It had been over a year, yet your voice still sounded exactly the same—soft, steady, untouched by heartbreak.

Chan swallowed, his hands digging deeper into his pockets. How did you still manage to look so unaffected?

"You, uh… come here often?"

A dry breath of amusement left you as you tilted your head slightly. "If you’re trying to make a joke, that was a terrible attempt."

He huffed out a short chuckle, shaking his head at himself. "Yeah, figured." His gaze flickered to the police station building, then back to the box in your arms. "You do this a lot? Bringing pastries to the station?"

You shrugged, adjusting your grip on the box. "Yeah. They work long hours, and I always have leftovers. Seemed like a good way to put them to use."

Chan nodded, but his expression remained unreadable. A small muscle in his jaw twitched, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite figure out how.

Of course you’d do something like this. Thoughtful. Considerate. Always looking out for others.

Still the same.

And yet, he couldn’t say the same about himself.

The silence between you stretched, thick with unspoken words. The last time you had been this close, it had been different. Warmer. Familiar. Now, there was a distance that couldn’t be measured in steps.

Chan exhaled, his breath visible in the cold. "It’s been a while."

You gave a small nod, your gaze unreadable. "Yeah, it has."

There were a million things he wanted to ask. How have you been? Are you happy? Do you still think about me the way I still think about you? But instead, all that came out was—

"You look good."

The words settled between you, heavier than they should have been.

You pressed your lips together before offering a small smile, the kind that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Thanks."

Chan wanted to say more, to keep you standing there just a little longer, but before he could, a car honked nearby. His brother waved him over from the curb, signaling that the cab had arrived.

You took that as your cue to leave, adjusting your grip on the box before turning slightly. "I should get going."

He nodded, even though everything in him wanted to stop you. "Yeah… me too."

Another pause. Another breath caught between the past and present.

"Take care, Chan."

And just like that, you were walking away.

Chan stood there, watching as you disappeared down the sidewalk, his hands clenching into fists in his pockets.

Funny. He had spent so much time convincing himself that seeing you again wouldn’t change anything.

But now, he wasn’t so sure.

*

That night, Chan found himself doing something he never thought he would—scrolling through your social media. The account he had unblocked just hours ago.

You didn’t post often, just the occasional pictures with friends or snapshots of your bakery. But as he scrolled, his eyes caught on the details—the way your hair had grown out before you cut it again, the soft waves framing your face in a way that tugged at something deep in his chest. That image stayed with him longer than he expected, lingering in the back of his mind like an old song he couldn’t shake.

Then his finger stopped.

A photo of your bakery.

Decorated for his birthday.

Chan’s eyes narrowed, his breath catching slightly as he took in the details. His face on the banners, the pastries colored to match his band’s theme—every little thing meticulously arranged. And the post date? Just last month.

Why would you do this?

You had no reason to. You weren’t together anymore. If anything, he thought you resented the fact that he had chosen his career over you.

Wasn’t that why you broke up in the first place?

A strange feeling curled in his stomach. He didn’t know what it was—regret? Hope? Confusion?

But then, as he scrolled further, the feeling twisted into something else entirely.

A group photo.

You, smiling, standing among friends. And beside you, a man.

His arm slung casually over your shoulders. Too casual. Too comfortable.

Chan’s jaw clenched. His fingers tightened around his phone as he zoomed in slightly, analyzing the guy like it was second nature. As a man himself, he knew that kind of touch. It wasn’t just friendly. There was something in the way the guy stood close to you, the way he seemed at ease, like he belonged there.

"Who the hell is this?" he muttered, brows furrowing.

Like a magnet, his eyes kept finding the same man in different posts. Sitting beside you. Standing beside you. Slinging his arm around yours. Even touching your cheek in one picture—something that had Chan’s stomach flipping uncomfortably.

"What’s up with this guy?" He snorted, irritation creeping into his tone.

He tried to check the guy’s profile, but you hadn’t tagged anyone. Not a single name. Smart. Frustratingly so.

And then—

A notification.

You had just posted an Instagram story.

Chan tapped on it immediately.

A simple, cryptic sentence:

“Even if there’s a reason… could it be the reason?”

His brows shot up.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He stared at the words, trying to decipher them, trying to connect them to the birthday post, to the pictures with that guy, to you.

And for the first time in a long while, he felt something unfamiliar creeping in—

The unsettling thought that maybe, just maybe—

He had been too late.

*

"That's your problem, Lee Chan. You're too possessive but insecure at the same time."

Seungkwan didn't hold back as he took a sip of his drink, lounging comfortably in his apartment. He, Jeonghan, and Chan had settled into an impromptu drinking session after Chan had shown up unannounced, dragging along bottles of soju and cans of beer—clearly looking for an outlet.

Jeonghan raised a brow, intrigued by the turn of conversation. “That could be true…”

Seungkwan chuckled, shaking his head. “That is true. If you want to have a good relationship, you only need one—either confidence or possessiveness. Look at Mingyu and Seungcheol hyung.”

"Seungcheol is a bit possessive, though," Jeonghan pointed out.

Seungkwan waved a dismissive hand. "That’s just a concept. It makes him look cute."

Chan groaned, running a hand down his face. “But think about it—how could I not be insecure when she never wanted to introduce me to her friends? Was it because of that guy?” His voice tightened on the last part, irritation creeping in.

Seungkwan sighed, exasperated. He pointed a finger at Chan to Jeonghan. “Look at this fool. You’re an idol, Chan. How could she introduce an idol as her boyfriend? Where’s your brain? Did you leave it behind at practice?”

Jeonghan nodded, though he was still weighing both sides. "I actually get where Chan’s coming from, though. Y/n is very beautiful, and she’s competent too—a lot of men want her. But she never really made it clear that she was off-limits.”

Chan’s eyes widened in relief. “Right?! And I was so patient, trying to understand her, trying to make it work. But she was the one who broke up with me?” His voice rose slightly, frustration evident. To anyone else, it would have sounded like a fresh wound rather than something that had happened a year ago.

He put his can of beer down a little too abruptly, the sound echoing in the quiet of Seungkwan’s living room.

Jeonghan glanced at him, amused but also slightly concerned. “What did she say when she broke up with you?”

Chan inhaled sharply, closing his eyes. The memory crashed into him like a wave—too vivid, too raw, even after all this time.

It had been the day after Valentine’s Day.

Chan had just gotten back from a three-day trip abroad, exhausted beyond belief, desperate for nothing more than a proper rest. He had been on edge all day, feeling sensitive after the long flight. But the moment he stepped into his apartment, his fatigue was replaced by confusion.

Your suitcase was sitting in the living room.

Your bag rested beside it.

His heart sank.

Hadn’t you two been arguing all week? Was this about Valentine’s Day? Had it really come to this?

"Let’s not do this," Chan had said the moment he saw you emerge from the bedroom, another bag in your hand.

You didn’t look at him. Didn’t even pause. You simply walked forward, grabbing your luggage as if he wasn’t even standing there.

Chan moved quickly, stepping in front of you, blocking your path. “Where are you going?”

Your expression was unreadable when you finally met his gaze. "Home."

Chan’s chest tightened. "This is your home," he insisted.

But you shook your head. "Let’s take a break."

Chan had never believed in breaks. There was no such thing in his dictionary. A break was just a softer way to say breakup. And if you wanted to break up, then he deserved to at least know why.

"Is this because I chose work over spending Valentine’s Day with you?" he demanded, irritation creeping into his voice.

You frowned slightly. "That’s what you think of me?" A bitter smile tugged at your lips. "Then let’s say that’s the reason."

Chan’s frustration spiked. "What do you mean? At least explain it to me!"

You just shook your head again, gripping your luggage and moving past him.

"How can I let you go if you don’t tell me the real reason?"

That was when you turned to face him, your voice quiet but firm.

"You said it yourself— you chose work over me. That’s the reason."

Chan had stared at you, searching for something in your face. A crack in your expression. A hesitation. Anything that would tell him that you didn’t mean it.

But you nodded, steady. Unwavering.

"Yeah."

And then you walked out of the door, left him.

Back in Seungkwan’s apartment, silence stretched between the three of them after Chan finished recounting the memory.

Seungkwan was the first to break it, crossing his arms over his chest. "If I were you, I wouldn’t believe it."

Chan shot him a skeptical look. "Why? She said it herself."

Seungkwan sighed, shaking his head. “You know… sometimes women don’t tell the truth—not because they want to lie, but because they don’t want to hurt you more than necessary.”

Jeonghan, who had been silently listening, hummed in agreement.

"And maybe," Seungkwan added, his voice softer, "that was the least painful thing she could say to you."

*

"I'm sorry, but we're clo—"

Your words faltered the moment you saw who stood in front of the entrance.

Chan.

There, standing just beyond the threshold, was Chan. His presence felt almost out of place against the warm glow of your bakery’s lights, his frame silhouetted by the dim streetlamps outside. He held a paper bag in one hand, gripping it just a little too tightly. He looked unsure—out of place, as if he wasn’t sure whether he should be standing there at all.

For a second, neither of you spoke. The quiet between you was filled with things unsaid, memories neither of you had dared to touch for too long.

Then, finally, you found your voice.

"Chan… Hey," you greeted, pushing open the counter divider to step closer to him.

You glanced at the clock. 10 PM. The bakery had closed an hour ago, yet here he was, standing at your doorstep like he had something important to say.

"I haven’t come here in a week," he said abruptly, as if that explained his presence.

You nodded, already aware of it. It wasn’t hard to notice when someone like him stopped showing up. He had been coming almost every morning—until that night at the police station. After that, he disappeared.

Your eyes flickered to the bag in his hand. Before you could ask, he extended it toward you.

"I was in Italy for a week," he said, shifting slightly. "I got you a bottle of wine from a local winery there."

Surprise flickered across your face as you carefully took the bag from him. You peeked inside, fingers tracing over the sleek packaging before your eyes landed on the label.

Made in 1999.

Your lips parted slightly. That was the year Chan was born. The wine was as old as he was.

"You didn’t have to," you murmured, glancing up at him. "This must’ve been expensive."

Chan shrugged, his eyes darting toward the bakery’s interior instead of meeting yours. "I just… I wanted to thank you. For the birthday event. The fans must’ve loved it."

Your heart clenched at that. He was referring to the special decorations you had set up last month—his face on banners, pastries in his band’s colors. At the time, you weren’t even sure why you had done it. Maybe it was just an old habit you couldn't shake, or maybe it was something else.

You bit your bottom lip, your gaze shifting to the wine glasses sitting on a cabinet nearby.

Without thinking, you walked over, grabbing two and setting them on a small table near the counter.

"Let’s drink it together," you said, glancing at him over your shoulder.

Chan immediately waved his hand. "No, it’s a present. You should keep it."

You smiled, tilting your head slightly. "It’s okay." A small chuckle escaped your lips. "I don’t like drinking alone."

The moment the words left your mouth, you regretted them.

Because once upon a time, he had been the one you shared drinks with. Late-night conversations, quiet moments, the kind of familiarity that felt effortless.

And now, standing across from him, you weren’t sure if you were trying to relive a memory—

Or trying to forget one.

"Your worker..." Chan started, his voice casual yet laced with something unreadable.

You turned to him as you poured the deep red wine into his glass, the rich aroma filling the small space between you. He looked as charismatic as ever, effortlessly commanding attention even in something as simple as denim pants and a loose white shirt. His long hair, tucked neatly behind his ears, framed his face in a way that made your breath hitch—a sight you hadn’t expected to affect you so much. Unfair. So much unfair.

"Sunoo?" You guessed, already knowing your overly enthusiastic employee was the likely subject. Sunoo had a knack for keeping the bakery alive with his energy and charm, but sometimes—just sometimes—you wished he’d mind his own business, that little menace.

Chan nodded, confirming your suspicion. "Yeah, I think it’s Sunoo. He always makes me that Americano with berry syrup."

You froze.

Oh, dear god.

You needed to sit down. Or disappear. Preferably both.

Internally, you launched into a full-scale attack on Sunoo. That little rascal. That absolute traitor. You should’ve known better than to trust him near the espresso machine unsupervised.

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. "Oh my god. Chan, I am so sorry. You hate that flavor, don’t you?"

Chan chuckled, waving it off. "Yeah, but it’s fine. He didn’t know."

"No, it’s not fine!" you wailed dramatically, gripping the wine bottle like a lifeline. "I can’t believe he’s been sabotaging your morning coffee all this time. What should I do to make it up to you? Free pastries? Free coffee for life? A legally binding contract that bans Sunoo from touching the espresso machine ever again?"

Chan laughed, shaking his head. "You don’t have to do all that."

"No, I do," you insisted. "And while I’m at it, I might need to stage an intervention for Sunoo. What was he thinking? Who just decides to put berry syrup in an Americano?!"

Chan grinned, watching your mini meltdown with mild amusement. "Maybe he was just trying to be creative?"

You pointed an accusatory finger at him. "No. No. We do not encourage Sunoo’s creative coffee experiments. That’s how we ended up with the Matcha Espresso Disaster of last year."

Chan laughed even harder, and for a moment, the bakery felt a little lighter, like you weren’t two exes dancing around old wounds.

Still, you were going to have a very serious conversation with Sunoo in the morning.

"Have dinner with me."

Chan’s voice cut through the quiet hum of the bakery, steady but carrying something unspoken—something heavy.

Your breath hitched for just a second. "I’m sorry, what?" The words tumbled out before you could catch them, your brows furrowing in disbelief.

Chan didn’t flinch. He only nodded, his gaze locked onto yours with a quiet urgency. "Have dinner with me this weekend. You said you wanted to make it up to me, right?"

A soft, nervous laugh escaped you, but it did nothing to ease the sudden tension that thickened the air. "Chan… I don’t think—"

"As a friend," he cut in, his voice quieter this time, almost pleading. "Just as a friend. Please." His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his fingers curling slightly against the counter. "It’s been a while since we really talked."

Your chest tightened. You glanced down at the glass in your hand, as if the deep red of the wine might offer you an escape. "We’re talking now, aren’t we?" You tried to sound casual, but your voice came out softer than you intended.

Chan let out a breath—part scoff, part something else. Then, he leaned in just slightly, the warmth of his presence making it impossible to ignore him.

He licked his lower lip, eyes still on you, unwavering.

"Are we?"

*

You stepped into his house just as the clock struck seven. Chan’s eyes immediately landed on the plastic bag in your hand—probably filled with your favorite food, just like always. It was a habit of yours, bringing something to eat whenever you came over, as if his kitchen wasn’t enough. It was something so familiar, so you, that it almost made him forget how long it had been since you last stood here.

He held the door open as you slipped off your shoes and made your way to the living room.

"It's clean…" You remarked, your eyes scanning the space with mild surprise.

Chan let out a short laugh, rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous tick. "Yeah… I try to keep it that way. But, you know, sometimes a hectic day hits, and it turns into a shipwreck."

You chuckled, settling onto his couch like you belonged there. And maybe that was what threw him off the most—you still fit into this space.

Chan swallowed and turned on his heel, heading toward the kitchen. He quickly grabbed a couple of containers for the food you brought, his hands moving on autopilot. But as he reached for a dish towel, he caught himself—he was stalling. Wiping down a bowl he’d already washed an hour ago just to keep busy, to calm the subtle panic creeping up his spine.

Because if he stopped moving, he’d have to face the fact that this was completely insane.

It had been an impulsive text, one he barely thought through before hitting send. Asking his ex to come over and hang out in his barely put-together apartment on his day off? He should’ve known better.

But what shocked him more was your response.

"Sure."

So casual. So effortless. So unlike the emotional mess he’d expected.

Chan had to check his phone twice to make sure it was actually you who replied.

And now here you were, sitting on his couch like it was the most natural thing in the world, while he stood in his kitchen trying to push down the ridiculous amount of effort he put into cleaning just because you were coming over.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

Or maybe… he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

Chan approached you, setting the containers down on the coffee table before crouching beside you to help unpack the food. His fingers brushed against yours briefly as he pulled out a box, and for a moment, he wondered if you noticed. If you cared.

"You didn’t have to bring anything," he commented, glancing at you as he reached for another container. "We could’ve just ordered something."

"You say that like you don’t miss my good taste," you teased, but there was something softer in your voice—something familiar.

Chan let out a chuckle, shaking his head. But the moment his eyes landed on what you’d brought, he froze.

His favorite snack.

He blinked, his fingers still hovering over the box as realization settled in.

"I brought this for you," you said, casually, as if it wasn’t a big deal. "It’s from your favorite place."

Chan finally looked up at you, a flicker of surprise in his gaze. "That’s pretty far…"

He knew neither your place nor your bakery was anywhere near the restaurant.

You shrugged. "I went there this morning and got this on my way home. It’s already cold, though."

Cold? Did he care about that? Not at all.

The only thing that mattered was that you thought of him. That you saw the place, remembered him, and stopped to grab something for him.

His chest felt tight, like something warm was curling inside it, something he couldn’t quite name. Instead, he exhaled a quiet laugh and nudged the box closer to himself.

"You remembered," he murmured, more to himself than to you.

And for the first time that night, he let himself believe—just a little—that maybe, just maybe, he still had a place in your heart.

Chan cleared his throat, pushing away the warmth creeping up his chest. He didn’t want to dwell on it—not now, not when you were sitting here in his living room, casually unpacking food like old times. So instead, he latched onto the first neutral topic that came to mind.

"What about your bakery?" he asked, picking up a piece of the snack you’d brought. "Who’s taking care of it while you’re here?"

You glanced at him before reaching for a pair of chopsticks. "It’s closed today."

"Really?" Chan raised a brow. "You barely take a day off."

You nodded, leaning back slightly against the couch. "Sunoo, my part timer, his grandmother passed away. He went back to his hometown for the funeral."

Chan’s expression softened at that. He remembered that part timer, the one that always gave him americano with berry syrup. "Ah… That’s tough. He must’ve been close to her."

"He was," you said, stirring the food absentmindedly. "She basically raised him. That’s why I went to his hometown this morning—to pay my respects."

Chan stilled for a second, his grip on his chopsticks tightening just slightly.

You went all the way there?

His eyes flickered to you, studying your face, but you looked calm—like it was only natural for you to go.

Of course. That was just the kind of person you were. Always showing up for the people you cared about.

Chan exhaled, setting his food down. "You must be exhausted then. Going all the way there and then coming here?"

You tilted your head, as if just realizing it yourself. "Maybe a little," you admitted. "But it’s fine."

Chan clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "You should’ve just gone home to rest."

You shot him a small smirk. "And miss the chance to see your shipwreck of a house? No way."

Chan let out a laugh, finally letting the warmth settle. Once again, maybe, he wasn’t the only one holding on to things that felt familiar.

*

Chan woke up feeling refreshed this morning. He stretched his limbs, tossing and turning in bed to shake off the lingering sleepiness before finally rolling out and heading to change into his workout gear.

On his way to the gym, his fingers were busy scrolling through his phone, instinctively opening your chat from last night after you went home. He hovered over the keyboard, debating whether to send you a message.

A morning text? Too much.

A witty text? Maybe something playful—

"Hey... I dreamed about you last night ;)"

Chan grimaced. Nope. That sounded like a terrible idea for a text to an ex.

Before he could think further, his thumb betrayed him.

"Hey.."

His eyes widened. He gasped.

Did he just—

Chan stopped in his tracks, staring at his screen in horror. Maybe if he deleted it fast enough—

Ding.

Your reply came almost instantly.

"Hey."

Chan blinked. Then exhaled, pressing his lips together to suppress a stupid smile.

Chan: In your bakery?

You: Yup!

Chan: Can I visit after my gym session?

You: Sure. I'll get your sandwich ready then. Bacon?

Chan: Perfect. See you then!

Chan breathed a sigh of relief, his heart feeling oddly lighter as he continued his walk to the gym.

Upon arriving, he spotted Jihoon—a rare sight at this hour. Given that it was still their day off, the older guy usually wasn’t functional before 1 PM.

"You’re here early," Chan noted as Jihoon finished his set, placing the dumbbells down with steady breaths.

Jihoon nodded. "Got an agenda this afternoon."

Chan smirked, whistling playfully. "Oh? That sounds suspicious—"

Jihoon shot him a glare. "Don’t look at me like that as if you weren’t with your ex last night."

Chan’s smirk instantly dropped. His eyes widened. He stepped closer to Jihoon, lowering his voice. "How do you know?"

Jihoon gave him a flat look. "I saw you sending her off. We live in the same area, genius."

Chan groaned, running a hand through his hair. Right. He forgot about that.

Jihoon tilted his head slightly, arms crossed. "So… you two back together?"

Chan shook his head, trying to dismiss whatever was running through Jihoon's mind. "We’re just talking again. As friends, I guess? Yeah..." He nodded, as if saying it out loud would make it more true.

Jihoon hummed, wiping his hands with his towel. "Uh-huh."

Chan shot him a look. "What?"

Jihoon shrugged, tossing the towel over his shoulder. "Nothing. Just funny, that’s all."

Chan rolled his eyes and checked the time. "I don’t know why I still talk to you."

Jihoon chuckled. "Because you need someone to call you out on your denial."

Chan groaned, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not in denial."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that," Jihoon said, patting his shoulder before grabbing his own water bottle.

Chan sighed, running a hand through his hair before finally giving in. "Alright, fine. I’ll tell you what happened."

Jihoon raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. "Go on."

Chan leaned against a nearby bench, crossing his arms. "Yesterday, I invited her over. It was kind of impulsive, but she said yes."

Jihoon nodded, waiting for more.

"So, I spent the whole damn day cleaning my place—like, deep cleaning, man. I don’t even know why, but I just wanted it to look nice."

Jihoon smirked but didn’t interrupt.

"She showed up with food, her usual thing, right? But this time, she brought my favorite snack. And guess what? She got it from that place across town—the one that’s way out of her way."

Jihoon let out a low whistle. "That’s commitment."

Chan ignored the way his stomach flipped at that. "I didn’t even know what to say. I just—man, she thought about me while she was out there. That kind of messed with me a little."

Jihoon gave him a knowing look. "And you’re still calling this just talking?"

Chan shot him a glare. "Let me finish."

Jihoon held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. Continue."

Chan exhaled. "We talked, she told me about Sunoo, her staff—he’s dealing with some family stuff, so she visited his hometown earlier that morning."

Jihoon’s expression softened. "Oh, that’s rough."

"Yeah, she closed the bakery for the day because of it. Which means she didn’t even have to be up early, but she still went out of her way for all that."

Jihoon hummed, the teasing tone fading slightly. "She cares, Chan."

Chan rubbed his neck. "I know."

A beat of silence passed before Jihoon smirked again. "And then this morning?"

Chan let out a short laugh. "Woke up feeling... I don’t know, refreshed? Like, it wasn’t a bad feeling, but it wasn’t exactly normal either."

Jihoon raised an eyebrow. "You felt happy."

Chan groaned. "Why do you have to say it like that?"

Jihoon chuckled. "Because it’s the truth."

Chan shook his head. "Anyway, I’m stopping by the bakery after this. She’s already making my usual sandwich."

Jihoon grinned. "She remembers your usual? And you’re still trying to act like this is casual?"

Chan shot him a look. "Hyung."

Jihoon laughed, slapping Chan’s shoulder. "Alright, alright. But I’m telling you, man, this? This is not just talking."

Chan sighed but didn’t argue. Because deep down, he knew Jihoon was right.

*

Days passed, and without either of you realizing it, things started to shift.

It wasn’t a sudden, dramatic change—it was subtle, natural, as if the distance that had settled between you was melting away piece by piece. Conversations stretched longer, laughter came easier, and before Chan knew it, you were slipping back into his life the way you always belonged.

And then, one night, it happened.

A kiss.

It wasn’t planned, it wasn’t talked about—it just happened. Maybe it was the way you looked at him when you laughed, maybe it was how the night air felt warmer with you by his side, or maybe it was just that deep, undeniable pull that had never really left.

But the moment his lips met yours, he knew.

This is it.

This was the cue. The silent signal that everything was starting again, that whatever had broken before was slowly, steadily piecing itself back together.

From then on, Chan didn’t hesitate. After his schedule, he would drive to your bakery just to pick you up, sometimes without even texting beforehand. He’d lean against the counter, watching as you wrapped up the last orders, his presence so familiar that even your staff stopped questioning it.

"Long day?" you’d ask, handing him a cup of tea or whatever you’d decided he needed that day.

And he’d smile, nodding as he took the cup from your hands. "Better now."

Sometimes, the two of you would just drive around with no real destination, the quiet hum of the car and the city lights making everything feel weightless. Other times, you’d take slow walks through empty streets, talking about your days, about nothing and everything at once.

It felt easy. It felt right.

And Chan?

Chan felt like he was finding a part of himself that had been lost all this time.

You.

Chan stepped inside your house, his gaze instinctively sweeping over your living room. It looked different from last year. The cute trinkets and soft pastels that once decorated every corner were gone, replaced with a more refined, mature aesthetic. The change was subtle, but he noticed. It wasn’t just the decor that had shifted—something about the entire space felt different, as if time itself had settled into the walls.

His eyes drifted to the kitchen, where a few dishes sat in the sink, remnants of breakfast still lingering on the counter. Maybe you hadn’t gotten around to cleaning, or maybe you’d spent the night experimenting with new recipes for your bakery. Either way, it was lived-in, real—you. And Chan liked that. It felt warm, like home, like the way you used to make his kitchen feel.

"You want tea? Coffee?" you asked, already moving toward the kitchen.

Chan shook his head, stepping closer. "No need to get your hands busy. Just sit with me," he murmured, tapping the empty space beside him on the couch.

You hesitated for a second before joining him, barely getting comfortable before he pulled you into his arms.

"I like this…" he muttered, his voice low, as if he was admitting something to himself more than to you.

A soft laugh escaped you. "Like what?"

"This," he whispered, arms tightening around you just enough for you to notice. "Being here with you again."

Your breath caught for a moment. His warmth, the quiet rise and fall of his chest, the familiar scent of his cologne—it all felt so natural, so right. Like something neither of you had ever truly let go of.

You sighed, relaxing into him. "I missed this too."

The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city outside and the steady rhythm of your breathing against Chan’s chest. His arms tightened around you slightly, as if grounding himself in this moment, as if afraid that if he let go, you’d slip away again.

You shifted just enough to look up at him, and Chan’s gaze met yours—warm, searching, lingering. His fingers brushed lightly along your arm before trailing up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

"You’re staring," you murmured, a teasing lilt in your voice.

"Yeah," he admitted without hesitation, his lips curling into a small smile. "I missed looking at you."

Your breath hitched slightly, your heart betraying you with the way it picked up pace. There was something so effortless about Chan, the way he could make you feel like the only person in the world with just a look.

"Then make up for lost time," you whispered.

His eyes flickered down to your lips, hesitation flashing in his features for just a second—one last moment of restraint before he closed the distance between you.

The first brush of his lips was slow, careful, almost like he was testing the waters. But the second? The second was deeper, fuller, laced with all the unsaid words and emotions that had been hanging between. His hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face to his as he pressed in closer, his thumb stroking gently along your cheek.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie, pulling him even closer as the kiss deepened. It wasn’t rushed—it was unhurried, savoring, like both of you wanted to memorize this moment, to make sure it wasn’t just a fleeting dream.

Chan sighed against your lips, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against yours. "Tell me this isn't just nostalgia," he whispered, voice slightly breathless.

You shook your head, brushing your fingers through his hair. "It’s not."

Relief washed over his face before he captured your lips again, this time with more certainty. Like he wasn’t just falling—he was diving headfirst. And this time, he wasn’t afraid of the landing.

Chan woke up with you in his arms almost every morning. Not that he planned it every time, but he tried—and he could. Sometimes he crashed at your place, claiming it was too late to drive home. Other times, he dragged you to his, using the excuse that his bed was bigger, softer, warmer. The truth was, he just wanted to see you first thing in the morning.

Like now.

He blinked against the morning light filtering through your curtains, the weight of your body pressed against his chest grounding him in the best way. Your face was buried in the crook of his neck, your hand lazily resting on his hoodie, the fabric bunched slightly in your grasp as if even in your sleep, you didn’t want him to go.

Chan smiled, his fingers brushing along your back, tracing idle patterns. You stirred slightly, a soft hum escaping your lips before your body relaxed again.

"You're staring," you mumbled, voice still heavy with sleep.

Chan chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Yeah. I like looking at you."

"You say that too much," you whined, but the way your fingers curled against his hoodie betrayed the warmth spreading through you.

"Then you should get used to it," he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. "Because I don’t think I’ll ever stop."

You sighed, tilting your head up just enough for your lips to find his. It was slow, lazy—like the morning itself, like neither of you were in any rush to move, to leave the bubble of warmth you’d created. Chan sighed into the kiss, his hand slipping under the hem of your sweater, resting against the bare skin of your waist.

"You have to open the bakery today?" he asked between kisses.

You hummed, but made no move to pull away. "Not until ten."

Chan smirked. "That means we have at least two more hours."

You rolled your eyes, but your lips were already curving into a smile as Chan flipped you onto your back, leaning over you with that mischievous look in his eyes—the one that always, always made you weak.

"Two hours," you reminded him, though the way you pulled him closer told a different story.

"Plenty of time," he whispered before capturing your lips again.

*

"You're back together."

Hansol mentioned it too casually one day during their recording session for the next comeback, his voice carrying over the hum of instruments and the quiet chatter of the producers.

Chan raised a brow, glancing at him from his seat. "How do you know? Jihoon hyung told you?"

Hansol furrowed his brows. "Jihoon hyung knew?"

Chan let out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. "I mean—he saw us. So..."

Hansol nodded slowly, then sighed, arms crossed over his chest. "I saw her in your clothes this morning. That shirt—I gave it to you."

Chan’s mouth formed an "O" as realization hit. Right. That oversized, faded gray shirt you had grabbed from his closet before rushing out the door.

"You're right..." He huffed a laugh before shrugging. "And yeah, we’re talking again."

Hansol smirked. "Isn’t it a bit much to be wearing your clothes in the morning while still in the ‘talking again’ phase?"

Chan scoffed, shaking his head. "Hey, respect all the effort. It took me a whole year to finally realize everything."

Hansol’s smirk softened into something gentler. "Well, I’m happy for you, though." His voice was quieter now, more sincere.

Chan met his gaze, the corners of his lips twitching up. It felt nice, hearing that from Hansol—like the pieces of his life were finally clicking back into place.

"Did Seungkwan know about this?" Hansol asked suddenly, a knowing glint in his eyes.

Chan blinked, then quickly shook his head. "Haven’t told him yet."

Hansol snorted. "Oh, that’s gonna be fun."

The next day, Seungkwan strolled up to Chan with an unreadable expression, arms crossed over his chest like he was about to deliver some sort of life-altering news.

"You’ll never guess who I ran into yesterday," Seungkwan started, watching Chan’s face closely.

Chan barely looked up from his phone, tapping out a quick message before pocketing it. "Who?"

"Wonha."

That got Chan’s attention. He blinked, brows furrowing slightly as he tried to place the name properly. Wonha. His ex from his early twenties. One of the few exes he actually had a good relationship with after the breakup.

"Huh," Chan muttered, tilting his head. "How’s she doing?"

Seungkwan raised a brow. "She’s doing well. And—" He leaned in slightly as if dropping a bombshell. "She asked for your number."

Chan blinked again, this time in mild surprise. "Oh?"

"Yeah. Said she wanted to catch up."

Chan leaned back in his chair, processing that. Wonha had always been a good friend, even when they realized romance wasn’t for them. There was no dramatic fallout, no resentment. Just two people who grew apart but still wished each other well.

"Did you give it to her?"

Seungkwan rolled his eyes. "Would I be telling you this if I didn’t?"

Chan chuckled, shaking his head. "Guess not."

And so, he waited. Not anxiously, not with any particular anticipation, but with a vague curiosity. He knew he wouldn’t reach out first—that wasn’t his style. If she really wanted to talk, she’d text.

And she did.

A simple Hey, Chan! It’s been forever. How’ve you been? popped up on his screen later that evening.

Chan hesitated for half a second before typing back.

Hey, Wonha! Yeah, it has been. I’ve been good. You?

The conversation flowed easily after that, casual and familiar. Like two old friends catching up. Because that’s all it was. A friendly catch-up.

Or at least, that’s what Chan told himself.

The next day, Chan found himself spending the entire afternoon at your bakery, pretending he was just there to help out but mostly just looking for excuses to be near you. He chatted with Sunoo, stole a few samples of the new pastries you were testing, and even helped clean up when things got a little messy in the kitchen. But really, he was just waiting for the clock to hit nine.

And the second it did, he was already grabbing your coat from the rack and tossing it over your shoulders.

"Let's go," he said, nudging you toward the door.

You raised a brow, amused by his impatience. "I need to close up first, you know?"

"I’ll help," he insisted, already moving to flip the sign to closed and gathering whatever needed tidying up.

It barely took five minutes before he was pulling you to his car, a familiar routine by now—one that neither of you questioned anymore.

"Where to?" he asked, fingers drumming against the steering wheel as he glanced at you.

You hummed, thinking. "Han River. Convenience store. Instant noodles and maybe a can of beer."

Chan grinned, nodding as he shifted gears. "Classic."

The drive was smooth, city lights blurring past as the two of you fell into easy conversation about your day. It was moments like this that made Chan realize how much he had missed this—the late-night drives, the effortless company, the way you made him feel like no matter how exhausting his schedule was, this was always worth it.

When you arrived, the convenience store was quiet, only a few other night owls scattered around, either enjoying their own late-night snacks or lost in their own worlds. Chan grabbed a basket, filling it with your usual picks—two cups of instant noodles, a can of beer for you, and a bottle of water for himself. He threw in a bag of chips for good measure before heading to the cashier.

As you both settled at one of the outdoor tables overlooking the river, the crisp night air wrapped around you, but it wasn’t cold. Not with Chan beside you.

"You ever think about how we always end up here?" you mused, watching the steam curl up from your noodles.

Chan chuckled, tapping his chopsticks against the rim of his cup. "Yeah. It’s like our thing, isn’t it?"

You nodded, smiling softly. "Our thing."

Chan watched you for a moment, something warm settling in his chest. Maybe it had always been this simple. Maybe it had always been you.

After a while, between bites of noodles and sips of beer, the conversation flowed effortlessly—talking about anything and everything, teasing each other, reminiscing old memories. The laughter came easily, and for Chan, it felt like breathing.

Then someone approached.

"Chan?"

He looked up, chopsticks frozen mid-air, and his eyes widened in surprise. "Wonha?"

She smiled, standing there with casual ease, as if running into him was the most natural thing in the world. They greeted each other, the familiarity still lingering despite the years apart.

Then her gaze shifted to you, curiosity flickering in her expression. "And you are...?"

Chan blinked. He hadn't thought about this. Hadn't thought about how to define this, to define you. Girlfriend? Ex? Friend? What were you now?

"We're close," he finally said, the words feeling strange on his tongue.

You, ever composed, simply smiled and extended a hand. "Nice to meet you, I'm Y/n."

Wonha shook your hand, offering a polite nod. The conversation that followed was friendly—catching up, lighthearted small talk. Wonha mentioned she was back in town for a while, talked about work, asked about Chan’s schedule. But despite the casual nature, there was an underlying awkwardness, a tension Chan couldn’t quite shake.

And when Wonha finally excused herself, the silence she left behind was even heavier.

You didn’t say anything at first, just finished the last of your drink, eyes focused on the rippling water of the river. Chan shifted in his seat, glancing at you, waiting for you to say something—anything.

Then, after what felt like forever, you spoke.

"Let’s go home."

It was simple, but it carried weight.

Chan let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Finally, the silence is cut.

He nodded, standing up and grabbing the trash, his mind racing as he followed you back to the car.

*

Chan couldn’t reach you for almost a week. At first, he thought you were just busy. He texted, called a couple of times, but the replies were short, if they came at all. He even stopped by your bakery, only to have Sunoo mention in passing that you had gone on a business trip to another town.

That was when the uneasy feeling started creeping in.

You hadn’t mentioned anything about a trip to him. And worse—when he thought about it, he realized you had been slowly distancing yourself for the past week. Maybe even longer.

He wanted to believe he was overthinking, but deep down, he knew better. You were avoiding him.

And as if that wasn’t bad enough, another problem decided to make an appearance.

That morning, his phone was bombarded with notifications—texts, calls, mentions. At first, he thought it was just another work update or a group chat going off. But then Seungkwan's name flashed on his screen.

"Congrats, man. So, when were you planning to tell us?"

Chan frowned. "Tell you what?"

Seungkwan sighed dramatically. "The dating news, obviously. Your article is everywhere."

Chan's heart dropped. He pulled up social media, and there it was—a headline with his name splashed all over the place:

"Seventeen's Dino spotted on a date? Rumors of a relationship surface after café sighting!"

Accompanied by a picture.

A picture of him sitting across from a girl at a café.

And the girl in the photo?

It wasn’t you.

It was Wonha.

Chan froze, staring at the screen in disbelief. His members started chiming in one by one—congratulations, playful teasing, all assuming the article was true.

He ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. "This isn’t true."

The only thing he could do now was call the company, demand a clarification, and make sure the world knew that Wonha was just a friend.

But even if he could fix this problem, there was still you.

And right now, you were already slipping away.

"Why don’t you ask the girl you met at the café about her?"

Sunoo’s response was sharp, his words slicing through the tension in the air. Chan had barely stepped foot into the bakery before being met with that cold remark.

It had been a week since the scandal broke, a week since he had last seen you. And now, here he was, standing in the familiar warmth of your bakery, trying to explain himself.

“It was a misunderstanding,” Chan started, his voice firm but laced with frustration. “The media twisted it, like they always do.”

Sunoo didn’t look convinced. He crouched behind the counter, rummaging for something, before standing back up and placing a small sign in front of the register.

Chan furrowed his brows, reading the words aloud.

"House reserves the right to refuse service to anyone."

"Wait—this is a thing?" Chan asked, blinking in disbelief. He had never seen that sign here before.

Sunoo nodded, arms crossed. "House rule. F&B industry stuff. You wouldn’t understand since you come from entertainment."

Chan let out a dry chuckle, rolling his eyes. "You keep talking about industries. Why don’t you just tell me where Y/n is?"

Sunoo’s expression hardened. He leaned against the counter, gaze unwavering. "Why? You want to see her? Talk to her? Do you always check in on your ex like this?"

Chan felt his breath hitch. "What are you talking about?"

But before Sunoo could respond, the bell above the door chimed, signaling a new customer. In an instant, his demeanor shifted.

"Welcome!" Sunoo greeted with a bright, polite voice, flashing a smile at the guest. But just before he turned away completely, he cast Chan one last glance—one filled with something unreadable.

And just like that, Chan was left standing there, feeling as though the ground beneath him had suddenly become unsteady.

"He's gone..." Sunoo murmured, still watching through the bakery window as Chan disappeared down the street.

You stepped out of the kitchen, wiping your hands on a towel before settling onto one of the bar stools. Your expression was unreadable, but Sunoo could see the tension in your shoulders.

"You okay?" he asked, leaning against the counter.

You let out a chuckle, though it lacked humor. "Why wouldn’t I be okay?"

Sunoo raised an eyebrow. "Well, for starters, you’ve been avoiding him for a week. And second, you were just hiding in the kitchen the moment he walked in."

You scoffed, shaking your head. "I was busy."

"Right," Sunoo drawled, crossing his arms. "Too busy to tell him you were going on a business trip? Too busy to tell him you're upset?"

You exhaled, resting your elbows on the counter as you looked down at your hands. "What do you want me to say, Sunoo?"

"Maybe the truth?" he suggested. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're running away."

You bit your lip, but didn’t say anything.

Sunoo sighed, softening his voice. "You know, whatever it is you're feeling, you're allowed to feel it. You don’t have to act like nothing happened."

You glanced at him, eyes flickering with something close to hesitation. Sunoo didn’t push further, but he didn’t back down either.

"Just… think about it," he said before turning back to work, leaving you with your thoughts.

*

You went home, exhausted, only to halt in surprise at the sight of Chan squatting in front of your unit, scrolling through his phone. The glow of the screen illuminated his furrowed brows, but the moment his eyes caught yours, he stood up immediately.

"Now we meet," he said, his voice firm. You could hear the frustration laced in his words, see it in the way his shoulders tensed. But you were more upset than he was, and in your mind, he deserved every second of silence you'd given him.

"You're just going to give me the silent treatment? Like you always do?"

Your hand froze on the door handle. Slowly, you turned to face him.

"I thought we were over a year ago," you said, your tone indifferent.

Chan sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "And here I thought we had a chance."

You crossed your arms, looking at him with unreadable eyes. "What do you want, Chan?"

"You have no idea how crazy I’ve been this past week. After everything between us, you just disappeared, like you always do. This isn’t how you handle things. You don’t just vanish when things get tough."

You scoffed, shaking your head as you looked down at your shoes. "Oh, sure…" Lifting your head, you met his gaze with something sharp, something cold. "You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? Playing with someone’s heart."

Chan's brows furrowed, his expression a mix of confusion and hurt. "What are you trying to say?"

"You’re good at it," you said, voice unwavering. "Messing with people's feelings."

His frustration cracked into something closer to disbelief. "You’re the one who left me. A year ago and now. Don’t make it seem like I was the one who walked out that night."

Your jaw clenched as you turned away, gripping the door handle once more. "You have no right to tell me that."

"Grow up."

You stopped.

"Nobody in this world is a mind reader," Chan continued, his voice quieter but no less firm. "So grow up and say what’s in your head. I can’t guess what you’re thinking, and I need you to tell me what’s wrong, what needs fixing. I know I lack a lot, but after everything—after seeing you again—I want to be better. But the way you treat me... it's making me feel small."

You didn't respond immediately, your heart pounding in your chest. His words hit you in places you weren’t ready to acknowledge.

"Have you ever thought," you started, voice softer now, "how things would’ve been different if you had asked me to stay that night?"

Silence.

You let out a breath, your lips curling into something bitter. "You wouldn’t know, would you? Because you never even tried. And that’s what hurt me the most."

Finally, you turned fully to him, looking straight into his eyes. "You never knew how hard it was to speak my mind just to be ignored. And that’s why you never understood how much it hurt."

Chan exhaled sharply, as if your words had physically struck him.

"And now, you want me to speak?" Your voice didn’t waver, but there was a slight tremble in your fingertips. "Tell me, Chan, if I do—will you actually listen this time?"

Chan stared at you, his lips parting as if he had something to say, but no words came out. The weight of your words sank into his chest, heavy and suffocating. He had spent so long trying to understand you, but he had never really asked himself whether he had truly listened.

His silence was enough of an answer.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head as you turned back to your door. “Exactly.”

Chan stepped forward, desperate. "I know I messed up. I know I should’ve done things differently, but Y/n, do you really think I didn’t want you to stay?"

You let out a dry laugh, gripping the doorknob but not turning it yet. "Wanting and actually doing something about it are two different things, Chan. And I waited—God, I waited for you to just say something. But you didn’t."

"I was scared," he admitted, voice raw. "I didn’t know how to ask you to stay without being selfish. I thought maybe—maybe if you left, you’d be happier."

You turned around, eyes narrowing. "And who gave you the right to decide what would make me happy?"

He faltered, guilt flashing across his face. "I—"

"Chan," you sighed, your voice softer this time, tired. "I don’t want to do this again if it's just going to end the same way."

"Then don’t let it," he pleaded. "We can be better this time. I can be better. But I need you to talk to me. No more running, no more silence. Just us—figuring this out together."

You searched his face, seeing the sincerity in his eyes, the desperation, the regret. But was it enough?

"You broke my heart," you whispered.

Chan swallowed hard, his own heart aching at your confession. "I know," he said quietly. "But if you let me, I'll spend however long it takes putting it back together."

The air between you was thick with emotion, the past lingering like a ghost neither of you could quite shake. The choice was yours now. To let him try—or to walk away for good.

You let out a quiet sigh before pushing the door open wider. "Come in."

Chan hesitated for a second, as if he didn’t expect you to actually let him in, but he stepped inside nonetheless. You didn’t want anyone witnessing the two of you arguing in the hallway, and frankly, you were too tired for a public spectacle.

The door clicked shut behind you as you walked to the dining table, pulling out a chair and sitting down. You didn’t look at him. Instead, you focused on the smooth surface of the table, tracing invisible patterns with your fingertips.

Chan, meanwhile, stood by the window, three meters away. His hands were in his pockets, his back against the frame, his posture tense yet composed. His eyes weren’t on you either. The space between you was filled with silence—thick, suffocating, and louder than any argument you could’ve had outside.

Seconds stretched into minutes, neither of you speaking. The weight of the past, of everything left unsaid, settled heavily in the room.

Eventually, Chan broke the silence. His voice was quieter this time, hesitant but firm.

"Why did you leave that night?"

Your fingers stilled against the table. You swallowed, debating whether to answer honestly or give him the same indifference you had been holding onto.

"Because I was tired," you finally said. Your voice was calm, but the bitterness in it was unmistakable.

In the past, you had always known that Chan was friendly and well-liked. That wasn’t the problem. The problem started when you kept hearing from other people—friends, fans, even strangers—that he was still close with all of his exes. Some people even made jokes about how he had never been single for more than a month before jumping into another relationship.

At first, you brushed it off, trusting him. But over time, it started to bother you—not just the rumors, but the way Chan never reassured you about them. Instead of addressing your concerns, he dismissed them like they were insignificant.

“Why are you listening to those people? You know me.”

“Come on, it’s just people making up stories. Don’t let it get in your head.”

“So what if I’m on good terms with them? It’s called being mature.”

Every time you tried to talk about it, he shut it down, making you feel like you were overreacting. He never cheated, but he never made you feel secure either. And that’s what hurt the most—his failure to recognize that trust isn’t just about being faithful, it’s about making your partner feel like they’re the only one who matters.

As months passed, you tried to hold on, tried to trust him, tried to ignore the way doubt kept creeping into your heart. But it became exhausting—feeling like you were the only one fighting against the rumors, the only one trying to hold the relationship together.

Then, there was one final moment that broke you. Maybe it was another passing comment from someone about him still being close to a particular ex. Maybe it was seeing a picture of him with one of them, looking too comfortable, too familiar. Whatever it was, you tried one last time to make him understand.

“Chan, I’m tired of always hearing about you and your exes. I’m tired of feeling like I’m competing with ghosts.”

But instead of listening, he got defensive.

“You don’t trust me at all, do you? Why are you making this such a big deal?”

You sighed deeply, crossing your arms over your chest, as if trying to hold yourself together. “I was tired of fighting with my own thoughts. Because whenever I tried to bring them to the table, you brushed them away.”

Your voice was steady, but Chan could hear the exhaustion beneath it. That quiet kind of hurt—the one that lingers long after the wound is made.

He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “I did that?”

You let out a small, bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Yes. And I started to feel alone. Alone… alone… while you were out, hanging out—a lot—with your exes. And I was left by myself. I saw you that night. You were with your friends, and there was her…”

You didn’t have to say her name. He knew exactly who you were talking about.

Chan exhaled sharply, looking away. The weight of your words pressed against his chest, tightening like a vice.

He remembered that night—the night everything between you fell apart.

He could still hear his phone ringing, your name flashing on the screen. He had answered casually, thinking it was just another call. You told him you were at his place. You wanted to talk.

He said he’d be home soon. But he hadn’t meant it.

Instead, he stayed. Another drink. Another story. Another hour.

When he finally did go home, you were already waiting—but not in the way he had expected. You weren’t curled up on his couch, waiting to be held. You weren’t upset, demanding an explanation.

No, you were standing there—rigid, distant, already pulling away.

And before he could even process what was happening, before he could even reach for you—

You ended it.

Just like that. No screaming, no accusations, no dramatic fights.

Just quiet devastation.

“You didn’t trust me.” His voice barely broke the silence.

You met his eyes, and it sent a shiver down his spine. There was no hesitation when you answered.

“You’re right.”

The finality of it crashed into him like a wave.

Chan clenched his fists, his mind spiraling back to that night. He had stood there, watching you walk away, unable to move, unable to say a single word. Because at that moment, he was too caught up in himself.

He hadn’t thought about you. About how you had tried—again and again—to tell him what was wrong. About how you had begged, without ever raising your voice, for him to reassure you.

Instead, he had let his own frustration consume him. He had spent so long convincing himself that you were the problem—that you were overthinking, being irrational, asking for too much.

But now, hearing you say it so plainly—

You didn’t trust him. And he had given you every reason not to.

His voice was quieter this time, almost hesitant. “You never told me why…”

Your eyes flickered with something unreadable—hurt, regret, maybe even disappointment.

“Because you weren’t on the same page as me.”

Silence.

And it was deafening.

Because he knew it was true. Even if you had explained back then, he wouldn’t have understood. He would’ve dismissed it, convinced himself that you were just being insecure.

But this wasn’t insecurity.

This was trust breaking, piece by piece, until there was nothing left to hold onto.

And suddenly, he realized—you hadn’t left because you wanted to. You left because, at that moment, you had no other choice.

And that realization hurt more than he ever thought it would.

Chan knew he had lost you once because he failed to listen. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

He stood there, leaning against your window frame, the weight of everything sinking in. The silence between you was thick—so many words left unspoken, so much hurt neither of you had truly acknowledged until now.

But this time, he wasn’t going to brush it aside. He wasn’t going to let his own emotions overshadow yours.

Chan took a slow breath and finally spoke, his voice steady but filled with raw sincerity. “I was selfish.”

You didn’t say anything, but the slight twitch in your expression told him you were listening.

“I thought I was doing enough just by being with you. I thought… if I wasn’t doing anything wrong, then there was nothing to fix. But I never stopped to ask myself if I was making you feel safe with me. If I was making you feel like you mattered.”

He pushed off the window frame, stepping closer. Not too close—just enough to show you that this time, he wasn’t running from the conversation.

“You were right to leave me that night,” he admitted. “Because I wasn’t ready to hear you. I wasn’t ready to understand. But I am now.”

The room felt smaller with Chan standing there, his presence filling the silence between you. The weight of everything—the past, the heartbreak, the unspoken words—pressed down on both of you, but for the first time, neither of you looked away.

You exhaled slowly, your arms still crossed, the shield you had built around yourself refusing to fall so easily. "You say all the right things now," you muttered, your voice quieter than before. "But words don’t erase what happened."

Chan nodded, his expression serious. "I know." He took a cautious step forward, just enough to close the emotional distance without overwhelming you. "I know words aren’t enough. But I’m not saying this just to make you forgive me. I just... need you to know that I finally get it."

His voice carried none of the frustration or defensiveness you had once been so used to. Instead, there was something raw—an understanding, a regret that felt real.

You let out a dry chuckle, shaking your head. "It took you losing me to understand?"

"Yeah," he admitted, a small, humorless smile on his lips. "I guess I had to lose you to really see how much I took for granted."

Your shoulders eased just slightly, the tension in your chest loosening. You weren't ready to forgive him, not yet. But something about the way he was speaking—**without excuses, without pushing blame onto you—**made you feel like, for once, he was truly listening.

He glanced down at his hands, exhaling deeply before meeting your gaze again. "I don't expect things to go back to the way they were. I don’t even expect you to give me another chance. But if you ever think there’s even the slightest possibility of trusting me again..." He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Then I want to be someone worth trusting."

Silence settled again, but it wasn’t as suffocating this time. The anger that had once flared between you had softened into something else—something uncertain, something hesitant, but no longer painful.

You sighed, finally lowering your arms. "I don’t know if I can just believe you overnight."

Chan nodded, the corner of his lips twitching into the smallest, most understanding smile. "Then let me prove it to you. No rush, no expectations. Just… let me be here. This time, I’ll listen."

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe, just maybe, he would.

*

"Have you seen this?"

Attached was a screenshot—an official announcement from Pledis Entertainment.

"Dino of SEVENTEEN is currently in a relationship with a non-celebrity. We ask for your support and understanding."

The news took you by surprise.

Your name wasn’t mentioned in the official announcement, but you knew. You were the non-celebrity. The one the world was suddenly talking about. The one they were wishing happiness for.

Your phone wouldn’t stop buzzing—friends, acquaintances, even people you hadn’t spoken to in years, all reaching out with the same excitement. "Is it true?" "Are you really dating Dino?" "How did this even happen?"

You stared at the screen, overwhelmed, heart racing.

And then, there was the photo. The one of Chan in an apron, standing behind the counter of your bakery. Box on his hands, sleeves rolled up, a soft smile as he handed a customer their order. It had been taken just last weekend, completely candid. You knew because you had been standing right beside him, laughing as he struggled to tie the apron properly.

You weren’t sure how the photo got out. Maybe a customer had snapped it. Maybe a fan had recognized him. Maybe it didn’t even matter anymore—because now, the world knew.

And surprisingly, they were happy for you.

You had been terrified of this moment. Afraid of what people might say, of the scrutiny that would come with being associated with him again. But as you scrolled through the comments, you saw nothing but excitement, nothing but support.

"Dino looks so happy!"

"He really found someone special."

"He’s literally boyfriend goals, helping out at her bakery like that."

"I hope they stay together for a long time."

Your chest tightened. It felt surreal.

It had taken months to get here. Months of hesitation, of slow conversations, of learning to trust again. Months of Chan proving to you—through actions, not just words—that he had changed.

That he had finally understood.

You thought back to the first time he had shown up at your bakery. He hadn't said much, just stood there awkwardly, asking if you needed help. You had been hesitant, but you let him stay. Then he kept coming back. On his free days, between schedules, whenever he could.

And somewhere in between rolling dough, wiping flour off his face, and sneaking bites of pastries when he thought you weren’t looking—he became part of your life again.

Not as an idol. Not as the Chan you once fought with. Just as him.

You put your phone down, heart still racing.

Chan had yet to text you about the announcement. He was probably waiting, letting you process it on your own.

And for once, you weren’t afraid.

You looked toward the kitchen, where he was now—tying his apron, completely unaware that the world had just found out about you two.

You took a deep breath, stepped forward, and smiled.

"Hey, boyfriend," you teased, leaning against the counter.

Chan looked up, confused for a second, before his phone finally buzzed. His eyes widened.

"You okay?" he asked immediately, concern flickering in his gaze.

You nodded. "Are you?"

He exhaled, then grinned. "Well… at least they got my best angle."

You rolled your eyes, but you laughed. And for the first time in a long time, you weren’t looking at the past anymore.

At first, you weren’t sure how things would change.

Chan had always been social, always surrounded by people, and a part of you feared slipping back into old patterns. The nights where you’d feel left out. The moments where you questioned your place in his life. But this time, things were different.

He made sure of it.

The first time he invited you to hang out with his friends, you hesitated. You still remembered how it felt before—watching from the sidelines while he laughed with people who had known him longer, had history with him in a way you didn’t. But Chan noticed.

And instead of brushing it off, he reached for your hand.

"Hey, come here," he had said softly, pulling you into the conversation. "They’ve been wanting to meet you properly."

Properly.

Not as someone in the background. Not as just another presence in the room. But as his girlfriend.

From that day on, he never made you feel like an outsider. You were part of his world now, not just someone looking in.

Whenever he was with his friends, his arm always found its way around your shoulders. If you were feeling quiet, he’d gently pull you closer, pressing a quick kiss to the side of your head, whispering, "You okay?" If he laughed at an inside joke, he’d take the time to explain it to you. If his friends teased him, saying he had changed, he’d just smile and say, "Yeah. I did."

And then there were his exes.

Chan never cut them out of his life—not because he was holding onto the past, but because he had learned how to balance things. He didn’t hide it from you. He was transparent, always telling you if he happened to run into them, if they caught up once in a while.

But the difference now? He never let it make you feel small.

If his exes were around, he made it clear where he stood. His hand in yours. His attention on you. His presence next to you, always.

"You don’t have to worry," he’d say, eyes sincere. "I know what I want."

And he showed you.

When someone brought up his dating history, he never entertained it. If an old friend joked about how he’d never been single for long, he’d only shrug and say, "That’s in the past."

And if there was ever a moment—even the smallest second—where doubt crept into your mind, he always knew.

One night, after a dinner gathering, he noticed how you grew quiet as an old conversation about his past relationships resurfaced. He didn’t wait for you to bring it up.

In the car ride home, he reached for your hand and held it against his chest.

"Talk to me," he murmured.

You sighed, unsure how to put it into words. "I know you’re close with them. And I don’t want to be the kind of person who’s insecure about it. But sometimes…"

"Sometimes it still lingers?" he finished gently.

You nodded.

Chan didn’t get defensive. He didn’t dismiss it. He just squeezed your hand and said, "I get it. And I’m not asking you to ignore your feelings. Just… let me remind you, whenever you need it."

You looked at him, heart softening. "How will you remind me?"

He turned to you, eyes full of certainty.

"Like this."

And before you could react, he leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips.

Not rushed. Not just for reassurance. But because he wanted to. Because he chose you.

And he would always make sure you knew that.

*

Seungkwan had absolutely nothing in his head as he stood near the break room, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. It was one of those rare moments where his brain wasn’t running a hundred miles per hour—no schedules to stress over, no members to yell at for losing their things nor refusing to take their vitamins. Just mindless scrolling.

That was until he overheard Hansol’s voice from inside the room.

“She sent me some pictures. It looked good.”

Seungkwan barely paid attention at first, but then Chan’s voice followed, casual as ever.

“Yeah, she was developing a new recipe last night. She told you about that? Jeez, you’re still her favorite member, hyung.”

Seungkwan’s thumb froze mid-scroll.

She?

Recipe?

His eyes narrowed. He replayed the sentence in his head, dissecting it like a scientist analyzing a new discovery. There was only one “she” in their circle who was obsessed with baking.

His heart dropped to his stomach.

His brain took a second too long to process the words. The next thing he knew, he was barging into the room, his eyes darting between Hansol and Chan.

"WAIT, WHAT?! WHAT’S GOING ON?!"

Chan looked up lazily from his phone, blinking at Seungkwan like he had just asked if water was wet. "Uh… what do you mean?"

Seungkwan’s jaw dropped. "DID YOU JUST SAY SHE—AS IN Y/N?!"

Hansol smirked but said nothing, sipping his drink.

Chan nodded, still looking completely unbothered. "Yeah? Why?"

Seungkwan’s face contorted in a mix of betrayal and disbelief. "YOU’RE BACK TOGETHER?!"

"Uh-huh."

"AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME?!"

Hansol chuckled, leaning back. "Dude, it’s been months."

Seungkwan gasped dramatically. "Months?!" He placed a hand on his chest as if he had just been personally attacked. "And I was the last to know?"

Chan shrugged, completely unfazed. "We didn’t exactly keep it a secret. You were just… too busy freaking out over the whole scandal thing."

"Busy freaking out—Chan, I lost SLEEP over that! I thought I ruined your life! I was having nightmares about it!" Seungkwan clutched his head as if reliving the trauma. "And the whole time, you two were just happily together behind my back?!"

Hansol patted his shoulder, failing to suppress a laugh. "Yeah, man. You really stressed yourself out for nothing."

Seungkwan groaned, collapsing onto the couch. "Unbelievable. This is betrayal. I feel so betrayed." He pointed an accusatory finger at Chan. "You should’ve told me! I deserve better than this!"

Chan chuckled, finally setting his phone down and walking over to ruffle Seungkwan’s hair. "Alright, alright. I’ll make it up to you. How about we all hang out at the bakery tomorrow? She’s testing out her new recipe."

Seungkwan’s ears perked up slightly, but he kept up his sulking act. "...The one with the cream filling?"

Chan smirked. "Yup."

Silence.

"...Fine," Seungkwan muttered, crossing his arms. "But only because of the food."

Hansol shook his head. "He forgives fast."

Seungkwan scoffed but didn’t deny it. "You’re lucky I love desserts. But I’m still mad at you."

Chan laughed, slinging an arm around him. "Sure, sure. I’ll let her know her favorite member is coming by."

Seungkwan rolled his eyes, "liar. You said it was Hansol earlier." But he couldn't help the small, satisfied smile that tugged at his lips.

And just like that, the weight of the past lifted, leaving only laughter, warmth, and the start of something even better.

End.

[gabbytvclarke]

The dog and the postwoman PART TWO: The Sleepover

Part one here! ♥ Part three here! ♥ Part four here! ♥ Part five here!

• Summary: After meeting Arthur TV and filming her first pub golf, y/n heads back to the boys’ flat for a sleepover, where more sweetness with Arthur continues. • Pairing: Arthur TV x female!reader (Also friend!George Clarke, friend!ChrisMD and friend!Arthur Hill) • Slow burn fluff, newfound friends to something more? More of exchanged glances, light touches, etc. • Warnings: alcohol, swearing, innuendoes • Word count: 4,452 words Note: Arthur Hill will be either referred to by his full name or just ‘Hill’, Arthur TV will just be ‘Arthur’!

♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥

“Oh really?” Arthur questioned, his cheeks beginning to burn again as y/n turns to look at him. The closeness of their faces in the cramped taxi adding to the heat as they lock eyes and share giggle.

George clears his throat, feeling the rising tension. “Better than people shipping Arthur and Chris again!” He chuckles, turning to Chris, “The amount of edits of you biting Arthur is mental.” Y/n and Arthur laugh. George draws his attention to his phone, resting his head on his fist with his elbow leaning on the taxi door handle. Chris initiates more small talk with the driver.

Arthur looks out the window to try and calm his nerves, sobering up slightly and suddenly feeling a tad anxious after the boys mentioned them potentially being shipped. He wonders to himself whether the boys are teasing him because his crush is so one-sided, or whether they're teasing because y/n is into him too. Could she like him? Is she only nice out of pity because he's a bit of an oddball? He knows the only way to find that out is to speak to y/n directly, and because of that he begins to feel a weight on his shoulders. Y/n also watches the streets pass by through the window on Arthur’s side, every so often she glances to Arthur. She can see that Arthur's deep in thought, tapping his fingers on the car door and knotting his eyebrows together. She remembers seeing moments in videos where he gets into a daze, and doesn’t think too much about it. Just in case though, she breaks the silence in the back of the taxi.

“What film are we watching when we get in?” She asks.

“Hm, not sure. Chris will probably pick or else he’ll get in a strop.” George answers quietly with a smirk, waiting for Chris to retaliate but he’s still too busy talking to the driver.

“Probably something terrifying,” Arthur chimes in, louder on purpose so Chris can definitely hear, “Chris likes to make us watch films full of jump scares to ‘see our reactions’, though I really think it’s because he’s too scared to watch it alone.” he laughs at his own comment, feeling a bit more relaxed again.

“That’s so not true Arthur.” Chris states, his voice breaking halfway through. “God I need a drink when we get home.”

“I think you’ve had enough mate.” George quips.

“Of water, you dickhead.” Chris snaps back, throwing his head back against the headrest.

When they pull up to their flat, Chris pays the driver and wishes him a good evening as the other three make their way into the building. They all kick their shoes off and Arthur removes his dog onesie, which he was using as a coat after only wearing shorts and a T shirt underneath. George also whips off his pickle costume, wearing similar attire to Arthur the whole time too. They throw their costumes on the floor. “Oh hey guys… and girl.” Arthur Hill says, walking through to the entryway, not expect y/n’s presence. Everyone else greets him as Chris enters, throwing his pickle costume to the pile on the floor too, muttering something about binning them later. “You all look like you need big glasses of water” Hill chuckles, looking across each ex-player, his eyes ending on Chris and widening.

“Fuck the film, I’m going to bed,” Chris groans, heading to the kitchen to grab some water first, “I’ll grab you two some blankets and spare pillows. You okay taking one of the sofas too y/n?” Y/n looks to their huge comfy sofas and nods.

“I think I can handle a movie, if anyone's still interested?” George offers to the room. Y/n and the Arthurs accept. Y/n immediately plops on one of the sofas, patting and feeling it with her hands and smiles to herself at how they're as comfortable as they look.

“I’ll grab you guys some water and paracetamol… and some food too.” Hill says as he heads into the kitchen area, Arthur follows him but passes to go to the bathroom. George collapses onto the other sofa and gets Netflix up on their huge TV. Hill passes y/n a tablet and water, setting the other two on the shared coffee table. He sits himself next to y/n. “No, Hill. Come sit by me mate.” George calmly suggests. Hill looks to him confused, shrugs and obliges. Y/n is busy messaging Becky to even pay attention. George then whispers in Hill's ear and they look to y/n, who's still none the wiser, and Hill gives George a subtle thumbs up.

Arthur enters the lounge area holding a pile of fresh folded blankets and pillows balancing on top. “Chris says ‘good night’,” he grunts a half-arsed impression of a grumbly Chris. He wobbles his way to the sofas, dropping the pillows to the floor and the top two smaller blankets onto George and Hill, and taking the larger blanket to share on the sofa with y/n as he plops down next to her. "They're for us to use later." Arthur explains to y/n. She nods and drapes the blanket over them both.

“I’ve put a couple of frozen pizzas in the oven, you all should definitely eat something tonight.” Hill says.

“Thanks Hilly” y/n replies. George scrolls through the horror section on Netflix, waiting for everyone to agree. Y/n is open minded the whole time, whereas Arthur doesn’t want to watch one that he’s seen recently. Hill doesn’t fancy anything too gory and George just wants a film picked ASAP. The boys bicker a little as y/n watches on in amusement. Arthur makes himself comfortable, slouching with his arm resting by y/n. Y/n gets herself into a more relaxed position herself, but couldn’t deny feeling slightly chilly while she sits by the flat’s flimsy windows. She pulls her side of the blanket further up to her chin, sitting with her knees to her chest. “You cold?” Arthur whispers to her, while George and Hill are debating what makes a film 'too gory'.

“A bit, but I’ll be okay,” y/n replies. Arthur doesn’t have anything to chivalrously lend to her, not without being shirtless.

“Oh! Do you want to wear my dog onesie? I promise I didn’t spill anything on it.” He offers, throwing his half of the blanket off himself and standing to his feet, a little too fast and giving himself head rush. Y/n chuckles at his eagerness.

“Sure, thank you,” she answers, but by this time Arthur is already bringing the onesie over. She stands and puts it on over her postwoman costume. It was already big on Arthur, so it hangs even baggier on her, with her feet still tucked in the cuffed foot holes. She sits back down and pulls the blanket back over herself. “Much better,” she sighs contently.

“Don’t forget the hood!” Arthur grins, pulling the hood up from between her shoulders and over her head, giving her a couple of light pats. “There. Good girl.” He whispers as he leans in closer to her, a nod to her comment back in the last pub. Y/n scrunches her face up as she laughs, Arthur’s hand still on her head. He gently slides his hand down to her cheek, leaving it there for a second before setting it back on his lap. Y/n feels her face start to burn, thankful Arthur moved his hand away in time before he could feel it too, but also wishing he was cupping her cheek still. Finally, they all decide on a movie. Hill excuses himself to grab their dinner before it plays, then re-enters a few minutes later carrying two plates of pizza, which he had kindly cut into slices. George immediately grabs a slice. “Thanks mate,” he mumbles with his mouth full. As Hill gets himself comfy on his sofa again, George presses play on the movie. The four sit in silence while they watch and eat, ironically Hill eating more pizza than the others.

A particularly intense moment begins building in the movie, and y/n's body stiffens up. Arthur looks to her and can see her wide eyed and taking shallower breaths. "Ahh!" He suddenly screamed as he grabs her, the hand that was once resting behind her now grabbing her shoulder and his other hand reaching over and grasping her arm, making her jump out of her skin. She flinches so hard that the hood of the onesie flies back off. "Fucking hell mate!" George also calls out, pausing the film specifically to turn and shout at Arthur. Hill is sat in silence with his hand to his chest, panting slightly.

"Sorry guys, I won't do it again." Arthur chuckles, still holding y/n but he loosens his grip. The film continues. "Sorry," his whispers again but just to y/n, pulling her slightly closer to direct his apology gently into her ear.

"It's okay," she giggles back quietly, nestling herself more comfortably against Arthur. He smiles to himself as his attention turns back to the TV. After a while, y/n pulls the blanket up to her nose.

"Is it my breath?" Arthur jokes quietly.

"No no, my nose is cold," she muffles, which is true.

"Lemme see." Arthur replies, pulling the blanket off her face and pressing his nose against hers. "Oh yeah.' he whispers sweetly, his face lingering there for a moment as his warm breath fans her face. She pauses, even her pulse. He tilts his face to the side slightly and slowly leans in further, his lips not even an inch away from hers, before George chokes on his water. The sudden noise causing the pair to jump. They had almost forgotten that there are others present.

George sputters as Hill smacks him on the back. "Sorry. Wrong hole," he sheepishly croaks.

"Now we have to rewind because you forgot how to drink, a basic human task!" Hill whines.

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry," George murmurs, reaching for the remote and getting the film to where it was before it was interrupted. Y/n and Arthur share a look. Both sporting a shy smile, both wondering if the other could hear the other's heart pounding.

A jump scare happens and the whole room jumps, y/n is startled so much so that she grips Arthur's thigh in a panic. His eyes go wide. Her hand feels perfect on him, half over his shorts' leg and the other half on his bare skin - which feels like it's burning under her touch. His tongue swipes over his lower lip nervously. She realises what she's doing and slowly releases her grip, adjusting the blanket as an excuse to pull her hand away. She notes to herself how firm and hairy Arthur's thigh is, so rugged compared to his soft demeanour. "Scared?" He whispers teasingly in her ear.

"No..." She retorts, almost silently. He squeezes her closer to him sweetly and chuckles.

"Cute." Did he just say... Did she hear that right? She can't help the smile creep on her lips either way.

After the movie finishes, the group take a few moments to discuss what they think of the ending. Y/n is distracted by her phone pinging, so she leans over to check it, laying on her side but still curled up under the blanket. It’s a text from Chip, hardly making any sense.

‘I’m home and a live heehe was nice meetin you proper today. u should ask author out you wld be so leng leng together xxxx’

Y/n thanks him for the fun day and a good night message, returning her full attention back to the group conversation but staying laid on her side. “Y/n looks like a little cinnamon bun over there, you tired from the pub golfing?” Hill asks. Arthur turns his gaze back to her, his heart melting a little at how cozy she looks.

“A little tired, yeah,” y/n answers before yawning. The three golfers tell Hill about their day, each with their own little anecdotes. Arthur does a lot of the talking, keeping his voice lower for Chris’s sake. It sounds like liquid gold. Listening to the boys’ chatter, y/n feels her eyes getting heavy as her blinks get slower. And slower. And slower.

--------

Her eyes gradually open, thankfully only a tinge of a headache surrounding her, all thanks to Hill’s insistence of drinking water from the previous night. The morning rays cascade on her through the windows of the boys’ living room. She gently sits up and looks over her shoulder, confused to see a pillow behind her that she definitely hadn’t placed the night before. When she faces forward again, she can see Arthur laying on his back on the other couch, staring intensely at his phone. When she squints her eyes, she can just make out a chess game on his screen. “Morning,” she yawns, startling him out of his match.

“Oh! Morning y/n,” Arthur replied, casually locking his phone and rolling over to face her. Abandoning a game that just now, he was so focused on. “Did you sleep alright?”

“I did,” she replies and a groggy smile, “although I really need to brush my teeth.”

“Me too, I’ll see if the guys have any spare toothbrushes for us.” Arthur replies, before stretching and hopping to his feet. He shuffles out of sight before y/n leans over and grabs her phone. It’s almost dead, so she grabs the portable charger from her postbag and sits back on the sofa. Upon plugging it in, she notices a text from George from the early hours of the morning.

“Cuties 🥹”

With a photo attached. She clicks the message for a better look and her eyes nearly bug out of her head. The photo is of her laying asleep curled up on the sofa, phone in hand. However, Arthur was big-spooning her, in almost the fact same curled up position. She zooms in on the photo to see his arm is sandwiched between and his face is all squishy from his position - he was fast asleep too. She hearts the photo and saves it to her phone, feeling giddy. However, soon after she stops to think. ‘If he was lying with me here, why was he on the other sofa when I woke up?’ She starts to worry herself, scared she farted or snored or something and gave him the ick.

“Well that’s not the face of a morning person.” George stated, standing in the living room in just sweatpants and a baggy T shirt. His croaky voice startles y/n slightly before she chuckles.

“Just in deep thought,” she replies.

“About what, the photo?” George asks. Y/n shushes him and waves her hand at him aggressively. George rolls his eyes.

“Relax y/n, I walked past Chris’s room just now and they’re both gassing about Lord of the Rings stuff.” Which makes y/n grin. George takes a seat next to her on the sofa. “The photo’s pretty simple, he fell asleep next to you.”

“Yeah,” y/n nodded, “but what happened?”

“Not sure entirely, I was chatting to Hill and realised Television was suspiciously quiet, when we looked over we saw you two spooning.” George explains, “we figured we’d leave you both to your sleepy time and both headed to bed ourselves. We left spare toothbrushes out for you by the way.”

Y/n stands up and yawns. “Thanks Clarkey” she sends him a half smile before making her way to the bathroom.

“Wait,” he starts, “Looks like Arthur slept on this couch.” he gestures to the pillows and disarrayed blankets on the other sofa.

“Yeah I think he did, did you see him get up at all before you went to bed?” Y/n asks quietly, fully aware she’s closer to Chris’s room now.

“I didn’t, like I said, you were cozied up when we last saw you.” he replies. Y/n pauses to think, eyes serious. “If you’re worried, just ask him mate,” George suggests. Y/n nods and heads to Chris’s room. George shakes his head with a smirk and whispers “Young love” to himself.

When y/n gets to Chris’s doorway, she can tell the boys are in deep conversation. As soon as Chris locks eyes with her, he clears his throat.

“Oh, good morning y/n. You sleep well?” he asks, his voice higher than usual.

“I did thanks, sorry to interrupt the hobbit talk,” she starts, making the boys chuckle. Arthur struggles not to stare, but he can’t believe how good she looks first thing in the morning, although it doesn’t surprise him. “Arthur, there are toothbrushes awaiting us.”

They head to the bathroom and brush their teeth in a comfortable silence. When they're both finished and put their toothbrushes back in the spare glass, the brush heads happen to be pressed together. "Look," Arthur points, giggling, "our brushes are smooching!" Making y/n laugh. Arthur beams proudly, admiring how unreserved her smile is. Just before they head out, y/n psyches herself up and reaches for the hem of Arthur's shirt.

“Hey, before we go back out there, I have to ask you something.” His hand is already on the door handle, but he stops himself and turns to face her, feeling his chest tighten.

“Sure, what’s up?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I hate to be awkward, but George sent me a photo from last night.” She begins, unlocking her phone to pull the photo up.

“Is it the one of us asleep on the couch? George sent me the same one.” Arthur chuckles shyly, sliding his hands in his shorts pockets and finding it hard to look in y/n’s direction. His face quickly drops and a look of anxiety washes over him, thinking he's in trouble. “I am so, so sorry for that. I must’ve fallen asleep before I could even realise-”

“Oh that’s okay Arthur, really. I thought it was quite cute.” Y/n assures him. Colour starts to flood back to his face as he finally looks at her, a small smile tugs one corner of his mouth with relief.

“I was more curious to know what happened after you first fell asleep, I noticed you switched sofas during the night,” she explains, searching his face for an answer before he even speaks.

“I see,” Arthur nods slowly, and he begins to explain:

“I’m not sure when I fell asleep but when I woke up, I was still laying behind you, like in the photo. You were fast asleep and I kind of panicked. I didn’t want you to wake up and see I was laying up against you without any consent and think I was a weirdo or something. So I figured I should move to the other couch and hoped you’d not know about the accidental spooning. I very carefully got up from the couch. You looked comfy, but I could only imagine the neck ache you’d wake up with. So I grabbed a pillow from the floor and very carefully lifted your head and slipped it under. You looked so much comfier then. Then I got on my couch and I guess I fell asleep straight away, as I can't remember much else.”

Y/n sighs, she smiles and shakes her head. “You’re so sweet, you really are.” They look at each other for what feels like minutes. Arthur’s glances switch between her eyes and her lips. She steps towards him, her gaze never leaving his sweet smile. A knock on the bathroom door brings them both back down to earth. “Are you guys done? Sorry but I need a shit.” Chris’s voice is heard in the other side. The pair giggle before Arthur rolls his eyes and opens the door. He stands to the side to let y/n leave first but Chris barges in mumbling an apology. When the pair walk back out to the open living area, George is preparing breakfast. "Oh, there you two are," he smiles, "I'm just about to make some grub, would either of you like any?" Y/n politely shakes her head.

"I'm okay for now thank you, I should really head home and get out of this uniform before I stink the country up anymore!" She replies.

"I should go and shower too, do you want to share an Uber? I'll pay." Arthur offers.

"We can go halves." She grins back, then unzips the dog onesie places it on the sofa. As she does so, the smell of Arthur's aftershave mixed with a hint of beer breezes past her, a harsh reminder of just how much she fancies the man.

They head to where their shoes were discarded, preparing to leave. "Just so you know, you smell lovely." He whispers, his eyes then suddenly widening. "I mean- that sounded creepy- I just mean that you don't smell bad! You- you won't stink up the country!" He then blabbers, bringing his palm to his forehead with a disappointed grin.

"Thank you Arthur," she replies with a genuine tone and smile, letting him know that he's not a creep.

"Speaking of smell," Arthur starts, turning to face towards the bathroom, "Bye Chris, enjoy your shit!" A muffled 'fuck off' is heard retaliating from across the flat.

"Bye guys!" y/n adds on between laughs, she faces George "Please say bye to Hilly for me when he wakes up." George waves his spatula playfully, like a suburban wife waving out her husband.

"Good bye, loooove you!" He calls out in a soft, higher pitched voice.

The Uber doesn't take long at all to arrive outside the boys' building. Arthur rushes ahead of y/n, holding the door open for her. She bows her head as if to thank him and climbs in, Arthur following behind her. When y/n gives the driver her address, Arthur is shocked to realise that she only lives a 20 minute walk away from his place. With nothing but the hum of the car engine for a short while, Arthur breaks the silence. "You know, it's refreshing to meet someone who is just as nice in person as they seem in their videos."

Y/n is surprised by the sudden compliment. "Same goes to you," she replies, "and you really do go wild after only a couple of drinks." She then chuckles.

"You should give me your number, I'm sure Isaac, Italianbach, would love to have you as a guest on our Bach and Arthur podcast. We can set something up." Arthur cleverly tests the waters, still unsure if she likes him or is just super nice.

"Great idea!" Y/n chirps, holding her hand out for his phone. He passes it over and watches her type with a smirk. When she hands it back to him, he grins to himself we notices that she saved her name as:

'Y/n 🐶✉️'

"Very nice." He states, amused. Sending her a text immediately that makes her giggle:

'Woof woof 😉'

They talk amongst themselves about upcoming videos, y/n is excited to hear that Arthur plans on playing another Dress to Impress with the boys. Arthur notices that the driver is heading to his place first. "Do you want a coffee at mine, we can walk to yours after as it's basically just around the corner." He offers with a wholesome smile.

"I would love to, but I desperately want to have a shower before I see some of my friends this afternoon." She replies, a hint of disappointment in her tone. "Otherwise, coffee would be nice." Unfortunately for both of them, Arthur doesn't quite realise at the time that y/n is suggesting they go for coffee sometime, like a date.

Arthur only nods though, "That's fair enough. Well I'll text you about the podcast soon at least." He smiles, although if she were someone who knew him better, she'd notice the slight pensiveness behind his eyes. He wonders to himself whether she's actually busy or just rejecting him kindly. Though later that day when he follows her on Instagram, he'll see from her story that she was telling the truth.

As the Uber turns to Arthur's street and starts pulling over, Arthur gives y/n a tap on her leg. "Don't worry about paying me half by the way, it's my treat." He tells her, still wanting to be chivalrous as ever despite his self doubt.

"You don't have to, but thank you" y/n replies, feeling warmer than she did five seconds ago.

"I'm glad Chris invited you to pub golf, it was fantastic meeting you" Arthur states, words oozing in y/n's ears like warm honey, as he reaches out to shake her hand.

"You too Arthur, have a lovely day" She replies sweetly, taking his hand to shake it before boldly pulling him towards her and pecking his cheek, slightly catching the outer corner of his lips too. Arthur rushes to unbuckle his seatbelt and step out the car before y/n can notice his face turning scarlet. As the Uber pulls away, y/n turns to watch Arthur walk toward his building, noticing his hand is pressed to his cheek with a dopey smile on his face.

--------

Over the next few weeks, y/n and Arthur message each other animal facts and videos about dinosaurs and general science back and forth. They also plan her appearance on the podcast. One day, Arthur sends her a random Instagram post of a postman cuddling a puppy and adding 'it's us 🥹' to the message, making y/n go fuzzy inside.

When Chris uploads the pub golf video almost a whole month after filming it that fateful day. Y/n reads the comments with rosy cheeks, completely unaware that 'basically just around the corner', Arthur is sat on his computer chair doing the same.

Commenter 1: omg did you see the way Arthur looked at y/n????? ↳ Commenter 2: Fr fr he was smitten

Commenter 3: get y/n and Arthur in a team next time Chris

Commenter 4: y/nTV is going to happen I’m calling it now!!!!!!

Commenter 5: 23:37 chip says 'bros in love' DID ANYONE ELSE HEAR THAT ↳ Commenter 6: Right? That had to be about y/n!

Commenter 7: there's definitely some tension between y/n and arthur 😏😏 did you SEE that arm wrestle

Commenter 8: Y/N FREDERICK IS HAPPENING. feel free to come back to my comment in like 4 years time when they announce their wedding in a museum :)

--------

With both of them being too awkward to blatantly ask the other out or even admit their feelings, they continue their mix of friendship and flirtationship while their YouTube circle watches on in frustration. That's when Arthur Hill then decides to invite y/n to join him, Arthur TV, and George on a platform roulette video.

♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥

[PART THREE]

A/n: Here is part two! Thanks so much to everyone for their sweet reception of part one. I feel like this one wasn't as good, but please let me know still if you'd like a part 3! ♥ Tag: @ooostarwarsfandom501st - Gabby xo

[sugawhaaa]

HAN ONE-SHOT

⭐️🖤Naughty boy🖤⭐️

Warnings//genre::SMUT! roleplay, praise and degradation, edging, mommy dynamic, dacryphilia (Like big time)

Pairing:: sub!Han x dom!fem!reader

A/N:: this fanfic is so special in the sense that it's not like super dom and sub but there is still that control and loss of control feeling. Idk how to explain it but it's just so sweet and sexy at the same time 😭 also this is way shorter than I had planned sorry

Skz masterlist:: 🖤

🎧::

Han didn't expect much after such an eventful day. It was Christmas day and Han woke up super early, just like a kid, to open all the presents, you cooked breakfast, took a nap at lunchtime, and ate lunch at like 2 pm then got ready to go to Han's parents' place for dinner and socialized for way too damn long.

When you got home Han flopped onto his bed, groaning as he tore off his clothes, leaving him in his pants. He wasn't sure where you went, just that you were in the bathroom for a while, so long so that he got worried.

"Hey babe, you good?" He sits up on the bed to call for you only to see you leaning against the door frame in Christmas lingerie. "O-Oh," his eyes widened as his lips visibly parted. His cheeks glow red as he straightens his posture on the bed, chuckling lowly. "Is this my last gift of the day? My present from Santa for being good?" He smiles as you close the door with your foot and begin to walk over to him but he can instantly tell from the way you present yourself that he gravely misread this situation.

"I'd say it's more...discipline," you smirk before adjusting your latex glove. Han laughs awkwardly as he scoots up the bed, further away from you but you quickly pin him down and he jumps. "For all the naughty things I didn't catch you doing," you explain, and Han chuckles awkwardly again.

"I've been good," he nods with those big doe eyes, pleading for mercy. You tilt your head with a cocked brow.

"Really now? Then we can go through your private laptop then," he sit on his lap and reach for his laptop to which he quickly grabs your wrist.

"Hehe...babe I don't think you'll wanna see..." he blushes but it's no use; you open his laptop and go through his search history and browsers. Hundreds of kinky porn videos and hentai loaded up his laptop. You raise an eyebrow at him as he lets the bed swallow him whole in shame. "I-I can explain," he chuckles before biting his lip. You then click on one of the videos, allowing it to play into the awkwardly quiet room.

The laptop then began moaning and begging but not in a female voice, but a male.

"Please, I'll be a good boy," the laptop cries out and you raise a brow at Han.

"I don't only watch that kind of stuff!" Han desperately explains but you click on another video. Two guys...

"It's too big!" The man cries out and Han's face burns and just as he tries to explain himself the laptop moans loudly. You pause the video.

"Ready to admit you've been a naughty boy?" You tilt your head and Han pouts slightly, nodding. You close the laptop and set it back on the nightstand. "And you agree you deserve at least a little punishment for this?" Han sighs in response.

"Fine," he pouts but on the inside, he's over the moon excited for what you're going to do to him. You get him completely undressed and make him wait on the bed as you bring over the bin of toys. You sort through to find a bottle of lube but not any regular lube, this lube creates a warm, tingly sensation when applied; Han doesn't know this though.

You squirt a little bit onto his tip before massaging it in. He leans back with a deep moan, pleasure already taking him in a deep grasp. As you massage his cock he notices the warm, tingling sensations and it's overwhelmingly pleasurable. "Baby i-is this a new kind of lube?" He asks shyly and looks up at you with doe eyes.

"Yes, it is~" You grab the lube and apply a bit more and he moans louder, his back arched and chest puffed. "Can you feel the warming effect?" You ask with a hint of mischief and he nods.

"Y-Yeah..." he tosses his head back. "'Feels good," he nods and you smile with a little smirk as you move your hand faster.

"That's good baby," you say as his moans grow harsher and your hand moves faster. His face contorted in pleasure as his balls began to tighten, but it was still too early...right? His cock began to twitch in your hand and you felt the throb of his veins against your palm.

"I-I think..." Han blushes but he knows he doesn't have to say anything for you to understand. You begin to move your palm faster and Han lets out a whine. "O-Oh god!" He reaches out mindlessly to find something to grab onto. His hand finds your skirt and he tugs on it hard. "Oh don't stop!" He cries out as his legs shake slightly.

"what would you do if I did?" You tease and he whines loudly.

"Fuck, I don't know, probably cry," He croaks out along with some stutters. You tilt your head as he continues to moan, his lips quivering slightly; perhaps that was a sight you wanted to see. Jisungie sobbing so prettily below you. Your hand subconciously slows as you imagine how fucked up you could make him. "No god, please no!" He cries out but it's already too late, his climax already washing away as your hands lose contact with his body.

Han tosses his head back with a sound that's a mix between a groan and a sigh. He pouts softly as he stares up at the ceiling, his cock still twitching every now and then. "Why'd you stop?" He whines, silently pleading for you to resume the torture.

"You'll see," You smirk and a chill runs down his spine. You stand up and retrieve some restraints; it's ironic because Han bought them to use on you but he seem to always be the one tied up in the silky ropes of pleasure. Han whines as he sees you bring out his arch nemesis, however he doesn't resist; at this point he knows better than to protest his mistress.

You get hans wrists tied up to the headboard of the bed and he's already a squirming, whining mess. It seems that even after all the nights he's been chained, cuffed and tied he still can't keep still. Han bucks his hips up against nothing, pleading you to give him some attention.

"Please touch me baby, please I'll do anything right now," He looks up at you with that look. The look of raw desperation and weakness, he is completely under your spell.

"Is that so? Then say it," You lean closer to him, your body hovering over him, ghosting over his skin.

"S-Say what?" He looks distraught as he pulls himself closer to you.

"you know exactly what," You smirk and a realization dawns upon him.

"Please mommy, I'll be good, I promise," He pleads helplessly, his voice cracking which makes him blush. "Use me, hurt me, fuck me I don't care just make me cum," He looks up at you with those eyes again, as if he were trying to communicate through his eyes, begging for you. You think for a moment; he just gave you a lot of ideas didn't he? Fuck him? That sounds fun but you did that like last week. Hurt him? Nah he's too sooky for that right now. Then perhaps...use him?

"Alright, since you asked so nicely," You smile and he grins wide. You then lean down before abruptly sucking him into your mouth. His whole body jerks forward, pulling on the restraints.

"Fuck! W-Why do you always do that?" He whines, his bottom lip jutting out unintentionally.

You start by just sucking his tip but quickly make your way down until he's stuffed into your mouth. Meanwhile Han is having a crisis over the amount of pleasure he's in. The warmth of your mouth, the way you pull his cock with your lips, your throat tightening and loosening around his cock, how much longer can he last? He pulls on the restraints hard, leaving red marks on his wrists, as his body squirms around to follow the pleasure you bring him. "Baby-Mommy I think I-I," Han attempts to warn you about the incoming flood of cum he's built up but you quickly pull off his cock and he whines loudly again. You abruptly grab his jaw, a little forceful, but not too much. You can feel his breath against your hand, coming in and out in a rapid pace, as the pulse in his neck throbs against your hand, signaling at his racing heart from the adrenline.

"You cum when I say you can cum. Got it?" You tilt you head and he whines softly as he nods. "Good boy," You kiss his jaw and you hear the whimper he holds in his throat. You throw your leg over him to straddle him and he looks up at you with a different look this time, one of excitement and lust. You adjust your skirt to reveal you were wearing nothing under it the whole time. Jisung's face flushes as he sees your lack of clothing. You then position yourself over him, his cock aligned with your slit. You begin to sink down on his cock, the two of you moaning in unison as his cock fills you. You let out a deep breath before beginning to rock your hips very softly. Jisung groans as he feels his tip rubbing up against your hilt and a grin of pleasure spreads across his face.

It's not long before you find yourself hopping on Han, not quite bouncing, but you were coming up and down on him. He tugs at the restraints again as he arches his back and you feel his cock twitching inside you.

"C-Can I cum soon?" He looks up at you with doe eyes that you literally can't say no to.

"Soon baby," You stroke his cheek softly and he let's out a pathetic whine. He then tosses his head back nd you can tell by his expression it's taking everything in him to not burst right then and there. You begin to ride him harder, the sound of your skin clapping together echoes in the room.

"Please!" He sobs out before groaning, "I can't, I can't~" as tears build on his lashes. Your eyes widen at the sight but you could tell he wasn't in pain, no, he was loving this. He looks directly into your eyes as tear falls along the curve of his cheek. Han then squints his shut and tears pour down his cheeks, his orgasm hitting him like a tidal wave. "Fuck!" He cries as his hands slip out of the restraints to pull you close. His arms wrap around your chest as he moans loudly and breathlessly into your ear. He then faintly whispers "Thank you," before resting his head on your shoulder.

you were momentarily frozen but you snap out of it and wrap your arms around him.

"Your welcome," You smile and he nuzzles into your neck, moaning softly.

"You just look so sexy in this," He tugs at your lingerie and you blush with a little smile.

[delilahsturniolo]

ᝰ.ᐟ NEW CLASSIFIED MISSION FILE . . .

★ secretagent!chris x secretagent!reader

⋆˚࿔ “JEALOUS, SUNSHINE?”

in which . . . chris flirts with another girl on a mission, and you get jealous

contains . . . just a bit of angst but nothing more!

written by @delilahsturniolo, do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

view more of this au here!

it’s supposed to be a simple intel grab. you and chris are posted up at a rooftop bar in monaco, tails on a weapons trafficker with loose lips and a fondness for blondes. unfortunately, so does chris. you’re watching through binoculars from across the bar, tracking the target’s security detail. chris is supposed to be staying close, blending in, observing, ready to extract the guy’s access card when the timing’s right.

instead, he’s laughing. laughing with the target’s date. touching her arm. leaning in like he’s known her his whole damn life. you lower the binoculars so fast you almost knock over your drink. “he’s flirting,” you mutter into the comms, so people back at headquarters can hear. chris’s voice crackles back in your earpiece, all smug and easy. “relax, sunshine. just getting her comfortable.”

“you’re drooling on her.”

“can’t help it,” he says. “she’s got great taste in suits.” you grind your teeth. “you’re not even wearing a suit. you’re in a jacket that looks like it came from a clearance bin.”

a low chuckle. “jeez, sunshine. that sounded almost… bitter.” you stand up from the table, ignoring the pounding in your chest, and stalk across the terrace like you’ve got something to prove. he sees you coming. of course he does. you slide in next to him, offering the woman your most professional smile. “sorry to interrupt. shadow, i need a word.”

“can it wait?” he asks, lips twitching. “we were just getting to the part where she tells me her hotel room number.” you smile tighter. “nope. now.” he gives the woman an apologetic shrug and follows you toward the edge of the rooftop, where the city lights blur into gold. the second you’re out of earshot, you round on him. “what the hell was that?” he raises an eyebrow. “you mean me doing my job?”

“you were enjoying it.”

“yeah. that’s called charisma. it’s useful in undercover work.”

you cross your arms. “you touched her arm.”

“wow,” he says, eyes glinting. “jealous, sunshine?” you scoff. “please. i’ve seen you flirt with vending machines. doesn’t mean i care.” he steps in closer, not quite touching, but enough to make your breath hitch. “then why are your ears red?”

“they’re not.”

“they are.”

you look away, jaw clenched. “just keep it professional, chris. the last thing we need is you catching feelings for the first rich girl who gives you attention.” he laughs. it’s low and warm and a little infuriating. “oh, sunshine. you think i want her?” you glance at him. he’s close now. too close. “don’t,” you say quietly. “don’t what?”

“don’t call me that right now.”

he tilts his head, studying you. and for once, he drops the act, no smirk, no joke. just something real behind his eyes. “you’re the only one i call that.” you swallow hard, heart kicking up like you’ve just been thrown into a sprint. but you don’t say anything. you can’t.

he leans in like he might say something else, like he might do something, but then the comms crackle again. “target on the move. heading downstairs.” the spell breaks. you both step back, masks sliding back into place.

“i’ve got the keycard,” he says, tapping his pocket. “you take lead.” you nod, slipping past him, ignoring the heat in your cheeks, the thud in your chest, the fact that for one tiny second, it felt like he might’ve kissed you. and that you might’ve let him.

© delilahsturniolo

[catiuskaa]

horny kitchen [not hell's this time].

SUMMARY: whenever you were home, he wasn’t. it wasn’t totally your fault if that had made you believe he was never home in the first place, but it sure had lead into an interesting meeting.

WC: 1.7k

CW: crack! felix and olivia as cupids (i love them), mentions of alcohol, mentions of the movie After: Ever Happy, slight Changlix showing up, drunken courage, nsfw! marking, dry humping.

REQUESTED! by annonie right here. i had fun, tysm, pookie!

[☆🔹🛋️🔹☆]

“Tell me you were kidding.”

You stared at Felix’s puzzled face, his hands on your shoulders, and Olivia passed her hands through her hair as she leaned against your room’s door, shutting it close.

“What— why would I lie?” You frowned, smiling in confussion. “I wasn’t kidding. We’ve just never really talked, and I only know one or two things about him.” You repeated, and watched as your friends both made the same exhasperated grin, and then shared a look that only them, brother and sister, were able to decipher.

“Your roomate, who’s basically famous in our college, who looks like— like that,” Olivia stated, stumbling on her words. “And you haven’t had a normal chat? Not even about the weather?”

You shrugged. “Not that I remember, no. He doesn’t look like he’s a fan of small talk.”

They had both stared at you with wide eyes when you opened the door and the figure of a tall man with short hair surprised you at the other side.

“Oh, right,” you had smiled, turning to introduce him to your friends. “He’s my roomate, Hyunjin. I texted you a while back to check if they could come over, remember?” You said softly at him, and he smiled, nodding.

“Right, yeah. Sorry that I can’t stay, I have someone waiting for me downstairs. It was nice to meet you.” He had greeted, as politely as he had smiled, and rushed to catch the elevator again.

And that had been it.

“God, he looks like a model.” Felix sighed as he took his jacket off, blinking slowly, as if trying to comprehend what he had seen. “He looks like he travels to Italy and France during fashion week. What the fuck, he looks like he knows when fashion week is.”

“He’s like a hundred times better than the last guy you dated,” Olivia chimed back, and you frowned at the mention of your ex. “Don’t look at me like that. Babe, tell me that at least you find him attractive.”

“Sure. He’s good looking.” Felix deadpanned at you, and you huffed. “Okay, fine! He’s really hot, yeah, I have eyes, you know?”

Olivia and Felix snickered, and you pouted, snickering too, grabbing a pillow from your bed and yeeting it at him.

“I didn’t come here to see you drool over Hyunjin, guys. It’s bad movie Sunday, and we have to watch After 4. I need this to finish soon.” You giggled cheekily.

“I’ll go get the shots!” Olivia smiled with enthusiasm as she went to grab three shot glasses and a bottle of cheap wine you kept.

“I thought we were gonna watch Twilight?” You saw Felix smile, taking his shoes of as he sat on the bed.

He rolled his eyes in amusment, faking pettiness while you turned on the computer and looked for the movie.

“Liv likes the saga, we can’t.” You chuckled. “Maybe she starts crying when Cedric Diggory starts pouring glitter over his face or something.”

“Have I heard disrespect against Robbert Pattinson?!” She yelled from the kitchen, and you two cackled loudly.

You settled your laptop on your desk and used your chair as a table to keep the glasses and wine on.

“Shot rules?” Olivia pondered, taking her shoes off and getting comfortable, much like Felix, who was stealing all the pillows and cushions and settling them behind his back.

“Seungmin said that a shot for every red flag was fine.” You shrugged.

“Seungmin watched After?” Olivia wondered in slight shock.

“Of course, he loves to complain about anything.” You mocked slyly. “But you guys aren’t driving back, right?”

Felix handled the movie blanket, hiding everything except his eyes and his nose under it.

“Bin has to drive this way to get home from the studio. He said he could take us.”

You smiled.

“Let’s get this over with,” Olivia chimed with a snicker.

[☆🔹🛋️🔹☆]

Tipsy could be an understatement. That, you had to admit. But only to yourself, because to your drunk mind, getting to that level of drunkness —just because of the walking red flag the love interest in the movie was— seemed a little lame on your side.

“‘m ok, livvie,” you smiled at Olivia and her skeptical look. “I won’t even drive.”

Changbin huffed in amusement, passing one of Felix’s arms over his shoulders as the very much freckled very much drunk man started pouting his lips.

“i wan’ kis, binn…” he blabbered messily.

“Why did we do a drinking game,” his sister mumbled, rubbing her eyes, clearly showing much more control on downing wine shots.

“Harvey burned his mom’s house! I mean, we clearly had to drink twice because of that.” Felix said in a hiccup, then clung back to Changbin.

You messily bid goodbye to the Lee brothers and the poor designated driver that carried Felix with Lix’s arm over his shoulder, closed the door and waddled back to your room.

The main issue movies like After had —aside from its preposterous attempt at trying to take itself seriously— was the copious amount of long and dull sex scenes.

Well. They seemed “dull” when you were sober.

But the thought of them brought naughty ideas to your just-a-bit-willy-nilly-tipsy body.

As if someone had been there staring at you, sitting in a dim-lit corner of your room, not bothering if it was late at night or if your door was wide open, your hands trailed down to the zip of your jeans, and you bit your lip, drunkily teasing yourself, lowering the fabric slowly down your hips, and letting it plop down on the floor with a soft thud.

The idea had been to take a step back and kick the clothing away, but you accidentally hit one of your bed’s legs, and cursed loudly, half because of the weirded out drunkness who had forgot that was there in the first place, but you shook it off, not actually in pain.

You shook your head, and continued with the frenzy, enticingly tickling your sides when reaching for your shirt and slowly took it off, letting it down next to your pants, as if leaving a happy trail that headed to your closet, one you opened and took an oversized shirt you usually wore to bed.

But sleeping with a bra on was not the smartest move. The clip started stining and the tag on its side started itching, so with a quick snap and a perky throw, you giggled, still a bit drunk, but starting to turn sober enough to start craving water.

You passed your oversized shirt over your head, turning to face your door when the long fabric covered your body.

Covered from a surprised and flustered pair of dark brown eyes, iris so dark that his pupils, blown out and enticing, almost devoured it whole.

“Hyun…jin?”

His hair was the messiest you had ever seen from him, dressed in his pj’s, some old blue squared-pattered pants that he got gifted a couple of Christmas ago. Solely the pants.

The waistband of his underwear, brand name staring at you like a deer in headlights. And even so, it wasn’t as intense as how that teasing little mole on his tummy.

Mmh. You wanted to kiss it.

“Ah… I uh…” he mumbled, messily so, enough for you to notice.

“Oh. Y’re drunk too.”

He smiled wryly, nodding.

It was a bit blank, how you two ended up in the kitchen. Your brain fuzzy, enjoying the alcohol that lingered in your system. Dazed, you feel two warm hands on your waist, and how they turn you around and sit you on the counter.

“Y’know?” Hyunjin smirks, and you notice you could almost taste the drinks he had taken from how close he was. “It’s s’weird how we never… uh… talk, mmh.”

Your breath hitches, his hands not leaving your waist, stroking and teasingly caressing underneath your shirt, that had ridden up from when you sat.

“Talk?” You mumble giddily.

“Yeah. It’s stupid. How can I live with someone so hot and barely say good morning?”

The way he states the sentence, as if it was something as factual and axiomatical as one plus one, baffles you almost as fast as the speed your cheeks turn red.

He snickers, watching you turn to putty in his hands. “I heard moans when I arrived.” The stupid movie. “For a moment, I thought it was you and it made me wild.”

Hyunjin leans his forehead against yours, his lips barely an inch away from temptation. You.

Cheekily, he moves even closer to the counter, until he’s slotted between your legs. He slides you over the counter, pressing you against him.

“Hyune…”

It’s a mumble, its slurred, and he drinks it up like he’s been thirsty for days. Neither of you are too sure of what’s happening, but it’s easy to say neither of you care enough about that now when his lips find yours.

Like he said, wild. You can’t be sure if it’s the moonlight that hits him from the kitchen’s window of the alcohol that gives him such freedom to kiss you in a way that, for a second, you feel like he’s going to eat you alive.

But he’s got it clear. He needs you, he’s been waiting for the moment you two would finally speak like human beings and stop behaving like robots who share comparments, barely addressing the other. He’s sick and tired of it, tired of waiting, and sick, because he’s been craving you for what seems like weeks, even months, and Hyunjin knows he can’t hold back any longer.

You’re both drunk, and maybe you shouldn’t, but how could he stop when you drop from the counter and his thigh fits perfectly between your legs? How could he stop, when he wants nothing but to tore your shirt to shreds and mark as much skin as he can see? How could he stop, when he’s been waiting for so long to let go?

“A-ah, Hyun…”

And he’s gone. One little whimper from you, and he knows that one thing’s for sure.

He’s not stopping until you come for him for the night.

Besides. There’s plenty other nights to keep having more fun.

[☆🔹🛋️🔹☆]

~kats, who in reality should be tiding up her room, but will most definetely keep reading the pjo pdf she found.

catiuskaa, september 2024

PERMANENT TAGLIST! @stayconnecteed @lyramundana

[lakesbian]

nobody move. i've just successfully articulated the sentiment that taylor's power turns her into a panopticon because she was living in one & explained her trigger in a way i feel satisfied with for the first time in my life

the concept of the panopticon is not just about surveillance, but about creating an environment where people cannot be sure whether or not they are being surveilled, and thus must constantly act under the assumption that they are. which is exactly what happened to taylor--we see from when we first meet her in the school that she's anticipating attack from every possible direction to avoid it, and the one time she lets her guard down a fraction and assumes she's found a safe spot to hide from abuse, she's targeted with the juice spills. and this is after her trigger event, but it's clear she behaves this way because it was beaten into her over the entire course of the bullying. it's what she describes when she recounts the trigger:

“I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.  But I made a friend, one of the girls who had sometimes joined in on the taunting came to me and apologized.  ...  Her approaching me and befriending me was one of the big reasons I could think the harassment was ending.  I never really let my guard down around her, but she was pretty cool about it. “And for most of November and the two weeks of classes before Christmas break, nothing.  They were leaving me alone.  I was able to relax.” I sighed, “That ended the day I came back from the winter break. I knew, instinctually, that they were playing me, that they were waiting before they pulled their next stunt, so it had more impact. I didn’t think they’d be so patient about it. I went to my locker, and well, they’d obviously raided the bins from the girls bathrooms or something, because they’d piled used pads and tampons into my locker. Almost filled it.”

the precise moment when she stopped consciously anticipating and preparing to react to abuse--when she relaxed, when she stopped acting as if the lack of danger didn't mean that she couldn't still be hurt at any time--is when she was brutally reminded that she's never safe. she's still in the panopticon. she isn't literally being watched every second, she isn't literally in lifelong danger of having her vulnerabilities exploited, but it feels like she is. she can never ever be sure she's safe.

so she triggers, and she gets a power that turns her into a panopticon, and lets her watch everyone right back. it lets her regain control by turning her into a source of danger that could attack anywhere, from any direction, any time, fully unexpected.

& the reason her power enables her to watch Everyone--not just a single person, or a few people--but Everyone, is that the other major aspect of her trigger is the trauma of facts like this:

“It was pretty obvious that they had done it before the school closed for Christmas, by the smell alone. I bent over to throw up, right there in a crowded hallway, everyone watching. Before I could recover or stop losing my breakfast, someone grabbed me by the hair, hard enough it hurt, and shoved me into the locker.”

"All I could think was that someone had been willing to get their hands that dirty to fuck with me, but of all the students that had seen me get shoved in the locker, nobody was getting a janitor or teacher to let me out."

for months, for years, she was in a community where everyone regularly witnessed her humiliation and abuse, and everyone, dozens and dozens of kids and teachers, either contributed to it or was knowingly, silently complacent. this is what sticks with her: the idea that she is so universally reviled, so deserving of revile, that any crowd of witnesses would, without hesitation, consign her to the filth of the locker.

what else is she supposed to conclude, but that everyone she interacts with is a threat? that she can't drop her guard ever again, because no one will be coming to help her if she does? of course she has to become the panopticon. of course she has to watch everyone, all of the time, if she wants to stop it from happening again. of course she has to live among the teeming lowly and crawling things she has been taught via one firm shove that she is worth less than, and of course she has to use them to watch everyone back. and it would be inaccurate to say that doing this--monitoring everything with her bugs--makes her feel safe. all it does is allow her to remain in a constant state of paranoia and traumatized hyper-vigilance more efficiently.

[ot8xbangchansgirlsblog]

ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕒𝕔𝕜🧸

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ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟: Sleeping beauty

Word count: 4094

Summary: In this chapter, Y/N wakes up after three and a half days of sleep, prompting concern from the pack, especially Chan and Changbin's mom. While the boys handle rehearsals, she cares for Y/N, ensuring she feels safe and nourished. When Chan decides to stay with Y/N, they discover her scent has returned, signaling her recovery. Y/N feels guilty about her omega duties, but the boys reassure her that her well-being comes first, leaving her eager to connect with her new family.

Y/N slept for an impressive three and a half days, a fact that didn't surprise anyone, especially Chan. Omegas usually 'hybernate' whenever they did something that tired their bodies. It was normal for them to go to sleep for days.

Day One:

On the first morning of her extended nap, the boys rose early at 6 AM, gathering their things for rehearsals. Before they left, they waited and made sure Changbin's mom had arrived safely before they could leave for work.

"Hey, Ma!" Changbin greeted his mother with a respectful bow before pulling her into a warm embrace.

"Hello, baby! How are you? How are the boys?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she stepped into the house.

"We're all doing well, thanks to you for helping us out," Changbin replied, planting a gentle kiss on her cheek as he led her into the living room where the rest of the boys were lounging.

"You don't have to thank me, dear. I'm just so excited to meet her!" she exclaimed, her enthusiasm filling the room.

"Mama Bin!" Lee Know jumped up from the couch, his smile brightening at the sight of her. "Thank you so much for doing this!"

"Oh, Lee Know! You all really don't have to thank me!" She beamed, wrapping him in a quick hug. She went around the room greeting each member that was present before she realised one was missing, "How have you all been? Where's Chan?"

Just then, Chan emerged from upstairs, his hair tousled and a sleep-deprived smile on his face.

"Did you give her her medicine?" I.N asked, noticing Chan's entrance with a raised brow.

"Yes, my love—oh! Hey, Mama Bin!" Chan replied, visibly relaxing as he spotted her.

"Christopher!" she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with joy.

"How's my favorite son-in-law doing?" she teased, causing the rest of the pack to shout a collective "Hey!" in playful protest.

Chan laughed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Just trying to survive, honestly," he admitted, and they all chuckled.

"How are you? Did you get here safely?" Chan asked, grabbing his jacket off the couch.

"Yes, I did, love! Where's the new addition to the pack? Let me see her," Changbin's mom said, placing her bag on the counter and looking around expectantly.

"She's asleep right now. She might be out for the next couple of days, so she won't be any trouble, honestly," Changbin explained, while Han set out breakfast for her on the table.

"Thank you, my dear," she said, her attention briefly shifting to Han before returning to Changbin. "Why is she going to be asleep for so long?" A frown crossed her face as she picked up a mug.

"She was a ring omega," Changbin admitted, a nervous chuckle escaping him.

"Oh dear!" she gasped, placing the mug down with concern. "Is she okay? Is she in a subdrop? Oh, the poor little thing!" Her frown deepened, making Chan feel more confident about leaving Y/N with Changbin's mom, given how delicate and caring she already was.

"She's not fully in a subdrop; she's just really quiet and doesn't have a scent at the moment. She's also quite small for her size," Changbin huffed, glancing around for support from the group.

"Yeah, but the point is," Lee Know interjected, "we need you to just watch her and feed her lunch and dinner if we're not home early today. She might be fussy at first, but she's a really good girl. She'll listen to you."

"I already told her you're coming, and I gave her her medicine. She took her pills, but for lunch, just give her her pills again, and I'll apply her cream at night. She doesn't really like people touching her," Chan added, looking serious.

"Alright, alright. I've got this! You guys don't worry about me. I've been a mom for years; I can handle this without a hitch. Just get to work before you're late!" Changbin's mom said, playfully shooing them off.

"Please call us if she needs any of us," Felix said softly, guilt weighing heavily on him. He wanted so badly to crawl into bed with Y/N and nestle beside her, but he knew they couldn't do that.

"Don't worry, Felix, I will. I promise," she assured him, her heart warmed by his concern as the boys headed out.

Once they left, she decided to check on Y/N, wanting to make sure she was doing alright. Climbing the stairs, she moved quietly, the soft carpet muffling her footsteps. As she approached Felix's room, she hesitated for a moment, her heart fluttering with excitement and maternal instinct. Gently pushing the door open, she peered inside.

There, in the center of Felix's cozy nest, Y/N lay peacefully asleep, her hair splayed like a halo around her. She was completely enveloped in the soft blankets, looking utterly serene. The sight made Changbin's mom smile. "You are so gorgeous," she whispered, admiration lacing her voice.

Stepping closer, she adjusted the pillow beneath Y/N's head, ensuring it was positioned perfectly so that she wouldn't wake up with a stiff neck. Then, she dimmed the lights, casting a warm, inviting glow that enveloped the room. It was a small gesture, but she hoped it would make Y/N's rest even more comfortable.

Satisfied, she quietly closed the door and made her way downstairs, her mind already shifting to the next task at hand: cooking. As an alpha, she had always been more comfortable with physical tasks than culinary ones, often struggling in the kitchen compared to the innate skills many omegas possessed. Nevertheless, she approached the kitchen with determination.

Gathering ingredients, she decided to make a comforting pasta dish, knowing it would be filling and warm. As she chopped vegetables and stirred the sauce, the familiar rhythm of cooking began to calm her. The rich aroma of garlic and herbs filled the air, creating an inviting atmosphere.

As the pasta boiled, she took a moment to pause, leaning against the counter. A sense of nostalgia washed over her as she remembered times when she had cooked for Changbin and his lovers, their laughter echoing around the house. She chuckled softly, recalling a particularly chaotic dinner where Felix had accidentally spilled sauce all over himself, earning him playful teasing from the others.

With the pasta nearly ready, she turned her attention to the big-screen TV in the living room. Flipping through channels, she settled on a light-hearted cooking show, letting it play in the background. The host's cheerful banter and culinary tips provided a soothing soundtrack as she worked, and she found herself laughing at their antics. It reminded her of the joy of cooking—not just the food, but the memories made around the table.

Once the meal was ready, she plated the pasta, garnishing it with fresh basil and a sprinkle of parmesan. The vibrant colors and inviting scents brought a smile to her face. Just as she was finishing up, she heard a soft sound from upstairs—Y/N stirring in her sleep.

"Maybe I should prepare something for her too," she thought. After a moment's hesitation, she decided to whip up a small serving of pasta for Y/N, wanting to ensure she felt cared for and welcomed.

With Y/N's plate set aside, she finally allowed herself to sit down at the table, enjoying the warm food and the satisfaction of having created something special. As she ate, her thoughts drifted to Y/N—wondering about her past and what brought her to Felix and their pack. She hoped Y/N would feel safe and loved here, just as Changbin had always made her feel.

After finishing her meal, she decided to tidy up the kitchen. As she washed the dishes, she caught sight of the clock and realized time was slipping away. "I should check on Y/N again," she said to herself, drying her hands and moving back upstairs.

Entering Felix's room once more, she found Y/N had shifted, her face now slightly illuminated by the soft light. She looked so peaceful, and a wave of affection washed over Changbin's mom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she took a moment to simply watch her, feeling the warmth of her new role in this little family.

She leaned down to brush a stray hair from Y/N's forehead, feeling a protective instinct swell within her. "You're part of our family now."

With a final glance, she quietly left the room, closing the door gently behind her.

When 3:00 PM arrived, Changbin's mom made her way upstairs, her heart full of care for the young omega resting  She gently opened the door and approached the bed, where Y/N lay completely passed out, her chest rising and falling in a slow, peaceful rhythm.

"Y/N?" she called softly, shaking her gently but carefully, aware of the girl's sensitivity to touch. "Y/N, you have to wake up so you can eat a bit and take your pills." She kept her tone soothing, not wanting to startle her.

After a moment of silence, she called out again, a little louder this time. "Y/N?" This time, the sound stirred Y/N from her deep slumber, a soft groan escaping her lips.

"Hmm?" Y/N mumbled, her eyes fluttering open. Panic flickered across her face when she saw a stranger hovering nearby. Still heavy with sleep, she didn't have the energy to react.

"Hey, I'm Changbin's mom," she said with a warm smile, hoping to put Y/N at ease. "You need to eat something before you can go back to sleep."

"I don't wanna; I wanna sleep," Y/N groaned, her frustration evident as she rubbed her eyes. Her body ached, and her eyelids felt like lead weights, the side effects of both the medication and her omega powers beginning to settle in.

"I know you don't want to, pup, but you need food. Otherwise, your body won't function properly," Changbin's mom explained gently, trying to convey the importance of nourishment.

"Where's Channie?" Y/N asked, her irritation bubbling under the surface, desperate to return to her dreams.

"They all went to work, but they'll be back soon. Here, eat this for now." With that, she offered Y/N a small bowl of pasta, watching closely as Y/N hesitantly took a bite. She could tell the girl was hungry, despite her complaints. Y/N occasionally drifted off mid-bite, only to wake up moments later, groggy yet determined to finish.

"You must be so exhausted, pup," she cooed, her heart swelling with affection as Y/N swallowed her pills and leaned back against the pillows, a soft hum escaping her lips.

"I'll be back around dinner, okay?" Changbin's mom said, watching as Y/N's eyes fluttered shut once more, the exhaustion pulling her under like a gentle tide. Satisfied that she had taken care of her, Changbin's mom quietly closed the door behind her and made her way downstairs.

In the kitchen, she set about washing the dishes, the rhythmic sound of water splashing against porcelain a calming backdrop. After finishing, she settled down in the living room, turning on the TV to a light-hearted show. The laughter and chatter from the screen filled the space, as she waited for dinner time.

As the hours passed, she found herself occasionally glancing upstairs, wondering how Y/N was doing. The young omega was a delicate flower, and Changbin's mom felt a protective urge swell within her. She wanted to make sure Y/N felt safe and loved.

When dinner time rolled around, she prepared a warm, hearty meal, her thoughts focused on Y/N's needs. After everything was set, she returned to the room, softly knocking before entering. Y/N stirred, her eyes slowly opening as if awakening from a long dream.

"Hey there, sleepyhead. It's time for dinner," Changbin's mom said gently, placing the food on the bedside table.

Y/N groaned softly, but the enticing aroma of the meal seemed to pull her from her drowsiness. "Do I have to?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, you do, Just a little more, and then you can sleep again," Changbin's mom encouraged, knowing how important it was for Y/N to stay nourished.

As Y/N sat up slowly, she took a few bites, the food seemingly recharging her. Each spoonful was met with a small smile from Changbin's mom, who felt a sense of joy at seeing Y/N eat.

After finishing her meal and taking her evening pills, Y/N leaned back against the pillows, looking more comfortable yet still weary. "Are the boys coming?" she said softly, her eyes pleading.

"Of course. They'll be back soon, and they'll be so happy to see you," Changbin's mom promised, tucking the blankets around Y/N snugly. With a final reassuring smile, she left the room, closing the door gently.

As she returned to her own evening watching TV in the leaving room and slowly drifting off to sleep.

🌱🍄🌻🥞

"We're home!" a cheerful voice rang out from the front door, breaking the quiet of the early morning. Changbin's mom groaned as she woke, glancing at the clock that read 3:45 AM.

"Ugh, why do you guys always come home so late?" she muttered to herself, stretching her limbs before sitting up on the couch.

"Mum? Where are you?" Changbin called, his voice echoing through the house as he removed his shoes. The other boys followed suit, dropping their bags on counters and hooks, their energy unmistakably low.

"In here!" she called back, still shaking off the remnants of sleep as she tried to gather her thoughts.

"Hey, how was practice, you guys?" she asked, her voice warm and welcoming as they started to separate. Some headed for the fridge to grab leftover pasta, while others flopped onto the couch or hung up their coats, each greeting her with affectionate hugs.

"It was so tiring, like usual, but we managed to get everything done," Hyunjin groaned, yawning widely. "I'll see you in a few hours, Mama Bin." He kissed her forehead and made his way up the stairs, clearly ready to collapse into bed.

"Can I sleep with you tonight, Jinnie?" Felix called from the kitchen, his voice laced with a hint of exhaustion.

"Yeah, babygirl, just come in whenever you're ready," Hyunjin replied, quickly disappearing down the hallway.

"How was it? Did she behave?" Chan asked, settling onto the couch and taking a long sip from a water bottle.

"She was good. She slept most of the time but only woke up to eat," Changbin's mom explained. "She kept asking for you all. I made her the pasta like the meal plan said. I hope it's good."

"This is some good-ass pasta!" Seungmin exclaimed, his cheeks smeared with sauce as he devoured a bowl. "I'm not complaining!"

"I'm glad you like it. You lot should head to bed; I'm going to crash too," she said, grabbing a cozy blanket from the couch. With a warm wave, she made her way to the guest room.

"I'll go check on Y/N. I'll sleep with her tonight," Chan announced after a moment of contemplation, almost considering the couch due to how tired he was.

"Hyung, no!" Seungmin growled, his irritation flaring up. "You always sleep with me!" He pouted, his frustration evident as he wiped sauce from his face.

"Yeah, babe, but you can sleep with Changbin or Lee Know tonight. I don't want to leave her alone," Chan replied, trying to keep his tone calm despite the rising tension.

Seungmin's growl deepened, and Chan winced as he felt the hot wave of anger radiating from him through their bond. "Stop being petty," he hissed, fatigue creeping into his voice. "It's just one night."

Chan was honestly running on autopilot, exhaustion weighing heavily on him. "It's 3 AM; I'm going to bed," he grumbled, frustration bubbling to the surface. With that, he stormed off, leaving the remaining boys in the living room, still debating their own plans for the night.

As Chan climbed the stairs, he couldn't shake the lingering annoyance in the air. He understood Seungmin's feelings but also felt a protective urge toward Y/N that he couldn't ignore. Pushing the door open to Felix's room, he peeked inside to find Y/N peacefully sleeping in her nest.

She looked serene, and for a moment, all his frustrations melted away. "Just one night," he whispered to himself, closing the door softly as he slipped under the covers beside her, ready to ensure she felt safe and cared for.

🌱🍄🌻🥞

Day two:

It wasn't just one night. Chan had ended up crashing with Y/N on the second day of her sleeping coma, and of course, Seungmin wasn't happy about it again. But honestly, Chan was tired of his drama.

The day had already been stressful; they were running on just about three hours of sleep, and on top of that, they had twelve grueling hours of dance practice ahead. Every muscle in Chan's body ached, and his head was pounding like a drum. Seungmin had been giving him the cold shoulder all day, still sulking over the previous night's events. Chan was just done with the nonsense.

As he walked down the hallway toward Felix's room, he could feel the weight of Seungmin's frustration hanging in the air like a thick fog. "What's his problem?" Chan muttered under his breath, shaking his head in annoyance.

When he pushed open the door, the sight of Y/N sound asleep in her nest brought a wave of calm over him. She looked so peaceful, her soft breaths matching the gentle rise and fall of the blankets. Chan's heart swelled, reminding him of why he had wanted to sleep beside her in the first place. Here, everything felt right. The stress of the day began to dissolve as he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her closer.

"Just a little longer," he whispered, resting his head against hers. The warmth of her body soothed his frayed nerves, making the chaos of practice and the tension with Seungmin feel like distant memories.

But then, a knock on the door broke his moment of peace. Seungmin entered, his expression a mix of anger and hurt. "What are you doing, Chan?" he snapped, arms crossed tightly over his chest. "This again?"

Chan sighed, frustration creeping back in. "I’m just keeping her company, Seungmin. She needs it."

"You always say that! It’s like you don’t care how it makes me feel!" Seungmin shot back, his voice rising. "I’m starting to think you only want to sleep next to her to rub it in my face."

"That’s not true! I care about her just as much as i care for you!" Chan countered, the exhaustion in his voice palpable. "You need to stop being so dramatic about this."

Seungmin's expression darkened. "Dramatic? You think I’m being dramatic? Maybe you just don’t want to admit that you’re being selfish."

Chan clenched his jaw, feeling the heat of the argument rise. "Selfish? Really? I’m trying to be there for someone who’s hurting, and you’re making it all about you!"

"Maybe you should think about how I feel for once!" Seungmin shot back, frustration etched on his face. "I’m tired of feeling like I’m competing for your attention."

With that, Chan turned away, running a hand through his hair. "It’s not a competition, Seungmin. You can sleep with someone else tonight. I’m not leaving her alone."

Seungmin scoffed, his arms dropping to his sides in defeat. "Fine. Do what you want. Just don’t expect me to be okay with it."

With that, Seungmin stormed out, leaving Chan feeling drained. He couldn’t shake the lingering annoyance in the air. He understood Seungmin's feelings but felt a protective urge toward Y/N that he couldn’t ignore.

"Just one night," he whispered to himself, closing the door softly as he settled under the covers beside her.

He couldn’t help but hope she would wake up by morning, that they could share the moment of relief together. In this space, wrapped in her presence, Chan felt grounded and sane, as if all his worries could fade away, even if just for a few hours.

🌱🍄🌻🥞

Day three:

Chan jolted awake to the sound of his alpha howling in distress, his heart racing. "What the heck?" he murmured, groaning as he rubbed his eyes and held his head in his hands.

The voice echoed in his mind, Omega! Sweet omega. Please...

With a sigh, Chan looked over at Y/N, who was peacefully asleep beside him. "What time is it?" he huffed, reaching for his phone. That's when he caught a whiff of something heavenly—her scent. His breath hitched, and he couldn't help but smile. What the heck?

Curious, he leaned a little closer, inhaling deeply and enjoying the comforting aroma. "Her scent is back?" he wondered aloud, furrowing his brows. He quickly texted Minho and Changbin, asking them to come to the room.

Just as he was savoring the moment, Changbin burst through the door, followed closely by Leeknow, who bumped into him.

"Dude! Ow!" Leeknow groaned, rubbing his nose. But as soon as he caught a whiff of Y/N's scent, he froze. "Oh..."

Changbin's eyes widened. "Her scent is back?"

"Yeah! I woke up because my alpha was going wild, and then I realized it was her!" Chan grinned, feeling a mix of excitement and disbelief.

"Jesus, she smells amazing! I might just melt!" Changbin exclaimed, earning a hearty laugh from Chan.

"No way she smells that good!" Leeknow said, inching closer to the bed, a playful grin on his face.

Just then, Y/N stirred, blinking awake to see Leeknow leaning in with wide eyes. "What the...?" she groaned, and before he could react, he stumbled back, almost falling off the bed.

“Oh no, Y/N! I’m so sorry! I promise I’m not being weird!” Leeknow exclaimed, his cheeks flushing a bright pink as he regained his balance, wide eyes darting to Chan and then back to her.

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle at his flustered state. “You’re adorable, you know that?” she teased, stretching her arms overhead and letting out a loud yawn that echoed in the cozy room.

“Welcome back,” Chan said playfully, pulling her body close to his, the warmth of his presence wrapping around her like a soft blanket.

“Hey, Channie,” she mumbled, burying her face in his neck, inhaling his comforting scent. “How long was I out for?” She felt a mix of curiosity and embarrassment.

“About three days,” he replied softly, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, his touch igniting a spark of affection.

“Three days?” she gasped, her eyes widening in disbelief. “Oh no! I’m so behind on my omega duties, aren’t I?” Her brow furrowed, anxiety creeping in despite the relief that coursed through her. She felt great—no aches, no exhaustion—but guilt nagged at her.

“Cupcake?” Changbin’s voice chimed in as he climbed onto the bed, leaning in to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “You don’t have any ‘duties’. Plus, you don’t need to apologize. You look more healthier. You smell so sweet, happy and relaxed”

“i smell so...Sweet?” She furrowed her brows, searching her body before gasping. “My scent is back?” Excitement bubbled up within her as she sat up, touching her glands and releasing a wave of pheromones that filled the room with a delicate, inviting fragrance.

“Okay, okay! I know you’re excited, babe, but don’t choke us with it!” Leeknow coughed dramatically, waving a hand in front of his face as if to fan away the air.

Y/N giggled, lightly tapping his back. “I’m sorry! I just haven’t smelled like me in ages!”

“And you smell absolutely amazing,” Chan added, fingers playing gently with her hair, his touch soothing her frayed nerves.

“Thank you, Oppa,” she smiled, her heart swelling with warmth. Her gaze drifted around the room, taking in the piles of bags and clothes. “What have you guys been up to?”

“Practicing and practicing and practicing,” Changbin growled, rubbing his shoulder with a playful wince. “You know, the usual.”

“It’s been so boring without you,” Leeknow chimed in, crossing his arms dramatically. “At least we don’t have to go in until 3 PM today.” He laid back down on the bed and started to type on his phone before Chan started to speak.

“Speaking of which, Y/N,” Chan said softly, a hint of authority in his tone, “I need you to start unpacking your room and all these bags. This mess is driving me crazy.”

“Okay oppa,  Can you show me where my room is?” she asked, her voice brightening. “And do we have anything planned for the day?” She felt Chan begin to massage her shoulders, easing the last remnants of tension.

“Yeah, I’ll let Felix and Han help you out. And you’re coming with us to the studio later; Mama Bin is leaving today,” he replied, a soft smile on his lips.

Y/N’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she turned to Changbin. “I need to meet her and thank her for taking care of me. She was so nice.”

“She’s downstairs, cupcake. Go ahead whenever you’re ready,” Changbin encouraged, his grin infectious.

“Okay, I will,” she said, already feeling the anticipation bubbling within her as she hopped off the bed, eager to start her day.

🌱🍄🌻🥞

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[writingouthere]

neighbor!Sukuna x singlemom!reader

it gets less(?) wholesome and we finally have some smut even if it's just solo for now

cw: masturbation, panty stealing, Sukuna is a red flag

Sukuna was doing his laundry, because he was a responsible adult, and he enjoyed doing chores early in the morning after you and the kid had left but before he needed to go in to the shop. It was quiet, which was rare for his apartment now. Not that he minded, but it was easier to clean up when Bug wasn't trying to get him to pretend to be the evil sorcerer from her favorite cartoon.

You said she used to love the sensei character best but now she liked the villain because he had the same "tat-ews" as Sukuna.

God, she was such a cute kid.

Of course, he thought the two of you would have some pretty cute kids yourselves and he thought Bug would make a great older sister.

Whistling to himself, like the wholesome sitcom father he was becoming, he went to open up the dryer so he could move his stuff from the wash when something fell out. He didn't notice what it was at first, just noting that it seemed like you had left a load in the dryer and he planned on showing how helpful he could be by grabbing it for you. He went to grab the extra bin when he saw what had fallen on his shoulder.

It was a blue pair of panties.

Now there was nothing particularly sexy about the panties themselves. They were very practical, as expected of someone as responsible as you. This didn't stop him from picking them up and bringing them to his nose for a deep inhale.

Logically, he knew that they had just been washed and all he would be getting a whiff of was the lavender dryer sheets he kept stocked. Still, he didn't know if it was just his imagination but he swore that he was still able to get a scent of sweet cunt even from the clean panties.

He felt himself start to get hard and he didn't resist the temptation to palm his cock through his sweatpants, as his other hand held your panties to his face. Before he ended up making a mess and cleaning cum out of every crevice of his washing closet, he took your newly acquired panties and went back to his room.

He couldn't wait for this to be your room instead of just his room. For him to smell your shampoo on the extra pillow on his bed and for your clothes to take up half his closet. He had already gone out and bought another set of drawers after you moved in, you hadn't said anything and he was glad because it would have been awkward to explain they were for you when you still were under the impression you were temporarily crashing with a friend. An impression he looked forward to completely shattering at the soonest opportunity.

He thought back to some of the ways it could happen as he slid his sweatpants down just enough to let out his hard cock and balls.

He remembered the other day when you had leaned down to kiss his cheek to thank him for picking up your daughter from daycare. He thought about what might have happened if you had decided you needed to show him how grateful you really were.

You would have tucked the kid in, you were a good mother like that, before shutting the door to what would now be Bug's room while you both made your way down the hall to your room. He didn't think he could have resisted pressing you up against the wall once he had you alone, even knowing your room was a few feet away. He would have had to show you that that kiss on the cheek wasn't enough. He imagined grabbing your hips, the hips that proved you had carried a child and showed how good you would be at having his.

He would have pushed you against the wall, hard enough to knock the breath from you but not so loud as to wake up the kid, he could be quiet. He wondered if you could.

Sukuna's breath had turned to panting as he slid your panties up and down his cock. Beads of precum dripping onto the material until it was almost damp. He brought his other hand down to play with his balls as he kept imagining what he would do to you.

He would have kissed you, fuck he wanted to kiss you. To finally taste you and know that he could do it anytime he wanted. He would have picked you up, shown you that you could never be too heavy for him and wrapped those thighs he had been dreaming about around his waist. He could imagine moving his lips down your cheek, to your neck, to the hint of cleavage he could imagine showing now that your shirt was slipping down your shoulders. He'd stick to kisses and light nips with teeth, not wanting to leave a mark where anyone else could see them. Let everyone else see you for the respectable, working mom you were, he wanted to be the only one to see you marked up and fucked out.

At this point, Sukuna slowed down his strokes before he came too fast. Wanting this to last, wishing you were here to take care of him instead.

Because you would insist through the pants and whimpers he just knew he could pull from you, that the two of you needed to move this to the bedroom. To his bedroom. He would correct you, it was your bedroom now and you would blush as he carried you and set you down on the bed. Sukuna didn't know if he would have the patience to hold back the first time, but he figured he could always make it up to you by eating you out until you were screaming some other time. He knew he wouldn't be able to handle your mouth on his dick until after he'd already come in you.

He would still treat you right, making sure to stretch you out because his cock was just so fucking big and you were so small. He would make sure he got at least three fingers in you before he even tried to get his cock in you.

He just knew you would be begging for him by then and he'd have no choice but to put his hand over your mouth, no to cover your mouth with his, after all you couldn't wake the baby, just to keep you quiet. And then-and then-

Sukuna groaned as he came, his spend soaking your panties until he was sure they were ruined. He sat there, panting until he caught his breath.

When he could feel his legs again, he looked down at your panties. Fuck, he really had done a number on them. Part of him was tempted to keep them as a souvenir, but he hadn't made it this far to scare you away now and even little details counted.

When he came home that night to a freshly cooked meal and a chattering Bug, holding up her arms to be picked up, you made sure to thank him for putting your laundry basket in your room. You had just been so rushed in the morning, you had forgotten to take it out and he was just the best, most helpful roommate you could ask for.

He nodded as he pressed a kiss to your daughter's forehead.

Roommate, right.

[ghosty-writes-23]

The Ghost Of You. - Leon S Kennedy.

!TAGS!: NSFW Content, Mental Health, Depression, Porn With Plot, Desperation, Longing, Guilt, Soft!Leon, Slight Hesitation, Eating out, Consensual Sex, P in V, !Wrap It Before You Tap It!, I'm Not Coming Home Pt. 2.

Pairing: RE4R!Leon + Ex!Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature.

Summary: After 6 long painful years of grief, pain and suffering you came face to face with the impossible, Leon was alive and somewhat okay, you were overwhelmed with emotions ranging from anger and betrayal to happiness and desire to see that your Leon was alive, and that was how you two ended up in a hotel room stripping off each other’s drenched clothing, as the old spark between you two was reignited as if it never left even after all these years.

Word Count: 4.2k

Ghosty's Notes: Hello my lovelies, I’m so sorry this took me so long to write and an even bigger sorry to the person that requested for this and waited so long, I had been kind of in a writer’s block space and going through some personal stuff but I am slowly getting back into writing, I even listening to some music while writing this and couldn’t help but thing the rhythm to Flesh by Simon Curtis was the perfect rhythm to describe Leon’s thrust rhythm in this story, I’ll link the song below if anybody wants to check it out. Thank you so much for reading and there is more to come in the future.

(If a text is leaning like This, it means it’s a flashback.)

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Thank you for all the support, it means alot❤️

-Ghosty❤️

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September 30th, 1998, the worst day of your life you lost your Leon….

You world changed since that day your shared bedroom still smelt like his cologne you brought him every year that he always forgot to put the cap back on after using it, his hoodie still hanging on the end of the bed post as if he will be back to collect it or put it away after you scold him for not putting his dirty clothes in the laundry bin beside the door.

“Leon put your clothes in the laundry basket.” You playfully scold him as were leaning against the door frame of your shared bedroom. “I will just..” he says before he tosses his hoodie at the basket but it caught on the end bedpost causing a soft laugh to leave your lips. “good thing you’re a cop and not a basketball player.” You playfully tease him before he pulled you onto him causing you to squeal softly as you landed on top of him. “you wound me Y/n.” Leon says with a playful pout, but you just smiled at him before you kissed him.

As the memory flashed in your eyes a sad smile came onto your face as tears welled up in your eyes, grabbing the hoodie you were going to put it in the basket but you brought the hoodie up to your nose and inhaled, as the familiar scent of his cologne, fabric softer that Leon claimed made his clothes smell like warm summer day and something that was uniquely Leon tears started to run down your face and soaking into the fabric.

The dam broke as sob left your lips as your grip on the hoodie tightened, it wasn’t a neat or quiet cry it was the kind that felt as if your ribs had caved in your chest, that made your throat tighten and breaths come out in choked gasps.

“I can’t do this without you Leon.” You gasped through your sobs as your voice broke and squeaked. “We had plans, you where going to propose, you promised me forever not this.” You cried as you tried to control your breathing knowing if you didn’t calm down soon you would have a panic attack.

Curling in on yourself you pulled your knees to your chest as you clung to Leon’s old hoodie, the ache inside you body was dense and heavy the grief didn’t scream in your head, but it dragged in your mind with each passing moment, you hate the sun for rising, the air continuing to move around you and world expect going as if nothing had happen while you had just lost your world.

Soon There was soft footsteps padding into your bedroom, you didn’t have the energy in your body to even look up but when you smelt a familiar sweet and floral perfume you knew it was your mother, she must of rushed over this morning.

“Oh, baby mom’s here.”

Your mother cooed before she wrapped her arms around you from behind but firm as if she was holding the broken pieces of you together, you collapsed into her embrace as another fresh wave of sobs broke past your lips. Your mother didn’t say anything which you were grateful for as she started to gently stroke your hair, as she rocked back and forth slightly like she did when you came to her as a child after having a nightmare, but sadly this nightmare was real and your mother couldn’t make this one go away or protect you from it.

“He was a good kid Leon was, selfless and warm.” Your mother whispered softly as she placed a gently kiss on your forehead as she was still gently rocking you. “He was a part of this family, and he always will be.” Your mother spoke as shakey breaths left your lips as you breathing was slowly coming down.

“It hurts mom.” You whispered softly, your voice was rough and dry from all the crying. “I know darling it’s going to hurt for a while but promise your father and I will always be there to help you with whatever you need.” You mom reassured you which made you feel a little better but not a whole lot. “We weren’t meant to grow old together, have kids and get married.”

“I know sweetheart, I know.” Your mom’s voice cracked as she tightened her grip on you and her fingers never left your hair. You both stayed like this for hours curled up on your bed with the curtains drawn, even though the would outside the room didn’t stop with cars driving down the road, children laughing and playing outside and birds chirping, but in the bedroom time did still for a moment, the pain in your chest was there but with your mothers affection it was slowly dulling.

Years Later.

It was the kind of made the world warm even though it was cold outside, golden, yellow and red hue coloured leaves decorating the roads, pavements and streets. The scent of cinnamon and pumpkin spice lattes where a stable scent in café’s at this time of year.

Autumn was always Leon’s favourite season, he loved jumping into piles of leaf’s which would then cause you to have to pluck them out of his hair as if he was a messy puppy with his big and bright blue eyes looking up at you with warmth and affection that would always melt your heart.

You hadn’t been back to town since Leon’s funeral it was a very small service but you were grateful people came out, you got to meet some of his friends from the police academy and some friends you shared in your friend group. You moved out of town not long after you needed to get away from everything a fresh start but you always held Leon in your heart, his ring sat against your chest on a chain you never took it off and haven’t dated anybody new since their was only one man for you.

The reason you were back in town is because your sister was getting married, but there was dull ache in your chest as you walked down the familiar streets, she would have changed the wedding venue but you knew how much she wanted to get married at the church here because of the beautiful views and it was a beautiful church itself and you didn’t want your sister to miss out.

Currently you where sat in a small café, it was an old one you and Leon used to visit when he would drop you off for your morning classes, when you were still half asleep because you missed your alarms and rushed to get everything ready in time without being late. A warm cup of coffee was between your hands but it was mostly untouched.

It was a caramel latte with extra caramel Leon always had a massive sweet tooth which would cause a lot of trips to the dentist for tooth aches, but yet he never lessen his sugar intake claiming “I’m a big boy and don’t need adult supervision.” Yet whine when his teeth where aching because he ate to much sour straps.

The world move outside, slow and quiet with leaves tumbling from the trees like burnt paper falling to the ground, then being crushed by either somebody stepping on them or by a car tire, but as your eyes watched life past by a set of eyes caught your attention, they belonged to a man across the road he was wearing a long black coat and a grey scarf.

His legs where crossed as he sat outside reading the paper he looked exhausted with bags under his eyes and his skin was a little gaunt as if he wasn’t taking care of himself or overworking himself, his dark blonde hair fell in front of his eyes caused by a soft breeze which made your heart clench slightly as if it knew this man.

But when he titled his head up as a waitress came over to him you felt all the air escape your lungs. “No it can’t you.” You choked out softly as your fingers started to tremble around your glass, your heart tightening in your chest slowly you stood up and made your way outside your coffee forgotten about as you walked over to the man.

There was no way after all this time your mind was playing tricks on you. Crossing the road you where only a couple steps away from him, you heard him curse about the cold weather before you took a deep breath, deep down you kind of hoped it was your mind playing tricks on you and this wasn’t the man that had been haunting your dream for years, that slipped through your fingers.

Before you could get any words out he looked at you and his eyes widened slightly as if he never expected to see you here, he coughed slightly before he stood up you froze on the spot before he came towards you his steps purposeful before his body crashed against yourself and his arms wrapped around you tightly in a bone crushing hug.

“L-Leon.” You choked out as you where trying your hardness to not cry again, but it was so hard when this man felt like your Leon. “I’m so sorry sweetheart.” The man spoke before he pulled away slightly and when you looked up at his face and you knew in that moment this man was your Leon, you broke down into a loud sob as you clung to him tightly your hands digging into the fabric of his coat but you could feel him holding your body close to his.

“Your alive.” You say against his chest as he rubbed your back with his hand as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear to try and calm you down. “I know explain to do and I want to tell you, but I just can’t not yet.” Leon says but you silenced him by kissing him hard, there was nothing gentle about the kiss it was raw, rough nearly borderline painful as if years of grief and pain mixed with desperation and desire for one and another. You devoured Leon as if his kisses where oxygen and not in the middle of the street but lucky it was mostly empty today because of the weather.

You felt Leon’s hand trail down to your jawline as if he was holding you with the outmost care and tenderness as you were sure both of your lips would be bruised and puffy when you pulled away from the kiss. You moaned into the kiss and tightened your grip on his coat, scared that if you let go he will disappear or that this was a dream that you never wanted to wake up from. Your tears started to mix into the kiss before you felt Leon wipe them away with his thumb before breaking the kiss leaving you both panting.

“You’re an asshole.” You whispered softly before Leon just nodded his head as he rested his forehead against yours. “I know I had no choice.” He spoke as he was still gently rubbing your cheek softly. “I suffered because of you, cried for you.” You say to him, and he nodded a pained look on his face. “I know and I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you Y/n cross my heart I will, if you will let me.” Leon says as he pulls you into an alley, his back was against the brick wall as he pulled you against him.

Then his lips found yours again, expect this time the kiss was different it was more slow, gentle as he cradled your head as his hands went into your head, you melted into the kiss instantly your eyes fluttered closed and you let him take the lead of the kiss as your mind was a whirlwind of emotions. His other had was mapping out your body as if he never forgot what made you trick and shudder. When you felt his cold hand on the bare skin of your back you gasped softly and arched your back slightly.

“I missed that sound.” Leon groaned softly against your lips before his lips trailed down your neck placing soft and gentle kisses. “I dreamt of touching you again, hearing your whimpers and moans.” Leon mumbled softly against your neck causing a soft whimper to leave your lips. “Leon…” you breathed out his name as you gently tugged on his hair so he would look at you, he looked at you with slightly puffy and bruised lips, his pupils where blow wide but they still held that warm and affectionate look that made your heart melt every time.

“if you disappear again or make me thing you’re dead, I will hunt you down and kill you myself.” You softly threaten him, and this caused him to chuckle softly as he rested his head on the top of your chin. “yes ma’am.” He said with a laugh, but you knew that he knew you weren’t joking not after this time, but for the first time in 6 years your heart finally felt a little lighter and your mind was finally slient and not filled with guilt and grief, you felt like you could actually breath.

A Little Later.

By the time you and Leon stumbled into the GlassLane hotel foyer you were both drenched, Leon’s coat you were wearing was now sticking to your body like a second skin and your hair sticking to your face, Leon’s t-shirt was almost shrink wrapped over his body letting you see every detail from his well built physic to some new scars you could see on his body causing you to frown slightly. The woman at the front desk just gave you a friendly smile as she handed over the key after Leon paid before you could protest.

Room 208….

You two didn’t even make it to the elevator to go to the second floor before your hands where on each other again, lips clashing together and if you where devouring each other as the elevator door opened, Leon gently pressed you in and pushed you up against the wall as he pressed the button for the second floor without breaking the kiss.

As you both stumbled into the hotel room your breaths where ragged as you both where pulling at each other’s clothing, as the door finally closed behind you Leon gently pressed you against it using his body, your arms instantly wrapped around his neck as he gently tugged off his coat you were wearing, then started to unbutton the top you were wearing, his movements were a little clumsy before he got a little frustrated before he grabbed the sides of the shirt and ripped as if it was paper, buttons flying on the ground as you gasped softly.

“Leon.” You scold him but he shushed you by kissing you and gently rolled his tongue into your mouth causing a soft noise to leave your lips as your cheeks coloured. Your own hands tugged off his shirt and threw it somewhere in the room, a shiver ran down your body when you felt the cold breeze on your wet skin.

When you felt Leon’s lips on your neck his hand’s gently tapped the back of your thighs, you instantly wrapped your legs around his hips as he lifted you up with ease then he walked over to the bed.

You fell with a soft thud before you looked up at Leon breathing heavily, his cheeks were coloured slightly pink as his breath came out in soft pants, you wanted to cover up it had been so long since Leon saw you naked and somethings didn’t look as ‘youthful’ as they used too, but when Leon kneeled down you went up on your elbows to watch him.

He look your right leg and started to place gentle kisses on the wet fabric but it sent small little shocks up your body, each kiss was soft and slow as he trailed them higher and once he reached your hips, he did the same with the left leg. You had to bit your lip to keep a moan from leaving your lips, as you felt Leon’s kisses trailing up your hips to your stomach.

“Can I take these off.” Leon asked as you felt his hand’s on your pants, you nodded your head giving him your consent, your body was almost buzzing at the feeling of his hands on your body. Carefully he unbuckled your belt and then popped the button to your pants then slowly slid them down leaving you in your panties and bra, as well as the ripped sheds of your shirt.

“God your still so beautiful.” Leon groaned softly as he looked at you, the look in his eyes made you blush even more, you weren’t as skinny as you used to be but lately you had been starting to go back to the gym since your therapist thought some physical activity would be great for your mental health. “Leon.” You were about to protest but he shook his head as he placed a soft kiss on your stomach, his hand’s either side of your hips almost holding you in place.

“I love you just the way you are, we are human we aren’t going to look like we did when we were younger, but seeing you like this makes me want you even more.” Leon says as he placed open mouth kisses and soft little nips. Your fingers went into his dirty blonde hair and softly tugged causing him to groan softly as he leant into your touch with a soft rumble, while your other hand trailed down his back feeling the new scars and bumps as you tried to memorize it, you hand followed the muscle shape and lines, your touch gentle.

Soon you felt Leon’s tongue gently glide over your clothed folds causing a muffled moan to leave your lips as your nails dug into his back causing him to groan at the painful sensation. “Leon..” his name left your lips as your body tensed up, but Leon just smiled and gently laced his fingers with yours and softly squeezed.

“It’s okay sweetheart, I got you.” He whispers before he uses his other hand to gently pull your panties to the side revealing your slick folds, you felt embarrassed because of how you wet you were, but it had been so long since somebody touch you.

Leon placed a soft kiss on your clit causing you to arch you back a little, your grip on his hair instantly tightening, but Leon welcomed the pain before he ran the flat of his tongue up your folds, your thighs tensed up around his head. His tongue gently circled your clit before he teasingly lap at your entrance. When he would tease soft whimpers would leave your lips and when he gave in soft moans would leave your lips.

When you felt the familiar knot forming in your stomach you gently tugged on his hair, causing Leon to pull away his face was covered in your slick, his pupils were blown wide and he almost had a love drunk look on his face as there was a soft blush on his cheeks, how could somebody look so dirty yet so innocent at the same time.

“Why did you stop me baby.” Leon asked in an almost breathless whine, his breathing was heavy as he looked up at you not even bothering to wipe his face. “want to touch you too.” You managed to say before a small almost goofy look came onto his face. “as much as I want that, it’s been 6 years since I last tasted you.” Leon purred as he placed a soft lazy kiss on your pubic bone, you pouted slightly before soft moans left your lips as Leon leaned his head back down and as he slid his tongue back inside your entrance he gently squeezed your hand.

“Leoooon.” You whined softly but he just chuckled against your folds and just pulled you closer by your thighs to a point you were almost suffocating him. But when you would try and pull away he would just pull you closer to him. It wasn’t long before your back was arching off the bed as Leon’s name fell from your lips as you came on his tongue, to which he greedy lapped it up, when he finally pulled away he trailed kisses up your body, then captured your lips in a soft kiss.

You could taste yourself as his tongue rolled against yours, causing you to blush even more. When you finally broke the kiss Leon rested his forehead against yours. “We can stop of you want; we don’t have to..” Leon trailed off but you silenced him by pressing a soft kiss to his lips then leaned over to the bedside table and grabbed out a condom. Leon just smiled at you and kissed your forehead before he took the packet from you as you undid his belt and took his pants off, stripping him with the same carefulness he had done with you.

Once he was bare you took the condom packet from him and rolled it onto his cock, which you couldn’t help but think was bigger since the last time you saw it. “Your staring.” Leon says with a teasing tone to which you just playfully rolled your eyes before you laid on your stomach on the bed, not before Leon placed a pillow under your hips to make you more comfortable. There was a little bit of shuffling behind you before you felt Leon pressing his hips to the back of your ass.

“You Ready.” Leon asked you looking back over your shoulder you nodded your head as you bit your bottom lip as you felt the tip of his cock tease your entrance before he slowly started to push inside, inch by inch. His hand gripped the pillow by your head, and you could see the muscle and veins bulging as his fingers gripped into the soft material.

“Fuck Y/n.” Leon hissed, the sound of his voice caused you to clench around him, as he finally bottomed out inside of you, your gummy walls were fluttering around him and trying to pull him deeper. “Please move.” You whined softly you needed some kind of friction. Leon let out a ragged breath before he started to move his hips in a lazy roll at first, pulling soft moans and mews from you as you pushed your hips back against him, the pillow causing Leon to hit a certain angle when he fully bottomed out.

You where gripping the pillow under your head as you could feel your eyes rolling in the back of your head, you had forgotten how pleasurable sex was, you had tried once a couple of years after Leon’s ‘death’ but it just didn’t feel the same it didn’t feel this good.

“Faster Leon please.” You softly begged him, you let out a little squeal when he gripped your hips but that soon died down as Leon picked the pace and your moans and his grunts filled the room, you could almost see stars in your eyes as you felt your orgasm approaching as Leon was constantly hitting your sweetspot, as you started to tighten and clench around him. You turned your head and captured Leon’s lips in a kiss swallowing his grunts and groans as he pounded into you could feel him twitch with every thrust, he was close.

Gently nibbling on his bottom lip Leon groaned as he moved his hips faster and soon the knot in your stomach snapped as you came around him with a muffled cry, your body trembled as your back arched against him, he soon followed as he spilled into the condom with a muffled grunt against your lips. After a couple moments and the trembling subsided in your body Leon slowly pulled out and placed a kiss on your shoulder before he went to deal with the condom.

Watching him you finally got a good look at him, he definitely looked older but not a youthful older but a tired and worn out older, there was a new scar on his cheek that didn’t look older then a couple of days, but his body was littered with new scars and even some bruises that you only saw now but as you where going to say something Leon smiled and shook his head.

“We can talk about it later, but for now we are going to enjoy this moment okay.” Leon says as he slides back into bed and pulls you against his chest. “Okay but don’t think I am letting this go.” You says causing him to chuckle softly but his grip on you tightened ever so slightly. “I know sweetheart.” He says as he kissed your forehead.

And for the first time in years, you both felt at peace in each other’s arms, you were finally home and it was going to take a while to figure everything out but you would finally be okay, you both would be….

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©Ghosty-writes-23, 2025. all rights reserved. !I DO NOT! consent to translations or replications or reproduction of my work on any other social media platforms and or make AI Bots without my explict consent and permission.