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delicrieux · 2 months ago

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…TAKING WHAT’S NOT YOURS ! ⋆｡°✩

⋆⭒˚.⋆ chapter summary. the fireworks festival.

pairing. gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader warnings for this chapter. swearing, character death (off screen, dw) wc. 6.3k author’s note. gege deserves to be charged for war crimes for what he's done, but besides that, thank u for reading once again. i really loved writing this story and agonizing about what it would be like to be with our dear satoru. he is, without doubt, a character that deserved so much better. but anyway, thank you again!!!! c u at the end of this xx

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CHAPTER 14: you know where to find me & i know where to look

you will not lie and tell yourself that being away from gojo isn’t strange and off-putting, even if you would like to. it’s different when either of you are on a mission, because, theoretically, now you know he’s just on the other side of the wall and you have chosen to not curl up beside him. you have slept alone for a long time, and it had never been an issue until now – there’s no one to be too warm against, no one to hog the sheets, no one to chew on your hair dreaming of something sweet.

the stockholm syndrome really got you, huh?

still, you sleep well. there’s enough space and you awake refreshed, with no limbs tingly or numb, but a bit lonely. the room is too big, and even if the view behind the curtain is nice enough to snap a picture, it’s not as charming without gojo pointing and saying, “heh, look, a bit more rain and it’s gonna be a landslide,” and you, naturally, nodding along, because he must be right.

you dress and douse yourself in a heavy, heavy cloud of the perfume he got you. gojo insisted on this one because he liked the way it smelled, and you are feeling better today and are willing to hear out another heartfelt apology. you are very nice and very merciful and deserve the very best for your endless efforts to steer this relationship into something at least vaguely harmonious.

maybe you can reconcile during a tasty breakfast with a cappuccino syruped with caramel and the foam resembling a cat. yes, you have put the pieces together – normally, you wouldn’t consider yourself a great strategist, but surprisingly, last night you had ran this situation through your head over and over and over again till every possible scenario and an equally possible outcome was engraved into the squiggly lines of your brain. you have never been more prepared for anything in your entirely life.

“i’ve learned my lesson,” are the very first words you hear when you open the door, met with a head hung low and an unhappy gojo satoru.

alright, this you did not anticipate. he looks a bit miserable. gojo always hated the silent treatment or the ignore policy the most, even when he was harassing you for his personal entertainment, but you didn’t think eight hours apart would make him like this. suppose he might not have slept at all; suppose you did leave on a sour note, a small good night and a strained smile he tried to mimic but failed, waiting till you shut the door before heading to his room.

you wonder how long he’s been antsy behind your door, waiting like a lost pet. you decide to assume he just got here instead of thinking of the more likely scenario that he sensed your cursed energy spike once you rolled out of bed and was at attention ever since.

“that’s nice,” you tell him. a soft kiss to his cheek seals the deal for both of you, and an ache you didn’t realize you were suffering from lifts seeing him instantly brighten.

“you smell nice,” he leans in, happily nosing the side of your neck, “and look nice. super nice. hello.”

“hi, good morning.”

“yes,” a toothy smile, and your fingers twining with his, “great, even, actually. didja miss me?”

you will not lie to yourself, but you will lie to him. you shake your head, as though disappointed by such an unfair and silly line of questioning, “it’s barely been a night. i was relieved, if anything.”

he wrinkles his nose, a look that borders on not so playful if taking in the arctic gleam of his eyes, “not funny,” the comedy will have to wait, it seems, he’s serious, “no jokes about that. or separation. ever. you and i are conjoined twins from now on. we could be permanently glues together by my infinity. now that’s an idea.”

a bit too frankensteinian for you, so you have to pass, “let’s leave the morally questionable experiments to shoko, please.”

“if you insist,”

well, now that the apology is out of the way and the awkwardness is cleared, you are prepared for a feast that he will pay for, “let’s go down to eat?”

if it weren’t for the slight downward twitch of the corners of his lips, you might’ve been fooled that all is fine and dandy. apparently, it is not. hesitation, from him, only comes when he’s preparing for something major and likely emotionally taxing. this, on an empty stomach, will not do, but drawing it out isn’t an option, either.

he squeezes your hand before you can come up with an excuse to avoid breakfast or this conversation, as this isn’t going at all like you have pedantically strung together. another squeeze, and you decide to never plan anything ever again, “…can we order room service instead?” he inquires, and you relax a little, glad you won’t have to have this conversation mid-hallway where any other guest could sneak up, “i, uh,” he won’t meet your eyes, “i’d like to talk a bit. first. if that’s okay?”

your insides are twisting into knots – not from the present anxiety but from the honesty in his quiet voice.

“sure,” you settle.

he nods and takes the lead, hand a little sweaty, face a little flustered – all very out of character, but very sweet. you let him drag you the whole of the next door down and you’re graciously let into the spotless, untouched space he had spent the night in. the curtains are open, the bed is pristine, and gojo is never this clean so it can only mean he hasn’t used it. you glance at him with a wordless question but he’s still avoiding your gaze.

has he really agonized over this the whole night? you have, too, a bit, but seemingly not nearly enough. maybe it’s his first time having a fight with someone; maybe it’s his first time being in the wrong and knowing that he is and actually doing something about it. too many maybes. you think he might be just as confused as you.

once the door is shut, he breathes out. perks up, finally, once you’re safely secured in his perimeter. he gestures toward the expanse of the bed, face morphing back into a rather placid expression that betrays nothing but an odd edge that doesn’t manage to leave his eyes entirely.

“after you,” he announces chivalrously. no ulterior motives there.

“uh-huh,” you sound, toeing the slippers off and climbing in. you scoot back till you’re pressed against the pillows, leaving ample space for him to join. he chooses a spot by your thigh, warmth pickling against your skin, and you really do forgive him, you decide, and you would probably forgive him again even he pulled the same stunt at this very moment. no, that is terrible, how has this idiot managed to ensnare you so completely?

once he’s fidgeted enough, he moves onto his next agenda, “the menu,” he pulls out a booklet from the drawer, placing it on your bent knees like a little gift. this all feels vaguely rehearsed, “pick what you want.”

that was always the intention, but you see that he’s trying very hard to work up the courage to something he wants to say, so maybe some good old fashioned enthusiasm from you will help him relax, “alright,” a hum for added measure, “hmmm…. mhmmm…. ooh, pancakes sound nice. like, maybe a mountain of them.”

“yeah?” his chin finds its usual spot on your shoulder, “pick between the triple and a tower.”

the picture showing off the pancake tower does look very impressive, not to mention delicious. however, you aren’t entirely certain you would finish one, as the heading reads over one meter!, which is simply ridiculous. thankfully, you have a man with a black hole for a stomach right next to you, “i’d like a tower.”

“sure, whatever you want.”

“and a cappuccino,” you’re not skimming out on that, even if it’s unlikely the barista will make you cat-shaped foam. maybe you can press gojo to bully them into doing it, but pressing gojo into anything at this moment would likely lead to another disaster, “with a double shot. possibly triple. how many shots do they do?”

“think one’s plenty enough,” his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. they appear bit chapped, but nothing you can’t fix, “…can i get a kiss?”

…so much for wanting to talk. this is already familiar. he’s trying to change the subject.

“for good behavior?” you venture coyly, peeling your gaze away from the breakfast details to gauge his expression.

it makes him smile, small and wicked, “yup. best behavior, actually. i said sorry, it counts. right? say yes.”

“mmm,” you manage, thinking up another scheme. you would like to keep this on track. it’s likely he won’t dare to say it again and the implication of it will hang between the two of you until another fight, and another, and it’ll keep stacking up and up and likely higher than the famed pancake tower. his pupils grow larger the longer he waits for your permission. a small sigh, and your nails scratch at the nape, “maybe let’s eat first?”

his gaze flickers for a second, and then he gives you a kind, patient smile, “alright,” because he meant it when he said whatever you want.

“so nice of you,” you praise. his grin shifts. you recognize i – it’s the one he dons when he’s winning.

a quick call to reception, gojo’s back to holding your hand again, softly as not to crowd you. his fingers really are much longer than yours, and he measures them idly, more than used to the sight but still somehow mesmerized by it.

“i don’t like fighting with you,” he starts, voice even, though low, “the rest i don’t really care about, but you,” he tugs on your finger, “you just, doesn’t…” he trails off, confidence shaken by something invisible.

“i don’t like fighting with you either,” you share, hoping it will ease him. it seems to work, but only a little, “it sucks.”

“yeah,” he huffs, “super major sucks,” he draws closer and the mattress shifts. he finds home beside you, head once again nestled into your shoulder, like it’s the safest place on planet earth.

gojo always seeks refuge in physical affection. it’s a way he can express himself without using words. suppose you can pull him into your embrace and calm him like that; suppose he’ll feel a bit braver without your eyes so deeply focused on him, even if there’s always a chance he’ll take the easy way out and refuse to speak at all.

but that’s not what happens, “i just wanted to find a spot where we could watch the stars together.”

“oh,” you utter, unsure what to make of this yet. you are glad he has finally told you, but that still doesn’t explain why he was acting, dare you say, nervous before the argument. there has to be more. there always is, but you will never pry, because it’s painful enough for him already.

“didn’t work out the way i had hoped it would, though,” and now he sounds genuinely sad. a horrible feeling surfaces in you, “but we can still watch them tonight. if you want.”

“i do,” you assure him, “but you have to talk about what’s bothering you. i can’t read your mind.”

“thank god you can’t,” a hollow chuckle follows, “it’s a secret anyway. none of your beeswax.”

impossible, like always, but you wouldn’t really have it any other way. you card your fingers through his hair and he relaxes further, warm breath tickling the side of your neck. a small sigh, this time from him. now that he’s said all that he has wanted to say – which still doesn’t really explain anything, but is more than enough – he can pretend to be an overgrown cat and bask in your affectionate gestures.

it’s going to be okay. you hope he doesn’t see your little smile. lucky.

“is this supposed to be a white tiger?” you inquire, holding up a glass phone charm for his inspection. another pale, blue-eyed thing that has caught your fancy. soon, your dorm room will also include a private zoo of all the cute plushies and ornaments you’ve managed to collect with gojo’s money.

“doesn’t have any stripes,” he hums, twisting and turning the vaguely animal-shaped object in his palm. dusk falls on his shoulders, tinting the edges of his hair a soft lilac, “maybe a polar bear?”

suppose it doesn’t really matter, since all charms displayed at this stall look the same, and it surely has nothing to do with the talent of the man that made them. he gazes over them proudly, each sat in a small leather box with a lavish seat, ready to be taken home and hung by the mirror or looped around a cellphone. the monkey ones could maybe resemble monkeys if you squinted and took a lot of creative liberties, and the rest are just shapes with four legs and a snout. oddly cute, in an incompetent, unexplainable way.

“you wanna…?” gojo raises a brow, shades blocking the double-check he no doubt sends you. you nod vigorously.

he has learned his lesson from last time and carries a concerning amount of cash in his wallet. your tiger-bear is placed in its box and then wrapped in a little bow before being hidden in a colorful plastic bag that eventually makes its way to you. you bow in thank you.

the matsuri continues. the winding streets are blocked from traffic yet crowd with too many patrons; gojo pinches your sleeve and tugs when a particularly large wave of people try to separate you. even when they manage, and you’re momentarily disoriented from the sounds and smells and sights, he always manages to spot you first. maybe he just knows where to look.

gojo has changed from his usual garbs into a baby blue yukata. blue really is his color, and he looks so infuriatingly handsome that you have to glare at a sizable amount of people to let them know he is not available to be admired now, or ever, really. you have contemplated buying him a kabuki mask, but even then, his height and broad shoulders – not to mention that unshakable gait and all-over enticing confidence! – would somehow reveal him, and people would still stare or try to grab his attention. perhaps the mystery of the mask would be even more alluring. your hairs stand on end at the thought.

“m?” gojo, never one to miss anything and still latched onto your sleeve, tilts his head, “are you hungry? i sensed murderous intent.”

you hide your lips behind your fan – an expensive trinket gojo insisted to get you since it would match your baby pink yukata. yes, you have come in matching bubble gum ice cream flavors. when your head moves even slightly, the hairpins clink. the sound is light and satisfying, or so he said. you can’t hear it over the noise.

“no, not really,” you say, though the dango stand does look delicious, and the twinkling lights are inviting. your displeased eyes do not leave the group of high school girls donning their flowery yukata and giggling into their kakigori bowls. it is truly a blessing you have been born with a useless amount of cursed energy, because you would definitely use it for evil.

maybe gojo knows, and he graciously steps forward, blocking your sight from the rest of the people. another tug, and you snap into motion.

around you, lanterns sway, alight and warm; they cast low over the sidewalks and shine bright against the cobblestone walkways. in the corners of your vision, the glow swirls into endless rainbow-colored ribbons.

“how good are you at shooting?” he asks.

all dolled up and pretty, you can only clap your lashes few times at the absurd question, “really well, why?”

“like, a bow or a gun?”

“does it matter? both require concentration and precision,” you explain, “still, are we planning a heist or something? i don’t have any cursed tools on me,” and while the prospect of danger and adventure is enticing, you really are having fun just being here with him and would rather stay.

“nah, just a bit of friendly competition,” he grins, glasses drooping just enough to catch the mischievous twinkle in his eye, “wanna go against the strongest? you’ll be the only one to that lived to tell the tale.”

wanna do this, wanna do that? want food, a plushie, something absurdly expensive? if you asked for the moon, you wonder if he’d try to retrieve it. perhaps calculate if a missing edge wouldn’t spin the planet out of orbit and bring it back to you as a souvenir.

“i’d like a soda,” you say.

“let’s get you a cola,” he switches directions so quickly you almost collide into an equally mushy couple enjoying their date.

only you and gojo are not a couple, and this is not a date, and each time he recalls an insignificant detail about you and goes out of his way to do something small for you only because he wants to do it, it becomes harder and harder to remember the fact. pretending is awful, and it burns strangely acidic in the back of your throat. but it’s so warm, too, and you want to cling to his arm and press your cheek against his yukata. hide there, in his sleeve, like he always does in the crook of your neck.

gojo wouldn’t mind. once he gets you your tasty drink, you paint a kiss mark on his cheekbone with your lips. it’s faint and pink, glossy against the rose that steadily rises onto his face, and he doesn’t wipe it off, only smiles sheepishly.

eventually, you make it to the shooting range. it’s a large stall decorated with sea creatures and varying shades of purple and blue. you’re handed a large water gun and told to hold till the targets – large jellyfish – fall over, officially earning you a point. depending on the amount of points one receives, one might win a prize, or so the man in a pirate costume explained.

“ready?” gojo asks, fixing his glasses. you’re not sure how serious you should take this. your pride may be on the line, but this game is likely extremely rigged. he’s already the strongest, and whatever he’d receive from the pirate would ultimately make it into your hold without you having to steal or resort to anything desperate, like politely asking.

still, you are a sorcerer. if a friend and colleague is requesting, you must put on a brave front. it is the morally righteous thing to do, after all.

you put your hand on your hip and nod.

the game begins. three seconds into it you realize that the water stream is much too weak for you to successfully take down a significant number in the modest time allocated for this quest. still, you keep going, and several jellyfish fall by your skillful hand and steadfast accuracy.

no matter the physical differences or innate abilities, there should not be a lead in this competition, and if there were to be one, it would be you and your clear head compared to gojo’s impatience and petulant whining. as a matter of fact, he is not whining, nor is he sulking in defeat or trying to sabotage your chances.

he is barely containing his cackle over tightly pressed lips and quivering shoulders, his grip on the plastic so tight the bright red grip cracks a little.

the jellyfish stood in his path to victory keep falling one by one so quickly you take a second glance to ensure he’s not using an actual gun to knock them over. cursed energy permeates in the air like static after a storm, and you sigh, lowering your water gun before the timer’s up.

he's cheating. somehow you didn’t expect this, even if it was obvious from the start. should you scold him and be disappointed, thus ruining the fun for everyone out of principle?

you feel like he’s been through enough. even a fake argument would leave him discontent, and you even more so. besides, you doubt either of you would have won even the most useless trinket if you played fair and square. this you judge from the absolutely aghast expression of the stall’s owner, who might snap his neck at any moment if he keeps swinging it from jellyfish to gojo and back.

the bells chime. the game ends. with trembling hands, the pirate picks up the stuffed animal gojo pointed at and hands it over.

“there you go,” gojo thrusts the penguin in your arms, and you take it, all fluff and cold seams, “for you.”

“okay,” you concede, cradling the stupid looking bird. it's cute.

you do not miss the owner checking gojo's gun for a malfunction. he does not miss the sly look you send his way before departing.

“where to next?” you can't wait. you have had fizzy drinks, munched on so many yakitori skewers you've lost count, watched a truly horrendous standup comedian and stayed till the end of the performance out of pity, and exchanged three handmade charms for a total of two plushies. your penguin will be named yukihira because that was the name of gojo's pet koi fish.

pet, as in it was in the pond, and gojo liked looking at it the most, hence he named it. there were no pets allowed in the gojo household, or any fun, for that matter. you didn't understand, not entirely, but you wanted to. a lackluster childhood burdened with responsibility so vast and complex it's hardly comprehensible. he wouldn't elaborate further, simply bury his face into the bend of your neck and kiss until the memory had finally, and perfectly, faded from your mind, and you could breathe just a bit easier.

“to sit,” gojo says, indicating the lone bench beneath the awning across the stall, “exhausted. gotta recharge for the next conquest.”

“how dramatic,” you comment, but take his extended arm and accompany him.

together, you remain unbothered, a tiny island amidst a current of shifting yukata, cork shoes, and the occasional colorful sandal. fireflies wink around, chasing each other like sparklers.

gojo fishes out his phone and clicks his tongue, reading the message you know is there. most likely another important thing to deal with. you wish he wouldn't have to worry about anything ever again, but that sounds ridiculous even to you.

“what's up?” you lean your shoulder on his. the penguin sits on your lap, quietly reflecting your somber gaze. it's round, black eyes are welcoming, so you poke its nose.

“nothing,” he decides, waving the thought away, “it can wait, probably.”

you make a face, “that doesn't sound very assuring.”

“unlike some, i have a healthy respect for privacy,” he grins, not taking his eyes off the device even when his tone softens considerably, “i won't interrogate you if you don't want me to. so the same goes for me.”

you snort. that's a lie if you've ever heard one, because he has never shied away of reading your messages along with you or providing helpful responses. still, you won't push. you trust him. if he says it's nothing, it means it's nothing.

a short silence settles. the air feels balmy, and a phantom wind circles you. one of the lanterns has blown out, and a little trail of smoke floats to the sky.

“huh,” you blink, the information suddenly resurfacing in your brain, “the sister event is next week.”

“ugh,” he shoves his phone back into his pocket only so he could rub the disgust off of his face, “don't remind me.”

you grin, “heh, how come? we can just send you alone. we'll win anyway.”

“always gotta do all the work,” he groans, then leans his head back, fixing you with a knowing look from the corner of his eye, “aren't you going to hold my hand?”

“want me to?”

his throat bobs, the simple question alone making his breath stumble as if he was walking down a dark alley, and hearing your voice had given him goosebumps. his voice is steady when he answers, “yeah.”

with one arm securing your precious yukihara, you reach over and take his hand. his larger fingers slide over yours, catching.

“so spoiled,” you tease. he lifts your hand to press his lips to your skin. now it's your heart's turn to waver. his eyes are crinkled happily, the crescent of his smile lighting up in the growing shadows. there's something playful hiding there, too, something secretive that he wouldn't share until he was sure you'd like it, and that patience of his, newfound and endearing, spreads like sweet nectar down your throat and bubbles a giggle.

“yep,” he agrees, so delighted his nose scrunches adorably.

you could stay like this forever, watching and enjoying the thrum and beat of a summer festival. the atmosphere, the laughter and tittering, the low chatter as people find their way from one thing to another. live in this moment, like a firefly caught in a glass jar.

at one point, gojo's cheek rests on your head, and you soak in the warmth. perhaps this is his favorite part. the glow of the lanterns is just the right side of orange and highlights the angles and divots of his face, while his other hand stays coiled around yours, and his thumb rubs small, soothing patterns into your knuckles.

“let's sit it out.”

“hm?”

“the sister exchange event. haibara-kun, nanami-kun, and suguru can participate for us,” you tell him, “we could hide in the clinic with shoko.”

he pulls back from his position, but only so he could survey you properly. his stare is less calculating than it is contemplative. behind his glasses, his eyes are burning quietly. at times, there's something almost solemn glazing over his expression, softening the sharp lines and allowing his features to relax. it makes him seem so much more mature and so unlike himself that you never know how to react.

“can't,” he says with a small sigh, finally coming to stand. he pulls on your hand and you scramble, grappling to keep yukihara from falling along with all of your things, “yaga would definitely beat my ass if i ever tried pulling something. but that doesn't mean i don't want to,” his smile widens, “thank you for the offer, though.”

“wow, a sincere and gracious rejection. thanks, satoru.”

“anytime,” he winks. you flick his forehead.

no pouting this time, though, no furrowed brows or crossed arms. instead, he bites his lower lip and seems to be wrestling with himself not to jump you. he is behaving extremely well by comparison, his touches never bordering on anything even remotely inappropriate for a public settling.

you appreciate the consideration. even despite the crowded space, he is focused solely on you, his finger grazing along your palm, tickling your wrist. if you smile any wider, your cheeks will start hurting. and if he continues looking at you like that over the rim of his sunglasses, your heart will start hurting instead.

“should we head to ashinoko?” you ask, keeping yukihara close, “or will there be too many people there?”

“probably, but it doesn't matter,” he reassures, “we'll find a spot. worst case scenario i'll let you sit on me. my shoulders, to be exact.”

how would you explain the sudden rush of blood to your head? “that won't be necessary...”

“why not? can't get much of a better view. and you get to play with my hair, too,” he tacks on, “or maybe i could hold your legs and give your-”

you take back everything you thought of good behavior and growth as a person, he is nothing but a lewd pest wanting to embarrass you in the middle of a romantic setting, the absolute traitor, and you have half a mind to stomp him to death right then and there. all the private tutors in the world couldn't teach him manners, and no stifling house rules could condition him out of his shit eating grin.

he is terrible, and you like him still, more and more each day. even now, when he looks on the verge of laughing, so pleased to have flustered you, while you try and fail not to panic.

“kidding,” he assures, “mostly. i would, if you asked.”

“satoru, pl-”

“wouldn't even question it.”

“sa-”

“got a list of places i could put my mouth. just say the word.”

you've lost. completely and irrecoverably. your shoulders slump, too tired to continue picking the pieces of your shattered dignity, “yes, yes, i get it. please stop talking.”

he shrugs, unbearably nonchalant considering he basically propositioned to make you cum between fireworks displays, “if you insist.”

unruffled by any objections, like he'd simply whisk you away to somewhere secluded should you demand him to, and it would be so easy. like he's itching for a chance, a sign, a simple smile. like he'd drop to his knees if you only said yes. you're almost appalled by his shamelessness, yet that, unfortunately, is part of his charm as well.

still, what a tease. you wish yukihara wouldn't have to hear such things. your dear penguin doesn't deserve to experience such trauma so early into your care. you are so very sorry.

“then...” you steer the topic back to where it's mostly harmless, not counting his smug look that would haunt you till the end of days, “let's go?”

“okie-dokie.”

you fall back into the crowd and lose all traces of rhythm. children push past you, twittering and shrieking, with their chaperones stumbling after them and rapidly bowing apologies left and right. the ground is smooth beneath your feet, stone flattened in ages by carts and soles alike. the two of you branch off and enter a lesser known forest path to avoid the onslaught of people rushing to see the performance at the hakone shrine before the fireworks.

the change in scenery is instantaneous. the suffocating density of bodies disappears, as well as the oppressive humidity. it's darker without the fairy lights and lampposts, the cicadas overlapping everything else. the air smells like fern, cut grass, and wet tree bark, oddly fresh and cool closer to the lake.

gojo stores his sunglasses into a discreet inner pocket. his eyes glint under a stretch of tree shadow, emitting a faint bluish glow, not bright enough to lighten his features yet remaining ever present. ever so beautiful. the woods seem to sigh around you, branches fluttering nervously above as he leans in, almost a specter.

“what's wrong?” your question brushes against the fringes of his hair.

“you're looking at me funny.”

“i am? sorry.”

“like you have so much you want to say.”

“oh,” you blink, then stare down at your shoes. a fallen maple leaf rustles when you step on it, giving a dry crunch, “not really.”

“yeah, well,” he scratches his cheek, “me too, kinda.”

a soft smile, this time, something private and indulging.

for a while you don't speak, not because you can't think of anything to say, but rather can't choose the right words. none of them seem enough, too sweet or too plain. the small trek through the damp forest path leaves your shoes a bit muddy and the hems of your yukata covered in dry flakes and pine needles, most having already blown away.

you hear it first – the deep, thunderous sounds of drums coming from the direction of the shrine. then, ways down the twisting tree line, you spot dancing lights. closer and closer, and the sounds become powerful enough to shake you, vibrating through the ground up to your legs. you hold on just a bit tighter, and gojo returns the gesture firmly.

he is quiet. his head is bowed, gaze focused ahead and somewhere else at the same time, like he's thinking about other things, which, knowing him, can be anything. he leads you off the path and you follow, passing between the foliage and low hanging branches. the weather grows colder. you're approaching the shore.

finally, the landscape clears. a thin border of black pines separates water from earth. wisteria vines drape over the whole scene like curtains on windows, billowing gently. the noise of the show is still loud and beats to the drum of your heart, each thud somehow too close and too obvious. from here, you can see the massive red torii gate stood in the shallows.

the water sloshes by your feet, and the sandy soil squishes pleasantly. far and wide, there are others waiting, too, all finding their own spots amongst the reeds and gravel. a few lanterns float in the moonlit surface of lake ashinoko, bright and orange, like the ones in the market district, and you watch, captivated, as their reflections spill over the shifting water. the chimes wind up to a symphony. it's beautiful.

gojo tilts his head to you, and his lips move, but you can't hear what he's saying.

“what?” you call, ticking a waiting ear in his direction.

the boom cuts through everything, the flash of gold drowning out his face, and you realize way too late what's happening. the crackle continues, and the air trembles, releasing another burst of fireworks. the light leaves fractals dancing over him, each one landing just so, as if aimed, cascading over his eyelashes.

he repeats the words, and something about his expression makes your heart stutter: longing and apprehension quickly replaced with shyness, almost endearing as he watches you expectantly. the sky glitters around, awash in blues and greens and whites, brilliant enough to blind. you can't look away from him.

he says it again, and again, and again, and you can't read the shape of his mouth because you're too afraid of what you will find there. the drums, the cheers, the changing lights, the words airy against your lips. he kisses you. you understand the phrase now, or you hope that you do, so you tell it back, quietly, so he couldn't hear you either:

“i like you.”

your hand finds purchase on the fabric at his chest. it's tight, and his grip is strong, cradling you with such care you can't help but shiver. each kiss is like that, little sips of air, barely enough to sustain either of you, and then he holds you and you let him, boneless, allowing yourself melt into the sure, enveloping warmth.

the light is dying, and you're dizzy. yukihara sits as a witness between your pounding hearts.

eventually, the display fades away into starlight. you want to say it again, but neither of you are brave enough to do it.

gojo: just waved nanamin and haibara bye bye on their mission 4:56pm

gojo: can’t believe you all left me w ijichi ( ⩌'︿'⩌) 4:57pm

you: where’s shoko? 4:57pm

gojo: clinic like a loser i dont wanna go down there lol might catch smth 4:59pm

gojo: when are u coming back 5:00pm

you: i just got here (˶˃⤙˂˶) but probably in a few hours, i won’t stay overnight 5:01pm

gojo: yeah u wont the hell 5:02pm

gojo: my girl gotta get back to me asap ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧waiting impatinetlyyyyyyy 5:03pm

you: omg lol just bumped into some salaryman and he almost knocked me over. i think he was frightened of my poorly concealed weapon and apologized heh 5:05pm

gojo: where is he? give him ur phone i wanna talk 5:05pm

you: he left already, it’s ok 5:05pm

gojo: teleporting rn 5:06pm

you: ? you can’t do long distances stupid 5:06pm

gojo: yeah and he better be grateful that i cant 5:07pm

gojo: r u done yet want u home 5:41pm

gojo: hello? no ‘yes my gorgeous blue eyed king'? rude 5:42pm

gojo: ok it has been an hour im gonna be serious, did you meet another boy or something? cant wait to murder him 6:33pm

gojo: dont tell me you got kidnapped. i will purple the planet 7:01pm

gojo: 10 mins until i start ripping at the seams and go psycho and rip the roof off the entire city. call me rn, and then, when youre done, i'm stealing you away for a month 7:15pm

gojo: ok in a bad mood now 7:46pm

gojo: we’re talking cthulu levels of bad 8:00pm

gojo: would it be dramatic if i were to jump over a cliff 8:10pm

gojo: hi this is principal yaga gojo has jumped to his death please text back and list everything you love and find sexy about him 8:12pm

gojo: ok ur freaking me the fuck out im coming to get u u can cry abt it later and yaga can scream and shit all he wants grade 3s shouldn’t take this long 8:25pm

gojo: gonna text u till you respond, u know that, right? 2:00am

MISSION REPORT: 15.08.2009

LEAD ASSIGNED OFFICIAL: YAGA MASAMICHI, 1ST GRADE

SORCERER: KAWAKAMI Y/N, 1ST GRADE

PROBLEM DESCRIPTIONS: 3RD CLASS CURSE CONFIRMED DISPELLING PROCESS (UNKNOWN – FIRST RESPONSE TEAMS)

REPORT REGARDING JOB ACCOMPLISHED: KAWAKAMI LOCATED CURSE SITE (CHICHIBU STATION UNDERGROUND) – SCAN FOR TARGET, CRITICAL INJURY; CURSED INHERITANCE-TYPE SPECIAL GRADE – ATTEMPT AT SEALING PROCESS FAILED, DISEASED APPENDAGES, LIMBS & 80% NECROTISED FLESH - UNKNOWN ANGULATION - TIME OF DEATH, 15.08.2009. 5.13PM.

CURSE CONFIRMED DESTROYED: 15.08.2009, 9.59PM, GOJO SATORU.

DEATH REPORTED: 15.08.2009, 11.03PM, GOJO SATORU. BODY RETRIEVED: 12.15AM, MEDICAL TEAM. FINAL EXAMINATION: 2:02AM, IEIRI SHOKO.

ACCELERATED FUNERAL CEREMONY IN EFFECT AS NEXT OF KIN; NONE.

JOB SOLVED: GOJO SATORU.

MISSION REPORT SUBMITTED: NANAMI KENTO, 18.08.2009.

CLOSED.

author's note:

1) so sorry it was planned from the start 2) i do wonder how long satoru would have really sat there in the ground levels of a train station when the fight was over. he did for an hour, but if he had the time, he would likely have spent more time saying goodbye 3) now u know why the cover image of the masterlist is the specific one where gojo wakes up w tears from a dream he had about his school days

before you lynch me, the technique of our dear reader really was in her lastname - kawakami. i'm a big fan of junji ito, and since there's already a ref in jjk of his manga (uzumaki), i though "huh, it would be sooo cool if the mc had a power like tomie!!!" so i wrote this. i wrote a lot of versions, some were a bit scary, so i scrapped them. tomie kawakami's power is essentially being able to clone and heal herself from a single strand of dna, along with a bunch of disturbing stuff, but that's one of the main components of her power.

so here, i present to you an endless amount of endings (2): a) reader has really died, getou has defected, more nice trauma b) reader has not died and returns at any point after the report is submitted, as per her cool powers. getou still defects im sorry some things are doomed by the narrative

either way, u can't get over something like this. megumi? satoru? suguru? shoko? they could never heal from this, no matter if reader came back or not xx

next time i promise to write something where no one dies and there is a happy ending. but for now, that's all, folks! i love u even tho u probably hate me. that's ok. i, too, am gracious and merciful.

tags (couldn't tag in bold!). @shokosbunny , @jotarohat , @fortunatelyfurrygiver , @alygator77 , @finnydraws , @mastermasterlist1p1 , @eolivy , @letsmyy , @staruus , @k0z3me , @damnshorty , @kaeyakaikai , @n4melesspers0n , @midnightwriter21 , @sillymercury , @byakuya61085 , @stillnotherapy , @mydearchoso , @plutoisaghoul , @byerno6 , @bqvz , @harryzcherry , @noira-l , @your-sleeparalysisdem0n , @satoryaa , @cccandynecklaces , @stuffeddeer , @cherriee-ee , @ducky1232

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neuvistar · 1 year ago

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how are they in bed? 18+ minors do not interact !

— featuring ┊honkai star rail, genshin impact, jujutsu kaisen, blue lock, omniscient reader’s viewpoint men x afab!reader !

tags: @yanqingisim

your body was supported by the pillows he put beneath you, catching your lips in his before cupping your chin as he kept an arm around your waist. pulling away from your lips briefly after as he let your foreheads touch. his thrusts are steady and romantic, you could even sense passion in them as well.. like he’s fucking you with love, with emotion almost. he wanted you to feel them, to feel the love in his slow and sensual thrusts.. he can’t help it. his hands are already on your hips, angling them just right as his cock slips perfectly inside your drenched cunt. his kisses are filled with love too, planting them all over your body while you thread your fingers in his hair, small yet sweet whimpers leaving your lips. “is this alright? i’m— fuuck.. not hurting you too much now, am i?”

listen. trust me babes.. he’s gentle. and i don’t mean gentle, i mean gentle. gentle as in he treats you like a gem that should be treasured and protected, holding you like you were a feather of some sort. i assure you he loves to make sure that you’re taking him alright, reassuring you that you’re doing great.. asking you questions if he’s being too rough or if he should slow down. he takes his sweet time with you, making sure he worships every single detail and every single thing about you.. he wants you to be comfortable and he wants this to be the most comfortable experience for you. he makes sure that he caresses and kisses literally every single part of you, he’s not letting a spot go untouched.. his hands are gonna be all over you! of course they are, they’re filled with love and pure affection.. all for you. he’s definitely prepared and has a whole plan ready for aftercare afterwards, he’s just.. so sweet ! all for you too ! this man treats you like royalty during aftercare it’s so sweet, his aftercare is ON TOP i tell you <3 he never disappoints with how caring he is towards you whenever he finishes dicking you down for the night.. haha.

— SUGURU GETO, NEUVILLETTE, ARATAKI ITTO, kaeya alberich, KAVEH, nanami kento, KAEDEHARA KAZUHA, dan heng, SHIKANOIN HEIZOU, GEPARD, JING YUAN, luocha, KIM DOKJA, THOMA

tbh w u.. he said that he’d be gentle but he isn’t! honestly tho he doesn’t mean to be all rough in the first place! he just loves how addicting it is to have your pussy pulse around his dick like it’s nothing, he loves how good it feels when his cock twitching inside for more, in other words.. he’s more desperate rather than rough but whatever we’ll use the word rough in this scenario! of course though, he won’t be too rough that it would hurt.. but as long as you’re fine with it and he sees that you’re taking his cock nicely with no complications, it’s no problem for him. but yet.. his thrusts are fast yet enough to satisfy your needs, enough to drive you crazy as your knuckles turned white from clutching down at the soft surface of the pillow beneath you for support.

he just can’t help it. he fucks you from behind, that sweet yet dangerous expression on his face was enough to catch you off guard! how can he look so nice but fuck you like his life depended on it? it always seemed to confuse you! i’m pretty sure he’s capable of lasting a few rounds or so as long as you’re okay with them. on top of that, he’s good at using his cock.. he knows the right places to hit and the right places to make you weak, he loves taking you from the back so he can see just how roughly he’s being with you, especially with how hot you look with his dick repeatedly sliding in and out of your cunt at a quickened pace, you were always taking it like an absolute champ! i’m sure you didn’t expect him to be rough in bed, but he didn’t either! he didn’t even know he had this side in him until now! but who knows? maybe he wasn’t aware of the lust within his body until he got to experience it himself.

— kamisato ayato, TOJI FUSHIGURO, sampo koski, SHIU KONG, al-haitham, OLIVER AIKU, BLADE, wriothesley, RYUSEI SHIDOU, il dottore, capitano, PANTALONE

ah yes. here we have the guys who just take in your sounds and savour the feeling. tbh, these guys are in the middle.. if you want them to be tough, they’ll be rough! if you want them to be gentle, they’ll be gentle! they can play both, but if he’s actually dicking you down for the night.. i can guarantee that his eyes would be on you the entire time.. keeping tracks of your movements to check for any discomforts in your facial expressions or body language. he wants to make you feel good, yes.. but he also wants to savour in the feeling of your pussy hugging his dick too! he’s so calm during the moment, the sounds of bed squeaking and skin slapping against one another.. followed by your heavy panting and his soft grunts were the only things you could both hear. he fucks you at the pace he likes, or the pace you prefer. he doesn’t mind pounding into you like there’s no tomorrow and he certainly doesn’t mind taking it slow with you.. allowing you to savour in the moment further.

like i said, he can be what you prefer. if you want him to be rough, he’ll be rough. if you want him to take it slow and be gentle, he’ll be gentle. honestly, he might just be a teeny tiny bit quiet during the moment as well. he’s either getting lost in the moment and obsessing over just how good it feels to pound you like how ever wants to or he forces himself to stay quiet just so he can hear those pretty moans that leave your lips, knowing just how damn good hes fucking you. like i said, he’s not that verbal but that doesn’t mean he won’t let a few grunts or two escape his throat! he just wants to hear you whisper his name under your breath while he bullies his dick further inside your walls until his whole length fits! ++ his aftercare is also great i bet <3

— YOO JOONGHYUK, SATORU GOJO, cyno, SCARAMOUCHE,, XIAO, tighnari, pantalone, dainsleif, CHILDE, BAIZHU, SAE ITOSHI, albedo, CHOSO KAMO, diluc ragnvindr, welt yang, ZHONGLI

#ᖭི༏��ྀ maryse’s diary ૮꒰˶˃̵ ^ ˂̵˵꒱ა #genshin impact #jujutsu kaisen #blue lock #honkai star rail #omniscient reader's viewpoint #genshin smut #jjk smut #genshin x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #hsr smut #jjk x reader #blue lock smut #bllk x reader #bllk smut #orv smut #omniscient reader smut #hsr x reader

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seresinhangmanjake · 8 months ago

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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader - We Both Know

Summary: Simon broke up with you but you both know it was a stupid choice.

Notes/Warnings: Stalker-ish Ex!Simon; Soft!Simon; Insecure!Simon (a little bit); some smut (18+), fluff, cursing, typos probably

Words: 1642

He’s here. You know he’s here. Not because you can see him or hear him or feel him—he’s too skilled for that—but because you know Simon Riley like the back of your damn hand. And Simon Riley won’t let you go. He has not proven himself capable of letting you go. Not yet, not fully, and if you can help it, not ever.

When you close the door behind you and kick off your shoes, you don’t bother turning on the lights. You’ve spent nearly two months flipping that switch in your entryway, pretending he isn’t somewhere in your apartment. Two months of going about your nightly routine as if there isn’t an intruder in your home. Two months of ignoring the soft shutting of your front door or window once you’ve settled into bed. But you’re tired of playing this game, and frankly, you miss him—the man; not the ghost who has been haunting you, trailing you, hiding in plain sight.

“You've been watching me,” you announce into the void.

A handful of beats pass but not for a second do you let yourself believe you’re crazy for attempting to converse with blackness and silence. Then the little cord on your lamp is pulled by thick fingers, illuminating the side of the apartment where he stands. He’s a shadow in the corner of your living room, drenched in black from head to toe, skull-printed balaclava included, and it takes everything in you not to rush to his side, shove that piece of fabric up over his chin, and kiss him.

“You've made it necessary,” he scolds; the first words he has spoken to you in nearly sixty-five days. It’s the longest he has forced you to go without hearing his voice, having been attached at the hip since you met; and having that smooth, deep tone in your ear is like soaking your body in a hot bath, sloughing off the wear and dirt and grime to come out renewed and refreshed.

You nod because you know what you’ve been doing. You’ve known your choices would bring him back to you. You hoped, at least. But you also hoped he would give himself and his stalker behavior up long before you would have to call him out. He’s usually much more possessive when you spend your evenings drinking and freely dancing amongst crowds, and the thought of you flirting with other men has always put him in a sour mood. You thought seeing it up close would make his vision go red, but he's held himself back. However, you suppose him watching and following you from a distance is better than not caring to watch or follow you at all.

“You're not being safe,” he tells you.

“You mean I'm doing things you're not happy with.”

Simon doesn't respond to that. He can’t, because you’re absolutely right and he isn’t the type to disrespect you by lying to your face.

“You broke up with me to—what was it—‘live my life’ while you're gone? Do you really have a right to be pissed at me for getting a head start?” you ask as you take steps further into the apartment and toss your purse on the counter. “If that's the case, maybe you should've dumped me a little closer to your deployment date so you wouldn’t have to witness it.”

Now you do feel him. You see him through the mask. He’s bubbling inside, the beginning of a boil, because he made a silly choice and doesn’t like to be reminded of his mistakes. He hasn’t exactly voiced that, specifically, but it’s the truth. It was silly. It’s also the truth—though again, not specifically expressed—that he regretted it the very minute he walked away from you, leaving you in tears because he is the one afraid of what will happen when the two of you face his first deployment in your relationship. He is afraid to come back home expecting a loving welcome only to find disappointment if you’ve chosen to seek out the comfort of another man. So, ‘Don’t let me hold you back, love’’ he’d told you. ‘Live your life, and I’ll figure out what to do with myself.’

Simon groans, grumbles, vibrates the room. He begins to close the distance between you until he thinks better of it and halts beside your couch. “I did it because–”

“Do you miss me?”

“That is not rela–”

“Do, you, miss, me,” you press.

He swallows hard, Adam’s apple protruding under the balaclava. His fist clenches at his side. You don’t think he's going to give you the satisfaction, but then he sighs and says, “Of course I fucking miss you.”

Your breath catches in your throat and your vision starts to blur at the edges. Those words heal the bits of your heart that he broke when he left.

“Then don’t be stupid,” you say, crossing the room until your chest is nearly pressed against his. You rest your hand on his cheek, or what would be his cheek if not for the mask. “Don't make us spend your last week here apart from one another.”

With another exhale, his shoulders loosen their rigidity, and in that moment you know you have him.

“Fuck me, Si,” you whisper.

His eyes flick to yours. A flash burns through his irises.

“It'll just make it harder.” That pathetic argument betrays his actions. One of his palms instantly goes to your waist, gently tracing the curve. The gesture is so natural between you you’re not sure if he even knows he’s doing it.

“I promise it won’t,” you say.

Then your hands slide along his shoulders to grip his biceps and you slowly turn his body until you can push him into a seated position on the couch. He lets you lead. He lets you staddle his lap. He lets you lift the mask a few inches and connect your lips as you grind your hips down, hardening him within his pants.

Simon’s fingers squeeze your thighs. They travel to your hips, encouraging your movements, before they continue a path up your spine. With his tongue in your mouth, you lose track of his touch for some time until he’s settled on a placement for his hands. One wrapped around your waist, hugging you tight; the other woven into your hair, holding you in place as his kisses swell your lips, verging on bruising.

“Come on, baby,” you mutter into his ear when you break the connection to breathe. “Don’t you want to be all warm and snug inside me? Don’t you miss how well you fit? Like my pussy was made for you, right? That’s what you’ve always said.”

You know how it sounds. It’s desperate and needy, but you don’t care. You’re begging, not just for the man who sets your body aflame, but for the man who altered the trajectory of your life when he entered it. The man you refuse to live without.

“Love–” he starts, but his groan from the nibbles you give to his neck interrupts him.

“You can rest deep in me for a while if you want. I’ll stay perfectly still for you. Or I can go nice and slow the way you like.”

Moving your head back, you stop the shifting of your hips and lock your gazes. You pointlessly wait for him to deny you. Pointlessly because Simon Riley doesn’t deny you in situations like this. The equal balance of your need for one another has made that impossible, so it doesn’t surprise you one bit when he nods in agreement.

Your thumbs delicately guide the balaclava over his nose, but you stop there. Only he removes the mask. It’s his right; his decision to show his face and to whom. You are one of the lucky ones, but you’ve never taken advantage of that gift.

With one hand, Simon grips the top of his mask and jerks it the rest of the way off his head—hair sticking out in a million directions—as he sneaks his other between your bodies to undo the button of his pants. He lifts his hips, bouncing you on his lap, before you do the same so he can push his pants down his thighs.

You don’t spend time marveling at the thick column of flesh he’s pumping with his fist. You know everything about his cock. Every ridge and valley from base to tip. Every vein. Every inch of him you have memorized, and you’re too hungry to waste another second without him where you want him most.

When Simon finally slides inside of you, you hum in satisfied delight. Like basking in the heat of the sun after the chill of Winter. Like the first bite of your favorite ice cream hitting your tongue. Like quenching a thirst. Like coming home.

Simon’s head falls back against the couch and his chest heaves with heavy inhales and exhales. His eyes are closed, but you catch a hint of a smile on his face.

“We feel so good together, Si,” you say, slowly rubbing your hand up and down his chest. “I want this when you return. Don’t you want this when you return?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Then why deprive yourself of what you love? Especially when what you love wants you so bad.”

He lifts his head and reaches up to brush his knuckle from your cheekbone to your chin. “I was trying to make it easier.”

Palms cupping his jaw, you run your thumb over his bottom lip. “Fuck easy.”

“Love, it’ll be a year. No less.”

“I don’t care,” you swear. You start to rise and then you sink back down onto him. “I'll be waiting for you, Simon.”

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #modern warefare ii #mw2 cod #mw2 #call of duty #ghost x reader #simon riley fic #simon riley fanfic #simon riley imagine #simon riley fanfiction #simon riley fluff

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murdrdocs · 1 month ago

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INTERVIEW 027. THERAPIST! CHARLIE MAYHEW murdrtober oct 24th.

Your therapist gives you advice. What better way to exercise said advice than with the person that it came from? 1.1k+ words MDNI 18+

After the weekend you had, you were truly considering skipping this session. But after waking up far too late to cancel without there being some sort of financial consequence, you put on your big girl pants and made your way down to Dr. Mayhew’s office, convincing yourself that professionalism would outweigh whatever awkwardness could possibly exist between you both.

From his end, maybe there isn’t any awkwardness, but from your end the discomfort is as obvious as the hickey sitting on the side of your neck.

You try to cover it with the hood of your sweatshirt, ignoring the dampness of the fabric as you clear your throat and shift the way you’re sitting.

“So I thought today we could talk about your ex.”

As if you needed any further confirmation that Dr. Mayhew saw you out this weekend.

It was a fleeting look, and the two of you were on opposite sides of the bar, but you definitely saw your therapist outside of the office holding a beer, and he definitely saw you outside of the office holding your exes hand. The same guy you’ve cried and whined and got existential over in many of your sessions.

You don’t say anything to Dr. Mayhew. You simply sit still, knowing that there will be a question accompanied by his introduction soon after. His gaze is piercing and unwavering, so you take a second to glance at the window, watching the rain fall down the glass.

“Are you still attached to him?”

There seems to be a right or wrong answer to this question. Even though Dr. Mayhew is giving you that look, the one that’s supposed to be passive and indifferent, you can tell he has already made his own conclusions and he’s simply waiting for you to arrive at them, too. It’s obvious how he feels, from the way he sits, to the tone of his voice.

He could pretend all he wanted, but you’ve been his client for long enough to know his tells. The same way he knows yours.

“What do you mean by attached?”

He knows you’re deflecting, trying to find time to come up with yet another lie.

“I mean, are you still seeing him? In contact with him via text? Email, even.” Dr. Mayhew crosses one leg over the other and interlaces his fingers over his kneecap, drawing your attention to the difference between the outfit you see him in now and the one you saw him in over the weekend.

You don’t know which one you prefer, the relaxed jeans and well-fitting tee shirt he wore this weekend, or the clean-cut white button down and navy slacks that he wears now.

You lift your eyes to look at Dr. Mayhew and he holds your gaze, dark eyes fixed on you as he sits patiently and waits for whatever your answer will be.

You could lie to your therapist once more, wasting the immense amount of money you spend on bettering your mental health. Or, you could just tell the truth, since he already knows it.

“I’m not attached to him, but we are still in contact, yes.”

Dr. Mayhew doesn’t look disappointed, but he doesn’t look proud either. He adjusts the way he’s sitting once more, now leaning back in his seat with his legs spread just enough to gather your attention.

“Have you made any efforts to completely sever contact with him?”

You sigh, crossing your arms and leaning back in the seat. You know Dr. Charlie is noticing your body language, likely mentally cataloging it to describe you as ‘Guarded’ when he’s writing his notes after this session.

“How do you think I should do that?”

“Well I think you should get your mind off of him, for starters. Maybe try picking up a new hobby, getting out of the house without feeding into night life since that’s what the two of you would do often. Maybe even try seeing someone new, anything that will remind you that there is a life outside of the one you had with him.”

It’s a subtle suggestion thrown in there, and maybe he doesn’t mean what you think he means, but the corner of your lips quirk up as you watch Dr. Mayhew across from you. He seems nonchalant, like he hadn’t just told you that the best way to get over someone was to get under someone else. But if it’s the doctor's orders, how could you not take his advice?

You think you and Dr. Mayhew both end up getting what you want in the end. You take his advice, at least as best as you could. When your friends invite you out on Friday, you politely decline and instead spend your time at home working through a film franchise. But on Saturday when they ask you to come out again, you couldn’t say no without being a bad friend, so there you are on a Saturday night, dolled up with your friends at your sides, reinforcing that if your ex happens to be here, all of you will leave and go somewhere else. But if there’s someone hot, a potential prospect to get your mind off of your ex like your therapist advised, then by all means.

It’s weird how everything falls into place. You and Dr. Mayhew are in the same place at the same time yet again, the two of you found each other on a night where you were determined to completely get your ex out of your mind, and welcome someone else—anyone else—into the otherwise empty roster.

It’s not like you attach yourself to the first person you see, if that were the case you would’ve been with the blue collar worker who offered to buy you a drink at the bar, and not at the back of the building with the guy you pay a solid amount to listen to your problems every other week.

But there is something about Dr. Mayhew that makes him the one. He knows what you are doing, there is a silent agreement for there to be no strings attached as he takes you to his car. He just wants to help you out in any way possible, really. He tells you so as he unzips your dress and let it fall to the floor of his bedroom. He will do anything to help his clients, especially ones that he sees himself in.

“Gonna get your mind off of him, alright?” He tells you as he drops to his knees, his fingertips digging under the elastic of your lacy panties. You came prepared, dressed for the inevitable moment where you would sleep with someone new for the first time in a while.

You nod. “Yeah,” you agree, threading your fingers in Charlie’s short hair as he brought his mouth closer to your cunt.

And Dr. Mayhew does get your mind off of him.

He’s so good to you, so attentive to exactly what you need. It’s no wonder he went into medicine, his bedside manner is fucking incredible.

#charlie mayhew x reader #charlie mayhew x you #icarus writes misc #kinktober #murdrtober 2024

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beenbaanbuun · 10 months ago

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misunderstandings w/ san

words - some

genre - fluff/angst with a dash of nsfw but not smut

warnings - horny!san, soft!san, sad!reader, misunderstandings, san in grey sweatpants, mentions of sex, no actual sex/sexual acts, reader speaks in riddles and expects san to understand

it’s no surprise to anyone that san likes to be cosy and comfy

we’ve all seen that fuzzy great sweater that he always wears

that thing looks like it would send me to sleep within seconds of putting it on, but i digress…

another item of clothing he keeps close to his heart is sweat pants, more specifically grey ones

he says they’re just comfy, but you know exactly why he wears them

they cling to his thighs so nicely and leave very little to the imagination

sometimes just seeing him in them is enough to drive you insane

it’s even worse if he takes a shower before putting them on, because 9 times out of 10, that man is not putting underwear on with them

a shirt is also optional… apparently san just doesn’t like the way they feel when his skin is damp

personally, you think san just does it because he knows it drives you crazy

in fact, there’s been more than a few times when you’ve texted san throughout your day at work about how much you miss him

and shown up at the end of the day with him on your couch, just like that; half naked with sopping wet hair

and whilst ‘i miss you’ usually is just code for ‘i’m horny’, sometimes it just means you’re having a bad day and want to hold him close for the rest of the day

either way, you don’t mind showing up to your house with a half naked san on your couch

you’re about to get the best dick of your life, or incredibly soft cuddles

it all depends on your response to his obvious advances, although sometimes he isn’t the best at taking hints

“you’re home,” he opens his arms the moment you walk through the door, as if asking for a hug

you’re more than happy to oblige, dumping your bag on the floor and letting your tired body collapse onto his

it had been a frustrating day to say the least

your coworker had been off so her work had been passed to you, despite the fact that no one person would be able to do all of that by themselves

still, the boss expected it whether you complained or not

saying you were drained was an understatement

as your body connects with san’s, he grunts, but catches you effortlessly

“fucking hell, babe,” he squeezes you gently as he holds you to his chest, “careful, yeah?”

you nod half heartedly into the damp skin of his neck

“you’re naked,” you deadpan, snuggling into his warmth a little

you know what it means, but you haven’t quite decided whether that’s what you want or not

maybe sex would take your mind off the day behind you

or maybe it would overstimulate you and send you spiralling… who’s to know!

“hardly,” he replies, “i have my sweatpants on…”

“and what are the chances of there being something underneath,” you wait for his response, but he stays silent which tells you everything you need to know

not that you need any confirmation; you can feel his hardening dick pressing against your thigh

you decide then and there that no, sex definitely would not be the best option

the thought alone of the ache that would follow is enough to make you decide that you certainly could not handle it right now

“it’s covered, is it not?” he finally says through pouted lips

you sit up fully and look at him with a fed-up expression, hoping he gets the message

you’d never been too good at saying no to people

something along the lines of not wanting to disappoint people

usually you just dropped hints and hoped for the best; san usually understood sooner or later

“it’s rock hard against my leg, san,” you scoff, “i don’t think your sweatpants are going to stop me from feeling that…”

he shrugs with a smirk

“that sounds like a you problem,” he says, which is actually factually incorrect, “maybe you should do something to sort it out…”

you can’t help but sigh at his inability to take any sort of hint

“or maybe, you can take yourself up to the bathroom and get rid of the problem yourself!”

it’s more obvious that the glare you gave him previously

still, the smirk remains as though you’re just teasing him

he shakes his head with a grin

“but you’re literally right here,” he whines, “and the bathroom is all the way upstairs…”

“i’m not in the mood to ache right now, sannie,” you once again, drop a hint that he, once again, completely disregards

in fact your statement makes him smile, clearly happy with what your statement implies about how good he fucks you usually

“i’ll be gentle?”

“san!” you scold, frustrated that your rock-headed boyfriend can’t seem to understand that whether or not he was rough was not the issue here

“i’m just saying,” he puts his hands up defensively

you look down at him with tired eyes, frustrated tears forming in the corners as you grow tired of throwing hint after hint at him

as much as you hated saying ‘no’ so bluntly, you settle on the fact that you might have to

“san,” you start, taking a deep sigh to calm your nerves, “i’m trying to tell you that i don’t want to have sex right now.”

you have to force yourself to look at him

even though you know that he’ll be more than fine with that fact, you can’t help but feel a little guilty about it

and when you look up at him, you can’t help not notice that his face falls a little

not that he’s upset at you not wanting sex, he’s just upset that he clearly misread the situation

and maybe he feels a little (a lot) guilty for pushing so hard when, now that he thinks back on it, you actually weren’t that interested

“oh, baby,” he mumbles softly as he moves his hands to rest against your thighs that sit either side of hips, “bad kind of ‘i miss you’, huh?”

you nod

“the bad kind,” you respond with a shrug, as if you’re trying to pass it off as nothing

but of course, gentleman san would never let that happen

because your emotions are never nothing

“you should’ve told me straight away,” he scolds gently, “or maybe i should’ve asked…” he frowns, “either way, if i’d have known i’d never have pushed so hard… you know that, right?”

you nod ever so slightly

of course you should’ve told him straight away, but again, saying no is hard for you and the ever present fear of disappointment hangs over your head like a rain cloud

and while you were positive that nothing you did could ever disappoint san, there was still something in the back of your brain that told you otherwise

“of course i know that, sannie,” you pout, “but you know me…”

“hm, i do know you,” he mutters as he rubs gentle circles into your thighs, “and i know how scary saying no is, but it’s just me.”

just san… it’s just san

you nod, understanding exactly what he means

there’s no external judgement, or any judgement at all for that matter, because it’s just san

and san doesn’t care about these things

san just wants to make you happy and if sex wouldn’t make you happy, then san would happy live with blue balls for the night

you nod again, more enthusiastic this time

“it’s just you,” you give him a small smile, which he returns without even a second passing

“there’s that pretty smile,” he coos before shifting his hands to your waist and tugging you gently until you’re lay flat against his chest once more

and you’re happy to just lie there in silence as san trails his fingers up and down your spine to soothe you

he’s not asked about your day yet, and he probably won’t for a while, content to sit in silence and love you for now

and you’re content too

very content

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez fluff #ateez fic #ateez headcanons #ateez smut #san fic #san oneshot #san fluff #san x reader #ateez angst #san smut #san angst

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cherthegoddess · 10 months ago

Note

Request for Evan Buckley, Y/N is a trainee paramedic doing her externship under Hen and Chimney at the 118 before she takes the paramedics exam and Buck is so smitten and has such an obvious crush but Y/N isn’t giving him the time of day and the whole crew finds it hilarious but she eventually agrees to go on a date with him

Thank you so much for this request! I got sick midway through writing it and I am still sick butttt I hope you enjoy!

Rejection

Evan Buckley x Reader

Warning: This was written with a black reader in mind but anyone can read it!

Word Count: 1.5k+

Join my taglist and rate the story here! (New taglist coming soon)

Rejection

“Hey Eddie, who’s that?” Buck asks, pointing a finger. He watches Chimney and Hen laugh with a woman Buck has never seen before. Eddie looks up with an eyebrow raised, looking at the direction that Buck is pointing. “Oh, that’s Y/n. She came in yesterday when you were off shift. She’s doing an externship with Hen and Chim before her paramedic exam, I think.” Buck’s eyes have yet to leave Y/n and Eddie notices. Eddie lets out a breathy laugh. “You’re going to burn holes in that girl if you keep staring, Buckley.” When he doesn’t stop, Eddie bumps Buck's shoulder. “She’s beautiful.” Buck gets up to talk to her but groans when the bell begins to ring. Eddie gets up finishing his last bite of food. He taps Buck’s back. “At least you get to see her in action soon.” Eddie rushes off to get his gear on. Buck watches for a minute as Y/n grabs things for the ambulance and then hops in. “Come on Buck!” Cap yells out putting Buck back in reality. He rushes to get ready.

The scene was cold and bloody with a few missing fingers in between. A few ice skaters had a collision after one of the skaters lost balance. Y/n felt like she was on cloud nine because of how much praise she was receiving from both Hen and Chimney. She had just finished wrapping the second to last person when she saw a guy slipping across the ice. Y/n giggles slightly as he struggles to catch himself. “Hey Hen, Chim? Who’s that?” She asks still looking at the handsome man as he finally stands up straight. They both look up to see who she’s looking at. “That’s Evan Buckley. But everyone calls him Buck.” Hen answers first. Chim looks at the way Y/n is looking at Buck. He bumps Hen’s shoulder as she fixes up the last person for transport. Hen looks up seeing where Y/n’s eyes are. “Oh no. Don’t tell me,” Y/n looks over, worried that something happened with the patient when there’s nothing she’s confused. “We know that look. That’s all.” Y/n is even more confused by Chim’s statement. “You’re making googly eyes kid.” Y/n shakes her head. “I am not! But a separate question, not that I care at all, is he single?” Chim and Hen laugh at her statement as they walk with the gurney, taking their last patient to the ambulance. When they get them settled and have the doors closed, they turn to Y/n. “Y/n we’re going to warn you for both you and Buck. Buck is or was a bit of a player. He’s tried the long-term thing and to put it simply it hasn’t worked out. I know your externship is only for a few months and you’re going to go off to who knows where. I just don’t want either of you getting hurt.” Y/n nods her head in thought, the other two walk forward. Behind her, Buck runs up to her. “Hey.” Y/n looks to her side and notices the handsome firefighter. She smiles slightly and nods her head. “Y/n right? Nice to meet you, I’m Buck.” Buck puts his hand out for her to shake. She accepts his handshake. “Nice to meet you, too, Buck.” Buck grins at the mention of his name, he loves it way it sounds. “Planning to be a paramedic, huh? From what I’m seeing you’re a natural.” Y/n smiles and nods. “Well if you ever wanna talk about the job over coffee…” Buck pauses looking at Y/n for a response. “Maybe some other time,” She smiles and makes her way onto the van with Hen. “Catch you later.” She says with a wave. Buck frowns disappointed, he grins when he remembers she said some other time.

It had been a month and a half since Y/n started her internship and a few minutes since Buck last flirted with her. Ever since the warning from Hen and Chim, Y/n did her best to ignore Buck’s constant flirting and to try to push down the feelings that she had for him. Everyone found her rejection funny even Cap. There was even a drinking game that the others, each person taking a shot every time Y/n rejected Buck (besides Cap who played with shots of water). The game was usually cut short because it would happen 5 times in a minute. Y/n couldn’t help but admire Buck’s commitment. Buck grew to like Y/n for more than just her looks over the past weeks. It was her determination to do the job, her kindness to everyone around her, and the empathy she showed, she even had Chris wrapped around her finger, even if Y/n was for sure to say it was the other way around. He watched her and Chris currently at the cookout that Cap was holding. Y/n’s face lit up as soon as he came over to her. Buck had no idea what they were talking about but it had Chris laughing. “She’s really good with him,” Eddie said walking up to Buck. “Yeah she is,” He said without his eyes leaving her form. Suddenly Chris gives his best subtle thumbs up to Buck and Buck returns it. And Y/n definitely misses the exchange but Eddie doesn’t. “Please don’t tell me you’re using my kid for your flirting.” Buck smiles as Eddie groans. “I am not using your kid for my flirting.” Eddie shakes his head.

“What do you think about my Uncle Buck?” Chris asks randomly. Y/n laughs and pulls the boy closer tickling his sides. “Are you scheming for your Uncle Buck?” Chris laughs. “Maybe.” Y/n tickles a bit more. “Okay! Okay! He bribed me to ask. He said he’d give me 10 bucks!” Y/n releases him with a smile. “You’re supposed to be on my side Chrissy.” Chris looks serious for a moment. “You should go on a date Y/n/n. He’s really nice! And he saves people like you! You have a lot in common!” She gives Chris a small smile. “We’ll see Chris,” Y/n says. Chris gets up quickly and makes his way over to Buck. “Buck! Buck!” Buck picks Chris up by his legs. “What’s up, buddy? Did you complete your mission?” Buck says with a smile. Chris nods his head. “She said ‘We’ll see.” Buck turns his head towards Y/n for confirmation. “We need to talk first,” Y/n says to Buck. “Outside?” Y/n nods her head as he puts Chris down. “Wanna take a walk around the block?” Buck asks and Y/n confirms as Buck grabs his jacket.

The sun was slowly starting to set when they got outside. There were a few minutes of silence. “So…” They both say at the same time. They laugh. “You go first.” Buck motions. “When I first got here Hen and Chimeny told me something about you.” Buck raises an eyebrow. “What did they tell you?” Y/n looks up at the sky. “Don’t tell them I told you, but they said that you hadn’t had anything serious for a long time and you’re a bit of a player.” Buck wipes a hand over his face groaning. “I’m not really a short-term girl and I didn’t want to try anything if I was going to go to a further station. I wanted to wait to ask you what you were looking for after I got the confirmed assignment.” Buck pauses looking at her. “I guess you got your assignment back?” Y/n nods with a smile, “Cap informed me today that I will be staying with 118. Don’t tell Hen I told you first. I was supposed to tell her.” Buck grins congratulating her. “Thank you, but that means that it’s time for my question. What are you looking for here? I don’t want to be just one of your conquests or something. I like you and I don’t want to get hurt-” Buck cuts her off, “You like me?” Y/n nods sheepishly. “I like you too. And I don’t want something short with you Y/n. The player thing was from a while ago and even then since I met you, I haven’t been with another woman. I can’t even if I wanted to, you’re all that’s on my mind Y/n. I wouldn’t embarrassingly get rejected all the time if I didn’t want something with you.” Buck stands right in front of Y/n now. They’re close, only breathe apart. “You wanna try?” Buck nods, “I wanna try.” Y/n then breaks the gap between them and pushes her lips against his. They fit perfectly against each other. It is slow and sweet like no kiss either has ever had before. They release. “Remind me to give Chris $1,000.” Y/n laughs. “Me too.”

@https-a1

@faatxma

@stilesstilinskivoid

@meekmillsfrenchfries

@unlikelysportsllamakid

@whoopigol-barnes

@thecurlyhairedgoddess

@dianawritessometimes

@lovebyceleste

@daphnescorner

@quaksonhehe

@im-marypoppins-yall

@motheroffae

#reader #x reader #black!reader #911 #911 fanfic #911 fox #911 x reader #buck x reader #evan buckley x reader #eddie diaz #chris

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danny-doodles · 2 months ago

Text

Steve’s Hobby

This is a short 2k blurb about one of my Steve hcs, I am only really good at critical analysis writing so I’m sorry if this is bad!! Creative writing isn’t my strong suit but I felt like I couldn’t really explain this hc in a drawing as well as writing it could.

Growing up Steve was often taught the importance of words from his father, thinking it would be useful for his son’s future in the business. Steve was never the best reader, letters jumping around the page made it too difficult, so instead he listened to everyone around him. Teachers, his parent’s coworkers, older kids, all of them taught him the importance of the meaning of words.

How certain words would make someone a town pariah yet others a god among men. Steve was a more quiet kid but as he grew up he also grew confident in his words. He could tear someone down with one sentence, ensuring they knew he was not to be messed with. That’s why he was so confused when he struggled in his english class, he knew the power of words and the many meanings, but his teacher never understood. Sure he made grammar errors, how no one else struggled with the dancing letters he didn’t get, but how could the teachers not understand his connections? Steve shouldn’t have to explain why the red of the handmaid’s cloaks represented the ripping of humanity from the women, it was so clear to him. Obviously the boar head could be comparable to the church, how could his teachers not make the connection?

Even Nancy didn’t understand, someone he considered smarter than him. He knew she was trying to be nice when she critiqued his college paper but it still left him in the fog. Basketball was war to him, a fight that was pointless with one but possible with many. A challenge that called for leadership and a strict order. Everyone had the roles, knew where and when to shoot, needed the ability to think quickly on their feet and not struggle under the pressure. Uniforms to not only separate from the enemy but to show they are a unit reaching for a common goal. It was so clear leaving no need to explain, especially to Nancy.

But she didn’t get it, no one got it.

Maybe he wasn’t as good with words as he thought.

Steve from then on fumbled his words when he got nervous, scared he would say something that made him sound dumb and point out his weakness with words. The concussions didn’t help either, making him take longer to grasp concepts. Reading felt nearly impossible, the headaches were unbearable. Not to mention the kids' comments, judgmental and brutal as if Steve didn’t have a reason to struggle in the first place.

Everyone around him loved to put him in a sudden spotlight and when he didn’t say the right line he was booed off stage and dealt with the looks of disappointment from his co stars for messing up. So Steve stuck to what he knew, his quick remarks. Were they bitchy? Yes, but not coated in malice like they used to be. Piggybacking off others points with sarcastic comments so the other person kept talking, anything to get the attention off him.

But Steve had a secret hobby that he shared with no one, not even with his platonic soulmate with a capital P Robin.

Steve wrote poetry.

Years of horrors that by law he couldn’t share that caused vicious nightmares and a clammy grasp on reality at times tended to keep Steve up. Another gift bestowed by his father though was a feeling of shame when sharing his emotions. Didn’t help that those emotions were typically down played or outright ignored by others. Therefore a bottle filled with his emotions rested in Steve’s chest, which after Vecna he really realized probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do. So Steve took to writing them down, but he did it for himself.

No need to explain everything, he knew what he meant, he knew every context of every word. He wrote on his experiences, his emotions. He wrote when he was happy, he wrote when he was sad. Steve wrote and wrote and found his love for words again. And god did it feel good, it felt like taking back his voice from a world that underappreciated it. In a weird way it felt like revisiting a relative he had last seen as a child, that sense of freedom and the loss of expectation because in their eyes he was still that little kid. All they wanted was to see someone they loved and to Steve the words welcomed him back with a hug that rivaled his Nonna Maria’s.

Steve would ponder over lines at random intervals of the day, biting his pencil between his teeth during the quiet hours at work or simply jotting down a line right before picking the kids up. Steve wrote so often he kept his small little notebook on him at all times, usually accompanied by a pencil bound to it with a rubber band. (Turns out having hearing aids and glasses made it really difficult to put pencils behind one's ears). At this point everyone had seen his notebook, pale blue with some star stickers because he never had a shortage of them. Everyone assumed it was for something different. Some thought it was grocery lists, to-do lists, something productive. Others thought it was like a pocket calendar with all his plans listed so he didn’t forget. Dustin insisted it was meant to hold the definitions of anything D&D related so Steve never forgot, meanwhile Robin argued it was to hold all the wonderfully obscure movie recommendations she loved to give. All of them were wrong though and Steve kind of adored it that way. He didn’t have to explain himself that way, he could continue to hide under the blankets. Steve no longer held his tongue out of fear of others but because he had an outlet he much rather prefer.

Listening now felt less like a pop quiz, waiting for him to mess up his response, it felt like an actual conversation. Steve may not speak up as much as he would have before the Upside Down but he fell back in love with his own voice and maybe one day he would feel confident enough to share it with the Party, but for now it was all his.

No matter how much they wanted to prove who was right, the kids and older teenagers never touched the book when it was rarely separated from Steve. Well...after someone tried to grab it and they learned they really shouldn’t touch it.

While at the Harrington house the Party were preparing for a campaign session when the argument about the pale binded pages was brought up again. Steve had left it on the kitchen counter while he went to the bathroom, and Mike decided he was done with the bickering. He shot up and went to retrieve and open the book but before he could grab it the book flew through the air.

All the heads turned and landed on El holding it in her hand, “We are not Steve, this is his. It is rude to invade his privacy, would you like me to watch you without telling you,” everyone quietly shook their heads, “Then we do not watch Steve without him knowing.”

That’s exactly when Steve walked back in, it takes one look across the room at all the embarrassed faces and El holding his book with frustration painting her eyes to know what had occurred while he was gone. He walks up, kisses El on her head and softly thanks her while taking back his little literature.

After that incident no one dared touch the book or face the wrath of their favorite mage. They would find out when Steve was ready for them to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That damn little book haunted Eddie’s thoughts. He knew Steve was not what he assumed him to be so anything was on the table, he had been wrong about the guy before who's to say he won’t be this time?

Of course Eddie wanted to respect Steve’s privacy because Eddie personally would be mortified if Steve had seen any of his notebooks, mainly because of the pages of lyrics that not so subtly hinted at an itsy bitsy affection for the badass babysitter. If that didn’t give Eddie away the random ‘Eddie Harrington’ and ‘Steve Munson’ with hearts all over would finish the job. So yeah, Eddie was not crazy to offer up any of his notebooks to venture into Steve’s book. He just had no idea the universe would present him with a much more favorable offer.

Steve and Eddie started hanging out a lot more after Vecna, no shocker considering they shared a hospital room, and soon the bat buddies would spend their time together outside of the hospital. That’s why it wasn’t surprising for Steve to let Eddie venture into Steve’s room while he went to pick up their lunch.

Eddie was somewhat of a curious cat, so when he spotted the notebook and some papers scattered on Steve’s desk he was like a moth to a flame. He softly glided his fingers over the blue cover and exhaled some breath in a soft laugh over the star stickers Steve oh so loved. It was the paper though that caught his eye when he finished observing the book. It looked like lyrics at first but then he realized some of the lines were too short to be lines, if anything they looked more like stanzas from a poem. Steve had poetry on his desk, did Steve read poetry? Thee Steve Harrington likes poetry? God his whole doctrine was garbage huh. Eddie moved the paper towards him and started to read.

Watchful gaze

Setules on the glass.

Wishful gaze

Silent pleas of escaping rolling in the mouth

Fingertips slipping through the veil,

Grasping for warm hands,

Receiving lukewarm.

Hesitant to grab.

Dependency clasping the palms

Such a feverish feeling

Poking at the appendages,

A coldness that numbs.

Gently gripping for the heat,

The balmy yields.

Smoke and simmers,

Arms rushing to sides

Frozen.

Yearning for ardor,

Turn not yet given,

Waiting for the impossible,

Waiting for the unobtainable,

So understanding.

So relieving.

So desperate.

So alone.

Standing for the calling.

So patient.

So pathetic.

Empty Hands by Steve H.

Eddie was staring at the very last line on the paper, utterly flabbergasted. Steve wrote this? Steve writes poetry?! Is that what resides in the little book? Before Eddie could even find the power to turn to the book to look, Steve walked into his room. Again a quick look is all Steve needed to take before he knew what happened in his absence.

“Oh! Uh..I’m guessing you read it.”

Eddie slowly looked back up while caressing the paper, “Yeah, you..um..you really wrote this? Is that…uh..what’s in your notebook? Cause I will admit I never would have guessed that.”

Steve started scratching his neck, “I don’t blame you,” he huffs, “But yeah I write poetry, helps to let some of the thoughts out considering our lives y'know?”

“I totally get it dude! Lord knows my lyrics are infected with the whole spring break bullhonkey. So..totally cool if you don’t want to tell me but, why is this one out of the book? Were you gonna write it into the book?” Eddie picked up the paper to place it next to the notebook and turned to face Steve.

“Actually I copied it from the notebook, I’m gonna, okay wait, you can’t tell anyone this-”

“Even Robin?” Eddie exaggerated his smile to look wild.

“Even Robin.” Steve nodded with his eyes shut.

Eddie put his hands together and swayed while standing, “Wowww look at me, lil old Eddie Munson getting to learn the secrets of the mysterious writer Steve Harrington.”

“Eddie, you want to know or not?” Steve sighed as he put his hands on his hips.

“Yes. Yes please,” Eddie eagerly replied, barely letting Steve finish his sentence.

“The last time I went to Indy with Robin to go shopping at their mall we went to a cafe. The bulletin board had a flier for a poetry night and I got curious I guess.”

“You gonna perform the poem there?”

“That’s the plan.”

Eddie could understand wanting a fresh slate when it came to having a reputation. “Craving anonymity? Must be tough considering you are Hawkin’s golden boy.”

Steve smiles brightly and Eddie sees his shoulders lose tension, tension Eddie didn’t even notice because he was so distracted by the fact that holy shit Steve is a poet. “Exactly.”

Honestly Eddie would give anything to hear more of Steve's hidden works, he grabs some of his hair and brings it to cover his mouth, “I know you don’t intend to tell the rest of the bunch, but uh..would you allow a humble bard to observe your lyrical performance?”

Eddie looks at Steve’s face for any hint of annoyance and finds none, instead he finds a look that he could hope to be correct in his guess is excitement.

“Really? You’d want to hear more, it's not confusing or stupid to you?” Steve softly smiled at Eddie, making him swoon inside.

“It's art! It doesn’t need to make sense, it just needs to make you feel good, who cares if others are confused. And for what its worth even if I’m not right on the money that poem made me feel Steve, I mean as the expert in self-expression it felt real and vulnerable, y’know.” Eddie had to shut himself up before he himself waxed poetry about just how much he is dying to hear more from Steve to learn more about him.

“Thanks Eddie.” Steve gazed at Eddie as if no one had ever told him that before. Which now that hes thinking about it that’s probably the truth. Guess Eddie needed to constantly remind him then.

Eddie smiled, mirroring Steves while bending at his waist, “Oh but of course my liege.”

“Oh my god okay Eddie cmon the food’s gonna get cold.”

Steve started to leave his room and Eddie rushed to follow him, “Now that I know what the book is filled with may I pretty please read it?” Rapidly blinking his eyelashes in an attempt to look innocent and pure but instead looking like a piece of dust got in his eyes.

“Nope.”

“Ugghhh c'mon Steve! Just imagine the look on the little hellions when they see me opening the book! God the jealousy! The feeling of betrayal when they see me reading Steve Harringtons’s treasure trove of text and they are none the wiser to what is inside. And the best part, I have permission! The power I would hold Steve! The possibility, I could use them like little puppets to do my bidding while they crave information I alone hold!”

“Eddie that sounds like a headache for me waiting to happen, they’re just gonna badger me to tell them because they would claim it’s unfair you know and they don’t.”

“Eh, their egos could take a little hit don’t you think?” Eddie was now resting his head on Steve’s shoulder as the younger started to bring the food out of the carry out bag.

“Can I read your lyric notebook?”

Eddie’s eyes went wide as his brain proceeded to remind him of every lyric he had written around his devotion to Steve. Red in the face Eddie responded quickly, “Nope! Mmm you smell that Stevie I’m so hungry, aren’t you?”

“Subtle Munson.”

“Tis my middle name.”

Steve fondly rolled his eyes, “Sure.”

As they settled down on the couch Eddie tracked Steve grabbing the remote, “So I can really watch you?”

Steve turned and looked at Eddie with a calmness on his face. “Yeah Eddie.”

Eddie grabbed his hair as Steve stared at him, “Cool, cool, it’s a date.” Eddie froze about to panic silently as he tried to fix his slip up.

“Yeah, it's a date.” The two looked at each other, neither wanting to look away. After a minute or so Steve turned on the TV and if the two fell asleep together it was their business.

#my writing #steve harrington #steddie #eddie munson

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moonselune · 3 months ago

Note

Hello!! Could you write one with your choice of characters and there baddie. Where tav thinks violence isn’t the answer and the bg3 characters ask“ what’s your plan then..?? To defeat them with the power of friendship….oh my gods it is….

Oooo okay so I'm going to do this for what I call the durge gang because they would have the biggest- basically the companions who stick around when you go full durge

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

The air in the tent was thick with tension as you and Minthara sat across from each other, the remnants of a heated discussion still hanging in the space between you. You had been planning your next move against a band of marauders terrorizing a nearby village, and while Minthara had advocated for a swift and brutal attack, you had hesitated. Minthara's sharp eyes studied you, her expression a mixture of disbelief and frustration.

"You can't be serious," she said, her voice dripping with incredulity. "You honestly think we can reason with these scum? Convince them to change their ways?"

You crossed your arms, standing firm in your decision. "I believe in giving people a chance to do the right thing. Violence should always be a last resort, Minthara."

Minthara let out a harsh laugh, shaking her head. "Oh, this is rich. And what's your plan, then? To defeat them with the power of friendship?"

She paused, her eyes narrowing as realization dawned on her.

"Oh my gods, it is."

You felt your cheeks flush slightly at her words, but you held your ground. "I think we can appeal to their better nature. Maybe they’re just lost, or desperate. If we can show them there’s another way—"

Minthara cut you off with a snort, her lips curling into a smirk. "You actually think these marauders have a 'better nature' to appeal to? You’re living in a dream world if you think they’re going to listen to anything but the edge of a blade." She leaned forward, her gaze piercing. "This isn’t some storybook where the hero wins with a kind word and a smile. Out there, it's kill or be killed. And you’re risking your life—and mine—on some ridiculous notion of mercy."

You sighed, knowing how deeply ingrained her beliefs were, but still unwilling to back down. "I’m not naive, Minthara. I know the risks. But I have to believe that not everything has to be solved with bloodshed."

Minthara shook her head, leaning back in her chair with a look of exasperation. "You're going to regret this. When your plan backfires and they turn on us, don't say I didn't warn you."

The next day, you put your plan into action. You approached the marauders with an open hand, speaking to them calmly, offering them a chance to surrender, to find a different path. Minthara stood a few paces behind you, arms crossed, her expression one of barely concealed disdain.

For a brief moment, you thought you saw a glimmer of doubt in the eyes of the leader. He hesitated, as if considering your words. But then, with a sneer, he laughed in your face and ordered his men to attack.

The battle that followed was chaotic and brutal. You fought alongside Minthara, who, despite her earlier mocking, had your back through every strike and parry. But as the dust settled and the bodies of the marauders lay scattered across the ground, you couldn’t help but feel a deep pang of disappointment.

As you wiped the blood from your blade, Minthara approached you, her expression a mixture of triumph and something almost like pity.

"I told you," she said, her voice low and smug. "I warned you this would happen, my dearest. You tried to reason with animals, and they bit you. Violence isn’t just an answer—it’s the only answer with scum like them."

You felt your heart sink at her words, the sting of failure weighing heavily on your shoulders.

"I just wanted to try a different way," you muttered, more to yourself than to her.

Minthara’s smirk widened, and she reached out to tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet her gaze. "And look where that got you. If I hadn’t been there, you’d be dead. Your idealism is going to get you killed one day, and I won’t always be there to save you from yourself."

You couldn’t argue with her. The truth of her words stung as much as her mockery, but you couldn’t help but feel a stubborn resolve still burning within you. You’d tried—and failed—but that didn’t mean you’d stop believing in the possibility of a better way.

Minthara, however, seemed content in her victory. She gave you a lingering look before turning away, her voice carrying over her shoulder as she walked off. "Next time, listen to me, love. You might just live longer."

You watched her go, feeling the weight of the lesson she had driven home. But even as you stood there amidst the aftermath, you couldn’t entirely give up on your ideals. However, you knew better than to challenge Minthara’s approach again anytime soon. Not unless you were prepared for her to say, "I told you so."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆��. ───

Lae'zel:

The conversation had started out as a simple strategy discussion, but as it progressed, a divide between your philosophies became increasingly apparent.

Lae'zel, ever the pragmatist, had suggested an aggressive approach to deal with the band of brigands that had been terrorizing the nearby village. You, on the other hand, had proposed a more peaceful solution—trying to reason with them, to offer them a chance to change their ways without bloodshed.

As you finished explaining your plan, Lae'zel’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. She leaned forward, her intense gaze boring into you.

"You cannot be serious," she said, her voice laced with skepticism. "What is your plan then? To defeat them with the power of friendship?" There was a pause before her expression shifted to one of realization. "Oh by Mother Gith, it is…"

You felt your face heat up, her words cutting into your confidence. It was one thing to believe in the goodness of people, but hearing it framed so mockingly by Lae'zel made you question your own resolve. Her laughter followed, a deep, throaty sound that both unnerved and irritated you.

Lae'zel shook her head, her laughter subsiding into a smirk. "You’re too soft, too trusting. They’ll cut you down before you can utter a word of peace. This is not some child's tale where good intentions win the day."

Her amusement gnawed at you, your initial confidence wavering. Maybe she was right. Maybe it was foolish to think you could sway the hearts of brigands with words alone. But then again, you believed in the possibility of change, in the strength of diplomacy. It had to be worth something, didn’t it?

Seeing your hesitation, Lae'zel leaned back, her smirk never fading. "Your plan is as flimsy as your resolve. You’ll get yourself killed, and for what? A misguided hope that the wicked can be redeemed?"

Her words, though harsh, hit a nerve. The doubt she had planted began to fester, and you could feel your frustration growing. Defensive, you shot back at her, "It’s not foolish to want to find another way. Not everything has to be solved with violence, Lae'zel!"

But even as you spoke, the wavering in your voice betrayed your own uncertainty. Lae'zel noticed it immediately, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she had already won the argument. That smug, knowing look on her face was the final straw.

Without thinking, you lashed out, giving her a light but firm whack on the arm. It wasn’t enough to hurt her, but it certainly caught her off guard.

"Stop laughing at me!" you demanded, your tone more petulant than you intended. The words tumbled out in a childish strop, and you could feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment. Lae'zel looked down at where you had struck her, then back up at you, her smirk widening into a full grin.

"Oh, so the little diplomat has claws after all," she teased, her voice dripping with amusement.

You glared at her, folding your arms across your chest as you huffed in irritation. "I’m serious, Lae'zel. Just because I don’t want to go charging in with swords drawn doesn’t mean I’m wrong."

Lae'zel chuckled softly, her laughter more affectionate this time. She reached out, placing a hand on your shoulder, her grip firm but not unkind.

"You’re not wrong to want peace," she said, her tone softening slightly. "But you must understand, in this world, it is strength that dictates survival. And sometimes, that strength must be wielded with force."

You wanted to argue, to insist that your way could work, but the confidence had drained out of you, leaving you feeling more frustrated than anything. Lae'zel’s words had unnerved you, and now, with the heat of the moment passing, you felt a little silly for losing your temper. Lae'zel, sensing your turmoil, gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Do not doubt your convictions," she said quietly. "But know that I will always be there to protect you, even when your heart leads you into danger."

You sighed, the tension slowly ebbing away as you leaned into her touch.

"I know," you muttered, still feeling a bit sulky but less inclined to argue further. Lae'zel smiled, her expression softening in a way that was reserved only for you.

"Good," she murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "Now, let’s focus on what we can do together. Whether by word or by blade, we’ll handle whatever comes our way."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

The two of you had been sitting by the campfire, discussing the best approach to deal with a group of hostile mercenaries that had been causing trouble in the nearby village. Shadowheart, ever pragmatic and wary of risk, had suggested a straightforward approach—one that involved steel, blood, and as little negotiation as possible.

But you, ever the optimist, had a different idea. "Violence isn't the answer," you had said firmly, hoping to convince her that there was another way. "We can talk to them, maybe even convince them to leave peacefully."

Shadowheart had looked at you with a raised eyebrow, her expression a mix of skepticism and concern.

"What’s your plan then?" she had asked, her tone dripping with doubt. "To defeat them with the power of friendship?" There was a pause, her eyes narrowing slightly as realization dawned. "Oh my gods… it is, isn’t it?"

You had bristled at her disbelief but stood your ground. "It’s worth trying," you had insisted. "We don’t have to resort to violence right away."

She had sighed, shaking her head. "You’re too kind-hearted for your own good. This isn’t going to work, and you know it."

But despite her warnings, you had gone ahead with your plan.

When you returned to the camp later that evening, the night had already settled in, and the campfire cast long shadows around you. Shadowheart had been waiting, her eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of you. When she finally spotted you, she noticed immediately that something was off. You were walking stiffly, your movements careful, as if every step was a battle against pain. She stood up, crossing her arms as you approached.

"So," she began, her voice deceptively casual, "how did the plan go?"

You forced a smile, trying to keep your discomfort hidden. "It was fine," you lied, your voice a little too tight. "Better than expected, actually."

There was a long moment of silence between you, the crackling of the fire the only sound. Shadowheart watched you closely, her eyes narrowing as she took in your tense posture, the way you were holding yourself as if every movement caused you pain. She didn’t say anything at first, just let the silence stretch, waiting for you to crack.

Finally, unable to bear the weight of her gaze any longer, you sighed heavily.

"Alright," you muttered, dropping the pretense. "You were right. It didn’t go as planned."

A smirk tugged at the corners of Shadowheart’s lips, but she didn’t gloat. Instead, she stepped closer, her eyes softening slightly as she reached out to touch your arm.

"Are you hurt?" she asked, her tone more concerned now. "How bad is it?"

You winced as her fingers brushed against a particularly sore spot, and you nodded reluctantly.

"It’s not too bad," you said, trying to downplay it, though you knew she could see through your bravado. "But… I could use some help."

She sighed again, though this time it was more resigned than exasperated.

"I told you it was a bad idea," she said, her voice gentle as she began to examine you for injuries. "But you’re stubborn, I’ll give you that."

You couldn’t help but chuckle, though it quickly turned into a wince as she found a particularly tender spot on your side.

"I just wanted to find a better way," you said softly, meeting her gaze. "I didn’t want to hurt anyone."

Shadowheart’s expression softened, and she shook her head slightly as she tended to your wounds.

"I know," she murmured, her touch careful as she worked. "But sometimes, being too kind can be dangerous. You have to know when to stand your ground, and when to draw the line."

You nodded, the pain in your body a reminder of the lesson learned.

"I’ll keep that in mind," you said, your voice earnest. Once she finished patching you up, she looked at you with a mix of affection and exasperation.

"You’re lucky I’m here to take care of you," she teased, though there was a warmth in her eyes that made your heart swell. You smiled, reaching out to take her hand.

"I know," you replied, squeezing her hand gently. "And I’m grateful for it."

Shadowheart sighed, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips as she leaned in to kiss your forehead. "Just promise me you’ll be more careful next time," she whispered.

You nodded, the weight of the day’s events settling on your shoulders as you leaned into her embrace. "I promise."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

The two of you were huddled in your tent, poring over maps and discussing the best way to deal with the band of marauders terrorizing a nearby village. Gale had suggested a calculated approach—one that involved precise spells and strategic combat. But you had a different idea, one that made Gale pause, his brow furrowing in disbelief.

"Violence isn't the answer," you said, your voice filled with conviction as you traced a route on the map. "We can talk to them, convince them to leave peacefully. There’s no need for bloodshed."

Gale looked at you, his expression a mix of bewilderment and concern. "What’s your plan then?" he asked, his tone cautious as if he was preparing himself for something unexpected. "To defeat them with the power of friendship?" His eyes widened slightly as he realized you were serious. "Oh my gods… it is, isn’t it?"

You nodded confidently. "It’s worth a shot. If we can appeal to their humanity, show them there’s another way… it could work."

Gale leaned back, rubbing his temples as if trying to comprehend what he was hearing.

"You’re astounding, you know that? Only you could concoct a plan that defies all logic and yet believe in it with such unwavering faith." He shook his head, a mixture of admiration and exasperation in his eyes. "But go ahead, fearless one. Let’s see where your idealism takes us."

You smiled, grateful that despite his doubts, Gale was willing to let you try. So, with a heart full of hope, you set out to enact your plan.

The marauders were camped just outside the village, a rough and rugged group that looked every bit as dangerous as the villagers had described. But you approached them with open hands, speaking to their leader about peace, redemption, and the possibility of a better life.

For a moment, it seemed like they were listening. Their leader’s eyes softened as you spoke, and you felt a flicker of hope. But then, with a harsh laugh, he dismissed your words, and the marauders closed in, their intentions clear.

Your heart sank as you realized your plan had failed. They weren’t interested in peace; they wanted power, and they were willing to take it by force. You braced yourself for the worst, feeling a surge of regret for not heeding Gale’s warning.

But just as the marauders were about to strike, a brilliant light erupted around you. Gale had been watching from a distance, his keen intellect and protective nature unwilling to let you face the danger alone. With a few precise incantations, he unleashed a barrage of spells, weaving fire and force into a stunning display of magical prowess.

The marauders, caught off guard by the sudden onslaught, stumbled back in disarray. Gale’s magic surged through the camp, disarming and disabling the attackers with calculated precision. In moments, the threat was neutralized, and the surviving marauders fled into the night, too afraid to challenge the wizard who had effortlessly turned the tide.

Breathing heavily, you turned to find Gale standing a short distance away, his expression a mixture of relief and exasperation. He approached you, his eyes scanning for any signs of injury.

"Well," he said, his voice carrying a hint of smugness, "it seems my plan worked after all."

You sighed, feeling the weight of your failed attempt settle on your shoulders.

"I thought… maybe I could reach them," you admitted, your voice tinged with regret. Gale’s expression softened, and he placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Your heart is in the right place, my love," he said gently. "But not everyone is open to reason or redemption. Sometimes, you have to be prepared for when words fail."

You nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and humility. "You were right," you confessed, meeting his gaze. "Thank you… for stepping in."

Gale smiled, his eyes warm with affection. "It’s what I’m here for," he replied. "To keep you safe, even when you’re determined to save the world with kindness."

You couldn’t help but smile at his words, despite the lingering disappointment in your chest.

"I suppose I owe you one," you said, leaning in to rest your head against his shoulder. Gale chuckled softly, wrapping his arm around you.

"Just promise me you’ll listen next time," he teased, though his tone was gentle.

"I promise," you murmured, feeling the comfort of his presence and the steady beat of his heart. "I’ll be more careful."

Gale pressed a kiss to your forehead, his voice soft in your ear. "Good. Because I’d like to keep you around for a long time."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

As you stood by the campfire, pondering the best way to deal with the bandits who had been terrorizing the nearby village, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there had to be a better way than resorting to violence. The thought of bloodshed weighed heavily on your heart, and you were determined to find another solution.

Astarion, ever the cynic with a devilish smirk, noticed the troubled expression on your face and sauntered over, his gaze full of curiosity.

"Something on your mind, darling?" he asked, his tone light but laced with that familiar undertone of sarcasm. You hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and turned to face him.

"I don’t think violence is the answer here," you began, your voice resolute. "Maybe we can talk to them, convince them to leave the village alone. It doesn’t always have to end in bloodshed."

Astarion blinked, taken aback by your suggestion. He stared at you for a long moment before raising an eyebrow.

"What’s your plan then…?" he asked, his voice dripping with disbelief. "To defeat them with the power of friendship…? Oh my gods, it is, isn’t it?"

You nodded, your resolve unwavering despite his incredulity. "Yes," you replied firmly. "It’s worth trying. If we can avoid fighting, why not?"

Astarion’s eyes widened slightly, and he stared at you as if you had just suggested sprouting wings and flying to the moon.

"You’re serious," he said, half in disbelief, half in amusement. "You’re actually going to go through with this insane plan."

You crossed your arms, refusing to back down. "Yes, I am," you insisted. "There’s no harm in trying to talk things out first."

Astarion let out a long, exasperated sigh, running a hand through his silver hair. "Darling, I adore that bleeding heart of yours, but this plan of yours defies all logic. Bandits aren’t exactly the negotiating type."

You could see the concern in his eyes, masked by his usual sarcasm, but you were determined to stick to your principles.

"I have to try," you said softly. "If there’s even a chance…"

But Astarion wasn’t having it. He stepped closer to you, his expression turning from playful to serious.

"No," he said firmly, his hand gently but firmly grasping your arm. "This is madness. You can’t just walk into a bandit camp and expect them to listen to reason. You’re going to get yourself killed."

You looked up at him, surprised by the intensity in his gaze. "Astarion, I—"

"Enough," he interrupted, his voice firm. "I can’t let you do this. I love that heart of yours, but I would much prefer it to keep beating."

You tried to pull away, but Astarion held on tighter, his grip unyielding. "I’m not letting go until you come to your senses," he said, his voice softening just a fraction. "I’ve lost too much already, and I won’t lose you too."

His words struck a chord deep within you, and you could feel the fear and concern behind his usual teasing demeanor. A moment of silence passed between you, the tension thick in the air. Finally, you sighed, your shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Alright," you murmured, "maybe it was a foolish plan."

Astarion let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and pulled you into a tight embrace. "Thank the gods," he whispered into your hair, his voice full of relief. "You had me worried there."

You wrapped your arms around him, leaning into his embrace, feeling the warmth and comfort of his presence.

"I just wanted to find a way to avoid more violence," you said quietly.

"And I love you for that," Astarion replied, his voice gentle now. "But sometimes, a little pragmatism is necessary."

You nodded against his chest, feeling a wave of gratitude for his stubbornness, even if it had annoyed you at first.

"You’re right," you admitted. "I wasn’t thinking straight."

Astarion chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "You never do when it comes to your heart," he teased, though his tone was affectionate. "But that’s one of the things I love about you."

You pulled back slightly to look up at him, your eyes meeting his. "Thank you," you whispered, "for keeping me grounded."

He smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "Always, my love," he said, his voice full of warmth. "Always."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

I loved writing this and I hope you guys enjoyed it! - Seluney xox

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merthosus · 3 months ago

Note

Hi! Do you mind doing like an angsty fluff with Diego where you finally meet him again in the 60s at Elliot’s after he’s been stuck at the mental institution, but somethings off, he’s got someone else glued to his hip.

Meeting again

Summary: You were the last sibling, landing onto your feet, infront of a usual looking ally. The first thing, which came to your mind was finding the others, especially Diego. But little did you know, after finding him you wish you never did.

Thank you for your lovely request, even tho it broke my heart! Also, here a sexy poster from Five I fell in love with! With every purchase you automatically support me :) https://amzn.to/3yGK6Fm

“She’s… we’ve been through a lot together”

After getting brutally teleported into a different timeline, falling out of two meters onto hard concrete and getting cat-called by multiple old man on the streets, your day already was ruined. Thinking that it couldn't get any worse was understandable but at the same time so wrong. It got worse, it got incredibly worse.

You were on a hunt. `your prey?', you may ask. A six foot tall, handsome (you would never tell him that, his ego is big enough), and amazingly accurate knife throwing man. It was difficult to overlook him. You were kind of disappointed, that he didn't make you a trail out of knifes like in Hensel and Gretel. Something like that would have made it easier to find him. But as you knew him, everywhere he stepped a foot, he left a mark. Involuntary most times.

34 days later...

You’ve been searching for Diego for what feels like forever, a gnawing worry in your gut that only grew with each passing day. When you finally heard that he’d been taken to a mental institution after landing in the 60s, your heart dropped. The relief of knowing he was alive was quickly overshadowed by the fear of what he’d been through.

The day you finally walk into Elliot’s place, you spot him immediately. Your heart leaps at the sight of him—alive, whole, and so achingly familiar. But something’s off. He’s not alone. There’s a woman glued to his side, her hand resting on his arm as if it belongs there. She’s talking to him, and he’s smiling down at her, a softness in his eyes that you’ve only ever seen directed at you.

You freeze in the doorway, the world tilting on its axis. The Diego you know would have come running to you, would have swept you into his arms without a second thought. But this Diego just glances up, his eyes widening in surprise, then flicking back to the woman beside him. It’s like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless and disoriented.“Diego?” Your voice is small, uncertain, as if you’re not sure if this is really happening. His gaze finally locks onto yours, and for a moment, you see the Diego you know—the one who fought for you, who would do anything to keep you safe. But then he steps back, putting a small distance between the two of you, as if he’s unsure of how to bridge the gap that’s formed between you.

“Y/N,” he says, your name coming out in a breath, like he’s been holding it in this whole time. But his tone is guarded, almost hesitant, and it breaks your heart a little more. The woman at his side looks between the two of you, confusion and maybe a hint of understanding dawning on her face. You force yourself to smile, but it feels brittle. “It’s good to see you,” you say, even though every part of you is screaming that this isn’t right. That something has changed, something you don’t know if you can fix.

Diego glances at the woman beside him, then back at you. “This is Lila,” he introduces, and there’s something in the way he says her name that makes your stomach churn. “She’s… she helped me get out of the hospital.” “Helped?” The word comes out sharper than you intended, and you see Diego flinch. Lila doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe she just doesn’t care. She smiles at you, and it’s almost too easy, too friendly. “Yeah, helped,” Diego replies, his voice softer now, like he’s trying to ease you into something you’re not ready to hear. “She’s… we’ve been through a lot together.”

The unspoken words hang in the air between you, and you can feel your heart cracking just a little more with each passing second. “I’m glad you’re okay,” you manage to say, even though your voice trembles. Diego’s eyes soften, and for a brief moment, it’s just the two of you again, like it used to be. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says, and you know he means it, but there’s still that barrier between you, the one you’re not sure how to cross.

Lila touches his arm, and the moment shatters. “We should go,” she says, looking up at Diego, and he nods, though he looks back at you as if he wants to say something more. “Yeah,” he agrees, and the word feels like a goodbye. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

You nod, unable to trust your voice. You watch as they walk away, side by side, and it feels like your heart is being wrenched out of your chest. But just before they disappear, Diego glances back at you one last time, and in his eyes, you see it—the regret, the confusion, the love he’s trying so hard to push down. And you know, deep down, that this isn’t the end. But it doesn’t stop it from hurting like hell.

Alright I will go cry now but still thanks for the request :)

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months ago

Text

The Farmer's Daughter 15

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall

Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Walter sighs as he shuts the hood of the truck. He tuts and faces you, keeping his hand on the metal, his other going to his hip. He looks at you then the sky behind you. The rain has stirred the scent of mud and grass and left a glaze over everything.

“You’re lucky the thing didn’t blow up in your face,” he says. “Maybe the rain saved you.”

“Oh, I... didn’t know,” you utter nervously. “Timothy said it was fine--”

“Yeah, well, shows how much he knows,” Walter stands straight and pushes back his curls, “he’s not ready. He’s too young. I’ll make sure he learns. Be sad if he through away all your dad’s hard work, huh?”

“Y-yeah, I guess,” you swallow. His words remind you of the imbalance. You need him. That’s the reality that brought you all the way up here.

“Right, well, I’ll deal with it later. I got some chains I can use to get it up to the house but we should head into town then go see your mother. Make sure she isn’t worried sick,” he steps towards you and brings his hand up under your chin. You fight not to shy away, “what were you thinking? Putting yourself in danger like that?”

“I... I had to come see you--”

He smiles, “that’s sweet but I’d rather you wait and have you in one piece, sweetheart.”

You nod into his hand and wince as he leans in. His thumb rubs your chin as he tilts your head up and he presses his lips to yours. Your surprised by his gentleness, though his beard grazes your roughly. You let him kiss you as he swoops an arm around to wrap you up.

When he parts, your breathless and dizzy. His eyes gleam down at you, “wife,” he rasps out, “we’re almost there.”

The shift in his mood puts you off. It’s just like back in the kitchen, one moment he’s terse and short, almost disappointed, the next he’s almost delicate and content. He releases you and takes you by the hand. You follow him back up towards the house.

You wait outside as he runs in to get his keys. As he comes back out, you open the door of the truck and brace the interior. You put your foot on the small metal step to pull yourself up and gasp as you’re lifted from behind. Walter helps you into the seat and you wriggle free with a meek ‘thank you’.

He kisses your cheek before he shuts the door. You focus on buckling the belt as he rounds the front of the truck. He climbs into the driver’s side and turns the engine. He sets off, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the corner of your seat.

You sit quietly, watching the hills roll by. This is it. This is your life. You’re going to married and a wife and you’re going to be tied to this man and these lands forever. You never really thought it out, you just expected life to unfold before you.

He pulls up to the bank and turns into the lot. He steers into one of the angled spots and kills the engine. You tap your fingers on your legs before you regain your bearings. As he opens his door, you do the same. You get out, hopping down with a small oof. You catch yourself on the door.

Walt stomps around, “hey, hey, careful. Don’t hurt yourself.”

“I’m fine,” you smile, “really, I can manage.”

“I just don’t want you twisting your ankle,” he says.

“Um, okay, all good,” you show him your foot, “really.”

He stares at you. His cheek ticks. He takes your hand and shuts the passenger door. He tugs you away towards the front of the building. As you follow the sidewalk down to the entrance, you pass a few other curious pedestrians. You don’t miss there gazes and the low whispers between them.

You go inside and find the bank empty. Walter drags you to the counter and taps the bell on it. You stand on your toes to see over the high desk and see a head pop out of a back office. The woman looks unimpressed as she goes to bang on the door next to hers, “customers.”

She quickly retreats as you wait. The next door opens and another woman emerges. She’s taller than the other one, slimmer too. She struts over as she tugs straight the collar of her blouse. Her pretty pink lipstick clings to one lip as the other is faded to its natural hue.

“Hello, folks, how can I help you today.”

“I’d like to speak with an advisor about a mortgage,” Walter says as he lets go of your hand, instead hovering his large one along your lower back.

“That’s exciting,” she chimes, “you and... I didn’t know you married?”

“Not yet,” Walter exhales, “anyway, do you got someone available? I don’t really have time to sit around.”

“Sure, sure, Pete should be able to help you out. I’ll just take you to an office.”

The woman, Marska, comes around the desk and waves you down the hall. She takes you into an office and leaves you there. You and Walter lower yourself into the stiff chairs. He reaches between to offer his hand. You take it and nervously stare at the empty desk.

There’s a tap on the doorframe and a man enters. Pete. You’ve seen him before when you came to the bank with your mother.

“Morning,” he says as he swaggers around to sit behind the desk, “lovely to see you folks bright and early.” He offers his hand across the desk and Walter reluctantly lets go of yours to shake it. Pete looks at you and you hesitantly shake his hand. The man beside you shifts and huffs. “So, we’re looking into a mortgage, huh?”

The manager smiles as he leans back nonchalantly in his chair. He looks between you and Walter, “gone and snagged yourself a young one, huh, Marshall?”

Walter growls and crosses his arms, “I have a down payment.”

“Uh, yeah, of course,” Pete rolls his chair closer to the desk, “just making some small chat. Big news, the two of you.”

“Is it?” Walter challenges.

“Marriage is a big deal, isn’t it?” Peter chuckles nervously.

“You would know,” Walter sneers as he sniffs, “you got something on your cheek.”

You only notice at the mention of it. Your eyes retreat from the window to Pete’s face, the smear of pink along his cheek. You look away, embarrassed for him. It must be true what they say about him and Marska.

“Uh, thanks,” Pete wipes his face with his sleeve, “let’s just jump in then.” He puts his hands over the keyboard and clears his throat. You can see a trickle of sweat along his hairline as Walter’s disapproval burns through the small office.

#walter marshall #dark walter marshall #dark!walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #drabble #au #backwoods #series #the farmer's daughter #night hunter

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asahicore · 2 years ago

Text

how to get back at your ex - lhs (m)

this work contains smut - minors please do not interact

pairing. heeseung x fem!reader

synopsis. When you catch your boyfriend of four years cheating on you on the day of your anniversary, your first reflex is to get black-out drunk by yourself at a bar near your place. There, you run into your colleague and close friend Heeseung, and together, you come up with a plan to get back at Sunghoon for what he did. But as you carry out your pranks with Heeseung, you realize that maybe, what they say about love is true - sometimes, it is right there in front of you, patiently waiting for you to recognize to it.

genre. f2l, coworkers au, mainly fluff and smut but also some angst, heeseung is crazy about reader and sunghoon is the asshole cheating ex

word count. 19.9k

a/n. you’re probably thinking why the hell is there a cat pic between the 2 heeseungs… just read further and it’ll make sense 😇 hello everyone and welcome back to another repost from my old blog bc i currently have no time to write something new.. maybe next week will be the first fic of the 100 kisses event! but no promises 🥰 anyways i really enjoyed going over this again so i hope y’all like it and as always pls lmk what u think ok bye love ya

Park Sunghoon, that fucking bastard. You were going to kill him. If your hangover didn’t kill you first, that is.

You wake up with a pounding head and an unquenchable thirst, groaning at the awful sensations you knew you wouldn’t be able to get rid of for the whole day. But worse than the dry mouth and the ringing in your ears, you had a broken heart, and to your disappointment, the alcohol hadn’t managed to glue it back together. If anything, it had only deepened the cracks and made you drown in self-pity. You felt terrible physically but you also felt sorry for yourself: what had made you think drinking four bottles of soju to yourself and probably double as many cans of beer would help you get over your asshole of a now ex-boyfriend Park Sunghoon?

You manage to sit up on your bed, eyes half-open from the bright sunlight that your thin curtains failed to keep from entering the room. You realize you’re completely naked, which doesn’t surprise you as you have a habit of completely undressing and collapsing in bed after a night out, never bothered enough to put on some pajamas or take your makeup off. Your room looks the same as always, but there’s a scent in your bed which you can’t quite put your finger on. It’s familiar, yet it feels odd, smelling it here. You turn your head towards your bedside table and notice a watch that clearly isn’t yours lying there. You pick it up and examine it more closely: you’ve definitely seen it before, but on who?

The small clockarms of the watch let you know it’s 7:46 a.m. - you have no time to give any more thought to who might be the owner of this watch. You scramble out of bed, not wanting to be any more late for work than you already are. As you wash your face and brush your teeth, you curse yourself for drinking yourself into oblivion on a Tuesday, of all nights. Now you were going to have to face the whole office with one of the worst hangovers you’d ever had in your seven years of legal drinking.

As you enter the office and walk to your desk, you feel your colleagues’ stares and pitiful looks. You check the time on your phone: you weren’t late, had somehow gotten lucky enough to arrive at 8:30 on the dot, so why were they looking at you like that? Was it the sunglasses? You’d worn them in hopes of hiding your tired, puffy eyes, but they were probably just making you more noticeable.

You sit down at your desk and hold your head in your hands for a few seconds, catching your breath from having run all the way from the bus stop to your office building, and mentally preparing yourself for the day ahead. When you raise your head, two of your colleagues are standing next to you, looking at you with sympathy in their eyes. Your eyebrows perk at the sight of them, and you’re wary of what they might be about to say.

One of them, Miyeon, sighs, and starts speaking first. “Y/N…” she sighs again. “We just wanted to let you know that we’re here for you. We’ve heard about… you know,” she says. You slowly nod and turn your head away from them. The realization that everyone knows about your breakup with Sunghoon hits you, and no matter how nice your coworkers are, right now, you just want to get as far away from them and their unwelcome pity as possible.

“What he did,” the other one, Yuqi, picks up, “is really terrible. You know how rumors travel fast here, and, well, we’ve all decided we wouldn’t talk to him unless it was work-related,” she says, and you try not to scoff. As if work wasn’t the only thing they talked to him about anyway. Still, you know it’s coming from a good place, so you muster a smile and thank them, saying you appreciate it. You hope they’re done and will leave, but they hover around your desk, so you turn your gaze back to them with a questioning look.

Miyeon puts her hand on your shoulder. “You know… this happened to me too, a few years back. I know how shit it feels, to have someone you love and you thought loved you cheat on you. If you ever need anything, I’m here,” she says, and you give her a small but genuine smile this time.

“Yeah, anything,” Yuqi chimes. “Whether you wanna talk about it, or get drunk,” and you try not to visibly cringe at the idea of alcohol, “or punch him, just call Miyeon or me. Or both of us. We’re menaces together,” she says, and the three of you laugh.

“Thanks, guys. I’m glad you’re here.”

As you watch them head back to their respective desks, you feel somebody else staring at you. When you meet eyes with Heeseung, his face perks up and he gives you a shy wave. You’ve known Heeseung for ages, having joined the company as interns and getting promoted to full-time employees at around the same time. You’ve seen that face and that smile almost everyday for the past four years now, yet today it feels different. He’s never waved shyly at you, as if he was excited yet embarrassed to see you. You don’t mean to frown at him, but you’re so confused about the sudden change in how you see him that you can’t help it. His hand drops and he awkwardly turns his gaze back to his computer. You keep staring at him, trying to recall something that might explain this shift in his behavior. It was fine yesterday at the office… Could it have happened after work?

You try to go through the events of the previous day one-by-one in your head. Wanting to prepare something special for your four-year anniversary with Sunghoon, you’d gotten off work a bit early, a skip in your step. But when you came face-to-face with him kissing another woman in one of the stairwells, you halted straight in your tracks. You’d just stared at each other for thirty seconds, one surprised they’d been caught, the other trying to figure out whether their eyes were deceiving them or not. Sure, your relationship with Sunghoon wasn’t always perfect, but you hadn’t thought it was so bad he’d need to go stuff his tongue down somebody’s else throat - and that at your shared workplace, too. It’s like he wasn’t even trying to hide it, like he wanted you to find out. The embarrassment and humiliation were almost worst than the pain and betrayal.

“Y/N…” he started, making you snap out of it and realize that yes, this was your boyfriend of four years you had just seen kissing another woman. You took a step back as he moved towards you, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Y/N,” he repeats, “I’m- Listen, this isn’t- Let me just explain-” he scrambled for an excuse, but nothing came out. There was no justification for this.

“Save it, Sunghoon,” you spat. “Whatever you have to say for yourself, I don’t wanna hear it.” You continued past him down the stairwell, ignoring his pleas for you to stay and hear him out.

“Y/N, please, just give me a minute to-”

“No, Sunghoon!” you almost screamed out, turning around to face him. “You can go fuck yourself.” You hadn’t let yourself cry in front of him, not wanting to appear more pitiful than you already felt. As soon as you got in your car, you burst into tears, gripping the steering wheel as you sobbed like a baby.

You shake your head at the fresh and painful memory, not wanting to dwell on it any further. You’ll probably feel like shit for the upcoming weeks or months, so you’ll have plenty of time to rehash the painful memory later on.

After that, everything is a bit of a blur. You remember managing to get yourself home without crashing your car despite your tear-induced fuzzy vision, then throwing your bag and coat somewhere on the floor and immediately opening a bottle of wine, gulping most of it down in a pathetically short amount of time. And that’s about it.

The overwhelming emotions you were feeling along with the fact that you hadn’t eaten anything since lunch that day made the alcohol go straight to your head, and you were drunk very quickly. Foggy bits of your night flash in your mind: picking up your stuff and heading out, sitting at the counter at the nearby bar, chatting animatedly with someone else. The memories are hazy and nothing is coming back to you precisely, no matter how hard you try to focus.

You realize you had been frowning at Heeseung the whole time you were recalling the evening’s events. He looks up at you and returns your frown, seemingly upset at the look you were giving him. You suddenly see his face in your mind, except the Heeseung you picture then is different from the one you see everyday. He’s still in his work clothes, but the tie has been discarded and the top buttons have been opened. He’s smiling lopsidedly at you, as if he too has a few drinks in his system.

That’s when it hits you: you were with Heeseung yesterday night. Your frown turns into a suspicious gaze, which he imitates, tilting his head to the side as he peers at you. You text him to meet you in the break room in five, hoping he could fill in the blanks. You desperately needed a coffee anyway.

In the break room, you gulp down a bottle of water while you wait for the coffee to be ready. Heeseung struts in a minute later, a smirk you’ve never seen before on his face. He’s heading straight towards you, and your eyes widen when he doesn’t stop at an appropriate distance from you, just keeps walking until he’s towering over you. He’s definitely acting weird today.

“Miss me already?” he says as he leans in close to you, making the small of your back hit the counter behind you. The sudden proximity with your friend makes your eyes go even wider. He’d never been so close before and you could smell his cologne on him, an oddly familiar scent.

“W-what?” you stutter out. Registering your confused face, Heeseung takes a quick step back and starts fiddling with his thumbs, avoiding your gaze. His demeanor is a total 180 from the one just a second ago, and the change gives you whiplash.

“Sorry, I just- I thought since last night, you know, you would maybe want me to, I don’t know- I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me…” he trips over his words, still not looking at you. You open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out, trying to make sense of the situation. You look down at his nervous hands and notice he’s not wearing the watch he usually has on everyday.

The watch, his scent, his strange awkward yet flirty behavior, the fact that you’d remembered seeing him last night… Everything is starting to piece together. You gesture between the two of you. “Last night… did we…?” you ask tentatively, hoping he’d get the message.

He looks up at you. “Do you not- do you not remember?” he says, disappointment in his voice.

You cover your mouth with both of your hands as you gasp in shock. How could you have hooked up with your friend and colleague of five years and not even remember it?

Heeseung’s head drops and he lets out a dejected scoff. “Guess you don’t.”

You take a step towards him as you raise your hands, trying to defend yourself. “No, no, I do, a little bit. It’s just all… very fuzzy,” you say, hoping it’ll make things a bit better. You clear your throat. “Could you, um, tell me what happened exactly last night? Might help me fill in the gaps.” You smile at him but he doesn’t return it; he just sighs.

“Sure,” he says, and you breathe out a sigh of relief. “You know Jake and Jay?” he asks, and you nod. You’d met Heeseung’s friends at a few parties he’d hosted. “Well, we were out drinking last night ‘cause Jay got promoted. When we got to this bar, I saw you drinking by yourself at the counter so I invited you to come and sit with us, and you said yes. You looked really upset, but you got so excited as soon as you saw us.”

A scene suddenly flashes in your mind. You were losing yourself in your thoughts as you sat alone at the bar, two empty bottles of soju in front of you. Your head that had been resting in your palm was about to slip and hit the counter when you felt a hand clasp your shoulder.

“Y/N!” a familiar voice shouted excitedly, and you turned your head to find Heeseung grinning at you. The sight of him brought an immediate smile to your face, and you got up to engulf him in a hug.

“Hey!” he called out again, and you said ‘hey’ back, your voice muffled from having your face buried in his neck. Had he always smelled this good?

You took a step back and greeted Jay and Jake, who waved back at you, smiling. “What are you doing here all alone?” Heeseung asked, and the alcohol stopped you from coming up with a lie.

“Sunghoon cheated on me,” you answered, pouting. Now that you weren’t sitting and didn’t have Heeseung to lean on, you were swaying a bit. The three boys looked between each other with shocked expressions on their faces, not expecting this to be the reason you were solo-drinking.

Jay and Jake looked at you with sad smiles, saying they were sorry you had to go through that. Heeseung, on the other hand, looked angry. A deep frown made his eyebrows crease as he shook his head. “What an asshole! He has no idea what he just lost,” he exclaimed. Then, putting his arm around you and leading you to another table, he added, “Let’s go, Y/N! Come and drink with us.”

You look at Heeseung standing in front of you in the break room and nod slowly. “Okay, I remember that. Then what?”

“Then we just talked and drank. Jay and Jake left around midnight, but we stayed until the bar closed. I don’t remember myself that well what we talked about, but we definitely talked about Sunghoon, that jerk.”

You cringe at the mention of your ex. “God,” you sigh, “I hope I didn’t cry or wallow or something embarrassing like that.”

“Nothing like that,” Heeseung says, a smile teasing his lips. “If anything, you were cursing his name. You told me about all the shit he did that annoyed you, like how he would always forget to buy the milk or how he got overly mad at you for putting the pots back in the wrong cupboard. You were absolutely enraged. And so was I, to be honest. Look,” he says, pulling out his phone, “we made a list of ways to get back at him.”

He hands you his phone, the Notes app open. You read it out loud.

“How to get back at Y/N’s ex, He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. Disclaimer: none of this can back-fire against Y/N, so they must be small things that will mess up his everyday life but can’t be traced back to her, i.e. no keying his car or TPing his place, as satisfying as those things would be.”

You let out a chuckle. “We really thought this through, didn’t we?”

Heeseung laughs as well. “Yeah, I’m not sure how we did that considering how drunk we were.”

You start reading the list, all of its boxes left unticked. “Go into his office and mess up his paperwork. Buy a bunch of keys on Amazon, write his phone number on them and lose them all over town. Change the labels on his shower products and hide his TV remote when Y/N hands him back his stuff. Make him regret what he did.”

You look up at Heeseung. “These are pretty good ideas, actually. He always needs everything to be super organized, so he would definitely freak out at some of these. And the keys one would just make anyone go insane,” you say with a chuckle.

Heeseung smiles at you. “I know we were drunk when we made this list, but I promised you I would help you get revenge on him. So, if you still want to do it, I’m down. I can’t lie, I really want to see him suffer the consequences for what he did.” You stare at Heeseung for a bit, grateful that he’s willing to help but perplexed as to why he would do it. What would he get from getting back at Sunghoon?

He watches as you stare at him, the left corner of his mouth lifting into a small smirk. The action is simple, but it makes your stomach flip. You blame it on the hangover.

“Let’s do it,” you say, trying to make the tension in the air dissipate. “Let’s make his life hell. For a short while at least. Just until I feel better.”

“Yeah?” Heeseung asks, raising his eyebrows in an amused manner.

“Yeah.” You guys high-five, laughing at the childishness of your plan.

His eyes don’t leave yours for a second and you don't think Heeseung’s ever held eye contact with you for such a long time - the way it makes you feel is too unfamiliar and you have to look away. After a small pause, you timidly ask, “By the way, did we- last night, did we actually, you know…”

“We didn’t,” he says, making you look up at him. “We almost did, but we were both so drunk that we kinda just… fell asleep mid-way.” You slowly nod your head, memories slowly coming back to you for what feels like the hundredth time today. “We made out. Naked. But we didn’t actually have sex,” he finishes, finally averting his gaze from yours.

You remember kissing Heeseung in front of the bar and then running with him to your building, laughing like teenagers, and heatedly making out in the elevator all the way to your apartment, then to your bedroom. You remember bursting into fits of laughter every now and then, the both of you so drunk that you couldn’t take what you were doing seriously. Everything made you laugh: the lipstick stain on his lips because of you, your mismatched underwear, how either of you could barely walk straight and fell on top of each other on your bed. You remember falling asleep, your face buried in the crook of his neck, both of his arms protectively wrapped around your waist.

“How come you weren’t there when I woke up?” you suddenly ask, remembering your empty bed that morning.

“I woke up really early, but you were sleeping so peacefully, I didn’t want to wake you up. I would’ve left a note but I couldn’t find a pen anywhere, so I just… left. Sorry about that,” he apologizes, his hand coming up to the nape of his neck.

“That’s alright,” you say, but you couldn’t help wondering what it would’ve felt like to wake up next to Heeseung. Probably better than what you woke up to this morning, you think.

You’re about to say something when you hear the door open, and Heeseung’s piercing gaze towards the person who just entered tells who it is before you’d even seen him. You turn around to find Sunghoon staring right at you, his eyes already pleading with you.

“Y/N,” he starts, but you cut him off immediately.

“I’ve already told you I don’t want to hear it, Sunghoon. You can save your breath.”

“Can you at least let me apologize, please?” he asks. You look at him, and you’d be lying if you said this didn’t hurt like a thousand little papercuts. You hadn’t let yourself feel anything since last night, preemptively drowning your emotions in alcohol. Now that your ex stands in front of you, trying to apologize, his betrayal and the end of your relationship hits you like a ton of bricks. And it doesn’t feel very nice.

“Did you not hear her? She said she doesn’t wanna hear it,” Heeseung steps in, but you take his wrist, not wanting the two of them to get into a fight at the office. Heeseung and Sunghoon had never liked each other, your friend deeming Sunghoon wasn’t good enough for you, and your boyfriend judging Heeseung and you were too close for friends.

“It’s alright, Heeseung. Just go back to work, I’ll see you later.” He stares at Sunghoon for another second and turns to you, clearly not wanting to leave you alone with him. You mouth a ‘please’, and he reluctantly walks away. Before he can leave the room, though, he turns back around and says, “Oh, by the way, I think I left my watch at your place. Could you give it to me tomorrow?”

You pivot towards him with wide eyes, cursing him for mentioning it in front of Sunghoon, but he’s not even looking at you. He’s staring right at your ex-boyfriend, clearly having said this just to rile him up. You stutter out a ‘yes’ and Sunghoon starts towards him but you stop him before he can get to Heeseung. The latter finally leaves, a victorious smirk on his face.

Sunghoon’s eyes, who were apologetic just a minute ago, are now burning with anger. “What the hell, Y/N?! Is this your way of getting back at me or something? Getting into bed with the first guy who throws himself at you?”

You glare at Sunghoon, in absolute disbelief at his words. You want to scream, pull out his hair, kick him in the shins, but above all that, you want him to apologize - even though you have no intention of accepting his apology whatsoever. So you close your eyes, breathe out through your nose, and say, “I thought you were here to apologize, Sunghoon.” You open your eyes to see him still visibly angry but trying to stay calm like you. When he doesn’t say anything for a few moments, you add, “For your information, Heeseung and I did not have sex. And even if we did, you lost the right to get mad at me when you slept with somebody else while in a relationship with me. Just say you’re sorry, and leave me the hell alone.”

Sunghoon looks at you, appearing somewhat baffled by how calmly you’re taking things. You were usually sensitive and reacted emotionally and your serenity was throwing him off. He had always been the cool and collected one in your relationship, not you. He doesn’t like this sudden shift in your attitude, and he doesn’t like the fact that Heeseung thinks he can have you now. “You know what? I was going to apologize, because I know what I did was wrong, but I don’t want to anymore. I guess Heeseung was glad you were rid of me so he could finally fuck you, huh?” You flinched at his loud voice and prayed no one else could hear your conversation.

“I just told you we didn’t have sex!” you whisper-shout back. Thankfully, he takes on the same volume as you.

“Then why is his fucking watch at your place?”

“That’s none of your fucking business anymore!”

Sunghoon and you just stare at each other for a few moments, and you fight back the tears pooling in your eyes. You’ve cried a hundred times in front of Sunghoon, and you want him to feel bad for how much he hurt you, but for some reason, it feels like crying in front of him would be giving in. It would be saying, You wanted to hurt me and you did. You wanted me to hate you and now I do.

“Just leave, Sunghoon, please,” you say, voice weak. It takes all you have not to fall to your knees and bawl your eyes out in this break room. Sunghoon calls out your name, and his voice is much softer than it was seconds ago, as if he finally realised just how much he’d fucked up.

You look up at him and a single tear rolls down your cheek. “Please, Sunghoon. Leave.” He opens his mouth and closes it again twice, lost as to what to say anymore. Finally, he just leaves silently, and you’re immensely disappointed but not in the least surprised. You’d always fought for your relationship, fixed things when they had gone wrong, apologized first after a fight even when it wasn’t your fault, and Sunghoonhad never returned your commitment more than half-heartedly. You’d foolishly hoped that maybe, this time, after such a big mess, he’d want to make things better.

You watch him walk away, taking a moment to gather yourself in the break room. When you finally muster the courage to leave the room and go back to your desk, you almost walk past Heeseung who had been waiting right outside the room this entire time. A worried look in his eyes, he asks if you’re okay.

“Let’s ruin this asshole’s life,” you say, and Heeseung grins at you.

—

That day at lunch, you and Heeseung start scheming. Hunched over your pasta salad, you discuss the first step of your evil plan, namely, ‘go into his office and mess up his paperwork.’

“Easy. We sneak in there when everybody’s left, and we fuck his shit up,” Heeseung says, stealing some of your lunch.

“What if somebody is working late?” you ask, nudging his fork away with your own.

“Well we’re not gonna barge in there. We’ll check that the room is empty.”

You hum. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

Heeseung looks up at you, registering your hesitant expression. “What? Already deflating?” he asks, a grin on his face. “C’mon, Y/N. It’ll be harmless fun… mainly.”

You meet his eyes and let yourself be convinced again. You lean in a bit closer, and he mirrors your action. “If we do this, we have to be subtle about it. We can’t just throw his papers all over the place, that’ll be too obvious and he’ll probably figure out I did it.” Heeseung nods his head, urging you to go on. “We need to put some files in the wrong folders, hide his color-coded post-its, exchange the lids on his pens, that kind of stuff. It’ll make him go crazy.” You bite down on your lip, trying to suppress your excited grin, but you can’t help it. All these years, you’d been subjected to Sunghoon’s obsession with having things neat and in order, no matter how tedious it was. The idea of him freaking out over a stapler in the bottom drawer instead of the top one brings a smile to your face, even though you know how petty such a prank was.

Some colleagues join you at the table, and you spend the rest of lunch chatting about work and making small talk. All throughout the afternoon, Heeseung and you exchange sneaky glances and giggle at the eye contact, both filled with childish excitement for your evening plans.

Eventually, your colleagues start trickling out, and by 7 p.m., only you and Heeseung are left. He joins you at your desk and tries to distract you from your work for half an hour, making stupid jokes and pointing at non-existent faults in your files. You think he must be starting to be bored out of his mind when he starts humming to ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go’, so you pack away your stuff, shut your computer and announce it is time for the prank. He jumps up from his seat with a huge grin, shouting out, ‘Let’s go!’ before marching out of the office. You watch him go with an endeared smile, shaking your head at his antics.

You walk side by side towards Sunghoon’s office, looking around to make sure you don’t walk past anyone on your way there. The whole floor seems to be empty, and you get there without being noticed. You enter his office, the both of you tip-toeing to Sunghoon’s desk for dramatic effect, but quickly burst into a fit of giggles when you realize how stupid you must look. Lucky for you, everybody’s already left: every seat is empty and the lights are off, the whole office basking in the glow of the moon.

Heeseung lets out a low whistle upon seeing Sunghoon’s desk. As you’d described, it is very neatly arranged, to a point that it seems almost obsessive. Every load of paper is stacked so perfectly into place that if you peered at it from above it would look like there was only one sheet of paper, each pencil has been freshly sharpened, and he’s got three to-do lists (a daily one, a weekly one and a monthly one) on color-coded post-its. There isn’t a thing out of place.

“God, was he as much of a control freak in your relationship as he is at work?” Heeseung muses, peering in horror at your ex’s desk.

You can’t help but laugh at the comment, even though the truth behind it almost makes you wince. “Yeah, he kinda was. He would decide on every little thing we did, whether it was what we ate that night or how I should organize the cutlery drawer in my apartment.”

Without missing a beat, he deadpans, “How could he. Everyone knows you should never mess with someone’s cutlery drawer.”

You look at each other for a second, and you weren’t sure whether he was being serious or not; but when you see a small smile appearing on his face, the both of you dissolve into laughter at his stupid joke. Maybe the adrenaline of what you’re doing is also part of the reason why it takes you a few moments to calm down, but when you do, it hits you that you haven't laughed so much in a long time. Heeseung and you have been good friends for a while, and you’ve always known he was funny; but spending more time with him makes you realize just how giggly he makes you.

The realization fills your heart with warmth but you don’t want him to notice the growing blush on your cheeks, so you turn towards the desk, pretending to analyze its contents some more. You take a long look at it and decide where you should start.

You pick up the sheet of paper at the top of the neat stack on the desk and place it randomly somewhere in the pile. Heeseung snorts at the seemingly insignificant action and you can’t help but think it’s ridiculous as well, but you know it’ll strike a nerve in Sunghoon.

He joins you closer to the desk and starts picking up random objects only to move them by an inch or placing them in one of the drawers. You do all the things you said you would: exchange the pen lids so that he’d take a red pen thinking it was a black one, stick his post-its underneath the desk like schoolkids do with used chewing-gums, and slightly mess up his files. Neither of you can stop laughing at how ridiculous you’re both being; you thought you had this great idea for a prank, but here you are, hiding a pencil sharpener. When Heeseung simply flips over Sunghoon’s pencils so that they are eraser-up rather than tip-up, you hit your limit of stupid things you could do. You burst out laughing, bent over and clutching your stomach. Heeseung can’t help but follow you in your laughter, loving how much you’re enjoying this prank.

You’re barely catching your breath when you see the light from a flashlight appear at the door and you hurriedly grab Heeseung’s wrists, bringing him down with you to hide underneath the desk. You hear footsteps approaching, soon followed by a booming voice: “Hello? Is anyone here?”

It’s the security guard - either he’s doing his regular night rounds, or he’s heard the ruckus you and Heeseung are causing. You hear him mutter something under his breath, but quickly enough, he walks away. When you hear the door close behind him, you release a breath you’d been holding for way too long, and the feeling of your nervousness dissipating all at once makes you let out a laugh. You meet Heeseung’s eyes only to find him staring back at you with wide eyes, and that’s when the reality of the position you’re currently in hits you.

You’ve still got a tight grasp on his wrists and you’re holding them up to your chest, so that the two of you are sitting face-to-face, crammed close together under the desk. You realize just how close he is when he releases a shaky breath and you can feel it fan on your lips. Your heart starts to pound at the proximity, and with how close he is you’re scared he might hear it. His eyes drift down to your lips and you feel panic bubbling inside of you: what if he actually tried to kiss you?

You hastily release his wrists and try to get up from under the desk, but you’re so distraught that your head hits it, making you yelp out in pain.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” Heeseung asks, emergency in his tone, and he immediately wraps his arms around your shoulders to stabilize you.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, it was just a small whack,” you say, even though you feel a bit dizzy, which you prefer to think is because you hit your head rather than because of Heeseung’s gaze mere moments ago.

“That sounded like more than a small whack. C’mon, let’s go get something cold for that, you’ll get a bump on your head otherwise.” He gets up and extends his hand out to you to help you do the same, and you stupidly stare at it for a few seconds before finally taking it. He guides you to the elevator, and there he lets go of your hand to put an arm around you. You don’t have the heart to tell him you can stand up on your own. You garner a few weird looks from the security staff as you leave the office building, but ignore them and hurriedly walk to the convenience store across the street.

“Sit down here, I’ll go get something for your head.” He sits you down on the little stairs in front of the store and puts his jacket over your shoulders, heading inside before you can protest. He’s back in less than five minutes, a pack of frozen peas and two ice cream cones in his hand.

“I saw these next to the peas and I couldn’t help myself,” he says with a sheepish smile. “Chocolate or vanilla?”

He was holding up the two cones in front of his face, waiting for you to choose. Your heart skips a beat at the simple but sweet gesture; when buying food, Sunghoon would never ask for your preferences, assuming you’d want the same as him.

You take the frozen peas and the vanilla ice cream, thanking him in a small voice. The cold of the peas immediately appeases the pain and the ice cream tastes sweeter than usual. The two of you sit in silence for a while, occasionally humming and swinging in rhythm to the music playing in the convenience store. In this moment, you feel oddly peaceful.

From your side view, you notice Heeseung turning his head to look at you. You mirror his action and find an amused glint in his eyes. “Are you satisfied with our work?” he asks.

You look ahead of you, thinking for a small moment. The adrenaline of doing the prank has worn off, and you try to see how you feel now that it’s over. “Yeah. I think I am,” you say, turning to look at him again. You’re no stranger to Heeseung’s features: you’ve seen him almost everyday for the past four years of your life. When you close your eyes, you can easily picture his face, his eyes, his smile in your mind. Not that you’ve made particular notes of his habits, but you know how his eyes crease at the corners when he laughs really hard and how he seems to unconsciously raise one of his eyebrows when he talks about something he’s interested in.

But tonight, he looks different. You don’t know if it’s because of the way he’s looking at you or if it’s how the LED lights of the store sign are hitting him perfectly, making him look like he comes straight from a rom-com, but somehow, right now, you’re not looking at your colleague Heeseung. You’re looking at your friend Heeseung, the one who agreed to help you get revenge on your ex, the one who got you a pack of frozen peas for your insignificant injury, the one who shivered at your touch and looked at your lips not fifteen minutes ago. You find yourself wondering what it would’ve been like if he’d actually leaned in to kiss you. Would his lips be as soft as they look?

You shake your head, trying to rid your mind of such thoughts: your break-up was not even a week ago and you were in no state to get back into a relationship so quickly. It wouldn’t end well for either of you. So you turned away from him, escaping his gaze that made you feel too many things you didn’t have the strength to understand.

Heeseung nudges your shoulder with his. “I hope it makes you feel better knowing that he’ll get to the office with an unorganized desk tomorrow morning.”

You chuckle, but the mention of Sunghoon still makes your heart sting. Nothing you do will ever be enough to hurt him like he hurt you, but you don’t see much point trying to do that, anyway. Making his life a bit worse for a while will have to do. “It does,” you simply say, not wanting to dive into complicated emotional territory. You were thankful enough that Heeseung had helped you out tonight, you didn’t want to put your baggage on his shoulders as well.

When you’re both done with your ice creams and your head feels better, you decide to call it a night and head to the building parking lot together. Your cars aren’t parked on the same level, but Heeseung insists on walking you to yours first. You hug him goodbye, and you intend it to be a short hug, but he snakes his arms around your waist, bringing you close to him. You’re a bit taken aback at first, but his scent is comforting and you wrap your arms around his neck, grateful for the warm hug.

“Thanks for tonight, Heeseung. Really,” you say, voice a bit muffled from having your face buried in his shoulder.

“Of course, Y/N, anytime.” You don’t really want to pull away, but you also don’t want things to get awkward if the hug lasts too long, so you lean back, hiding your disappointment at the loss of warmth. You fumble around your bag for your keys and hold them up with an embarrassed chuckle when you finally find them. Heeseung is looking at you with a sweet smile and you curse your damn heart for pounding so foolishly, body and brain at odds with each other. With a last quick ‘bye’, you get into your car, wave him goodbye, and drive away, releasing a shaky breath.

You see Heeseung in your rearview mirror, hands in his pockets, looking at his feet as he kicks a pebble on the ground, and you think you even see a grin on his face.

You smile the whole way home.

—

Heeseung pours himself a cold, well-deserved beer as soon as he gets home. He flops down on an armchair in his living room, not even bothering to turn the lights on; the faint glow of the streetlights outside will have to suffice. He unbuttons the top of his shirt and undoes his belt, getting himself more comfortable.

You haven’t been off his mind for a second since you parted ways half an hour ago. To be fair, you haven’t been off his mind much since you too met way back when. He can still picture you, four years ago, as a fellow fresh intern, your curious eyes and polite manners he’d found so endearing. The both of you were often tasked to work on projects together, and he’d admired your drive, hard work and attention to detail since the beginning. But then he’d started to notice other things than your professionalism, like how you’d frown when you really liked the food you were eating or how your lips would form a straight line when you tried to not laugh at his stupid jokes. He’d quickly started to make those jokes just in hopes of seeing your cute attempt at hiding a smile or, even better, hearing your laugh. He’d ignored the swelling in his heart and the sweat in his palms every time he saw you as long as he could, until he realized he shouldn’t have ignored them. He’d convinced himself he wasn’t jealous of the way your whole face perked up whenever Sunghoon entered the room, but when you told him you were officially dating that asshole, and how completely smitten with him you looked, he couldn’t deny it anymore. Heeseung had the stupidest, fattest, most unachievable crush on you.

He’d had to see you experience your highest highs and your lowest lows with Sunghoon, even though he knew you always tried to keep your relationship problems at home and not bring them in the office. He’d tried to be as good a friend as he could, never letting onto his feelings for you. If he couldn’t have you the way he wanted, he’d settle for being what you wanted him to be.

When he found out what Sunghoon had done, he was angry beyond words. He wanted to punch that jerk, but more than that, he wanted to make you feel better. So that night, he let you drink as much as you needed, he made you laugh as hard as he could, he agreed to your revenge plan, and when, outside of the bar, you drunkenly pressed your lips to his, he let you. He let you take him home, and take off his shirt, and he’d be lying if he said he was only doing it for you; he has dreamt of your hands on him for the longest time now, but he didn’t want for it to happen like this. So he easily got you to stop and fall asleep before you could do anything you’d regret the next morning.

When he woke up next to you, he felt his heart longing for something that is so close and yet so far out of reach. He softly tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear, making you whimper in your sleep, and it took everything in him not to hold you in his arms as hard as he could right there and then. But he didn’t want to wake you up, and he didn’t think he wanted to be there when you woke up either; he wouldn't know what to say, how to explain his presence. He wanted a few hours to think and talk to you in the office later.

We all know what happened after that.

Now, he doesn’t know whether he’s inching towards his goal or he’s fucked everything up. He can tell you’re behaving differently around him; he’s noted everything about you, so of course he’d notice as soon as something changes with you. He hoped it wasn't creepy that he complimented your haircuts every time you got one without you telling him first.

He thought everything between you might have been ruined when you banged your head on the desk in shock when he looked at your lips, but your little moment in front of the convenience store and in the parking lot made him hopeful that your friendship might shift into something more. He knows you’ve too recently broken up with Sunghoon to be ready for a new relationship, and he’s waited four years, so he can wait a few months more; but he also wants to make sure you won’t go anywhere else now that he has a chance. He doesn’t think he could forgive himself if he let you go again.

—

The next day at work, you hear gossip going around the office about an apparent ‘tantrum’ that Sunghoon threw upon arriving at his desk. He was going on and on about his post-its being gone, his pens and pencils being all messed up and his files being disorganized. Everybody thought he was crazy, though, because his desk looked just as neat as usual. You and Heeseung exchange a knowing look, and you’re quite proud that it had the effect you had hoped for.

You don’t talk about doing another prank until the next Friday; you do want to do another one, but you think it’s best to not have them too close together, and you’re not sure if Heeseung wants to help you with it. You make a note to mention it to him after the weekend.

As you’re about to leave work, Miyeon and Yuqi enthusiastically step towards you, wide grins on their faces. “Y/N!” Yuqi calls out, making you stop in your tracks.

“Hey, guys! What’s up?” you said, sensing what was coming. They exchange a look before looking back at you.

“Come get drinks with us, please!” Miyeon says, and before you can protest, she adds, “we know you’ve had a tough week, but we think it’d be a good idea for you to get your mind off of things!”

You smile a bit sadly at them, genuinely appreciating their concern but wanting to spend a nice, quiet evening alone.

“No. Nope, don’t give us that look, it means you want to say no,” Yuqi scolds.

You sigh and say, “I’m really sorry, guys. Thank you so much for the offer, and I promise we’ll go out together soon, but I don’t think I can tonight.”

They sigh as well and take turns hugging you, Miyeon saying, “That’s alright, we did expect it a bit.” They start walking out of the office, but not without Miyeon pointing at you with her finger, adding, “But you better keep that promise!”

“I will!” you reply, watching them leave with a smile. You follow soon after and drive back home, looking forward to a tranquil night in.

And it is, until you hear a knock on your front door around 8 p.m. You haven’t ordered any takeout, so who could it be? You’re only wearing a tiny tank top and pair of shorts, so you quickly grab a sweatshirt to cover your figure and open the door. Heeseung is standing there, holding up an Amazon delivery packet in one hand and a bottle of white wine in the other.

“Evening!” he beams down at you.

“H-heeseung? What are you doing here?” you ask, stepping to the side so he can come in.

He hands you his things as he enters, then takes off his shoes and jacket. “Well, I overheard at the office earlier that you weren’t going out tonight, and I thought it’d be nice to keep you company.” He notices your surprised face and immediately his eyes widen, stammering, “Oh God, that’s so rude of me, I just completely invited myself over, I’m so sorry, Y/N, I’ll leave-”

He tries to take back the packet and the bottle from you but you just giggle at his antics, reassuring him that it’s fine and that he’s more welcome to stay. “I said no to the girls because as sweet as they are, it’d be socially draining to spend the evening with them. It’ll be fine with you,” you said, not realizing how true the words were until they were out of your mouth. Being around Heeseung was effortless, you could just be yourself without having to worry about the clever thing to say or tip-toe around certain subjects.

He grins at you and you try to ignore how pretty his smile is. “I’m glad to know that.”

You tell Heeseung to go sit down in the living room while you go get two wine glasses. When you see him sitting on your sofa, something weird but not entirely uncomfortable settles in your chest. He’s been to your apartment a few times before, for office party after-drinks or for projects with other colleagues, but he’s never been by himself (well, except for Tuesday, but that doesn’t count, you tell yourself), and you’re not unaware of the implications of having an attractive man alone at your place and drinking wine with him.

“What’s in the Amazon bag?” you ask as you put the glasses on the coffee table and start pouring you both a drink.

“Something you’ll be very happy to see,” he says with a wiggle of his eyebrows. He opens up the packet to reveal a plastic bag full of keys with a “Ta-da!”. Each key has an unmarked keychain tied to it, and you remember your plan: buy a bunch of keys on Amazon, put his phone number on them and lose them all over town.

You start nodding fervently, a huge smile on your face. “Yes! Part two of the plan shall commence,” you say, and you hand him his glass so you can clink them together. But before that, he raises his hand, looking at you solemnly.

“I’d like to propose a toast,” he starts, making you snort at his fake pompous tone, “to you, Y/N, for not letting that asshole bring you down and still being the coolest person I know.”

You giggle as you clink your glasses with a cheers. You’re surprisingly touched by his words, but you don’t wanna turn the atmosphere all emotional and mushy, so instead, you tease, “I’m the coolest person you know? The people you hang out with must not be very cool then.” You look up at him from your drink with a mischievous smirk, and if you had any idea of the way that look made him feel, you’d probably be blushing hard.

“They are cool,” he insists, “just not as cool as you.” He stares back at you with that glint you can never figure out in his eyes, and it’s too much after five seconds so you look away with a huff.

“Whatever, let’s just get to work.” You go get two pens and plop back down in front of Heeseung, letting the keys spill from the bag onto the couch. The two of you chat and sip on wine while you write down Sunghoon’s phone number on a hundred keys each. He tells you about how he met Jay and Jake in freshman year of college and how they’ve somehow stuck together all this time no matter their differences, and you tell him about your childhood friends you only see when you go home from time to time but often keep in contact with. He brags about his karaoke skills and you make him promise to show you one day; he agrees in an instant. You say you’ve been thinking about getting a cat now that Sunghoon’s not around to complain about his allergy and ‘the mess it would make anyway,’ and Heeseung offers to come and choose one with you at the pet shelter. It’s such a nice thing to do, you think, and you try not to suffocate as your heart grows three times its size.

“Thanks, Heeseung. I’d really like that, actually,” you say, and if he notices that your eyes have teared up a bit, he doesn’t say anything.

“How are you, by the way?” he asks after a few moments of silence. “And don’t give me that bullshit you give everyone at the office. Tell me how you’ve been, really.”

You sigh deeply, willing your heart to get back to its normal size. “I tell everyone I’m fine because it’s so much easier and faster than the truth. I’m not sure how I am, to be honest.” You look up at him and his eyes softly tell you to keep going. “Sometimes I feel like there’s been a weight lifted off my chest and sometimes I feel like I’m gonna crumble under it all. I knew my relationship with Sunghoon was bound to end; we were both obviously getting tired of each other. This might be TMI, but we only had sex like once or twice a month towards the end, like an old married couple,” you say, chuckling a bit awkwardly. You could just blame it on the alcohol. Heeseung lowers his head so you wouldn’t see the blush creeping on his cheeks at the idea of sex with you.

“I think we lost feelings for each other a while ago, but it was easier staying in a fading relationship until we actually had a tangible reason to break up. Guess he provided that for us,” you say with a dry chuckle. “But in a way I’m happy it ended badly, because if we’d broken up amicably, I’m scared I might have had moments where I doubted whether it was the right decision or not. Now I know I’ll never go back to him.”

You wouldn’t go back to Sunghoon - Heeseung hopes you don’t hear his shaky intake of breath at that news. He doesn’t say anything, so you keep going.

“I think I’ve realized that ifI’m upset, it’s because of how humiliating what happened is, not because it actually happened. Does that make sense?” you ask, looking up at Heeseung.

He nods. “Yeah, I think it does. It’s just cowardly, isn’t it? If he wanted a reason to break up, there are a thousand more respectful ways to do it. Talking about it, for one.”

“Exactly. Which I think is why I want to do all this,” you gesture at the keys in front of you, “if I was actually sad because I lost him, I’d just be a crying mess right now. But I just want to piss him off, make him feel some kind of repercussions for what he did. He’s not a suspicious person originally, but I’d love it if this made him think he was being punished by the Gods or something.”

As Heeseung and you continue talking, you both keep shifting in your seats so that you end up cross-legged, facing each other and knees touching. You try not to pay it too much mind but it feels like all the heat in your body has gone to the spot you’re touching and you wonder if it would feel this warm if you touched him anywhere else.

After another thirty minutes, you’re done filling in all the keys and put them back in the bag to spread all over town the next day. Heeseung agrees to a movie, so you prepare some snacks as he gets the movie ready on your TV. When you come back in the living room, he’s got a blanket wrapped around him, lifting it and tapping the seat next to him when he sees you. Your heart melts like ice cream in the sun at the sight, and you curse it for doing so many weird things tonight.

The movie is a rom-com you’ve seen a thousand times, so you use that excuse to focus your attention on the man next to you rather than what’s playing on the TV. You’re scooted close enough to him so that your sides are touching, and your theory from earlier turns out to be true: it feels hot in all the spots your bodies come into contact. You want to fall into him because somehow, you trust him enough to catch you. You settle for resting your head on his shoulder, and his arm comes immediately around you as if he’d been waiting for you to make a move. He starts to rub gentle circles on your shoulder with his thumb and your whole body relaxes under his touch.

You turn your body towards his, and you hesitate for a few minutes because you’re afraid he might hate it but his soft caresses tell you it’s okay, so you shyly put your legs over his lap, your arms coming up to wrap themselves around his neck. “Is this too much?,” you mumble and he tries not to shiver at the feeling of your lips moving against his neck. You’ve been longing to have someone close for months now, but all your attempts at giving Sunghoon your love had been turned down so coldly that you were fearful to try it with anyone else.

“No, no, not at all. You could never be too much, Y/N,” he mumbles into your hair, and your heart races (because it just won’t settle down, tonight) at his words. You don’t think too much about it, though, otherwise your brain might short-circuit.

When you feel your eyelids getting heavy, you gather the strength to say, “I‘m getting sleepy, Hee,” the nickname leaving your lips before you can stop it.

“That’s alright, you can fall asleep,” he whispers back, and drifting off to sleep wrapped up in his arms feels like being in a cloud.

—

The next morning, the sunrise drowns your living room in warm yellow light, and the brightness wakes you up. Your eyes flutter open and you find yourself pressed to Heeseung’s chest. You can feel his heart quietly beating against your cheek and the sound of his soft snores fills the silence in the room. So this is what it feels like to wake up next to Heeseung, you think, and you really like it.

You lean back very slightly to raise your head and get a better look at him. His mouth is wide open, and there’s a small pool of saliva at the corner of his lips, but you’ve never found him more adorable. You suppress a giggle at his cute state and bury your head back into his chest, hugging him a bit tighter. You’re not sure whether you should do this or jump away from him, but the first option feels right. Plus, if you fell asleep like this, he surely wouldn’t mind waking up the same way, right?

Heeseung feels so warm in your arms. Now that you’re awake, you’re having a bit of a hard time staying still. You hike your body up his a little bit, intertwining your legs even more, and engulf your face in the crook of his neck. You take in his scent and it’s almost dizzying. His cologne has practically worn off even though hints of it are still there, but it’s the smell of his skin that makes your mind cloud. It should feel odd, being in such an intimate position with someone you’ve considered a friend and colleague for so many years, but it’s somehow comforting. You smile into his neck, nuzzling your nose a bit further into it.

He squirms a little in his sleep, and he tightens his grip around your waist so that instead of having his arms loosely wrapped around you, he’s now holding you closer to him. He lets out a low hum as he slowly stirs from his sleep and the sound makes your stomach flip. You sigh into his neck and feel him shiver at the feeling. You start rubbing his back and he hums again. “Are you awake?” you murmur softly, lips moving against his skin.

“Mh-hm,” he sleepily replies, slipping his warm hands underneath your shirt. Goosebumps appear where he touches you but your skin is on fire. As your breath gets quicker, you feel something you haven’t felt in a long time bubble in your stomach: need. Right now, you need Heeseung. His hands on you and the proximity of your bodies are intoxicating, but you need more.

The feeling is overwhelming and you don’t know what to do with it; you feel it in the tips of your toes and the palms of your hands, and it makes your head spin. You bring yourself somehow even closer to him and you bury your whole face in his neck, desperate for something, anything, and you hope he gets what you’re trying to convey.

His hands that were resting on the low of your back ride up against your shirt, exposing your back to the cold air. You exhale at his touch, squirming and biting back a whimper when his hands trace the line of your waist, making you arch your back and bringing your chest closer to his. He likes how sensitive you are and caresses you along your sides so he can hear you whine because of him. He’s just touching your back, but it’s sending you into a frenzy, and you can feel wetness pool between your legs and the knot in your stomach get tighter. You hear his breath hitch when you press a soft kiss right underneath his jaw.

“Y/N…” he breathes out, and the thought that he might want you as much as you want him right now makes you double down on your ministrations. Oh, if only you knew. If only you knew how long he’d been waiting for this, and how he thought he might be dreaming it all, not believing that he was actually holding you right now and that he could feel your lips on him.

Your soft kisses turn hungrier and sloppier, and soon you’re leaving wet marks all over his neck and jaw. His hands snake down to your ass, grabbing it tightly as he brings your crotch down onto his, and the friction makes you mewl. You untangle your leg from between his to hook it over his hips so you can feel his growing erection against you even more. As you grind against each other, you’re both breathing and moaning loudly, and his needy whimpers make your brain draw a blank. Keeping one hand on your ass, the other comes up to cup your jaw, making you look up at him, and he kisses you ravenously, tongues meeting in a desperate clash. You moan into the kiss as your hips rock together, his erection rubbing perfectly against your core. You pull back to catch your breath, but keep your lips close together so that you’re breathing each other’s air, making you feel dizzy with pleasure and want. You rake your hands through his hair, tugging at the strands, and he breathes out a curse at the feeling. He dips his hand under your shirt, tracing the outline of your breast with the knob of one of his fingers before playing with your nipple, softly twisting it between his digits.

“Fuck, Heeseung,” you moan, “that feels so good.” Your mind is completely blank, overwhelmed with the intense pleasure you’re feeling, and you feel like you might cum without him even touching you down there at all. “How does it feel so good?”

“I don’t know, Y/N. I don’t know either,” he purrs in your ear. “I think I might cum in my pants like a fucking fifteen year old,” he says, and you choke out a laugh.

“Me too. It just feels so fucking good.” As you utter those words, the knot in your stomach starts to get tighter and tighter, and you feel it might break apart anytime now. “Fuck, Heeseung, I think I’m gonna cum. I can’t cum like this, fuck, it just feels too good.”

Heeseung presses his fingers into your hips, surely leaving marks for you to find later there, bringing you even harder down even harder against his clothed cock, and you whine out at the feeling. “Please, please cum for me, Y/N. It’s okay. Please cum for me,” he begs, and his words send you over the edge. The knot breaks as your orgasm ripples through you, making you moan out a string of curses and Heeseung’s name. He doesn’t stop for a second, desperately chasing his own high and slightly overstimulating you.

“Say my name again, please.”

“Hee- fuck, Heeseung, you cum too, baby,” you stutter, unable to bite back the moans that escape your lips as he continues rutting into you. He brings his forehead to yours, resting them against each other. You kiss him all over his face. “Heeseung, fuck, baby, cum for me.” With one final thrust, his movements still, pleasure written all over his face as he shoots out his release, making a mess all over himself. You kiss him softly on the lips as he comes down from his high, the both of you catching your breaths.

You meet his gaze and burst into a fit of laughter, him following soon after. “Fuck, what was that?” you ask between giggles.

He rakes a hand through his hair then covers his eyes with forearm, grinning from ear to ear. “I don’t know, but it was fucking amazing.”

The two of you stay there for a few moments, arms around each other, basking in the sensation of your orgasms, and you can’t stop smiling. After a few minutes, Heeseung breaks the comfortable silence.

“As much as I’d love to stay like this for hours, I’m really sticky now,” he says with a laugh. “Shall we go get cleaned up?” he asks, a tempting glint in his eyes.

“Sure,” you reply, smiling at him. “Head first, I’ll join you in a minute.”

Heeseung nods, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before heading off to the bathroom. You lay there, closing your eyes as you try to make sense of what just happened. You and Heeseung had just gotten off on each other, and it had felt damn good. You wanted more of him; all of the cells in your body were screaming at you to get up and follow him into the shower. But it was also so confusing: you broke up with Sunghoon just a couple weeks ago, and here you were, lusting after your co-worker and friend. You aren’t blind, you’ve always known that Heeseung is an attractive man, but the sudden change in the way you see him these past few days makes you dizzy. Whatever this is, you don’t want it to be because you suddenly feel free and jump at the first man in sight or because you need someone to fill a Sunghoon-shaped hole in your heart. You don’t think it is, but you also don’t fully trust yourself to have your head screwed on right at the moment. All you know is Heeseung deserves better than being someone’s rebound, and you’re scared you won’t be able to give him what he should have.

The sound of the shower turning on wakes you from your thoughts and you get up from the couch, joining Heeseung in the bathroom. Your breath hitches in your throat at the sight of him in all his naked glory. He’s standing back to you as he lets the water run over his head and down his toned back, and you try not to gawk at the muscles there. You want to trace the outline of them with your fingers, you want to feel his shoulder blades move underneath your hands, you want to press kisses down along his spine, you want to see goosebumps on his soft skin at your touch. You want him. But you also don’t want to hurt him.

So for now, you take your clothes off and join him under the hot water that’s already started to fog up the mirror and the glass walls of the shower. He lets out a soft gasp when you place your hands on his waist and he turns around to look at you. He looks just as perfect from the front as he does from behind.

“Hi,” he says quietly, smiling down at you.

“Hi,” you say back, roaming your thumbs over his sides. He leans down to trap your lips in a kiss, and you let him, even wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him closer. You open your mouth for him when he traces your bottom lip with his tongue, and you only pull away when the both of you are breathless.

You look down to see that he’s gotten hard again and you both laugh at the sight. “Sorry. Can’t really help it,” he says, grinning. You shake your head and give him a peck on the lips. He could probably slip right in, with how wet you were, but there was a line between you two that you were a step away from crossing, and you didn’t know if you should or not.

“Heeseung,” you call, holding his face in your hands. He hums in response, closing his eyes and leaning into your touch, and your heart feels heavy with unexplainable emotions.

“I’m scared,” you say honestly. He opens his eyes again at your words and his hands come up to cover yours, intertwining your fingers together as he brings your arms down so that they’re hanging at your sides.

“Of what?”

“Of this. Of all the things you’re making me feel that I shouldn’t be feeling right now.” You drop your head, not wanting to see the potential disappointment on his face, but he takes your chin in his hand to bring it back up. The look he gives you makes you feel more naked than your actual lack of clothes.

“Why shouldn’t you be feeling them?” he asks, eyebrows slightly furrowed. You get the sense that he’s not upset at you, however, just genuinely confused. “Because you just got out of a relationship?” he asks, and you nod. “But didn’t you say you lost feelings for him months ago?”

“I did, but it’s still a shock, breaking up after four years of being with someone. I don’t wanna string you along.”

“Y/N, you could drag me through dirt and I’d thank you. I’ll take anything you give me if it means I get to be around you,” he says, and his words pierce right into the deepest crevices of your heart, filling them to the brim. “I mean it. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m desperately in love with you. I haven’t particularly tried to hide it, especially this past week, and I’m sorry, I should’ve realized you’d need time before getting into another relationship. That is, if you’d even want to be with me.” His eyes never leave yours as he confesses his feelings for you. All you feel now are his hands around your waist, the water hitting your skin long forgotten.

“You- You’re in love with me?” you stutter, shocked by the sudden news.

“Yes, but that’s not what’s important here. If it’s time that you need, I’ll give it to you. I’ve been waiting for almost five years now, I can handle another few months.”

“Heeseung…” you start, but all you can do is hug him close to you and bury your face in his neck. Words aren’t enough to express how grateful you are for him.

“I’m sorry if I’ve pressured you. I just think I finally saw a chance and jumped on it, but the last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable.”

“You’re not,” you say into his neck, “you’re not. You could never. Thank you for understanding and being patient.”

“Of course,” he says, keeping an arm around your waist and the other one coming up to stroke your hair. You lean back to take a look at him. How did you not realize how perfect he was all these years?

“I’m sorry. You deserve better than someone who makes you wait while they get their shit together.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. I’m happy you’re even looking my way at all. Don’t even get me started on how ecstatic I am to be in a shower with you right now,” he says, making you both laugh. You bring your lips to his and he kisses you back like it’s second nature. Before it can get heated again, you pull away and smile at him. He looks at you like you hung the moon in the night sky.

You should feel shy being completely naked in front of Heeseung, but for some reason, it doesn’t faze you at all. The love in his eyes makes you feel like there’s nothing to be shy or embarrassed about. It’s worlds away from Sunghoon’s cold gaze you had gotten used to.

You press some body wash in your hand and lather it all over his torso and back, letting your hands roam down to his butt with a giggle. He does the same thing for you and your heart pounds as you feel his hand all over you. You try not to moan when his palm brushes over your sensitive nipple.

“You’re so pretty, I could eat you right up,” he says as his eyes rake your body up and down, voice lower and eyes darker than they were moments ago. When his gaze meets yours, his face however immediately softens. “But I’ll wait before I do that,” he adds, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of your nose.

Later, you get out of the shower and dry off, then get ready for the day ahead. You spend it going around the city hand-in-hand with Heeseung. Even though the goal is to spread the keys all over town, it just feels like one day-long date. You let your footsteps take you in any direction, through paved alleys, over bridges and along tramway tracks, making sure to drop keys here and there, sometimes leaving them out in the open or hiding them behind flowerpots, so that they’d be found either in the next hour or in a year.

When you start getting hungry, you buy sandwiches and sodas from a convenience store and sit down by the pond in the park, enjoying the sun on your skin and each other’s presence. You can talk freely about anything with Heeseung without feeling judged in the slightest, and even when you’re rambling on about a show you watched or your latest random obsession, he listens to you like you’re telling him the solution to world peace. He laughs at your jokes and makes you blush with compliments and you don’t even think for a second about the reason you’re doing this in the first place. That is, until you run head-first into him.

You spent another few hours walking around and dropping keys, but got too tired and decided to get an early dinner in a bar-restaurant in the center of town as a reward for your hard work. It’s one of Sunghoon’s favorite places, and you were hesitant to go there at first, but decided that it was time to make new memories and replace bad ones with good ones. The restaurant hadn’t done anything to you, so there was no reason to avoid it. Except that the chances of running into your ex here are somewhat bigger, and of course, he had to be there now of all times.

You’re almost done eating when you see him. Or rather, you hear him. He’s screaming at the TV that’s playing a baseball game and apparently, the team he’s rooting for is losing. At first, you think the sound you hear is a fragment of your imagination: Sunghoon doesn’t get drunk and scream at TVs, especially in public places. Hell, he doesn’t even keep up with baseball. You think it’s just someone who sounds eerily like him, but you turn your head and find him hunched over the bar counter, four empty pints of beer in front of him. Sunghoon doesn’t drink beer, you think.

You gawk at him, in disbelief of his behavior, and soon enough he turns his head and sees you as well. He squints his eyes as if he’s having trouble figuring out whether that’s you or not he’s seeing, and when he confirms it, his eyes go wide and he immediately gets up, heading towards you like a drunk bull towards a red cloth. He’s teetering and you think he might fall down when he gets to your table, holding onto it for dear life.

“H-hey, Y/N,” he says, eyes looking at you but not quite focussed. He doesn’t even spare a glance at Heeseung. This isn’t the man you were dating for four years, you think. This cannot be the same man that organizes his desk maniacally or considers one glass of wine heavy drinking. But it is, and it’s a side of him you’d practically never seen before because he keeps it in the deepest corners of himself. It’s the side of him that lets go of any control, that finally doesn’t care about anything. It’s probably the side of him he hates most.

“Hi, Sunghoon.”

“Wha-what are you doing here?”

“I’m having dinner,” you curtly reply, nodding towards Heeseung. Sunghoon takes a look at the man in front of you, eyes widening then squinting again.

“Heeseung? Seriously?” he says as he clearly tries to suppress burps, slurring his words. “God, I should’ve seen this coming. You always made googly eyes at my girlfriend.”

“I’m not your girlfriend, Sunghoon. Not since you cheated on me,” you say, staring hard at him. His head falls and he drops to a squat, still holding onto the table. He looks back up at you and does something you’ve almost never seen him do before, and definitely never for you.

He cries.

His eyes are red and already puffy from the alcohol, but now tears swell in them as a tear rolls down his cheek and his lips start to quiver. Then all of a sudden, he’s full on sobbing in the restaurant, garnering curious looks from other customers.

“Oh, God,” you say under your breath, holding your head in your hands. There have been so many times he could’ve done this, showed you that he actually cared, but he just had to choose now. When he takes your hand in his and brings it to his face, Heeseung seems to hit his limit. He gets up and you think he’s going to manhandle Sunghoon out of the restaurant, and he does do that, but only after paying for the unfinished meal. When he comes back from the till, he takes Sunghoon up by the armpits and makes him walk to the outside of the restaurant, you following close behind.

The chilly night air hits your face, calming you down slightly. It’s still infuriating to see Sunghoon acting this way, and it takes everything in you not to just punch him in the face when he starts towards you again, trying to take you in his arms.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I really am, please just give me another chance. Or at least let me talk to you! I promise I’ll be better,” he screams out between sobs as Heeseung holds him back from you. You just cross your arms and stare coldly at him, willing the tears forming in your eyes to not fall. If there’s one thing you don’t want him or Heeseung to think, it’s how sad this is making you. Your tears are angry, frustrated ones; not heartbroken ones.

“You’re drunk, Sunghoon, I don’t wanna talk to you right now. Actually, I don’t want to talk to you, ever.”

“I’m not- I’m not drunk, I swear,” he says just before tripping over his own feet, almost face-planting on the pavement had Heeseung not been holding him steady. “I just had a really bad day, people kee- people keep calling me about keys, and I miss you so goddamn much, Y/N. I’m sorry. Plea-please, come back to me.” His words all sound meshed together and it takes effort understanding what the hell he’s saying.

“Why don’t you go to whoever you cheated on me with?”

“She doesn’t- she’s no match for you, Y/N. Please. I miss- I miss you.” You just roll your eyes in response.

He continues begging and making false promises, and you order an Uber after two minutes, not able to take any of this anymore. You sit him down in front of the restaurant, telling him to stay put, then take Heeseung’s hand and start walking away. You don’t even bother checking that he got in the Uber safely; he’s not your responsibility anymore.

You walk in the direction of your apartment. It’s silent for a few minutes until Heeseung speaks up, softly asking you if you’re alright. “I’m fine, just pissed off,” you reply colder than you mean to. You don’t want to take your anger out on Heeseung, but you feel like you’re going to explode if you bottle it in. He tries to get more out of you, to get a glimpse of how you’re feeling, but you’ve spent the last four years not talking about emotions because Sunghoon considered them a nuisance and you don’t have the strength to unlearn that behavior right now. You find yourself snapping at Heeseung when he asks you questions, and he quickly figures out that now is not the best time to talk to you.

You spend the rest of the walk in silence, Heeseung’s presence next to you the only thing keeping you from hitting a wall or screaming into the night. When you get to your apartment building, you’ve calmed down, and you apologize for acting that way towards him.

“I’ve just never seen him like that before, and it makes me so angry that he does this now. The sheer audacity of this man to cheat on me and then make a scene in front of everyone. He’ll never go to that place again, I’m sure,” you say with a dry chuckle.

Heeseung takes you in his arms, resting his chin on top of your head and slowly rubbing your back. “I’m sorry about him. All I can think to explain his behavior is that he has nothing to hold onto now, so he comes back running to you. I can’t lie, I really wanted to punch some sense into him, but I didn’t wanna make anything worse.”

You take a step towards him and nuzzle your face in his chest, warmth spreading all over you. “I had such a good day as well. I’m mad it had to end that way.”

“I know, me too,” he sighs into your hair.

You lean back to look at him and he brushes some hair out of your face. “Thank you so much for today, Heeseung. I had an amazing time. And I’m glad to hear he’s already been bothered about the keys,” you say with a laugh.

“Anytime, Y/N,” he says, placing a kiss at the top of your head.

“I think I want to be alone tonight. Just to think a little bit.”

“Of course. I’ll see you Monday at work, then?” he asks with a smile, which you return.

“See you Monday, Hee.”

He kisses your head a second time and walks away, and you already miss him. You call out to him when he’s a few yards away, and he pivots, still smiling at you.

“What’s the next thing on the list?”

��

The next day, Sunghoon sends you a text thanking you for the Uber and apologizing for his behavior but still asking to meet up so you can talk. You tell him you’ll drop his stuff off at some point after work this week. Then you block his number.

—

Being at work feels different now that you know about Heeseung’s feelings for you. You like to catch him staring at you then tease him about it during your breaks. You have lunch together, laughing hunched over your tupperwares, and if you weren’t so engrossed in each other, you might notice the knowing look Yuqi and Miyeon exchange whenever they see you acting like highschoolers. Now that he doesn’t have to hide how he feels, he gets you coffee every morning and gives you little notes that never fail to make you smile. In the evenings, he texts you about random stuff, and then apologizes about how he might be coming off too strong. You tell him that it’s fine and that you like it a lot; more than you should, probably, but you don’t say that. The two of you aren’t even properly together, yet you’ve never felt so cared for by anyone in your life.

On a Thursday night, you decide to go to Sunghoon’s and drop his stuff off together. At first, you say you should probably go alone, but Heeseung insists on accompanying you.

“I don’t want you going over there by yourself, what if he’s as drunk as last time? Plus, it says it right here that I need to be there for the prank to work,” he argues, and you agree that it’d be reassuring to have him with you. You re-read the list you’d drunkenly made together: Change the labels on his shower products and hide his TV remote when Y/N hands him back his stuff. This is a two-man job, after all.

Once at your apartment, Heeseung loads the trunk of his car with the two boxes of things Sunghoon had left behind and that you’d already gotten ready while you mess around with his shower products. You exchange the shampoo and conditioner labels and empty the bottle of body wash, replacing it with shaving cream. Sure, he’ll quickly figure out what happened and know you’re the one behind it, but you don’t care about that anymore. It didn’t matter that he knew what you were up to; this was the last prank, anyway.

Heeseung drives the both of you to Sunghoon’s apartment. When your ex-boyfriend opens the door, he seems taken aback to see the both of you there but quickly masks it, his poker face back on. Now that’s the Sunghoon I know, you think.

“Hi, Y/N. Heeseung,” he curtly greets, stepping aside so the two of you can come in. “I’m guessing you’re here to return my things?”

“Yes,” you say, looking around the familiar apartment. Nothing’s changed: it’s still as white and tidy and squeaky clean as it’s always been.

“Right. Just put them over there then, that’s fine.” Heeseung puts them down where Sunghoon points, then there’s a silence for a few seconds.

“Well, if that’s it, then…” you start and head for the door, not wanting to be around Sunghoon for longer than you needed to.

“Wait!” he suddenly calls out, making you and Heeseung look at him expectantly. “Y/N, can I uh, can we talk for a minute? Alone?” he asks, poker face suddenly crumbling.

“Um, fine, sure,” you say, and follow him into the kitchen. When his back is turned, you gesture at Heeseung to go into the living room and hide the remote as per the plan. He gives you a thumbs up as you enter the kitchen.

Once you’re in there, you cross your arms, waiting for a clearly struggling Sunghoon to start. “Right. You know I’m bad at stuff like this, so I’ll just make it short,” he says, and you try not to scoff. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I really am, for how things ended, and for getting drunk and being embarrassing like that the other night.” He shivers at the memory. “I said a lot of things I know I shouldn’t have said, and even though I kinda meant them, I should’ve kept them to myself.

“I don’t have a great excuse for what I did, and I don’t think you want to hear a made-up one. Things between us hadn’t been great for a while, had they?” he asks, and you shake your head in agreement. “It was painfully obvious that neither of us wanted to stay in the relationship, but… you weren’t saying anything, and I didn’t know how to bring it up…”

“So you found a way to end things without having to talk to me about it?” you say, unable to keep the emotion out of your voice. You know it’s hard for Sunghoon to talk to you like this, but you wish this had been the way you broke up. It would’ve saved you a lot of pain.

Sunghoon lets his head hang. “Yeah, I guess. If I could do things differently, I would. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Yeah, well… Nothing we can do about it now.” You both stand there in silence for a while, avoiding the other’s gaze. You don’t know what to say next but it feels weird leaving now, like there’s still something unsaid.

He breaks the silence first. “So. What’s um, what’s with you and Heeseung?”

You look at him, surprised by his question. “I’m not sure. We’re figuring things out,” you reply cautiously. He nods his head slowly, taking the information in.

“So, he’s not like a rebound or anything?”

You scoff and roll your eyes at him. “No, Sunghoon, he’s not a rebound. If I needed a rebound, I’d have gotten one months ago.”

“But we would've been together then…?”

“So? That didn’t stop you,” you say coldly. “Anyway, I think this conversation’s over. Thanks for apologizing, I guess.”

Sunghoon doesn’t try to stop you, and you try not to be disappointed. It would’ve been a nice ego stroke.

Walking back to Heeseung’s car, you nod and exhale through your nose when he asks you if you’re alright. You ask him where he hid the TV remote, and he says he stashed it between towels in a cupboard in the bathroom: “There’s no way he’ll find it there anytime soon. You guys were talking a while, so I also changed some books’ places on his shelves in the living room.”

In the car, Heeseung gives you silence, which you’re grateful for. You need some time to think about what just happened, and what will happen now. Your talk with Sunghoon could’ve gone somewhat better, but you shouldn’t have expected that much from him; him sincerely, soberly apologizing already makes you feel better. You think about the final thing from the list: Make him regret what he did.

“Hey, Heeseung?” you call out, and he hums in response, turning his head slightly towards you but keeping his eyes on the road.

“About the last thing on the list. I guess that’s already done, no? I don’t think there’s anything else we can do that’ll make him regret what he did more, is there?”

He seems to think for a minute, pouting his lips in reflection. “I guess not. I’d say he seems pretty regretful as well. How did your talk with him go?”

“It was alright,” you sigh. “At least he wasn’t drunk, this time. I’m happy he knows what he did was wrong, and I’m glad he found it in him to apologize. In all our years together, that must’ve been the third or fourth time.”

“Wow,” Heeseung breathes out. You turn to look at him and see that he’s clenching his jaw. He notices your stare and chuckles, explaining: “It’s just frustrating knowing you had to go through that for such a long time. I could already tell you weren’t happy with him, but I didn’t know how bad it was. If I had, I think I would’ve had a savior moment and tried to rescue you from there.”

You laugh with him, and contentment suddenly fills you. It’s so easy, being around Heeseung. It’s easy, and it feels good. “Well, you’re here now, aren’t you?”

He stops at a red light and turns to look at you, his eyes trapping you in. “Yeah, I am.”

Another comfortable silence settles in the car as you face the window, hiding the blush creeping on your cheeks. Heeseung takes one of your hands from your lap, holding it on your thigh as he keeps his other hand on the steering wheel. He doesn’t let go of it until he parks in front of your apartment, turning to you with a smile.

“So, what now?” you ask, feeling giddy under his gaze.

He giggles at you and brings his hand up to pat your hair. “Whatever you want.”

You’re not used to being given the right to make decisions, and the fact that Heeseung so easily gives you the reins takes you aback. You try to figure out what you want, but it’s a bit hard; there’s nothing you want to do that jumps out at you, and so you tell Heeseung that.

“That’s alright. Do you know if you want to be by yourself? Or should I stay with you?”

You take another moment to ponder, checking the time. Your phone screen blinks back 8:03 p.m. “I think… it’s already quite late, I think I want to go to bed early. By myself, if that’s okay.”

“Of course,” he says, smiling at you. “I’ll let you go, then.”

You kiss his cheek goodbye, then head to the entrance of your building, waving at him when you reach it. He gestures for you to get in, and you like that he waits for you to be inside before driving away.

—

Heeseung is so patient. He doesn’t make you feel bad for not giving him a straightforward answer after a month, he just keeps on smiling at you, making you laugh, and doing sweet gestures. He reminds you everyday that he’s there through his actions but never pressures you. As promised, he comes with you to the pet shelter, and together you choose an orange tabby that you’d fallen in love at first sight with.

One day after you’ve gone out for drinks with Yuqi and Miyeon and you’re not thinking very straight, you call him in drunk tears, apologizing for making him wait and saying you don’t want him to be upset with you.

“I could never be upset with you, Y/N. I’ll wait however long you need, and I’m happy as long as you are too.” His words stick with you and they echo in your mind whenever your gazes meet.

One Friday night, Miyeon invites everyone in the office out to celebrate her recent promotion. Heeseung sits next to you and holds your hand under the table. You find yourself wishing you didn’t feel the need to hide your intertwined hands from your colleagues. You turn your face towards Heeseung who’s engrossed in a conversation with your manager, and you love how his face lights up and how animatedly he’s talking. He looks so beautiful and you hold his hand a bit tighter. He turns to you for a second with a smile on his face, squeezing your hand before turning back to the manager, and it’s all you need to know you’re ready for him.

You and your colleagues close the bar, and Heeseung and you stand outside for half an hour, making sure everyone gets safely into a taxi. Heeseung had said he didn’t feel like drinking that night, and you had stopped as soon as the realization had hit you, wanting a clear head.

When everybody’s left, you and Heeseung shyly avoid each other’s gaze, kicking small pebbles on the ground, bursting into a fit of giggles when your eyes meet.

“So…” he starts.

“So…” you repeat, looking up at him with a grin.

“I live quite close to here, if you’d like to come over,” he offers, voice quiet.

“I’d love that.” He looks at you, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You both laugh again, and you think it’s crazy how he manages to make you feel fifteen again. He takes your hand in his, swaying it back and forth the whole way to his apartment. He opens the door for you, grandly gesturing for you to go in. You’ve been here before for after-drinks with him and your colleagues, but just like when he had come over at yours a few weeks prior, being here now by yourself feels different. Heeseung’s apartment is cozy, inviting and very him. Old books stand on the same shelf next to the latest PS5 releases, he’s got framed pictures of him and his family next to his TV; there’s even a few which you’re in. A colorful knitted throw covers the brown leather couch, and he shyly explains that he’s found a new hobby these past few months.

“It started out when my niece was born, I wanted to knit her a small hat…” he says, and you want to squish his cheeks with how adorable he is.

You take another look around the living room before your eyes settle on him. He hopes you can’t hear how loud his heart is beating right now. He clears his throat. “What do you, um, what do you want to do?” he asks nervously.

You know what you want to do. You feel it burning inside you, but you don’t know how to put it into words. You take a step towards him, your eyes never leaving his.

“Do you want a glass of wine?” You shake your head. “Water?” You shake it again, taking another step closer to him. He closes his eyes and releases a shaky breath when you’re standing right in front of him, mere centimeters separating your bodies.

“Heeseung?” you say, and he hums at the sound of his name but keeps his eyes closed. “Thank you for waiting.” You wrap your arms around his neck, pressing the side of your face into his chest. His arms immediately come around your waist, hugging you closer to his body.

“Of course.”

“I don’t want to make you wait anymore,” you say quietly, and when he doesn’t answer after a few moments, you think he might have not even heard you. He leans back to look at you, and you swear his eyes have gotten a shade darker.

“Are you sure?” he asks, eyes trained on your lips.

“Yes. Kiss me, please,” you say, and he doesn’t need to be told twice before pressing his mouth to yours.

You find release in his lips. The kiss starts out slow and careful at first, as if he’s scared you might go back on your word at any moment, but he’s quickly reassured that you won’t when you tilt your head to deepen the kiss, your hands finding purchase in the soft strands of his hair. You can feel all those years he’s waited to do this in his kiss, all of his desire and need and desperation. You hope the way you kiss him back makes him understand how happy and safe he’s made you feel these past weeks.

He bends down and picks you up, making you yelp in surprise at the sudden action, then carries you bridal-style to his bedroom, laying you down gently on the mattress. He places feather-like kisses all over your face, ears and neck, making you giggle at the ticklish sensation. You grab his face to bring his lips back down onto yours, and he gladly reciprocates the kiss, the both of you smiling into it. The shots of soju you had hours ago have nothing to do with how light-headed you feel.

You untuck his button-up from his trousers, dipping your hands underneath it to feel the warm skin there. He shivers at your touch and kisses you more hungrily, his tongue asking for permission inside your mouth. Your hands come from his lower back to his chest and you start to unbutton his shirt from the top down, marveling at the sight of his toned chest and abs once the shirt is off. You push down on his shoulders so that he lays on his back as you straddle his hips. You dip your head down to press warm kisses down his shoulder and between his collarbones, your hand caressing his stomach and feeling him squirm at your touch.

When his hands come to hold you at the sides, you sit up and let him take your top off, laughing together when it gets a bit stuck around your head. His big hands brush against your stomach and come up to cup your breasts over your bra, which you quickly unclasp. He breathes out a ‘wow’ at the sight of you half-naked on top of him, and you think there’s no way you’ll ever get tired of that look of admiration in his eyes.

He leans in and wraps his soft lips around your nipple, licking and nipping at the sensitive bud, making you moan and arch your back in pleasure. He keeps one arm around your waist and uses his second hand to tend to your other breast, making sure they both get attention. You graze your fingers through his locks, tugging at them when it feels particularly good. His actions make a fire burn in your core, and you’re so desperate for any kind of friction that you start rubbing yourself over his growing erection, making him moan around your nipple.

He kisses from your breasts back up to your lips, trapping them ravenously as his hands snake underneath your skirt to grab at your ass, bringing you down even further onto him. You let your arms hang around his head as you bury your face in the crook of his neck and he continues pressing kisses in your hair.

“Want you inside me, Hee,” you croak out, voice weak.

“Hmm. You have no idea how much I want that baby, but I want to take it slow with you. Make you know how much I love you,” he says, his words sending shivers down your spine.

His arms come around you as he lays you down on your back again and hovers over you. “L-love me?,” you ask quietly.

He kisses you once on the lips and looks you in the eyes. “Yes, love you. So much.” He starts kissing down your body, sucking a mark right underneath your collarbone. “More than you could ever know.” He sucks a second mark in the same spot, and you look down to see that he’s formed a heart with his love bites.

He hooks his fingers under your skirt and looks up at you, asking for permission. You nod your head and he pulls your skirt and underwear down your legs, discarding them somewhere on the floor next to the bed. He rakes his fingers up and down your sides, remembering from last time how sensitive you are there. “You’re so goddamn beautiful, Y/N. I can’t believe I get to see you like this,” he says as he openly stares at your naked body in front of him.

He sits up at the end of his bed, undoing his belt and taking his trousers off so that he’s left in his boxers, the fabric stretching around his hard member. Your mouth waters at the sight, and you reach out a hand, laying it in his chest. “Please, Hee. I need you.”

He smiles softly at you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ve waited so long for this. Do you think you could be patient for me tonight? I promise I’ll give you what you want. I just want to take my time,” he asks and you nod fervently, eyebrows furrowed. He’s right; you’ve made him wait for such a long time, the least you could do is let him go slow tonight.

He hovers down your body, taking your left foot in his hand and placing a soft kiss on top of it. He kisses all the way up from your foot to your thighs, gently biting the soft flesh there. “You’re so pretty, all spread out like this for me. Do you know how pretty you are? Hm?”

You can only hum in response, mind too clouded with pleasure when he’s barely touched you yet. “Please,” you breathe out.

“Please what?” he asks, still nipping at your thighs, making them shake in anticipation. There was a fire between your legs and you didn’t know how long you could take it. “Use your words so I know what you want, baby.”

“Plea-please touch me, Hee.”

“Touch you where, baby? Here?” he says as his thumb strokes up your folds, already soaking wet, making you moan at the sensation.

“Fuck, yes, right here, please,” you whine, bucking your hips up, craving more of his touch.

Heeseung could cum at the sight in front of him, of you so needy for him, of you begging for more. He feels like he’s dreaming, but your moans and your grip on his arm remind him that this is real, this is actually happening. “You have no idea what you do to me, beautiful,” he breathes out before diving into your core, his tongue lapping up all of your juices, licking stripes up your folds and sucking at your clit. He eats you out like he hasn’t had a meal in ages, and you feel a knot forming in your stomach much sooner than you’d like to admit. You tug at his hair and claw at his shoulders, not wanting to hurt him but needing something to hold onto.

You’re a blubbering mess underneath him, and it only gets worse when he slips a finger inside you, quickly adding a second one when he sees how wet and accommodating you are around his fingers. Not even a minute later, you’re moaning out his name like it’s the only thing you know to say and bucking your hips into his face and hand as your orgasm comes crashing down on you, taking your breath away for a few seconds. You hold for dear life onto his shoulders as he helps you ride out your high, then kisses all the way back up to your lips, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

He lets you catch your breath for a moment, kissing your face softly and telling you how well you did, how pretty you are. When you’re rested, you grab his face, kissing him with all the desire in your body. Your hand snakes down to palm him over his boxers and you see him swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, and you can’t help but kiss him there over and over again. You help him out of his boxers, letting his erection spring free as it slaps against his stomach. You take him in your hand, spreading the pre-cum all over him as you bite at his neck and earlobe, reveling in the sounds he’s making for you.

“Need more of you, Hee,” you whisper in his ear.

“Mhm. Anything for you, beautiful. How do you want to do this?” he asks, looking at you with hooded eyes.

“I think… I want to ride you. I want to look at you.” He nods and sits up back against the headboard, taking you in his arms with him and sitting you in his lap. Feeling him against you is enough to make your mind draw a blank. He reaches for his drawer, saying, “Let me put a condom on first,” but you stop him.

“I’m on the pill. Want to feel you without anything, if that’s okay.”

He lets out a shaky breath and nods. “That’s more than okay,” he says with a smile.

You raise yourself on your knees, taking him in your hand and rubbing his tip between your folds a few times before finally sinking down onto his cock, the both of you releasing heavy breaths at the feeling. You sit there for a minute or two, chests pressed together, letting yourself adjust to his size as he grazes his fingernails up and down your back.

“Take your time, baby. You’ve already done so well. And you feel so good just like this.”

“Mmh. Feels good for me too, Hee,” you murmur in his neck.

“Yeah? I’m glad,” he says, letting his hands roam down your back to your ass and behind your thighs. Feeling ready, you move a little bit in his lap, tentatively rolling your hips over his, and the sensation takes over your whole body. You both moan at the same time, and when you pick your pace up, Heeseung can’t stop muttering curses under his breath.

“Fuck, just like that, Y/N. That feels amazing. You’re so perfect.”

He hands grab at your ass, massaging the soft flesh. You then start raising your hips and slamming them back down onto his and he bucks his up to meet yours, repeatedly hitting your g-spot. You try to keep up a quick pace, desperately chasing your high, but soon enough your thighs start to tire and you don’t have the strength to go as fast.

“Heeseung… Need help…” you breathe out, collapsing on top of him.

Without a word, he places a hand between your shoulder blades, pressing you close to him and making you raise your hips. He then digs his fingers into the sides of your hips and starts pounding into you at a much quicker pace than you could ride him, the sound of flesh hitting flesh and your gradually louder moans filling the room. “I’m gonna cum, Hee,” you warn, voice breathy and high-pitched.

“Fuck. Me too, baby.” You’re a moaning mess on top of him, and you can feel his thrusts getting sloppier as he approaches his own high. He grips his fingers tighter in your skin as his orgasm hits him, curses and moans escaping his lips. The sinful sounds he’s making and the feeling of him shooting his seed inside you are enough to send you over the edge, and you cum all over his dick, muttering his name over and over again.

You stay locked against each other for a few moments as you regain consciousness, feeling him getting softer inside you. He pulls out, making you hiss slightly, and rests his head against the wall behind him, looking at you with a cheeky grin and heavy eyelids, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your hips.

You lay down on the bed, body feeling heavy, and rest your head on his thigh, your hand coming up to caress his other one. You place a kiss on the inside of his thigh, then another one of his hip bone, and wrap your arms around his waist, closing your eyes and letting his hand in your hair lull you to sleep.

“Hey, lovebug, don’t fall asleep on me. Let’s get you cleaned up first,” he says, and you let out a low hum, letting him unwrap your arms from around him, get up and help you to the bathroom. “I’ll go and draw us a bath, okay?” he asks softly, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

When you’re back from the toilet, the bath is all filled up with water and he’s laying in it, arms resting against the sides of the tub. He opens his eyes when he hears you coming and he sits up a little bit, gesturing for you to get in with him. You settle yourself between his legs, his arms wrapping themselves around you and rest your head against his chest. You hum at the feeling of the warm water enveloping the both of you and of him against you.

“I think I could stay like this forever,” you say, hands coming to cover his on your stomach.

He lets out a small laugh. “Me too, only if it meant we didn’t get pruny fingers and feet.”

“Ew,” you laugh with him. The two of you chat for another twenty minutes, talking about this and that until the water gets cold and it’d feel cozier being under the sheets together rather than in the tub. He helps you out of it, drying the both of you off with one towel, making you laugh when he wraps it around you two.

You get into bed naked together, and you breathe in the scent of his skin that’s already become so familiar and comforting. Before you can drift off to sleep, you call out his name softly.

“Yes, love?”

“You won’t hurt me, right?”

He feels his heart ache for you, for how right you deserve to be treated and for all the love he wishes he could’ve given you this whole time. “Never in a million years, Y/N.” That’s all you need to hear to fall asleep peacefully.

—

You wake up in the same position you had all these weeks ago, your back to Heeseung’s chest and his arm lazily over your waist, and it's the most perfect way to start off your day. Your mouth feels dry so you sit up, reaching for the bottle of water on the nightstand, but Heeseung’s arm around you tightens as he sleepily mumbles, “Stay here.”

You turn around to face him and press a kiss on the tip of his nose. “I just need some water, Hee.” He lets out a small groan but lets you go, and you gulp the water down.

“Should I go make us breakfast?” you ask even though you already know the answer.

“No,” he says, drawing out the vowel, “stay here. Come here.” He opens his arms wide, inviting you in his hold. You bury your face in the crook of his neck and you feel at home.

“Good morning, Y/N,” he says, hugging you tight to him.

“Good morning, Heeseung.”

“Hm, don’t call me Heeseung,” he whines. “Call me Hee. Like you did last night. I like it more.” You laugh at his cute behavior, making him whine even more. “Hey! Don’t laugh at me!” He starts tickling your sides and you laugh even more.

“Sorry! Sorry!” you say, trying to catch your breath. “Sorry, Hee.” He hums appreciatively and stops tickling you, kissing your forehead.

“Better?” you ask teasingly.

“Better,” he says just as his stomach starts growling, making you snort.

You give him a small tap on his butt, and, ignoring his whines, say, “C’mon, let’s have breakfast.” You manage to escape his grasp and rummage around his drawers, finding a t-shirt and pair of boxers of his for you to wear. He watches you get dressed with a lazy smile.

“Are you trying to get me hard again, baby?”

“No, I’m trying to make you get up so we can eat.”

“I can just eat you.” You grab a pillow from his bed to throw over his face, making him laugh. “Sorry, sorry,” he says between giggles, and gets up, grabbing clean clothes for himself.

You spend the day lazing around his apartment, fueling up on snacks and kisses from each other. You can barely keep your hands off of him; his skin is warm under your hands and you feel at peace when you can feel him against you. Sunghoon had never much liked skinship, and you’d always had to stop yourself from reaching out and touching him. But Heeseung melts under your touch every single time; he kisses your palm when you cup his cheek and caresses your hands when you wrap your arms around his middle from behind and strokes your hair when you rest your head against his shoulder. His moans and whimpers are the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard; you go down on him while you’re watching a movie and then again in the shower just to hear them over and over again. He eats you out like you’re dessert, telling you you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. When he spoons you on the couch, neither of you can keep it innocent for long before you ask him to cockwarm you, and he readily obliges, burying himself deep inside you.

“Y/N?” he calls out when you’re in that position, watching the nth movie of the weekend.

“Yes, Hee?”

“I’ve been thinking about that list. You know how ‘make him regret what he did’ is the last thing on the list?”

“Yeah, and we said that was already done, didn’t we?” you say, not really wanting to talk about anything related to Sunghoon anymore.

“Yeah. But I was thinking, the only way he’ll really regret it is when he sees how happy you are without him, don’t you think?”

“I guess…” you reply, curious as to what he’s getting at.

“Would you let me do that? Make you happy?”

You let out a small ‘oh’ at his words, and immediately feel tears welling in your eyes. It’s hard, wrapping your head around the fact that someone wants to be there for you and look after your happiness without asking for anything in return. “You already make me so happy, Hee.”

He giggles, burying his face in the crook of your neck and leaving a kiss there. “I do?” he asks, and you don’t know how he doesn’t see it.

“So much. And I want to make you happy, too.”

“You do that just by being here, lovebug. You don’t need to do anything else.” You take your hand up to your mouth and kiss him all over his fingers and palm.

“What should we tell people at work?” you ask, gently biting his knuckle to annoy him, but he just lets you, biting your neck in return.

“About what?”

“About us.”

“Us?”

“Yes?”

“Well, I think everybody already knows I’m in love with you. I was, well, still am, pretty obvious about it, so I’m not sure how you never saw it.”

“Sorry,” you say, kissing his knuckle in apology.

“It’s okay. What do you want to tell them?”

“I don’t know. Should we let them figure it out without saying anything?”

“Figure what out?”

“That we’re together.”

“We’re together?!”

“Of course we are!” you laugh, gently tapping his hand.

“You didn’t tell me that!”

“I thought it was obvious!”

He joins in your laughter. “We need to stop thinking we’re being obvious and just tell each other how we feel.”

“I agree. How do you feel?”

“I love you. How do you feel?”

You pause for a second, and because it feels right, and because it feels like the truth, you say, “I love you too.”

—

It takes Yuqi and Miyeon approximately two days to figure out that Heeseung and you are together. And once these two know, everybody in the office knows. To be fair, the two of you do try to keep things professional; it's not your fault that Yuqi walked in just as you placed a quick peck on Heeseung's cheek in the break room, or that he spends more time at your desk than usual, always pretending there's nothing he needs to talk to you about.

“The two of you are like Jim and Pam,” your manager complains jokingly when he walks past you.

Heeseung and you just exchange a knowing glance, trying not to burst into laughter in the middle of the office. You look at him and he looks at you, and you’ve never been happier.

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