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fleuryuns · 12 days ago

Text

presenting a fic by @FLEURYUNS

um... who is this?

IN WHICH after being dared to prank call one of the hottest sophomores on campus pretending to be a woman he met at a party, you're unexpectedly roped into the life of lee heeseung as you're forced to keep up the role.

PAIRING ⟡ player!heeseung x fem!reader

UNIVERSE ⨯ college/uni au

WARNINGS ⟡ fake dating au, but was it ever really fake?, prank calls, hot boy!heeseung except he’s actually a loser, one (1) suggestive scene, cursing, smidge of angst, jay’s highkey an asshole, depictions of smoking, depictions of drinking and doing drugs

WORD COUNT ⨯ 16.7k

AUTHOR'S NOTE . . . inspired by the one and only, francesca stugot

Contrary to popular belief, Truth or Dare doesn't stop being fun after middle school. If anything, with higher stakes and getting rid of the PG-13 limitations, the game only becomes more intense as you get older.

Or so that was how you explained it to your friends in hopes to convince them to play a few rounds instead of studying for your midterms. But hey, it worked.

You laugh and clap your hands as you watch Yunjin complete her dare. She's surprisingly good at juggling, if you ignore the two failed attempts splattered on the floor. Why did Ryujin have to suggest using eggs of all things is beyond you.

"Okay, okay!" Yunjin catches the last few eggs. "I'm done, my hands are covered in yolk. Ew!"

The other girls echo her cries as she runs off to the bathroom to clean it off.

"It's Y/N's turn!" Ryujin calls out. You playfully glare at her from your side, pretending as if you haven't been impatiently waiting for your turn since the last round.

You hear Yunjin agree from afar. She asks you the impending question: "Truth or Dare?"

"Dare."

"Ooh, I've got a good one~" Her sing-songy tone is never a good sign, but you're too giddy to care, even with the girls ooh-ing and ahh-ing at their own recognition of it.

When she finally comes back, her hands free from eggshells and yolk, all eyes are on her. She looks from side to side for dramatic effect. Yunjin leans in. So does everyone else. She opens her mouth as if she'll start to speak, but nothing comes out before she closes it again with a teasing smile. Everyone groans.

"Out with it!" You say, throwing your arms up for emphasis.

She laughs. "I dare you to prank call Lee Heeseung acting as if you're some girl he met at the party last Friday."

Your face drops.

The girls cheer.

"Oh my god!" You hear Yizhuo yell. "You're a genius!"

"I didn't even go, though," you protest.

Yunjin shrugs. "Makes it even better." Just as you're about to rebut, she raises a finger and interrupts. "Ah! And don't say you don't have his number 'cause I know you used to send him the notes when he missed class last semester." She holds up your phone tauntingly, and you can't help but wonder when she took it away from the speaker, where it was paired to your playlist.

Curse her and her impeccable memory.

"Urgh, fine!" You give in, extending your hand for your phone.

As you type away your passcode and scroll to find the phone app, you reluctantly punch in his name (simply saved as "Lee Heeseung (SNU)" — nothing crazy!) The girls giggle to themselves about the heartthrob since high school.

Everyone and their mother knows about Heeseung. Almost everyone and their mother has been with Heeseung. Yourself excluded, obviously. And, unfortunately for them, excluding most of the girls here, too.

Yizhuo had the grace to spend a night with him and “came back a woman”. (Her words.)

Now, she's scooting closer to you, leaning her ear near the phone you're bringing to your ear.

It rings. Ring!

Once. Ring!

Twice.

"What if he doesn't—"

"Hello," a groggy tone questions from the other side of the line.

The girls all fail to cover their squeals.

Heeseung makes a confused noise. "Um... Who is this?"

"Uh...." Your eyes widen. You didn't really think this far ahead, hoping deep down that he wouldn't pick up at all. Eyeing Yunjin, screaming "Help Me!" with your expression. "This is... Hana..."

"Hana?"

"Kang. Kang Hana," you clarified. "We met at the, uh, party last Friday. At Jay's."

There's a moment of silence through the phone. Then some shuffling noises from his side. You sit patiently waiting for his reaction.

"Kang Hana," he repeats slowly. You hum to him.

"Yeah, we had a good time together, didn't we?"

He pauses. "I guess? Can you remind me?"

You begin to tell a tale about your encounter, barely keeping track of the details, letting your imagination run wild, stopping to listen to Heeseung hum in hesitant confusion.

Kang Hana arrived last out of all guests, immediately running to the kitchen for her first drink of the night. Then, she found herself swaying to the music on the living room dance floor, where she met Lee Heeseung. He had his arms placed respectfully on her hips, letting her guide his moves. He whispered that they should get out of there. She agreed.

They spent an hour or two engaging in conversation about anything and everything on the front patio, ignoring the smokers around the corner.

Hana not only arrived late, but also had to leave early. And so, she left Heeseung stranded, left to drink his grief away in hopes of forgetting all about her.

Yizhuo leans a little too far, enjoying the story too much, her head knocking over your hand, making you both tip to the side. You let out a squeal into the phone.

"Woah!" Heeseung yelps, pulling his phone away from his ear. Or you suppose, hearing his voice fade a little in the distance. With the phone away from him, it's able to pick up on the surrounding sounds better, and you realize he isn't alone either.

"Who is it?" You hear from the phone. The voice sounds familiar and you can almost make it out. Must either be Sunghoon or Jay, his best friends, you assume.

Heeseung doesn't miss a beat before responding, "Y/N."

Your heart does a flip. Yunjin's eyes widen. Ryujin chokes on the juice box she'd been sipping on. Yizhuo is still lying on the floor, only her mouth is significantly more agape.

"You knew it was me?"

He chuckled. "Obviously," he says matter of factly. Heat rises to your cheeks. "Took me a second, I'm a little tipsy, haha."

"Oh." Your eyes dart to the girls again. "Am I interrupting?"

"You're never a bother, babe."

Babe? "Huh," you let out unintentionally.

The girls furrow their brows one by one. Although they probably can't hear every word, they can clearly hear the weird turn this conversation has taken.

"Are you with the girls?"

You shake your head in confusion. "Um, yeah, I am." You're still trying to figure out what he meant by the pet name.

"I don't want to keep you if you're having fun." The smile on his face is clear as day in his flirty tone. "Text me later though, okay?"

"Okay?" Slowly, you pull the phone down and end the call. The second it hits your lap, it buzzes again.

Ping! New message!

이희승 (SNU) Kang Hana? 23:04

"What was that about?" Ryujin asks.

You don't respond yet. Focusing on the typing bubbles at the bottom of yours and Heeseung's no-longer-blank messenger.

이희승 (SNU) ik you weren't at Jay's last week 23:04

ME and i know you don't call random people 'babe' ?? 23:05

이희승 (SNU) can i call you later? 23:05

ME i wasn't lying when i said i'm with my friends 23:05

ME tomorrow? 23:06

이희승 (SNU) let's meet up at the café on campus 23:07

"Hello, hello, Earth to Y/N?" Your head snaps up as you click off your phone. Yunjin waves her hand dramatically across your face to catch your attention. Ironically, it works. "You're still in there? Or did Hana take over?”

You blink up at her, then offer a small smile. “Sorry, that was weird,” you laugh. They all look at you expectantly, as if waiting for you to explain or give more details, but you’re not sure what to give them. “Alright, who’s next?”

You manage to drift the topic away from Heeseung and Kang Hana’s encounter. Yizhuo nearly fails her own dare, but succeeds in getting the neighbours number. After Ryujin answers her Truth (”If you had to kiss any of the girls in this room, who would it be?” “Well, I already have, but I’d say Y/N.”), you all decide to call it a night.

Ryujin and Yizhuo head out together; their rooms in the same dorm-building across the road. Meanwhile Yunjin begs to stay the night, opting to sleep on the floor because she can’t be bothered to pay for a cab ride to her apartment off campus.

Your thoughts keep coming back to Heeseung calling you babe, for some reason. Rubbing at your cheeks to snap yourself out of it, you sigh when you realize that it doesn’t do anything to help the blush that spreads further up your cheekbones to the tips of your ears the more you think about him.

Monday mornings have a bad reputation, and you completely understand why.

The sunlight creeps through a slip in your curtains and shines right in your eyes as you startle awake from a dream starring your party-animal alias and the campus heartthrob. Checking the time, you groan as the bright numbers ‘06:27’ glare back at you.

Your promise to a rendez-vous last night pushes you up and out of bed. You carefully side-step to not wake Yunjin, who’s still sprawled out on the floor.

You grab yourself some cereal and a cold glass of orange juice to fuel yourself before hopping into the shower. When you get out, it’s 6:44, a minute before your alarm rings loudly. You’re convinced everyone on this floor can hear it, but luckily you haven't gotten any complaints thus far.

Yunjin stirs finally. “Dude…”

“Wakey wakey, Sunshine,” you tell her, standing above her with a cheesy smile. “I have cereal and oatmeal.”

She rubs at her eyes, still laced with tiredness. “I’ll just grab something at the café after classes. I should get going, anyway.”

It doesn't take long for Yunjin to get dressed and leave the room promptly. She’s spent so many nights at your dorm that you took the time to clear up some space in the drawer for her stuff so she doesn’t need to rush out before even the sun’s awake.

When you’re left alone in your room, you pull out your phone again, the screen already opening into the chat room you visited last night.

ME what time do your classes end? just wanna know when i should get to the café 06:59

You wait. And wait. And wait some more for his response. You notice he hasn't even been online since you sent your message and decide to give him some more time.

Although he definitely has classes today, you assume, he might not be as much of an early riser like yourself.

In the meantime, you busy yourself with getting ready for your own classes. You pack your bag with all its supplies, checking your phone every so often, hoping to see it light up with a notification.

Ping!

All you can think is, “Finally,” but unfortunately when you pick it up, the notification reads: @jenaissante has made a new post!

“What am I doing?” you ask yourself out loud.

Since when do you sit and stare at your phone in hopes that some guy is going to answer you? How embarrassing.

You shake it off, grab your bag, and head out to your first class.

Walking down the comfortably silent hallways of your dorm building makes you think that out of everyone, you might be the only one awake. However, you stand corrected as you’re greeted with a door almost slamming you in the face.

Coincidentally, as the owner of said door says, “I’m so sorry!” and you respond, “It’s okay! I’m okay!” your phone buzzes in your pocket.

Nearly making your bag topple out of your hands as you reach for it, your shoulders relax when you see who the message is from:

이희승 (SNU) i hate mondays 07:33

You bid your goodbyes to the door-slammer.

ME good morning to you too 07:33

이희승 (SNU) 😑😑 07:34

이희승 (SNU) i don’t have classes today. when do yours end? 07:34

ME no classes and yet you're awake so early? i'm impressed lee heeseung 07:36

ME i have my 8AM that ends at 10, then a three hour gap until my next class 07:36

이희승 (SNU) oof three hours 07:36

ME i’m on campus so it's not too bad tbh 07:37

이희승 (SNU) 10 o’clock it is? 07:39

ME sounds good 07:40

You shut off your phone and look up to realize you've made it to the building.

You find it weird how easily you’re already getting distracted by Heeseung, even though you’ve barely interacted, much less talked in person since last semester when you shared a class.

Even then, neither of you ran in the same groups, so your conversations were very limited to assignments and bad-talking the professor.

Of course, you’ve heard a lot about him, but none of it ever involved you. At most Yizhuo was being very descriptive about her night with him, though even then—especially then—you didn't pay it or him much attention.

Deciding to push him out of your mind entirely, you pull out your laptop and set up your notes, waiting for the professor to arrive and start class.

After two long hours, you’re dismissed from class. You tell your professor goodbye and head for the door, but come to a stop when you see a familiar figure leaning against the glass on the other side. Taking quicker steps to come around, you meet face to face with Lee Heeseung.

“Hi,” he says calmly.

“What are you doing here?”

His smile falters. “I came to pick you up.”

Your eyes dart to both sides of the hallway, as if waiting for Yunjin or someone to pop out. “How did you know this is where my class is?”

For the first time in your life, you watch Heeseung lose his cool composure. He stumbles over his words before clarifying, “I asked around.”

You try not to think too hard on it, eyeing him suspiciously before humming. His shoulders relax and he claps his hands together before pivoting toward the stairwell.

“Shall we?” He turns to you, extending his arms as if he’s some royal guard leading the crown princess into a carriage.

“Yes, we shall.” You play along because what the heck. And his smile is worth it.

The two of you make your way down to the café just across campus, not really talking on your way there, but staying close. It’s not as if some sort of secret operation is going down, so neither of you make a move to act like you don't know each other.

Come to think of it, you really don't know what's the purpose of all the theatrics. He even opens the door for you when you get there. Has he always been a gentleman?

From what you’ve heard, Heeseung is a player through and through. Typical, textbook heartthrob who makes people fall for him, toys around with that idea, and then leaves them to pick themselves up. Or, he’ll spend one magical night with a random hookup he meets at one of the million parties his rich friends throw every weekend, only to leave them in the dirt in the morning.

(Literally. Stories went around about this one girl he hooked up with outside. She woke up in Sunghoon’s backyard with only her bra and panties on. Or so you’ve heard.)

He leads you to the counter where the barista takes your order quickly. Just as you're about to reach into your bag for your wallet, Heeseung waves his hand in front of you. “Don’t worry about it,” he says before taking out his card and paying before you can reply.

“Thanks.” You try to come up with something better, but run short. “I’ll pay next time,” you say before you can stop yourself.

“Next time,” he says with an unreadable tone.

You want to reply, but nothing comes out. Instead, your eyes drift back to the barista. You watch him prepare your drinks and you silently pray that he goes faster so you can move on.

Luckily, he listens. “Alright, one iced caffe latte with vanilla syrup, and one dark chocolate mocha for the couple.” The man makes a dramatic turn with the drinks, adding a theatrical wave of his hand to you two.

“Oh, we’re not—”

“Thank you,” Heeseung replies with a smile. He takes a hold of both drinks and motions for you to lead him to a table.

And so you do.

“So,” he says as he sits down. “Kang Hana—” A wink. Your drink is suddenly very interesting. “—I have a proposal for you.”

“Proposal,” you question, raising your cup along with your brow. You take a sip and set it back down. “Go on.”

He takes his own sip. For a moment, you watch him appreciate the taste. He closes his eyes for a fraction of a second in satisfaction, traces of the drink left on his lips. It takes everything in you not to reach over and wipe it yourself. So, you hand him a napkin.

He thanks you before proceeding. “Okay, fine, it's more of an ask rather than a proposal because you won’t technically—” He adds air quotes. “—be gaining anything out of this.”

Now you’re very curious. You let him speak.

“There’s this girl…” he starts. His eyes drift away to the other tables, almost trying to deduce if anyone would want to eavesdrop and spread gossip of what he says next. “I really like her.”

Oh god. You’ve heard this before. Usually it only happens by boy best friends, but basically complete strangers work too, you guess. You prepare yourself.

“And, I just don’t know how to tell her—”

“Listen, Heeseung,” you cut him off. “We barely know each other. I don’t think you’re really thinking this through. How can you even trust your feelings when you barely know me?”

He blinks at you. “What?”

Your heart drops. “You’re not confessing to me.”

Heeseung lets out a short breathy laugh. He awkwardly scratches the back of his neck and answers. “No… Not exactly.”

“Oh my god, this is so embarrassing.” You let your head drop into the palms of your hands, but when you feel his hand on your arm, you snap your head up.

He rapidly retracts his hand of reassurance and lets it float above your arm for a second. “No, no, that’s okay. Don’t be embarrassed,” he assures you, only with his hand now in his lap. “I’m actually a little embarrassed about what I’m trying to ask you—If you’re up for it!”

“Can’t be more embarrassing than I feel right now,” you reply between small sips of your drink.

“Can we date? Wait, this isn't a confession, I meant like can we fake date? Like date, but not actually date. Not that that would be an awful thing to do! I just like this girl and…” His eyes are comically large as he rambles the same reformulated question. The embarrassment slips away as you watch his cheeks redden. “If you’re comfortable,” he finishes more quietly.

You take a moment, both to see if he’s really done, but also to consider your options. “Why?”

“Right.” He nods. “So, as I was saying… There’s this girl I like, and I want to get closer to her and ask her out, but we’ve talked before and she hates that I’m—” More air quotes. “—A player.”

You raise your brow at his words. “Put down the air quotes, then we’ll be on the same page.”

He rolls his eyes imperturbably. “You know what I mean…”

“How would fake dating help you start actually dating? Sounds counterproductive ‘cause doesn't that just make you unavailable?”

“I want to prove to her that I’m more than just—” He waves his arms around to search for the word. “—more than just some guy that goes from girl to girl as if nothing.”

You nod. “But… Isn’t this, kinda, lying? Since you haven't actually been in a long term relationship.”

“I mean, yeah, if you think about it like that.” He takes a sip of his drink, and when his lips part from the straw, you notice he bite it as he drank. You shake your head. “I’m just showing her that I’m capable of being in a long term relationship. I’m a serious guy looking for something serious.”

The snort you let out is entirely accidental. He looks faux-offended as he wipes off the drops of your drink that fell out of your cup. “Sorry,” you say, also wiping your arm. “You’re a serious guy. For sure, for sure.”

“I am,” he protests. “I take things very seriously. Like this rendez-vous. I’m normally still in bed at this time.”

This catches your attention. “Wait, why did you get up so early though? We didn't have a set time ready, you could've slept in.”

He shrugs timidly. “I knew you mostly take morning classes, so I wanted to be up when you were…” His sentence goes quieter by the end of it, with no help from him reaching for another sip of his drink, which is practically empty at this point, so the tension in the air only grows thicker with the ear-piercing sounds of him drinking air through a straw.

“Oh,” you say slowly. “I stand corrected.”

He nods.

You bite your lip out of habit. “So, shouldn't we discuss the, like, rules to this… Scheme?”

“Wait, you’re gonna do it?” He seems genuinely surprised. And cutely excited.

“Yeah,” you shrug, trying to act nonchalant. “What’s there to lose, I guess. But—” You raise a hand. “We need to figure out these ground rules and I need to get something out of this.”

He agrees easily. And you settle on asking him to put in a good word to one of his friends, Jay, who happens to be the son of the man who owns one of the most respected law firms in the country—you want in on it.

“So, you’re going to be a lawyer?”

Heat rises to your cheeks bashfully. “Yeah, it’s always been my passion.”

Heeseung’s eyes widen in astonishment. “Does that mean I should be more careful with how we set this up? Should we sign a contract to make it official?”

You laugh. “Do you have a printer? We could write one up if you want.”

He plays along with the joke, which eventually leads to him opening his notes app and writing down the rules you settle on together:

You cannot tell ANYONE that this is a set-up. If [REDACTED] finds out it’s a lie, how is Heeseung supposed to find love 💔

Stick to the same story: We met last semester and have been keeping it lowkey. We got together during the break.

Hang out in public at least twice a week. (Heeseung will make plans to make sure his crush will see them.)

Hand holding is a must while out together.

No kissing. Not on the cheek, and not on the lips.

Y/N has to attend all some do you want to make a good impression or not FINE all of Jay’s parties.

Fake relationship must last AT LEAST two months. Further discussion of whether or not the (FAKE) relationship continues will take place then.

“Now…”

“What’s wrong?”

You watch Heeseung look from right to left, reaching down into his pockets for something, but he comes up with nothing. “How are you going to sign it?”

As unexpected as it is, you have to laugh. “Here, let me,” you respond between laughs, reaching out for his phone, which he hands you swiftly.

At the bottom of the page, you add:

I, Y/N L/N, accept these terms and conditions.

“Your turn.”

And he does the same with his own name.

I, Lee Heeseung, accept these terms and conditions.

“Perfect, so it’s settled.” He claps unceremoniously. “Here’s to the start of Kang Hana and Lee Heeseung’s fake relationship.”

He raises his cup toward you, and you get the memo to clink! your own against his. It’s silly considering they’re plastic cups that make nothing but a wsh! sound when bumped together, but the sentiment is there.

You spend a few more minutes sitting together in silence as you finish your drink.

You’re not sure why Heeseung hasn't left yet. Your business together is done for now, and he’s long finished with his own drink. You decide, however, that you’re glad he stayed.

As you’re stuck in thought, you don't notice that you're staring. You don't see the sly smile that creeps on his lips. And you certainly don't realize Yunjin is watching this scene go down from behind the window.

The front door’s bell snaps you out of your trance, when you finally feel the eye contact you're making with Heeseung. You pull your eyes away shyly, sipping on your drink until it bottoms out.

Unbeknownst to you, Yunjin makes her over to you and Heeseung with a confused expression painted over her features.

“Y/N,” she says. Your eyes widen at your friend leaning over the table to look at the two of you. “What’s going on here?” She teasingly points between you and Heeseung, wiggling her eyebrows all-knowingly.

Suddenly, you forget all your words.

Luckily, Heeseung smoothly takes the lead, already playing his role. “We’re on a date.”

This takes Yunjin by surprise, if her gasp paired with widened eyes says anything. “A date?”

“Yeah,” he says, drawing out the syllable. He looks at you with telling eyes, as if asking if you want to add on. You slightly shake your head only for him to see. “We were actually just finishing up. Right?”

Your cue. “Right, yeah.” You clear your throat awkwardly.

Yunjin raises her hands defensively. “Well, I don’t want to interrupt any more than I already have… So, you two have fun….” She leans over to whisper into your ear. Heeseung raises a brow from his side, but turns away to pretend he isn’t listening to it. “You’ll have to tell me all about this later.”

She bids you goodbye and makes her way to the counter, making no effort in acting as if she’s not staring at your table, watching your every move, as if to assess the situation.

Your hand comes up to the side of your face to subtly cover your mouth from her prying eyes. “We should really get out of here.”

Heeseung nods. “Slowly, we don’t want her to think anything.”

“Is it really so important to keep it from my best friend, though?”

“Yes!” Heeseung says in a whisper-yell. He smiles over to Yunjin who’s blissfully unaware of his outburst, probably thinking the two of you are joking around. Turning back to you, his voice lowers. “We can’t let anyone know the truth, not right now.”

You wonder what you’re getting yourself into now that it’s in play.

He ends up walking you back to your dorm, making his way into the building and all the way to your floor, walking you to your door, even after you insist he doesn’t have to. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t make sure you got back safely?”

“Fake-boyfriend,” you point out.

He nods. “Fake.”

While opening the door, you have a weird urge to ask if he wants to stay for a little. You brush off the feeling and turn back to him. “See you…” You stray, not really sure when you’ll see each other.

“Tomorrow,” he finishes. “For our first official date. Fake date.”

You nod your head, and that’s it. He walks backward into the hall, waving to you, before he turns to watch where he’s going. You only wave back when his back is turned.

Too caught up in whatever the hell you’ve agreed on, you spend the rest of the day burying yourself in studies. Midterms are around the corner, so may as well get some work done now. You also can’t bear to spend another minute with Heeseung’s stupidly pretty face, and smile, and everything stuck in your head.

Throughout the afternoon, then into the evening, your phone buzzes over and over again. You don’t even bother checking in fear that it’s Heeseung.

When you head off to bed, you quickly scroll away from your notifications and open Yunjin’s chat, where you see she’s been spamming you pretty much until you passed out. You note the time and feel the relief wash over you as you realize she must already be asleep by now. You start typing away.

ME i’ll tell you everything tmrw 01:47

ME meet me at the quad in the morning 01:47

As opposed to Monday mornings, Tuesdays have a different, much more optimistic air. It’s as if everyone’s realized that maybe this week won’t be so bad, so might as well put on a smile before heading to classes.

You don’t have early classes today, so you head down to the quad as promised, a knot forming in your stomach on your way.

There’s nothing you hate more than keeping things from your friends, especially Yunjin. Trust is something you really value in your friendship, as you’re both very open with each other, this feels like breaking it, even though it isn’t necessarily a bad lie to tell.

Taking a deep breath, you convince yourself that it’s for a good cause and she’ll understand once you tell her the truth.

You’re surprised not only by the fact that Yunjin is already sitting at one of the tables, wide awake and ready to hear your tale, but also the fact that she is with company: Yizhuo and Ryujin, respectively.

“Well, well, well,” she says with jokingly menacing crossed arms. She adds to the character a dubious expression. “What do we have here? Lee Heeseung’s girlfriend?”

Yizhuo laughs. “Are you serious? When were you going to tell us?”

From the other side of the table, Ryujin adds on. “Yeah, this seems like a pretty big deal!”

You sit down next to Ryujin, facing Yunjin’s excitedly curious eyes. She leans over the table and grabs your hands. “Tell. Us. Everything,” she enunciates every word for emphasis.

“Um,” you start oh-so confidently. You think back to the contract you “signed” and the storyline you decided with Heeseung. “I’ve been, kinda, seeing Heeseung since October—”

“October!?” Yizhuo yells. “Why’ve you been keeping this from us?!”

“We wanted to keep it lowkey before we decided if we were really serious about this.” The lies slip off your tongue easily, but they leave a bitter aftertaste. “I was talking with him about telling you guys, at least, right when Yunjin walked in on us.”

Ryujin raises a brow. “Walked in on you? Were you…?”

You slap her arm playfully. “Nothing like that, nothing like that! I meant at the café yesterday.”

“We’ve never even seen you two together… How lowkey were you keeping it?”

Yunjin looks at you expectantly. You avoid direct eye contact, afraid she’d be able to see the truth through your eyes. “We text a lot and facetime pretty much every night,” you explain, hoping it’s convincing. “And he’d sometimes come over, but we always made sure none of you would find out.” You make sure to slip in an apology at the end of the statement.

Yizhuo’s the one to wave her arm and deny your apology. “Girl, you got yourself a man, how could we be mad at you?” Her eyes widen in realization. “The prank call, oh my God!”

“Yeah, that took some explaining… But he thought Kang Hana was pretty funny.”

“Speak of the devil,” Yunjin teases, nodding her head behind you.

You turn around and lo and behold is Lee Heeseung himself, followed by Park Sunghoon and Park Jay. If this were a 90s romcom scene, their walk would be in slowmo, the camera would pan to girls and boys fanning themselves as they walk by, some would be fainting in their path. Sunghoon would have to step over someone’s unconscious body, Jay would pick a rose from the bush and hand it to one of his followers and they would blush until their whole face is as red as a tomato.

Instead, they’re walking at a regular pace, but you notice the way seems to run through their hair perfectly. That’s what you get when you’re jaw-droppingly attractive, you think. And then you furrow your brows at your thoughts.

When the boys get closer, Heeseung smiles. “Hi, you.”

“Hi,” you say in return. Your heart beats faster.

“So,” Jay, the one on his left, says. “You’re Y/N.”

You nod. “Nice to meet you—”

“Y’know, it’s funny ‘cause Heeseung never mentioned you?” The question throws you off, more than the smile he has plastered on his face. “Keeping it hidden from us like we’re Dispatch, or something.”

Heeseung places his hand on Jay’s shoulder, taking the lead. He sends you a reassuring look before speaking. “It was my idea, mostly,” he explains. “Let’s not take it out on my girl.”

My girl. You smile shyly.

Addressing your friends, Heeseung smiles politely. “It’s nice to meet you all.”

“You too,” Ryujin says.

“You better be treating her right,” Yunjin says teasingly, but with a touch of seriousness, if you know her right.

Heeseung raises his arms defensively. “She’s the one to decide on that front.”

You laugh. He’s really good at this. “Don’t worry guys, he’s been good to me.”

The two of you share a moment in silence, just watching each other. Heeseung’s the first to break it, not necessarily looking away, but ending your silent conversation. “I take it you dressed for our date, right?”

You blink at him in confusion. “Where are we going?”

“So you really didn't see my text?” He pouts. You’re almost convinced he means it. Wow, I’m going to have to step up my game.

“Sorry, I was really busy studying, I shut off my phone for the day after you left.”

He tuts at you jokingly. “Well, I guess it’ll have to be a surprise.” He extends his arm and offers you his hand. Automatically, you take a hold of it, letting him pull you up in the process. Heeseung turns to your friends and smiles politely. “Again, it was nice to officially meet you all, I’ve heard so much. And—” Facing his friends, he says: “I’ll text you later.”

Then, you’re off, holding hands as he leads you to the parking lot.

The car ride isn’t too long, luckily. You find yourself anticipating what Heeseung has planned, only for you to crush that anticipation when you remember what this is all for.

Her, not you.

Although, you still don’t know who she is.

“Will you ever tell me who this girl is?” you ask as he takes another turn, arriving in a parking lot. Finally in view, you realize you’re at Plus One Games as you watch the big, bold glowing sign. “The arcade?”

“She works here,” he says, promptly ignoring your first question. He pops the keys out of the ignition and turns to you. “Are you ready?”

You hum and the two of you make your way to the comically large front doors. He holds it open, and you thank him as you walk past him, staring in awe at the decor.

Plus One Games is known for its grandeur in the gaming world. You didn’t grow up in these areas, but you’ve heard all about it. It’s expensive and you wonder how Heeseung is able to afford it—He must really like this girl.

The lobby is decorated like a gameboard, the stands where the employees greet the customers resembling game pieces, meanwhile there are signs pointing in every direction to where you may want to go, which look like signs straight out of a Super Mario Bros game.

Unbeknownst to you, you begin to wander while you’re looking at the set-up of the entrance, entranced by the level and precision of the design. Heeseung notices, however, and grabs ahold of your hand, spinning you on your heels and leading you to the cloakroom.

“Can’t let you get lost,” he teases, his head nodding to your hand in his which he raises to eye level.

You flush in your spot, unable to get yourself to pull your hand away.

After depositing your coats and changing into the shoes the staff hand the two of you by the door, you’re quick to let Heeseung guide you through the games and stations. He clearly has a map set up in his mind by the way he easily glides through the place, your hand still tightly in his hold.

He brings the both of you to the bumper cars first, wearing a cheeky grin as he handsomely gestures for you to step into the rink before him. To play along, you bow gratefully like an heiress guided by her guard. He laughs, placing a hand by your lower back to help direct you.

How could someone forget how fun bumper cars are? Because now you’re reminded of the joys of ramming your rubber-ringed play car into the people around you. Luckily, it’s not too crowded, so you have plenty of room to strategically avoid Heeseung’s attempts to knock you over, only to turn around and get him instead.

You’re full of laughter, and so is he. In fact, his face is completely red and you can only assume that yours is a similar shade.

Your laughter doesn’t even die down when the dispiriting buzzer sounds in the mini-arena, prompting the cars to stop in their place and the employee to safely instruct you and the other customers on how to get out.

“So, where to next?” Your smile transcends into your words, but you don’t care enough to be self-conscious about it.

Heeseung pretends to be in deep thought, plastering a dramatic pout of curiosity. “Where to… Where to…” he repeats. He lifts a finger in the air in perfect timing with the music blaring through the speakers above. You laugh at the movement. “Let’s try to win some prizes, hm?”

You assume this is probably some kind of way for him to say that the girl he likes is working the counter. Either way, you agree.

“Ice ball,” he suggests.

“I’ll have you know—” You flick your hair behind your shoulder for character. “—I’m kind of a pro at this.”

He raises his brow. “Oh, are you?”

Instead of responding, you grab the keycard and swipe it across the gamepad, watching as the game’s sign lights up as it starts up. Balls roll out from the dispenser and you grab your first one. You pretend to give it a kiss before rolling it up.

It does not go on.

Heeseung laughs.

You clear your throat and try again. The second does not go in.

Nor does the third. Or the fourth.

“Maybe I should try,” Heeseung proposes playfully.

“Fine,” you grumble, though not seriously. You go on to say he has no shot, the game is rigged and—

His first try goes in.

And his second. Then his third.

The game rings “Winner! Winner!” and tickets begin pouring out of the gamepad.

Heeseung ends up beating you in every game you play, always winning a ridiculous amount of tickets or a silly prize that comes with it. Pinball, mini-basketball, Spin-It-To-Win-It, you name it. He even beats the claw machine which is famously rigged in these kinds of places. You suggested it just to see Heeseung lose, yet here he is flaunting his little stuffed turtle he pulled out of it.

He waves the turtle in your face and you swat it away from you. “Aw, c’mon, Y/N, you don’t want Mr. Turtle?”

“You named him Mr. Turtle,” you deadpan.

He smiles cheekily. “It’s a fitting name.” He then takes your hand by the wrist, flipping it over so your open palm faces upward. Gently, Heeseung places Mr. Turtle into your hand, closing your fingers around it. “Here, you can have him.”

As much as you want to keep up your stingy role of a sore loser and throw it back at him, you shyly thank Heeseung for the gesture and place Mr. Turtle comfortably against your bag, so he can look out into the world without you needing to worry about him falling off because he’s safely attached to the strap.

After a match of laser tag—which you end up winning with Heeseung because you were against another couple—a couple of PEOPLE!—and then racing up to the top of the rock climbing wall, you grab a couple slices of pizza together and call it a day.

The pizza is greasy and frankly a little gross, you’re convinced it’s leftovers from yesterday, but it’s just what you need.

Heeseung comes back to the table with two bottles of pop. “Which one?” He raises both for you to see your options. You point to the red one, probably some off-brand strawberry or raspberry flavoured soda, and he passes it to you.

Chugging down the mystery drink, you find yourself content with the day's events.

When you get to the car, Heeseung holds the door open for you once again. You thank him quietly, getting in at the same time. You force your head down to stop yourself from watching as he makes his way around to his side.

It’s silent for a moment as he turns on the ignition and pulls out of the parking spot. The way he places his hand against the back of your seat, his arm in full view, makes your heart stutter. You take a second to compose yourself.

“So.” You look up at Heeseung with telling eyes and a teasing smile. “Did you see her?”

His mouth opens in a mute ‘ah,’ but he shakes his head, keeping his gaze on the road ahead. “I guess she wasn’t working today.”

And honestly, you can’t even be mad about it because it went so well. You tell yourself this is just a stepping stone in the fake relationship. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

He drives you back to campus and follows you all the way to the building before you tell him he doesn’t need to come up with you. Although he tries to push it, it’s hard to ignore how tired he is from the way he drawls.

As you walk back into your dorm, you’re greeted with your phone buzzing to infinity with messages from the girls’ group chat. You laugh at their bickering as they wait for your updates and you almost opt to stay silent to see how far it goes.

The following days go on similarly. Between hanging out with your friends, attending classes and studying for midterms, you’re going out on dates with Heeseung. Fake dates, but you soon learn he’s a really good actor.

Then you update the girls on the happenings of the date, steadily avoiding the parts hinting at your deal.

Your first date following the arcade is at the library. At first, you don’t see how Heeseung would consider this a date, until he shows up at your dorm with roses and chocolates. “Bring these with you,” he says. “She should be studying there for another hour, or two if she’s really into it.”

You abstain from commenting on the fact that if she’s “really into it,” is he even sure she’ll notice either of you, because you’re in need for a good study session with a friend, and as much as you love your friends, they have a hard time focusing when you’re all together.

It’s nice. Heeseung is as hard of a worker as you remember from the previous semester. Every now and then, you’ll look up and find his eyebrows furrowed at the paper in front of him, so you ask to help him out if you can. He does the same to you, you realize. As you look down at your notes, biting your lip at the same phrase you’ve been staring at for a while now, Heeseung taps the table right in front of your book with his pencil. “Need any help?”

You only remember once he brings you back to your dorm that you never asked about the girl. You’re not even sure if she was there since he didn’t say anything.

Yizhuo is offended that you find your girls-only study sessions unhelpful. Ryujin playfully slaps her shoulder.

For another date, he takes you to the movies.

“And this is helpful… how exactly?”

He shrugs and raises a hand to sheepishly scratch the back of his neck. “I may have told her I wanted to see the movie. And then I may have panicked buying them in front of her, I don’t want to risk her seeing me bring someone else when I said I’d bring you.”

“This could’ve been your chance to invite her to the movies!”

“And make her think I’m a cheater?” He shakes his head twice. “Besides, this is what we’re fake dating for. You and I can still go as fake-boyfriend and fake-girlfriend, if you don’t mind.”

Of course you don’t mind.

The movie is okay. It’s not really your style, nor is it Heeseung’s, if his distasteful grimace as he’s walking out of the cinema says anything.

“You didn’t like it,” you tease with fake concern.

He looks like a deer caught in headlights. “No,” he defends. He even raises his hands to wave them around as he searches the air for an explanation. “It was—You know—When they—Right?”

You laugh and place your hand on his shoulder. “I’m kidding. I didn’t really like it either.”

Heeseung places his own hand on top of yours and you feel your heart stutter. In a panicked moment, you try to rip your hand away, but it gets caught in his shirt, so you have to awkwardly pull it out from underneath.

Yunjin asks you about the movie itself, and you can’t seem to remember much about it besides Heeseung’s face at the end of it.

One of your favourite—fake—dates with Heeseung is when he takes you rollerblading. (You never ask how this is related to the girl he’s trying to impress. What? You’ve always wanted to go rollerblading.)

You both invite your friend groups and get to see them bond, which is both weird and endearing.

Yunjin holding onto Sunghoon and Ryujin’s hands for dear life as they’re the only two that are decent at roller skating and she’s on the verge of face planting whenever she steps on the rink on her own.

On the other hand, Yizhuo and Jay are equally bad. Yizhuo has horrible coordination and Jay… just can’t move. He can’t even take a step forward, just waves his arms around as if he’s swimming and it’ll somehow propel him. So, Yizhuo just keeps magnetically crashing into him, causing them both to fall down and need to recalibrate themselves from the boards.

Heeseung is a champion at it, as anyone would’ve expected. Though, he falls back to follow your pace, which is slow, but not agonizingly so, or so you hope.

You haven’t had the chance to go rollerblading in a while, and you end up tripping up over your own feet. Luckily, Heeseung is still there by your side to hold you so you don’t fall.

“Thanks,” you say to him, harshly gripping onto his arm to make sure you don’t.

At the end of the night, when your friends have already called it in, catching an uber or taking their own cars back, you and Heeseung stay a little while longer.

You’re sitting by the bleachers on the outside of the rink, Heeseung still freely skating on his own. He’s skating much faster, now, you notice. And he’s doing it with a big smile on his face which you can’t help but mirror when you’re watching him.

Later on, you notice he wears the same, but more subtle smile when he’s with you in the car, laughing and chatting while music blares from the speakers and the windows are rolled all the way down.

After a few weeks of date after date, midterms come up.

You and Heeseung made an agreement not to go out during this time. It gives the both of you time to recharge and focus on studying. It’d be useless to go out anyway, since his girl would probably be doing the same, you think but avoid saying.

When you make the modifications to your arrangement, you assume this means less frequent texting or calls, but those stay the same. Heeseung texts you good morning and is the last to say good night before you fall asleep, just as he’s been doing the past few weeks. You come to think that you’ve become really good friends over this time together.

You also assumed this would give you a break from acting like a couple, but Heeseung once again has other plans.

One afternoon when you don’t have classes, someone knocks at your door.

Normally, if someone’s at the door without texting you beforehand, it means it’s just another one of those door-to-door students campaigning for whatever new project they’ve come up with. Or, occasionally, it’s your next-door neighbour who’s going to warn you about being loud while working on their next project, whatever it is they’re doing.

This time, however, you’re met with a bouquet of flowers and an otherwise empty hallway. The bouquet comes with a note, that reads:

Good luck on your midterms! My two-lips will be ready to reward you once they’re over… (Sorry, Sunghoon told me to write a pun.) (Fuck why’d I write it in pen? There aren’t even tulips in this bouquet???) (This is from Heeseung BTW)

You laugh at the extra scribbles and smudged half-written words on the rest of the paper.

And it’s like magic, the way his words encourage you to keep studying, keep working harder. You pass your midterms with flying colours.

Heeseung invites you to the café on campus to celebrate, and said you needed to discuss something. When you arrive, your chocolate mocha is already sitting in front of him, on the opposite side of the booth.

He smiles when he sees you come up. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you say back. “So, what did you want to tell me?”

“Well, first—” He raises his cup. “To passing midterms!”

You clink yours to his, smiling. “To passing midterms!” You both take a sip of your drinks before setting them down and looking at each other intently.

“So,” he says firmly. “I still haven’t given you your end of the deal.”

That’s right. You agreed on this whole shenanigan as long as he gives you an in on the Park family business. If you’re truly willing to become a lawyer, getting Jay to give you a good word to his father would mean a lot of doors opening, some that you’d never open otherwise.

It’s funny that something so big and important to you slipped your mind over these past few weeks.

Then you remember how you’ve discussed this would be happening. “There’s a party?”

Heeseung nods into his drink, getting a bit of foam on his upper lip. You almost lean over the table to wipe it off yourself, but instead you hand him a napkin, avoiding his eyes as you laugh nervously. “Thank you,” he whispers. Once the napkin’s down, he returns to business. “Tomorrow night at Jay’s actually. His dad won’t be there, unfortunately for you and fortunately for, like, everyone else attending.”

You nod. “So, this’ll be our first big event as a, albeit fake, couple?” Nerves begin to feed in your stomach and suddenly you’re not so thirsty. Your hands naturally start fidgeting with your cup.

The last time you went to one of the campus parties was the first week in the new year, last semester. You remember it all too well, meaning not at all. You’ve never been the best at calculating your tolerance, but that time you really went overboard.

For one, it’s embarrassing, but you also don’t want to do anything with Heeseung.

“Yeah,” Heeseung agrees nonchalantly, but he leans lower in concern, looking to meet your eyes. “But it’ll be okay, just like any of our other dates. Fake dates. Just pretend that you’re the infamous Kang Hana.” Then he adds: “But don’t be late this time.”

There he goes, making you laugh so easily.

Over the next few minutes, you agree that Heeseung will pick you up and drive the both of you to Jay’s not too early, but not too late. Jay isn’t big on wanting his friends to help him set-up, so he’s fine with whenever they decide to show up.

And when you do, you’re struck by awe, your mouth hanging agape at the… everything.

You’ve known Jay was rich, but you never considered he’d be this rich.

The black front gates leading up to a long driveway. The pillared entrance archway. The enormous garden wrapping around the household. The fountain. The white walls which are interrupted by full length windows looking into the modernly decorated mansion.

Jay stands by the door holding a blunt. Wispy smoke draws circles in the air as he exhales. “Look who it is,” he says with open arms, tossing the rest of his joint to the ground.

The boys dab each other up and Jay nods his head at you as a greeting. A chill passes through your body. You hug your body tighter underneath your jacket.

Heeseung places his hand comfortingly on your waist, pulling you closer to him so he can whisper in your ear. “If you want to leave, just say the word.” And when you shake your head, he leans in again. “Are you ready, Kang Hana?”

You decide that you are.

The party is nothing remarkable.

As promised, Heeseung makes sure to give you a chance to talk with Jay and perhaps get an ‘in’ on his father’s company. It seems to go well enough, although Jay mostly just agrees with what you’re saying, trying to move on from the topic of his dad and law.

But other than that, it’s just like any of the other parties that you’ve been to with your friends.

Music. People making out in every corner. Loud music. Couples dragging each other upstairs not-so-secretly. Decent food, despite Heeseung telling you about Jay’s personal chefs being top tier. And did you mention agonizingly loud music?

You still manage to have some fun with your fake-date, though.

The one thing that really stands out is the fact that most girls are keeping their respectful distance from Heeseung.

Usually, he would be surrounded by a dozen, at least. A couple hanging off his arms, some standing behind him, others even kneeling in front of him. They create an entourage around him like he’s some king they worship, and yet today you don’t even see a speck of that lifestyle.

It dawns on you that word really did get around about you and Heeseung.

You even lean in to tell him this much. “Your girl definitely knows,” you tell him. “Is she here?”

Heeseung looks around almost half-interestedly in the others, turning back to you with a smile. “No, I don’t think so,” he says, but he doesn’t sound too bummed out. Maybe it’s the drinks. “Do you want another drink?”

Only later on do you realize you really haven’t learned your lesson on your tolerance.

After your probably fifty-something-eth song on the dance floor, Heeseung calls it quits, having drank just as much, but clearly being able to hold himself together better.

He bids goodbye to his friends, letting you wave at them in your drunken state and gets you in the car to drive you back.

You stumble into Heeseung’s arms as you make your way out of the elevator on your floor. “Oops,” you laugh.

He makes a nervous sound before adjusting his arms to hold you properly with his hand holding onto your waist. “We’re almost there, Y/N,” he whispers, gently tugging you forward on your wobbling legs.

However, he freezes in his tracks when he’s met with your friends waiting by your door.

“Oh,” Yunjin says. “We thought—”

“God, we thought she died or something, she wasn’t answering our texts,” Yizhuo interrupts. “Are you guys gonna…”

“No, no,” Heeseung answers quickly, waving his free hand. “I was just making sure she made it safely back to her dorm.”

You cheer out of the blue, just glad to be there.

Heeseung reaches into your jacket pocket for your keys, the jingling sound making you laugh some more. He tosses the keys to Ryujin. “Here,” he says. “I’ll just bring her to bed—Uh! Not like that, I meant, like, make sure she sleeps.”

Yunjin shakes her head reassuringly. “Here, let me take her. We’ll take care of her, if you don’t mind.”

He doesn’t respond for a second, turning to look at you. The drunk-flush on your cheeks makes your eyes pop, he notices. Unknowingly, a soft smile creeps up on his lips. “Sure, sure,” he eventually says.

When he’s out of sight down the hall, the girls tug you into the room. They bring you to bed, helping you kick off your shoes and take off your jacket, but not bothering changing your clothes—who knows what kind of a struggle that would be.

The process proceeds in a comfortable silence, but not for you. You’re itching to speak, say anything. Something about the drinks in your system makes you feel chatty, so you say the first thing on your mind. “Heeseung’s so pretty.”

“I hope you think so,” Ryujin jokes. “He’s your boyfriend.”

You laugh, turning over to face away from the girls. “No he’s not.”

“Yes, he is,” Yunjin reassures, trying her best to get the blanket over your body to properly tuck you in, but you keep rolling away from her touch.

Watching you shake your head back and forth, Yizhuo curiously pushes. “What do you mean he’s not your boyfriend?”

“It’s just, like, a scheme,” you whisper the last word mischievously, wearing a cunning smile and waving your hands mysteriously. Laughing to yourself, it takes you a moment to notice your friends’ confused expressions when you look over at them again. “What?” You look up at them with a dazed smile.

“So… You and Heeseung,” Yunjin starts with furrowed brows, trying to assess the situation. “You’re not even dating?”

“Nope!” you say with a laugh, enunciating the ‘p’ with a pop of your lips.

From behind you, Yizhuo lets out a sigh of relief.

This time, Yunjin frowns at her. “What’s that about?”

“Sorry, sorry,” she says hurriedly. “It’s just that if Y/N and Heeseung were actually dating, the whole reveal would’ve been really awkward.”

“What reveal,” you ask.

She pulls her lips in, suppressing a laugh, before waving her hands and starting to confess. “So, remember how I said I slept with Heeseung at a party last semester?” Memories of her flaunting her newfound womanhood and maturity swarm your mind. You nod, yeah, I remember. “Well—” She tilts her head guiltily. “I lied.”

You blink slowly at her. Once, and twice, before shaking your head out of pure confusion. “Wait, what? Why would you lie about that?”

Yizhuo looks over at Ryujin and Yunjin as if they’ll help her. From the less than expressive faces, you can tell they already knew. She scratches the base of her neck awkwardly. “I don’t know, I guess for status, or whatever.”

This sobers you up instantly. “Status? Like sleeping with Heeseung’s some kind of badge you get to wear around?”

She laughs nervously. “Well, no. But like, I don’t know, Y/N, I was just fucking around. I told you guys that when I was, like, really high.”

“Doesn’t excuse the fact that you’re treating him like some kind of object?” You’re always one to try to see the best in a person, in a situation, but you really can’t find it in yourself to defend Yizhuo right now. “He’s not just some fuckboy, Ning, he’s sweet, and kind, and cares about the little things, and—”

“So, you do like him?”

You sputter confusedly. “What are you even talking about?”

She stares at you dumbfoundedly. “You like him. You’re, you’re defending him,” she explains matter of factly. “Do you know how many girls he’s hurt ‘cause of his little hobby of hooking up and leaving them in the dust?”

“That has nothing to do with what we’re talking about. Admit it, Ning, you fucked up.”

She raises her arms defensively. “Fine! Maybe I did! But so did he. Multiple times with so many people. It’s weird that you’re on his side with this.” Sighing, she rolls her eyes. “Fine, I’m sorry for what I lied about when I wasn’t right in the fucking head, if that’s what you want to hear.”

You truly don’t know what’s gotten into her, but you also can’t be asked to bother caring. “Real mature,” you deadpan, realizing that that in itself is immature, too. “Get out of my room.”

She doesn’t even say anything to you. Just rolls her eyes again, mutters under her breath and tells the other girls they can come over to her place if they want. Yizhuo leaves with her jacket over her shoulder, not looking back.

“Go after her, it’s fine,” you tell Ryujin and Yunjin.

“Y/N—”

“Just go.”

They file out of the room in a hurry, and only when the door shuts do you let your tears of frustration fall. You slide down to the floor and cry into the palms of your hands with your knees up to your chest.

You’ve never had a fight like this with your friends. Sure, you’ve argued every now and then about stupid things, but something that left your chest heaving? All of this over a boy?

Your hands shake as you reach for your phone, your finger gliding past the group chat and your private messages with the girls—tempted to call them again, but you refuse—rushed to find the contact you've gotten so familiar with.

The line rings a few times, before you hear the click!.

“Y/N? Is everything okay?” His voice is laced in concern, which warms your heart. And when you tell him you want to see him, he doesn't ask questions and simply tells you: “I’m on my way.”

Heeseung gets to your dorm surprisingly fast.

Then he reveals that he never left the parking lot, not specifying why, and you’re blushing all over. You avoid eye contact, but he reads it as you avoiding the topic.

He tells you as much that you don’t need to go into detail if you don't want to, simply promising to be here. “It’s been a long night, you should rest.”

You lay down in bed, lifting the covers as an invitation.

He lays down next to you. “Is this okay?” And all you can do is nod.

Your curtains are ajar, you notice, watching the way the moonlight traces Heeseung’s features. His eyes shine in the dark, but yours drift down to his glistening lips.

He lightly bites his lower lip as he holds a strong gaze on your face, studying.

Just when you think he’s about to lean in and close his eyes, Heeseung surprises you with a whisper. “I think we should go to sleep.”

Disappointment runs through your body, but you agree nonetheless.

Your dreams are plagued by the shadow of a touch and big brown eyes.

The following morning, the first thing you think is, “I slept next to Hee—Ow, my head hurts really bad?!”

You groan as you push the blankets on the side, when you notice the other half of the bed is empty. The sight of it makes you frown, but then you hear rustling the bathroom and you let out a sigh of relief.

“You’re up?” Heeseung peers his head around the corner of the bathroom. His hair drips onto the flooring and evaporated hot water trails behind him. “I hope you don't mind. I took a shower.”

Not finding the words, you wave it off. Shaking your head proves to be a bad idea because you’re left clenching in your fists from the pain.

Heeseung frowns. “Headache?” When you nod, he points to your side table. “I left a glass of water—I hope you don't mind I took it from your filter—and an ibuprofen—which I took from your cabinet, I really hope you don’t mind.”

“It’s okay, Heeseung,” you tell him quietly, wearing a pained, but genuine smile. “I really appreciate it, thank you.”

He smiles shyly before returning to the bathroom. And then it dawns on you that he might not have been wearing clothes during your exchange. Your face flushes, again.

When he leaves the bathroom, it’s your turn to freshen up. You try not to think about it too much.

“What should we have for breakfast?” he asks casually, sitting by your desk and is still working hard at drying his hair.

Your eyes are stuck on Heeseung’s movements. The way he fiddles with the towel to dry his hair, his face scrunching as he swipes rapidly. You smile in silent laughter at his cute expression, but you don't say anything about it.

“I’m really craving a croissant.”

That’s how you find yourself, hands inching away from Heeseung’s as you walk, making your way down to the café.

He tells you to find your regular table, assuring you that he’ll order. There’s no point in protesting, plus your headache still hasn't completely dissipated, so you willingly agree.

It only takes a few minutes for him to come back with a caffe latte and a dark chocolate mocha as per usual, as well as two croissants in paper bags.

“How’d you know I wanted a dark chocolate croissant,” you ask, peering into its bag. It’s glorious, you note, taking it out, careful not to spill the freshly drizzled still-hot chocolate.

Heeseung shrugs. “You’re always ordering the dark chocolate mocha, so I figured you'd like it on your croissant, too. It’s good right?”

You nod and hum into your food as a response, too enthralled by the taste and Heeseung’s attention to detail.

Your outing together goes well, as they always have.

He doesn't bring up your tear-stained cheeks from last night or the sudden call, to which you’re glad. The conversation is light, but natural. Every now and then, he makes you laugh and forget all about last night's events—almost all of them. Lingering at the back of your mind is the moonlight across his face, his soft lips and the feeling that you imagined when looking at them; the feeling of them pressing against your own.

Heeseung insists on walking you back to your dorm, again. You’ve learned by now that it's useless to argue with him, as stubborn as he is. “It’s on my way,” he lies. “Really, it's for me, mostly.”

That second statement is less of a lie, you can tell.

“After you,” he says, gesturing toward the elevator.

You lean against the elevator wall, closing your eyes. “I’m so tired,” you say with a muffled voice.

After pressing the button to your dorm with no hesitation, Heeseung’s eyes darken with a serious air. “Are you sure you're okay?” He’s not really asking about right now, more so about everything that happened last night. Everything he doesn't know about.

You’re afraid of admitting to him that you drunkenly spilled the truth to all of your friends, and caused a fight because of it. Not to mention he was the center of it.

Internally, you decide not to tell him about Yizhuo’s damage. That’s something between her and him, and you're not going to push it onto either of them.

“You can trust me—” Then, he reassures. “Only if you're comfortable.”

You are. So, you start to put together how you’ll tell him in your head, but your thoughts are interrupted by a loud—

THUD!

“What was—”

THUD! THUD!

And then, you’re falling.

Shit. We’re falling.

Your brain stops working, completely freezing in your spot, the noise of the elevator screeching against its reins echoing in your head. Your heart pounds against your chest.

“On the ground!" a distant voice yells. Heeseung.

Right. That’s smart.

You follow his movements and lie down next to him, spread eagle. Your arms are practically on top of each other.

Heeseung grips onto your shoulder, shaking it. “We’ll be okay,” he says, though you're not sure if it's to you or himself. His eyes stay open widely, bloodshot.

Suddenly, the elevator stops in its movements. The unexpected stop makes your chest bounce, but altogether, you're okay. You’re okay. “Is anyone in there?” The voice is muffled from behind the closed doors, but you think you recognize it as one of the janitors from the building.

Hurriedly, Heeseung rushes to the door. “Yes, yes, we’re in here!”

“Stay there—Er, I mean, stay still—Or, just don't worry we’ll get you out of there. Soon.” The ending of his sentence doesn't bring much reassurance, but from your spot still on the floor, you force yourself to believe his words.

Heeseung doesn't seem convinced either, but he lets out a sigh and extends his hand to help you up. You take his offer and try your best to ignore the fire his touch alights in your stomach. “I guess we have some time.”

“I guess we do,” you say with an awkward laugh.

He doesn't say anything in response, giving you the chance to lead the conversation. If you wanted to completely ignore the subject at hand, you don't think he'd mind. This gives you the confidence to do the complete opposite.

You take a deep breath before sputtering, “I told my friends about our deal. Drunkenly, so like totally an accident, but I did and now they know and—”

“Oh,” is all that comes out of his mouth at first. You worriedly lift your eyes to meet his, though now they're glued to the ceiling, with his back leaning against the wall. “That's—That’s okay. What harm could they cause? Unless you're telling me they're planning on going around campus exposing us… But that's not your fault.”

This time, you say “Oh,” standing in silence and staring at Heeseung’s favourite spot on the ceiling, too. The panel twitches from above, and you can imagine the elevator crashing has something to do with it. “I also got into a huge fight with them, or maybe not all of them, but it was, it was bad. We've never fought like that.”

“What was the fight about?”

You, you want to say. How Yizhuo did something stupid and it somehow turned into being about your complicated feelings for him. But you can’t tell him all of it, that’d be too much for such a tight space.

Shrugging while trying to look unconcerned, you decide to confess a half-truth. For some reason, you can’t get yourself to lie to him. “They think our plan is a bad idea because you’d be supposedly ‘using me,’ as if I like you, or something…”

He’s silent, at first. Heeseung considers what you’ve said, neither comforting nor arguing against you for it.

“Do you?”

You turn to him. “Do I what?”

“Like me,” he answers. “Do you like me?”

“I…” you start lamely. Your eyes avoid his, but they always seem to find their way back to his gaze, your face flushing underneath it. “I can’t answer that.”

And neither does he.

Instead, he turns so his body is completely facing yours, coming much closer than he was before. You tilt your head toward his where your breaths fan against each other. Your eyes make the mistake of drifting down to his lips again, and you instantly lose all composure.

You lean in first, but he’s quick to follow your lead, placing his hands onto your waist, while yours find their way to the base of his neck.

The kiss is delicate, but sparks fly all around. Your stomach does a flip when you feel his tongue tracing your bottom lip, but you don’t deny him access for long.

Heeseung’s hands trail down your torso to your hips, where they inch backward to pull you closer into him. You follow his movements until he’s pushed against the wall with you tightly pressed against him. He flexes his arms around your body and flips you so your back is against the wall instead, with him hovering above you.

His knee is drawn between your legs pressing against your core, eliciting a moan, but it doesn’t go further than that. Soon enough, your movements are slowing down, though your heart is still racing in your chest.

When you separate, your mouth hangs open. “Heeseung…” you whisper, but before you can say anything more, the doors slide open.

“Are you okay?” The janitor that you predicted would be there is standing by the buttons, holding a handy-man suitcase for the electrician kneeling in front of the panel. “Anyone get hurt?”

You brush off any dust from your back, adjusting your shirt and hair to be more presentable. Also to erase the memory of whatever just happened. Did we really…? “No. No, we’re okay. Thank you.”

“Yes, we’re… okay,” Heeseung adds quietly.

You don’t even wait for Heeseung, rushing toward the staircase on the other side to get to your floor. For a moment, you hear his footsteps behind you, but once you’re up halfway, you realize he’s given up and you let out a sigh of relief.

You don’t really want to face him now, not after what just happened.

Luckily for you, you don’t need to face him for a long time afterward.

You stare at his latest text (”assignments are pretty crazy atm let’s reschedule our next fake dates”), trying not to focus on your heart tightening at his word choice, and quickly reply:

ME sounds good! see u :) 10:11

The week goes by slowly and quietly.

With Heeseung mostly M.I.A besides the occasional short-worded answers to your texts and you actively avoiding running into your friends, you’ve had a lot more time for yourself and you notice how much you hate it.

So, you pluck up the courage to text the ghosted group chat, asking the girls to meet together at the café. You all need to talk, whether any of you like it or not.

Though, the reason you even have the motivation to do this at all is because you know the girls have been making an effort to talk. Although not in the group chat, your messages have been spammed daily with apologies and questions about your daily life, to keep it casual. You also received a note during the class you share with Ryujin which read simply: “Love ya xx”

You smiled at it before crumpling it and stuffing it into your bag—What? You were trying to make a statement.

Now there’s no need for theatrical note crumpling, with the three girls surrounding you at your regular booth. Yours and Heeseung’s, you mean. It’s the comfiest there, you convince yourself when making the natural choice to sit there.

The space is filled with awkward silence as you sip on your mocha, feeling even more stuffy when the girls don’t make a move to drink their own orders. You’ve had enough of this. “Guys… Let’s talk, or something. We’re still friends.”

“I’m sorry,” Yizhuo says out of the blue. “Seriously. That was really messed up and I shouldn’t have said it. And I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did, you had every right to be mad.”

You smile softly. “Thank you,” is all you say, taking her hands in yours and squeezing them. You lean your head against her shoulder and the two of you stay like that for a while.

“You really like Heeseung, don’t you?”

Your head shoots up at Yunjin’s sudden question. You stumble over your words, trying to suppress the blush from spreading up to the tips of your ears, but you feel the heat anyway. “No, no, I—I don’t. No.” You shake your head for emphasis, but Yizhuo looks at you with telling eyes.

“Sure, I believe you,” she says, completely meaning the opposite.

“I just—” you start, not really knowing how you feel. “Our whole set-up, it’s—it’s fake. He doesn’t feel the same. I don't even know why he kissed me—”

“He kissed you?!”

Before you have the chance to respond, your phone buzzes, drawing your attention thankfully away from your accidental reveal. It’s Heeseung. Great.

희승♡ there’s a party at sunghoon's, you wanna come? 14:23

ME when is it? 14:23

희승♡ tonight @ 10 14:23

You look back up at the girls to find them staring at you with knowing smiles. It’s not hard for them to notice who you’re texting, or the way your eyes glint at the messenger.

“So,” you tell them. Yizhuo and Ryujin lean in, while Yunjin raises a curious brow. “Who wants to go to a party?”

Sunghoon’s house isn’t as grand, but it’s just as prepared for a party as Jay’s. Music blares into the driveway as you, Heeseung and the girls make your way to the door. Nobody is standing by it with a blunt, but the wide-open entrance is welcome enough.

“You guys go in,” you tell the girls, making a sign for them to not protest. They don’t, understanding your unspoken signal and heading inside. You turn back to Heeseung who looks more nervous than he’s known to be nonchalant. “Hey…”

“Hey,” he says back.

“It’s been a while.”

He hums, looking off to the cars spilling out into the street, nodding at nothing. “I’m sorry, I was, uh, busy,” he clarifies.

A chill passes between you, but you’re not so sure if it’s the wind or the awkward air. Either way, you’re happy to have brought a jacket to bury your hands in.

“You made up with your friends,” Heeseung notes suddenly.

“Yeah, we talked earlier.” He’s not going to bring up the kiss, you conclude, and neither are you. Maybe you can go on and forget it happened altogether. “We sorted it all out.”

Heeseung gives you a genuine, albeit small, smile. “That’s good.”

Scenes from the elevator rush through your mind. His hands around your waist, his lips against yours. The way it all felt, how consumed you were of him. How good it was. You blink it away and gesture to the door. “Should we…”

“Let’s go,” he says, then adds, “Kang Hana.”

You laugh. Okay, you think, we’re okay.

And with Heeseung by your side, the night is one to remember.

With the music ringing loudly throughout the house, after a few light drinks, you and Heeseung spend your time dancing with your hands on each other, rhythmically guiding each other to the melody. You almost forget there are other people in the room at all, closing your eyes and only thinking of the man holding you in his arms.

When the fourth or fifth song ends, you separate, only for him to run his hand down your arm to grab your hand on his own. He leads you to one of the rec rooms.

“There she is!” Yunjin’s drunken voice makes you giggle, the buzz getting to you, too.

“Hi, hi,” you tell her and the others.

Yizhuo is busy steadying her aim, holding onto a ping pong ball just past her nose with one closed eye, to greet you, but Ryujin waves sleepily from her place. She’s leaning against someone you recognize from one of her study groups. They nod to you, too.

“Hey,” Heeseung whispers, leaning into your ear.

You giggle at the feeling of his words against your skin. “Hey, back.”

“I’m gonna go get another drink, you want one?”

You nod eagerly, letting your fingers fiddle with his even as he begins to walk away. When he’s gone, your hands linger in the air for a moment more, missing the warmth of his hold.

Suddenly, the warmth comes back, though it’s different.

Turning around, you’re faced with Jay. “Can we talk?” he asks.

Wordlessly, you nod and let him guide you through the crowd of people to a more secluded area.

“What’s up?” You try to steady your voice, but it comes out higher pitched and perky out of instinct, still feeling the adrenaline of the buzz.

“Heeseung told me you wanted an ‘in’ at my dad’s firm?”

Your eyes light up. “Yes, yes I do!”

He chuckles at your excitement. “Well… I can give you his details so you can get into contact with him. I’m also technically not supposed to tell you this, but—” You lean in expectantly. “—they're picking out students for a co-op over the summer. Maybe I could put in a good word, slide your application at the top of the pile…”

“You can do that? Seriously!?”

“I can’t guarantee it’ll be with my father himself.” He raises his arms in defense. “But I can definitely get you some connections on the inside.”

Your hands come up to your mouth, holding it from going agape in honour. “Thank you, oh my God, thank you,” you repeat for good measure. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“Don’t worry about it.” The air shifts as he moves closer to you. Jay’s hand lands on the wall not far off from your head. He leans in, his breath tickling your skin, making your cheeks flush. “Maybe you could thank me by letting me take you out?”

For a moment, you’re frozen in your spot. How are you meant to react? Heeseung’s best friend hitting on you? What would happen if he saw? Wait, does it even matter? You’re not actually dating. Right?

But the elevator…

“Hey,” a familiar voice sounds from behind you. Heeseung steps forward, the lights of the party illuminating his features dimly. His face wears an uncharacteristic anger in his furrowed brows and hardened jaw. “Back off.”

Jay simply laughs, retracting his hand. “Why do you care,” he taunts.

You try to keep your composure. Jay hasn't been the nicest out of the group, but you never expected him to sound so mean.

You watch as Heeseung refuses to reply, not wanting to push Jay even more as he’s clearly too buzzed to have a coherent conversation. He tries to grab onto his arms and lead him away, but Jay’s quick to push them off.

“You don’t even like the girl,” Jay slurs.

Heeseung gets closer to him, grabbing his arm and talking into his face to make sure he listens. “You’re drunk, Jay, back off.”

Jay isn’t having it. He tosses his head back in a laugh. “Don’t tell me you actually fell for her?” he asks in a venomous tone. Your stomach churns as you watch their interaction. A smirk grows across his lips. “You owe me.”

“Fuck off.”

“What?” You weren’t going to step in, already feeling shaken up enough from tonight’s events. But Jay’s words ring in your mind. “What does he mean you owe him? What, what is he saying?”

Heeseung’s eyes lock with yours, pity and sadness ghosting his expression. “Y/N, I can explain—”

“We made a bet,” Jay cuts in. He shrugs Heeseung’s hands off of his shoulders. “He had to get any girl on campus to fall for him, leave her in the dust and watch her crawl back.” He turns to Heeseung with a mocking pout, his steps wobbling. He’s really drunk. “Doesn’t matter that she won’t come crawling back, ‘cause you’re too soft to leave her.”

“What’s your problem,” Heeseung shuts. “Are you jealous? That’s fucking low, even for you.”

You can’t even see him properly, your vision blurred in tears. Your breath catches in your throat as you want to say something to interrupt, come between. But you can’t even stand being by Heeseung right now. “A bet? This was all a bet?”

He turns to you quickly. “Y/N, please, let me explain.”

You shake your head, tears running down your cheek, surely ruining your mascara. “I have to go.”

Maybe it would make sense if you let him explain. Maybe he could somehow salvage the situation, but you can’t hear it. Not right now. Not after everything you’ve felt for him, everything you still feel for him despite the ache in your chest.

From behind you, Heeseung calls your name. “Wait, please!” You ignore him and run out of the house.

Your body shakes. “Should’ve brought a sweater..” you mumble bitterly. Then you remember that you did, but you left it inside. You also realize that you left all of your friends behind without a word. “And my phone,” you groan. You could easily turn back around and get them, but you’re already halfway down the road, you can even see your building in the distance.

It’s too humiliating to go back now, anyway.

How could I be so stupid? you think to yourself. Lee Heeseung, going out with you out of his own free will? Stupid. Impossible. Just a dumb fantasy.

It starts to rain. You curse at the sky.

When you finally make it to your dorm, stumbling up the steps because of course the elevator still hasn’t been fixed, you go straight to bed without washing up. You’re too tired for this. And, you realize, you drank too much to care.

You try to fall asleep. You really do.

But your head keeps replaying Jay and Heeseung’s conversation. The way Heeseung lips parted when Jay revealed it all. The way he looked at you, begging for you to listen to him. It’s all stuck in your head and in fear of it following you into your dreams, your body refuses to fall asleep to ignore everything.

Just as you’re about to take your pillow and scream into it, you’re interrupted by the buzzing of your phone.

희승♡ i’m right outside your door 02:23

희승♡ you have every right to slam the door in my face 02:23

희승♡ or not open it at all 02:24

Staring at the messages, you bit your lip in consideration of your options.

You could, A. Not get up. Keep the door closed and never speak to Lee Heeseung ever again. Or, B. Get up, open the door and see what he has to say to explain himself. You’re liking the former, but your feet move on their own toward the entrance.

You lift yourself up to peer through the peephole. Heeseung is standing there, fidgeting anxiously in his stance. He looks from right to left a couple times, down to his phone, back up, and closes his eyes. After a deep breath, you watch him begin to walk backward, slowly.

Something snaps in you. You open the door.

His eyes widen at the sight of you. You’re probably still a mess, eyes red from crying paired with tear-stained cheeks and running mascara. You don’t even want to begin to picture the state of your hair. Yet, he looks at you in awe. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi,” you whisper back.

Wordlessly, you step back to motion for him to come in.

Heeseung follows you onto the couch, where you sit down to look past the TV in front of you and stare at a blank space on the wall. You feel his eyes on you.

“I’m sorry,” he then says.

You don’t reply.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he starts again. “But can I tell you everything from the start? I need you to know what really happened. Then, you can go on to hate me.”

I don’t hate you, you want to say. You don’t speak, nodding for him to go on.

Ironically, considering he was drunk out of his mind, Heeseung remembers the moment he got your call.

He and the boys were hanging at Sunghoon’s, originally just planning on playing video games and getting high, but then Sunghoon mentioned his dad’s stash. “Whiskey and lemonade, anyone? Rum and coke? Dirty Shirley? If you’re feeling creative,”

Who was Heeseung to deny?

And so, soon enough, they were drunk enough to forget the weight on their shoulders and act more carefreely. This is when Jay decided to come up with a brilliant idea.

“So we all know Heeseung’s a whore—”

“Hey,” he interrupted. “I haven’t gotten some in, like, four months.”

Jay laughed, taking another swig of his drink. He grimaced as the liquid burned down his throat. “You’ve basically fucked half of the campus, but it’s always one night and that’s it.” Heeseung nodded, not sure where he was going with this. “Bet you can’t get someone to fall in love, or some shit.”

He couldn’t help but raise a brow challengingly. “What? You think someone wouldn’t fall for me if I gave them flowers and took them out?”

“Have you ever even actually dated?”

The answer was yes. Technically. If you count middle school relationships. Otherwise, fine, he’ll admit to himself that he hasn’t ever dated anyone seriously. That’s just ‘cause he hasn’t found anyone he’s really interested that he knows would be into him, too.

Of course, there was you. You were the first person he ever fell head over heels for. Heeseung didn’t even know he was capable of falling so hard, but he did.

Though you would never like him back. You’ve already confirmed it.

So, Heeseung clapped his hands determinedly. “You wanna bet on it?”

But before Jay could answer, his phone rang.

The contact felt familiar—Note Giver—but his mind couldn’t register. “Hello,” he said confusedly.

Some commotion on the other side took him by surprise.

“Um… Who is this?” Sunghoon looked at him curiously, wondering what could’ve interrupted their moment.

The girl, he presumed, on the other side hesitated for a moment. There was more noise before she said: “This is… Hana…”

“Hana?”

“Kang. Kang Hana,” the girl clarified. Y/N. He finally realized it was you. “We met at the, uh, party last Friday. At Jay’s.”

Heeseung considered your words, wondering where you were going with this. At the same time, he accidentally spilled his drink. “Shit,” he whispered away from his phone. Sunghoon tossed him a towel with a big smile on his face. When the mess was mostly cleaned, Heeseung brought the phone back to his ear, cleaning the rest of it with his other hand. “Kang Hana.”

“Yeah, we had a good time together, didn’t we?”

He paused. “I guess,” he said slowly. He wanted to have a little fun with this, listen to your voice a little longer. “Can you remind me?”

You began to tell the tale about your supposed encounter, spinning the story into something that genuinely impressed Heeseung. Every now and then, he hummed, trying to suppress a laugh at your creativity. He doesn’t even want to know why this was happening.

“I’m so sorry, I left you in the dirt and—” Your voice was cut off by a squeal, shocking him.

“Woah!” he yelped, pulling the phone away once again. Jay couldn’t hold his laugh at Heeseung’s reaction.

“Who is it,” he asked.

Heeseung didn’t miss a beat before responding without really thinking. “Y/N.”

He practically hears your heart drop. “You knew it was me?”

“Obviously,” he replied with a chuckle. “Took me a second, I’m a little tipsy, haha.” He didn’t want to throw you off by admitting he was more than buzzed, so he told a white lie. As long as he was coherent enough to have a conversation, he thought it was fine.

“Oh, am I interrupting?”

“You’re never a bother, babe.”

Why did I say that? Maybe he’s more drunk than he thought. It just slipped past his lips, he doesn’t know why. Were his fantasies meshing with reality that he couldn’t help himself? Heeseung tries not to watch Jay’s face morph into something mischievous.

“Huh,” you said, which made Heeseung cringe.

Jay mouthed something in his direction. He tried to read it, but it must've been something along the lines of “Her. She’s the girl.”

Heeseung knew what he meant and mentally hurled the empty chair to his right at him. Back to the phone conversation, he tried to change the subject. “Are you with the girls?”

You told him you were, and he took this as an opening.

As much as he wanted to keep talking with you, since it’s been so long, he needed to get away from this conversation to recover from the embarrassing slip-up. “I don’t want to keep you if you’re having fun. Text me later though, okay?” God, when does he stop talking?

You confusedly told him “Okay?” before you cut the call.

He was already typing a message to apologize to you for his behaviour, but Jay was already telling him to play along with it some more. The bet was on and he decided that you were going to be the girl.

Heeseung felt a knot form in his stomach.

“I should’ve just come clean when we met at the café, but I didn’t. I’m sorry.” He ends his retelling at that, you fill in the rest with your mind.

You’re not sure what to say. You have so many questions and comments spiralling in your mind, where do you even start? “There was never a girl?”

“No… Just you.”

Stuttering, you just have to ask. “Why me?”

“Jay told me to go for you, said it would be a challenge. I was stupid enough to go along with it. I can’t tell you how sorry I am, I wanted to tell you the truth, but I… I really like you, Y/N, I didn’t think you’d want to be with me if you knew the truth.”

“You called me babe.” Is all you say.

“What?”

“On call. The first time. You called me babe. I thought that was you playing your role.”

Heeseung lets out a shaky sigh that sounds more like a breathy laugh. “I was drunk,” he explains. “And I…” You look at him expectantly. “I’ve liked you since we met, and I guess it slipped up ‘cause I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

This shocks you. You blink up at him. “Since we met?”

“Well, pretty much.” He rubs the base of his neck awkwardly. “Obviously you’re really pretty, but it was more than that. You were always the first in class. You only answered the professor when no one else would, even though you definitely always knew the answer. You’re so well spoken, too.” You blush at his words. You never realized he had been so observant. You never thought anyone would notice so much about you.

However, you shake your head. “But you never said anything?” This truly astounds you. The everknown Lee Heeseung never made a move to even at least try to be with you. You can’t even know if you would’ve said no to him because well… he’s him. If you knew him the way you know him now, you know you would’ve said yes in a heartbeat.

“Remember what I told you about the girl I liked?” You nod. “You’re her.”

You furrow your brows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Last semester, I went to one of the campus parties and you were there. You were drunk out of your mind,” he laughs. Oh, God, he remembers, too? “At first I was just admiring this new side of you. So carefree and so unapologetically you.” His eyes glint at the memory. You can almost see it replaying in your head. Almost because you truly can’t remember much of that night. “And then you ran off to the bathroom at some point ‘cause you got sick. I followed you to make sure you were alright, but you pushed me away.

“You told me to fuck off ‘cause you didn’t want to sleep with me. You called me a player and said you didn’t want to get roped up in that, or something. I think you insulted me some more, but your words were kind of all mashed together.” You flush. “I left you alone, but made sure to get your friends to check on you. And, I don’t know, I kind of lost interest in hooking up with random people after that.”

Your eyebrows raise, impressed. “You quit cold turkey?” He nods. “For me?”

He nods again.

“Wow… You really like me?”

“Y/N, I think I’m in love with you.”

You find yourself teetering on the edge of disbelief and joy, uncertain about how to respond to this unexpected revelation. Heeseung looks at you with such tenderness that you’ve never had directed toward you, to which your heart flutters with warmth.

His eyes shift from adoration to concern as you sit there in shock for a moment. “I know you probably don’t like me back, but—” he starts, but you don’t let him finish.

Driven by a surge of emotions, you lean in, pressing your lips against his.

As you kiss him this time, there’s a greater sense of assurance. Your first kiss carried an air of uncertainty, with both of you unsure about each other’s feelings. The way you felt when pulling away left your stomach in knots, thoughts of insecurities and worries running through your mind.

You let go of your hesitation, now, focusing solely on this moment. The way your lips connect to his, the way he smiles into the kiss and the way you pull away to look at him with telling eyes.

“I love you, Kang Hana,” Heeseung tells you.

You reply with a laughing smile. “I love you, too, Lee Heeseung.”

A ringing phone blares in your ear early in the morning. You groan, eyelids barely awake since even the sun hasn't come up yet. “Hello,” you mumble into the receiver. “Um… Who is this?”

You recognize the chuckle from the other side. Suddenly, you’re much more awake. “I’m sorry, Love, did I wake you?”

“No! No—” you scramble but are cut off by a yawn. Heeseung laughs softly again. “Yes, you did, but that's okay. Why're you calling so early? How are you even up?”

“I couldn't sleep.” Then, he adds more teasingly. “Not without you.”

You can practically hear the wink he sends.

“I wanted to watch the sunrise, and then I thought that maybe you’d want to watch it with me?” He says it like a question, as if he's not sure. You shake your head even though you know he can't see it. “Maybe I should've thought this through…”

A giggle escapes your lips without warning. “It’s fine, Heeseung. How about you come over and we’ll watch it by my window? Unless you have a spot?”

He hums assuredly. “No, no, I was just gonna watch it from mine, too. I’m actually, uh, already inside your building.”

He’s so ridiculous. You laugh to yourself before telling him to come up—You unlock the door, only for him to appear right on the other side as you do it.

“Hi,” you tell him with a bright smile despite your tired eyes.

“Hi,” he replies quietly.

You’re lucky your window is facing the east, with little to nothing blocking your view from the clear bluish-orange morning sky, aside from some trees, but they only add to the landscape. The sunrise is beautiful, but you conclude that Heeseung is much more beautiful, especially with the way his eyes reflect the sun rays that hit through your window.

For a moment, you shut your eyes to appreciate the heat of the rays. “Beautiful,” Heeseung murmurs.

And when you open your eyes, you realize he’s looking at you.

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seiwas · 3 months ago

Text

you're the reason (i got a weakness) | miya atsumu

wc: 2.9k

summary: it’s not that atsumu doesn't like you dressing up like this—in fact, he loves it. just not when you're fighting. not when he can't even call you "baby".

contains: post-timeskip atsumu, arguments and atsumu feeling really sorry, flashbacks, uses the nickname “baby” & “my love”, reader is described as “pretty” and wears heels, hurt/comfort.

a/n: atsumu isn’t a sucky boyfriend he just gets carried away sometimes. song inspo: can you blame me? - kehlani, lucky daye.

part of the in's and out's new year/birthday event | request prompt: making yourself look good to feel good (your partner has something to say to you)

sponsored by @itskilau and @tasoyoru for the @ficsforgaza initiative. please check it out and support if you can!

“Bab—”

Atsumu lingers by your bathroom door, eyes drooping lower and sadder than they ever have. The steam makes the bleached strands of his hair cling to his forehead, his thick eyebrows now damp and flattened.

You sigh, the big, heavy, and deep kind, shoulders dropping as you clasp the lock of your necklace.

He stares.

That’s his job. You always ask him to do it the moment you step out of the shower.

His lip trembles, eyes watery.

“Not now, Atsumu.”

You walk past him as you adjust the towel around your chest, your arm brushing against his. It’s a small thing, a sensation ingrained so deeply into the past two years you’ve been together, but he feels it like it’s the first time you ever touched him—and in a way, it is. Since yesterday, at least.

The silence that trails after you is so deafeningly still, he thinks he can hear his heart breaking.

“Atsumu,” your voice rings.

Who the hell is “Atsumu”?

He’s not supposed to be “Atsumu” to you. He’s “Tsum.” He’s “baby.” He’s “my love.”

Anything but “Atsumu.”

When you close the door of your walk-in closet to change, the metaphorical volleyball of hope floating right into the palm of his hand misses and drops straight to the floor.

It started with volleyball, as all things with Atsumu do.

You’d met him at the rise of his career, just a few years of him being pro. You were friends first, but if you ask anyone around Atsumu, they’d tell you you were never just a friend to him; he’d invited you to all his games and practice matches, spent a bit more time in the locker rooms before going out for dinner with you and the rest of the team.

Osamu has the receipts of all the extra orders of onigiri Atsumu started adding to his regular weekly subscription since meeting you.

Your first ‘date’ was Atsumu treading the very fine line between teaching you how to play volleyball and teaching himself self-control. Keeping an eye on the ball is hard enough, what more when he has to resist staring at you in very cute volleyball shorts too?

As MSBY’s success skyrocketed, so did Atsumu’s—brand deals left and right, solo work trips during off seasons, commercials; the whole thing. When Atsumu wasn’t training, he was either traveling or attending events and photoshoots. Always on-the-go. Moving.

And he knew you understood, knew you knew him and his tendencies to overwork; knew him, and his habit of getting stuck inside his own world. You’d driven to late practices with bento boxes to share, and you’d packed his gym bag more than a few times, brought in extra clothes without him having to say a word.

You’ve managed his lifestyle better than anyone could.

But, Atsumu has a bad habit of promising more than he should, of serving white lies just as easily as he does volleyballs behind the service line.

“Won’t take long, baby. Swear it,” he holds on to the wall by your door, slipping his feet inside his dress shoes. “Pick ya up at 6:00?”

He’d winked at you then, kissed you between your eyebrows and nose before sneaking one more right at that spot underneath your ear.

What he’d give to be able to do that right now.

“Okay,” you giggle, swatting his chest as you nod, “better hurry then, you might be late.”

When Atsumu remembers that moment, the way you’d agreed so doubtlessly, he hates himself even more. You trusted him, have trusted him so wholeheartedly this entire time, so maybe you’re right—

“Would it hurt for you to just be honest?”

—Atsumu has no excuse standing you up on the date he promised you weeks ago all because he lost track of time in some brand event, listening to a potential collaboration on volleyball shoes. Atsumu has no excuse agreeing to “some drinks” right after just to meet the executives of the company.

There are meetings for those things, ones that can be scheduled and agreed upon. Ones that don’t compromise or add on to the already long list of missed dates with you.

“I know you’re busy and I understand,” you sigh, turning the knob of the kitchen stove as you heat up the kettle, “you know I do.”

He stands before you a quarter past 11:00 p.m., cologne long faded and the smell of alcohol spilled on his sleeve. The kitchen island stands like a net on the court, the ball being sent over to his side.

“Baby, I—”

He passes it back.

You turn from the stove, face fresh and hair tied into a messy low bun as you look at him—how could he have ever stood this–you–up?

You take the ball, “Can I finish what I have to say first?”

He nods. The kettle begins whizzing.

“I’m happy and so, so proud that you have all these opportunities,” you reach for the cupboard above head to grab a mug. The box of tea bags sits to your right, a mix of Lemon Balm and Chamomile that Atsumu swears keeps his anxieties at bay during the night. “But at least tell me if you can’t make it.”

You tear open a tea packet, dangling it inside the mug. The kettle whistles, and he feels the onset of a spike.

“Please don’t keep my hopes up every time.”

You turn back towards the stove, turning the burner off as you pour in the steaming water inside the mug.

“Baby, I swear, they just–they started talkin’ ‘bout these shoes, ‘n I thought t’was cool, ‘n the execs–they said the execs’d be there in the afterparty, and—” he breathes, “won’t happen next time, baby. ‘M so—”

“Can I really believe you next time?”

You approach the kitchen island slowly, holding the piping hot mug carefully as you set it down in front of him.

Atsumu stood you up on your date, and you still made him tea.

You hold his stare for a brief moment before you walk away, sadness and disappointment all-in-one.

It is now that Atsumu knows, he’s fucked up.

The ball lands on his side of the court.

And so, he’s spent this entire day trying to make it up to you—breakfast in the morning, right before training (which he absolutely tanked because all he could think about was how sad you looked the night before); flowers that he brought home after lunch time, just to find the apartment empty. It’s only after a full text thread and three missed calls to your phone that he finally gets a response.

“Nail appointment. Going out tonight,” is your reply (using speech-to-text too, he suspects, with how formal it sounds).

Which is fine and dandy to him; you should do everything that makes you feel better after he practically took you for granted. It’s just—he hasn’t even said sorry yet, can’t even call you “baby”, can’t even touch you even though he really, really, really wants to.

And now, with you closing the door on him while you’re changing—there’s nothing else he can do, really, but to walk away and give you some space.

He shifts his feet, dragging them lightly against the wooden floors of your bedroom.

The moment he hears the door of your walk-in closet slide open, he hurriedly sits down on the edge of your bed, acting as if he wasn’t just anxiously pacing, waiting for you to come out.

He feels like shit, if he’s being honest—like how he does when he misses a serve; if not, worse.

You look good. Make-up done to only emphasize the features he loves (which is your entire face, really), and your outfit perfectly accentuating the dips and curves of your body.

He follows you as you exit the room, tailing after you like a lost puppy. When you stop by your entryway, all he can do is watch as you bend down to put on the straps of your heels. And it sucks, because if you weren’t fighting, Atsumu would be right by your feet, crouched low so that you wouldn’t have to.

It’s pathetic and a little helpless of him to just stand and stare in the middle of your living room. He should say something at least, but, you just look so good, and his throat feels dry; his heart all achy and stomach twisty.

He doesn’t want to be away from you.

And it’s not that he doesn’t like you going out looking like this—he loves it. But as soon as you step out the door with a soft “don’t wait up for me” mumbled from your glossed lips, Atsumu can only taste bitter regret at the fact that he wishes he were coming with you.

He couldn’t even give you a goodbye kiss.

The blond groans, pulling at his hair as he rests his elbows down on the kitchen counter.

“Don’t wait up for me,” you said. As if he can even sleep without you around.

The hours go by but they feel like days. Atsumu’s done every possible thing he can do in this apartment and it still hasn’t breached 11:00 p.m.. He’s cleaned down the kitchen (twice!) and arranged the food inside the fridge like those ‘stock up my fridge with me’ tiktoks he’s seen on Sakusa’s phone. The clothes on his side of the closet have been arranged by color and length, with all the ones in his dresser refolded, Marie Kondo style. He’s also pretty sure he’s scrubbed the bathroom down enough that you can probably see your reflection on the tiles of the damn thing. The laundry baskets for both your clothes are now empty, and he’s changed the bedsheets too and—

He’s still restless. The numbers on the clock taunt him, moving up agonizingly slowly. He can’t stop looking at the time, itching for you to come home.

Atsumu is sorry, so so so incredibly so, because you’re right―he hasn’t been fair to you at all, and he needs you to know that he knows it, too.

His eyes go over the clock again, only a minute having passed since the last time he checked it.

Is this how you felt? Every time you waited for him to come home for a date he promised you?

He squeezes his eyes; it hurts him just thinking about it.

That’s it, he decides, grabbing his phone and wallet as he walks out the door.

Atsumu doesn’t check your location often (maybe only a few times). It’s not a trust thing, he swears; it’s just for when he wants to make sure you’re somewhere safe, or in a place he can reach you should you need him there.

And, you clearly don’t need him right now, but, Atsumu is a little selfish, he admits.

Sitting at home with all his regret feels worse than seeking you out to beg for your forgiveness, whether you want him to or not.

He’s barely dressed for the venue as he steps inside the bar, a pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt with those fashionable Birkenstock clogs on. A few people seem to recognize him, tilting their heads and murmuring among themselves as he walks through door, but none of them approach him, thankfully, except for a server asking if he needs assistance.

His eyes scan the tables first, searching for any semblance of the outfit he’d seen you leave in earlier. The dim lights make it increasingly difficult for him to look for your properly as he squints his eyes some more, narrowing his vision to the people at the front bar this time. It’s after the fourth person he dismisses that he feels himself getting desperate, nearly turning towards the server beside him to ask for help.

Until he spots you—tucked in the corner of the front bar, sitting on the barstool with your legs crossed as you swirl around your drink.

You look bored, and a little sad, chin resting in your hand as you lean your elbow on the table.

He frowns, thanking the server on the side as he makes his way to you slowly. You barely notice him as you bring out your phone, tapping on the screen as you stare at it almost longingly―a photo of you and him some time ago after one of his games. He knows it well, can still remember that day so clearly: when he became a PR nightmare because he couldn’t help but announce your relationship by kissing you in front of everybody.

It makes his chest hurt.

Then, you swipe it open, and he’s close enough now to be able to catch a glimpse of what’s on your screen: your text thread with him, his last message being, “Did you make it safely?”

(You pout, eyes pricking with tears. You didn’t reply to him then because you weren’t ready to fully talk to him yet, still upset and disappointed.

It was easy to make yourself feel better by dressing up and stepping out of the apartment earlier, the promise of good drinks and good company awaiting your arrival; you couldn’t think about how you felt if you were busying yourself with others. But now that all of those feelings have died down and most of your friends have started chatting up other people they’ve found, it’s beginning to hit you all at once just how much you still prefer Atsumu’s company more than anything else.

Your fingers hover over your text box, typing and deleting. Typing and deleting.)

He’s two stools away from you now, and he can barely contain it―

“Baby,” his voice trembles, unsteady.

Recognition fills you as you turn to the sound, half-confused at whether you’re hearing things; whether―

(“Tsum,” you mutter, eyes catching a pair of familiar warm brown staring back at you. His bottom lip quivers, the embodiment of a dam starting to crack, vibrating.

Your emotions are a mess, your breath on hold as you feel tears welling up in your lashline too. You still feel upset, still a little sad, and a tiny bit disappointed, but what coats them all is a sense of relief because—)

―he’s here, standing in front of you like he just rolled out of the house with barely enough time to get dressed (which, you’re sure is exactly how things went), and you’re sliding off the bar stool in the prettiest outfit, looking like the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

“‘M so sorry,” he breathes out, stepping closer as he grabs your hand, “Don’t ever wanna make y’feel like that again.” His knee gives way as he starts sinking to the floor, “I won’t do that anymore―”

“Tsum,” you try to call his attention.

He’ll beg for your forgiveness whether you like it or not.

(The interaction is causing nearby tables to look, murmurs and whispers in your periphery as you catch vague sentences here and there. He still is a public figure, after all.)

But Atsumu is unaware, looking at you and you alone as he pleads, “No, please hear me out first. I promise I’ll tell ‘em they can speak ‘ta―”

“Tsum,” you squeeze his hand, whispering more firmly as you try to pull him up.

“Baby, please. Gimme the chance ‘ta show ya that I―”

(You look around and notice even more eyes on the two of you, fond looks on their faces as they prepare their phones for what seems like something momentous. Then it hits you, how this looks―)

“Tsum, please stand up,” you tug at his hand strongly, urging him to stand. His eyebrows furrow as he obliges, only comprehending why when you explain it to him softly, “people were starting to think you were about to propose.”

He pauses for a moment, a slight, “Oh,” as he ponders on it. “Well, if that’s what’ll prove it t’ya, then—”

You roll your eyes, the corners of your lips curling slightly as you hit his shin with your foot and squeeze his hand again, “Don’t joke about things like that.”

Well, it’s not the first time it’s crossed his mind, if he’s being honest.

He sighs, sitting on the stool beside you as he rubs his thumb over your hand again, bringing it close to his lips to kiss softly.

“‘M really sorry, baby,” he mumbles against your skin before moving your hand over his heart. “Don’t ever want ya feelin’ like this again.”

“I know,” you give him a small smile, patting down some of the strands of his hair that stick out, “you didn’t have to come out here though, you know. I was about to go home soon, anyway.”

“Can ya blame me? Seein’ ya off like that?” he grips your hand tighter as his voice softens. “Y’re too pretty to be sad,” he plays with your fingers, intertwining them with his.

You hit his shin again, feeling shy. You always do when Atsumu likes to sweet-talk you.

“Do ya forgive me?” he asks after some time, as you take the last few sips of your drink.

You hum, looking him in the eyes as you nod, pouting, “I don’t like being mad at you, you know.” He lights up, beaming, but you add on, “We still have to talk about it properly, though. Later, when we get back.”

He nods in agreement, holding your hand as you slide off the barstool, guiding you out of the bar and into the car.

(You both do talk about it properly, and the next time Atsumu promises you a date, he blocks it out of all of his calendars, sending the date to his manager even, just to be extra sure.)

a/n: this has been such a long time coming, i'm sorry to those who waited! i hope you enjoyed even though this simmered with me for way too long 😭 i love writing atsumu a little lovesick but i also think he deserves someone who is equally as in deep as he is 🥺

thank you notes: to 🍧 anon for helping me figure out "what would make you mad at atsumu?" and to @ceroseis and @mieiri for always listening to my shenanigans pre-writing!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

#atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu fluff #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq!! x reader #atsumu x yn #haikyuu!! x reader #atsumu x you #miya atsumu x yn #miya atsumu x you #shotorus.writes #shotorus.events #in's and out's event

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folkloresthings · 6 months ago

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❛ THUNDERSTRUCK ❜ ❨ charles leclerc x dcc!reader ❩

where ferarri’s golden boy is in love with america’s sweetheart and doesn’t care what anyone has to say about it.

faceclaim: reece weaver.

… based loosely off of this request and my current obsession after binging the dcc documentary

INSTAGRAM.

liked by dccheerleaders, charles_leclerc, and 837,922 others

yourusername AHH!! so so so happy to announce that i’ll be returning for another year as a dallas cowboys cheerleader 💙 it’s my favourite job in the world and i couldn’t dream of doing anything else. see you on the field!!!

view all 521,446 comments

user my fav girl after watching the doc on netflix!!!

dccheerleaders can’t wait for game day! 💙🏈📣

⤷ yourusername go cowboys!!!!

user is there going to be a season 2?

user what is mister charles leclerc doing in the likes

⤷ user america’s sweethearts/drive to survive crossover?

charles_leclerc 💙💙💙

⤷ user HELLO????

TWITTER.

INSTAGRAM.

liked by carlossainz55, franciscagomez and 890,482 others

yourusername tune in today to watch us represent texas at the annual USA formula 1 grand prix! 🏎️ what’s harder: driving cars at 120mph or the thunderstruck choreo?

view all 700,019 comments

scuderiaferrari you guys definitely win the difficulty contest

⤷ user dcc could race f1 but the drivers could never do the jump splits

user is she there w charles????

user you guys are obsessed, they’re probably not even dating

⤷ user i hope not, he suited girls like alex and charlotte so much more

landonorris me watching the pre-race performance 🤯🤯🤯

user okay i’m not a fan of her but that dancing???? holy shit she’s talented

⤷ user right??? those high kicks were fire

charles_leclerc i have, indeed, been thunderstruck

⤷ yourusername all the way to P1, i hope

liked by landonorris, lewishamilton and 1,739,183 others

charles_leclerc bring your (beautiful, talented, badass, kind, yeehaw) girlfriend to work day and she’ll become your good luck charm

view all 801,443 comments

user NOOO 💔 one win, one loss

carlossainz55 congrats bro!!! but you should’ve done the hairography on podium

⤷ user carlos knows what hairography is 😭

user he really shut you all down lmao

yourusername MY CHAMP! love you 🩷🩷🩷

⤷ user awwww they are cute you gotta admit

liked by rebeccadonaldson, lilymunihe and 1,309,433 others

yourusername swapped blue for red for a day ❤️

view all 707,375 comments

user they’re growing on me

redbullracing come visit us next time and you can wear blue 😉

⤷ scuderiaferrari she’s ours!!!!

⤷ dccheerleaders maybe we should change our uniforms to red?

user she’s so cute

⤷ user right 🥹 you could hear her cheering for charles at the podium

⤷ user you could hear her accent too 😁

charles_leclerc my southern belle ❤️❤️❤️

⤷ yourusername yeehaw 🤠

🗞️ this wasn’t exactly what the original anon asked for but i wanted to write a dcc reader for weeeeeks and the ask finally gave me the change so i tweaked some things 😁😁😁

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lemonlover1110 · 4 months ago

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𝐀 𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

Zayne

Pairing: Zayne x f!Reader

Summary: The rain ruining his plans might have been the best possible luck.

Warnings: MDNI, Fluff, Smut, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Creampie

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“It’s raining.” You point out, face nearly pressing on the window as you stare outside. It was going to happen sooner or later, the dark clouds had been adorning the sky the entire day, yet the day went dry.

“Raining?” Zayne sounds surprised, as if he hadn’t been staring at the same dark sky a couple of hours earlier. He stands up, walking over to look out the window as if he didn’t trust your word. You swear you hear him sigh when he confirms that it’s indeed raining.

“Is everything okay? Is our date still on?” You look at him, worried about his reaction. He wants to say that the rain will be over in ten minutes and the plans are still on… But it doesn’t look like it’ll stop any time soon.

“The rain is going to make things more… Difficult.” Zayne answers, not wanting to give up on the date idea just yet. There is no hope though, you can’t go stargazing when it’s storming out. You stare at him, trying to study the look on his face– A task that’s difficult since the man does a great job at suppressing any trace of emotion. “Maybe we have to change a couple of things.”

From now on he will leave the dates to you and only you, because the one time he plans something it’s ruined before it even begins. It’s what he gets for trying to be romantic, there’s a reason you’re the one that usually takes on the role.

“Like?” You ask, and he isn’t sure how to answer. He already had everything planned out, and he put his all to the specific date so now his brain is empty. The lack of answer makes you chuckle. “So we’re staying in?”

“Unless I get a reservation in time.” Zayne reaches for his phone to look up restaurants nearby, trying to salvage the night but you snatch the device from his hands. He raises his brows, wondering what you have in mind.

“Let’s stay in. We can cook something, play a couple of games… Other stuff.” You respond, and Zayne fights back a smile. It’s great to have someone pick up his slack. “I found this new recipe that I’ve been dying to try.”

“Tell me what you need, and I’m on it.” He says, and you can’t help but smile. He’s willing to do anything when you have his attention.

“I think we have everything, I just need you to chop up some stuff.” You tell him, and he nods in response. He’s not a great cook since he barely has the time or energy to make his own meals, but at the very least he’s great at chopping up stuff. “You can be my sous chef.”

“Yes, ma’am.” There’s a subtle smile on his lips, and it overflows your heart with joy when you notice it. You wonder why he smiles but it’s never unwelcome. Especially from him.

You kiss his cheek before telling him, “Let’s get to work.”

After nearly burning the house down trying the new recipe, you surprisingly end up with a delicious meal on your table. You’re enjoying your meal, too busy stuffing your face to keep up a proper conversation. You don’t need to talk either way, each other’s presence is enough to satisfy any need for interaction. Though Zayne can’t help but comment,

“Surprisingly it doesn’t taste burnt.” Which makes you roll your eyes. He can’t help but bring it up when you told him a million times that you had it under wraps.

“I told you I had it handled.” You respond. “Or do you not have faith in me, Dr. Zayne?”

“Dr. Zayne?” He raises a brow, and you hum in response. He lets out a low laugh before answering, “I do have faith in you… But I am allowed to draw some conclusions when I see a flame coming from the pan.”

“That wasn’t a flame.” You argue, and he slightly shakes his head.

“Then why did the fire alarm go off?” He points out, and you puff out a breath. You cross your arms, your appetite gone because your boyfriend won’t allow you to have the last word. He never does, and it might be his only defect. He couldn’t be perfect.

“Next time I’m leaving the cooking to you then.” You pout. He doesn’t want you to feel bad for the light fire, it could happen to anyone plus you were cooking a new recipe.

“You’re a far better cook than I am.” He responds, hoping that it’ll make you feel better. He’s staring at you, trying to decipher what you feel based on the expression on your face. You only stick out your bottom lip, clearly not happy with what he’s said.

What did he say wrong? He said all the right words, you should be gleaming not… Looking disappointed.

“Only because you don’t have time to pick up the skill, if you did then you would be saying something far much different.” You end up telling him, and he takes a moment to look at your face. He’s not sure how to answer. He ends up by telling the truth,

“Probably.” And the moment the word leaves his lips, he realizes he couldn’t have picked a worse answer. You look absolutely mortified, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

“Probably? You’re not supposed to say that.” You say, and he gives you a subtle nod. He’s not supposed to tell you the truth then.

“What am I supposed to say then?” He sounds ever so serious, and one swift look at his face makes you think that he is, indeed, serious.

“No, I doubt it. You’re the best cook ever, dear.” You end up answering, almost laughing at your own response. You see a twinge of a smirk on his face, and you feel like you’ve accomplished something. He lets himself loose around you, and often laughs at any stupid joke that you make, but it still feels rare when you actually see him smile.

“Alright then, so not the truth. Simple.” He answers, and the smirk that comes to his lips doesn’t fill you with pride like it usually does. You puff out a breath and he says, “Repeat the statement.”

“No.” Your answer is firm, therefore he won’t bug you to do it. He’ll drop the subject.

You two continue eating, and for once he’s the one that makes most of the conversation. He should apologize, he should’ve chosen better words.

“If it makes you feel better, the one time I plan a date… It starts to rain.” Zayne hopes that by admitting his own failures, he’ll make you feel better. You can’t help but chuckle.

“That doesn’t mean that you suck, it just means that the weather isn’t on your side.” You reassure him, face turning to look out the window. The rain still falls, much harder than before. “Plus I’m enjoying the date. Well, I was before you–”

“In my defense, I was initially complimenting the dish.” He argues, and you can’t help but laugh. A petty argument from a compliment. Though you’d argue that it was backhanded, Zayne isn’t all that great with words– Unless it’s with him coming up with a witty comeback, or of course, explaining medical terminology.

“How about you start cleaning up while I look for a game we can play?” You change the topic as you finish up your meal. Zayne immediately nods, more than willing to fulfill the task that you’ve assigned. He begins to clear the table, and you stand up to look for the games that are hidden away. Games that you’ve gotten to play with him but you’ve never had the time to actually sit down together and figure out.

You look for something that’ll make the night more fun, and also something that you have yet to play… But you still land on an old game. Something that gets both of you competitive. You end up pulling an old game that you’ve played a dozen times with him. A game that makes you want to break up with him, but when you make up it’s a memorable night.

You set up the table with the game, and wait for Zayne to finish up in the kitchen. You’d offer to help if he was doing any other task, but you aren’t going out of your way to clean up, even if it is to help your amazing boyfriend. Maybe you can take a peek at the cards as you wait for him to come back to the table.

“Okay, I’m ready.” Zayne walks back to the table, grabbing the cards that you definitely didn’t take a quick look at, and shuffling them. “Who’s going first?”

“I am. I don’t trust you while playing kitty cards.” You respond, and he hands out two cards. You frown as you look at them, knowing that you’re starting off on a bad foot. Your assist cards can help you make a comeback, so you’re only praying you get lucky with that.

“I should be the one saying that, I saw you look at the cards.” He lets out a low laugh as he gives himself three cards. He takes a seat across from you before commenting, “Given by the look on your face, you didn’t get all that lucky.”

“I’m going to win. Mark my words.”

Though you’re as competitive as you can be, luck simply isn’t on your side. Zayne doesn’t help your case, using every card that he has, against your favor. You glare at him with every move he takes, and he smirks, proud of his every move.

“Can you leave me alone? I barely have any points, there’s no point for you to null my card.” You complain, and Zayne shakes his head.

“I have to take every possible precaution.” He answers, putting down a card that takes away your turn– And if that isn’t horrible enough, he takes away one of the kitty cards that you’ve put down. “Last time you won, I heard about it for weeks.”

“Last time I lost, you also heard about it for weeks. Matter of fact, we almost broke up.” You point out, and you watch as the corner of his lips turn. He’s trying his best to fight back a smile, and you have to roll your eyes. “And if you keep up with your act, we might actually break up.”

“It’s just a game of kitty cards.” Zayne says, which makes you glare at him. You cross your arms, a scoff leaving your lips. Just a game of kitty cards? The game becomes a very serious matter when you’re as competitive as you are.

“If you don’t take it seriously, then you should let me win.” You claim, and Zayne knows that unless he stops playing, your date will completely go sour. He just fixed matters after his unnecessary comment, he can’t let himself nearly ruin the date once again. He could try to let you win, but at this point there’s no way you can make a comeback. Plus, it’s not satisfactory for him.

“How about we stop.” He suggests, and you know you can’t win.

“Fine.” You answer, a hint of attitude in your voice just so he notes that you’re not happy with him.

“What were we going to do today?” You ask him, beginning to clear the table. The sight of the unfair game is keeping you mad, so it’s best to clean up. Zayne joins you.

“Stargazing.” He responds, which perks up your eyebrows. Where exactly? “It’s a place not too far from here that gives a perfect view of the city, and I thought it’d be a nice date. I bought a couple of snacks to have a late picnic, but the universe isn’t on my side.”

“That is such a cute date!” You comment, eyes looking out the window to see that the rain has calmed down. “We can still do it.”

Zayne looks in the same direction. It’s not what he pictured, but it’s not a bad idea.

“Just for a minute.” He grabs your hand, fingers intertwining with yours before he guides you outside. Your anger is long forgotten when you feel his large hand lightly squeezing your own. There’s still some light rain when you exit the place, but you aren’t staying outside for too long so it’s not an issue.

“Look, there’s a full moon.” You immediately point to the sky. The clouds had been hiding the moon all night, and now you finally get a chance to glance at it. “Just look at it, it’s so beautiful.”

“It really is beautiful.” He answers, though his eyes aren’t looking at the moon. His thumb traces lazy circles on the back of your hand, as he finally looks up at the sky. Stargazing is a dumb date if you aren’t going to the countryside. In a way, he’s glad his plans were ruined.

You look back at Zayne, a foolish smile coming to your lips. Stargazing would’ve been nice, even if you don’t get a great sight, laying next to him for a whole night is the type of date that you need. You don’t even need to talk, each other’s presence is more than enough for you to be satisfied.

“Why are you smiling?” He finally looks back at you. It’s not a complaint, he’s overjoyed to find you smiling. He just wonders what’s going on in your mind. Two fingers come up to his face, brushing away the hair that’s on his forehead before you get on your tip-toes to press a kiss on it.

“You are so cute.” You tell him, and he chuckles. Out of all words that you could’ve picked, cute is the one that he least expected.

“Cute?” He responds, and you hum in response. Nevertheless, it’s a compliment so he’ll accept it. He smiles back at you, gaze getting lost into your eyes. You have the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen, maybe that’s the reason he’s so desperately in love with you. “Cute. I’ll take it.”

“Let’s go inside before you get sick.” There’s a mischievous smile on your lips as you say the words. He’s the one that usually says the phrase, but the tables have turned. Zayne lets go of your hand, hands falling on your waist before pulling you closer.

“Let’s enjoy the moment a little longer, I don’t mind getting sick.” His nose brushes against yours, his eyes looking into yours ever so lovingly. His supple lips land on yours, pulling away within seconds. “It’s barely even raining.”

“Just a minute then.” You tell him, and he nods in response. However, Zayne doesn’t care to look at the sky. Apart from the full moon, there’s nothing that’s worth noting.

He loves the feeling of the rain on his skin, every droplet is a subtle reminder that this is real. He’s living in the moment. What’s happening right now is not a fragment of his imagination. The way you look at him, the way you laugh, the way your hands wrap behind his neck– It’s all real.

“Okay, we should go now. I don’t want you to get sick… And I also don’t want to get sick.” You say, and he smiles. He lets go of you, allowing you to go inside without an issue. You’re not going inside without him though. You grab Zayne’s hand and drag him inside, knowing that if he gets sick, you’ll end up getting sick as well.

“I’m going to get changed.” You tell him, and he mindlessly follows. He’s seen you naked many times, there’s no need to be shy… Except he is the one that gets shy at the mere thought of seeing you naked. He’s already flustered at the idea of you getting changed; but he still follows.

“What do you want to do now? Watch a movie?” You ask him, getting to the room. There’s a sudden increase in temperature– Or is it just Zayne? Why does he feel hot?

“A movie… Sounds fun.” He swallows thickly, watching as you begin to lift up your shirt. His cheeks turn pink at the sight of some skin, but you never take off your shirt. You notice he’s staring, and you fight back on smirking.

“Do you have something else in mind?” You watch him step towards you, ever so slowly. He’s hesitating. Should he? He doesn’t want to turn the sweet night into something… More. But he does.

He wants to feel every inch of you, and frankly, the shirt that you have on outlines everything which doesn’t really help. Maybe he’s a pervert for the thoughts that creep into his head, but it’s hard to think differently when you look like this right before him.

Before you know it, Zayne’s lips land on yours, tongue exploring your mouth before it finds your own. His tongue presses against yours while his hands desperately try to take off the damp clothes that cover your body. Very skilled hands struggle, nerves overtaking him at the thought of feeling your body. An action he’s done many times before, but he turns into putty each and every time.

You’re not as nervous though, hands going to his belt and unbuckling it without an issue. Your hands go into his boxers, feeling him up which makes the man pathetically whimper into your kiss. He can come undone from a single move. And even when your hands are wrapped around his cock, he’s too nervous to touch under your shirt.

You pull away, a string of saliva connecting your lips until you pull far enough that the bond breaks. You take off your shirt, and Zayne is watching you as if he were a teenager all over again. Cheeks burn red at the sight of some skin, it’s truly pathetic. It’s not just some skin though, you’re getting completely undressed in front of him.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He’s dumbfounded, it’s as if he’s never seen this before. This is nothing new to him, but it always feels like the first time… That’s a good thing, right?

His lips land on yours again, though he takes more risks this time as his hand fondles your breast. His lips don’t last long on your mouth, choosing to kiss down your neck, before his lips land on your breasts. His lips kiss every inch of your skin before his tongue circles around your nipple.

It’s nice, but you need more. Your body is begging to feel every inch of him. Luckily for you, it’s as if Zayne can read your mind.

“I need to taste more of you. Please.” There’s desperation behind his eyes, it’s as if he needs it. You get on the bed for him, legs spreading without a shame in the world.He stares down at you and he licks his lips. Maybe this is how he should’ve led the date in the first place.

“You’re so gorgeous.” He says as he gets on his knees. He kisses your inner thigh, working his way up. So gentle and shy, but he doesn’t want to get ahead of himself. Doing things slowly is what makes this more exciting.

“Smells so sweet.” He finally gets to your pussy, the tip of his nose pressing against your clit before he kisses it. His lips feel so soft on you. He kisses your clit again before his tongue begins to flick it. Tastes even better than he remembered.

Sweeter than he could ever imagine.

Low moans escape your lips as you feel his tongue work on you. The sound of your voice is perfect, all the motivation he needs to do this. It’s his reward for the night, and he couldn’t be happier. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.

He kisses your clit, two long fingers running through your folds to gather your slick. Once his fingers are lubricated enough, he slowly pushes them in. He begins to suck on your clit and your eyes roll to the back of your head. You moan his name, pleasure already consuming you.

He curves his fingers so they hit just the right spot. You bite down your lip, feeling embarrassed at the thought of being too loud. He’s looking up at you, and the look on your face is something he wants to have ingrained in his memory.

His fingers pick up speed, and your hands grip the bed sheets. Pleasure consumes you, your climax slowly overtaking your body. You’re moaning his name again, unable to contain yourself as sex clouds your mind.

“That’s it, baby! That’s so good.” You can’t help yourself as your boyfriend hits all the right spots. It’s music to his ears. Even when he’s been congratulated for his many achievements, this is the best thing he’s ever heard.

Your breath gets caught up in your chest, your body quivering as you finally reach your climax. Zayne pulls out his fingers, tongue continuing to lap at your cunt until he’s finally satisfied. He presses a kiss on your clit when he’s finished.

“I need you, baby. Please.” You say, and Zayne can’t afford to waste another moment. It hurts to even think with the uncomfortable feeling that’s in his pants. He walks to the nightstand to get the bottle of lube before giving all his attention to you. He gets undressed before getting on top of you.

“Are you sure you want this?” Zayne asks as he pours the lube all over his dick. Maybe he should consider some sort of protection, but he needs to fully feel you. He needs to feel every inch of your body.

“I need you, please. Give it to me.” Your voice is enough to drive him wild. He runs the tip of his cock through your folds before slowly pushing himself into you. He bites his lip, not wanting the pathetic noise that leaves his throat to be audible. You feel so nice and warm around his cock, so fucking perfect in every single way.

“It’s so good.” He mutters, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head as he feels you around him. He bottoms out, stopping to give you time to adjust.

“Move.” You tell him, and Zayne begins to move with slow thrusts. His eyes focus on your face, watching as it contorts with pleasure. It’s hard for him to not get nervous when you look like this, so fucking perfect.

“You’re so tight.” He says, hands gripping the bed sheets. Your legs wrap around his waist, hands going to the back of your neck to push him down. Your lips meet his in a messy but passionate kiss.

You drive him insane.

“You’re doing so good, baby.” You praise him, and you hear a groan come from his throat. His thrusts pick up speed, slowly losing himself inside of you. All composure comes undone when it comes to you.

He watches your hand move down your torso, and before you can even finish your thought, his hand takes over. His fingers play with your clit, doing everything just right. Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, moaning his name over and over again.

“Fuck.” He curses, a word that rarely leaves his lips. But what else can he say when you’re squeezing around him? He shuts his eyes, too overwhelmed by everything that goes on. Your hands go to his back, nails digging into his soft flesh which makes him moan– The slight pain heightens the pleasure.

“Zayne, I’m gonna–” You begin, pleasure overtaking your body as another climax approaches. Zayne hits all the right spots, he simply knows your body too well.

“I know, dear. I know.” He’s out of breath. He’s close too. It’s just too much for him to handle. But you’re one step ahead of him. Your nails drag along the skin of his back as pleasure gets the best of you. You see white, finally reaching your high.

“Good job.” He praises you, knowing that he’s not going to last much. You’re just too much for him, which in the context, is a wonderful thing. His thrusts get sloppy, getting more vocal by the second.

“Can I finish inside?” He asks, and you frantically nod your head, not even having the words to say yes. You pull him into a kiss, and he groans into it as he releases his warm cum into you. A dragged out sigh leaves his lips when he pulls away from the kiss.

He stays buried inside of you, not wanting to leave your warmth just yet. He stares into your eyes for a bit, getting lost in them once again. There’s a certain spark in them, one that he’s noticed only appears when you look at him. The same spark that appears in his eyes.

“Can we cuddle?” You ask him as he pulls out of you. He lays down beside you, turning his head to look at your sweaty face.

“Clean up first.” He says, though you don’t listen and nuzzle up next to him. He rolls his eyes, but he still wraps his arms around you. “I admit, this is much better than stargazing.”

“We could’ve done that there too.” You respond without missing a beat, and his face gets completely red. He definitely wasn’t imagining that. He supposes that you could’ve, but it wouldn’t be as special– It would be even more special, it just would be indecent.

“I like it better here.” He tells you, pressing a kiss on the top of your head. “It’s warm, and there’s no bugs around.”

“You’re right.” You chuckle. “Could you imagine if a mosquito bit you–”

“How about I run you a bath?” Zayne cuts you off, knowing that the question that’s about to leave your lips is absurd. He doesn’t want to hear it.

“Will you join me?” You question, getting off him. He takes a moment to look at you before nodding in response.

A bath sounds nice.

1K notes · View notes

osaemu · 1 year ago

Text

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ KISSIN' AND HOPE THEY CAUGHT US ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: you and him kiss—a lot—while the stream's still going, but neither of you notice

contents: fem!reader. pda written by someone who doesn't particularly like pda. gets a little suggestive around the end. inumaki tells satoru 'kys' multiple times. not proofread.

author's note: kissin' and hope they caught us, whether they like or not, i wanna show you off, i wanna show you offff

"i swear you guys are really out to get me," satoru groans, addressing the flood of comments filling up his chatbox. he spins around in his chair, tilting his head back and exhaling when he stops. you watch him shake his hair out of his eyes and grin at the camera, just like he does every time he's getting ready to end the stream.

"okay, guys, that's enough, i gotta go," satoru says, right on cue. he partially turns around and shoots a rueful smile your way, taking a quick moment to admire the way you look all cozied up on his couch. and it's only an added bonus that you're even wearing his hoodie—the same one he wore on your first date.

turning back to the screen, satoru stretches his arms and waves. "see ya tomorrow, can't wait. except for you, toji, and inumaki too. fuck you guys," he adds, snorting when he sees their replies just a moment later.

inumaki: kys!!!

inumaki has been kicked from the stream by satoru-gojo.

"aw, and we were almost about to set a new streak of one day without me kicking inumaki," satoru sighs, shaking his head dramatically. "maybe one day we'll even make it to two streams, but i think that'll take a couple centuries." satoru laughs and waves offhandedly, clicking the 'x' in the corner of his stream to end it.

he switches tabs to go back to his previous game's stats and turns around again, spinning his chair to face you. satoru opens his arms and beckons you with both his hands, a puppy-like shine in his eyes. "c'mere, lemme hold you for a little," he says, smiling wider when you begrudgingly get up from your spot on his couch.

"i was so comfy," you mumble, wrapping your arms around yourself as you walk over to satoru. if his stream was still on, you'd probably be on camera now.

"i'll make you even comfier," satoru insists, grabbing your hand and tugging you into his lap. his arms snake around your waist and hold you snugly against his chest, hands slipping into the pockets of your hoodie. "you look so cute, wearin' my hoodie like that," he smiles, kissing your cheek affectionately.

"satoru, your lips are cold," you grumble, leaning away from his mouth—but you don't put that much distance between you two, considering his snug grip on your torso. satoru ignores your protests and kisses you again, peppering kisses all over the side of your face.

"you're so—fuckin'—cute," satoru murmurs, punctuating each word with a kiss. his lips are soft and you can feel them warm up a little more with each press to your cheek. his minty breath tickles your face as he whispers sweet nothings against your skin, decorating your face with his lips.

"what's the occasion?" you ask tentatively, looking at satoru's blushing face out of the corner of your eye. he tilts his head and shrugs, and you feel his chest rise and fall as he does so.

"do i need an excuse to kiss my girlfriend?" satoru replies cheekily, rubbing your tummy through the pockets of your hoodie. "my hands are cold, baby, wanna warm them up?"

"huh—"

satoru doesn't wait for an answer before he tugs your hands into your pockets with his, hiding a smile at the little indignant sound you make. "you're so cute, i just wanna eat you up," satoru mumbles, scrunching up his nose. his white hair falls into his eyes for the thousandth time, and he blows out a puff of air in an attempt to clear up his vision. it doesn't work—his hair just falls right back into his eyes.

so you extract your hands from where they're clasped in between satoru's and brush back his hair, fingertips lingering on the sides of his face. he turns his head and presses his lips to the palm of one of your hands, cold lips curling into a smile at the cat-like look on your face.

"how was the stream today?" you ask, leaning into his chest. satoru shrugs again, kissing the top of your head.

"fine, i won a couple rounds," satoru says indifferently. his attention is on you, only you—right now, his stream and his games are at the back of his mind. "don't change the subject, baby."

you huff in disbelief, nudging your elbow against his chest. "what even was the subject?"

"me wanting to eat you up," satoru replies instantly. he grins playfully, hugging you tighter and burying his face in your hair. "c'mon, you know you wanna—"

the flickering red dot in the top-right corner of his screen catches your eye, and you practically flinch out of his arms. satoru looks at you, confusion evident on every part of his face. "what is it, baby?"

you groan and lean away from him and closer to his table, dragging the mouse over to one of his tabs and clicking it open. and just like that, satoru realizes that this entire time you've been live. to thousands of people. for five whole minutes.

"oops," satoru says with a sheepish smile, scratching his head bashfully. you turn and shoot a venomous look at him, and he laughs nervously. "oh, uh, that's my bad, honey—"

"you're dead," you mutter, grinning when satoru shrinks back into his chair. satoru swallows and gives you a thumbs-up, gently nudging you out of the way to check the comments.

yuuji-itadori: aw they're so cute together :)

toji-fushiguro: she can do so much better

inumaki: how does this loser have more streams than me. kys kys kys!!!!!

inumaki has been banned from the stream by satoru-gojo.

7K notes · View notes

sharkikive · 7 months ago

Note

Ken Sato with a supermodel!reader pls pls pls

Like they're dating in secret but accidentally reveals their situation and their fans go wild

OMG sure! Sorry this took time for me to write and I really do hope you'll like it <3

runway to your heart (ken sato x supermodel!fem!reader)

Summary: A baseball player and a supermodel, both celebrities in their respective fields. A relationship that had to be kept under wraps.

It was supposed to be a secret... until it wasn't.

Word count: 6,913

CW: Fluff, slightly suggestive (he def talks you through it), Ken Sato being the boyfriend of the year

A/N: I tried my best in writing this because I am not familiar with both fields (baseball and modelling) so here you go! This was purely out of my own imagination and is very, very self-indulgent because damn, who wouldn't want Ken Sato in their life? Rich, soft spoken, a good father, and the list goes on. Hope you enjoy this one just like how I kicked my feet every single time Ken becomes THE boyfriend.

***

Cheers erupted throughout the whole stadium and through the speakers, mixing in with the noise in the dressing room.

Hair rollers tucked in, brush with powder dancing across your face, and a neutral expression to let the makeup artist do his magic. Your eyes dutifully closed as the artist worked on your eyelids, but your ears got sharper to hear the conversations around you.

You knew who the main topic in the room would be, and that was the man that had just scored another point in the game on screen.

“Oh God,” you heard one of your model colleagues groan. “Ken Sato is too attractive. Look at that smile, that body-” she stopped talking and addressed you next. “Y/N, isn’t Ken Sato so handsome? Imagine being his girlfriend. That would be a-ma-zing.”

Your eyes were still closed and you hummed an immediate reply. “He’s okay. I’ve seen better and-” You opened your eyes when the makeup artist told you that he’s done with your eyes. “He seems like a cocky bastard.”

Your colleague, Hina, gave an exaggerated gasp as she heard your reply. “You did not just say that about Ken Sato. If he isn’t your type, I wouldn’t know who else would be able to satisfy you. He is the most sought-after man.”

You shrugged. “You never know. Maybe I like a single dad who has to raise a kid on his own, with him himself having daddy issues.”

Hina narrowed her eyes at you suspiciously, before prancing over and stared at you. “You know that whatever you described was very specific? Y/N,” she said, almost quietly, “are you seeing someone?”

“Yeah, I’m seeing you, Hina.”

She clicked her tongue. “You know, you always answer so smartly. One day, Y/N, I will discover your secret!”

You chuckled, watching as Hina got dragged by the stylist, prepping her to get her up to the runway. Your turn was still a long way to go, so you were left with your hair held up by rollers, while your eyes caught a notification on your phone. You read the notification and smiled, but quickly returned to a neutral expression.

The message read: It’s another win for us tonight, baby. Can’t wait to see you after this. Good luck for your show today, and break a leg. I know you’ll do great.

You typed in a reply, quickly snapping a picture of your prepped face and sending it over to the recipient. You weren’t even able to put down your phone when the next reply came in the next second.

You swore, this person could make you smile without even knowing, which could be a very risky thing considering the nature of both of your relationship.

Looking gorgeous as always, baby. The text message read. I really am the luckiest man to have you.

You put down your phone as your name was called over; your turn was approaching fast. You were practically floating around from one point to another, having different hands adding last-minute touch ups.

The line was moving fast before it was your turn, and you could see that every one of the models who finished their turn returned with a grim look on their faces backstage. You looked at the small entrance, and when you spotted Hina, you quickly signaled for her to come over.

“Was the runway condition that bad?” you whispered to her, whose hair was going in different directions at once.

“They said they wanted to simulate an ‘extreme condition’ on the runway, right?” She did quotation marks.

You nodded, agreeing to her. “Yeah.” You inched up the line. “The theme for today’s show is extreme weather.”

Hina exhaled slowly as she attempted to fix her hair. “All I can say is that they managed to replicate it well.” She shook her head. “Good luck, Y/N. You’ll need it.”

You turned your head back to the front, your turn coming closer as the models in front of you went out to continue the show. It was a rapid show, where you finally had your turn right after Hina disappeared behind a row of clothes.

You understood what Hina meant as soon as one foot was out from behind the scenes. The runway was boxed within a transparent glass, protecting the simulation from the audience.

From years of experience, you put on your best face before walking down the runway, doing your best in showing off the collection.

You were sure they were trying to imitate a blizzard, but the worst they could offer to models wearing heavy dresses and high heels. You saw the model in front of you fall first, the strong winds knocking her back before as she couldn’t fight it back.

One rule on the runway: you keep on walking, no matter the condition. Walk over your fellow models, maintain your expression and show off what you have. It’s an unapologetic world out here.

But that’s exactly the reason why you’re known as the rule breaker around here.

While maintaining your face, you did a show of reaching out to the fallen model, helping her up to let her continue, but you figured this time around, being a rule breaker did have its consequences.

You knew the fallen model; she considered herself as your rival, always trying to one up you in every single aspect. Every, single, aspect including boasting about having a ‘sweetheart’ while you don’t.

Your rival, Mei, quickly took this as a chance to get back at you and embarrass you in front of the audience. She accepted your hand at first, but you realised that she was pulling you down instead of pushing herself up. Not enough with it, she added an extra push, disguised under the pretext of accepting your help to get up.

You were thrown to the side, and coupled with the condition on the runway, you almost tumbled off the path. Luckily, you managed to break the fall but as you landed sideways, you could feel the bruise forming near your right ankle. You cursed silently as you saw Mei picking herself back up and smirking in a split second before strutting away, leaving you stranded.

You knew no one was going to help you up as long as the show was on, so you braced yourself while continuing. Throughout the whole show, you managed to finish without breaking rhythm. You didn’t let the pain hinder you, although all you wished to do was to be lying down, giving your body a much needed rest.

Backstage after the end of the show, your manager, a sweet woman in her 40s, quickly rushed to you. A single mother of 2, Ms. Tornado as you’d like to call her, as she always seemed like she was caught up in something chaotic. She fussed over you, but you quickly brushed her away.

”Ms. Tor,” you cooed, hiding the pain with a calm demeanour, “I’m done for the day. Let’s go back.”

On the way out, you gave a signal of reassurance towards Hina, who looked worried while her right fingers were tapping on her left knuckles. You saw Mei smirking at you, offering no words to you. You gave her no satisfaction of seeing you in pain as you smiled back.

You knew that everyone had seen you fall on the runway, but that didn’t disturb you.

Your phone pinged with a notification. As you read the message in the car, you turned to Ms. Tornado on the driver’s seat. She understood your signal.

”Usual place?” she asked.

Unable to hide your excitement, you quickly nodded.

No further questions asked as she drove towards the city border, bringing you to one special spot you had practically owned with that one person. In fact, you’re sure that he had bought ownership over the whole area. Your smile grew wider as you spotted the person waiting on a camping chair with an empty one next to it, a campfire lit up.

You sneaked up from behind, forgetting the pain in your legs as you broke into a run, almost causing the person to tumble forward as you hugged him from behind.

”Kenji!” You exclaimed, your character a total 180 degrees from whatever you put on when you were ‘the supermodel who revived the fashion scene’.

With him, you allowed yourself to be comfortable; no pretense of having to check your posture, controlling your expressions or giving off a cold demeanour. With him, you were just Y/N, the girl who preferred to be nested in your home, finishing your time up by watching your same favourite shows over and over again.

Kind of ironic how you considered yourself an introvert yet landed a job that essentially thrusted you into the spotlight.

Kenji exclaimed your name back in the same energy you gave him, hugging your arms as he planted a kiss on the back of your hand. He stood up and dear God, you love this man so much. One of your features that contributed to your modelling career was your height, but you loved the fact that even then, he towered over you.

Ken Sato, the name that had revived Japan’s baseball team, who had acquired a celebrity status after essentially becoming the saviour.

Ken Sato, the man who had kept the audience on the edge of their seats as he scored yet another point in the game.

Ken Sato, the one man who had essentially saved your life while unironically revealing his one kept secret to you.

And Ken Sato, your boyfriend.

Though both of your relationships had to be kept under the radar due to your statuses, you were content with what you’re having now.

Who cares if people think you’re too ‘cold’ and that’s why no one wants you? A small smile played on your lips as you thought, Well, Ken Sato does.

How both of you met was bizarre, to say the least. You were out eating dinner alone, under the disguise that you always wore when you’re just a ‘normal’ citizen, when the ground shook. You were sure that there was a monster attack somewhere, but you were calmly eating dinner when the restaurant’s roof got lifted up.

Ultraman’s giant figure was punching the monster, and you were left gaping at the sudden loss of roof above your head. You quickly finished up your dinner, and when you were about to walk back to your condo, you saw the one thing that you were sure you shouldn’t.

You saw Ultraman shifting back into a human-sized figure and lo and behold, it was Ken Sato. Before, you never bothered to dig deeper into his life because you figured out that you would never be affiliated with the baseball scene. You knew he was famous and that was it.

You couldn’t believe your eyes so you gasped, but your hand wasn’t quick enough to muffle the sound until he turned back to look at you. Both were stone statues for a good minute before he finally spoke up at that time, “Um… can you keep… uh the… secret?”

You sure as hell did keep the secret that even after a drunken stupor, a one night stand then turned into a secret relationship with him, it was still safe with you.

You were so comfortable with him up to the point that it was nice to be yourself with him.

”What’s wrong, baby?” He planted a kiss on your forehead, bringing you back to the present. You inhaled his scent as you buried your face in his chest. “You’re thinking of something?”

You shook your head, tightening your grip around his waist. “Nah,” you mumbled. “Just thinking about the time we first met.”

He chuckled as he ruffled your hair. “I’m sure you did great in your show just now, hmm?”

You stayed quiet, debating or not whether you’d like to tell him what actually happened. He most likely hadn’t seen the show yet, but sooner or later he’d find out. It’s just a matter of now or later.

You were in your comfortable clothes; baggy t-shirt with cargo pants and hair tucked underneath a beanie. In public, people would usually leave you alone when you’re in this attire. Today though, the long pants were also an attempt for you to cover up the growing bruise.

You decided to keep quiet about the bruise, figuring later that he would find out and by then, you hoped it wouldn’t look as bad as it was now. You detached yourself from his hug, careful to not make it so obvious that you were limping. You took a seat, beckoning for him to come over.

Ken traced you with his eyes, lips locked before he smiled. He passed by his seat but didn’t settle down. Instead, he sat cross-legged on the sand, facing you. He leaned forward, crossing his arms with each other on your legs and rested his chin on top. He looked up at you, that same boyish smile he had whenever he was with you.

You looked at him, uttering, “Looks like my boyfriend won yet another game today.” You patted his cheeks, and he quickly grabbed your hands to hold them.

”It was the team, really,” he said humbly, but with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “I was just one of the players.”

”Whatever you say, Mr.-eligible-bachelor-with-thousands-of-adoring-fans-waiting-to-be-picked.” You rolled your eyes.

He chuckled. “Little do they know,” he drew circles on your palm, “that I’m no longer available.”

He stared at you as you looked into the distance, the crashing of the waves filling in the silence between both of you. He stood up, cocking his head towards the shoreline. “Wanna go for a walk?”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, the trouble you had with your feet coming once again. You didn’t get a chance to answer as he knelt in front of you with his back towards you.

He gently pulled you on his back, your legs dangling on either side of his body as he piggybacked you. “Okay, let’s go for a walk,” he said, firmly placing his hands under your thighs.

You said nothing, circling your arms around his shoulders, your face buried at the nape of his neck. You loved the fact that you’re always calm around him, something that you’d always need after spending hours in a fast-paced environment for work every day.

As you walked along the shoreline, both of you pointed out stars shaped like objects, and he stopped at one point when you suddenly said, “I love you so much, do you know that?”

He laughed. “What’s with the sudden confession? I love you too, baby.” He gave your thigh a light slap. “And I’m glad to call you mine.”

”It’s time to go back, isn’t it?” You asked, hoping the answer would be no but knew the world would have to end for it to be.

He threw back his head to get a look of your face before uttering, “Sorry. I have a game tomorrow.”

You pouted slightly but knew that the circumstances wouldn’t change. Whether you’d like it or not, even though you didn’t mind your relationship was playing this way, both of you had your individual lives that didn’t intersect with each other.

Dates would always be a secret with limited areas you could go to, and you had to make sure you’re not seen within the vicinity of each other. If both of you needed to go to each other’s house, it felt more like you’re on an undercover mission.

Today, though, with you still on his back, he held onto you firmly and made his way back to his bike parked nearby some bushes.

”Kenji-“ you started, figuring that maybe he forgot that both of you were supposed to follow separate ways.

”Tell Ms. Tornado you’re staying at my house tonight,” he uttered, placing you on his bike’s seat, taking a helmet and helping you to put it on. “You’re sleeping at my house today.” He checked his watch. “I know that you don’t have any work scheduled for the next few days, right?”

You shook your head slowly, secretly happy that he actually kept track of your schedule. Your eyes searched for his from behind the visor, and you blinked slowly as he tapped your helmet.

“Stay at my house until you’re fully healed. Mina can take care of you.” He’s referring to the supercomputer his parents had programmed. He wore his helmet and leaned forward. If not for both of your helmets in place, he’d be resting his forehead against yours. “Of course, you’re welcome to continue staying until…” he winked, “whenever.”

He positioned himself in front of you, powering up his bike. You leaned forward, circling your arms around his waist.

Before your voice got swallowed by the roar of his bike, you said, “You knew I was hurt.”

Underneath his helmet he smiled. “I always do, baby. Always.”

***

One of the reasons you didn’t want to stay at his house for too long was because you knew you’d be too comfortable. It seemed that after the fiasco you ran into with Mei, Ms. Tornado told you that she was suspended from any work and your agency gave you time off.

So here you were, warm mug of coffee in hand, cross-legged on Ken’s sofa while wearing one of his hoodies. So far from your side, your manager was the only person who’d known about your secret relationship with the baseball player. You’re grateful that your agency was not the type to pry into your private life, so long it didn’t affect your work.

You made yourself right at home at Ken’s house. You could say that you became best friends with Mina, with her occasionally sharing stories about how Ken was when growing up and you helping her around the house.

You sunk in the plush sofa, watching a live show of another one of Ken’s games. You saw him turn to the camera, winked and did a secret sign that was directed at you. Seeing how he’s so expressive, you wondered whether Ken actually wanted your relationship to be public.

Even then, you wondered whether anyone actually noticed that Ken started doing the same pose to the camera whenever he scored a point, after he got into the relationship with you. Maybe the secrecy of your relationship was just held back by a single click to post on the Net.

As far as you knew, only five were aware of this relationship; both of you, your manager, Mina and Kenji’s father.

Rather than your own reputation, you’re worried more for Ken’s image. He just moved here from America, carrying the expectations of everyone who had set their eyes upon him. He rose to fame real quick, while you’d already established your foundation right in your hometown as you were raised through a family generation of models.

Night was approaching, and you did catch a message from Ken updating you that he would be joining the group dinner to celebrate their win first. He promised to come back as soon as the dinner was finished. While waiting for him, you caught Mina’s red bar from the corner of your eyes and you smiled at her.

“Y/N, Ken had actually asked me to ask you one important question.”

“Sure, what is it, Mina?”

Immediately, Mina displayed a projection showing a website of a furniture store. She changed the page to the ‘bed frames’ category.

“I was told that the bed broke last night. Ken told me this morning to ask you which ones would you prefer,” Mina said without any hint of emotion. “He didn’t want to disturb you while you’re sleeping this morning.” After remembering another point she added, “He said make sure to pick the strong ones.”

You, on the other hand, were already burying your face in your hand as your cheeks reddened. “Oh my God,” you groaned. He could go one day, one day, without making you blush. It didn’t help that Mina was delivering the message so robotically. Well, she was one, but you get the point. “Mina, can we talk about this… some other time? Don’t worry,” you pressed your lips into a thin line as you remembered how exactly the bed broke last night. “I’ll tell Ken that you delivered the message well.”

Mina backed up, doing her gesture akin to a nod. “Sure, Y/N.”

You turned your head towards the front door when you heard the door opening, and you stalked your way to your boyfriend, who was holding his jacket in his left hand. Your face fell when you saw that he was wincing, the skin near his eye bruised and his right hand gently pressing over the injury.

“What happened to you?” You fussed over him, requesting Mina to take a bucket of ice and a cloth. “Who did this?”

He winced once again, but grinned soon after. He threw his jacket on the sofa and grabbed your waist, kissing you, hard. It was like he was releasing whatever pent up frustrations he had the whole day, drunk in your kiss that you felt out of breath as soon as he let go.

You saw Mina hovering nearby, clearly not wanting to disturb both of you. You cleared your throat and Ken ran a hand through his hair.

Mina set down the requested bowl of ice and cloth, but Ken shook his head.

Ken uttered, “Mina, can you please bring a bucket of ice to the bathroom? I’d like to soak myself in the tub.”

“Sure, Ken.”

“Ken, you need to tell me what happened to you. You’re injured, for God’s sake!” Your eyebrows knitted in worry, but your boyfriend was displaying the opposite as he was happily dragging you along to the bathroom.

He only gave you a peck on your forehead as Mina helped to prepare the bath.

You wouldn’t let your eyes off his injuries, assessing how badly he was hurt. As Mina excused herself to leave both of you in the bathroom alone, he stripped and stepped into the tub. The water sloshed around as he settled down, and you gritted your teeth as you sat on the edge of the bathtub.

He lifted up his eyebrows, clearly teasing you. “Care to join me?”

You sighed, clearly dissatisfied at how he’s acting while not disclosing about what had happened to him until he returned with a black eye. You crossed your arms, not wanting to submit to his pleading eyes, not until he told you what happened.

Clearly, you were not strong against this man because now both of you were stark naked in the cold water, Ken hugging you from behind as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Now tell me what happened.”

Ken obliged. “So we went for a celebratory dinner at this one grilled meat restaurant.” He buried his face at the nape of your neck. “There was this one group of guys who clearly were too drunk. One of them,” you felt his arms tightening around your waist. “Was making inappropriate comments about your body. My girlfriend. Of course I got pissed and punched him. It was an easy fight, but I was unlucky to get this one hit. I won, of course.”

The knot in your stomach got undone, that heavy feeling finally lifting off as you laughed, relieved. You leaned backwards, muttering, “Oh, Kenji. My idiot Kenji. I really thought you had an encounter with a hater, someone that wasn’t afraid to punch you in public just because they hate you. I was so worried. But didn’t your teammates suspect anything? For you to react that way when they’re talking about me.”

“Even if they do find out, it doesn’t matter. Anyone who speaks like that about you deserves to be punched, baby.” The water sloshed around as he turned you around so that both of you were facing each other. He rubbed a thumb over your lips, his mouth lifting at the corners. “And guess what?”

You narrowed your eyes. “What?”

“I got a personal invitation from one of the biggest sports brands here. They’re inviting me for an official photo shoot for their new attire collection.”

“That’s amazing, Kenji!” you exclaimed, and he shook his head, a smile plastered on his face.

“And you know what’s the best part? It’ll be a duo photo shoot, a collab with one of Japan’s famous models.”

“A man?” you asked, still clueless.

“A woman.” He grinned, “With my woman.”

“Oh!” You slapped a hand to your forehead, not believing that you hadn’t caught on when your manager had told you that you would be having an upcoming photo shoot with one of the most famous athletes. No wonder Ms. Tornado looked all smiley when she was delivering the news.

“They were surprised when I agreed to it without much questions,” he said. “Said yes as soon as I heard your name.”

***

Your leg was all healed, Ken’s bruise subsided, and it was finally the day of the photo shoot. Obviously, both of you had to come from a different place and at a different time to avoid any suspicion, so the night before you had returned to your house, despite Ken showing you his puppy eyes to make you stay.

You left without looking back, having to reassure him that both of you would see each other tomorrow.

The day came. In the makeup room, both of you had your lips locked, only a slight nod of greeting when he first came in before you returned your attention back to the mirror in front.

God knew how much Ken Sato was holding back from pulling you into a hug as soon as he saw you in the room.

You saw him from the corner of your eyes, his eyes closed as he let the brushes and artist do their work. You smiled, your mind thinking about how Hina would most likely go crazy once she heard that you had landed a job with this famous baseball player. You figured that you’d let her find out by herself once the official photo shoot had come out.

In the studio, both of you exchanged a formal greeting before the photo shoot started, and you could see that Ken was trying to hide from forming a smile on his face. As the camera started clicking and poses were thrown, you could hear the photographer yelling out encouragement, including ‘Don’t be shy with each other’ and ‘Stand closer’.

You heard Ken slightly snicker, and he whispered to you subtly, his lips slightly brushing your earlobe. You shivered, and he was smart enough to not let anyone see what he was doing. “If only they know how close we are.”

“Last set!” The photographer announced. “This time around, I’d like to see some contact with each other. No looking like you’re two magnets repelling each other, but attracting each other instead.”

“Oh I can do that,” Ken said smugly as he followed the photographer’s instructions.

Funnily enough, he was the one looking like he had more experience in modelling as he followed the photographer’s instructions to a T, while you felt more like a deflated balloon guided by your boyfriend.

You promised you were a professional model, but with him, well, you faltered and posed like you’re a novice instead. Still, you managed to pull through the photo shoot as the photographer gave a thumbs up, fully satisfied with the session today.

You took some time to relax after the photo shoot alone in the dressing room. As you were leaning against the chair, your head turned to look at the door that just opened.

Ken’s head popped up through the space and he waved his hand. “Hey,” he whispered. He looked over his shoulder before slipping into the room, locking the door behind him.

“Ken Sato,” you said, more of a warning. “What if someone sees you coming in?”

“It’s fine,” he walked over to you, and lifted you up in a hug.

Naturally, your legs coiled around him as he firmly placed his arms around you.

“I wanted to say goodbye in person before I leave for my game this evening. You’ll watch the game live, right?”

“Of course, I’ll be there.”

You practically jumped away from him as a knock came on the door and panicked, you opened the closet door before shoving him inside. You shut the closet tight, catching his eyes trailing your movement through the bars before putting a finger over your lips to signal silence. Steadying your breath, you opened the door to find the photographer standing outside.

“Oh hey, uh…” you trailed off as you realised that you didn’t know the camera man’s name.

“I’m Yuichiro,” he extended his hand to offer a handshake, but you politely declined with a nod of your head. “It’s uh,” he nervously chuckled. “I thought that you looked great and I found out that we’re the same age. I was wondering if you would like to, you know, go have coffee sometime. As in, uh, I’d like to take you out sometime.”

“Oh, really?” You swore you could feel Kenji’s stare digging through the man’s skull as you stole a glance towards the closet behind you. “That’s too bad because I uh,” You silently prayed that Ken wouldn’t suddenly spring out of the closet. “I am too busy. I don’t even have time to drink coffee myself.” You gave a professional smile, hoping that the man would take the hint and walk away.

“Not even coffee?”

“Not even coffee.” You sighed, shaking your head. “I don’t drink coffee, actually.”

“Oh.” He looked surprised. “But I thought I saw you drinking coffee this morning at the set.”

You shook your head, pretending to be disappointed. “I’m afraid you are hallucinating, my friend. I don’t drink coffee. Anyway,” you clapped your hand, “I need to get ready to go to my next destination for another photo shoot, so if you could please leave?”

He looked disappointed as he nodded. “I mean, yeah. Please go on your way. Sorry to take your time.”

You smiled politely but as soon as you closed the door and locked it, you jumped over to the closet, the door creaking as you pried it open. You saw Ken sitting on the floor, elbows resting on his knees as his bangs curtained his eyes. You sat down in front of him, moving his bangs out of his vision.

“Kenji…?” you started, trying to gauge his emotions.

He stayed quiet for a few moments, and you poked his stomach when it seemed like he’s not budging.

“Are you okay?”

He breathed in and out, before looking up. His eyes caught yours, but still you couldn’t read his expressions. “I experienced this new emotion,” he finally said.

You inched forward.

“You’re doing great, baby.” The compliment came out of nowhere that you were slightly taken aback.

“Kenji,” the grin on your face grew wider, “were you jealous?”

He never broke off his stare to you, and you found it so attractive. “I was.” His eyes dropped to your lips. “I was stopping myself from jumping out of the closet and announcing that you’re mine.”

“I am,” you uttered, ruffling his hair. “You better get going. You have a game to win.”

“I sure do.” He stood up and you mirrored his actions. Before he turned to leave, he kissed you on the lips and whispered again as he peppered kisses on your neck. “With this jealousy, let’s just hope the bed won’t break again tonight.”

***

Of course you lied to the photographer to politely decline his advances. Your schedule was free this evening and you had promised Ken you would see his game live. You dressed as inconspicuously as possible, donning on the merchandise jersey they sold to the public.

Ken had offered you to wear his jersey, but that would practically mean announcing your relationship to the public. Tucking your hair under the cap, putting on fake glasses and looking at yourself in the mirror, you figured how Clark Kent had managed to turn people’s suspicions away from him being the superhero.

Now, you’re just one person among the thousands of show-goers filling up the stadium. You took up your seat, eager to witness the game Ken would be joining. Announcement blared throughout the stadium, signalling that the game was about to start. You heard your boyfriend’s name announced as he stepped onto the field.

Giants’ supporters cheered for him, and you joined in on the hype as you saw him giving his million-dollar smile to the crowd. You waited for the game to start, and truth be told, no matter how many times Ken had explained the rules of the game, anything barely stuck to your brain. Still, you tried your best to support him even though that meant cheering for him blindly whenever the others did.

The crowd went wild again as the Giants scored yet another point.

You got distracted by a notification coming to your phone. You wanted to ignore it, but as you saw Hina’s name as the sender, you had to sit down and open the message. She rarely texts you out of work, so there must have been something out of the ordinary. You felt your heart drop as you read the message, and a link towards a news website was sent together.

Your eyes caught her message first. Oh my God?! You’ve been dating Ken Sato?

You read the headline next. BREAKING NEWS: BASEBALL PLAYER KEN SATO AND SUPERMODEL Y/N IN A RELATIONSHIP?

You stood up together with the rest of the cheering crowd, but you had to wrestle your way through to make your way out of the stadium. You didn’t know what to do, Kenji was still in game and your feet almost gave way as your shaky hands opened the link to read the news.

Everything was summed up in one news article, and you felt your world getting smaller as you saw the pictures of the night Ken had piggybacked you after you hurt your leg, all obviously looking like they were taken in secret. You read through the whole article, your ears deafened by the sound of roaring cheers inside the stadium.

You were standing outside the stadium, and you looked back at the giant screen you could see displaying yet another shot of Ken doing his signature pose to the camera. You turned back to the news article in your hands, and read through the whole thing over and over again. Several lines caught your eyes, and you finally caught on who was behind this.

Photographer Yuichiro handed over the pictures of the two lovebirds having a secret date at the private beach, which was purportedly owned by Ken Sato. From the pictures taken, I’m sure everyone would come to one very obvious conclusion. The question is; do you find the relationship surprising, or are they a perfect match for each other?

You wondered if it was all planned by him; the photo shoot together with Ken. Was he testing to see whether you’d accept a date with him to assume whether you’d have a boyfriend or not?

You wanted to run away. But from what, exactly? Running away wouldn’t solve this problem.

Well, if it turned into a problem.

Cheers erupted again as you returned to the stadium, just in time to see the final score and then celebrating the Giants’ victory. Chanting swimmed through the crowd, and you gripped your phone tightly as you searched for Ken among the players.

You finally spotted him at the bench, and your mind was as equally noisy as the audience around you.

He looked in your direction, trying to search for you but before he could catch your eyes, his shoulder was tapped by a fellow teammate, showing him an article displayed on the screen.

Everything happened fast, you didn’t know that it was possible as your worst fear came to life in front of everyone. The giant screen in the stadium displayed the news article and the pictures of the both of you displayed in a slideshow. You could hear shouts of confusion and gasps among the crowd as all of them were looking at the same thing.

The noise of the crowd died down as Ken made his way to the edge of the field, where an interviewer was waiting to start the session. The topic of the interview was supposed to be about the win at first, but it had clearly turned into a different direction.

The camera focused on Ken, and you knew he was directly looking at you. He looked calm, the practised smile he had on whenever he appeared on screen.

“Ken Sato,” the interviewer started, as he looked into the camera, “The name that is no longer a stranger to every household. His return to Japan brought waves and hope to the Giants. But today,” she turned to him, “it seemed like you’re the focus on the interview for an entirely different topic. Who knew that this eligible bachelor was actually already taken? I have the man here with me, so, what would you like to say?”

The crowd was obediently silent as they waited for his answer. You felt your heart beating loud in your chest as you, too, anticipated what he would say.

For a split second your mind wondered whether he would vehemently deny the news, but you brushed that thought away. You trusted him.

“I do have a question for everyone here, first, though.” Ken swept his vision across the crowd. “Is it a sin for a celebrity, or at least someone who is quite well known by the public, I mean,” he shrugged, “I don’t wanna sound like I’m boasting or that I’m too full of myself thinking that I’m famous.”

There was a ripple of laughter through the whole crowd.

“Is it wrong for me to be in a relationship?”

Silence. A dread coming over you as you quietly anticipated that there might be protests coming from the crowd. No one spoke up until you heard a female shouting from the crowd, “No, it’s not a sin! Well, we would be slightly sad that our favourite bachelor is no longer available, but you’re still human!”

Your eyes travelled to the female shouting, and realised why the voice was so familiar. It was Hina. She saw you looking at her and she grinned, giving a thumbs-up.

“Thank you, random woman from the crowd,” Ken uttered. He turned back to the camera. “I think that answered the question. I’m still human,” he shrugged, his eyebrows lifting up as he announced, “and I fell in love with Y/N. We are happily in a relationship. I’m proud to say that she’s mine.” His eyes finally fall towards your direction. You could only discern his expressions and gestures from the big screen because he was too far from you. “I love you, Y/N.”

There was a momentary moment of silence that you could hear a pin dropping, and you feared that maybe, the public wouldn’t take it so nicely.

But soon, the whole stadium shook with cheers from the crowd. This time around, they were chanting both Ken's and your names.

Okay, so this was not the reaction that you had expected.

You saw Ken gesturing to you, asking to meet you privately after the game. You nodded, pointing to your phone to say that you would communicate through text.

He sent you a message for the meetup point, and you practically ran towards where he had wanted to meet you.

You saw him at the end of the empty hallway, the noise in the stadium a distant sound now that it was only the two of you. You ran into his arms and he caught you, laughing. You let your breath steady first before saying anything.

“Ken Sato… you…” you started. “You have this way of wording things. I never expected the whole crowd to just agree with you.”

“Hey, look at me.” He tilted your chin, and he gazed upon you. “Like I said, we’re still humans.” He kissed your lips. “And I fell in love with you.”

“Hmm…” You hummed, still feeling slightly worried.

Ken opened the article, scrolled down to the comments and showed them to you. “See, they’re all positive comments.” He cleared his throat, doing his best imitation while reading the comments. “Oh my God, they’re a perfect match for each other! I knew they were dating, it would be weird if they didn't date. Honestly, I don’t know how it happened, but I’m happy for them. Y/N, you’d be better off with me-” He stopped reading when he read one comment that irked him. “You know what, I’m going to report that last comment.”

You burst into laughter seeing how he was tapping furiously at the screen, blowing out an air of satisfaction as he finally reported the comment.

“There, problem solved,” he announced.

“You know that probably some time in the future that there will probably be people who won’t be satisfied.” You sniffed.

“Well that’s too bad.” He bumped his forehead against yours. “Because you’re already mine.”

#ken sato #kenji sato #ultraman #ultraman rising #ken sato x reader #kenji sato x reader #ken sato x you #kenji sato x you #x reader #ken sato x y/n #kenji sato x y/n #ultraman: rising #wr: mine

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snoopychris · 11 days ago

Text

Lunch Date

warnings: sexual activities in a public place, orgasm denial, matt is a Freak with a capitol F.

in which… well you’ll see.

this was so…

dirty. wrong. dangerous. risky. fun.

five different words running through your mind. the only other thing you could think of was matt.

your science teacher had so much trust in the both of you. he was so hopeful that if he left the room to go to his meeting everything would be just fine. everything was not fine. it started out innocent. it was supposed to be innocent.

it was supposed to be a simple game of “doctor.” the lab coat was right there! how were you supposed to go on with your day without slipping it on over your outfit and doing a check up on matt?

if anyone walked in right now, they’d see the way that you were hoisted up on one of the black science lab counters, desperately gripping onto matt’s hair. the scrunchie you previously had on your wrist stuffed in your mouth at an attempts to keep you quiet. it was not working.

for someone who had no sexual experience, his tongue sure was working magic. his grip on your thighs was tight, not tight enough to leave marks, but tight enough to hold you close. one finger was consistently pushing in and out of you, an unusual sensation, but not an unwelcome one. if you were being quite honest, the added fear of being caught almost made you more aroused. matt, who you barely felt was breathing, could definitely feel it.

“matt… matt… matt…” you whimpered, your name slipping through your lips like it was your favorite song. he simply hums in response. he glances up at you for a moment but then goes back to his previous actions, this time taking your clit into his mouth. you gasp at the feeling, further tugging on his hair. “y-you gotta… you gotta breathe baby.” you manage to speak, trying your best to pull him away.

despite your best efforts, matt continues eating like a starved man and his grip on your thighs only tightens.

“can breathe just fine.” his words send a shiver to your core. you should tell him to stop. that lunch is almost over. but you know he’ll tell you how he’s not done eating. not yet anyway.

and then just when you’re on the brink of getting pushed over the edge. just when you’re about to experience the release you’ve been so desperately waiting for… the bell rings. your mouth drops open in shock, the scrunchie touching the floor. matt chuckles when you speak. “matty please don’t stop.” and then he does. he pulls away like nothing even happened. he wipes his lips smoothly and adjusts his hair and glasses, sitting down at his desk. youre in nothing but utter disbelief. you want to strut over and tell him to just do it. that you don’t care if lunch is over. you only care when Mr. Harrison walks back into the room after his meeting.

“you guys okay? didn’t miss anything too interesting did i?” he asks. and matt can do nothing but chuckle and smirk.

dividers by: @issysh3ll

tags!: @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @mattsbrat @wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @isabellewhatt @sturnslutz @chrisscoraline @m4ttg1rl @princessesgarden @ikyoudreamofme @allylovescody

a/n: you guys r SLUTS holyyyy shit. i love u all so dearly thank you all for 400. when i get home im gonna make my blog so cute trust.

#⋆˙⟡snoopychris #⋆˙⟡nerd!matt #⋆˙⟡matt!#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo au #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo series #matthew sturniolo fluff #matthew sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #⋆˙⟡nerd!matt x cheerleader!reader

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itneverendshere · 5 months ago

Text

played me like a clarinet - rafe cameron (three) - finale

request: "Desperately-on my knees-begging for a ''She's all that'' from 1999, with Popular Rafe x Reader. Ooouff, and you want that soul crushing heartbreak when she finds out about the bet he had made" pairing: rafe x smart!nerdy!reader. warnings: more angst <3; part one here; part two

Staying away from Rafe was hard.

It was hard before you two tried to be friends and it’s even harder now that you gave him the no-contact ultimatum. Everywhere you went, it felt like he was there, even if he wasn’t. It was in the songs that played on the radio, in the way the sun set over the patio near your dorm, in the way his, now yours, shirts still smelled like him.

You missed the late-night conversations, the way he’d laugh at your jokes, and how he could read you better than anyone else. But more than anything, you missed the way he made you feel—even if it wasn’t real at first.

Every time your phone buzzed, you stupidly hoped it was him, even though you knew it wouldn’t be. You’d told him to stop, to leave you alone, and he had respected your boundaries even when it seemed like the last thing he wanted to do. And you’re proud of him for it—for once, he’s doing something right. But you’re mostly proud of yourself too, for sticking to your decision, for not letting him back in so easily.

Still, it doesn’t make it any easier.

You thought giving yourself space would help you move on, help you figure out if you could ever really trust him again. But instead, it just left this space where he used to be. You kept wondering how much of it was real for him—if any of it was. Maybe that’s why staying away felt impossible because a part of you wanted to believe he meant some of it, that his feelings weren’t just part of some game.

You had to draw the line, to protect yourself from getting hurt all over again. And even though it hurt to keep him out, you knew it was the only way you’d figure out what you really wanted, without him clouding your judgment.

You tried to move on.

Slowly, cautiously, you started going on dates—nothing serious, just enough to remind yourself that there were other people out there, that Rafe wasn’t the only guy who could make you laugh or feel special. Every few weeks, you’d let yourself get dressed up, put on a smile, and meet someone new.

The first date was awkward, more like a practice run than anything else. You spent most of it comparing the guy to Rafe, noticing all the little things that didn’t measure up. It wasn’t fair to the guy, but you couldn’t help it. He wasn’t Rafe, and that’s all you could focus on. You ended the night with a polite hug and a promise to text, but you knew you wouldn’t.

The second date was better, but not by much. The guy was nice, made you laugh a few times, but there was no spark, no connection that made you want to see him again. You tried to be present, to give him a chance, but your mind kept drifting back to Rafe, to what he would say or how he would react to something. By the end of the night, you felt more exhausted than excited.

After that, you took a break. It was too soon, you told yourself. You weren’t ready to move on yet, and that was okay.

Some days, you almost reached out to him. You’d pick up your phone, scroll through your messages, and your finger would hover over his name. It would be so easy to send a quick text, something casual, just to see how he was doing. But you never did. You knew that one message could ruinl everything you’d worked so hard to build—the distance, the boundaries, the fragile sense of self you were trying to protect.

Instead, you threw yourself into other things. Classes, the cheer squad, hobbies, anything to keep your mind occupied. You spent more time with friends, even though it was hard not to talk about him. You kept the conversations light, steering away from anything that would bring his name up. You didn’t want to be that person who couldn’t stop talking about their ex, who couldn’t let go, even if that’s exactly how you felt inside.

It helped, sometimes.

For brief moments, you’d find yourself genuinely laughing at a joke or losing yourself in a book or a project. But then something small would happen—a song on the radio, a glimpse of someone who looked like him, or the sound of his name in passing—and it would all come rushing back. It wasn’t fair.

You’d think you’d be used to it by now, but each time it felt like a fresh wound. The memory of his laughter, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the way he always knew just what to say—it was as if he left a ghost behind, haunting every corner of your life. And in those moments when you’d catch yourself smiling or feeling light, it was like a betrayal. How could you allow yourself to feel joy when he wasn’t there to share it?

It was like trying to run from a shadow that moved with you, always there, no matter how fast you tried to go.

Every time you thought about him, about how he had hurt you and how you were struggling to move on, it felt like stabbing at an old wound, hoping it would heal faster if you just made it worse. The reality was that you missed him in ways you weren’t ready to admit.

Running into him was inevitable. Despite your best efforts to avoid the places he might be, your college was too small, too intertwined with memories of him.

The first time you saw him after the ultimatum was at a party you had reluctantly agreed to attend. You spotted him across the room, laughing with his friends, looking just as carefree as ever. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest, and for a moment, you felt stuck to the ground. But then he looked up, his eyes meeting yours, and the smile slipped from his face.

It was a small moment, one that no one else seemed to notice, but it felt like the all the air in your lungs had been sucked out. You forced yourself to look away, to focus on the conversation happening around you, but it was impossible to ignore the feeling of his eyes on you.

The second time was worse.

You were at the grocery store, just trying to get through your day when you turned a corner and nearly collided with him. The shock of seeing him so close, so unexpectedly, made you want to disappear on the spot.

You both mumbled awkward apologies, neither of you really saying anything of substance, just trying to avoid the awkwardness. But then he asked how you were.

“I’m fine,” you replied, too quickly, too sharply. The lie tasted bitter on your tongue.

He nodded, and for a moment, it looked like he wanted to say more, to reach out and touch you, but he didn’t. You both stood there, trapped in a painful silence, before you finally made an excuse and walked away, leaving him standing there in the aisle.

After that, the encounters became more frequent. You saw him at the beach, in coffee shops, passing by on the street. Each time, it was the same—an awkward exchange, a few forced pleasantries, and then a quick retreat. It was like the universe was conspiring against you, refusing to give you the space you so desperately needed.

And each time, it hurt just a little bit more. Seeing him in these mundane, everyday moments, like nothing had changed, made it harder to keep up the distance you’d built. It reminded you of all the times when being around him had felt natural, easy, like he was just supposed to be there.

But the worst part was the way he looked at you. Jessica had told you before. He’d never looked at any girl like that. And you stupidly held onto that tiny hope even if you shouldn’t.

You’d been trying to keep it together all night, but the sight of Jessica and Tyler laughing together, so effortlessly in love, was making you bleed inside. The drinks kept coming, one after another, until the room started to blur around you. You didn’t even notice how much you were drinking—only that it was easier to keep swallowing than to think about Rafe.

But the alcohol wasn’t enough to quiet your thoughts.

Instead, it seemed to amplify them, making everything feel sharper, more painful. Jessica and Tyler’s whispered words of affection, the way his hand rested on her thigh, the way she looked at him with pure adoration—You couldn’t stop thinking about how that should have been you and Rafe.

By the time you realized you were too far gone, it was late. You stumbled as you stood up, the room spinning wildly around you. Someone—Jessica, maybe—asked if you were okay, but their voice was muffled, distant. You tried to nod, to say something reassuring, but your legs buckled beneath you, sending you crashing back into your chair.

"Whoa, easy there," Jessica’s voice was sharper now, filled with concern. She crouched down in front of you, her hands steadying you. “You’re not okay. We need to get you out of here.”

You tried to shake your head, to insist that you were fine, but the words wouldn’t come. The room was tilting, spinning, and you couldn’t focus on anything. Your vision was blurry, your limbs heavy, and you realized, with a sinking feeling, that you were too drunk to take care of yourself. You couldn’t even stand up, let alone make it home.

Panic started to set in. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to lose control like this. You weren’t supposed to need help.

“Jess… I’m fine…” The words slurred out of your mouth, but even you didn’t believe them.

“No, you’re not.” Jessica’s voice was firm now, almost authoritative. She glanced around, clearly trying to figure out what to do. The other girls were watching, their laughter fading into worried murmurs, “Baby, can you go and get her some water and sugar, please?”

She gently guided you to lean back, her hand on your shoulder to steady you. You tried to focus, tried to push through the fog in your mind, but everything was slipping away, your thoughts swirling together in a jumbled mess.

“Hey, stay with me, okay?” Her voice was softer now, almost pleading. She wasn’t just a concerned friend at this moment; she was scared. You’d never seen her like this before.

“I—” You started, but the words tangled in your throat. You wanted to tell her that you were sorry, that you didn’t mean to ruin the night, that you just wanted to stop thinking about him for a couple of hours, but all that came out was a garbled sound that barely resembled a word.

“Shh, it’s okay,” she soothed, her thumb brushing lightly against your arm. “We’ll get you out of here. It’s gonna be okay.”

Tyler returned with the water and sugar, and Jessica took the glass, trying to get you to drink. The water felt cool against your lips, but swallowing was harder than it should’ve been. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge of consciousness.

“Come on, just a little more,” Jessica urged. You managed a few more sips before the glass slipped from your grasp, water sloshing onto your lap.

“Jess, I—” You tried again, but before you could finish, you heard another voice, one that sent a jolt through your foggy mind.

He was there, right in front of you, and you knew it was him without needing to open your eyes.

“Jesus Christ,” you heard him mutter. He crouched down, gently lifting your chin so you were forced to meet his eyes. “What the hell happened?”

“She had too much to drink,” Jessica explained quickly, her tone defensive, as if she expected him to start blaming her. “We were just about to get her out of here.”

You tried to smile, to play it off like it was no big deal, but all that came out was a shaky breath. “Too much… too much, Rafe…”

“I can see that,” he said, his tone softening as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. He turned to Jessica, his voice all business now.

You didn’t know how long he had been standing there. Was your brain torturing you? Making you believe he was there?

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he knelt down beside you, his hands grabbing your trembling ones. “Hey,” he said, his voice softer now, as if he was afraid you might break into pieces if he spoke too loudly. “I’m gonna get you home, okay?”

You wanted to say no, to tell him that you didn’t need him, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you just nodded, too tired and too dizzy to fight it.

He exchanged a look with Jessica and she sighed, her worry morphing into something closer to relief. “I’ll help you get her to the car.”

Your legs were useless, and you sagged heavily against his chest. He didn’t hesitate, scooping you up in his arms like you weighed nothing, cradling you against him. His scent surrounded you, familiar and comforting, and despite everything, you found yourself leaning into him, letting your head rest against his shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his breath warm against your temple. “I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?”

You nodded weakly, too exhausted to argue. Your eyes fluttered shut as he carried you out, the sounds of the party fading away behind you.

The ride to your dorm was a blur.

You were vaguely aware of Rafe’s arm around you, of Jessica sitting on your other side, rubbing your back in small circles. The motion of the car made your stomach churn, and you had to close your eyes to keep from getting sick. Uber or not, you weren’t about to ruin someone else’s car.

When you finally arrived, he practically carried you inside while Jess fumbled with your keys before pushing the door open.

He led you to your bed, easing you down onto the mattress.

“I’ll stay with her,” he muttered, his voice leaving no room for argument. Jessica hesitated, looking between the two of you, before nodding slowly.

“Call me if you need anything,” she said to Rafe, squeezing his arm before she left.

You were barely aware of her leaving, still too drunk to process much of anything. He knelt down beside your bed, brushing a stray hair from your face.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he murmured, his voice a soothing lullaby.

You wanted to say something, to tell him that you didn’t need him, that you were fine on your own.

You felt your bottom lip tremble.

He noticed the change immediately, his blue eyes softening as he continued to gently brush the hair from your face. “Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered, his thumb lightly tracing the curve of your jaw. “Just breathe.”

But that only made it worse. You could feel the tears welling up as you realized just how much you’d missed this—missed him. The safety of his presence, the way he always seemed to know what you needed before you did.

Your stomach churned, the nausea that had been building since you first sat in the car finally reaching a breaking point.

“Rafe,” you mumbled, your voice weak and shaky, “I think I’m gonna—”

He reacted instantly, his arms tightening around you as he quickly looked the room. “Okay, okay, just breathe,” he said, “You’re gonn be fine.”

But breathing was the last thing on your mind as the room started spinning faster. You tried to push away from him, your hand gripping his shirt as you fought to keep it down.

“Rafe, I need to throw up,” you managed to gasp, panic rising in your chest.

He didn’t hesitate, scooping you up from the bed and hurrying toward the bathroom. You barely registered the fact he was touching you again after so long, your mind solely focused on the nausea.

He got you to the bathroom just in time, guiding you to the toilet as you collapsed in front of it. He held your hair back with one hand, the other rubbing soothing circles on your back as you retched, the sound of it echoing harshly in the small space.

“It’s okay, I’m right here,” he murmured, grounding you as you emptied your stomach. You could feel the heat of his hand on your back, the gentle way he kept your hair out of the way.

When it was over, you slumped against the cool porcelain, too exhausted to care about anything other than the relief of having the nausea finally subside. Rafe handed you a damp washcloth, and you pressed it against your face, the coolness soothing against your overheated skin.

“Better?” he asked softly, crouching down beside you.

You nodded weakly, unable to meet his eyes. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “Thanks.”

He didn’t say anything, just stayed close, while you avoided his gaze entirely. The room was quiet now, the only sound the slow, steady rhythm of your breathing as you tried to regain some control.

“I’m sorry.”

You felt embarrassed, and vulnerable in a way you hadn’t expected, and you hated every second of it.

“Stop apologizing,” Rafe said gently, his hand still resting on your back.

“Can you… can you stay over?”

You didn’t want to be alone, not tonight, not with the way your heart was aching.

Rafe’s eyes softened, the way they did only for you, and for a moment, you thought he might agree, that he might stay and help you forget, even just for a little while.

But then he shook his head, his expression pained.

“I can’t,” he said, his voice strained, like it hurt him to say it. “You know I can’t, sweets.”

You tried to hold it together, but it was no use. Before you could stop yourself, you were crying—quiet, heartbreaking sobs that you couldn’t control.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he reached out, brushing the tears from your cheeks, but it only made you cry harder. “I’m so sorry.”

You couldn’t even respond, the words tangled up in your throat. It wasn’t just that he wouldn’t stay; it was everything—the confusion, the heartbreak, the way you felt like you were losing him all over again, even though he was right there in front of you.

“Please don’t cry,” Rafe pleaded, his voice breaking. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. “I hate seeing you like this.”

You buried your face in his chest, the sobs shaking your entire body. The warmth of his touch, the familiar scent of him—it was too much, too close to everything you’d been trying to avoid. But you couldn’t pull away. You didn’t want to.

“I just… I just miss you,” you choked out, the words spilling from you in a broken whisper. “I miss you so much, Rafe.”

“I know,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “I miss you too.”

You clung to him, your fingers gripping his shirt like it was the only thing keeping him from disappearing. The tears wouldn’t stop, and neither would the ache in your chest, the one that had been there ever since you’d forced yourself to let him go.

“I wish things were different,” his usually bright eyes were dimmed, his brows drew together as if he was in pain. He looked at you like he was memorizing every detail, like he was afraid this might be the last time, “I keep hurting you.”

His hands trembled slightly as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his touch gentle as his fingers cradled your face. His thumbs brushed away the tears again, but they kept coming, fresh and spilling over. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but all that came out was a ragged breath.

“Please don’t hate me more for this,” he whispered, his voice rough, barely holding back. His eyes searched yours, desperate for reassurance, for something to cling to in this moment that felt like it was tearing you both apart.

“I could never hate you,” you whispered back, the words catching in your throat as the tears continued to fall. It hurt to say it, to admit it out loud.

He left that night.

You had almost convinced yourself that it was better this way, that moving on, that he did you a favor that night by leaving, that keeping him out of your life was the only solution.

Staying away from you was killing him.

⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ

Rafe spent his days trying to distract himself, throwing himself into his studies for the first time in his life, into parties, into anything that would take his mind off you.

But nothing worked. Every time he saw something that reminded him of you, it was like a punch to the gut—a song you liked, a place you used to go together, even the smell of the ocean would bring memories crashing back. He missed you so much it hurt.

And when he saw you, it was even worse. The first time he ran into you after the break, it felt like the world had stopped spinning. He was at a party, trying to forget, trying to lose himself in the noise and the crowd, when he saw you across the room. For a moment, he thought he was imagining it, that his mind was playing tricks on him. But then your eyes met his, and his heart almost stopped.

You were as beautiful as ever, maybe even more so, but there was something different about you—something guarded, distant. But before he could even think about crossing the room to talk to you, you looked away, your expression closing off, leaving him standing there like an idiot, staring after you.

He’d told you he’d wait for you and he intended on keeping that promise. He couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like to have you back, to hold you, to tell you how much he loved you, how sorry he was. He’d never felt this way about anyone before, never been this wrecked over a girl, but you weren’t just any girl.

Rafe had never been good at groveling, at admitting he was wrong, but for you, he’d do anything. He’d get on his knees and beg if that’s what it took. He didn’t care about his pride anymore, not when it meant losing you. He was willing to do whatever it took to make things right, to prove to you that he was serious, that he loved you more than he ever thought possible.

But every time he saw you, he felt that hope slipping further away. The look in your eyes, the way you avoided him, it all felt like a final nail in the coffin. And yet, he couldn’t let go, couldn’t stop himself from yearning for you, from wanting you back in his life. He was going out of his mind, torn between respecting your wishes and fighting for you with everything he had.

Rafe knew he had to do something different, something that would show you just how much he had changed. The problem was, he didn't know what that was. He needed to find a way to prove to you that he was serious, that he was willing to put in the work to make things right.

So he started small.

He stopped going to parties, and stopped trying to drown out his feelings in distractions. Instead, he focused on becoming the person he thought you deserved—the person he knew he could be if he just tried. He started paying more attention in class, showing up on time, and actually studying. He even started volunteering, something he’d never done before, just to keep his mind occupied with something productive, something that wasn’t about him for once.

But the real change came when he began working on himself. He started seeing a therapist, something he’d always scoffed at before. He had a lot of baggage, a lot of unresolved issues that had driven him to hurt you in the first place, and he knew he needed to work through them if he ever wanted to be good enough for you.

It wasn’t easy. Therapy forced him to confront things he’d buried deep, things he’d avoided dealing with for years. Family trauma and all. But he stuck with it, because he knew it was the only way to get better, to be the kind of man you could trust again.

Slowly, he started to see changes in himself. He was more patient, more understanding, and more aware of how his actions affected others. He didn’t expect you to notice any of it—he was doing it for himself as much as for you—but he hoped that maybe, just maybe, you’d see that he was trying.

And then he had to pick you up that night.

He had never seen you drunk before, you’d always preferred your fruity punch over any other alcoholic drink. He’d always known you as strong, independent, someone who could hold your own. Seeing you like that—broken, hurting—made something in him snap. Was this his fault? Had he done this to you?

He knew he couldn’t stay that night. As much as it killed him to leave, he understood that this was part of growing too—the part where he learned to respect your boundaries, to give you space even when all he wanted was to hold you and never let go. You’d hate yourself the next day. He was doing you both a favor.

The next morning, Rafe didn’t text or call. He wanted to give you time, to process everything without the pressure of him hovering. Instead, he threw himself back into his routine, keeping himself busy but always with you at the back of his mind. He wondered if you remembered anything from the night before—how close he’d come to breaking down when you asked him to stay, how it had taken every ounce of self-control to walk away from you again.

Days passed, and he didn’t hear from you. It felt like a new kind of torture, but he stayed strong, if this was part of the process then so be it, he needed to be patient.

He didn’t want to push you, didn’t want to make you feel like you owed him anything. But he couldn’t stop hoping that maybe, just maybe, you were thinking about him too.

So when the call came that you were in the hospital, his heart nearly fell through his ass. He didn’t think, didn’t hesitate—he just went.

The thought of you being hurt, of something happening to you, was enough to make him speed over the legal limit. He needed to see you, to make sure you were okay, even if it was the last thing he did.

When he got there, his heart clenched tightly in his chest as he pushed through the doors of the hospital. He hated hospitals, hated everything about them—the smell, the sterile white walls. But none of that mattered now. All he could think about was you.

The nurse at the front desk directed him to your room, and he practically sprinted down the hallway, his mind racing with a thousand worst-case scenarios. He’d been too fucking anxious to ask if you were okay, as soon as your name and the word hospital registered, he was rushing over. When he finally reached your door, he paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob. What if you didn’t want to see him? What if you told him to leave?

But then he heard your pretty voice, soft and familiar. He pushed open the door and there you were, sitting up in the hospital bed with a sprained ankle, looking more frustrated than hurt. He breathed out in relief, so intensely it made his knees weak.

“Rafe?” you blurted out, your eyes widening in surprise as you saw him standing there. “What are you doing here?”

He took a step closer, “They called me. I’m still your emergency contact.”

“Oh,” you muttered, looking down at your hands. “I didn’t realize.”

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, but he could see the tension in your shoulders, the way you were trying to hold it together. “It’s just a sprained ankle. Nothing serious. Did a little too much during practice."

Rafe nodded, but he didn’t move, didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. The sight of you in that hospital bed, even for something as minor as a sprained ankle killed him.

“Hey,” you said softly, your voice pulling him out of his thoughts. “You don’t have to stay. I’m fine. Really.”

But he couldn’t leave. Not now, not when you were right in front of him, looking so small and vulnerable. He shook his head, his voice coming out rougher than before, “I’m not leaving.”

You blinked up at him, “But you don’t have to—”

“I’m not leaving,” he repeated, his voice firm. “I know you can handle yourself, but I’m staying.”

Surprisingly, you didn’t kick him out. “Okay.”

He pulled up a chair beside your bed, settling in like he had no intention of going anywhere. The room was quiet, the only sound the faint beeping of the machines and the murmur of voices from the hallway outside. For a moment, neither of you said anything. It was strange, being this close yet so far away from you. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, taking in the way yours had softened, the way the lines of worry on your face were starting to smooth out. You looked tired like you’d been lacking sleep. He wished he could help, even if just for a little while.

“You know,” he said quietly, breaking the silence, “I used to think I was pretty good at taking care of myself. But then I met you, and I realized I’d never really let anyone take care of me before. Not like you did.”

“Rafe—”

“No, let me finish,” he interrupted gently, “I’m still here. I’ll always be here, even if all I can do is sit in a hospital room with you and make sure you’re okay.”

You looked down at your hands, a small, sad smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“I missed you,” you whispered, the words so quiet he almost didn’t hear them.

His breath caught in his throat, his heart squeezing painfully at the admission. “I missed you too,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion.

“Thank you for that night.”

He shifted slightly in his chair, leaning a little closer, careful not to overwhelm you but needing to be nearer all the same.

“I didn’t do anything special,” he murmured, though his mind replayed the events of that night. The helplessness he’d felt seeing you in that state, knowing there was little he could do to make it better. He hadn’t been sure then if you’d even wanted him there, but he’d helped you anyway. He couldn’t leave you, not when you needed someone—when you needed him.

“You were there,” a tear slipped down your cheek, and he instinctively reached out, his thumb gently wiping it away. The touch was soft, almost reverent, and it made your breath get stuck in your throat. “That’s more than enough.”

You leaned into his touch for a moment, savoring the comfort it brought, even though it hurt to let yourself feel it, “Just glad you’re safe.”

“Why did you come?”

“Because I love you,” he admitted, tired of carrying the truth inside him, “I know I screwed up—God, I know that. But I’ve spent every day since trying to be better, trying to be the kind of man you deserve. And I know I have a long way to go, but I’m not giving up. Not on you. Not unless you ask me to.”

“You love me?”

Your voice sounded so meek, so unsure it made him want to punch himself in the face. This was entirely his doing.

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. He looked nervous, and vulnerable, “Yeah,” he said, “I do. I’m in love with you, I just—” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “I didn’t know how to say it, or maybe I was too scared to. Didn’t want to make you think I was saying it to save my ass, y’know?”

You’d always wondered what it would be like to hear those words from him, to have him admit that he cared for you in the same way you cared for him.

“I didn’t want to push you,” he continued, fingers intertwined, “But I couldn’t keep it in anymore. I couldn’t let you think that I didn’t care, that I didn’t want this, want you.”

You blinked, trying to process everything he was saying. This was the Rafe you’d always hoped for—the one who was honest and unafraid to show his emotions. But it was also the Rafe who had hurt you, who had made mistakes that left scars you weren’t sure had fully healed.

“Rafe, I—” you started, but the words caught in your throat.

“You don’t have to say it, sweets. It’s okay.”

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice shaking. “I’m scared of getting hurt again, of going back to that place where everything fell apart.”

He had changed—you could see it in the way he carried himself, in the way he spoke to you. He wasn’t the same Rafe who had hurt you.

"I’m not asking you to trust me right away," he continued, though there was a hint of desperation in it. "I know I need to earn that. But please, give me a chance to prove it. I don’t want to lose you again."

"You can’t wait for me forever.”

“I’d wait for you a lifetime. I told you,” His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tensing when he spoke, as if he was trying not to cry, “If you ever want me, I’m yours.”

His hands, usually so restless, were still now, resting on his knees as he leaned slightly forward in his chair. You saw the man he was trying to be—the man he wanted to be for you. He wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot, but he was trying. And that had to count for something.

“Even if I made you wait until we’re eighty and grey?”

Rafe let out a breathless laugh, the sound strained but genuine, “Even then,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “You’re it for me.”

It scared you how much you wanted to believe him, how much you wanted to pull him into your arms and tell him that he was it for you too. He reached out, his hand hovering near yours, waiting for you to close the distance. You hesitated for only a moment before your fingers intertwined with his. It felt right, like coming home after being lost for so long.

He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what you were thinking, feeling. He looked like he was holding his breath.

“I love you too.”

It was still scary, still uncertain, but you realized that nothing worth having ever came easy. And Rafe, with all his flaws and all his efforts to be better, was worth it.

He exhaled, his shoulders sagging in relief, “I don’t deserve you,” he said whispered, lips pressed against your fingers, “But I’m going to spend every day trying to. I swear, I’ll never stop trying.”

You closed your eyes, “You’re gonna make me cry.”

Rafe’s grip on your hand tightened, as if he could physically hold you together through sheer will alone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” he started, his voice panicked, but you shook your head, cutting him off.

“No, it’s okay,” you whispered, opening your eyes to meet his. “I just… it’s been a long time since I let myself feel this way.”

He nodded, his thumb gently brushing against the back of your hand in slow, soothing circles. “You don’t have to hold back with me. Not anymore. Whatever you’re feeling, it’s okay.”

The tears you’d been holding back spilled over, running down your cheeks. Rafe was there instantly, his other hand reaching up to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing away the tears with a tenderness that made your heart hurt.

“I’m so sorry,” his voice cracked, “For everything I put you through.”

You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand grounding you, giving you the strength to keep going. “I was so miserable Rafe,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “Scared that if I let you back in, I’d get hurt again. Scared that I’d lose you all over again.”

“I know,” he said, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the small space between you. “And I promise you, I’m not going anywhere this time. I’m here, and I’m not going to let you down.”

“I want to try.”

Rafe’s breath hitched, and he pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes searching yours as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You do?”

You nodded, a small, tentative smile forming on your lips. “I do. But we need to take it slow, okay? I need time.”

“Of course,” he said quickly, his eyes bright with hope. “We’ll go as slow as you need. I don’t fucking care sweets, I’m not leaving.”

You weren’t just giving him another chance—you were giving yourself one too. A chance to heal, to forgive, and to find your way back to each other.

Rafe pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment as if sealing the promise between you. “We’ve got this,” he murmured against your skin. “It’s you and me, okay?”

“You and me.”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and a genuine smile tugged at his lips, one that reached his eyes and made them crinkle at the corners. It was a smile you hadn’t seen in a long time, and seeing it made you want to bawl all over again. His hand cradled your cheek, his fingers tracing delicate circles on your jaw as his eyes locked onto yours, silently asking for permission, for forgiveness, for a chance to be close to you again. And when his lips finally brushed against yours, whatever pain you were feeling on your ankle disappeared.

The kiss was soft, tentative at first, like he was afraid you might pull away, afraid to push too far too soon. But the moment your lips pressed back against his, that tentative touch deepened. Rafe’s hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t stand to be apart from you even for a second. You could feel the desperation in the way his lips moved against yours, the way his breath hitched when you parted your lips to let him in.

Just as you were about to lose yourself in him, the door to your room swung open with a creak. You both froze, lips still touching, as someone cleared their throat.

You pulled away from each other reluctantly, your cheeks flushed, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Your eyes met Rafe’s and you saw the same blush of color on his face, the same love-sick expression that you were sure mirrored your own.

The doctor stood in the doorway, a clipboard in hand, a bemused smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Well, I see you’re feeling better.”

Rafe cleared his throat, stepping back slightly, his hand still lingering on your arm as if he couldn’t bring himself to let go just yet. “Uh, yeah, she’s doing great,” he mumbled.

“You must be the boyfriend.”

You couldn’t help the grin that took over, “Yeah. He is.”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron angst #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe angst #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fluff #rafe fic #rafe cameron au #rafe cameron imagines #requested #angst with a happy ending #light angst #fluff #rafe cameron fic

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nhlclover · 5 months ago

Text

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐖𝐒 | 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

summary: you and quinn finally break the news of your relationship to your families, bracing for their reactions while hoping for acceptance.

warnings: mostly fluff, jack luke and trevor being weird and trevor being overprotective, technically an age gap but not really (2 years), happy ending !

word count: 2.12k

Your stomach twisted with nerves as Quinn drove down the winding road to the lake house. Normally the trip to the lake house would bring waves of excitement, but the only thing you were feeling right now was anxious.

You met Quinn when you were sixteen, back when your family moved to Plymouth for Trevor’s hockey. It was through Trevor that you met the Hughes. During your time in Michigan, the Hughes’ became like a second family. Countless hours were spent at their house, watching games together, and sharing meals. It was during those years that your and Quinn’s friendship deepened. However, it wasn’t until a couple of years later when you reconnected in Vancouver that your friendship evolved into something more.

When you moved to Vancouver for work, you reconnected with Quinn and it felt like no time had passed. Initial coffee meet-ups turned into dinners then into dates. The transition from friends to more-than was natural and almost seamless as if you had always been meant to be together. Your friends in Vancouver remarked how perfect you seemed for each other; Quinn’s reserved and gentle nature balanced your outgoing and energetic personality.

Despite this, you couldn’t seem to shake the nerves that seemed to fill every inch of your body. This was because your brother and Quinn’s brothers didn’t know about the two of you yet.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell them, in fact, you couldn’t wait for them to know and to witness their reactions when you told them. But with those thoughts came a rush of anxiety. You knew how protective Trevor could be over you, being wary of anyone who got close to you. The Hughes brothers, on the other hand, had known you for so long that it felt strange to think of them seeing you in a different light. The idea of their possible disapproval, or worse, pulling apart your chosen family, made your stomach churn.

“Hey,” Quinn said, his soft voice pulling you out of your daydream. You glanced over at Quinn, whose eyes were flicking back and forth between you and the road. “Everything will be fine.”

You let out a breath of air you weren’t aware you were holding. “I just… what if they aren’t okay with it?”

“Y/n… they’ll be happy for us. Stop worrying.” Quinn said, his eyes settling on the road. His calm demeanour was usually a source of comfort, but today it made you feel even more on edge. He reached over and squeezed your hand, a small gesture that sent a wave of warmth through you.

You nodded, silently wishing you could share his confidence. The lake house held so many memories, but this trip felt different. Maybe it was the significance of the moment—returning to a place where so many of your memories with the Hughes were made, but now as Quinn’s partner. The weight of it all felt overwhelming.

As the lake house came into view, your heart raced. The picturesque setting was just as you remembered, the sun glistening off the water, the house nestled in between the pines. Quinn parked the car between Jack and Trevors and you both stepped out, the fresh air coming off the lake instantly enveloping your lungs.

You grabbed your bags from the trunk, heading up towards the house where you spotted your twin brother and the rest of the Hughes family lounging on the front porch. They all greeted you with enthusiastic smiles and waves, unaware of the bombshell you were about to drop.

“Hey, you guys!” Trevor grinned, bounding off the porch towards the two of you. “How was the drive?”

“Not bad,” you replied, giving Trevor a hug. “Traffic wasn’t too bad.”

Quinn greeted his brothers before passing them off to you. Luke and Jack pulled you into a group hug, the older of the two giving you a small noogie. “It’s about time you two got here, we were beginning to think you got lost.” Luke joked.

“Thanks again for travelling with her man,” Trevor said, clapping a hand on Quinn’s shoulder. “I hope she wasn’t a bother or anything.”

You glanced at Quinn, suppressing a smile towards the irony of Trevor’s comment. Little did your brother know that Quinn had been the biggest source of comfort throughout the trip, helping to ease the anxiety brought on by the prospect of telling everyone about you and Quinn.

“No, not at all,” Quinn replied. “She was good company.”

“Come on, let’s get inside,” Jack said, grabbing one of your bags and leading the way to the house. “Mom and Dad are in the kitchen, they’ve been waiting for the two of you.”

As you walked through the front door, the comforting aroma of the lake house hit you, and you couldn’t help but smile. It was these small, comforting details that made the lake house feel like home. Ellen and Jim greeted you warmly, pulling you both into hugs and insisting you sit down and relax.

“So, how’s Vancouver treating you?” Ellen asked.

“Really well,” you replied, glancing at Quinn. “Work is great, and the city is beautiful. I’ve been lucky to have Quinn show me around a lot.”

“Oh, I’m sure he has,” Jim said with a knowing smile. “You know, I’m glad the two of you are still so close.”

You felt your cheeks flush as you caught Quinn’s eye, his expression reassuring yet slightly amused. You knew in your chest that it was now or never. It was only going to get worse the longer you put it off. You took a deep breath, feeling Quinn’s hand gently rest on the small of your back as he stepped up beside you.

“Actually,” you began, your voice wavering just a bit, “there’s something we wanted to tell you all.”

The room fell silent, all eyes landing on you and Quinn. You saw Trevor’s eyes glance down to Quinn’s hand and then back to your face, a confused expression on his. You glanced at him, and he gave you a small nod, encouraging you to continue.

“Quinn and I are…we’re together,” you said, the words tumbling out faster than you intended. “As in, we’re dating.”

For a moment, there was complete silence. You could see the wheels turning in Trevor’s head, his expression shifting from surprise to something unreadable. Luke and Jack exchanged glances, and Ellen’s face broke into a warm smile.

“Well, it’s about time,” she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “I always thought you two would make a great couple.”

Jim nodded, a small smile appearing on his lips. “Congratulations you two, we’re happy for you.”

You felt a small weight lift off your shoulders at the positive reaction from two people who were practically your parents but felt it fall right back down when you glanced over at the boys, all three of them looking shell-shocked.

“Wait, what?” Jack finally said, looking between you and Quinn. “You’re serious?”

Quinn nodded, his hand now tracing comforting circles on your back. “Yeah, we are.”

Trevor remained silent, his gaze fixed on Quinn. You could see the struggle in his eyes as he processed the information. The room felt heavy with the weight of unspoken thoughts and emotions.

“Well, this is… unexpected,” Luke said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I’m happy for you guys, just… wow.”

Jack nodded in agreement. “Yeah, same here. Just caught us off guard.”

The rest of the evening was filled with awkward conversations and forced smiles. Jim and Ellen did their best to keep the atmosphere light, but the tension was palpable. Every time Quinn held your hand in his or sidled yourself under Quinn’s arm, you could feel the tense glances from them. Discomfort radiated from every one of them.

As night fell and everyone started heading to bed, you couldn’t shake the unease. You lay awake, replaying the day’s events in your mind. Quinn had repeatedly given you reminders that everything would turn out okay and that they would come around eventually. But even as Quinn lay quietly beside you, his steady breathing reflecting his attitude from throughout the day, the attempts at comfort couldn’t fully erase the lingering anxiety.

The next morning, you awoke after little sleep, your racing mind keeping you awake throughout the night. You knew you couldn’t go on with feeling this way around the others. You descended the stairs, following the soft hum of conversation out to the porch where you found Trevor, Jack, and Luke sipping from steaming mugs. Taking a deep breath, you walked over and sat down, the cool morning air helping to steady your nerves.

“‘Morning,” you said softly, pulling the sleeves of Quinn’s hoodie down over your hands.

The three boys mumbled ‘good mornings’, not one of them bothering to look up from their mugs. You huffed, now feeling more annoyed than anxious that this had continued into the morning. “Can we talk?”

Trevor glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Sure.”

You took a moment to gather your thoughts before continuing. “I know yesterday was a lot to take in, and I just wanted to apologize if it felt sudden. But I need you all to understand how important this is to me. Quinn and I, we really care about each other.”

Luke sighed, setting his mug down on the side table. “We’re not upset, Y/N. It’s just… surprising. We’ve known you for so long… it’s just weird to think of you two as more than friends.”

Jack leaned forward in his chair, his expression soft. “And-and it’s not that we don’t support you… it’s just unexpected. But if you’re happy, then we’re happy.”

You smiled, feeling a bit of relief wash over you. However, you still felt a force pushing back in the form of your twin sitting in the chair across from you. You turned to Trevor, leaning forward to try and capture his gaze, which remained locked on the water. You could see conflict in his eyes, the protective older brother wrestling with the reality of the situation.

“Trevor?” you prompted gently.

He finally looked at you, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want you to be happy, Y/N. I do. It’s just… Quinn’s my boy. If something goes wrong, it’s going to mess things up for all of us.”

You chuckled softly, reaching out and gently placing a hand on Trevor’s knee. “I get that you’re worried, Trev. But Quinn and I have thought about this. We know the risks, and we’re committed to making this work. He makes me happy, and I want you to see that.”

Trevor opened his mouth to speak but shut it and sighed instead. “I just… I don’t want to see you get hurt. And I don’t want to lose one of my best friends.”

“You won’t lose him,” you reassured him. “If anything, this will bring us all closer. But I need you to trust me. Trust us.”

Trevor studied your face for a long moment before finally nodding. “Okay. I trust you. But if he ever does anything to hurt you…” “I won’t, I promise.” You all turned to the doorway where a sleepy-looking Quinn stood. He came over to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

Trevor sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. “Alright, alright. I get it. I’m just being the overprotective brother, I guess. It’s going to take some time to get used to this.”

“Well, now that we’ve gotten the serious stuff out of the way,” Jack said, breaking the tension with a grin, “who’s ready for some breakfast? I’m pretty sure Mom made pancakes.”

As you all made your way inside, the atmosphere felt lighter. Breakfast was a blend of easy conversation and laughter, the expected teasing coming in steady doses. The rest of the day felt like life was back to normal, the initial shock seemed to wear off, replaced by the warmth and support of both your real and chosen family.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange, you found yourself sitting on the dock with Quinn, your feet dangling in the water. The events of the day played in your mind, the change in events now bringing you comfort.

“I told you it would be okay,” Quinn said softly, his hand intertwining with yours.

You leaned your head on his shoulder, a content sigh escaping your lips. “You were right. I just needed to get out of my own head.”

Quinn pressed a kiss to your temple, his voice filled with affection. “That’s what I’m here for.”

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #vancouver canucks

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chlmtsdoll · 2 months ago

Note

hear me out

reader and girl friends dancing and drinking at a nightclub after work when one of the girls says something like "holy shit, look at those two, they're hot"

when reader turns to look, she sees Patrick and Art laughing and having fun together

"i want the brunette one", one says, "are you crazy? look at the blonde, how hot he is", another responds.

"fifty bucks for whoever gets both"

reader smiles. it's showtime.

OH? IT’S GIVING SATC 🤭

This was supposed to be short but I got carried away I’m afraid ! 🎀 | 18 + smut, p in v unprotected sex, oral (m) receiving, heavy obnoxious flirting, kinda messy reader

When the club had been this crowded with a full dance floor and beautiful men nearly everywhere you looked, finally letting loose after a long work week with your girls was enough motivation to get the confidence pumping between the three of you.

Your friends were frozen. Facing the the bar area where this six foot blonde and brunette were standing, laughing like everything around them was funny. One had an infectious grin, hair untamed and a tight dark skirt that show cased his brooding arms. He was the tallest and had ‘a party girls wet dream’ written all over him. The other slightly more polished, could pass for the stereotypical Ken doll type with his charming smile, sterling blue eyes with golden locks combination. You couldn’t find why he would be here, he looked like the only interested in finding a wife type.

Either way, the two men had your thighs pushing against one another the second the girls began chattering about. And once you heard ‘fifty bucks for whoever can get both’ your ears were all game.

“Oh, I am so in. That brunette is scorching.”

“And ? Look at that blondes jawline, bitch.”

“Double the pay if they both finish.” You announce. Both of your girlfriend’s locks go up in the air as they whip around to see the smirk pulling at your lips. They quickly take upon one of their own as well.

“Oh… the competition just got serious.” One of them says.

“It’s been serious. Those guys are totally loaded..” The other comments.

Your eyebrow dips. “What makes you think that ?”

“Oh come on, what two guys that hot are going to come to the club and not be looking to spend their cash on a girl ?”

Her theory wasn’t too out of range. There was something quite different from the boys across from you all. Setting them apart from the other clueless guys around just trying to get as drunk as they possibly can. There was a more tamed and calculated aura to these two. Something that made them not only sexy, but stand out profoundly.

“..or, they could just be gay.” The other girl replies casually and the three of you burst into laughter.

“Oh my god, shut up!”

You giggle, slightly rolling your eyes to land on the two men occasionally eyeing the dance floor as if they’re considering joining in the crowd. And that’s when you caught the gaze of the one with the darker head of hair, he flashed you a smile that sent a thrill straight to your core. You tried not to blush so terribly your friends would be on to you and raise the stakes.

But you couldn't help but ponder if they’d been right too — not about the gay thing, but if they truly we’re packing bills.

And soon you found yourself worrying less about what was in you and your friends wallets, and whatever was in theirs.

“Okay. Let’s get in there. Game on.”

You and your girls were heading over to the bar, tight mini skirts and all with just the right amount of cleavage on display for your upcoming play date. And with hardly any nerves that you’d loose to the two, knowing you had it locked in with the way you just got checked out hard from the brunette all the way across the bar had your hopes high.

As you all were now getting ready to own that bar area, you let your friends have a try at playing with the men first — and it was certainly quite amusing to watch them try to flirt with both the blonde and brunette at the same time.

With fingers twirling in their hair, laughing a little too hysterically at whatever was said and trying to keep both of their attention, you wondered from observation if it crossed them that it wasn’t as easy as they’d think. One of the boys was either off staring at another cute girl or just looking for a drink when your friends hadn’t been trying to sweet talk them into a little more fun. The most they got was a couple flattering laughs from the two.. and you couldn’t help but chuckle yourself, their game play was adorable.

But they failed where you knew best. Multitasking.

So when it was your turn to get your head in the game, one of your friends walking past you in defeat from her attempt whispered, “totally gay.” in your ear post her rejection from the charming boys. You tried not to laugh in her face but you did crack and grin.

You were up next. And you wasted no time going in.

You played it all out in your head within a few minutes of taking note of the two and also of course where your friends lacked. It would be an easy job especially since you spent your week trying to sell to people at work. You knew charm like the back of your hand — soon enough you’d be making out with these guys in the back of the club in no time.

Hips swayed without any real effort as you found where the brunette had been standing nearby the vault of vodka and steely liquor at the bar. Purposefully leaning against the counter and close enough to his side for him to hear you call to get one of the bartenders attention, “Um- - could I get another drink ??” You attempted. But with it being rush hour, they'd all been too occupied.

And that’s when your plan started to make the magic happen.

The towering man beside you glanced over his shoulder at your presence, noticing you weren’t getting any luck with the attention of the bartenders and he inspected your soft and sweetened voice pretty quickly. But also with just how edible he thought you were from earlier, “what do you want, doll face ?” he turned to face you with a grin that was as overwhelmingly striking as they come. It could have made any girl want to drop her panties at the sight. And his voice sounded as if he knew that he absolutely could, “it’s packed in here, yeah ? I’ll get someone for you.”

If it wasn’t for your determination, you would have erupted into a melted pile on the ground after he winked down at you. “Oh- no, it’s fine. I’m sure my friends annoyed you enough.” You laughed lightly and he joined along with you.

“Nah, they’re cute girls… but I gotta admit, I was kinda hopin’ you’d be the one to come over and annoy me a little bit.” His eyes focused on the way your lips curled up into a swayed smile and your face was flustered quicker than the flashing lights on the ceiling. He could be bluffing. And he probably was. Even though that was supposed to be your job here — it was totally working.

You titter, “..really ?”

“Really.”

“Well than, I guess I stumbled into the right spot.” (You wanted to pat yourself on the back. You’d been farther ahead than you even assumed.) “What do they call you ?”

“Patrick, a hell of a fun time, Zweig. Your pick.” his tongue darted out to wet his lips before he took a swing of his drink, and you were all laugher as his green eyes followed you from over the rim.

This was when you could implement the gorgeous blonde to his right — eyeing off to a couple of girls on the floor. With your bottom lip pulled between your teeth, you step a little closer to Patrick, glance going from him to other handsome work of art beside. The space getting less and less personal between you two didn’t scare him either.

“Well, Patrick… who’s your friend- - ?” Your eyes darted to where he stood and the brunette hit his poor friend in the chest to get his attention on you, when he did, you noticed the uniqueness of his eyes up close. You could of seen it from across the bar — but this is another level. Some kind of otherworldly matter, it got you choked up for a moment.

He was about to make you bank.

“This is Art.”

Of course it is.

Your were trying not to drool as you took a little too long to examine the way Art leaned up with a miniature straw pressed against his pretty lips with a soft sideways smirk,

“I think he’s a cutie..” You sputter as you bit your lip with a cheeky smile. Trying not to get lost in Arts gaze — you had to remember the goal, get your head in the game to why you’d walked over here in the first damn place.

“I think you’re both pretty cute..”

“Yeah?” Patrick chuckled and grinned at his friend, they looked at each other like it had been some hidden kind of communication. Like they already knew what the other was trying to say telepathically. That was a signal to you that this was for sure a package deal — you’d have both of them tonight. Not only did they welcome it, but they’d probably been here for that exact motive.

Art gave you a little smile, “We had our eye on you the whole night honestly, so that’s good to know…”

There it is.

You laughed a bit and shrugged. Eyes following back to the darker haired one. “So I heard..”

“How come you aren’t out there?” Art nodded to the dance floor full of bodies, his eyes ran over you, “you’re a stunning girl.. no way none of these guys asked you to dance.”

You hoped to god you weren’t getting flustered. They’re just boys. Ones that you needed to be bedded by till the sun came up, but still.

“I’m- uh.. a bit shy.” (You weren’t. You had your fair share of men in and out of your apartment. Not as stunning as Art and Patrick although, so making them feel extra special wasn’t too much of a stretched truth.) “so it’s rare I even talk to guys.. but you two- - I just had to say something.” You giggled and they were leaning into your laughter with their own. You could swear you smelled Burberry cologne being sent your way from one of them, if not both. Maybe your friends had been right about the wealth.

Art and Patricks attention had been solidly on you. And you didn’t know if it was the way you decided to style your hair tonight, and the way you made sure to keep lustful but sweet eyes between them, or if your friends just sucked at flirting. But you were already yearning to keep this going.

It was time to throw them a curve to lock in their undivided for the rest of the night.

“Well- - I should get back to my friends, they probably think it’s way odd of me to even be over here..” you tittered with a soft goodbye smile as you began to turn away from the men and before you could even step away from the countertop, “wait!” was being called your way from over your shoulder.

A smirk was ridden on your lips once again. You turned back to face their pitch with curiosity.

“Stay a little longer?” Patrick asked of you with a beam.

“Yeah, let us buy you a drink.. what are you? An espresso?”

“No. Man, she’s a cosmo girl, trust me. You are- - aren’t you?” When the brunette corrected his friend, blue and green orbs focused on your answer in desperation you’d keep them a little more company. And you couldn’t help your decisive but giddy expression that was all too pleased with your work here.

“I am actually, yes.” You chuckled before taking a stand between the two tall and handsome men with much more than a quick fuck and collecting your rewards on your mind now. You actually sort of liked them. And that was rare with any man you’d meet doing an activity like clubbing, especially two of them.

As time went on, Art and Patrick were racking up on buying you drink after drink. As many as you wanted. Within as little as an hour that passed, you’d been with the two boys as if you’d known them your entire life. It could have been borderline love bombing with how fast you went from zero to a hundred. Both men simultaneously wrapping their arms around you from behind, laughing loudly as you’d been glued between the two of them. Even dancing in ways more than a couple flirts could have gotten you.

The boys were more than happy to keep tipping the bartenders with haughty smirks after getting you sparked up and hanging on their arms of course, even having one too many of their own. The three of you took it to the lounge area and your friends would be somewhere watching in disbelief and slight envy of how quickly you were able to get handsy with Art and Patrick.

You’d been passed back and forth on their laps as you chatted and even snuck a couple kisses by now. Totally giddy off their energy and the liquids they’d been giving you. The way Art had slipped his wallet back into his back pocket after buying you another drink, was a straight turn on to the point you’d been sticking sugary kisses to his neck as he did so with a couple playful bites, the man grinned at your bubbly essence. Your not so careful hands slid up his chest and slung over his shoulders, “Mmm- -You’re the sweet one aren’t you?” You giggle, finger tips run over his jaw and Art bit down on his peachy lip while he held on to your hips nice and easy, yet with a respectful distance. He couldn’t find the words to define the way he’d been enjoying the way you stroked his ego all night long.

“Don’t let him fool you. He’s actually a menace.” Patrick scoffed as he sat man spread in the seat across from you two with a cigarette in hand.

“Fuck off.” His friend defended lightly. It was the way you could tell he enjoyed the playful banter when Patrick poked at him tonight that solidified to you just how close they really were. You thought it was adorable.

“You two really do everything together, huh?” You toyed with Arts now loose collar, casually sipping on something clear with flirtatious eyes, and the man shrugged a bit as he glanced at the brunette across from him who was hiding a sardonic kind of look behind his glass.

“I mean, well- - somethings..” The blonde nodded with a soft smile, but you raised a brow. “Most things.” He corrected, he and Patrick narrowed eyes at one another. You noticed with a devious little hum at the way the blonde had still been holding back. It made your lips turn up with a grin, watching between the two as Art struggled to confess the obvious. “Okay. Yeah- kind of.. everything.” With a flustered look towards the brunette, Arts eyes trailed off with a sort of blush as you leaned into his shoulder. All close to the blue eyed man getting harshly coy now.

“That’s so cute. Like brothers..” you smiled in Patrick’s direction and he immediately let out heavy laughter.

“Not exactly.” The other man grinned. You tilted your head some, and looked at Art again with wonder in your eyes.

“Like.. lovers ?” Your eyes were wide as you focused on the blonde and he shook his head and drowned out his flustered expression with a swing from his glass. Patrick had smirked at your final conclusion, but still, the two gave you not a significant confirmation spite lingering looks and the newfound heat coming from Arts body.

Holy fuck

not just one, but both your friends had been right.

You were already one step ahead with more questions to coax out of the two if a bartender hadn’t interrupted with a new round of shots and your mind was quickly occupied as you ‘ooo’d’ at the tray being set beyond you. Patrick met your gaze and grinned. “Baby, come take one with me,” you were cheerfully being swapped from Arts lap to Patrick’s — bouncing over his way and also grabbing a shot with him.

A quick clink of your glasses filled the air along with your energetic giggles as the man who groped you with firmness in his lap contrast Art, drowned the substance at the same time. Patricks roaming hands were coarse and just as bold as he was when you straddled him after letting the liquor flow down your throat with ease, you wiped your stained lips with the back of your palm.

“Shit.. you took that so well, pretty girl..” Patrick took the glass from your hands, his hooded eyes stayed on you with a smirk. You brushed your fingers over the light stubble to his chin and leaned in close,

“I can take a lot of things pretty well.” You whispered so only he could hear with a smile, you scanned the area proudly as you were very aware of the show you’d been putting up all night. Patrick shifted in his seat with arousal, lips inches away from yours so you went in deep with a kiss.

The man groaned, “Is that so?” He pushed your hips farther into his lap as you’d been lipping off his jaw with a prideful giggle. You were messing with the hem of his shirt as you remembered you still had your own benefit of the deal to seal — getting the boys somewhere you could have your way with them. You came this far, why stop now when you’d been so close to victory?

“Mmhm… want me to show you how?”

Your words were music to the brunettes ears. His eyebrows rose as he watched you lean up with a grin, intertwining your fingers through his knuckles and Patrick stood as you were able to grab Arts attention too. Abruptly stripping him of his seat as well. “oh- - we’re going somewhere else..” the blonde rushed to follow where you’d been leading for a little more privacy. A secluded vip party section that you were a hundred percent not allowed in without a fee — but something about the trespassing turned you on even more. With a finger to your lips, you gave the two a silent “shh” along with your little grin and lustful eyes. They were all in with thrill and eager hands to get on you anyways.

You had gone to the nervously flattered one first. Taking his hands to wrap them around your waist, you stood on your toes to press your lips against his, carefully moving your jaw with Art’s and melting into the dance of it on instant. Your fingertips crawl through his butterscotch tinted curls like you couldn’t get enough. And Art went to a little bit of a risk, he didn’t stop his hands from slipping down to grip your ass beneath your tight skirt.

“Mmm.. easy blondie- -” you giggled with a soft push to his collarbone so he’d been a tad away from you once again, and Art finally let himself breathe with a mumbled curse coming from his lips.

You then made your way to the brunette beside him — but before you could even take your stance, the man pulled you in without a warning. Pressing his broad body against you as he collided his mouth with yours in one swift motion and your whimpers had been an immediate reaction by the way Patrick left sloppy kisses wherever he could. Down your neck, over the top of your chest. You grinned as you eyed the man next to him while Patrick tore into your skin.

You found the vile rising tent in Arts jeans quite cute.

You let your hand trail to where his button began and you undid it as quick as you could with the way Patrick had been holding your body like some kind of rag doll. Art helped you unzip them, and when Patrick had flung you around so your back was flush against his chest, your jaw was unleashed as you squealed.

“You really aren’t shy are you?” His voice was richer than before — full of the whisky and pent up from the foreplay of the last hour making you let out a loose laugh while the man pushed past your messy hair to kiss on your neck.

“I am- - but even the quite ones have our needs.. right, Art?”

The blonde let out a coy chuckle before his blush took over more of his expression and with that you had been hiking up your skirt to tuck your thumbs into the hem of your panties to pull them down your thighs. “Oh, shit.. shit” Art was already softly groaning as you used his undone belt buckle as leverage to get the lacy pair from your feet and he watched with overwhelming interest in the way Patrick caught your drift and started to get his own belt gone faster than you got them into that room.

“Fuck” Patrick, equally aroused, groaned when he had got his hardened dick out of his boxers. Your mind was so clouded from the tension of the way he grabbed on to your clothed breasts behind your top, rummaging to find your sensitive nipples — you were panting from the friction of his throbbing member that was far ready to fuck you senseless, just brushing against your upper thigh. You bit down on your lip hard as you looked up at the finely built man behind you who had a smirk stuck to his face before he toyed at your already slick pussy with his fingers.

“Go on… put it in- -” your drunken mind went fuzzy when the dark haired man started to slide through your walls, your hand went slapping against whatever you could reach in the confined space you’d been in as a full moan escaped you — your eyes fluttered from the way Patrick stretched you open on his cock. Keeping both hands on your hips so you didn’t fall over as your legs already begun to go weak. He didn’t even hesitate to plunge into you with a grunt. “I wasn’t- - even planning on.. fucking you tonight, but fuck, I knew you wanted it.” Patrick groaned out while he snapped his hips against your ass and you turned into a mess of whimpers. You’d been in a slight arch for his entrance, cunt clenching around his length so much so you were sure to turn into a stuttering mess within minutes.

Arts reddened cock was on your mind as he’d been right ahead of you just in reach of your sloppy fuck with the brunette. And as “Oh ! Fuck.. yes, yes” was being thrusted out of you, you still reached out to start stroking him. Art hissed on contact with your warm palms on his shaft like you’d been a pro. And he was gorgeous, eyebrows knitted away as he melted into your heavenly coax of his dick, stiff enough to cum right then just from the voyeurism of it all.

“Baby.. faster- - just like that..” Art groaned before putting a hand on your waist that was being rutted by his friend. You spit on your hand quickly before going back to use it on Art. Your legs were in fact giving out — but the bliss due to the man fucking into you was just too good to let go to waste.

“Patrick..keep fucking me- - mmm.. please, it feels so-so good.” You whine while your wetness sticks to the curve of your inner thighs, you could hear the man’s haughty snicker run through your ears. He was now digging his fingers into your hips, slowing his movements to watching himself pump in and out of your hole with rhythm.

“Hold still, sweet girl.. I’m gonna make you cum- -”

That wasn’t what you needed. But what the heck.

With Patrick pounding a couple cries out of you down the line, he'd been putting his hands roughly in your hair to push you over the ledge as you began to make a mess on his twitching cock. “Mmmh.. f-fuck- yes..!” You couldn’t give a damn at how loud you were being. Your creamy juices were left on the man as he wasted no time to pull out of you and start pumping away at his cock on your backside. Using the wall as a rest with his damp curls stuck to his forehead, he released ropes of his cum on to the dip of your back with a low grunt. By the time he tapped the last few drops on your ass, you had a teasing little hazy smile on your face and Patrick held you up again like used goods.

You got one down. You already knew with a few strokes of your tongue, Art would have that sweet release too. So you got on your knees without a question and attached your generous lips around the blondes member. He closed his eyes to feel the heated wetness of your mouth closing on him. “Oh god,” he panted as you suctioned your lips around his tip. Te naughtiest kind of sounds leaving you while you sucked a climax from Art at the same time. The feeling of his cock down your throat, mixed with the moaning through the moment his cum flows through, made your mouth feel totally full and fucked out. Art cursed at the way you looked so pretty taking him on your knees like this — but he thought you were far too comely to be down there for long, so as soon as you swallowed he helped you rise to your feet with a small stumble, but the man managed to keep you aligned as he grabbed hold of you with a soft grin.

“You’re too good, even drunk. I mean, shit..” Patrick panted as he observed your state. Just like before. Arms flung over Arts shoulders as you leaned into him with flirtatiousness.

“You fuck good.” You eyed him back, your voice was a little too impressed to the brunette, but he was appreciative of the acknowledgement. You had focused on the blonde again, whose chest was against yours, running your finger over his cheek in playfulness with a small giggle.

“And you have to play Ken in me next time..”

He looked down as he just couldn’t help himself but shy away from your compliment. “next time, huh ?” Art questioned with a soft chuckle, You nodded and kept your place temptingly close to the blondes lips. “Well then, we’ve gotta get you home first.”

After Patrick and Art insisted on paying for your Uber back to your apartment, they were also nearly begging for your number as well — and after a few waters to sober up, and a kind hearted snap of your seatbelt from one of the boys, you eventually did give in.

You nearly forgot you had a pay to pick up from your friends at your hangover brunch the next morning, and of course the girls wanted all the details about everything from the previous night while bills were paid to you gladly.

You planned on giving the two hot guys at the bar a handjob and couple kisses at the beginning. But exposing to your friends that you got to cum on Patrick’s cock while you jerked off Art and sealed your deal was an extra bonus as they both ended up being as sweet as they come.

Maybe two boyfriends wouldn’t hurt.

#challengers #art donaldson #patrick zweig #x reader #art donaldson x female reader #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x female reader #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig smut #challengers fic #challengers x reader #challengers smut #artrick smut #artrick #artrick x reader #chlmtsdoll writes

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acciotaitlynn · 2 months ago

Note

Xavier following you around begging for forgiveness, interfering with your dates, etc after you break up with him because he chose mc to save instead of you but he regrets it now plzzzzzz? 🥺

Hiii! ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ I hope it's okay that this is spicy! Xavikitty's got me really worked up 😩💦 This healed something in me fr. Thank you for requesting!

→ xavier༝you ꒰sylus is your bestie꒱

→ 18+, unprotected sex, vsex, marking/claiming, fingering, masturbation, oral;꒰fem!receiving꒱ angst, overstim, angel/baby/good girl used, ⋆˙⟡ reader is not mc from lads

→ wc: 9k

→ pt.2

It plays on an endless loop in Xavier’s head—he remembers pushing you into harm's way to protect her. He shuts his eyes, steeling himself as the memory flares up like a haunting specter, nausea twisting at its force.

How can he possibly make you understand? After countless lifetimes dedicated to protecting Mai, it’s become instinctual, as natural as breathing. He’s devoted himself to placing her life above all else, including his own, to the point where it requires no conscious thought. His body moves according to her needs, like weary clay molded to her unyielding will.

Typically, keeping her safe fills him with immense pride and joy. She’s the center of his existence—the one thing he’s never once regretted dedicating himself to.

He’s unsure when that began to change. Perhaps it was the first moment he laid eyes on you. He remembers it vividly…

You stood beside Mai, the woman he’s always considered the most beautiful soul in the world, yet all he could see was you. A soft, surprised inhale escaped him as he caught your radiant gaze. Then his eyes wandered over your form, drawn to the uniform that hugged your curves in all the right places—curves that stirred a long-buried ache in him, a longing he’d almost forgotten existed.

Captain Jenna assigned you to the Unicorns team, instructing them to show you the ropes during your first few months. Much to Mai's dismay, Xavier took a shine to you. You both hit it off instantly, diving into animated discussions about books, video games, and anime that last for hours.

Xavier changes around you. It's a stark contrast from his usual aloof demeanor; he becomes like an overeager puppy, radiating a cheerful, youthful energy that draws you in. You make him feel alive, his soul buzzing with excitement whenever you're around.

Then there's Mai. The lingering touches and flirtations between her and Xavier are familiar yet futile. He feels something for her—his body still heats up when she’s near, and the butterflies flutter in his stomach whenever she hugs him. But you? You make his heart race to the point where he can't think straight. You ignite a spark in him that he’s hesitant to acknowledge, filling him with light and hope.

With Mai, it’s different. While she makes him happy, the constant chase for something unachievable cloaks their moments in a bittersweet melancholy, even during the brightest times. A nagging question lingers in his mind—is he starting to care for you so deeply that it’s overshadowing his feelings for her? Is that even possible?

Mai has consumed his thoughts and desires for as long as he can remember. He struggles to disentangle himself from her, even against his will. But ever since that first mission together, you’ve carved a place in his psyche that’s too significant to ignore.

Unbeknownst to him, his changes around you are glaringly obvious. And you can't help but smirk at how annoyed it makes Mai. She does her best to keep you away from him, often splitting up during missions to maintain her hold. She sits closer to Xavier, throwing you daggers with her glares, her flirtations with him seemingly growing bolder by the day.

Currently, her arm is draped over his shoulders as she whispers into his ear. As your eyes meet Xavier’s, warmth blooms in his gaze, only to falter when you quickly look away.

It’s only been three days since he pushed you in front of that wanderer without a second thought, pulling Mai away as though her safety was paramount. Mai executed her plan with precision, positioning herself between you and the threat when Xavier was distracted to force a choice upon him. It was meant to convey that he ultimately belongs to her.

You've asked him to avoid speaking to you unless it’s work-related, and even then, you prefer silence. His gentle voice feels like a sharp knife cutting deep into your resolve. Just one more month, and you can escape this toxic duo for good.

Watching Mai cling to him is torture—some sort of cruel cosmic punishment for an unknown transgression. Every place her hands linger is a spot you crave for yourself. Your desire for Xavier has burned since the moment you laid eyes on him. It’s evident he shares that longing, how his gaze roams over you when he thinks you’re not looking, and how he blushes fiercely at the simplest of touches.

You just don’t understand it. You know their heartbreaking history; Sylus filled you in. Giving up on something you've worked so hard for is a monumental challenge. Still, they don’t joke and laugh like you do. His eyes don’t light up for her the way they do for you; that deep cerulean gaze doesn’t trace her form with the same heat anymore. He no longer seeks her out or reciprocates her touches. In fact, he’d likely forget her entirely if she weren’t always throwing herself at him.

So, why doesn’t he draw a line? Why won’t he create the boundary he so obviously needs? It’s maddening.

You wish for the patrol minutes to fly by so you can escape, grab a few drinks, and retreat to the safety of binge-watching anime, where you can finally process your feelings.

Your friend’s ringtone cuts through your frustration as Mai nuzzles into Xavier, earning a grimace from him as he pulls back slightly. The deep voice on the other end of your phone call soothes your irritation like crisp, smoky whiskey.

“Sylus,” you breathe, relief washing over you at the welcome distraction. You hadn’t realized how much you needed it until now.

“You sound upset, sweetie. Is a certain naughty kitten causing you some frustration again?” he teases, referring to the skank currently toeing Xavier’s thigh. You glance around, taking in the scene around you, and it only intensifies your disgust. It's a crowded street, and she just pops her boot off and goes for it.

“It would be great if you could come take her away. for like, ever,” you mumble grumpily.

"But then you might miss me," he drawls, a hint of mischief in his voice.

"That's why video chat exists," you reply, rolling your eyes.

Mai knows exactly who’s on the other end of that line, but her confidence in your friendship with Sylus keeps her at ease. She knows you don’t stand in the way of her claim on him. Instead, she leans closer to Xavier, her fingers tracing lazy shapes along his arm, a suggestive grin plastered on her face.

Yet it’s a futile effort. Xavier is hanging on your every word, his focus unwavering. His remains unreadable as you assure Sylus you'll arrive soon.

Finally, the clock strikes midnight. Unfortunately, you’ve ridden here with Mai, as your car is in the shop. You contemplate how to ask for a lift, but before you can gather the courage, Xavier swiftly breaks free from Mai’s grasp and gently guides you toward his car.

Your brow furrows in confusion. “Xavier!” Mai's voice drips with irritation as she tries to pull him back.

He dodges her intervention, a determined look in his eyes. “Don’t you need a ride?” he asks, keeping his gaze steady on you.

Mai’s stunned expression is almost comical, but Xavier doesn’t give her the satisfaction of a response. He’s not about to subject you to another awkward ride with her, especially when he can’t shake the unsettled feeling that gnaws at him at the thought of you having dinner with Sylus. How easily you seemed to relax upon receiving his call is driving Xavier mad.

As Mai seethes next to her bike, Xavier’s focus remains ahead, his expression calm, but his grip on the steering wheel is white-knuckled. You angle toward the window, crossing your arms and letting the scenery blur past. Irritation bubbles just beneath the surface, and you can’t help but murmur, “Escaping your master’s leash. Impressive.”

He glances at you, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, but then he turns his gaze back to the road, leaving the tension hanging in the air between you.

Sylus is waiting when you pull up, propped casually against the bar’s porch, with a cigarette in hand and a knowing glint in his eyes as he watches you arrive. Xavier seems poised to say something, but you hop out of the car before he can get the words out, striding straight past Sylus and tossing a casual “What’s up?” over your shoulder.

You miss the way Sylus shoots a glance at Xavier—a look that says, “You better behave.” He has no grudge against the hunter; Mai chose Sylus, so what was there for him to resent? That was until Xavier started hurting you.

“I seriously don’t understand what you see in her,” you mutter as Sylus takes a seat, prompting a chuckle from him and a playful ruffle of your hair.

“I find it all part of her charm,” he shoots back with a grin.

With an exasperated sigh, you focus on getting drunk enough to forget Xavier. That task feels daunting until Sylus volunteers for karaoke, his performance drowning out your worries. When he flops back down at the table, he wears a broad grin, eyes sparkling.

“Good, right?” he asks, confidence overflowing, and it takes all your restraint not to tease him.

He’s sensitive about his singing. So, you lean in with your best serious face. “So good, Sy. You’ve gotten even better!”

His ego balloons as he settles back into the booth, nodding appreciatively as he says, “Truly.”

Carmine eyes brightened by the drinks, his flushed face scans the room, and you can’t help but feel a twinge of annoyance at how effortlessly beautiful he looks when he lets loose. Just once, you wish he’d look bad, allowing you to be the cute one in the friendship.

Noticing your irritated appraisal, Sylus chuckles, his arm draping over the booth. He shoots you a mock, severe look. “Better not let your hunter catch you looking at me like that, sweetie. Or Mai, for that matter.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “Your head is getting bigger. Seriously, it might be wider than your shoulders by now.”

But his smile vanishes, replaced by concern as he studies you. “How are you holding up?”

Your gentle smile reflects your appreciation for his genuine concern. Sylus can be a pain, but he also knows how to be a great friend. “I’m okay, I guess. If your girl gets any more hands-on, though…” You narrow your eyes at him like it’s his fault. “Doesn’t it bother you that she’s all over him lately?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, tossing back a shot. “Sweetie, look at me, then at him—what’s there to worry about?”

Your scoff drips with sarcasm, enough to irk him. He raises an eyebrow and playfully kicks your ankle, smirking as you wince and curse loudly enough to catch others' attention. But soon, his worry returns, his voice softening as he tries to comfort you. “You know their history, dove. Surely, you can see that letting her go will be nearly impossible for him. I warned you about this.”

He did warn you, and you didn’t listen. Now you wish you had. You gave him a tender smile and a reassuring pat on his hand, murmuring, “I know. I just need time to accept it.”

Mission accomplished—both you and Sylus are sufficiently drunk as you head out, making plans for him to drop you off at your place. You’re busy teasing Mephisto, who’s perched on Sylus’s shoulder. His irritated nip catches your attention, and you notice Xavier’s car is still parked outside.

Xavier knows you can see him, but you turn away, hopping on Sylus’s bike as he takes off. Guilt and irritation bubble within him as he hits the dashboard, cursing softly while watching you disappear into the distance.

When did he start hating Sylus for being near you rather than for being near Mai? As he contemplates, he realizes their relationship hasn’t bothered him lately. He’s certain he heard them banging last night from his apartment, and he couldn’t have cared less. All that consumed his mind was how to show you how sorry he is.

After a while, his imagination ran wild, turning Mai’s cries of pleasure into thoughts of you, your sweet voice calling out in ecstasy. His desire grew painfully as he imagined you beneath him, gripping himself tightly as he came hard enough to see stars, all while dealing with the guilt of betraying your trust.

Earlier, words had failed him, bound tight by guilt and nerves. He doesn’t know how to make you understand, but he has to try; the thought of seeing you in pain any longer is unbearable. The need to wrap you in his arms and kiss away that adorable frown grows stronger daily.

The hope of taking you home and getting a chance to try again disappears with your retreating silhouette. He groans in frustration, his head hitting the steering wheel as exhaustion trickles over him.

He’s an absolute mess. He can’t eat or sleep—two of his favorite things. Even meat doesn’t hold appeal right now. He’s miserable.

Helplessly, he follows you and Sylus, watching your figures from his car as you sit in front of the TV. Eventually, though, he leaves, knowing knocking on your door in the middle of the night to fall on his knees and apologize isn’t a realistic option unless he wants you to see just how much he’s falling apart over this.

At some point, you fall asleep, and Sylus covers you up before heading out. Both you and Xavier hope for relief in your dreams, but instead, your dreams are haunted by each other’s presence.

Mai has taken the day off to accompany Sylus on a business deal, and as much as you hate to admit it, you miss her. It would have been nice if Sylus had taken you along instead, leaving her here to make Xavier as miserable as you are.

Once upon a time, the thought of being alone with him on a mission filled you with excitement, practically keeping you awake the night before from sheer nerves. Now, you do your best to ignore him, walking just out of reach.

He kicks a rock, a quiet sigh escaping his lips. “We should head back soon; it’s getting late. We can look for the protocore again tomorrow.”

Guilt bubbles up in you at the melancholy lacing his voice. You nod and gesture toward a nearby Wanderer, saying, “Let’s take that one down and head out.”

The two of you fight seamlessly, your movements flowing together in a rhythm more exquisite than what he shares with Mai—something that seems to stun him every time. Without realizing it, he’s started gravitating toward you during battles, often having to forcibly pull himself back to her side.

A fresh pang of guilt gnaws at him, a feeling of drifting further away from what he’s always believed to be his purpose in life. He feels so lost, and there’s only one direction he longs to run in.

When did you become his guiding star?

The trip home is the most awkward car ride you’ve ever endured, the air thick with unease. You let out a long sigh, adjusting your seat as you turn up the volume on Mozart's Symphony No. 41, the "Jupiter" movement, hoping the music can cut through the oppressive silence. The soothing notes help ease Xavier's anxiety a bit, which in turn allows you to relax as the tension around you fades—if only slightly.

But as he parks in front of your place and kills the engine, the uncomfortable atmosphere returns with full force. Every part of you longs to bolt inside, terrified of the conversation that looms ahead. You know what’s coming. He’ll look at you with those beautiful, earnest eyes and say he’s sorry, genuinely believing it, but that apology will only sharpen the pain. If he genuinely cared, he wouldn’t have put you in harm’s way. If you mattered to him, he would have shown it when it counted.

You look away, remaining still in a silent invitation for him to speak.

His soft voice slices through the tension, murmuring, “I’m so sorry.”

Another wave of silence washes over you, anger surging beneath the surface—a force that takes all your strength to suppress. You shake your head in disbelief, your nails digging into your palms as you seek relief from the emotional turmoil. Pain to drown out the pain.

He notices, gently taking your hand, unfurling your fingers, and placing them back in your lap. Your body responds to his touch, a raw ache begging for more, while a part of you screams in frustration. Shooting him a glare, you cross your arms tightly, fighting against the tears welling up.

“Don’t touch me, Xavier.” Your voice is low and firm—an order that conflicts with the desperate plea of your heart, urging you to draw him closer.

His face falls, shoulders slumping as his hand drops to his lap. “Okay,” he whispers, the hurt in his voice cracking your heart a little more. You reach for him, then quickly pull back.

Searching your face, he pleads, “May I have a moment to explain? I know it won’t help, but—”

You grab your bag, cutting him off. “No need; Sylus took care of it. You chase her across the cosmos, hopelessly in love with someone who doesn’t deserve you. I'm caught up. Thank you for the apology, though. Really,” you say softly, closing the door behind you. As you walk away, you can almost feel the weight of his regret lingering in the air.

A date at Meow’s Cafe, surrounded by adorable miniature cats, should be a delightful experience. Yet today, it feels heavy with the weight of Xavier’s absence. It’s your first time here without him, and everything is off; the playful mews of the kitties have lost their charm, grating on your nerves instead, while the usually vibrant atmosphere feels dull and lifeless.

The man sitting across from you is undeniably attractive, with dark, wavy hair, a chiseled jawline, and a smile that promises excitement and chaos. You can’t help but appreciate the way his fingers linger a moment too long on your skin or the longing glint in his eyes. Yet, the ache of Xavier’s absence lingers, casting a shadow over your attempts to enjoy the moment.

Excusing yourself to the restroom, you scrub your hands, your thoughts lingering on thoughts of him. Just as you’re about to shake the memories away, his soft voice—almost a whisper—brushes against your ear. “Does he play as well as me?”

You can almost feel the tension radiating from him, the palpable mix of frustration and jealousy. Xavier’s emotions swirl around him, creating a glow that’s impossible to ignore. Watching you with someone else, someone who seems to draw you in far too easily, has shattered something within him.

As you turn, you’re startled to find him standing there, his presence commanding and intense. His cheeks are flushed, his breaths quickening, and his hooded blue eyes betray a storm of feelings: anger, grief, desire, and a potent possessiveness that sends a thrilling shiver down your spine.

You fight to maintain your composure, voice steady as you ask, “What are you doing here?” Tara set this date up for you just yesterday, assuring you that it would help you forget about Xavier. Clearly, that wasn’t going to happen.

He closes the distance between you in a heartbeat, his lips grazing your cheek as he pushes you gently against the wall. For a moment, his tender touch makes you forget all about the boundaries you've set.

“What are you—”

He cups your cheek, kissing you so softly it nearly steals your breath away. “There aren’t words to express how sorry I am,” he murmurs, his forehead resting against yours, thumb brushing away your unshed tears as you stand frozen, torn between pushing him away and kissing him again.

You allow his lips to skim your neck, cursing your body’s betrayal when you feel an intense warmth spread through you at just the brush of his breath on your skin.

“If I could do it over, I wouldn’t make the same choice,” he confesses, his eyes lifting to meet yours with sincerity. The truth in his words shakes him to his core—given another chance, he would choose you without hesitation.

Reality crashes over you, jarring you from his spell. You pull away, a sad, pitying look crossing your face. “Yes, you really would,” you reply quietly, determination solidifying your resolve as you stride out of the cafe with your date in tow.

Your date's name is Ash, but it feels irrelevant; he’s merely a means to an end, a warm body to help work out your frustrations. A pretty placeholder whose touch you imagine belongs to Xavier—a delicious fantasy until you accidentally murmur Xavier’s name, and the atmosphere grows awkward.

Left alone, forced to find release on your own. Visions of Xavier’s cock filling you up while his beautiful gaze locks with yours consume your mind. You’re a mess of whimpers, chanting his name in a prayer that fills the stillness of your room as you ride an orgasm so powerful it borders on pain. Despite its overwhelming intensity, it does nothing to ease the ache that demands you give in to him, insisting on your claim in every way possible.

It disgusts you how you can still want someone who causes you so much pain, someone who can never care for you like you care for him.

Your phone pings, lighting up with a message—from Xavier. He hasn’t texted you since that fateful mission, and you kick yourself at the happiness the sudden communication brings you.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Next, a video comes through, sending your phone flying across the carpet as a shriek leaves you. Your hand claps over your mouth in shock, and you immediately rush to retrieve it, relentless desire flooding you at the image on the screen.

Xavier reclines on a sofa with his legs spread wide, his black button-up open to show off his lean, sculpted form. He frees his cock—so hard it looks painful. He must be super sensitive because the moment his hand wraps around himself, he lets out a needy little whimper that curls your toes.

You wish more than anything to take him in your mouth, to taste the pretty beads of precum that make his movements slick and sloppy.

Your stunned murmur of, “W-what is happening…” sounds so horrified and horny that it's comical.

Your fingers move almost of their own accord, slipping deep inside you to match his rhythm. You prop your phone up so your free hand can trail over your body, pinching and rolling your nipples as your breath quickens alongside his. You hate yourself for every touch, but you can’t stop. Your attention latches onto him and nothing else, unable to look away, even if what’s about to happen ends up ruining you.

His grip firms instantly as if aware of your reaction, and he strokes himself faster. His head kicks back, his eyes slam shut, and a low groan escapes him. “I’m picturing myself inside you,” he admits, “Imagining laying claim to every inch of your body and soul.”

His gaze pierces through the camera, earnest and pleading, his blue eyes shining with unfathomable need.

“You think I wouldn’t make a different choice if given the chance, but you’re wrong. Besides fucking you, regret is a constant on my mind, relentlessly replaying as I watch myself make the stupidest choice of my life.” He lays his head back again, keeping his eyes on the camera as he languidly strokes himself, continuing, “Centuries of longing for and chasing after Mai, of dedicating my very existence to her, and then you come along and turn my entire world upside down with just a smile. You make me want to give up everything I believe in to be with you.”

His words trail off as his movements become frantic. With an incoherent mumble, he says, “I bet you’re so tight… so warm. Are you wet for me, angel? I hope so… W-will you cum with me?” The plea in his voice is unmistakable.

You whimper, nodding frantically, your pussy squeezing your fingers as his filthy words spur you on.

Your gaze flits over his body, unable to settle as your pleasure builds. He’s so pretty—his face flushed, sweat beading on his skin, his cerulean eyes burning bright. A whiny, needy repetition of your name leaves his lips as cum covers his hand and stomach, sending you hurtling into your own release.

Shame fills you when the pleasure subsides. His face moves closer to the camera, and he softly murmurs, “I really miss you,” effectively ripping your heart out and stomping on it before the video cuts off, an unsettling silence filling the air. You want to scream and cry, and most frustratingly, you want a second round with the most significant thing ever filmed.

A sudden realization hits you, and you groan, stuffing your face into a pillow with a muted scream. Work tomorrow is going to be so awkward.

Thank the gods your car is finally back from the shop. An immense sense of relief washes over you, knowing you won’t have to endure another ride with Xavier after what happened last night—or, possibly even worse, with Mai.

However, that relief quickly evaporates as you arrive at work and see Xavier striding toward you. He boldly brushes your hair back and leans in close, whispering, “Did you enjoy yourself last night? I know I did,” his smile warm and inviting.

He takes your chin and tilts your face, his voice soft as he confesses, “I’ve never felt so good. Not even at the thought of Mai.” You squeak in surprise, instinctively pulling away.

Xavier has decided he’s done fighting his feelings for you. The hesitation about the changes this could bring to his life—and the guilt that comes with it—is gone. He wants you more than anything, and now he’s determined to show you just how much.

As you walk side by side on patrol, his soft voice fills the air with light-hearted musings and playful teasing, yet you constantly remind yourself why you must keep your distance.

Meanwhile, Mai glares daggers from behind, trying desperately to distract Xavier at every opportunity. She attempts to hold his hand at one point, batting her lashes with a cute little pout. But he quickly pulls away, brushes your arm tenderly, and continues walking by your side.

A warmth spreads in your heart, and you can’t help but worry about how easily he’s breaking down the walls you’ve built around yourself.

Mai’s cheerful voice grates on Xavier’s nerves as he struggles to finish his paperwork for the day. The office is empty now, and he’s itching to leave, his mind consumed with thoughts of seeing you.

Mai pulls up a chair, pretending to help him, but her true intentions are clear when she rests her hand on his thigh, continuing to write as if it’s the most natural thing. Her fingers begin their creeping ascent, and Xavier’s heart races. His body locks up, and anxiety rises as the ability to breathe leaves him.

Mai has always been flirty, something he used to find endearing, even if it was just a ruse to keep him coming back for more. But this was more than suggestive flirtation. When she presses her lips to his for the first time, she sighs as if kissing him brings her true joy.

How many times has he longed for this? Centuries of wishing for this moment—and he feels nothing at all.

Xavier pulls back with a pained expression, searching her beautiful eyes. He makes no move to stop her, testing how he truly feels. After so much effort and heartbreak over wanting, no, needing this and Mai, he has to be sure before giving it all up.

Her fingers trail delicately over his abs and chest. He lets her kiss him again; this time, Xavier kisses back, trying to coax out some emotion other than this empty void. Kisses trail his skin as she frees his cock, only to pull back in disbelief when she feels his lack of arousal.

He watches her with detachment as she strokes him, pouting when he remains limp in her hand. Gently stopping her as she moves to take him into her mouth, he says, “I can’t do this anymore,” his voice soft but resolute, as a weight lifts from his shoulders.

Mai narrows her eyes, her mask slipping momentarily as she murmurs, “Xavier, you don’t truly want her. You’re just so pent up after all these years that anyone will do,” her veil of teasing returns as she leans closer, urging, “Let me help. This is what you’ve always wanted, right?”

She frees her breasts from her tank top, squeezing and tugging enticingly. This isn’t the girl he fell in love with—the gentle, kind soul that captured his heart so long ago. Over her lifetimes, she’s become cold and cruel, the alluring brightness in her eyes dimming with time. Xavier realizes he’s been chasing someone who no longer exists, a profound grief washing over him.

Taking out his phone, he finds a picture of you and shows it to Mai as she scowls. Pushing her hand away, he murmurs, “You have no idea what I want. Watch.”

Gazing at your smiling face on the screen, he begins stroking his cock, becoming painfully hard within moments, lust shadowing his features. Mai’s eyes burn with genuine desire and jealousy, but he feels nothing for her.

Tucking himself back into his boxers and fixing his pants, he asks, “Did you throw yourself in front of that Wanderer to lure me into saving you?” This question has nagged him whenever the scene replays in his mind.

He’s almost certain Mai wasn’t near you when he began the battle, only to find her next to you when the Wanderer attacked. The chaos made it difficult for him to be sure.

The answer becomes clear when Mai clears her throat, quickly glancing away. Nervousness plays on her features as Xavier takes on a chilling demeanor, standing and collecting his paperwork with meticulous movements. Any remaining connection to her ignites and burns away as he regards her coldly, fighting hard to maintain his composure.

“I’ll be requesting a transfer for both her and myself. In the meantime, don’t even look in her direction,” Xavier says, his calm tone carrying an underlying warning: there will be consequences if she crosses the boundary he’s setting. Adjusting her top, shame, and embarrassment on her features, Mai watches as Xavier turns and walks away.

Your phone pings as you slip into an oversized T-shirt, and the screen lights up with a message from Sylus: “Looks like you won the game, dove. My money was on you all along,” complete with a celebratory champagne bottle emoji.

What the heck is that supposed to mean?

You’re about to hit the call button to get an explanation when a knock at the door reveals a rain-soaked Xavier. His eyes light with relief upon seeing you. You let him in, grabbing a towel and doing your best to help him dry off, earning a gentle smile as you fluff his hair.

“Are you okay?” you ask, pulling away and searching his face.

His fingers brush your cheek tenderly as he nods and says, “If I were to ask you to leave Linkon with me, what would you say?”

Your eyes widen as you sputter, “Um, I—like for the day?”

He gives you a rare, genuine smile, then chuckles as he replies, “No. Like forever. Together.” He kisses you tenderly and nuzzles your nose. “We can start over somewhere new,” he whispers earnestly.

You want to believe such a thing is possible, but doubt lingers, pulling you away from his embrace. “Xavier… you don’t mean that. Mai—”

“Is no longer part of my life,” he finishes. Gripping you by the waist and drawing you closer, he tilts your head to meet his gaze.“I don’t care how long it takes to prove it to you. I’m a very patient man,” he murmurs.

“How exactly do you plan to prove it to me?” you ask, your voice low and sensual, surprising even yourself.

You adore the way Xavier’s eyes heat up when he hears it. He hums softly, his lips brushing your ear while one arm holds you close, his fingers tracing down your arm to entwine with yours. When he kisses you this time, your body aches to melt against his, but you stand your ground, determined to make him fight for it. His tongue gently explores your mouth, groaning as he tastes you fully, cupping your cheek and deepening the kiss.

He pulls back and studies you, his thumb grazing your lips, admiring how they glisten as he spreads the moisture around. “So pretty…” he murmurs, his mouth skimming the soft skin under your ear, teeth grazing lightly, sending shivers through your body.

His brows scrunch in a pout as he reaches for your hands that hang limply at your sides, “Why won’t you touch me?” he asks, hurt evident in his tone.

“I’m not sure you deserve it yet,” you mumble, crossing your arms and turning away.

“I see,” he says with a hint of amusement.

Slowly, his touch travels under your shirt, teasing your nipple with light sweeps of his thumb. His mouth and hands explore every inch of your skin he can reach, worshiping you so delicately it takes your breath away.

“Xavier?”

“Hmm?”

“I want to see you,” you admit, nervousness spilling into your voice.

Xavier’s throat bobs as he nods, his eyes never leaving yours as he sheds his clothing. At first, he’s hesitant, afraid you may not like what you see.

It’s a silly fear since he’s the most perfect thing you’ve ever seen. Lean and slender, his body is honed by centuries of combat, the faint scars on his pale skin testifying to trials overcome. Your hungry eyes catch on his cock, so long and pretty that you moan quietly, just thinking about how good it would feel to take it.

The look of pure longing on your face instantly eases Xavier’s insecurities. His thumb sweeps over his cock, gathering beads of precum before he holds it to your mouth, a plea evident in his eyes. You want to remain strong, but the desire to taste him overpowers you. You suck it clean, your eyes fluttering shut with a sigh. His cock twitches eagerly as a strangled “fuckk, angel” escapes him, his thumb pumping deeply into your mouth as he bites his puffy lip.

“May I see you too?” he asks quietly, fingers tracing the hem of your shirt. You nod and let him pull it off, fighting the urge to cover yourself as your nipples perk in the chilly air. The way his gaze travels your body is so sensual and awe-filled that it’s almost devastating.

His hands tangle in your hair as he tilts your head, his kiss far more profound than any before. He presses you against the wall, trailing kisses down your stomach and along your inner thighs before pulling your shorts down. A groan escapes him when he sees your bare pussy.

Instantly, he thumbs open your folds, dragging long, languid fingers through your heat before holding his hand up for you to see. “So wet,” he murmurs, rubbing it around and watching it stick to his fingers. “Is this all for me? he asks, wonder filling his voice.

You nod, whimpering pitifully as he licks them clean, his eyes shutting in ecstasy at your taste. A desperate curse leaves him as he commands, “Spread your legs then; I can’t let any go to waste.” You do as he says, whimpering again as his fingers trace delicate circles over your clit. “You’ve done so well for me, angel… practically dripping. You’ll feel amazing like this.” Then his tongue is deep in your cunt, eagerly lapping up your arousal with a deep groan against your skin that shocks your entire system.

Your fingers tangle in his hair without hesitation, holding his face firmly in place as you grind against it. His straight nose brushes your clit with every turn of your hips, sending waves of pleasure through you. He kneels before you, and his gaze is unwavering as he slips a finger inside you, his lips and teeth teasing your slick, warm skin. Xavier loves how puffy your clit gets under his mouth and how sensitive you are to even the slightest of his touches.

He yearns to be closer to you, to be enveloped in your warmth and your scent as you cum in his mouth. Guiding you to the couch, he lies down and motions for you to come closer. “Use my face,” he commands softly, his voice laden with desire as he finishes. “I want to enjoy my meal.”

He eases you over him, his mouth inhaling you eagerly. Growing frustrated that you won’t put all your weight on him, he pushes you down so your pussy lands flush on his face. “Good girl,” he mumbles against you, urging your hips along. At first, you’re concerned about his ability to breathe, but the worry quickly vanishes as he teases your nipples and plays with your ass.

He whimpers as your fingers finally begin to trace his skin, his hips making needy pumps into the air, desperately seeking friction. Your touches are so tender, your gaze full of adoration, and a giddy smile spreads across your face at the sight of his slick-covered features.

You run your hands lovingly through his hair, the look on your face causing him to fall apart. He lets out a strangled cry that vibrates through your pussy as his cum covers his stomach. He sucks your clit harder, fingers pumping into you rapidly as you ride his face.

“Yes, yes, yess!” you shout, hand gripping his hair tightly while the other reaches around to play in his essence, coating his sensitive, twitching cock as he whimpers quietly. You can’t find it in yourself to feel ashamed as you turn into an absolute slut above him. It’s just so deliciously indecent.

He’s so sticky from his release, shimmering with sweat and the faint glow of his evol. His face and ears are flushed, your essence covering his mouth and chin. He gazes up at you with so much desire as you bring your soaked fingers to your mouth, tasting them slowly.

The moment he feels your tight walls flutter around his fingers at his taste, he replaces them with his tongue, devouring every bit of your cunt. Even after he cleans all your cum, he refuses to stop. He pulls you tighter against him, forcing your hips to move until you whine and tremble uncontrollably above him.

“T-too much, Xavier, pleasee,” you mumble desperately, tugging at his hair. He chuckles softly and sits up, letting you rest. You settle on his lap as he leans back against the sofa, giving you a gentle smile, his lips still wet and shiny. Your touch is uninhibited now, free from hesitation as your fingers map his skin.

He’s so responsive. Just the gentlest of touches elicit the most adorable, most sensual sounds. Your fingers ghost over a perked nipple, earning a strangled groan in return. His head kicks, and his hands form tight fists as he tries to show restraint.

You meet his eyes, your voice soft as you ask, ‘Xavier… have you ever felt truly cared for and cherished before?”

You want to cry and rage when he blushes and turns away, whispering “no” as pain briefly crosses his features.

Cupping his face, you kiss him tenderly, savoring the taste of yourself on his lips. “I promise, you’ll never have to spend another day without knowing how loved you are,” you vow earnestly.

His eyes widen in surprise as he silently mouths the word “love,” as if trying to see how it feels on his tongue. “No one’s ever said that word to me before,” he admits quietly.

You smile gently, meeting his gaze. “Well, try saying it out loud next time. You need to get used to it.” Your lips find his again, gentle and searching, conveying all the emotions too scary to put into words just yet. You bite and suck at his neck, teasing relentlessly when his body betrays how good it feels.

You work a faint mark on his collarbone, admiring it with a brush of your fingers as you quietly ask, “Are you really all mine?” Your awe-filled gaze meets his. He pulls you close, cupping the nape of your neck and murmuring, “Yes,” against your lips. A smile lights up your face, mirrored by his beaming expression as he witnesses your joy.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he says earnestly, brushing your hair over your shoulder.

You roll your eyes with a teasing grin and mumble, “Don’t push it,” before silencing his words by pressing your tongue into his mouth. He pulls away after a moment, biting his lip as he forces himself to be gentle, playing with your breasts. Little tugs and pinches over one nipple while the other hand traces your curves.

It’s not nearly enough.

“I won’t break, Xavier. You need to do it harder,” you plead, frustration filling your voice. Your plea is soon replaced with a surprised, strangled cry when he murmurs, “Yes, mam,” and stuffs his mouth full, biting and sucking roughly.

His touch turns rougher, too. His fingers squeeze your ass so hard they’ll surely leave marks, complimenting the bruise blooming on the swell of your breast.

“All mine,” he says, meeting your eyes with a teasing, confident smile as he echoes your earlier sentiment. You squeak in surprise as he grabs your thighs and presses down, sliding you along his cock, using your pussy to smear his cum around, soaking your heat and thighs in slickness.

You take over, hips moving faster, desperately seeking more of the pleasure he’s bringing you.

“You’re so soft and warm…” you murmur dreamily, ruining him when you finish with a whimper of, “Gonna feel so good filling me up,” before burying your face in his neck as you move against him.

“Can I put it in? Please?” he begs, lifting your ass just enough to rub circles with his leaking tip at your entrance. He’s trembling, holding back the urge to fuck you roughly. Instead of answering, you lower yourself onto him, wincing as his cock stretches you open.

He can’t take his eyes away from where you join, watching you drip down his length as he delicately rubs your clit, his eyebrows scrunched up in an adorable expression of concentration.

“Does it hurt?’ he asks, noticing your quiet gasp of pain as you take him halfway. You nod, whimpering slightly. He leans up to kiss you, pressing down on your bottom lip and tilting your chin to meet your blissed-out gaze. “You’re still so tight, angel. I’ll open you up better next time, I promise.” He nuzzles your nose, trying to distract you from the pain as he pushes in deeper.“Can you take it for me? I-i’m almost there,” he says, his eyes trickling back down to where you suck him in.

Pleasure begins to mix seamlessly with the pain, and you don’t bother to respond, your eyes rolling back as a sigh of ecstasy leaves you. Xavier takes that as a yes and gently presses you down until he bottoms out. Desire begins to overwhelm his features as he watches your essence mix with his at the base of his cock.

He searches your eyes, kissing you softly and murmuring, “How does it feel?”

“Honestly? Nothing has ever felt so good. So full…” you mumble, starting a slow, torturous cycle of movements. You pull him out to the tip before letting him fill you up again, over and over, until the moment comes when he finally allows himself to let go. He presses you flush against him and pushes deep inside you, setting his own much more intense pace. He spanks your ass with an adorable smile, his blue eyes shining with joy.

You eagerly match his movements, chanting, “Harder, Xavier! Harder!” You squeal happily when he flips you onto your back, throwing your legs above your head and fucking you so much harder. A mirthful smile appears on his face as his cock pierces deep inside you, forcing out a raw, strangled cry of pleasure. Pleasure builds and crashes in an instant, your pussy gripping and pulsing so tightly around him that he can barely breathe.

“That’s it, baby, cum all over me,” he praises, stroking your clit in time with his thrusts. His pace quickens, helping you ride your release. Sloppy sounds fill the air as you spill over him, spurring him on. He grips your hips tight to keep you from sliding as he fucks into you relentlessly.

“Such a good girl. You can give me another one, can’t you?” he murmurs, his weight pressing down on you, pushing his cock even deeper than before. The soft, pale hair trailing from his pelvis rubs your clit just right. His moves are deliberate, urging you to come again with a sharp cry as tears fill your eyes and your body starts to tremble.

He kisses your cheek, his movements never slowing. “So perfect for me… Just one more, angel,” he whispers, making pointed thrusts into your g-spot over and over and over until you spill all over him again.

He can’t seem to stop. Every orgasm he pulls from you only makes him more desperate and needy. “So fucking wet… you have no idea how good you feel,” he mumbles incoherently, burying his face in your neck and bringing you to release again just from the feeling of his warm mouth on your skin and his filthy words.

“T-too much, Xavier, I can’t! Please!” You’re sobbing and overstimulated—a sensitive, weak mess.

“Shh. It’s okay… It’ll be over soon. You want to show me how much you love me, right?” His tone is teasing, but the sincerity in his eyes tells you your answer means a lot to him.

Tears fall harder as he kisses you, and you manage to choke out a strangled “yes.”

“I know you do,” he says tenderly. His tongue pries open your mouth and softly commands, “Swallow,” as he spits into it.

Blushing deeply, you follow his instructions, moaning in ecstasy at the taste, which earns a pleased hum from him. He tugs on your bottom lip, admiring your blissful expression and the tears tracing your cheeks. His praises continue, bringing you closer and closer to the edge again.

“Such a pretty little angel, following my instructions so well.” Another orgasm approaches alarmingly fast, feeling almost too powerful, and you wonder if your body can withstand it. Xavier seems to read your mind because he mumbles, “You can,” before fucking you even harder.

You squirt so much that it pulls out a strangled, “Fuck, yes. You’re doing so fucking well…” from him as his cock squelches around inside you. “I–i can’t hold out much longer. You… you feel too good,” he admits softly against your lips.

“Please, Xavier... Please cum for me, i–i’ll do anything,” you plead, needing to feel claimed by him more than you can express. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you murmur, “Do you want to finish inside?” pulling him as close as you can.

He whimpers at your words, cradling your head against his chest as his cock continues to fuck into you mercilessly. The moment his hips stutter and he sinks into you with one last, deep thrust, his cum spills inside of you, and he captures your lips in the most tender kiss you’ve ever felt. Despite reaching his climax, he doesn’t stop. His cock pistons into you with renewed force.

With fierce determination, he pulls one final orgasm from you, his movements gradually slowing as you ride through it. As soon as he pulls back and looks at your ruined form beneath him, lust clouds his features, and his cock hardens again. Anxiety hits you over the state of your more-than-abused pussy, and you whine, “Noo, Xavier—just let me take care of you for a little while. ’m too sensitive.”

He chuckles, scooping you up in his arms and resting back on the couch. You try to fight the arousal his hardened length pressing against your ass brings. He meets your gaze, kissing you softly and holding you close as your heartbeats grow steady. He peppers your face with gentle, searching kisses.

“Earlier, I asked you how you felt about leaving Linkon with me,” he says, tucking hair behind your ear as nervousness plays on his face.

“Mhmm; the forever trip,” you murmur dreamily.

He smiles softly, meeting your gaze, and asks, “So, what’s your answer?”

You nuzzle his nose and answer earnestly, “I’ll follow you anywhere, Xavier. Just lead the way.”

A month later, you wake up before dawn to find Sylus’s face just inches from yours, a wry grin on his lips as he glances at Xavier sleeping beside you. “I took your key away specifically to prevent this kind of thing,” you hiss, careful not to wake Xavier as you untangle yourself from his limbs and quietly climb out of bed.

You gently brush his hair back, marveling at how his smile lingers even in sleep now. The melancholy that once plagued him for centuries has vanished, replaced by a serenity brought by your affection. He often tells you that you make him feel truly happy and free for the first time in his life.

After pulling on a robe, you follow Sylus to the kitchen, halting in your tracks when you see a brand-new laptop on the counter. “Sy, what did you do?” you ask hesitantly, eyeing the device with suspicion. He rolls his eyes and motions toward it.

“What does it look like, sweetie?” he retorts, as if that clears everything up.

“Why did you buy me a laptop, Sylus? You know I don’t like gifts…” you start, but he quickly interrupts.

“Well, you should have thought about that when you decided to move several hours away from me,” he replies. You can sense he’s happy for you and Xavier, but there’s a hint of struggle with this change in your relationship.

Drawing him close, you pinch his cheeks, enjoying the irritated glare he gives you. “You’re my best friend, Sylus. I’m not just going to up and leave you after all these years,” you assure him, giving his nose a gentle boop before turning away.

He chuckles, relaxing a fraction as he ruffles your hair and then refocuses on the task at hand. “I bought you the best one on the market. They assured me it has an excellent camera—I need to ensure that my pretty face comes through crystal clear during our video chats,” he says with a teasing grin.

“Ah, I almost forgot,” he adds, casually pulling a new, shiny smartphone from his pocket and handing it to you. “Both this and the laptop come with a tracking system that alerts me immediately if anything seems off,” he assures you, gently grasping your chin to meet your gaze. “Never hesitate to reach out for my help or just for company. I’m here for you, no matter how far away you are. Got it, dove?”

You want to tease him for being so serious, but his sincerity makes it difficult. It’s a rare and precious thing from him. With a gentle smile and tears welling up in your eyes, you pull him in for a tight hug. He freezes for a moment in surprise, but then his arms wrap around you, a smile spreading across his face as he swings you around.

When your feet settle back on the floor, the sadness has melted from his features. “The laptop has top-notch sound specs, too, so I can still sing to you when you’re feeling down,” he reassures you. It takes considerable effort to suppress the grimace that threatens to break your mask of enthusiasm.

Sylus lets out a low, knowing chuckle, easily seeing through you. “Hopefully, you’ll be able to fake that better over video,” he muses.

You grin and look around your empty home, excitement coursing through you. The transfer request with the Hunter’s Association went through almost immediately, and Xavier found a charming cottage with a small farm, plenty of bookshelves, and just enough room for the two of you. Sylus can’t help but smile at your evident joy. “Today’s the big day,” he teases.

You nod, your grin widening as he raises an eyebrow and offers a suggestive head toss. “You should wake your precious hunter now. You’ve got a lot to do,” he says.

Giggling, you pull him down to plant a kiss on his cheek, earning a blush that makes you laugh even harder. Then, you dash off to wake Xavier.

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