#I think she’d be fun as hell | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fxstpace · 2 months ago

Text

oh, snap!

summary: you and jake sim might have been best friends once upon a time, but not anymore. now, you barely talk to each other—so you decide to prove the universe wrong when you find out that he’s your soulmate, because there’s no way both of you are compatible.

⇢ pairing: jake sim x fem!reader ⇢ genres: fluff, angst, childhood friends to lovers au, soulmate au, college au ⇢ word count: 7.0k ⇢ warnings: profanity, alcohol consumption, sexual jokes, soulmate lore i made up ⇢ a/n: this is a fic i had posted on my now deactivated blog, which i’ve made minor modifications to. thanks for reading!

The universe has to be fucking with you.

You aren’t one to believe in manifestation or the law of attraction or whatever other nonsense your TikTok feed provides you with. You think it’s a total waste of time, energy, and resources.

Right now, however, you’re manifesting with all your might—eyes screwed tightly shut, hands clasped in front of your chest, only one thought running through your head: Please don’t let it be Jake Sim, please don’t let it be Jake Sim, please don’t let it be—

You open one eye cautiously. You lift up the pinkie finger of your right hand equally carefully.

Fuck.

You drop your hands and let your head fall onto the desk in front of you. A dull thud echoes around you, and normally, you would be apologetic since you’re at the library, but because you’re wallowing in self-pity you can’t bring yourself to care. A frown mars your forehead. Maybe you’re manifesting wrong. Is that even a thing? Perhaps you should ask your friend Yizhou how to do it; she’s pretty popular on Instagram so surely she’d have some idea. Maybe one of her fellow influencer friends is a manifester. (Is that what they call it?)

You lift your head up and stare morosely at the red thread twined around your little finger. It winds down the floor, swirling and looping in gentle curves. You glare at the person it’s connected to.

Jake Sim, that little piece of shit.

The object of your disdain is seated one table away from yours. He’s hunched over his laptop, occasionally scribbling something into the messy notebook in front of him. His glasses keep slipping down the bridge of his nose, and every time he pushes them back up, you feel a tug on your finger.

This brings you to the following question: Does he not know you’re his soulmate?

You have three answers. One: He knows, but he doesn’t care. Two: He doesn’t know. Three: He doesn’t care.

The second option is rare but not unheard of. There have been several cases where people vehemently deny the existence of soulmates and refuse to believe in it. Such people never get to see the red thread that is wrapped around their finger, even though it exists. Truthfully, you feel bad for the people on the other side of the thread—the non-believer’s alleged soulmate. They will forever watch from afar, never going too close, but never straying away either. It sounds lonely, more than anything else.

You push that thought away. If Jake doesn’t know, it should be a good thing, right? You don’t need a soulmate to survive. You can just continue with your life as it is—attending classes, hanging out with your friends… Yeah, you’re happy with everything you have.

Another tug at your pinkie forces out an annoyed huff from your mouth. You glare at the perpetrator, still engrossed in his work. To be fair, you didn’t know Jake was your soulmate until very recently either. You knew the thread existed but didn’t know who it was connected to. When you were younger, you and your friends would have tons of fun pulling at the thread to annoy your unknown soulmate. Getting a pull back was a source of glee for seven-year-old you. Now, it just fills you with dread.

“Oi.” Someone’s breath tickles your ear.

“Fucking hell!”

You swat at your best friend’s face, successfully smacking his cheek. Taehyun grunts in pain. “Uncalled for.”

“What the fuck, Taehyun?” You grouse. “Don’t scare me like that. Sorry ‘bout your cheek.”

The boy rolls his eyes, sitting down on the chair next to you and dumping his tote bag on the table. “I’d feel better if you actually meant your apology. Also, why aren’t you studying? Our midterms start in a week and staring at Lover Boy isn’t gonna help you pass your classes.”

“Don’t call him that,” you snap. “And I was… studying.”

“Right. That’s exactly why none of your books are open.”

“Shut up, people are staring.”

Taehyun raises his eyebrows but doesn’t comment. You’re not wrong—people are staring. Well, specifically, one person. You flex your little finger a little, straightening it out and then bending it again. If Jake feels any sort of yank, he doesn’t show it. Not that you’re interested, of course. You’re just… observing. So is he, clearly. He peers over his glasses at you both, his expression not betraying anything.

You flinch when Taehyun pinches your side. Turning back to him, you’re ready to yell at him for being an annoying asshole, when he fixes you with a pitying sort of look. You swallow.

“Hey,” he says softly, “don’t overthink, okay? He’s alone right now, you might as well talk to him about this.”

You blink uneasily, eyes flitting between your friend and the unopened book in front of you.

“How long are you gonna avoid him? You’ve been hiding this for months. And… he has a right to know,” Taehyun finishes, flicking a strand of hair out of his eyes.

You swallow again, around the lump in your throat that’s been sitting there for months. You found out that Jake was your soulmate months ago. Yet, you can’t seem to bring yourself to confront him or tell him about it. A far cry from the whole entire concept of soulmates—isn’t he supposed to be your missing puzzle piece? Certainly not, if you’re too nervous to even approach him. The universe must have made a mistake. Whatever higher being exists must have assigned you to the wrong person.

Taehyun is right, though. (You’re not going to admit it to him, of course; there’s no need to boost his already inflated ego.)

Jake Sim does have a right to know that he’s your soulmate.

You shift uncomfortably. Taehyun drops his gaze with a sigh. “I know you two have a history but can’t you just sort this out?”

“I… can’t,” you say lamely.

Your best friend looks sadly at you. You look away, fidgeting with the cover of your textbook. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a girl make her way to Jake’s table. He perks up immediately, greeting her with a soft smile. She sits down next to him and grabs Jake’s laptop, angling it towards her like it’s second nature. It probably is, you think bitterly.

Another reason why you can’t tell Jake Sim about this whole Situation: He has a girlfriend.

Park Chaerin meets your eyes and waves at you cheerfully. You wave back, feeling sick to your stomach.

You press the tip of your pen into your notebook, fighting the urge to close your eyes. Even the half-empty cup of coffee next to your laptop has done little to wake you up. Morning classes are the bane of your existence, and as a night owl, you vehemently dislike getting up early. Your professor rattles on about an assignment due in a week. You stifle another yawn behind your hand.

Feeling a yank on your little finger, you press the palm of your hand on the desk and ignore it. Jake Sim is sitting right next to you—courtesy of both of you having arrived five minutes late, and the only seats left were in the last row. Your Friday 8 AM lecture on the Quantum Theory of Electromagnetism is normally interesting, but Professor Jang makes even the most stimulating topics seem dry. You usually end up resorting to self-study sessions in order to understand everything.

Jake is scribbling something next to you. He’s probably doodling. He used to do that a lot when he was little, too. You recall pages upon pages of maths notes interspersed with tiny drawings of dinosaurs and dragons in the margins. They had made you laugh at the time.

“Hey,” he whispers.

You blink.

“Hi,” you say.

Jake grins at you—and you’re dazzled, for a moment. It’s been so long since you’ve had that smile of his being directed at you. You’ve seen him smile at other people on campus—his new friends, his girlfriend, acquaintances—all from afar, and you push down the bitter sting of rejection that pricks you every time. After so many months, it feels like you were in a pitch-black room all this time, and someone suddenly turned on the lights. It’s blinding.

Your former friend caps his pen and leans back in his chair. “Did you get enough sleep?”

“Um, yeah,” you answer. Just to be polite, you add, “...Did you?”

“Kind of.” Jake winces.

“Oh.”

“I was trying to understand the topic before this. Y’know—” he meets your eyes expectantly— “the whole Kronig-Penney model and the Bloch function and all that. I spent, like, two hours on them,” he says sheepishly.

“Oh, uh, yeah, those are kinda difficult,” you offer.

You’re still perplexed by this whole situation. Admittedly, after weeks of minimal contact with your childhood best friend, this isn’t how you imagined your reunion would go. All awkwardness aside, however, it feels… nice, talking to him again. It’s hard to move past the last few months, but there’s nothing wrong with this, right? You can think of it as two classmates bonding over a hard course they willingly chose. Two classmates who’ve known each other since they were toddlers just learning to walk, but you deliberately don’t think of that.

Jake hums. “The graphs get super confusing.”

“I guess,” you say.

He leans forward abruptly, elbows knocking on the edge of the desk. His stare on you is intent, focused. “Is your number still the same?”

You gape at him, mouth open like a blown-out fish. “Uh… yeah. Why?”

“So I can text you if I don’t understand anything,” Jake says simply, easily, still sporting that same easygoing smile of his. Your stomach twists into knots, and you force yourself to appear calm and not like your heart is about to leap out of your throat.

“I think you should’ve asked me first,” you manage to say.

He looks at you strangely, a dip in his eyebrows. “Why would I do that?”

Why, indeed.

Jake has known you for years; this is an undeniable fact. Even now, he probably knows you better than anyone else does—or ever could. So there’s absolutely no way he can’t make sense of the stifling awkwardness that surrounds you both.

However, the same holds true for you: You know Jake Sim just as well as he knows you. You know he’s trying to bridge a gap, make amends in a way only he does. You would be a fool if you didn’t take it in stride.

You crack a small smile. “Fair enough.”

He picks up his pen and twirls it between his fingers idly, before saying, “I’ll text you about other stuff, too.”

“Okay.”

“Great.”

Jake is all smiles and sunshine. He starts doodling again—what looks like a misshapen traffic cone of some sort. You look away, and tuck this little slice of goldenness into your rapidly rabbiting heart.

This is not good. You pay no heed to the thread around your little finger, and pick up your own pen. Angling your notebook away from your deskmate, you begin to write.

REASONS WHY JAKE SIM CANNOT BE MY SOULMATE FUCK THIS SHIT IM OUT

#1. he doesn’t know you as well as he should (okay, maybe he does)

You have no clue how you ended up studying with Jake Sim and Park Chaerin, of all people.

Your own friends, Kang Taehyun and Kim Gaeul are utterly nonplussed at this new situation. You give them a helpless shrug when they elbow each other and raise their eyebrows at you. The library is fairly empty at this hour, which makes it an ideal time to study without the distractions of other people. Of course, you didn’t consider the two people who’ve decided you’re a physics expert and require your guidance.

You humour them because you’re a nice person—not because you’re weak to Jake’s entreaties and his offer of buying you food for a whole week.

Chaerin smiles at your friends. “Hey, guys! Come join us.”

Taehyun is the first to blink out of his confusion. He moves forward, pulling out the chair opposite yours and settling down. “Thanks. We won’t bother you guys much.”

Gaeul nods her head. “Yeah, I have a bunch of assignments to finish.” She chuckles nervously, smoothing out her hair.

“No problem,” Jake supplies. “Your friend is super smart.”

Taehyun raises his eyebrows, pointing an incredulous finger at you. “You mean…?”

“Hey!” You swing your leg and kick Taehyun’s shin from under the table. He winces in pain. Gaeul giggles, and so does Chaerin. Jake lets out an amused snort.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” you say, “this bit isn’t that important from a test point of view, so just go over it to get the general idea.” You mark the paragraph you were referring to with a pencil.

Chaerin and Jake nod in tandem, like a pair of bobbleheads. You bite your lip to stifle your smile—they’re so perfect together, it’s ridiculous. You wouldn’t be surprised if Jake’s end of the string was connected to Chaerin’s instead. Is that even possible? You’ll have to google it up.

The thought puts a significant damper on your mood, and you turn away, drawing back from the pair sitting next to you.

Instead, you lock eyes with Taehyun, who’s glaring at you with enough intensity to drill a hole through your forehead. Talk to him, he mouths. You give him a small shake of your head.

You can’t talk to him about anything serious. Explaining physics to him and his girlfriend in the presence of your own best friends is a sort of safe zone; you don’t have to discuss anything personal whatsoever. All you have to do is prattle off a list of formulae and derivations and graphs, and hope that what you’re telling them to study is actually going to be asked on your midterm next week.

Taehyun rolls his eyes so hard, you wonder how they haven’t popped out of their sockets. He’s exasperated, you can tell—and Gaeul has probably been receiving the brunt of it all, because he would never outrightly say he’s upset with you. He would rant to Gaeul instead, trusting that she would tell you everything he told her but more nicely. That’s how your little trio circles back to each other.

You shift uncomfortably. Gaeul catches your eye and gives you a small, sympathetic smile. Your lips twitch upwards slightly.

“Wow,” Chaerin says, “I can’t believe we finished a whole unit in, like, one and a half hours.” She directs the next part to you. “You’re really smart. Don’t listen to Taehyun.”

“Y/N doesn’t listen to me anyway,” your friend grumbles. Gaeul hides her snort behind her styrofoam cup of coffee.

Speaking of which, you could really use some caffeine too. Anything to get away from Jake Sim and his quiet, knowing… aura, is the word you settle for. He wasn’t always this quiet—he used to be loud and raucous when it was just the two of you in high school—so while this new development isn’t surprising, it certainly is jarring.

“I’m going to get some coffee,” you announce to the table at large. “Anyone wanna come with?”

“I’ll come,” Jake says immediately. “I owe you for teaching us.”

“Oh, um.” You attempt to smile. “I—”

“Please go,” Taehyun says suddenly, his tone beseeching. “I need coffee too but I don’t trust Y/N to not put salt in mine or something.”

You gape at him, betrayal flooding your features. Gaeul snorts again. Chaerin just looks at you and Jake alternately. Jake’s lips twitch upwards. “Y/N still does that?”

You whirl around to face him. “What?”

“Oh, this is getting interesting,” Gaeul pipes up. “Do elaborate.”

“I second that,” Chaerin adds.

You feel your cheeks and the back of your neck heat up. You want to implore your former best friend to keep his pretty mouth shut, but your ego doesn’t let you grovel in front of three other people. Jake raises his eyebrows, lips parting to form a small ‘o’. He smiles, a little bit sheepish. Before he can say anything, you intervene.

“That was one time, Taehyun!” you snap. “And it was by accident. Why would I willingly put salt in your coffee?”

Taehyun raises an eyebrow at you, but inside, you know he’s laughing uncontrollably at your predicament. “Who knows? You might wanna poison me for being cooler than you.”

“What is this, high school? And why the fuck would I want a murder on my hands? I’m too young to go to jail.”

Chaerin tries to muffle her giggles with her hand. Both you and Taehyun turn simultaneously to look at her. “Sorry.” She giggles again. “You two talk like an old married couple.”

“Gross,” you say, at the same time Taehyun draws out an, “Ew,” and extends the last syllable like a child in kindergarten.

“Oh my God,” Gaeul says. “Chaerin, you’re a genius. I see it too.”

“Not you too,” Taehyun groans.

The two begin bickering again, and Chaerin joins them with enthusiasm, adding her own little tidbits of support for Gaeul in between the conversation. During all this, Jake remains remarkably quiet, an amused smile tugging on his lips.

You turn to him, a rush of sudden embarrassment making your cheeks heat up. It occurs to you that he’s never seen you like this—laughing and joking around with your friends. Friends that don’t include him. “Sorry,” you mumble. “Let’s go get coffee.”

“Okay.”

You and Jake push your chairs back under the table and exit the library. The coffee shop is two storeys down, so you make a beeline for the staircase. Your former best friend follows you, his undone shoelaces slapping on the tiles. He still doesn’t tie his shoelaces properly, then. Perhaps he hasn’t changed as much as you thought.

“Hey, by the way,” he says, “I was gonna tell Taehyun about the time I put salt in your coffee.”

“...I know.” Your answer is short, clipped. You force your shoulders to relax—there’s no need to tense up when Jake Sim is around.

“Oh. Uh, okay then.”

You don’t look at him, but you’re fairly certain he’s doing that thing he always does when he’s feeling awkward: A little rub of his thumb against the corner of his mouth. It’s a tic he’s always had, from the time you were in elementary school, and it isn’t any different now.

A stifling silence falls upon you both. You almost wish Taehyun and Gaeul were here, bringing Chaerin with them in tow. The three of them seemed to get along well; the chances of the five of you hanging out outside of college are high, now.

Of course, that also means you and Jake will have to pretend like everything��s alright between you both, and that your decades-long friendship wasn’t shattered by one single argument.

You round the corner to the staircase and begin the descent downwards. Jake holds onto the railing on the other side. Despite everything, you think Jake is the braver one between you two.

He breaks the silence as easily as he broke your heart, and asks:

“Do you still take your macchiato with two packets of sugar?”

“Yeah,” you say softly.

#2. he wants to be friends again (why?)

You blame Kang Taehyun for this.

Of course he had to forget to pick up the pizza from the local restaurant before coming back to his place. Of course he didn’t check the weather forecast beforehand, and even if he did, of course he didn’t tell you it was going to rain. Of fucking course he asks you to pick up the food for him because your classes only ended at 4 and the get-together to celebrate the end of midterms was at 4:30.

If you had the power, you would curse your best friend to oblivion. You grip your phone in your hand, gritting your teeth and staring down at the screen.

Group Chat: the holy trinity of dumbasses 🤡 [16:12] You: it’s fukcing pouring here and i didnt bring my car [16:12] taehyun (mega asshole 🤬): *Fucking [16:13] You: yeah it’s something you’ve never done before [16:13] You: i have the pizza [16:13] You: come and pick me up or im throwing it in the dustbin. [16:14] gaeul 🤍: u shouldn’t waste food y/n >:( [16:14] taehyun (mega asshole 🤬): You’re making Gaeul cry >:( [16:14] gaeul 🤍: girl what [16:15] You: aw cute [16:15] You: seriously tho [16:16] You: come pick me up [16:17] taehyun (mega asshole 🤬): OK, I’m on my way [16:17] You: FUCKING FINALLY

The plastic bag with all the pizza boxes dangles off your wrist, cutting into your skin. The steps that lead to the inside of the restaurant are slick with rainwater. You open Instagram and scroll through your feed mindlessly, clicking on your classmates’ stories.

You shiver. Rainy weather always makes the temperature drop by several degrees, and your flimsy jacket isn’t enough to drive away the chill. Forget Taehyun, maybe you should’ve checked the forecast instead. Sometimes (read: most of the time) you can be just as stupid as him. You wonder how Gaeul puts up with the single brain cell you and Taehyun toss between each other like a hot potato.

Honestly, you just want to go somewhere where it’s dry and warm.

Your phone vibrates in your hand, and it takes you a whole minute to comprehend the name that shows up on the caller ID.

Jake Sim.

Why is Jake Sim calling you?

You chew on your lip nervously before swiping your thumb up and accepting his call. Bringing your phone to your ear, you let the plastic bag sway gently. The line is silent for a few seconds, as though neither of you can comprehend the fact that you’re on a call with each other. It makes sense; this is the first time in months he’s calling you.

Finally, Jake’s voice crackles over the speaker. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“I’m outside. Can you see me?”

“I, uh.” You look around quickly. The parking lot in front of you is mostly empty, a good chunk of people having escaped the rain. It’s not hard to make out the solitary figure standing outside a beaten-down Toyota, holding an umbrella aloft. “Yeah, I see you.”

“Oh, good,” he says. “Do you have an umbrella?”

“Nope. Just… pizza.”

Jake makes a noise that sounds like a warbled chuckle. “Okay, I’m coming over there.”

“...Okay.”

For some strange reason, you don’t feel like ending the call. You fumble for something to say, because it’s weird just being on a call with someone you can literally see. The tug on your little finger as he comes closer to you makes a lump form in your throat. You take a deep breath and push it down into your stomach.

“You haven’t changed your car,” you say lightly.

Jake hums, the sound so familiar it doesn’t even surprise you until you register it. “Can’t afford a new one. Plus, it works decently.”

He strides over to you, and it’s unnecessarily sexy—the way he holds the black umbrella up with one hand and his phone to his ear with the other. You can see the speckles of rain on his grey hoodie where the raindrops bounce off the ends of the umbrella. His hair is swept to the side, lips pink with chapstick. Another yank on your pinkie finger; you clench your fist.

“Please,” you snort. “The last time I was in it, it took twenty minutes to start the engine. That was a year ago, Jake.”

He’s closer now, nearing the steps. His eyes don’t leave yours. They trace over all your features, as though he’s committing you to memory—you, with your tangled hair and tired eye bags, chapped lips and dirty sneakers. You swallow.

He puts his phone down and speaks to you directly. “I think that was the driver’s fault. But don’t worry, I can drive better now.”

You let your hand drop limply to your side.

“Hi,” Jake says.

“Hi again,” you manage to say.

“Here, let me take that.” He reaches out for the pizza bag, but you don’t give it to him.

“It’s fine. Just… hold up the umbrella and don’t get us wet.”

Jake laughs, a short, bright sound. “I won’t.”

You step towards him, quickly slipping underneath the shelter of the umbrella above your head. It’s a tight fit—one of your shoulders pokes out, as does one of his. You grimace when your sleeve gets splattered with rain.

Jake leads the way to his ancient car, scratched and scuffed with years of use. It was his dad’s old one, a gift for him on his seventeenth birthday, one that his mom had told you about to surprise him with. It seems like a bygone history now.

“I thought Taehyun was gonna come,” you comment.

Jake looks at you strangely. “I thought you asked for me to come pick you up.”

“I… did?” You gasp at the realisation. Kang Taehyun, that fucker. “I’m sorry,” you say awkwardly. “Taehyun probably told you that I was stuck in the rain.”

“He did,” Jake confirms. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. It’s not a problem at all.”

“Oh… okay, then.” Still, you feel guilty. Jake came all the way in the rain just because your best friend couldn’t stop being a meddling little nincompoop.

“Why wouldn’t I come?” Jake continues. His voice sounds deliberately casual. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“...Yeah. I guess.”

Jake stops near his car, fishing around in his pocket for the keys. “Look, I—I know things haven’t been the same lately, but I—” he licks his lips, another nervous tic of his— “I want you to know that I never stopped thinking of you as my best friend. Okay?”

You blink, sucking in a breath sharply. “I, um, yeah. Yeah, okay,” you say lamely.

Jake nods once, not meeting your eyes. “And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’ve found friends like Gaeul and Taehyun. They’re good people.”

“So is Chaerin,” you say. “And so is Sunghoon.”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling faintly, unlocking the door. “And so are you.”

Sometimes, you wonder if Jake also feels a pull on his little finger. If he does, does he ever wonder where it’s from? Or does he not feel it at all? You bend your finger and shuffle into the passenger side of his car. He closes the door for you before crossing over to the other side and climbing into the driver’s seat.

Whatever the case is, one thing is for sure: Jake Sim is your soulmate, and even if he wasn’t, you’d still be in love with him.

Just like you were one year ago.

#3. his parents adore you (and so do you, but there’s always the yearning and the aching)

“Hey, mom and dad are asking when you’re gonna visit again.”

Jake swings into your periphery, putting his phone back in his pocket. His mom had called about fifteen minutes ago to make plans for Jake to go home over the weekend. Potentially, you could also go—your childhood home is right next to his. It’s been a while since you last visited; your little sister sends you texts about how much she misses you.

He sits down on the chair next to yours, looking at you expectantly. You’re at your favourite spot in the library, one that’s been designated as you and your friends’ table. Jake and Chaerin have been officially integrated into your tiny trio; Gaeul and Chaerin get along really well, and Taehyun and Jake follow the same sports teams. Occasionally, their other friend, Park Sunghoon, joins you but he’s very quiet and mostly keeps to himself.

You don’t look up from your laptop screen when you answer, “I’m not sure.”

“Huh. Mom says you’ve said that to your mom every time she asks.”

Things between you and Jake have reached a semblance of normalcy, too. It’s not the same as it used to be—it can never be the same as it used to be—but at least the pang you feel in your chest whenever he talks to you has dulled somewhat.

“I’ve been busy,” you say vaguely.

“Oh, c’mon,” Jake retorts. “Our midterms were over a week ago. What’re you waiting for?”

You don’t reply. He waits for a moment before saying, “I could drive you.”

That gets your full attention. Your gaze snaps to him, mouth pressed together.

“I mean, we literally live right next to each other, Y/N,” he continues. “It’ll save gas. And the environment.”

You snort. “Your car is more of a hazard to the environment than us not carpooling is.”

“You don’t know how to drive,” he deadpans.

“That’s not true! I can drive, I just choose not to. Saving the environment and all.” You point an accusing finger at him. “If you really care about the environment, you should take the bus home with me.”

Jake shrugs loosely. “I don’t care how we go home, as long as you come with me. I’m sure your sister misses you too.”

There it is again: That easy, light way he says things. Nonchalant and unaffected—though it affects you more than it should.

“You’ll pay for the tickets?”

Jake’s grin is golden. “If that’s what it takes.”

That’s how you find yourself crammed in between Jake Sim and an old auntie with a flower-patterned bandana, on the bus back to your hometown three days later. The auntie gives you and Jake a few cookies she’d packed for her grandchildren, and then promptly falls asleep on your shoulder (Jake couldn’t stop laughing for ten minutes when he saw the line of drool she’d left on your shirt sleeve). He offers you his own shoulder in case you want to sleep too; your cheeks heat up at the thought. It’s a bumpy ride, but after stopping at the bus stop nearest to your house, Flower Auntie sends you off with a few more cookies and a box of homemade kimchi, and you and Jake begin walking back to your neighbourhood.

Some things have changed—the playground is being renovated, your old elementary school is being repainted, the Kims who owned the local ramen shop retired and set the place up for rent. But at its heart, it’s all the same, you think. Kids still run around holding warm bungeoppang from street stalls and cartons of strawberry milk from the convenience store. Their mothers sit around and gossip about celebrities and complain about their husbands. People working corporate jobs curse under their breaths about their bosses and their unforgiving schedules. It’s late in the evening when you arrive, a bag containing all of Flower Auntie’s goodies hanging off Jake’s arm. All the local eateries are opening up for the dinner rush, drawing people in with the offer of free beer and soju for every meal purchased.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Jake says, a fond smile on his lips.

“Yeah,” you agree softly.

Despite everything, it’s still home.

The two of you cross the streets to your houses, sneakers slapping against the pavement. Several neighbours who’ve seen you both grow up call out and wave hello. You’re stopped by Mrs. Lee’s son, Heeseung, who makes you both promise to go out for dinner with him tomorrow.

Finally, you stand in front of your childhood home. The rusted door and peeling-off paint greets you like a best friend. You shoulder your backpack and ring the doorbell, saying goodbye to Jake as he walks into his own house.

The door swings open—only to reveal Mrs. Sim standing at your doorway. Before you can voice your confusion, she pulls you into a tight hug, mumbling your name into your hair.

“Welcome home,” she says, moving aside and letting you in. “Your mother is in the kitchen. She’s just started making dinner.”

“Oh, okay.” You grin. “It’s great to see you, Mrs. Sim.”

“I swear you love Y/N more than me.”

You turn around and see Jake standing by the door, an affectionate look in his eyes. You direct your grin at him, too.

“Suck it up, loser.”

Jake’s guffaw rings in your ears even when your sister screams with unabashed joy as soon as she sees you.

#4. he broke your heart once (he could do it again)

You stare at the red thread wrapped around your finger. It’s dulled a bit now, compared to how it was a few years ago. Some of its shine is lost; it looks more opaque now. You crook your finger experimentally, knowing it's futile but still holding on to some hope that maybe Jake will feel it too.

To live for the hope of it all, as a wise song-writer once penned.

You startle when Jake sets a mug of coffee in front of you. His house is empty—your mother and Mrs. Sim went to buy groceries together and his father is out of the city on a business trip. Your sister is hanging out with her friends but told you to call her if you needed anything.

“Here you go,” Jake says, sitting down on the chair next to you. “Have some and then we can go buy some hangover soup.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, curling your fingers around the mug and savouring its warmth. The liquid inside is not too bitter, but not too sweet either—just how you like it.

“Feeling any better?”

You wince. Going out for dinner with Heeseung meant drinks were also attached. Being back in your hometown after weeks meant you had to check out all your favourite restaurants again and visit the ones that popped up after you left for college. The result: You swallowed down entirely too much soju, Heeseung and Jake had to physically carry you home, your head is killing you right now, and your embarrassment is at its peak.

When you woke up in the early afternoon to texts from your family members detailing their various absences, you reluctantly made your way out of your bedroom and to the Sims’ place.

Which brings you here, perched on a chair at the Sims’ dining table, fiddling with your red string of fate, while the object of your thoughts sits right next to you.

“Yeah, a little,” you murmur in response to his question.

“Good.” Jake stretches his arms above his head, exposing a sliver of his midriff. You swallow. “Your alcohol tolerance is still the same.”

“Yours isn’t any better,” you counter. “You didn’t drink more than one bottle of soju.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You were counting?”

You huff, ignoring the warmth that spreads to your cheeks. “That’s not the point.”

“I’m just joking,” he says, bringing his hands back down. “I was kinda surprised Heeseung has a girlfriend now.”

You hum, taking another sip of your drink. Your head still pounds, but the caffeine is kicking in and making you more lively. It is strange, though, seeing your childhood friend settle down. Judging by the way he talks about her, he’s completely smitten. She’s my soulmate, he had said, and I don’t even believe in my thread.

The memory makes hurt bubble up inside your throat, so you chug the remaining liquid in the mug.

“It’s nice, though,” Jake continues, something… wistful crossing his face. “I wish I had someone like that.”

You look away, staring down at the ring of coffee left on the wooden table from your mug. “Yeah, I guess… Aren’t you dating Chaerin, though?”

You bite the bullet—what’s the point, anyway? There’s no use in dragging it out. Not when he clearly doesn’t know that his soulmate is sitting right next to him. You can deal with the hurt that comes with rejection later.

Jake stills. You glance at him—he tilts his head confusedly. “Chaerin? No… What makes you think that?”

“Everyone said you guys were dating,” you say with a small, uncertain shrug.

“I mean…” He blinks. “We hooked up once, but that’s really it.”

It’s your turn to blink now, bemused. “Huh?”

“Yeah, we were drunk and it just sorta happened? I dunno,” he says sheepishly. “We didn’t remember any of it later, so we just agreed to remain friends. Plus, her soulmate is Sunghoon.”

“Wait, what?” Your teeth worry your bottom lip. Your mind is swirling with questions—was it possible that you had misread Jake Sim all this time?

“Yeah,” he says softly. “It’s no big deal.”

“...Oh. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed things,” you apologise quietly. Despite all this, his words make a swell of optimism rise in your chest.

He shrugs. “I, uh, wouldn’t blame you. We didn’t talk much after… after everything.”

“Yeah.” Your admission is soft, regret burning a hole in your tongue.

“So, um…” Jake trails off, looking unsure of himself. That’s a first, you realise with a start. He’s usually so calm and collected, even in the worst times. “Do you still feel the same as you did a year ago?”

You suck in a breath. “Why—why would you ask me something like that?”

“I—just curious.”

His eyes land on yours, beseeching and glorious. Even when he’s just woken up, he looks like he’s been dipped in the sun’s golden rays. Your heart hammers inside your chest.

“Wait, can I ask you something else? Why… did you reject me that night?”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you’re transported back to that fateful evening in July.

You stuttered the words out, and explained that you were in love with him, that you were pretty sure he was your soulmate, regardless of who your string was actually connected to. With every new sentence you tacked on, the emotion on Jake’s face vanished. Towards the end, you felt your face crumble.

He left you alone on the pavement, broken-hearted and lovesick.

Jake clears his throat awkwardly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come off so harsh on you that day.”

“I don’t care about that, Jake,” you say simply. “I just want to know why.”

“Because I was stupid. I didn’t believe in the soulmate bullshit, but I know you do. You’ve always been a hopeless romantic. I—” He licks his lips before continuing— “The truth is, Y/N, I really, really like you… But I didn’t want to hold you back from finding your true soulmate—whoever was on the other side of your string—’cause I know they’re gonna be the one for you.”

If you weren’t sitting already, you’re sure Jake’s confession would have swept you off your feet and you would be a bumbling mess on his dining room floor. Seeing the forlorn look on his face, you nearly crumble. How stupid your soulmate is. How kind and caring and selfless.

“So I rejected you. I thought I wouldn’t be able to make you happy.” He pauses for a moment, his voice dropping. “It’s still the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.”

You finally find your voice. “Jake…”

He laughs somberly. “You probably think I’m an asshole.”

“I could never think that,” you say firmly. Your hand finds his on the tabletop, and he laces your fingers together, staring at your connected palms with awe.

“I do think you’re a little bit dumb, because I’ve liked you too since, like, forever—”

“Define forever,” he interrupts, not unkindly.

“Well—maybe since the time you surprised me with all the physical copies of that book series I wanted for my fifteenth birthday?”

“Then,” he says, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand, “I’ve loved you since before forever.”

A surprised laugh bursts out of your mouth. You feel a tug on your little finger as Jake moves his hand away from yours and cups your cheek with it instead. “I’ve also wanted to kiss you since before forever.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, drawing closer to you.

You lean forward and capture his lips with yours, running your tongue along his bottom lip. He parts his mouth with a sigh, tilting his head and deepening the kiss. His other free hand comes to rest on the nape of your neck; you wind your arms around his neck. The position is a bit cumbersome—the edge of the chair digs into your thigh, and he nearly knocks his elbow on the back of his chair—but his touch is searing hot, the welcome kind, the kind that makes you crave more and more and more.

“You promise you won’t do it again?” you ask later, out of breath and flushed.

“I promise,” he says, and he links his pinkie finger with yours to seal the deal.

The thread tied around it glows golden.

#5. he doesn’t even believe in soulmates (but he’ll try)

“You can’t see it?”

“I’ve told you a million times already,” Jake says patiently, “but I can’t.”

“How?” You look at him dubiously. “It’s literally a glowing golden thread connecting you and me.”

“I don’t need a thread to connect us,” your boyfriend quips. “I can think of better uses for a rope.”

You make a sound of disgust. “We’re at the library.”

Jake Sim grins at you, all bright and shining and vivid. “So?”

Taehyun lets out a pointed cough, typing on his laptop. “There are other people here,” he says, motioning to Gaeul, Chaerin and Sunghoon. All three of them are very obviously avoiding your gaze. Even the tips of Taehyun’s ears are pink. You stifle a giggle.

“Sorry,” Jake says, not sounding sorry at all. He picks up your hand again, thumb brushing against the knuckle of your little finger, right above the knot where the golden string is tied. He whispers to you, next, “I just don’t believe in it.”

“I know,” you say. “But you’re missing out on a lot.”

Jake hums. “I don’t believe in soulmates. But I believe in you.”

You roll your eyes, ready to chew him out for being a sappy romantic again, when his next words make your heart stutter.

“I think that’s good enough for me.”

1K notes · View notes

velarisdusk · 4 months ago

Text

Velvet Whispers, Midnight Truths

Azriel x Reader

part 2 -> word count: 5.3k content: [ explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV, az doesn't pull out lol, casual sex, hurt/comfort kinda?, jealousy, friends to lovers, language ] summary: Frustrated by Azriel's apparent indifference towards you, you seek solace in the arms of others. But words exchanged over a family dinner ignite a long-suppressed jealousy. A heated exchange, an unforeseen confrontation, and a passionate encounter follow. author's note: i received this ask a couple of weeks ago and omg i had so much fun writing this, i love drama ✦ . Masterlist . ✦

You liked to think you could handle a lot; political disputes, bloodshed, mountains of paperwork. But this? No, this was simply too much. You were in hysterics when Nesta found you — or rather when Nesta was rounding a corner and you bumped into her with enough force to make even Cassian stumble back.

“(Y/n), do you sincerely believe that that,” she’d gestured between you and the general direction you’d run from, “was ever going to work?” Her words were like a knife to the gut, her tone like grabbing it by the hilt and twisting. How she’d known what you’d seen was beyond you. But it wasn’t lost on her, or anyone else except Azriel apparently; the longing stares out the window down to the training ring, always sitting next to or across from him at the table, the way your scent would change when he’d pop into and out of a room — a dead giveaway of where your mind went when he was around.

So to see him like that — with her… It was a sight that seared itself into your memory. Their lips were locked in a passionate kiss, her fingers threaded through his dark hair. His hands roamed her body with unbridled desire, tracing the curves of her sides, waist, and hips, cupping her breast, and cradling her neck. To say it stung would’ve been the understatement of the millennia.

“It’s just… how he is,” her tone softened when she noticed your wince. “He was obsessed with Morrigan for five hundred years… five hundred, (y/n). I won’t be surprised if he’s set on Elain for five hundred more. What she plans to do, well,” Nesta raised her hands as if to say ‘not my problem.’ Her words were harsh, but you knew they held some truth.

“Maybe you just need to go to a pleasure house and fuck him out of your system,” she’d said plainly, smoothing down your hair as if she were discussing the weather. A pleasure house? They were illegal, but you weren’t naive, you knew they were out there. They were all underground; places you found through a friend of a cousin of a neighbor. Before you could dry your eyes, Nesta pulled a pen out of her pocket and scribbled an address onto your wrist. You didn’t want to know why she’d had it memorized. “Pretend it’s him, or the cute guy at the coffee shop, or whoever honestly. Hell, maybe even think of whoever it is you’re fucking,” she said with a smirk as she wrote. “Whatever you need to do to get over him, do it.”

You spent months in and out of taverns, walking in alone, walking out with a different male each time. It was fun… when they knew what they were doing. It was a wonder; males don’t know what they’re doing even if they have all the time in the world to figure it out. On the nights when there were enough of you for a family dinner at the River House, you didn’t miss how they all tried to scent you subtly, and eventually how Azriel’s shadows crept under the table all the way towards your feet, curling around your ankles as if trying to unravel your secrets. That was one of the many things that had stopped lately, sitting near him. The first night you took Mor’s usual seat, she’d given you a bemused look but said nothing of it. Meanwhile, the windowsill grew colder, both from the changing weather and your prolonged absence.

Your thoughts, however, were as persistent as ever. You didn’t think about him as often these days (Nesta’s advice worked pretty fast, you thought), but that was before he walked into Rhys’s office while you were discussing how to best quell the persistent tensions with Autumn.

It had been a quick in-and-out from him, typical as of late. Azriel strode in, his movements fluid and purposeful. He dropped some papers onto Rhys’s desk, leaning over your shoulder to do so. As he straightened, his right hand briefly rested on your other shoulder, the touch light but noticeable. He gave Rhys a nod and left. The warmth of his touch lingered long after he’d gone.

“We’ll have to speak to Eris again, soon,” he’d said with a barely-there note of urgency as he sifted through Azriel’s report.

“I can go,” you’d volunteered. “I’ve been meaning to go for some honey. Autumn Court honey-”

“-is the best, I know,” he finished with a soft smile. “Listen, I know I don’t need to warn you, but whatever conversation you may have with Eris, it’ll likely be heated. And tense. Things right now aren’t the best after-”

“I know,” it was your turn to say. “I can handle him, Rhysie, don’t you worry,” you teased, using that nickname you knew he’d roll his eyes at. “I’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning.”

The feeling of Azriel’s hand on your shoulder was a brand on your skin.

Not an hour after you’d met with Rhysand, you were standing in the entrance of the pleasure hall Nesta’d told you about all those weeks ago. The kind-looking female at the desk brought out a book of names so you could choose… your companion for the evening. You’d flipped through page after page, your nerves growing with each description you read. None of them were your type to begin with, but to pick and choose from a book felt wrong. You were about to point one out at random when the door opened, and who should walk in but the heir to the Autumn Court himself?

You’d somehow convinced him not to rush out, and to have a chat over coffee. He somehow convinced you that it was meant to be that he walked in right when you were about to make a mistake.

You’d somehow convinced each other it wouldn’t be an entirely terrible and irreversible mistake to get a room at the hotel across the street for a couple of hours.

Then again one night the next week.

And again three days after that.

That was how you found yourself underneath Eris Vanserra now. It was meaningless for both of you, purely physical, but you couldn’t deny the added thrill of finding someone so mutually attractive.

“Gods, you’re so fucking tight,” he groans from behind you, grabbing your hips and pulling you back onto his cock with a force unmatched by any of your tavern trysts. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room, punctuated by your moans and heated whispers.

Rhysand would be waiting for you to get back. You were supposed to meet with Eris to discuss the logistics of a diplomatic meeting to address inter-court relations. And then there was the family dinner tonight. Almost everyone was home – only Amren was absent, her extended stays in the Summer Court becoming more frequent these days.

“Hurry up and finish, I’ve got places to be,” you tell him over your shoulder, looking his way just as he lands a firm smack on your ass.

“Better places than right here?” he asks. With a particularly hard thrust, you’re thrown off of your forearms with a yelp, face-first into the pillowy sheets.

“I didn’t say that-” You’re cut off by a moan that escapes you when he reaches around and toys with your nipple. “But I’ve got to get back and tell Rhysand that we-”

“Let’s not talk business, please,” he says, a hint of irritation in his voice. “The last thing I want to think about right now is leaving the lands of one tyrant to go back to the lands of another.” You turn your head indignantly at that, ready to defend your High Lord, when he shoves your face back into the mattress, abandoning any pretense of gentleness. Eris’s hands roamed your body, his touch igniting sparks along your skin. Your breath caught as he reached a particularly sensitive spot. You arched into him, pushing aside all thoughts of diplomatic meetings and family dinners.

This? This was simply too good.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

For the first time in months, Feyre called for a family dinner at the River House. It was a rare occurrence lately; as soon as someone returned, someone else had to leave. She and Cassian had returned from the Continent this morning, and Azriel and Nesta from Autumn hours ago.

Azriel’s gaze swept across the table, taking in the faces of his family. Rhys sat to his right at the head, one hand intertwined with Feyre’s, the other gently stroking Nyx’s hair as the toddler babbled happily in his high chair. Cassian’s booming voice filled the air, entertaining them with tales of his and Feyre’s adventure, and Mor leaned in, her golden hair catching the candlelight as she listened. Even Nesta, usually with her mask of indifference, couldn’t entirely hide the fond exasperation in her eyes as she watched her mate’s exaggerated retelling.

When his eyes fell on Elain, the tips of his ears reddened slightly. The memory of their encounter all those months ago flashed through his mind. The passion, the nervousness, the realization that followed. He’d handled it poorly. The guilt of touching her so intimately, only to find himself unmoved, still weighed on him. He quickly averted his gaze, hoping no one had noticed his momentary discomfort.

They’d been happily sitting at the table just shy of ten minutes when a realization struck him. The chair diagonal to his remained suspiciously empty. He cleared his throat, taking a sip of water to cover his sudden unease. “Where’s (y/n)?” he asked, his tone carefully neutral. “I thought we were all home tonight?”

“She’s probably with Jasper,” Cassian said offhandedly, sawing into his steak with perhaps more force than was necessary. Azriel’s grip on his fork tightened imperceptibly.

Feyre shook her head, a slight frown creasing her brow. “Jasper? No, that ended forever ago. Last I heard, she was seeing Ares.”

“Ares?” Nesta’s eyebrows shot up. “I could’ve sworn I saw her with Roan a couple of weeks ago.”

“Before Ares,” Feyre clarified, exchanging a knowing look with her sister.

Mor leaned in, unable to hide her curiosity. “Wait, wasn’t there a Soran at some point too?”

He tried to maintain his composure, but it grated on his nerves. His jaw clenched tighter with each name mentioned, his grip on his fork becoming white-knuckled. The metal bent under the pressure of his fingers, and his shadows whirled around him, betraying the storm of emotions the words had unleashed.

Elain’s soft voice cut through the chatter. “It’s been Eris a few times now.”

The table fell silent, all eyes snapping to Elain. She paused, her glass of wine halfway to her lips, suddenly aware of the weight of her words.

“Lucien mentioned something about it,” she murmured, before taking a rather large sip.

Something inside Azriel snapped. He slammed the bent fork onto the table with enough force to rattle the dishes, the sound cutting through the stunned silence. Without a word, he abruptly stood, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.

Ignoring the concerned looks and half-formed questions from his family, he strode out of the dining room. His shadows darted around him, agitated and dark.

Outside, he took a deep breath of the cool night air, trying to calm the storm raging inside him. But he couldn’t; not until he knew where she was. His shadows slipped from him, spreading out into the night, searching for her. He clenched his jaw, the thought of them, of her with him, branded into his mind. With a low growl of frustration, Azriel let his shadows envelop him completely.

Azriel sat at the small, dimly lit cafe, the steam rising from the untouched cup of coffee in front of him. He didn’t need it, not really. The caffeine wouldn’t do anything to calm him, but it gave him something to do with his hands. He settled into a corner seat, his shadows swirling restlessly around his feet as he waited. He stared out the window, his eyes trained on the hotel’s entrance, but his mind was elsewhere. The fury simmered beneath his skin, an itch he couldn’t scratch, and it made him feel restless.

But why was he so mad?

They weren’t together. They’d never been together. She was free to do whatever she pleased, with whoever she pleased. He’d never allowed himself to think of her that way — she was beautiful, yes, but he had never looked at her and felt that familiar tug of desire that he’d experienced with others. She was more than that… It was different.

He scowled, leaning back in his chair as the thought sank in. If that was true, if he’d never seen her in that light, then why did the thought of her with Eris make his blood boil? What was it about seeing her with that arrogant piece of shit that had twisted something deep inside him?

His jaw tightened. Maybe it wasn’t just about Eris. Maybe it was about her.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut.

Azriel’s grip tightened around the coffee cup, the ceramic warm against his palm as he watched the entrance of the hotel from the cafe. It wasn’t long before he saw Eris stride out, pausing briefly to glance around as he adjusted the cuff of his sleeve. Azriel scoffed, imagining all the things he’d love to do to that self-satisfied prick. The idea of wiping that smug look off Eris’s face brought a twisted sense of satisfaction.

But then, his breath caught in his throat as you stepped out of the hotel, turning to walk in the opposite direction, towards the River House. Azriel’s jaw clenched. Were you planning on showing up and pretending nothing had happened?

He let out a slow, measured breath, willing the fury to simmer down as he pushed away from the table. Keeping a safe distance, he followed you through the darkened streets, his shadows drifting ahead to ensure your path was clear. He told himself it was just to make sure you got back safe. That was all.

But the anger, the confusion, the gnawing sense of something he couldn’t quite name — it lingered, gnawing at him with every step he took.

As you neared the house, Azriel’s pace slowed, his footsteps nearly silent as he watched you walk the final block. The moment you turned the corner, his form dissolved into shadows, and he winnowed back into the house, appearing in the dining room with a gust of displaced air.

“Az, where the hell did you–” Cassian started, but Azriel cut him off with a cold glare.

“Shut up and eat.”

“Az?” Feyre’s voice held a note of concern. “You–”

“I said sh–” he stopped himself when he looked up and realized who’d spoken. “Eat.” Azriel’s tone was softer but still left no room for argument as he dropped into his seat, his jaw clenched tight. The others exchanged uneasy glances, but after a brief, tense pause, the conversation resumed. It was quieter at first, voices subdued as they cautiously picked up where they’d left off, but soon enough, the normal rhythm returned.

Minutes later, the door creaked open, and you walked in, your presence instantly drawing the room’s attention. You hung up your coat, smoothing down your hair as you made your way to the table. But as you sat, the scent slammed into him, unmistakable — Eris. It was all over you, clinging to your skin, and your clothes, filling the room with the unmistakable evidence of your encounter.

Azriel’s fists clenched under the table, though his face remained neutral. To his left, Elain’s lips curved into a small, knowing smirk, her gaze flicking between you and Azriel. She had noticed the shift in him, the way his entire demeanor had changed the moment she casually mentioned who you’d been spending time with lately. And now, with the proof of it hanging in the air like a challenge, she could see through his cool facade, the turmoil beneath it. But Azriel said nothing, just stared down at his plate.

The table was silent as you ate, the tension thickening with every passing moment. Azriel’s gaze was fixed on you, his patience wearing thin. When it became clear that you had no intention of bringing up the unmistakable smell that lingered around you, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Why do you smell like Eris?” His voice cut through the silence with a directness that left no room for misinterpretation.

You looked up, eyes wide with surprise at the bluntness of his question. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for your response.

Azriel stayed deathly still, back straight against the seat. “You knew someone was going to ask. His stench is all over you — you reek of him. So why?”

You raised an eyebrow, your expression one of calm defiance. “I think you’re old enough to have had that conversation with someone else already.” Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of Rhysand summoning a bottle of liquor from the cabinet.

A murmur rippled through the room. Elain’s eyes widened in delighted surprise, while Feyre’s face twitched, clearly uncomfortable. But a smirk played on Nesta’s lips, amused by the scene unfolding before her.

Azriel’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t look away from you. His jaw clenched, and the intensity in his gaze was unmistakable. “You know, most people would have the decency to keep their affairs private.”

Your lips curled into a sardonic smile. “And some people think it’s their job to play moral watchdog. How very… quaint.”

Mor, now holding the bottle of liquor and pouring, raised an eyebrow at the exchange but made no move to intervene, clearly interested in the outcome.

Azriel’s nostrils flared, his irritation evident. “Quaint? Is that what you call it when someone’s reckless behavior affects everyone around them?”

You leaned forward, your voice icy. “How is what I choose to do with my time affecting everyone else? And who’s being reckless here? I’m not the one who’s turned this dinner into a circus.”

Nesta’s smirk widened slightly, her eyes gleaming with a mix of satisfaction and anticipation. The room’s atmosphere grew thicker, tension palpable as both of you held your ground, eyes locked on each other.

“Can we take this somewhere else?” Azriel’s voice was edged with frustration. It was unlike him to let his composure slip.

You shook your head, a glint of challenge in your smile. “No, you’ve already brought it up. Go ahead.”

His voice dropped, carrying a hard edge. “I don’t think you should be with him.”

Your gaze hardened, your tone sharp. “Not that it’s any of your concern, but I’m not ‘with’ him.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed. “I don’t think you should be fucking him then!”

You met his challenge head-on. “And who are you to decide who I fuck?”

His frustration boiled over, his fists clenched at his sides. “I’m–” He started, but the words faltered on his lips. The reality of the situation hit him hard, and he realized he had no right to be this worked up. With a ragged breath, he abruptly stood from the table, circling it to your seat. Without another word, Azriel grabbed your arm with a firm grip and began to drag you towards the door. Your eyes widened in surprise, but you didn’t resist. The room’s atmosphere had shifted, the air charged with an electric tension. Azriel’s grip on your arm was firm but not harsh, leading you toward a quieter corner of the house.

He guided you into a dimly lit hallway, far from the prying eyes of your family. As soon as the hall door clicked shut behind you, the space seemed to close in. Azriel’s breath was uneven, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that spoke of more than just frustration.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “I just… I can’t stand the thought of you with him.”

You stepped closer, your voice equally low but steady. “And what does that matter to you? You’ve never been one to concern yourself with me.”

Azriel’s gaze softened. “That’s not true. I’ve always cared about you. And thinking about you with him… it drives me mad.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t seem like you were too concerned when you were feeling up Elain.”

Azriel’s expression shifted, guilt and frustration clouding his features. “That’s not fair. Things are complicated, you know that. It wasn’t about not caring for you.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Then what was it about? Because to me, it seemed like you were perfectly fine ignoring me.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, but his voice was steady. “I never ignored you, (y/n),” he said, his touch firm yet gentle as he lifted your chin to meet his gaze. “I may have been spending more time with Elain, but I never ignored you. Her and I already spoke, forever ago, a few days after it happened, actually. It was a mistake. One I deeply regret.”

You shook your head, the hurt evident in your eyes. “Words are easy, Azriel. Actions–”

“–actions were a mess, I know.” He cut you off, stepping closer. “But I’m trying. I’ve been trying.”

You searched his face, conflicted emotions warring within you. “And yet, here we are, you feeling the need to interfere in my life.”

Azriel’s gaze held yours, earnest and intense. “Because I care about you, just as much as you care about me, if not more.” You had to suppress an eye roll at that. If only he knew. “Knowing you’re with him… I can’t help but feel it’s not right.”

A heavy silence fell between you, the unspoken words hanging in the air. Before you could break it, Azriel closed the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours in a fierce, hungry kiss. It was raw, demanding, and full of the emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface all this time. You responded in kind, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer. The world outside seemed to fade away. In the quiet darkness of the hallway, your bodies pressed together, the tension from your confrontation fueling a different kind of intensity.

Azriel’s hands roamed over your body with a desperate need, as if he was trying to erase the anger and frustration from earlier, trying to replace the scent tinging your usual honey and lavender with night-chilled mist and cedar. He pushed you against the wall, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat of his touch. His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as his kiss grew more insistent.

You gasped against his lips, your body responding to his touch with desire and need. Your hands traveled down to the hem of his winter sweater, fingers curling around the fabric as you tugged it upwards, needing to feel more of him, needing to touch the skin beneath. Azriel didn’t hesitate; he broke the kiss just long enough to yank it over his head, discarding it to the side before his mouth was on yours again, more demanding, more fervent.

You let your hands explore the expanse of his chest, feeling the lines of hard muscle, the cool touch of his skin a contrast to the searing heat between you. Every caress, every brush of his lips, was fueled by the unspoken tension that had been simmering inside of you for so long. Though the thought of this wasn’t on your radar an hour ago, it felt as though this moment had been inevitable, the collision of anger and passion combusting into something neither of you could resist.

Azriel’s hands slid beneath your shirt, his touch sending shivers down your spine as he lifted the fabric, fingers trailing over your skin, up to your waist, his touch tender yet possessive. With a swift motion, he pulled your shirt over your head and then his lips were on your neck trailing heated kisses down to your collarbone.

“Is this what you wanted?” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and heavy, every word laced with the same intensity that had sparked this fire between you. “Is this what you were trying to find with those miserable fucks?” He nipped at your shoulder, his teeth grazing the delicate skin before soothing it with a kiss.

You could only nod, words failing you as the need in your body overpowered everything else. You wanted this — wanted him — and there was no space for hesitation. Your hands gripped his shoulders tighter as he pressed you more firmly against the wall, his hips grinding against yours in a way that made you gasp again.

Azriel’s eyes met yours, dark and filled with a mixture of desire and something more — something deeper. For a brief moment, everything paused, the air thick with unspoken emotions that hung between you. Then, as if some unspoken agreement had been reached, his lips found yours again, and all the pent-up tension spilled over. He pressed his hands firmly against your hips, his grip possessive as he lifted you effortlessly from the floor. With a deliberate stride, he carried you towards the guest bedroom he was staying in, his lips meeting yours once again. His lips burned against yours as he carried you down the hall, his pace steady but urgent. The guest bedroom door swung open with a firm push, and he set you down gently on the edge of the bed. The room, dimly lit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp, seemed to pulse with the intensity of the moment.

He loomed over you, his hands still gripping your hips, his breaths deep as he took in the sight of you sprawled before him. His gaze roamed hungrily over your body, a smoldering look in his eyes that made your pulse quicken. His fingers traced the curve of your waist as he leaned in to press open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone and down to the swell of your breasts. He reached beneath you, his fingers finding the clasp of your bra. You arched your back, offering him better access. With a skilled movement, he undid the clasp and slid the garment off your shoulders. His gaze lingered on your exposed skin, filled with an intense, appreciative heat.

His hands roamed eagerly, exploring every inch of your exposed skin. He paused momentarily to meet your eyes, the burning desire in his gaze mirrored your own. “Tell me what you want,” he rasped, his breath hot against your ear. “Tell me how to make you feel everything you need.”

You pulled him down for another searing kiss, your fingers threading through his hair as you whispered against his lips, “Just touch me, Azriel.”

His response was immediate. He moved with a practiced grace, undressing you with urgency. Azriel took a moment to appreciate the view, his gaze dark and intense with a mixture of hunger and reverence. He shifted position, his hands exploring the newly exposed expanse of your skin. His lips followed, trailing fiery kisses down your torso, savoring every inch of you. He took his time, lingering over the most sensitive spots, teasing and testing to see what made you shiver and gasp.

He knelt between your legs, his breath warm against your inner thighs as he leaned in to kiss the sensitive skin. His tongue flicked out, teasing and exploring with a skill that made you writhe beneath him. The sensation was overwhelming, each stroke and flick sending waves of pleasure through you. His hands were steady and reassuring as he guided you through the rising tide of your desire.

The room was filled with the sounds of your shared desire — the soft rustle of sheets, the breathy gasps of pleasure, and the occasional low groan of satisfaction. Azriel’s touch was relentless and precise, each movement meant to drive you closer to the edge.

When he finally positioned himself above you, there was a moment of intense eye contact, his gaze fierce and protective, as if etching every detail of your expression into his mind.

As you reached for him, your fingers tracing the torso you’d pleasured yourself to the thought of countless times, Azriel gently took your hand in his. His voice was low and firm, filled with a mixture of resolve and tenderness. “Not tonight,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “Tonight, I want to take care of you. We can worry about everything else another time.”

With that, he shifted his focus entirely to you, his hands and lips working in concert to bring you to the brink of pleasure. His body melded with yours, the sensation overwhelming, and you gasped at the sudden fullness, every inch of him filling you in a way that was electrifying and profoundly intimate. Azriel’s movements were rhythmic and purposeful, each thrust making your breath hitch.

“Azriel,” you breathed, your voice trembling with need. “I’ve wanted you so badly.”

His gaze softened, his hands tightening their grip on your hips. “I’m here,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

You could feel the tension coiling tighter inside you, each thrust driving you further into a state of heightened arousal. Azriel’s movements were perfectly curated to push you closer and closer to the edge. His hands and lips explored your body with a dedication that made your pulse race, his touch alternating between gentle caresses and firm grips.

His lips traveled from your ear to your neck, his kisses lingering and teasing, each one sending a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through you. You arched against him, your body instinctively seeking more, craving the deep connection he was giving you.

“You feel amazing,” Azriel murmured, his voice low and filled with awe. “Every part of you. I can’t get enough.”

You managed a breathless moan, your fingers gripping the sheets as you writhed beneath him. “Don’t stop,” you gasped. “Please, don’t stop.”

Azriel’s response was a low, rumbling growl of approval. His rhythm never faltered, he was relentless in his devotion, ensuring that every inch of you was covered in his touch, every gasp and shiver met with a responsive stroke. The pressure within you continued to build, the pleasure intensifying with every passing second. Azriel’s hands traced patterns on your skin, his fingers brushing against the most sensitive spots with a skill that made you tremble.

When you were on the verge of losing control, Azriel’s lips found yours once more, his kiss deep and passionate. His movements matched the fervor of the kiss, driving into you with a rhythm that left you gasping and clutching at him. You felt a wave of overwhelming pleasure wash over you. Azriel’s movements became more urgent, his breaths coming in ragged bursts as he drove you to the brink. You clung to him, your body arching and trembling as the climax hit with a powerful intensity.

He followed you into the release, his body shuddering with his own pleasure as he held you close, his grip firm and reassuring. The world seemed to dissolve around you, leaving only the shared warmth and satisfaction of your intimate connection.

Azriel looked down at you with a teasing grin. “You know, we might want to wash up.”

You laughed, catching his playful tone. “Yeah, we probably shouldn’t head back downstairs like this.”

He leaned closer, his grin widening as he scented the air near you. “No, they’ll be able to tell we’ve been at it. You’ve still got some Autumn on you and I’m going to be the one to scrub it off.”

#acotar #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #acotar fanfic #acotar smut #azriel x reader smut #azriel smut #acotar reader insert

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propertyofwicked · 8 months ago

Text

WANTED - LN

based on this request ✧ my inbox is open for requests (or if u just want a chat!) ✧

warnings - smut! MDNI!! jealous!lando, fingering + oral (fem receiving), possessive!! unprotected (stay safe yall), spitting, light slapping (u have been warned) not proofread

ur girl has finally officially finished first year!! i have never felt so freeee (im ignoring the fact i now have to move out rip) (also osc p2 monaco lets gooooo)

masterlist the playlist

lando had been busy lately, too busy. between races, training, and quadrant, it seemed like he barely had any time to himself, or to spend with y/n. she understood, of course, she knew how demanding his career was - but understanding didn't make the loneliness any easier to bear.

and even when he was around, it’s like he wasn’t there at all, not for her at least.

everyone was stood around at the end of a quadrant shoot - it had only been filmed at max’s house so the group settled into the living room easily. y/n there to accompany lando since she had little else to do, desperate to spend any time she could with her boyfriend before he flew off to the next race - even if it did mean sleeping in max’s spare room.

lando stood on the opposite side of the room, talking almost exclusively to max, whilst she sat on the sofa, alone.

y/n didn’t think anything of it when will came and sat next to her, showing her a meme on his phone that she laughed at. and she didn’t think anything of it when they continued the friendly conversation. it felt good to be noticed, to have someone ask her how she’d been - maybe she laughed a little too much at a joke that wasn’t funny, maybe it was just the first time anyone had shown her any attention in a while.

across the room, lando watched the interaction with a frown. he saw the way y/n laughed, the way she leaned in a little too close to his friend. he knew he had been neglecting her, but seeing her with someone else made his blood boil. he wasn’t possessive, no, and usually the sight of his girlfriend laughing with their friends didn’t strike any anger in him. but this was different.

“— we can post that next week sometime?” max said, interrupting his thoughts.

“yeah, yeah - sounds good,” lando replied, not really listening, “i’ll be back in a minute, just need to do something,” he added before striding across the room, leaving max stood alone, his face contorting into slight confusion.

“hey," lando said to the two, his voice low, "mind if i steal her for a minute?"

will looked somewhat confused, but nodded. lando reached out, taking y/n wrist before yanking her from the sofa, pulling them into the hallway. the door shut behind them, y/n’s mouth opened, ready to ask him what was so urgent.

"lando, what are you—"

but he didn't let her finish, pushing her against the wall, his hands on either side of her head, caging her in.

"what the hell were you doing?" he demanded, his eyes sharpening with jealousy. he was met with her eyes glaring up at him in defiance.

"i was having a conversation, lando. something i rarely do with you because you're always so busy."

"so your idea of fun is flirting with my friends?" his jaw clenching.

"flirting?" she shot back, shocked, “he was asking me how i was?”

“and that’s why you were two seconds away from giggling and twirling you hair for him, no?” lando continued to argue, anger still bubbling in him as one hand dropped to her hip, gripping tightly.

“ok, i was flirting with him and now, we’re going to run away and live a long and happy life together - is that what you wanna hear?” she continued, shrugging slightly as she sighed at the ridiculousness.

he stared at her for a long moment, his chest heaving. without warning, he crashed his lips onto hers roughly, his possessiveness filled with pent-up frustration and desire he'd been ignoring for weeks. y/n responded instantly, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue swiping her bottom lip, begging for more.

"lan," she breathed out as he broke the kiss, whining slightly as his mouth moved to press kisses down her neck, nipping at the flesh harshly, "there’s people here."

"’don't care," he growled against her skin. "you're mine, and im going to remind you of that."

he kissed her again, his hands roaming over her body, gripping at her hips. she moaned into his mouth, her resistance melting away. she was engulfed in him, the way he touched her, the way he pushed her further into the wall as his hips rolled into hers.

"need you," she breathed when he pulled back for air, his forehead resting against hers.

he nodded, his pupils blown with his own need.

"come on," he told her, taking her hand to guide them up the stairs to max’s spare room.

stumbling through the door, clothes already being discarded, lando pushed her onto the bed, his eyes raking over her body.

"you're so beautiful," he murmured, crawling over her. "and mine. only mine."

"only yours," she whispered, pulling him down to kiss him again.

“gonna need you to be quiet f’me, ok?” he told her as his lips trailed her body, his body sliding down the bed till he was resting on his knees. he pulled her legs closer to him so his face was level with her heat, her hips moved upwards, desperate for anything after weeks of nothing.

“patience, angel,” lando breathed out, moving his finger to toy with her clit slowly. he wrapped an arm around her leg, pulling it over his shoulder as he rests his forearm over her stomach, stopping her wriggling. his finger returns to her folds, slowly he pushing a digit inside her, feeling the stretch around him. his lips joined onto her clit, sucking harshly as he added a second finger, curling them up into her.

“please lan,” she moaned out, unsure of what she was even asking for.

his fingers never faltered, continuing their assault as they hit that spot that had her pushing her hips up, his tongue circling her clit once more before he pulled his face away from her heat. his eyes flittered from looking up at her before moving back to watch as his fingers disappeared inside her. she tightened around him, her breathing heavier as she began to fall apart for him. she was getting fidgety, her moans gaining in volume as his thumb returned to her clit, rubbing deep circles, his other hand still pushing two fingers into her at an alarming rate.

“shush angel,” lando told her, before trailing his spare hand up her body and pushing his thumb into her mouth slowly. her hand moved to grip his arm as her tongue glided along his thumb. as much as he wanted to hear her, as much as he wanted everyone to know who she belonged to, he also wanted her all to himself - no one else deserved to hear her fall apart for him.

his mouth barely had time to return to her clit before her legs were shaking around him, clamping around his head periodically as she came around his fingers.

“good girl,” lando mumbled against her thigh, his fingers slowing inside her as she rode out her high.

“need more lan, please,” y/n begged, pulling at his arm to bring his body back to hover over hers.

“so needy,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her lips, allowing her to taste herself.

“been too long,” she told him, a hand reaching down to tug at his hardened length a few times.

he would’ve felt guilty about neglecting her needs for so long, if it wasn’t for the feeling of her fingers wrapping around him, her thumb circling his tip before spreading pre cum down his cock.

“let me make it up to you,” lando told her, pressing a kiss to her jaw, before taking himself in his hands and running his tip through her slick folds. he pushed into her roughly, finding himself desperate to feel her after so long.

“breathe for me angel,” he told her, pulling out slightly as he felt the way her body tense,, “feel so good.”

his cock pushed into her again, setting a steady pace as he leant back over to kiss her harshly.

“feels good,” she told him, eyes looking into his. his necklace dangled from his neck, the cool metal settling on her skin.

“yeah? ‘my the only person who makes you feel like this?” he asked bitingly.

“you snatched me away before will had the chance to do a better job,” she teased cautiously.

lando pushed himself back, rising to stand at the end of the bed, his cock never leaving her. he pulled her legs again, yanking her roughly to the edge of the bed before pulling one of her legs over his shoulder. her eyes began to glaze over from the new position, his length thrusting into her tightening walls at a relentless pace. however, a sharp sting on her cheek brought her back to reality, sending shots of pleasure to her core whilst tears pricked her eyes. lando’s had slapped at her face lightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to tell her that she had pissed him off a little too much.

“you wanna say that shit again?” he grunted, slowing his pace to roll his hips into hers tauntingly.

she genuinely considered it for a moment, contemplating how possessive he could get if she teased him further, but his fingers dipped into her cheek, holding her jaw tight.

she shook her head quickly as if to say no, refraining from flinching as his hand moved, but this time it fell gently, stroking her cheek where it stung.

“good answer,” lando added, returning to a regular pace, “you gonna behave now?”

“i wi- will,” she choked out, nodding despite his grip on her face, “i promise.”

satisfied with her answer, his fingers moved to toy with her clit. using the leg over his shoulder and her other leg wrapped around his waist as an anchor, her hips rose from the bed, moving in circular motions to match the pattern his fingers drew on her heat. lando’s free hand gripped at her calf, pulling her closer to him, deepening his thrusts. the tip of his cock pressing desperately into her as she whimpered and moaned his name.

lando leaned forward to kiss her, letting her leg over his shoulder drop to his waist so that she wasn’t folded literally in half. y/n wrapped around him tightly, pulling him in to kiss her deeper, tongues clashing as his thrusts faltered slightly. he balanced on his arm as his head dropped from her lips, his teeth nipping at the skin of her breast before his lips wrapped around her nipple, his free hand moved to grip tightly onto her other breast, fingers toying with her.

y/n whimpered, trying to keep quiet as she remembered how many people were also in the house. lando smirked to himself, loving the way she sounded, the way her heat gripped around his length as he moved inside her. his teeth pulled at the skin of her breast again, the flesh moving with him as he pulled away before dropping, bouncing slightly as it landed.

“so pathetic,” he grunted, feeling his high coming rapidly as he looked at her head thrown back. her mouth hung open, heavy breaths escaping, and her nails gripped tightly into the skin of his bicep. his other hand moved to settle lightly on her neck, thumb and index finger holding her jaw open for him. lando’s face hovered above hers, their eyes locking as a trail of spit fell from his mouth, landing on her tongue. he watched as she swallowed it, before re-joining their lips in a messy kiss.

“look at you, taking me so well,” he cooed, “’m so stupid for neglecting you,” he added, his tone softening from his previous frustration.

“not stupid,” she reassured, kissing his jaw.

“i love you,” he told her softly, despite his hips quickening in their movement, feeling the way her legs tightened as she got closer to her climax. his lips returned to her neck, sucking softly at the flesh, blood running cold as his ears picked up on the way she panted out his name.

“lan, baby, im go-”

“i know,” he told her, eyes squeezing shut, “let go baby, i got you.”

she came hard and fast around him, the tightening of her walls bringing him to his own climax.

“can i come inside?” he asked her, almost begging. she nodded rapidly, unable to talk as her mind became fuzzy.

“fuck,” he grunted, hips snapping into hers desperately before shooting ropes of warm cum into her, filling her completely, “all mine,” he said, more to himself than her.

lando pulled out slowly, careful of the way her eyes screwed up from the sting before rolling to lay next to her, chests heaving in unison. he turned his head to face her, noting the bruises forming on her neck and her chest, till his eyes settled on the red flush of her cheek.

“i didn’t hurt you did i?” he asked softly, hand reaching up to stroke at the redness.

“not really, it was hot,” she said with a shrug, smirking as she turned her head to face him.

“noted,” lando replied, laughing lightly.

“love it when you get possessive,” y/n added, cautious with her next statement, “makes me feel wanted.”

“im sorry i ever made you feel unwanted, angel. i never meant to,” he sighed, pulling her body close to his so that her head rested on his bare chest, “ill do better i promise.”

“i know you will, lan - i just wish i didn’t have to ask to be wanted, you know?” she told him, her fingers stroking lightly at his shoulder.

“you are wanted, y/n,” he repeated fiercely, “you are everything to me. i think i just got too comfortable with how things were, i jus- it took the thought of you leaving, the thought of you with someone else to bring me back to reality.”

“i am yours lando, forever,” she assured him, holding out her pinky to join his, “i promise. besides, if you keep fucking me like that i don’t think i could ever leave,” she joked.

“yeah?”

“but if you keep spitting in my mouth i may go completely feral, you won’t be able to get rid of me,” she said, smirking up at him, “do that again and you’re actually having my children.”

“that’s…not possible?” he questioned, smiling at her.

“so you don’t love me? is what you’re saying?” she asked, pushing herself up to look in dead in the eyes, her mouth straining to stay clamped shut in fear of laughing.

“i fear for what i have started,” lando laughed, pulling her back tightly into his chest.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #formula 1 #mclaren f1 #mclaren #lando norris fluff #propertyofwicked

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amirasainz · 27 days ago

Note

Can you do a Lando Norris x Sister where she gets hate? Comfort please

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 🧡

Behind the screen

Yn scrolled through her phone, her fingers trembling slightly. It was supposed to be a fun way to pass time—a quick look at social media to see what people were saying about the latest race. Instead, her screen was filled with comments that stung more than she wanted to admit.

"Why does Yn look so different? Has she even been eating?"

"It’s like she’s stopped trying altogether. At least put some effort into your looks if you’re going to show up on TV."

"Does she even care about her brother? She’s never at his races anymore."

Her throat tightened as she read each comment, their words echoing in her mind. The weight she’d lost had been unintentional—stress, school, and the whirlwind of her life had taken a toll. And her absence at Lando’s races wasn’t because she didn’t care. She loved her brother more than anything, but sometimes being in the spotlight, even indirectly, was too much.

She felt a tear slip down her cheek as she turned off her phone and tossed it onto the bed. Yn curled up, hugging a pillow close to her chest, wishing she could shrink into nothingness.

That’s when the door to her room creaked open.

“Yn?” Lando’s voice was soft but concerned. He stepped inside, his usual cheeky grin replaced by a furrowed brow. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she mumbled, wiping her face quickly and sitting up. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t buy it. Lando walked over, sat on the edge of her bed, and looked at her intently. “You’re crying. Don’t say it’s nothing. What happened?”

Yn hesitated, but the lump in her throat grew too big to swallow. “It’s just… people online. They’re saying horrible things about me. About my weight, how I look, how I don’t go to your races enough. It’s stupid, I know, but it just—it hurts.”

Lando’s face darkened. “They said what?”

She shrugged, trying to play it off, but her trembling hands gave her away. “It’s not a big deal. People say stuff all the time—”

“No, Yn. That’s not okay.” His tone was sharp, protective. “What the hell is wrong with people?”

“It’s fine, really,” she repeated weakly. “I just need to toughen up.”

“Stop that.” Lando moved closer, taking her hands in his. “You don’t have to ‘toughen up.’ This is messed up, and you shouldn’t have to deal with it. You’re my sister, Yn. No one gets to talk about you like that.”

Yn sniffled, feeling the warmth of his hands around hers. “I just… I hate that they think I don’t care about you. I do, Lando. I just—”

“I know you do,” he interrupted, his voice softening. “You’ve always been my biggest supporter, whether you’re at the track or not. And anyone who thinks otherwise doesn’t know anything.”

She looked down, her tears threatening to spill again. “But they’re right about how I look. I’ve lost weight, and I haven’t been dressing up or putting in effort, and—”

“Yn,” Lando said firmly, cutting her off. “You’re beautiful, okay? Always have been, always will be. And anyone who says otherwise can shove it.”

She let out a shaky laugh, despite herself. “You can’t say that to your fans.”

“Watch me.” Lando’s jaw clenched, and he stood up, pacing the room. “I’m not letting this slide. They think they can say whatever they want because they’re behind a screen. But they don’t get to hurt you. Ever.”

Yn watched him, a mix of gratitude and guilt swirling in her chest. “You don’t have to do anything, Lando. It’ll just blow over.”

“No,” he said firmly, grabbing his phone. “I’m putting an end to this now.”

“Lando—”

He raised a hand to stop her. “I mean it, Yn. This isn’t just about me. If they’re saying this stuff to you, they’ll do it to someone else. And I’m not going to sit back and let it happen.”

Before she could argue further, Lando opened his social media app. She could see the determination in his eyes as he began typing.

----------------------‐---------------------------

A few minutes later, his post was live.

*“I’ve seen the disgusting comments directed at my sister, and I’m absolutely done with it. Yn is one of the most important people in my life, and the fact that anyone thinks it’s okay to tear her down is beyond unacceptable. She doesn’t deserve this, and neither does anyone else.

If this is what being a fan of mine looks like, I’d rather not have fans at all. I won’t be using social media anymore if this continues. Treat people with kindness, or don’t speak at all.”*

---------------------------------‐--------------------

Lando set his phone down and turned back to Yn. “Done. If they want to act like idiots, they can do it without me.”

Yn’s eyes widened. “You didn’t have to do that. You love social media.”

“Not more than I love you,” he said simply, sitting back down beside her. “Yn, you’re my little sister. My job is to protect you. And if that means stepping away from social media or calling out people who think they can mess with you, I’ll do it a thousand times over.”

She leaned into his shoulder, feeling a wave of relief and love wash over her. “Thanks, Lando. You didn’t have to, but… it means a lot.”

“You’re stuck with me,” he said with a small smile, wrapping an arm around her. “And I’ll always have your back. No matter what.”

For the first time that day, Yn felt a little lighter. The hateful comments still lingered in the back of her mind, but Lando’s unwavering support reminded her that she wasn’t alone.

And with an overprotective brother like him, she knew she never would be.

#formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #xoxo babygirl 💋#lando norris x y/n #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x sister!reader #lando norris x norris!reader #norris!reader #f1 x reader #online hate

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lulunothulu · 5 months ago

Text

“So you think I’m hot?”

Tyler Owens x Reader

Summary: Tyler has gotten on your last nerve and you finally snap, leading to an ego boost on his end.

Contents: light teasing, cockiness, maybe swearing, fluff

A/N: for the sake of this fic, just pretend Kate and Tyler didn’t meet and it was you instead

“So when are you gonna let me take you out on a chase?” Tyler asks from his truck bed. “You know, actually have some fun instead of being a stick in the mud over there?”

You were on your way to your base camp a few cars down, Kate and Javi were waiting for you to give them your report for their data sequencing. You push a loose strand of hair behind your ear before smiling sweetly.

“How about when you acknowledge that what you do is reckless and irresponsible?”

Tyler smiles softly before saying, “Well if I did that, then you’d never join us on a chase.”

You only squint out a smile before rolling your eyes and walking toward where Kate and Javi wait.

“What was that all about?” Kate asks, a knowing smile on her lips.

“Tyler being Tyler,” you say. To Javi, you ask, “So all you guys needed was the report right? I kinda wanna catch some sleep for tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Javi says. “I think we’re all set here. I’m just gonna put it into the computer and then call it a night.”

“Alright, sounds good. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

You begin the walk back toward your hotel room, sighing when you realize you have to pass by Tyler again.

Though you find him aggravating, you can’t help but admire his audacity and fearlessness. The man knows he’s hot shit and uses it to his advantage, playing it off as a high ego.

“Hey, Y/N!” You hear Tyler call out again.

You stop in your tracks and slowly face him, your face schooled in your famous resting bitch face.

“What?” You respond.

“I just wanted to say I think you should smile more,” he tells you, a smirk slowly growing on his lips. “Why don’t you smile for me?”

Your blood was boiling, why the fuck would he ask you that? Why would he say that? And why did your heart flutter when he smiled at you like that?

“Why should I?” You spit.

“I don’t think she likes it when you say that, Ty,” Boone says, popping up from the spot he was squatting at behind the truck.

“C’mon, she knows I think she’s a good looking girl,” Tyler teases, eyes still on you. “I’ve been asking her out for weeks.”

“The look on her face looks like she might tear your head off,” Boone points out.

“Nah, she won’t do that.” Tyler smiles down at you before jumping off the truck and taking a few steps toward you. “She’d hate it if I wasn’t there to keep her on her toes. Besides, look at those eyes, they’re screaming to smile for me.”

You had had enough. It’d been weeks of shameless flirting and teasing from him. Not to mention the disrespect to your career, insinuating that you had a stick up your ass and didn’t know how to have fun.

You were lots of fun. Just ask Kate and Javi.

“What’s your deal with me, Owens?” You start. “Is there something we need to work out? Because from the moment you laid eyes on me, it feels like you’ve been taking the absolute piss out of me. Constantly teasing me and the way I do my job.”

“Wait, I’m not—”

“Just shut the hell up!” You exclaim. “I’m so sick and tired of your constant teasing and disrespectful comments. And if I wanted to smile for you, I would. Just because we all know you’re hot as shit, doesn’t mean I have to comply to everything you want.”

Tyler only smiles, chuckling a bit.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” You ask, annoyance and anger leaking out of your ears.

“So you think I’m hot?” Tyler asks.

You only blink, thinking back to what you had just said. You squint, feeling the blush creep up your ears and to your cheeks before walking off and yelling, “Oh fuck off, Tyler.”

A/N: Should I write a part two to this? Maybe she finally falls for him?? 👀

PART TWO IS UP!!!

#fanfic #glen powell #tyler owens x y/n #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens #tyler owens x you #twisters 2024 #twisters

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shima-draws · 2 years ago

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Kirito: Hey welcome back. What took you?

Eugeo: Well uh.

Eugeo: I think

Eugeo: I just got proposed to?

Kirito: Oh neat good for you

Kirito:

Kirito: Wait, WHAT,

#Kirito: But. But babe 🥺#Eugeo: Oh my god don’t look at me like that. You KNOW I didn’t say yes #Kirito: What the FUCK everyone on CAMPUS knows your ass belongs to me who the hell went #Kirito: ‘Eugeo-sama…I like you 😳 Let’s get married!! 🥺’#Eugeo: Okay first of all it didn’t happen like that #Eugeo: And secondly you make fun but. It was Tiese so #Kirito: TIESE???#Kirito: DEADASS??#Eugeo: I know right? You’d THINK spending so much time with us she’d. You know #Eugeo: Pick up on the fact that we’re super gay for each other?#Kirito: Listen Ronie asked me on day ONE ‘Are you and Eugeo-senpai dating?’#Kirito: How did SHE pick up on it and not Tiese. Asking real questions here #Eugeo: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#Kirito: Idk maybe your vibes weren’t gay enough #Eugeo: Like your bisexual vibes?#Kirito: My bi vibes are off the CHARTS okay. I am RADIATING with bisexual energy at all times.#Kirito: Anyway I need to have some words with your page. And make it VERY clear that you are MY boyfriend #Eugeo: Yeah yeah okay.#Kirito: And tell her that if you’re marrying ANYBODY it’s going to be me #Eugeo: Yeah yeah I get it—wait what #Kirito: What #JFNSNFMSMFMS #SAO #Yujikiri #Kirito #Sword Art Online #Eugeo #Sorry I’ll shut up now ;)#Shima speaks

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littlelamy · 2 months ago

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omggg more trophy wife reader and dad rafe!!!!!

hope you like it! ⭐️As you sipped your morning coffee in the sunlit kitchen, you felt Rafe’s arms slip around your waist. You leaned into his embrace, a warm smile already forming as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth against your ear, “you’ve been working so damn hard at looking this good. I think it’s time I gave my gorgeous wife a little break.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, raising a brow in playful suspicion. “A break?”

He nodded, that familiar spark lighting up his eyes. “Yeah, baby. Just you and me, on a little escape. Thought we could take the jet and get the hell out of here for the weekend. Maybe somewhere with beaches, crystal-clear water… Bora Bora sound good?”

Your heart skipped a beat. A spontaneous trip to Bora Bora with your loving, impossibly charming husband? Rafe had a knack for sweeping you off your feet just when you needed it most.

“What about the kids?” you asked, though the excitement was already building.

“Sarah said she’d take care of them for us,” he replied with a grin. “And, well, John B too. But don’t worry—Sarah’s got it handled.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, knowing Sarah’s responsible nature meant you could leave without a worry in the world, even if John B tagged along.

Within hours, you were on the jet, Rafe sitting close enough to reach for your hand whenever he wanted, his gaze lingering on you like you were the only thing that mattered. The flight was long, but with Rafe, every second felt exciting, like the anticipation was part of the fun. When you finally landed in Bora Bora, the warm, tropical breeze welcomed you, along with Rafe’s arm slung around your waist.

After checking into a luxurious overwater bungalow with panoramic views of turquoise water and Mount Otemanu in the distance, Rafe guided you to the finest boutiques in Vaitape, his arm resting possessively around your waist as he led you through each store, his attention unwavering. He watched you try on outfits, his gaze lingering just a little too long, his words low and flirtatious.

“That dress,” he said, leaning close, his fingers brushing your arm as you showed him the deep, fitted silk gown, “fits you like it was fucking made for you. But then again, everything looks incredible on you.” He tilted his head, a playful smirk forming. “Or off you. Either way, it’s perfect.”

You felt your cheeks warm as you turned back to the mirror, pretending to study the dress while you caught him watching you through the reflection, admiration practically radiating from him.

The afternoon continued with him indulging your every whim. Shoes, dresses, jewelry—Rafe insisted on all of it. As you browsed, he found excuses to pull you close, whispering little compliments, his voice laced with that confident charm that never failed to make you feel like the only woman in the world.

Later, as the day faded into a golden evening, Rafe arranged for a private dinner with a view over the lagoon, where the soft waves lapped beneath you and the sky turned pink and orange above. You sat across from him, candles flickering softly between you, casting warm light across his face.

“I love seeing you like this,” he said, leaning forward, his eyes tracing over your features. “Spoiled, relaxed. You fucking deserve it, you know.”

You smirked, raising a brow. “You’re spoiling me, Rafe. What did I ever do to deserve a husband who takes me halfway across the world just to treat me?”

He chuckled, his hand reaching across the table to catch yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles in a slow, reassuring rhythm. “Just by being you, sweetheart. You’re stunning, charming, and somehow, all mine. I’m the lucky bastard.”

As the night went on, Rafe didn’t let a moment go by without reminding you how much he adored you. His flirting was relentless, with just enough edge to keep you smiling and blushing.

By the time you returned to your bungalow, the soft sound of water below and a starlit sky above, you felt completely cherished and at ease, like there was no place you’d rather be. And as Rafe pulled you close, murmuring one last promise to keep making days like this for you, you knew you’d never doubt just how damn much this man adored you.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @dinakisser @rafecameroninterlude @sstargirln

#rafe obx #rafe cameron #rafe imagine #outerbanks rafe #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe outer banks #rafe fic #rafe #rafe cameron x reader #dad!rafe cameron #dad!rafe au #dad!rafe x trophywife #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron blurb

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jezebelblues · 1 month ago

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cinnamon | h.s | 2

pt 1, pt 2 (completed)

summary: in which two broke college students ignore the fact that they’re falling for each other. (just because you ignore it, doesn’t make it any less real.)

cw: smut18+ (piv) …dare i say…subrry (if u squint), drug dealing/usage, angst, violence, blood (only a lil), college!harry, fem!reader

word count: approx 16.4k

| i needed some softrry i’m not sorry. BUT i am sorry for being a lil late with this final part!! i took a hot minute to edit / drive home from work. all that fun stuff. anyway!! hope u liked it :^)

masterlist

the shift between them was subtle at first.

YN didn’t say anything the next time they crossed paths in the hallway. she didn’t make eye contact, didn’t give him her usual raised eyebrow or sharp comment. she just walked past, her bag slung over her shoulder, her face blank like he wasn’t even there.

it wasn’t dramatic. it wasn’t loud. but it was deliberate. empty.

harry noticed it more than he wanted to.

their usual routine—the unspoken agreement to walk home together after their evening classes—just stopped. she didn’t linger by the exit anymore, didn’t slow her steps like she was waiting for him to catch up.

the first time it happened, he told himself she’d just left early. the second time, he figured she’d had something to do. by the third, it was clear; she wasn’t waiting for him.

and yet, he found himself hesitating by the doors anyway, glancing toward the biology lab like an idiot, only to leave alone, his steps echoing too loudly in the quiet.

at home, it was worse.

the silence between their apartments felt heavier now. he used to hear her faint laugh through the thin walls, the clink of a coffee cup on her counter, the muffled hum of her shitty netflix shows. now it was quiet, like she’d taken all the noise with her and left him sitting in it.

harry didn’t know why it bothered him so much. this was what he wanted, wasn’t it? to keep things simple. clean. to keep people out.

but then he’d remember the look on her face when he said it—it’s not like we’re friends—and something sharp twisted in his chest.

and all he had to sit with was his own guilt and regret.

the distance wasn’t one-sided.

YN hated how much it stung. she told herself she didn’t care, that she was too busy with school and work to think about harry, but that was bullshit, and she knew it.

she felt his absence in the small things—the sound of his voice beside her on those walks home, the way he’d lean against the wall outside their building, cigarette dangling from his fingers like he had nowhere better to be.

she told herself he didn’t deserve her attention after what he said. that he’d made it clear where they stood.

but sometimes, when she caught a glimpse of him—his curls hidden under a backwards cap, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie—she couldn’t help but wonder what the hell he was carrying. and why he seemed so determined to carry it alone.

it wasn’t until thursday evening, two weeks since they last walked home together, that their avoidance finally broke.

harry was heading back from class, his backpack slung low, his rings clicking softly against the railing as he climbed the stairs, nails painted a cherry red that already started to chip.

as he reached their floor, the door to YN’s apartment opened, and she stepped out. her hair was tied back, her sweatshirt hanging loose over her frame, a pair of worn sneakers on her feet.

they froze when they saw each other, the air between them thick and awkward.

he glanced at her, then at the stairs, his jaw clenching—not in anger, not in hate, but in quiet hope. “hey.”

she didn’t answer. she just stared at him for a moment, her hand tightening on the strap of her bag. finally, she nodded once, curt and distant. “harry.”

then she walked past him, her steps quick, her head high.

he stood there for a moment, staring after her, his fists clenching at his sides. he wanted to say something, anything, to pull her back. but the words caught in his throat, weighed down by the same wall he’d spent years building.

so he didn’t. he just turned toward his door, the silence swallowing him whole as the door clicked shut behind him.

the house wasn't packed, but it was loud. laughter and bass thumped through the walls, voices spilling out onto the porch where clusters of people leaned against the railing, cigarettes glowing faintly in the dark.

YN hadn't planned on coming.

but her roommate had begged, tugging on her arm like a child demanding candy at a grocery store. "come on," she'd sigh. "it'll be fun. you don't even have to stay that long. besides, you think jays cute, right?"

and YN, with no pressing deadlines and no excuse not to, had reluctantly agreed.

harry didn't want to be here either.

the house hummed with energy—the kind of energy that clung to saturday nights in college. voices blended with the low pulse of bass—heavy hip hop, the faint static of a projector flickering on the far wall casting neon splashes of color across the crowded living room. laughter spilled out from the porch, accompanied by the faint, acrid tang of weed smoke drifting in through an open window.

he slipped inside unnoticed, his nyu hoodie pulled low over his face, his hand brushing the pocket where an empty altoid tin sat snug against his leg.

the thing about acid drops was they were tiny. clean. no plastic bags crinkling to give him away. no smell to catch on clothes. just a few paper tabs, tucked neatly into a tin that could easily pass for mints.

this one wasn’t supposed to take long, anyway. pauli had texted earlier, casual as ever.

bring me four. party downstairs but i’ll be at the same spot.

simple.

harry liked pauli well enough, even if he’d never say it out loud. he was easy to deal with—no drama, no bullshit, and he tipped. if things weren’t so complicated, maybe they’d even get along.

he moved through the thrumming crowd, his eyes scanning the room automatically, checking for the usual signs of trouble.

that’s when he saw her.

YN was tucked into a corner of the living room, half-hidden behind a group of people, her back leaning lightly against the wall. the warm glow of fairy lights strung across the ceiling flickered over her, mixing with the neon hues spilling out from the projector somewhere behind her.

it made her look like art—like she didn’t belong here, needing to be some vibrant watercolor strung high up in a gallery.

she had a red solo cup in hand, her lips curving into the faintest smile as she listened to something the guy next to her was saying. harry didn’t recognize him, not in the dim light, but it didn’t matter. what mattered was how close he stood to her, how his arm brushed hers whenever he moved, how he leaned in like he was trying to fill the space between them.

harry’s eyes drifted lower, tracing the line of her figure almost involuntarily. her shirt clung in all the right places, the loose wrinkles in the fabric shifting faintly when she’d move around. her black jeans, straight-legged with a single slit on the right knee, revealed a faint bruise just above her kneecap.

his eyes narrowed. the thought came unbidden, like bile rising in his throat—a thought he had no right to conjure, no right to mull over.

was it from him?

the thought pushed itself to the front of his mind, uninvited, insistent.

did she get on her knees for him?

he clenched his teeth, ripping his gaze away before it could wander further, before his thoughts could twist into something darker, uglier.

he had no right.

his hand brushed the strap of his backpack, grounding himself as he trudged up the stairs. the second floor was quieter, though the music’s thrum still vibrated the floor beneath his feet.

at the end of the hall, pauli’s door was already cracked open, a faint glow spilling out—a mix of blues and purples that pulsed softly, courtesy of the lava lamp perched on the nightstand.

he stepped inside, letting the door creak wider as he entered.

he looked up from his spot on the bed, his grin as effortless as ever, the glow from the lava lamp catching on his teeth. “harry. what’s up, man?”

he nodded toward him before he pulled the altoid tin from his pocket, flipping it open and sliding four tabs onto the corner of the nightstand. “same price.”

pauli sat up, grabbing his wallet from the bed. “you know me. always good for it.”

he handed over the cash—a neat stack of bills folded lengthwise—and harry pocketed it without a word. “tipped you fifteenthis time.” pauli added with a wink, leaning back onto his elbows.

harry smiled faintly, “‘preciate it.”

he grinned, the blues and purples of the room painting his face like some kind of hipster saint. “likewise, man. let me know if you ever wanna hang. game a little, whatever. always a spot for you here.”

he nodded once, already moving toward the door. “noted, thanks.” (he didn’t stay long enough to hear a response.)

the bass hit harder as he made his way back downstairs, his hand ghosting along the banister.

as his foot touched the last step, marie was already there.

pretty brunette, long legs, and a perpetual smirk that always seemed to say you can’t resist me. she never stopped trying to score free weed from him, always angling her body just close enough to make it seem like an invitation.

“hey, haz,” she drawled, stepping into his path.

he glanced at her, half a second’s worth, his eyes scanning the room as he muttered, “don’t have anything on me right now, marie.”

she pouted faintly, her head tilting just enough to catch the light. “come on. just this once?”

harry stepped past her without a second glance, his tone sharp but dismissive. “not now.” he avoided brushing her shoulder, his steps measured as he maneuvered past her.

the main room was a mess.

a circle of people had formed, shouting over each other as someone recorded the chaos with their phone flashlight. harry didn’t care what was going on—he just didn’t want to get stuck in it.

he b-lined for the kitchen instead, slowing his steps when he caught the low hum of voices just beneath the music.

he wasn’t planning to stop, wasn’t planning to get involved in whatever was going on in there. but then he caught the tone—a mix of light coercion and arrogance, the kind of smug insistence that made his stomach churn.

“come on,” the guy said, his voice smooth, confident. “just one pill, YN. you’ll feel amazing, i swear.”

harry’s stood still, his grip on the strap of his backpack tightening.

“jay…” her voice was quieter, hesitant.

“it’s no big deal,” he pressed, his tone almost lazy. “just let loose. it’s saturday, for fuck’s sake. live a little.”

it was jay. of course, it was jay.

he knew that voice anywhere—smug and dripping with entitlement, like the world owed him whatever he wanted.

“i don’t know,” she sighed, her voice soft, her uncertainty cutting through the noise like static.

harry’s chest tightened, a knot forming just beneath his ribcage. he knew he didn’t have a right to feel anything about this. he’d said it himself—they weren’t friends, even if that was a lie. YN could make her own choices, could hang out with whoever she wanted, could take whatever jay was trying to shove into her hand.

but the knot didn’t go away.

it tightened further when he heard her sigh, gentle and resigned, like she was starting to give in.

that sound sent something sharp slicing through him. before he even realized he’d moved, harry stepped into the kitchen.

YN was leaning against the counter, her red solo cup in one hand, jay towering over her, his arm braced against the counter beside her. his other hand held a small pill—molly, probably—his fingers hovering just inches from her lips.

he looked over his shoulder, startled by the sudden presence. but before he could say a word, harry was on him. he grabbed jay by the bicep, yanking him away from YN with enough force to make him stumble.

“what the—”

his words were cut off by harry’s fist colliding with his face. the sound of bone crunching echoed through the kitchen, sharp and final.

he fell back, clutching his nose as blood began to drip onto his shirt. “what the fuck, man?” he shouted, his voice muffled and nasally.

his knuckles throbbed from the impact, the skin already split and stinging, but he didn’t flinch. his breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling in sharp bursts as he stood there, his fists still clenched at his sides.

he didn’t look at jay.

he looked at YN.

her breath hitched audibly, her chest rising sharply as her lips parted in shock. but she didn’t say anything.

she just bandaged that hand.

she didn’t even glance at jay—not once. her wide eyes were locked on harry, and in that moment, the noise of the party faded to nothing.

his gaze softened, the adrenaline in his chest burning into something heavier as his eyes traveled down.

the bruise on her knee caught his attention again, stark against her skin just above the ripped fabric of her jeans. his jaw tightened, his features shifting slightly—something flickering across his face that she couldn’t quite name.

and then he looked up, his eyes meeting hers again, and the weight of whatever had passed between them felt unbearable.

without a word, he turned and walked out, his shoulders tense, his fists still aching from the punch. he didn’t look back, but YN’s eyes followed him, her chest still tight, her cup clutched tightly in her trembling hand.

jay muttered something—another fucking psycho—but she barely registered it.

the only thing she could think about was the look in harry’s eyes before he left.

three days had passed since the party, and the library was quieter than usual.

a few scattered groups occupied the tables near the entrance, laptops open, notes spread in chaotic displays of end-semester panic. YN moved past them, heading toward her usual spot near the back, a corner table she’d claimed as her own months ago.

but as she turned the corner, she paused. harry was there.

he was slouched in a chair at one of the smaller tables, his head resting in his hand, his elbow propped on the desk. his other hand hovered over a textbook, pen in hand, though he wasn’t writing anything.

he looked tired. dark circles smudged under his eyes, his curls an unruly mess that barely held under the backwards cap perched on his head. his sweater was wrinkled, the sleeve pushed up just enough to reveal his forearm, where faint bruises from something she couldn’t place mottled the skin.

she stood there for a moment, debating whether to turn back, but something in the way his shoulders sagged made her pause.

despite herself, she walked over.

“how’s your hand?”

her voice broke the silence between them, startling him slightly. his head lifted, his eyes locking onto hers, his expression caught between surprise and something unreadable.

“huh?” he croaked, blinking at her like he wasn’t sure if she was real.

she nodded toward his right hand, which was still gripping the pen. “your hand,” she repeated. “you messed it up again.”

harry glanced down at it, flexing his fingers slightly like he’d forgotten it had happened. his knuckles were still faintly red, the scabs on his skin threatening to crack.

“s’fine.” he muttered, his voice low, his tone as casual as he could manage.

she raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “doesn’t look fine.”

he huffed a quiet laugh, leaning back in his chair and setting the pen down on the open page of his textbook. “you always this nosy?”

she rolled her eyes, pulling out the chair across from him and sitting down without waiting for an invitation. “you always this defensive?”

he smirked faintly, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “only when people ask stupid questions.”

“it wasn’t a stupid question,” she shot back, leaning forward slightly. “you punched a guy in the face hard enough to put him on the ground. you’re lucky you didn’t break anything.”

he shrugged, glancing at his hand again. “felt worth it at the time.”

YN’s expression shifted, her brow furrowing slightly as she studied him. “why’d you do it?”

he looked up at her then, his smirk fading, replaced by something sharper, more guarded. “thought he deserved it.”

“that’s not an answer.”

he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at her. “what do you want me to say, YN?” he asked, his voice quiet but laced with tension. “that i hated the way he talked to you? the way he tried to push you into something you didn’t want? or that it pissed me off seeing him so close to you, like he had the fucking right?”

her breath caught, her fingers curling against the edge of the table.

he let out a sharp exhale, fidgeting with the hem of his sweater as he slouched into his seat again, his gaze dropping to the textbook in front of him. “doesn’t matter. s’done.”

“it does matter.” she whispered, a furrow forming on her forehead from concern.

harry didn’t look at her, but his jaw tightened, the muscles in his neck flexing faintly.

“you don’t owe me anything, harry,” she continued, her tone careful but firm. “but don’t act like what you did wasn’t about me. because we both know it was.”

he finally met her eyes, his expression guarded but not cold. “so what if it was?”

she stared at him for a moment, her chest tight, the words stuck in her throat. finally, she sighed, leaning back in her chair.

but harry spoke first, his eyebrows knit together. “did you sleep with him?”

her eyes darted between his, her lips pressed into a tight line, her shoulders faltering. it caught her off guard, obviously—she could’ve torn into him, yell about how he had absolutely no right to ask her that, but the way his eyes looked slightly glassed over underneath the fluorescent lights made her keep composure. “no, harry.”

he bit the inside of his cheek, nodding with a frown.

finally, she stood, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. “take care of your hand, okay?”

the walk home had always been theirs. a quiet that belonged to them.

not awkward, but comfortable, the kind of quiet that felt earned. the rhythm of their footsteps, the hum of the city around them—it was just enough. for weeks, though, that rhythm had been off, broken by the absence of something harry didn’t want to admit he missed.

but now, it was back.

it started on a tuesday.

YN walked out of her bio lab, distracted as she finished sending a text. she didn’t notice him at first, leaning against the wall just outside the lecture hall, his cap pulled low, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie.

when she did notice, she froze for half a second, her breath catching. he wasn’t looking directly at her, but he wasn’t not looking, either.

she could’ve walked past him. maybe a week ago, she would have.

but instead, she shifted her bag higher on her shoulder and walked toward him, her steps slow, deliberate. “you’re still here?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

harry shrugged, pushing off the wall and falling into step beside her. “just needed some air.”

YN raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. “right. sure you did.”

he smirked faintly, his gaze fixed straight ahead.

they didn’t talk much on the walk back to the apartment, but it didn’t feel heavy, not like the silence that had filled the space between them for weeks.

the november air sharpened the sound of their footsteps, campus quieter than usual around them. she shoved her hands into her jacket pockets, glancing at harry from the corner of her eye. he walked with his usual loose stride, his cap casting a shadow over his face, but there was something less guarded about the way his shoulders hung, something less tense in the way he moved.

when they reached the front of their building and went up the familiar steps, right into their hallway, YN hesitated, her fingers brushing against the door handle. “goodnight, harry.”

he glanced at her, his jaw working like he was debating whether to say something more. “night, YN.”

he opened the door and slipped inside, leaving her standing there for a moment longer, the faint echo of his voice lingering in her chest.

by thursday, it felt less strange.

harry was already there when she walked out of her lab, leaning against the wall again like he had nowhere else to be.

this time, she didn’t pause. she just walked toward him, her bag slung low on her shoulder, and nodded in his direction. “let me guess,” she said as they fell into step together. “you needed air again.”

he smirked, his hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets “you’re quick.”

she rolled her eyes, the faintest smile tugging at her lips. “quick enough to know you’re full of shit.”

as they turned the last corner before their building, harry finally broke the quiet. “so,” he breathed, glancing over at her, “how’s bio lab? still full of idiots?”

she raised an eyebrow, giving him a side-eye as she adjusted her hood. “you care about bio lab now?”

“just making conversation.”

she hummed, skeptical. “it’s fine. i’m getting through it. probably not as hard as chem, though, huh?”

harry laughed softly, shaking his head. “chem’s fine. can’t say the same for everyone else in that class, though.”

YN slowed slightly, turning to face him. “wait—fine? i thought you said you were failing?”

he smirked, tilting his head as he held the door open for her. “did i?”

she blinked, stepping through the doorway before narrowing her eyes at him. “you’re kidding.”

he shrugged, his grin small but sharp. “guess you’ll never know.”

she opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat, stuck somewhere between annoyance and disbelief.

“night, YN.”

“goodnight, harry.”

by the next week, it was a routine again.

neither of them acknowledged it, but they didn’t need to. the walk home became theirs once more, the silence and conversation fitting together like pieces of something neither of them wanted to break again.

two days later, her radiator would give out sometime after midnight.

it wasn’t subtle—first, the groan of old pipes struggling to keep up, then the sharp hiss of steam escaping. finally, a metallic clunk that echoed through the apartment like the radiator had given up entirely.

she stood in front of it, arms crossed, glaring at the rusty old thing like sheer willpower might make it start working again. the cold was already creeping into the room, the chill biting through her socks and sweatshirt.

she’d called the maintenance guy twice, but as usual, it went straight to voicemail.

she paced for a few minutes, debating whether to try fixing it herself. she’d done it once before with her dad’s help over the phone, but the tools she needed weren’t here, and the memory of burning her hand on scalding metal wasn’t exactly encouraging.

with a sigh, she leaned against the counter, her eyes flicking toward the wall separating her apartment from harry’s.

she hesitated.

asking harry felt like admitting something—weakness, maybe, or a level of dependence she wasn’t ready to face. but the cold was making her breath fog, and the maintenance guy clearly wasn’t coming.

“whatever,” she whispered, grabbing a throw blanket from the couch and wrapping it around her shoulders as she crossed the hall.

when harry opened the door, he looked like he’d just rolled out of bed.

his curls were a mess, his hoodie slouching lazily over his frame, the sweatpants he wore hanging low on his hips. his eyes were half-lidded, his features slack with sleep, but when he saw YN standing there, his expression sharpened slightly.

“what’s up?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

she shifted, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “my radiator broke.”

he blinked, rubbing the back of his neck. “did you call maintenance?”

“twice. nothing.”

he sighed, stepping back and jerking his head toward the corner of his apartment. “give me a second. toolbox is somewhere under all this shit.”

she raised an eyebrow. “you have a toolbox?”

“yeah,” harry muttered, crouching to dig through a pile of books and loose papers. “what, y’think i just let my stuff stay broken?”

she smirked faintly, leaning against the doorframe “honestly, kind of.”

he glanced up at her, his lips twitching into a faint smile before he returned to his search. a minute later, he stood, a small red toolbox in hand. “let’s see how bad it is.”

the radiator wasn’t just broken—it was practically on life support.

harry crouched in front of it, his knees on the worn wood, wrench in one hand and flashlight in the other. his hoodie shifted as he moved, revealing the sliver of a shirt beneath and the faint line of muscle along his forearm.

she leaned against the counter, clutching the throw blanket around her shoulders, trying not to stare.

it was a radiator, for god’s sake. there was nothing sexy about it.

but somehow, the sight of harry focused, his brow furrowed as he fiddled with the valve, was enough to pull her attention. the way his hands moved—sure, precise, his knuckles faintly bruised—felt like a distraction she didn’t want to have.

“how long’s it been acting up?” he asked, breaking the silence. his voice was low, steady, like he was more invested in the question than he should’ve been.

she blinked, snapping her gaze away from his hands. “um, tonight. but it’s been making weird noises for a while. hissing. clunking. you know, the usual signs of impending doom.”

harry let out a quiet huff, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips as he adjusted the flashlight. “you waited until it died t’deal with it?”

she shrugged, her grip on the blanket tightening. “figured maintenance would actually show up for once.”

harry snorted softly, shaking his head. “rookie move.”

she rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched faintly upward. “okay, expert. what’s the diagnosis?”

he tilted his head, glancing at the valve before pressing the wrench into it. “clogged. pretty bad, too. no wonder it gave out.”

she shifted closer, crouching beside him to get a better look. “and you know this because…?”

“cause i’ve fixed this piece of shit more times than i can count,” harry sighed, his voice laced with dry humor. “y’think i just let it flood my place every time it breaks?”

YN smirked, tilting her head as she studied him. “so you’re saying you’re handy. good to know.”

harry paused, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “wanna find out?”

“oh, ew.”

he laughed, shaking his head. “you walked right into it.”

their eyes met briefly, the air between them shifting. YN didn’t move, her fingers brushing the edge of the blanket as she watched him.

he broke the stare first, turning back to the radiator with a soft exhale. the metal creaked under the pressure of the wrench, the sound loud enough to fill the room.

she leaned further against the counter as she tried not to let her gaze wander. but the way harry moved—confident, efficient, like he knew exactly what he was doing—made it impossible to ignore.

“you do this for everyone, or am i special?” she asked, her voice lighter now, teasing.

harry chuckled faintly, his lips quirking upward. “you’re special.”

she blinked, caught off guard by the casual honesty in his tone. “wow. didn’t think you’d admit it.”

he glanced back at her, smirking. “don’t let it go to your head.”

“too late.”

a few minutes later, he leaned back, resting his elbows on his knees as he inspected the radiator. his curls fell forward slightly, the faint sheen of sweat on his temple catching the light.

“alright,” he breathed, “should be good f’tonight. just don’t crank it too high, or you’re asking for trouble.”

she stepped closer, crouching beside him again to inspect his work. “so you’re saying this isn’t a permanent fix.”

he shook his head, wiping his hands on the front of his hoodie. “nope. keep bugging maintenance. eventually, he’ll get sick of you.”

she glanced at him, her brow furrowing slightly. “you ever think about being less cynical?”

he snorted, standing and grabbing his wrench. “not really my style.”

YN followed him to her feet, the blanket slipping slightly off her shoulder as she leaned against the counter again. “well, thanks. for whatever your style is.”

harry glanced at her, his jaw tightening briefly before his expression softened. “don’t mention it.”

their eyes met again, the space between them feeling smaller than it should have.

YN swallowed, her fingers brushing the edge of the counter as she tilted her head. “i mean it, thanks. you didn’t have–”

“YN,” harry interrupted, his voice quiet but firm. “it’s okay.”

the weight of his eyes lingered, his features unreadable but softer than usual, like something unspoken was hanging in the air.

she nodded, pulling the blanket tighter around herself “okay.”

harry grabbed his toolbox, heading for the door. as he opened it, he glanced back at her, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “try not to break it again.”

“no promises.”

the door clicked shut behind him, and YN stood there for a long moment, staring at the spot where he’d been.

christmas break arrived a bit too quick, final exams and whispered see-you-later’s mumbled after lectures.

but YN stayed at the apartment.

so did harry.

it was sometime after eleven when she heard it. the knock had been frantic, sharp, and loud enough to rattle her nerves.

she sat up from her spot on the couch, her blanket falling to the floor as she turned toward the door. it wasn't the casual tap of a neighbor or even the hesitant knock of someone unsure if she'd answer. it was loud. rushed. desperate.

her heart kicked up, the kind of thud that made her breath catch in her chest. she didn't even think before standing, her bare feet padding softly across the floor.

she opened the door without a second thought, and there he was.

his curls were a mess, sticking to his damp forehead like he’d been running. blood smeared his cupid’s bow, dried into the corner of his mouth. his cheekbone was bruising fast, a shadow of purple already spreading beneath the skin. his knuckles, raw and bloodied, hung at his sides, trembling slightly as he stood there, his breathing uneven.

but it wasn’t just how he looked. it was his eyes.

they were glassy, far away, like he wasn’t even really standing there.

her breath hitched as her hand tightened on the doorframe. she wanted to ask a million questions—to demand what the hell had happened, to make him explain. but the way his gaze barely met hers before darting to the floor made her stomach churn.

“can i come in?” he asked, his voice low, rough.

she nodded quickly, stepping aside. “of course.”

harry stepped into the apartment, his movements slow and heavy. he stopped in the middle of the living room, his shoulders sagging like the weight of the world was pressing down on him.

she shut the door softly, her heart pounding as she turned to face him. “sit.”

he hesitated, glancing at the couch like it might collapse beneath him. then he slumped into it, his elbows resting on his knees, his head dropping into his hands.

YN hovered for a moment, watching him, before disappearing into the bathroom. she grabbed a towel, dampened it with warm water, and pulled the first aid kit from under the sink.

when she returned, he hadn’t moved.

“you’re a mess.” she murmured, sitting down upon the coffee table that sat right across from him.

he huffed a weak laugh, his shoulders shifting slightly. “you don’t say.”

she started with his face, gently wiping away the blood smeared across his lips and jaw. the silence between them was thick, heavy, but not uncomfortable. it was full, almost brimming, like there was too much in the air between them to put into words.

harry’s eyes stayed downcast, his breathing uneven as YN dabbed carefully at his split lip.

“this is gonna sting,” she warned softly, tilting his chin slightly so the light hit his face. she worked in silence, her fingers brushing against his skin as she cleaned the dried blood.

he didn’t flinch, but she felt the tension in him—the tightness in his jaw, the way his shoulders hunched slightly, like he was holding himself together by a thread.

when she finished with his face, she turned her attention to his hands. his knuckles were a mess—split, swollen, and crusted with blood.

“let me see, please?”

harry hesitated, his fingers twitching slightly before he lifted his hand toward her. she took it carefully, her touch light as she began cleaning the wounds—split raw and red.

and then, without warning, harry broke.

it started with a sharp inhale, his chest heaving as he tried to pull in air. then came the tremble, the kind of shake that started in his shoulders and spread like a wave.

she froze, her gaze snapping to his face.

his eyes were squeezed shut, his lips pressed into a thin line, but he couldn’t stop the tears that spilled over, running down his bruised cheeks. it wasn’t a quiet cry. it was raw, deep, the kind of cry that came from somewhere buried so far inside that it was impossible to contain.

YN set the towel down, her fingers still wrapped lightly around his hand. “harry…”

he shook his head, his voice breaking as he choked out the words. “i don’t know how much longer i can do this.”

her chest tightened, her free hand coming up brush strands of hair from his forehead. “do what?”

he exhaled sharply, a shuddering breath that seemed to rattle his entire frame. “all of it,” he croaked, his voice cracking. “the fucking drugs. school. the… everything. i can’t keep it together anymore.”

“you don’t have to.”

his eyes snapped open at that, his gaze locking onto hers. they were red, glassy, but sharper now, like her words had cut through something.

“yes, i do,” he said, his voice bitter. “you don’t get it, YN. if i don’t, it all falls apart.”

“then let it,” she whispered, her voice sharper, the tension in her chest spilling into her words. “let it fall apart, harry. you don’t have to carry everything alone.”

he stared at her, his breathing still uneven, his knuckles trembling in her grasp. the silence that followed was thick, full of everything he wanted to say but couldn’t.

but she didn’t let go of his hand.

he sat back against the couch, his chest still rising and falling unevenly as he wiped at his face with the heel of his uninjured hand. his head tilted back, his eyes drifting toward the ceiling like it might hold some kind of answer for him.

then, after a beat, he shifted forward, his elbows on his knees, preparing to stand. “i should go,” he muttered, his voice rough, worn thin.

he rose to his feet, wobbling momentarily before he ambled toward the door.

her frown deepened. “don’t.”

his eyes flicked to hers, hesitant, searching. “YN, i—”

“stay,” she said, cutting him off, her tone leaving no room for argument. “just… stay. at least for tonight.”

he paused, his jaw working as he glanced toward the door. but then he exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging like he’d finally let go of whatever excuse he was clinging to.

slowly, he toed off his sneakers by the door, one foot pressing against the back of the other to slip them off without bending. he straightened, looking at her expectantly, unsure of what to do next, waiting for her to guide him.

YN’s chest ached at the sight.

she crossed the room, shutting off the tv and the lamp in the corner, plunging the living room into soft darkness. then she turned back to him, stepping closer, her fingers brushing gently over his hand.

“come on,” she murmured, her grip light but steady as she led him toward the bedroom. the room was dim, the soft glow of the streetlights filtering through the blinds.

harry lingered by the door, his steps hesitant as YN turned back to face him. “just for tonight,” she breathed. “just so i know you’re okay. we don’t have to talk about it. not ever, if you don’t want to.”

his lips twitched, almost into a smile, but the weight in his eyes dulled it. “just once, huh?” he whispered, the faintest trace of humor slipping through.

YN nodded, watching him carefully. “just once.”

he shifted, glancing down at his hoodie, the edges of it damp and stained. “can i…?” he gestured toward his chest. “s’kind of a mess.”

“yeah.” her voice was barely above a whisper as she began to fumble with the blankets on the bed.

he reached for the hem of the battered fabric, pulling it over his head in one slow, fluid motion. it clung slightly, damp with rain and speckled with blood, before he tossed it to the floor. his tshirt followed, revealing the lean line of his frame, faint bruises already forming along his ribs, the tattoos that decorated him.

her eyes flicked over him briefly, catching on the dark smudge of a bruise near his collarbone, but she didn’t comment.

he stepped toward the bed, hesitating for a beat before sliding under the covers. the mattress dipped slightly as he settled, his movements slow, unsure.

she slipped in beside him, her movements deliberate, careful, leaving just enough space between them to let him decide. for a long moment, the only sounds were the faint rustling of sheets and the distant hum of the city outside.

harry lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, his hands resting loosely on his stomach. his breathing was quieter now, steadier, but the tension in his frame was still palpable.

then he shifted.

he turned toward her, the covers rustling softly as he inched closer, his chest brushing her side as he lowered his head against her shoulder.

she froze briefly, her breath catching as his curls tickled her collarbone, the faint scent of rain and something sharp lingering on him. she moved her arm at his pace, holding his head against her, fingers brushing through his curls.

he let out a shuddering breath, his body softening against hers, the weight of him settling in like was made to fit against her.

she combed her fingers gently through his hair, her other hand resting lightly against his bicep as his arm draped over her.

it was all unspoken.

harry’s breathing slowed, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm against her side. YN’s fingers didn’t stop, the motion soothing for both of them.

just once—it seemed to echo like a taunt. just once, even if neither of them truly believed that.

the hours ticked by slowly, the room heavy with the kind of silence that didn’t feel empty, but full.

harry hadn’t moved much since he’d settled against her, his head resting on her chest, his breath brushing faintly against her collarbone. she honestly thought he’d fallen asleep, at least, till he spoke again.

“i didn’t mean t’scare you.” he croaked, his voice muffled slightly by the fabric of her shirt.

she paused, her hand stilling for a moment before resuming its path through his hair. “you didn’t scare me.”

“you don’t have to lie t’me.”

“i’m not.” her voice was soft, steady. “you didn’t scare me, harry. you just… worried me.”

his hand shifted, his fingers brushing lightly against the edge of her blanket. “i didn’t mean to do that, either.”

she tilted her head slightly, her chin dipping into his tousled mess of curls. “then stop doing things that make me worry.”

he smiled weakly, the expression brief and half-hearted. “easier said than done.”

they fell into silence again, the weight of his words hanging between them.

YN wanted to ask what had happened, what had pushed him to show up at her door the way he had. but she bit her tongue, letting the steady rise and fall of his breathing fill the space instead.

it wasn’t until his hand shifted again, this time fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, that he spoke once more. “s’been a long time since i…” he hesitated, his voice trailing off like the words were too heavy to finish.

her hand stilled, her fingers curling slightly against his scalp. “since you what?”

he exhaled slowly, the sound shaky, almost unsure. “since i let anyone see me like this.”

her chest tightened, the knot of something unnamed twisting deep beneath her ribs. she pressed her fingers gently against the back of his neck, her touch grounding. “you’re allowed to let people in, harry.”

he shook his head, cheek still pressed against her, the movement causing the collar of her shirt to shift a bit lower. “not really.”

“yes, really,” she said firmly, her voice low but resolute. “you don’t have to carry all of this by yourself.”

his hand balled the fabric of her shirt, his body pressing closer to hers like he was trying to absorb the weight of her words. “s’not that simple, cinnamon.”

“it doesn’t have to be complicated, either.”

they didn’t speak again after that, but the tension in the room shifted.

harry’s breathing evened out, his body relaxing against hers as the exhaustion he’d been fighting finally caught up with him.

YN stayed awake longer, her hand brushing gently through his curls, her other hand tracing the muscle in his bicep. she stared at the ceiling, her mind racing with everything she wanted to say but couldn’t. but eventually, her eyes grew heavy, and the rhythm of his breathing lulled her to sleep.

by morning, she woke to the weight of his arm still draped across her waist, the faint warmth of his skin against her own. his face was pressed against her chest, his curls soft and unruly, tickling her jawline. his lips, still split and red, were parted just enough to let out the quietest, almost imperceptible snores.

for a moment, she stayed still, letting the quiet of the room wash over her, the hum of the radiator and the muffled sounds of the city filtering through the window.

but then reality crept in, nudging her to move.

carefully, she shifted, slipping out of his grasp. harry stirred slightly, his arm twitching before falling back against the bed. he let out a soft sigh, his body sinking deeper into the mattress, and YN froze for a beat, watching him.

the bruise on his cheekbone had darkened overnight, a stark reminder of everything that had happened. she stepped lightly toward the thermostat, turning up the heat a touch before padding into the small kitchen.

her fridge was mostly empty, save for a few leftovers and a half-gallon of milk. she sighed, crouching to dig through the shelves until her hand landed on a familiar blue tube tucked into the corner.

ready-to-bake cinnamon rolls.

simple. easy. and hopefully something harry wouldn’t complain about. she pulled the tube out, setting it on the counter before preheating the oven. as she moved, her thoughts swirled—fragments of the night before, the weight of his head against her chest, the broken edge in his voice when he cried.

harry was a puzzle she wasn’t sure she was supposed to solve, but she couldn’t stop trying.

the scent of cinnamon and sugar began to fill the air just as she heard the faint creak of the bedroom door.

YN turned, glancing toward the hallway as harry trudged into the living room, his chest bare, his sweatpants from yesterday still slung on his hips. his hair was a mess of curls, sticking out in every direction, and his eyelids hung heavy, dark lashes casting faint shadows against his bruised cheekbone.

he rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a low groan as he stepped further into the room. “what time is it?” he mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.

“almost nine.”

he leaned against the wall, blinking slowly as the scent of the cinnamon rolls registered. “you’re baking?”

“don’t get too excited,” she said lightly, glancing over her shoulder. “pillsbury.”

he smirked faintly, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “good enough f’me.”

YN shook her head, hiding a small smile as she grabbed a plate from the cabinet. “go sit down. they’re almost done.”

he pushed off the wall, his movements slow and deliberate as he sank onto the couch. “didn’t know you were a morning person,” he muttered, resting his head against the back of the couch as he stretched his legs out in front of him.

“i’m not,” she said, pulling the cinnamon rolls from the oven. “you’re just lucky i like you enough to feed you.”

he huffed a quiet laugh, his eyes slipping shut. “guess i’ll take what i can get.”

she glanced at him as she set the rolls on the counter, her chest tightening faintly at the sight of him—bare, bruised, and completely at ease for the first time since she’d opened the door last night.

she shook the thought away, grabbing a plate and a spatula as she tried to ignore the warmth spreading through her chest.

when she set the plate in front of him, harry opened one eye, “yeah,” he smiled, his voice still low, almost a drawl. “you definitely like me.”

she rolled her eyes, settling onto the couch beside him. “shut up and eat.”

she stole a glance at harry as he chewed slowly, his head bowed slightly over the plate in his lap. the bruise on his cheek looked worse in the daylight, darker, more defined.

it was uncanny, how vulnerable he looked—shirtless and bruised, curled up on her sofa.

he didn’t look up when he broke the silence. “where’s your roommate?”

“home,” she sighed, “she went back for break.”

he nodded, his focus still on the roll in front of him. “makes sense.”

another silence followed, stretching longer this time, broken only by the faint clank of the plate as YN set it on the coffee table.

he shifted, his fingers brushing the edge of his plate before he set it down beside hers. “can i stay?” he asked, his voice low, hesitant.

she frowned slightly, tilting her head to look at him. “here?”

he nodded, his gaze fixed on the table. “just for a while. i don’t…” he paused, his fingers flexing against his knees. “i don’t feel like going back right now.”

she didn’t respond immediately, her chest tightening as she watched him. there was something raw in his voice, something that made her think he’d never asked for this kind of thing before—not from her, not from anyone. she shifted closer, resting her elbows on her knees as she leaned toward him. “you don’t have to ask. of course, you can stay.”

harry finally looked up, his sleepy eyes meeting hers. “just for a while,” he repeated, his voice quieter now.

YN shook her head, her lips twitching into the faintest of smiles. “as long as you need.”

he didn’t respond, but the tension in his frame seemed to ease, his shoulders dropping slightly as he leaned back into the couch.

she wasn’t used to seeing harry like this.

his usual confidence—his sharp tongue and quick wit, had softened into something quieter, something almost fragile. the way he slouched slightly in his seat, the way his fingers fidgeted against his knees—it all felt foreign, but it tugged at something deep inside her.

he stayed there for a while, his head tipped back against the couch, eyes half-lidded as he seemed to lose himself in the moment. YN didn’t press him, didn’t say anything, just let the silence stretch between them, comfortable and full.

eventually, harry shifted, sitting forward as he rubbed his hands over his face. “i should grab some clothes.”

she glanced at him, pulling her legs up onto the couch. “from your apartment?”

he nodded, standing slowly and rolling his shoulders as he glanced toward the door. “yeah. but…” he paused, his jaw tightening slightly before he let out a slow breath. “can i shower here?”

“you don’t wanna shower at yours?”

he shook his head, his lips barely forming a pout. he didn’t respond, not verbally at least, but his silence was enough.

she nodded, “go get your clothes then.”

he was only gone for a few minutes, slipping out her door and back in with an armful of clean clothes to change into.

she stood as he locked the door behind him, gesturing toward the hall. “c’mon.” she led him to the bathroom she shared with her roommate, flipping on the light and pulling back the shower curtain. “okay,” she breathed, pointing toward the corner of the tub. “this is my stuff.” she glanced at the bottles lined neatly along the edge. “shampoo, conditioner, body wash. whatever you need.”

harry stood just inside the doorway, watching her with an intensity she tried to ignore. his arms hung loosely at his sides, his expression unreadable but steady.

YN reached for the faucet, twisting it to adjust the temperature, testing the water with her hand before stepping back. “there,” she smiled gently, looking at him over her shoulder.

she hesitated, her hand hovering near the shower curtain, before finally stepping toward the door. “i’ll be in the living room if you need anything.”

he didn’t respond right away. his eyes flicked to hers briefly, something flickering in their depths—something warm, quiet, and unsaid. “thanks.”

she nodded, slipping out of the bathroom and pulling the door shut behind her.

harry stood there for a moment, staring at the running water, the faint scent of her body wash already filling the small room. his chest felt tight, but not in the way it had last night. this was different. warmer.

he glanced toward the door, his lips pressing into a faint, unreadable line as he exhaled slowly. it wasn’t much—letting him stay, starting the shower for him, showing him her space—but it was enough to make something in his chest ache.

the night would settle in slowly, blanketing the city in quiet.

her back pressed lightly against the mattress as she stared at the faint outline of her bedroom ceiling. the soft hum of the radiator filled the silence, its warmth finally chasing away the lingering chill from earlier.

harry was beside her again, just like the night before.

at first, they were apart, separated by a stretch of empty space between them. she could feel his presence, though—the slow rise and fall of his breathing, the occasional rustle of the sheets when he shifted. but then, just as she’d started to drift off, he moved.

the bed dipped slightly as he turned toward her, his weight shifting as his arm draped across her waist. his chest pressed lightly against her side, and his curls tickled her jawline as he lowered his head to her chest.

it was the same as last night, yet somehow it felt different—heavier, more—just more.

her fingers combed through his curls again, and he let out a soft sigh, his body relaxing against hers, the tension she hadn’t even realized was there melting away with the sound.

the silence stretched, long and unbroken, until harry’s voice cut through it—quiet, almost hesitant. “are we still friends?”

YN froze briefly, her hand pausing mid-motion before she resumed her gentle combing. her gaze drifted upward, staring at the faint pattern of the popcorn ceiling as his question echoed in her mind. she didn’t answer right away, her tummy tightening as she tried to make sense of what he was asking—not just the words, but the weight behind them.

finally, she nodded, the movement gentle as her chin brushed against his curls. “of course,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the slight flutter in her chest.

he didn’t respond immediately, but the way he shifted closer, his arm tightening around her waist, said more than words could have. she kept combing through his hair, the motion slow and soothing, her fingers tangling lightly in the knots at the nape of his neck.

“this okay?” she asked quietly after a while, her voice barely above a murmur.

he exhaled, the sound low and heavy, like he was sinking into her touch. he only hummed, “mm-hm.”

her lips twitched faintly, a small, tired smile forming as she rested her cheek lightly against his head.

his breathing slowed, his weight growing heavier against her as sleep began to pull at him. YN stayed awake longer, her fingers threaded through his hair, her eyes fluttering shut. whatever this was—whatever they were—it was fragile, unspoken, and entirely theirs.

the rest of the week passed in a blur.

monday

it started with breakfast. YN had woken up early, the smell of coffee already filling the small apartment when harry wandered into the kitchen.

he was barefoot, his shirt hung loosely around his frame, curls a mess, still sleep-tangled, and the faint shadow of the bruise on his cheekbone was beginning to fade.

“you’re up early,” he muttered, leaning against the counter as he grabbed a mug.

she shrugged, flipping a pancake. “someone has to feed you.”

he smirked faintly, lifting the mug to his lips. “you say that like i’d starve without you.”

“you might,” she teased, glancing over her shoulder. “your fridge is pathetic.”

he didn’t argue. he just sipped his coffee and watched her move around the kitchen.

tuesday

the snow came down hard that afternoon, blanketing the streets in white.

they sat on the couch, harry’s legs stretched out in front of him, YN tucked into the corner with a blanket draped over her lap. a movie played quietly on the tv, but neither of them was really watching it.

“you ever build a snowman?” she asked suddenly, glancing at him.

“what, like when i was a kid?”

“sure,” she said, nudging him lightly with her foot. “don’t tell me you’ve never done it.”

he shrugged, his smirk fading into something softer. “once or twice.”

she grinned, leaning forward. “you wanna do it now?”

harry stared at her for a long moment before shaking his head, laughing softly under his breath. “you’re ridiculous.”

but an hour later, they were outside, their hands red from the cold as they shaped clumps of snow into something that vaguely resembled a snowman.

wednesday

harry had offered to cook.

she had been skeptical—especially when she saw him poking around the kitchen like he wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing. “you know how to use that, right?” she asked, gesturing toward the knife in his hand.

he shot her a glare, though the faint grin on his lips betrayed him. “m’not completely useless.”

it turned out he wasn’t. dinner wasn’t fancy, but it was good—better than she’d expected, and she told him so.

“don’t get used to it,” he muttered, glancing at her as he sat back in his chair.

she grinned, her fork tapping against her plate. “you say that like you’re not gonna do this again.”

he didn’t answer, but the faint curve of his lips told her she was right.

friday

the radiator acted up again.

harry fixed it without her asking, crouched in front of the thing with his hoodie sleeves pushed up and a wrench in his hand.

YN leaned against the counter, watching him work, her arms crossed over her chest. “they should probably just hire you as the new maintenance man at this point.”

harry glanced over his shoulder, “you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

YN shrugged, trying to keep her expression neutral. “it’d be efficient.”

he turned back to the radiator, but she caught the faintest twitch of his lips, the smirk softening into something that made her tummy flutter.

saturday night

harry didn’t leave her bed that night, just like every other night that week.

but this time, there was no hesitation.

he shifted toward her sooner, his arm slipping around her waist as he pressed his face into the curve of her neck.

YN sighed softly, her hand lifting to comb through his curls, her fingers tracing the familiar path she’d memorized over the past few nights. “you know this is becoming a habit.”

harry huffed a quiet breath, his lips brushing against her skin. “maybe s’not a bad one.”

YN smiled faintly, her fingers tangling into his hair. “you saying you like having me around?”

he didn’t answer, but the way his arm tightened around her waist and his body softened against hers was enough.

the pounding didn’t stop.

harry groaned, dragging a hand over his face as the sharp knocks echoed through the quiet of the apartment. his head was still heavy with sleep, his curls a messy halo that tickled YN’s shoulder as he shifted beside her.

the sound came again, louder this time, and she blinked herself awake, sitting up slightly as she frowned toward the hallway. “it’s not mine,” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

he sighed, sitting up and planting his feet on the floor. “no,” he muttered, his voice rough. “s’mine.”

she turned to look at him, her brow furrowing. “you’re sure?”

harry nodded, rubbing his eyes as he stood. “yeah. i’ll handle it.” he grabbed his hoodie that hung from her bed frame, tugging it over his head as he crossed through her hallway. the knocking hadn’t stopped, and by the time he opened YN’s door and stepped out, his scowl was firmly in place.

a guy stood in front of his door—college-aged, tall, wearing a puffy jacket and sneakers that looked too clean for someone pounding on doors at this hour.

harry’s steps were slow, deliberate, the sleep still heavy in his frame as he approached. “you’re real fucking persistent, y’know that?”

the guy turned, his eyes flicking over him with thinly veiled irritation. “dude, i’ve been texting you all week.”

YN appeared in the doorway behind harry, her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the frame. she stayed silent, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watched the two.

he tilted his head, his curls brushing against his hood as he crossed his arms. “so y’thought banging on my door at ten in the morning was a good move?”

the guy shrugged, his tone defensive. “you’ve been m.i.a, man. i need what i asked for.”

harry let out a sharp breath, his jaw tightening as he reached up to run his hand down his face. “jesus christ.”

YN stepped forward slightly, her voice cutting through the tension. “this really something that couldn’t wait?”

the guy blinked, noticing her for the first time. his eyes flicked between her and harry, something smug curling at the edge of his lips. “oh,” he said, dragging the word out. “this why you’ve been missing?”

harry stiffened, his jaw clenching as his eyes narrowed. “don’t.” he warned, his tone sharp.

the guy held up his hands, his smirk widening. “i’m just saying—”

“i don’t give a shit what you’re saying,” he snapped, stepping forward. his voice stayed low, but the edge in it made the guy falter. “you‘ll get what you need later and you’ll walk away. clear?”

the guy hesitated, glancing at YN again before muttering something under his breath and nodding. “fine. i’ll text you later.”

harry watched him walk off, his shoulders tight, his hands curling into fists at his sides. when the guy was gone, she stepped closer, her voice softer now. “you okay?”

he shook his head, exhaling slowly as he turned back to her. “s’fine.”

“are you sure?”

harry frowned, the irritation fading slightly as he glanced at her. but he nodded, brushing past her into the apartment.

she followed him, shutting the door softly behind them. “does that happen a lot?”

he didn’t answer right away. he leaned against the counter, running a hand through his curls before glancing at her. “not usually.”

her frown deepened, but she didn’t press. “you sure you’re okay?”

harry met her eyes, his expression softening slightly, though the tension didn’t leave his frame. “yeah,” he said after a moment, his voice low. “yeah, m’good.”

she didn’t believe him, not entirely. but she nodded, letting the silence settle between them as the morning stretched on.

he had left around two, grabbing his hoodie off the back of the chair and muttering something about finally putting food in her fridge.

“i’ve been raiding yours, doesn’t seem fair.”he said earlier, his voice laced with lazy humor as he ruffled his curls into place.

she raised an eyebrow from her spot on the couch, the corner of her mouth twitching upward. “that hasn’t stopped you all week.”

he smirked faintly, tugging the hood over his head. “yeah, well. figured i’d give you a break.”

and with that, he was out the door, leaving YN alone in the quiet apartment.

the knock came twenty minutes later, startling her.

it wasn’t the casual tap of a neighbor or the soft knock of a package delivery—it was firm, insistent. she frowned, setting her laptop aside as she stood, her socked feet padding softly against the floor.

when she opened the door, her stomach twisted. there he was—the guy from that morning, his puffy jacket zipped tight, his expression set in something between annoyance and impatience.

“um,” she paused, gripping the edge of the door. “can i help you?”

his eyes flicked over her briefly before he jerked his chin toward the hallway. “harry here?”

her chest tightened, but she kept her voice steady. “no. he’s out.”

the guy huffed, his hands disappearing into his jacket pockets as he nodded toward the apartment behind her. “you know when he’ll be back? he said i could get my shit later.”

“no, he didn’t say.”

he studied her for a beat, his head tilting slightly. “he live with you now?”

she shook her head. “he just… visits.”

the guy smirked faintly, the expression smug. “yeah. figured that much.”

YN bristled, her hand tightening on the doorframe. “look, if you’re trying to reach him, text him. i don’t know anything.”

the guy held her gaze for a moment longer, something unreadable flickering in his expression. finally, he stepped back, shrugging. “sure. i’ll text him…again.”

she slammed the door shut, her heart racing as she flipped the deadbolt into place. she leaned against the wood, exhaling sharply as the tension slowly began to drain from her frame.

she didn’t tell harry when he got back.

he’d been carrying enough all week, the exhaustion in his eyes and the weight in his shoulders a constant reminder of everything he was dealing with.

so she kept it to herself.

it wasn’t until later that evening, when they were sitting on the couch with the faint glow of the tv lighting the room, that harry’s phone buzzed.

he glanced at it, his jaw tightening as he read the message.

hey, stopped by urs and then ur girl’s place earlier. said u were out again. just let me know when i can get my eighth man.

harry’s chest tightened, his breath catching as he stared at the screen. “what the fuck?” he muttered, his voice low and sharp.

YN looked over, her brow furrowing. “what’s wrong?”

he turned the phone toward her, his eyes narrowing. “he came here?”

she hesitated, her stomach twisting. “yeah,” she admitted softly. “this afternoon. i didn’t think it was worth stressing you over.”

his expression hardened, his lips pressing into a thin line. “not worth stressing me over? YN, he showed up at your door.”

“i know,” she said quickly, her voice steady despite the tension creeping into her chest. “but i handled it. it’s fine.”

“s’not fine,” harry snapped, standing abruptly. “this isn’t just about me anymore, okay? if people start thinking it’s okay to involve you—”

“harry,” YN interrupted, standing to face him. “you’re overreacting. he was annoying, sure, but it’s not like he threatened me.”

“doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice rising. “this shit is getting out of hand. promised myself i’d keep you out of it, and now people are knocking on your door looking f’me. that’s not okay.”

“then maybe you should stop,” YN said, the words spilling out before she could stop them.

harry froze, his eyes snapping to hers, the weight of her words hitting him like a punch. “you think i haven’t thought about that?” he muttered, his voice quieter now but no less tense. “you think i want to keep doing this?”

her stomach twisted in ways that screamed retreat, retreat, retreat—the frustration in his voice cutting deeper than she expected. “don’t do this anymore, harry. it’s not worth it.”

he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his curls as he turned away. “you don’t get it,” his voice was tight. “s’not that simple.”

“then make it simple.”

harry turned back to her, his jaw clenched, chest heaving as if he was trying his hardest to keep his composure. “i can’t.” his tone was sharp, the words heavy. “and you don’t get to tell me i can.”

YN frowned, her arms crossing over her chest as the weight of his words settled between them. he grabbed his hoodie from the chair, pulling it over his head before turning toward the door. “i need air.” he left without another word, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving her alone in the quiet apartment.

harry didn’t come back that night.

YN stayed up later than she intended, the silence pressing in on her. she flipped through a textbook on the couch, barely absorbing a single word, her mind spinning with fragments of their argument.

his face—the tension in his jaw, the sharpness in his voice, it just played on a loop in her head.

when she finally gave up on pretending to study, she dragged herself to bed, the empty space beside her feeling heavier than it had in weeks.

harry, meanwhile, had locked himself in his own apartment.

he sat at his small kitchen table, a half-empty bottle of water in front of him and his phone facedown beside it. the air in the apartment was stale, colder than he liked, but he hadn’t bothered to adjust the heat.

his bed was just in the other room, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie down.

the argument replayed in his head, every word a sharp reminder of how badly he’d let things spiral. YN was right—this wasn’t sustainable. he knew it, even if he didn’t want to admit it. but the idea of walking away from the one thing keeping him afloat felt impossible, like stepping off a ledge with no guarantee there’d be solid ground beneath him.

he rubbed his hands over his face, the bruises on his knuckles still tender, a faint throb reminding him of how close everything had come to boiling over.

when he finally moved to the bed, it was late, the clock blinking 3:42 am.

the sheets were cold, unfamiliar, and for the first time in weeks, harry realized just how much he’d come to rely on the quiet warmth of YN’s apartment.

it wasn’t just the bed or the radiator or the soft glow of her bedside lamp.

it was her.

the next morning, she woke up to the kind of silence that wasn’t comforting, just hollow. she sat on the edge of her bed for a long time, staring at the spot harry would normally take—his arm draped over her waist, his curls tickling her collarbone.

now, it was just empty.

she thought about texting him, but her fingers hovered over her phone, indecisive. she wasn’t sure what she’d even say.

harry didn’t text her either.

the day dragged on, heavy and slow, each hour feeling like it stretched longer than it should have.

she couldn’t help but glance at the wall separating her apartment from harry’s, the faint sound of movement on his side making her chest tighten.

he was close—just steps away. but for the first time in weeks, he felt farther than ever.

and neither of them knew how to bridge the distance.

the next afternoon, coming home from work, she spotted him the moment she turned the corner onto her floor.

harry was sitting on the ground just outside her door, his back pressed against the wall, his head tilted back as if he’d been staring at the ceiling for hours. the faint light from the hallway cast shadows under his eyes, making the tiredness on his face even more apparent.

he didn’t say anything when he saw her. didn’t stand, didn’t offer an explanation.

he didn’t need to.

YN’s steps slowed, her bag hanging heavy off her shoulder as her eyes met his. there was a weight in his gaze, an unspoken plea that neither of them needed to put into words.

she didn’t ask why he was there.

instead, she reached into her pocket, pulling out her keys and unlocking the door.

he stood, slipping off his shoes just inside the entryway as if he belonged there. maybe he did. without a word, he walked the short hallway to her bedroom.

the bathroom was warm from the radiator, but the chill of the night still clung to her skin as she slipped out of her scrubs. she could hear the faint creak of the bed as harry settled into it, the sound an odd comfort after the last two days of his absence.

YN pulled on a pair of worn sweats and a loose sweatshirt, her mind too tired to linger on the why of it all. when she finally climbed into bed, harry didn’t move to face her like he usually did. instead, he shifted closer, pressing his chest against her back, his arm sliding underneath her head to pull her closer.

his body was warm, solid, grounding in a way she hadn’t realized she needed until it was there again.

they didn’t speak.

she twisted the rings on his fingers, the very hand that lay sprawled over her tummy, pressing her into his chest. “harry?” she murmured, her voice worn, tired.

he hummed softly in acknowledgment, his arm tightening slightly around her.

“tell me why it’s not so simple?”

his breath hitched, just faintly, and she felt his hesitation in the way his grip faltered for the briefest moment. “it just isn’t,” he sighed, his voice low, rough against her ear.

“that’s not an answer,” she frowned, her index finger tracing the H of his ring. “not a real one.”

he exhaled sharply, the sound heavy and resigned, and for a moment, she thought he might shut down entirely.

but then he spoke. “s’my mum,” he rasped. “and rent. and groceries. and bills.”

she stayed silent, her fingers pausing against his fingers as she let him continue.

“i grew up watching her work three jobs just to keep the lights on—before we moved,” he mumbled, his voice steady but hollow, like he’d had this conversation in his head a thousand times but never out loud. “and it still wasn’t enough. there was always more t’pay for, always something else breaking, something else needing fixing.”

his chest pressed harder against her back, like he was trying to ground himself in the moment.

“when i got here, i thought things would get better. scholarships, loans—it was supposed to be enough. but it’s not.” his voice cracked, just barely. “it never is.”

“so you started dealing,” she croaked, filling in the gaps he didn’t.

harry nodded against her, his breath warm against the back of her neck. “weed was easy,” he admitted. “then psychedelics. then molly. s’not what i wanted, but… it worked. it kept me here. kept her afloat back home.”

YN turned back toward him slightly, her hand reaching for his. “har–”

he shook his head, “don’t.”

she didn’t push him, her fingers threading lightly through his as she pressed their hands between her chest and his.“you don’t have to keep doing this,” she said quietly after a long pause. “you know that, right?”

his grip tightened, and she felt the faintest shake in his fingers. “i don’t know anything else,” his lips trembled, his voice so soft she almost didn’t hear it.

she turned fully, her forehead brushing against his as she met his gaze, her hand still holding his tightly. “then let me help.”

“you don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said finally, his voice low, but the bite that usually sharpened his words was absent.

she didn’t flinch. didn’t look away. instead, her lips curved into the faintest, almost tired smile. “i know enough,” she murmured.

they lay there, facing each other now, their cheeks pressed against the pillows. the faint orange glow of the streetlights filtered through the blinds, casting soft shadows over their faces. harry’s eyes softened slightly, but he didn’t argue, didn’t push her away. he just watched as she shifted, her hand reaching out to trace the black ink etched into his bicep.

her fingertips moved slowly, following the lines of the tattooed ship, the sails that stretched across his skin. “i get it. not everything, maybe, but enough.”

her fingers paused briefly on the edge of the ink, her eyes dropping to her hand before continuing. “i’m here because of a full ride. the scholarship’s the only reason i even got to set foot in this city. but it’s not just… given, you know? there are expectations, benchmarks, a constant weight reminding me that if i slip up, even once, it’s over.”

harry’s eyes stayed on her, the faint tension in his jaw softening as he listened. “it’s like…” she hesitated, her fingers still tracing the tattoo. “it feels like there’s this blade hanging over me all the time. like one wrong step, one failed class, and it’ll fall.”

her voice wavered slightly, and she exhaled softly, shaking her head. “i’m scared, harry. scared of failing. scared of… what happens if i do.”

his hand shifted, brushing lightly against her arm.

“and the future,” she continued, her gaze flicking up to meet his. “i think about it all the time. whether i’ll make it through this, whether all of this pressure will be worth it in the end. sometimes it feels like it’s too much, but then i think, what’s the alternative? giving up? i can’t do that either.”

harry’s lips pressed into a thin line, his expression unreadable, but his hand stayed where it was, a small, grounding touch against her arm.

“so yeah,” she sighed softly, her fingers brushing one last time over the edge of the ship before dropping to the pillow. “i don’t know everything, but i know what it feels like to carry something too heavy for too long. and i know what it feels like to be scared of what happens if you stop.”

he exhaled slowly, his eyes searching hers in the dim light. he didn’t say anything, but the way his fingers tightened slightly against her arm told her he’d heard her.

harry returned to the building just after five, the sky outside dimming as the cold of the evening set in.

he reached up for the key YN had left above the doorframe, something she reminded him of this morning before she left for work. his fingers brushed the cool metal easily, a smile on his lips as he unlocked the door.

stepping inside, the warmth of the apartment wrapped around him, a stark contrast to the chill that had seeped into his bones from the day.

his eyes landed on YN immediately. she was curled up on the couch, a blanket draped loosely over her, the flicker of the tv casting soft shadows across her face. her chest rose and fell evenly, her lips slightly parted in sleep.

harry toed off his shoes by the door, moving quietly as he turned the heat up a notch. his shirt stuck to his skin, damp with sweat and the stale air from hours spent running around the city. he peeled it off, tossing it over the back of a chair before padding toward the couch.

for a moment, he just stood there, his eyes tracing the soft curve of her body beneath the blanket, the way the dim light from the tv illuminated her features.

he didn’t think twice before bending down, sliding his arms beneath her. she stirred faintly as he lifted her, a quiet sigh escaping her lips, but she didn’t wake fully.

he slipped onto the couch, settling her carefully between his legs, her head resting against his lower stomach. she shifted slightly, her cheek pressing against him as he adjusted the blanket to cover them both.

his fingers found her hair instinctively, combing through the strands in slow, deliberate motions. it was a habit he’d picked up from her, from the way she soothed him almost every night, and he found himself wondering if she felt the same quiet calm from it that he did.

the tv flickered in front of him, some show he didn’t recognize playing softly, but his focus stayed on her.

her breath was warm against his skin, her body soft and relaxed, and for the first time all day, harry felt the weight of the world start to lift, just a little.

he thought she was asleep.

until her voice broke through the quiet, soft and drowsy but steady enough to make his chest tighten. “harry, i don’t think we’re just friends.”

his hand stilled in her hair, his heart thudding once, hard, against his ribs. he looked down at her, his breath catching as she shifted slightly, her face turning toward him, though her eyes were half-lidded. “what makes you say that?”

she hummed softly, her fingers curling slightly against his side beneath the blanket. “because friends don’t… do this.”

harry swallowed hard, his hand brushing lightly against the back of her head, resuming its slow, soothing rhythm. “you think so?”

YN nodded faintly, her cheek nuzzling against him. “pretty sure.”

he huffed a quiet breath, his lips twitching into the faintest of smiles despite the sharp twist in his chest. “maybe you’re right, cinnamon.”

she didn’t respond, her breathing evening out again as sleep pulled her back under.

harry stared at the tv, his hand still in her hair, the weight of her words settling over him like a blanket of its own.

they'd both drifted off sometime after the quiet settled, the hum of the tv lulling them into sleep. when YN blinked awake, the room was dark except for the flickering light bleeding from the screen, washing everything in shades of blue and white.

she was still between his thighs, her cheek pressed against his naval, his warmth a quiet anchor as his belly fluttered with every breath.

harry stirred beneath her, letting out a low groan as he rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand, his fingers brushing through his curls. he blinked hard, adjusting to the sudden glow of the television. the bruise on his cheekbone had faded to a dull yellow, but his knuckles still bore the deep, mottled stain of healing. they flexed slightly as he shifted, testing the ache.

she sat up slowly, still nestled between his legs, pulling her knees to her chest as she turned to face him.

his smile was soft, lopsided and heavy with sleep, his dimples cutting through in the faint light. his hands found the outer edges of her knees, palms warm and solid as he wiggled them side to side gently. "the bed is probably more comfortable," he whispered, his voice low and scratchy, like he hadn't used it in hours.

but she didn't move. not away, at least. instead, she shifted closer, folding into herself, her toes tucking beneath him in the small space left between them.

her hands reached out almost hesitantly, brushing against his chest, her fingertips tracing the swallows inked beneath his collarbones.

harry tensed slightly, his breath catching just enough for her to notice.

she leaned in, her knees tilting inward, resting along his hipbones. the flicker of the tv painted her face in broken shards of light as she edged closer, her lips a breath away.

he swallowed hard, his voice a warning but barely that. "YN..”

but he didn't move. didn't stop her.

her lips hovered just over his, her breath warm against his mouth, and her voice came soft and deliberate, barely above a whisper. "tell me to stop."

he didn't.

the space between them disappeared as her lips met his, slow and certain, her hands sliding up to rest against the curve of his shoulders.

for a second, he didn't move, like the weight of the moment had pinned him in place. but then his hands shifted, sliding from her knees to her waist, pulling her in closer as the kiss deepened, quiet and unhurried, their breaths tangling in the stillness of the room.

her lips coaxed his into movement until hesitation (almost) fell away completely. his breath hitched as her hands slid up his neck, fingers grazing over the curve of his jaw.

he whispered her name against her lips, the sound a mix of a moan and a warning, like he wasn't sure if he wanted to stop or pull her closer.

but his hands betrayed him. they gripped her hips firmly, pressing her down until she straddled him, her knees framing his thighs, his back still flush against the armrest of the couch.

her weight settled over him, and harry's breath came out shaky, like the air itself was too much to handle. his hands stayed at her hips, fingers flexing against her like they couldn't decide whether to ground her or let her move.

"we can't.” he managed to say, the words slipping out between kisses that he couldn't seem to stop. the sentence dissolved into a low moan as her lips moved to his jaw, her teeth grazing against his stubble.

she pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, her own clouded and unwavering, her breath warm against his cheek. "we are.”

the words hit him like a match to gasoline, and his restraint shattered in an instant. his hands slid from her hips to her waist, his fingers curling against the thin fabric of her sweater as he pulled her closer, their bodies flush now. their kisses turned hungry, desperate, like both of them had been holding their breath for too long.

her hands tangled in his hair, pulling softly, and his low groan vibrated against her lips as his grip on her tightened. he tilted his head back slightly, giving her room as her mouth trailed along his jawline, her name tumbling from his lips again, this time softer, rougher, almost pleading.

his head hit the couch's armrest as her kisses worked their way back to his lips, her heat shifting over his in a way that made his breath stutter. his hands roamed higher, curling over the curve of her back, holding her like he was afraid she might disappear if he let go.

every instinct told him this was a line they couldn't uncross, but the weight of her, the heat of her, the sound of her soft, hitching breaths—it was enough to unravel him completely.

he moaned her name again, softer, almost like a prayer.

so she kissed him in answer.

his hands tugged at the hem of her sweater, his movements rough but not rushed. the fabric slid over her head, leaving her in just her bra, her skin warm and soft beneath the flickering light of the tv.

"fuck," he breathed, the sound slipping out unbidden as her lips found his neck.

the brush of her tongue sent a shiver down his spine, and when her teeth grazed the sensitive skin just below his ear, his hips bucked instinctively beneath her.

his hands slid up her back, fingers fumbling only briefly before unclasping her bra. the straps fell loose, sliding down her arms as he groaned again, low and guttural, the sound vibrating against her lips.

she rocked her hips against him, the friction sending sparks of heat spiraling through his chest. harry's hands flew to her waist, his grip tight like he needed something to hold onto, something to keep him grounded.

“tell me where you need it, h.” the words slipped between her lips through his like a dare as she kissed him again. her hips kept moving, rocking in a way that made his breath stutter.

harry's head tipped back against the armrest, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment as her words hit him, a moan slipping past his lips, raw and unrestrained. his fingers curled tighter against her waist, his body aching, straining beneath hers.

"fuck—everywhere.” he muttered, his voice shaking, desperate.

she leaned in closer, her breath hot against his ear as she rocked against him again, harder this time, pulling another broken sound from his throat.

harry bucked his hips against her, pressing his hardened cock into her core through the thin layers of their sweatpants. the movement was instinctive, almost helpless, his body speaking the desperation he couldn't put into words anymore.

“harry—” she breathed, her voice catching as she felt him beneath her, hard and wanting.

his eyes fluttered open at the sound of his name, glassy and dark, locking onto hers. there was something unspoken in the way he looked at her, raw and fragile, like she was the only person in the world who could see him like this—needy, exposed, undone.

"you feel so good.” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper as her hands slid up his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles, taut under her touch.

harry let out a broken sound, his lips parting as if he wanted to argue, but all that came out was another moan as she shifted her hips, pressing down against him with just enough pressure to make him gasp.

"let me—“ she whimpered, "let me make you feel good.”

his hands slid back to her waist, trembling slightly as he nodded, his breath hitching when her lips found the sensitive spot beneath his ear again.

he didn't need to say it, not when every touch, every soft sound from his throat spoke volumes. YN could feel it in the way his body moved beneath hers, the way his fingers pressed into her skin like he was afraid to let go.

his touch moved higher, his palms grazing the curve of her shoulders, brushing over the column of her neck, before cupping her jawline with a reverence that made her chest tighten.

his thumbs rested just below her ears, his hands holding her in place like he needed to anchor himself in the moment. "please..." he breathed, the word breaking on his lips in quiet desperation. his voice was shaky, his accent thickened by the weight of it, and she felt the sound reverberate through her, lighting her nerves like a match.

she lifted herself, her knees pressing into the couch cushions as she rose just enough to give him space. her hands rested lightly on his chest, feeling the unsteady rhythm of his heart beneath her fingers.

harry took the opening instinctively, his hips shifting as his hands dropped to his waistband. his movements were clumsy, rushed, but YN didn't move away—didn't look away.

his fingers hooked under the elastic of his sweatpants and boxers, tugging them down just enough to free himself, the fabric bunching at his mid-thigh.

her breath hitched at the sight of him, her body flushing warm as his cock slapped against his naval from freeing himself.

she sat back, her movements quick but deliberate as she tugged her sweatpants and panties down in one smooth motion. the cool air brushed against her bare skin, sending a shiver racing up her spine as she climbed back into place, her knees pressing into the cushions on either side of him.

she lowered herself slowly, the heat of him brushing against her soaked cunt, but just before she could take him fully, his hands found her.

his fingers curled against the flesh of her bum, halting her movements, his grip firm but not forceful.

their eyes met, and she froze at the look in his. it was more than hesitation—it was worry, soft and fragile, barely hidden behind the glassy haze of his need.

he didn't say a word, but she didn't need him to. she knew what he was thinking, what was holding him back.

"i'm on the pill," she whispered, her voice steady but soft, her eyes never leaving his.

his gaze flickered, something uncertain melting away into something deeper, warmer. his grip on her eased, and his hands drifted lower, brushing over the curve of her thighs. his fingers spread wide, settling there, his palms grounding her as he gave the faintest nod.

she let out a shaky breath, her hands cupping the sides of his neck as she sank down onto him.

the stretch stole the air from her lungs, the way her body adjusted to his cock, enveloping him fully.

harry's eyes widened, his lips parting as a low, broken groan spilled out, his fingers tightening against her thighs like he was holding on for dear life.

"that’s good—” he rasped, his voice trembling as his head fell back against the armrest. his chest heaved beneath as her hands drifted lower, his body taut with restraint.

but his eyes—he couldn't tear them away. they followed every curve, every shift of her body as she moved above him. her skin glowed faintly in the flickering light of the tv, her breaths shallow and uneven, her lashes fluttering as she adjusted to him.

she was art, every movement deliberate, every curve of her body a masterpiece he couldn't stop staring at.

"s’good baby, just like that.” he moaned his words in reverence, his voice soft and raw. his hands slid up her thighs, his thumbs brushing over her hips as if he needed to memorize every inch of her.

"you're perfect.” he murmured, the words slipping out like a secret he hadn't meant to share.

her hips stilled for a moment, her gaze meeting his, and her lips curved into the faintest smile.

he wasn't used to being fucked like this—any of it. not the careful way her hands steadied themselves on his chest, not the slow, teasing rhythm she set, not the soft, coaxing words that slipped from her lips.

"your cock is so good, harry.” her voice was low and warm, melting into the quiet. her fingers traced the faint lines of his tattoos, her touch light but grounding.

he let out a shaky exhale, his hands flexing against her thighs, the grip of his fingertips faltering as he fought to hold himself together.

"like that?" she asked softly, her voice catching slightly as she rolled her hips again, watching the way his chest rose and fell in uneven beats beneath her.

his eyes blinked open, dark and unfocused, his gaze locking onto hers like he couldn't find the words.

"fuck—yes.” he breathed finally, the words breaking apart as they left his mouth.

she leaned forward slightly, her hips never losing their rhythm as her lips brushed against the shell of his ear. “tell me what you need,” she whispered, her breath shaky. “i’ll do anything for you.”

his breath hitched, his head tipping to the side as her words sank into him, and his grip tightened on her thighs.

"just... just keep going," he rasped, his voice rough and barely holding together. "don't stop—please.”

she pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, her own soft but blazing with intent as she bounced on his cock.

his jaw clenched, a sharp breath hissing through his teeth, his fingers twitching against her skin. his eyes dropped to her chest, watching the way her tits bounced with each motion, his gaze burning and unashamed.

"yes, baby—fuck.” he muttered under his breath, a furrowed crease cutting deep into his forehead as he tried and failed to keep his composure.

she bit her lip, her hands sliding up to his shoulders as she tilted her hips slightly, drawing a low, guttural sound from him that made heat pool low in her stomach.

his eyebrows knit together in pleasure, strings of whimpers falling from his lips in desperation.

his hands slid higher, curling around her waist as he tried to match her rhythm, but yn was still in control, her movements precise, her focus entirely on him—his body responding to hers like it was made for this.

his lips found her tits, warm and insistent, his teeth grazing the sensitive bud before his tongue soothed it, drawing a sharp moan from her.

YN’s back arched into him instinctively, her movements above him never faltering, her rhythm unrelenting.

his hands slid up her spine, his palms flattening against her back, holding her to him as though he couldn't bear even an inch of distance. each roll of her hips sent a tremor through him, his body taut beneath her, every nerve alive and aching with the intensity of her.

"YN—“ he groaned against her skin, her name breaking on his tongue, caught between a moan and a prayer.

his whimpers melted into low, guttural grunts as her pace quickened, her movements growing more frantic. his toes curled, his heels digging into the couch cushions as he tried to hold on, but the way she moved, the way her cunt clenched around his cock—it was unraveling him completely.

her moans rose higher, sharper, each sound pulling him deeper under her spell. his grip on her tightened, his fingers pressing into her skin as though grounding himself in her was the only thing keeping him tethered.

his chest rose and fell in desperate, ragged breaths, his gaze locking onto her with an intensity that made his vision blur.

her body was mesmerizing—her curves, the way she moved, the sheer determination in her eyes as she took him apart piece by piece.

"m’close, baby—please,” he choked out, his voice cracking as his head fell forward, his curls damp against his forehead.

once her heard her come undone, her breath shuddering as she came all over his cock—he was done for.

his eyes squeezed shut, his head tipping back as his toes curled tighter, his muscles tensing with the force of his release. a low, broken moan ripped from his throat, his body trembling beneath her as he spilled into her.

her hand cupped his face, her thumb brushing away the single tear that slipped down his cheek as she steadied her breathing, her body still moving gently along his length, riding out the final waves of their release together.

his hands lingered on her waist, his thumbs brushing over her skin in slow, absent circles, as though letting go wasn’t an option. his gaze flickered to her lips, then back to her eyes, soft and unguarded in the quiet aftermath.

she stayed perched in his lap, her body warm and bare against his, her breathing steadying as her fingertips traced the lines of his face. the bridge of his nose. the sharp curve of his cupid’s bow. the faint stubble along his jawline that scratched softly beneath her touch.

her hands drifted lower, finding his, their size so much larger in hers. the bruises on his knuckles were still deep, fading but stubborn, the purple-yellow marks a silent story she didn’t yet know.

she took his hand carefully, her fingers brushing over the tender skin as if she could will the pain away with her touch. harry let her, his shoulders sinking, his chest rising with a soft, uneven breath.

“you make it better.” he murmured, his voice low, almost hesitant, like the words might shatter if he said them too loudly.

she glanced up, her brow furrowing slightly. “your hands?”

he shook his head, his curls falling slightly over his forehead as he pulled his hands from hers, but only to raise them to her face.

his palms cupped her cheeks, his fingers threading gently through her hair, holding her like she was the only thing tethering him to the world. “life,” he breathed, his green eyes locked onto hers. “you make all of its bullshit better.”

her breath hitched, her hands lifting instinctively to cover his, keeping him there as if to say she wasn’t going anywhere.

they stayed like that, suspended in the stillness of the room, their bodies bare and vulnerable but safe. harry’s thumbs brushed softly against her cheeks, his lips parting as his eyes softened even further.

“my heart is yours.” he confessed, the words simple but heavy, his voice trembling slightly at the edges.

YN’s chest tightened, the weight of his words sinking deep. she knew what he meant—he didn’t need to say i love you outright. it was there in the way he looked at her, the way he touched her, the way he couldn’t seem to let her go.

“as mine is yours.” she whispered, “every beat belongs to you.”

the corners of his mouth lifted, the faintest trace of a smile breaking through the intensity of the moment.

they stayed like that, connected, their foreheads brushing as the world outside fell away. they didn’t need more words, not now. it was enough—more than enough—to just be.

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