#also this is not my first oc for this game who is paired with a mer | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lovieku · 4 days ago

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MOTHERFUCKIN’ TRAIN WRECK! ⋆ 정국

𐙚 if you were my boyfriend… and you were my girlfriend…

when renowned fuckboy jeon jeongguk catches feelings, he loses his mind. only when it comes to you, though.

based on this ask

from the grande series ୨ৎ

pairing: fuckboy!jk x fem!reader

genre: fwb au

warnings: small smutty moments (cunnilingus, fingering, tiny boob play), angst, fluffi maybe idk, whipped and jelly koo, ft. namjoon!!!, oblivious oc, deep down she feels it too but jk is simply too much of a simp so it doesn’t look like it at first, he’s also so petty and sassy, jokes about ending it if oc doesn’t give him a chance </3, he’s just a little shit, peep the lyrics from boyfriend hehe, oh btw happy ending!!!

word count: 18k

a/n: wowww i’m so sorry for this pile of nonsense, it’s so bad i vomited a little in my mouth. i hate every single thing about it but i didn’t wanna leave you guys starved. i love u sm and thank u for the support, but u’re allowed to leave hate asks for what u’re about to read rn ❤️ also i’m SO SORRY for being unable to write a jungkook who isn’t a simp

🏷️ perm taglist: @ceellliiinee @jaytheatiny @dolligguk @luvismenu @theyloveyams @stillwjk-channie-lixie @bookstoread199 @girlygguk @vieviela @myngiii @angelxkoo @nnybtitts08 @mpbrinkss @https-mei @lyywst @mhdelu @apobangpogirlyyy @khadeeeeej @awrkive

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Jeongguk was only supposed to clean you up. That’s what he calls it when his angelic face finds its place between your spread legs, sinful eyes locking with yours, paired with a smirk you can hardly ever survive.

After all, he’s a man of simple devices. Why bother fetching a towel when he can use his own mouth? When he can let his tongue lap at your juices, slurp every last trace, have an excuse to taste you again, and again, and again?

It’s barely even effective as a way to clean you up, of drying the slick mess that sticks to your inner thighs from cumming three times under his merciless doings— you both know that. Then, how does he expect you not to break a fourth when he runs his wet muscle so torturously along your slit, getting ever more soaked?

Jeongguk is not really trying to end the night. He’s drawing it out. He already had you unraveling in phases— first on his fingers, then all over his cupid lips, ending with you convulsating just another time around his thick length.

It was rough, left purplish marks of his harsh hold digging into your sides, a faint trace of a forbidden hickey just under your collarbones, where you can easily hide it.

In all fairness, he couldn’t help it.

It was you who provoked him. You always do, getting under his skin, teasing him about his skills, downgrading them with playful indifference and nothing more than a meh, as Jeongguk rasps in your ear, clearly affected by your session of foreplay when asking, “Does this make you feel good?”

You’ll be sent straight to hell for lying like that, with seemingly no remorse, but you’re unable to resist the dangerous game and the familiar thrill that comes from it. Nothing compares to the dark wave that takes over his hooded eyes, his motions ever more intentional, almost overwhelming.

He moves to prove something to you, to show you there’s no one quite like him, even with all the guys in your phone, on your lips, inside your sheets.

Jeongguk is your fuckbuddy, and your friend on top of the rest. So, when he first laid his lips on yours, the bottom line plumper than his cupid’s bow, it had taken a great amount of alcohol to flow through both of your veins and blur the lines, let instinct take over.

From there, it was like you couldn’t help yourselves; the physical attraction was undeniable, it’s what brought you here in between the mess of his bed. If you ignore the silly crush you had on him during the first year of college, this was perfect.

Your fuckbuddy contract (Jeongguk hates calling you that, he prefers my friend who makes me cum a lot) includes a heavy emphasis on a no-strings-attached relationship, that can be interrupted whenever one of the two feels uncomfortable, and that should not come before your friendship. On top of all, you both are not exclusive. No commitment, no jealousy. You’re perfectly free of meeting other people, fucking other people. Unless you’re going to date one of those, of course. Then, bye-bye friend who makes me cum a lot.

These rules were established almost a year ago, after your hands couldn’t help themselves from roaming hastily all over his body, pulling him impossibly closer. It was the second time you allowed yourself to feel him, following the night when he initiated things under the clouded lights of a club.

You couldn’t help it. You had been thinking of that moment for weeks now, and when you were left alone with him in his dorm room, pulse racing, it’s all your thoughts were reduced to. Kiss him, kiss him, fuck him.

You felt guilty. A friend shouldn’t be thinking of another friend like you were about Jeongguk. Especially after you promised yourself you wouldn’t let your buried crush resurface and ruin what you had built— even if the memory of that infatuation is honestly just laughable now (you would never think of dating him, pft).

But Jeongguk, ever the gentlest when it comes to you, assured you it was okay to feel as you did, because he felt it too. And was dying to touch you again. His words, not yours.

It’s only sexual. A casual, sexual relationship. Two friends who happen to find each other irresistible.

So when he reacts with a flash of competitiveness at the mere suggestion he might not be the best you’ve ever had, it’s… weird, the feeling that overcomes you. You acknowledge it for a split second, as if you’re searching to name that something inside you stirring, but before you can, it seems to make you fall apart immediately, your grip tighter, back arched, moans high-pitched.

He basks in his silent victory, in the factual demonstration that he in fact can’t be compared to all your other guys.

Except, there’s actually no other guys.

Back when this friends-with-benefits arrangement first started, you were occasionally fooling around with an older guy from campus named Mingyu. Jeongguk knew him, given that they’re in the same photography class. He was also aware of your casual fling with him. And yet, Jeongguk still kissed you. Actually, did so much more than just that.

Either way, the line has always been clear: he has no right to question who you spend time with and what you engage in, Jeongguk isn’t a saint either.

You love him, you truly do. With time, he has become one of your closest friends, and you honestly can’t see yourself getting through college without him.

But there’s no denying the fuckboy allegations, the ones that are constantly thrown at him all around campus. He is a fuckboy. It must be his easy charm, flirting as natural as breathing, tripping out his tongue with seemingly not much thought. At some point, the majority of the girls in your campus got to have their moment with Jeongguk, either because of mindless teasing or one night stands, occasionally turning into casual arrangements.

You have accepted it as part of who he is. You know his fuckboy habits haven’t magically changed when you two started fucking. He doesn’t really spend much time talking about it with you, occasionally mentioning his doings every now and then, but you don’t need to know; his friends and the people whispering in hallways and lecture halls fill in the blanks.

That is exactly why you’ve let Jeongguk believe that your sexual life is equally as busy, floods of boys from your inbox to your sheets, as if you aren’t too much of a hopeless romantic to even think of anything that isn’t exclusively monogamous.

But this isn’t the case. Jeongguk isn’t yours, you aren’t his. It’s just about sex, and you’ve accepted that. You don’t want anything more from him. You tell yourself the only reason you’re not seeing anyone else is that the idea of it makes you uneasy. That you’re more than satisfied with Jeongguk being your friend-turned-into-fuckbuddy, and you don’t need other ones.

Jeongguk is more than enough. Oh, he is.

“Fuck, Gguk. You’re gonna make me cum— Ah, shit— again.”

Your head is thrown back in his pillow, legs weakly tightening around his head nestled so close to your core, and it’s clear his goal has completely shifted from getting you clean and neat when the tip of his tongue moves to flicker on your sensitive nub, relentlessly abusing it with casual kissing and sucking.

He opens his mouth to take more of you, his wet muscle tracing your slit and teasing your entrance for— sadly —the shortest second, and the way he hums approvingly against you brings you even closer to the breaking point.

You’re a fragile mess, overstimulated from the previous orgasms but desperate to chase yet another climax, his hands roaming up to find your breast only spurring you further.

Jeongguk knows you by now, and is aware of all the subtle gestures that make you come undone under him. He knows just what to do to push you over the edge, and when to do it exactly.

You’re a sucker for dirty talk and praise, and occasionally, when the ideal situation comes, you love being degraded. It’s a side of you that only ever arises during sex, mind hazed and irrational, the delirious need for release clouding all your usually composed senses.

At first, he teased you for it. Not because he’s not as much of a fan as you are of talking during sex, but because he never pictured you to be the loud type. And you truly are.

Jeongguk pinches your nipples in hopes of you getting the message and lowering your volume, but it only makes you whine higher, your moans surely not going unnoticed by the other students in the dorm.

It can only be worse when he decides to speak against you, his voice a low, almost unintelligible growl, “Pussy’s so fuckin’ good. All mine, fuck. Want to taste your cum once again, c’mon babe. Give it to me.”

And you, always obliging and well-behaved, let go for a fourth time, hips furiously rutting against his face, his words making your surroundings spin, the way his nose would brush your sensitive nub having your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Your gasp is strained when he retreats with one last wet stripe between your puffy lips, sealing the orgasm with a kiss on your clit, and when he finds your face again there’s a cockish grin spreading across his, chin coated with your juices.

He immediately meets your mouth then, sharing your own taste, and you both moan shamelessly at the action.

Jeongguk collapses next to you, his body warm and relaxed, pulling you closer by your waist and almost making you straddle him with the force of his hold. He sighs into your hair, kissing the root of it, “You did amazing for me, pretty girl.”

A pleasant shiver runs down your spine at the praise and the pet name rolling off his tongue with ease. It’s ridiculous.

With your cheek pressed against his chest, you glance up at him through your lashes and a lazy smile threatens to take over your face, but your playful pout is more prominent, almost convincing, “I’m never letting you do that trick on me again. Next time, I’m just going to take a shower like a normal person.”

The laugh he lets out is rich and unguarded, his chest rumbling under your ear, and it makes you pull away with a mock glare, brows knitted together as you swat at his toned stomach, “Don’t laugh. I hated that.”

His dark eyes soften as they dance with amusement, the corners crinkling, and he hums, going along with your blatant lie from the way your lips struggle to contain a grin, “Oh, absolutely. You were screaming in horror, couldn’t stand it.”

“Whatever,” you mutter incoherently, standing up to escape from the inevitable loss. The slick between your thighs reminds you of why you need that shower in the first place, causing you to awkwardly wobble your way to his bathroom.

Jeongguk watches you with a lopsided smirk, stretched out on the bed, his brown hair a messy halo on the pillow, and it completes the concept he goes perfectly with, the one of a devil dressed up as an angel, even more when his voice drips with faux desperation, “Hey, come back. I need my cuddles.”

“You’ll live,” you toss back before pulling the door shut behind you and stepping into the warm embrace of the shower. The hot water stings at first, then soothes you, sliding down your skin.

Jeongguk already knows the outcome of what he’s about to do isn’t going to turn in his favor, but he tries his luck regardless, standing up hastily and limply making his way to his bathroom door.

He only knocks twice, then puts on his best begging voice, talking loud enough to be heard over the shower, “Toots?”

“No!”

A scoff filters through the steamy air, followed by the unmistakable creak of the door handle as he steps inside. He’s relentless, voices his thoughts with the kind of logic only he would find convincing, “C’mon, we’ll save water!”

You stand with your back to him, his body wash traveling down your skin in soap bubbles, the scent filling the air, and you let your shoulders shrug. You don’t turn around. Number one, because you’ll give in. Number two, because you can hear the pout on his lips, and that’s the reason for number one.

You try your best to sound annoyed, “Jeongguk, just leave. You don’t even pay for it.”

“Our poor earth pays for it,” he quips, stepping further into the cramped space, body still bare, and that’s maybe a number three for you, “Because you wanna be so unfair to your best friend and leave him out in the cold.”

“You’re not my best friend.”

His gasp is dramatic, you even hear it echo through the tiny room, and you fight hard to contain the giggle locked inside you, but it escapes in the shape of a snort, which you quickly try to conceal by clearing your throat. You even further go with the lie, “You heard me.”

“Unbelievable. I’m kicking you out the second you’re done here,” he tries his best menacing tone, the threat barely harsh and effective, closing the door behind his back with an exaggerated thump, followed by unintelligible grumbling.

You take your sweet time in his now steamy bathroom. You shampoo twice, deliberately squeezing out a generous amount of his own fancy product in your palm, making sure the squeak of the bottle is heard through the door so he knows you’re helping yourself. His high-quality hair dryer blasts warm air over your damp hair until it’s only mildly wet. And you even rummage around his cabinet, indulging in his collection of expensive skincare creams. These little luxuries are exactly why you never pass a single occasion to shower over at his dorm room.

And the second you’re done in there, he doesn’t kick you out like he threatened. It takes a moment for him to move his attention from his phone to your figure, wrapped around in his fluffy robe, and he doesn’t even try to keep up the menacing act. Still spread on his ruined bed, his furrowed brows relax, and his lips break into a grin. He scans your face, then giggles, “You’ve got a massive pimple on your forehead.”

“Fuck you. I’m taking one of your hoodies.”

“It’s called borrowing,” even in the midst of checking out your freshly-washed naked body, now being stripped from his bathrobe, he’s still committed to the game of banter you two always play.

“It’s not if I’m not giving it back,” you counter, voice muffled by the fabric of one of his many black sweatshirts you’re already pulling over your head, quickly shuffling into your jeans, helping them up with some small hops that make him grin.

He doesn’t seem bothered by your comeback, too used to losing his own clothes to your closet; rather, he watches you move with what seems like hurry around his dimly lit room. He shifts higher, letting the sheets slip to reveal his still bare, and slightly sweaty torso, “Wanna hang out together at the party tomorrow?”

”Hmm, I’ll just see you there,” you don’t pay him much attention, using your phone camera as a mirror to wipe away any smudged mascara under your eyes. “I’ve already got a partner, actually.”

Jeongguk fully sits up now, vision a little blurry from the hasty and sudden movement, phone forgotten, “A partner?”

The way you casually let a smile tug at your lips while talking about a man is new, “Yeah. A guy from my English class asked me to go with him. He’s pretty cute.”

You’re too busy shoving your belongings in your bag and mentally cataloging every single item to notice the expression your best friend is currently sporting, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. Tank top, makeup, laptop… where the fuck is— oh, here. Lip balm. What else?

Jeongguk thinks you’re forgetting something deathly important. A fucking explanation, maybe? He’s known you to occasionally fool around with random guys, but he thought it was just that. Occasional and random. When did it get to having a partner? That sounds silly. Or maybe a little too formal, a little too real. What the fuck does having a partner even entail?

You’re blissfully unaware of the stubborn storm taking over Jeongguk’s thoughts, especially because you’re not exactly sparing him a second glance, moving with single-minded focus, hurrying to leave. Because apparently it’s so bad to want to spend the night with your best friend. Share a bed, watch a movie, talk gossip (it’s been so long since you’ve updated him the way only you can about the latest campus stories, ugh). Amazing, yes, that’s totally fine with Jeongguk.

And he does manage to sound unbothered, “What’s his name?”

“Namjoon.”

Jeongguk focuses on your slim fingers slipping your lip balm into the front pocket of your bag, syllabes leaving his lips in a slow mumble, “Ah, Namjoon. I know him. I guess.”

Fucking Kim Namjoon. Of course he knows him. 6 feet tall, polite, model student Kim Namjoon. Shit. Great choice. No, really, he’s the perfect catch.

“Hm? Well, I think he’s very nice. And hot as fuck.”

He grimaces, “Gross.”

“You’re one to talk,” pulling the hood over your head, you finally meet his eyes. You’re completely oblivious to the thoughts gnawing at him, so you think his disappointment is only caused by your next words, “I should get going now.”

“What? You’re not staying over for dinner?” The way he looks up at you with doe, puppy-dog eyes almost makes you trip on your own resolution, but you only ruffle his hair from your stance next to his bed, hoping the small action is enough to satisfy your hunger. Not for dinner.

“Nah, sorry Gguk. Gotta get up early for English class.”

He scoffs, moving stubbornly from your soothing touch, “Sure. English class with Joohyuk.”

“…Namjoon.”

“Right, that’s what I said. Namsun.”

You raise an eyebrow, half-laughing, “No, it’s Namjoon.”

“Namgi.”

“Namjoon.”

“Whatever, don’t care.” The words have barely any space to roll out through his pout, and along with his petty little slip-ups it’s the most childish act you’ve seen him pull so far. To be completely honest, he seems to break a new record every other day.

You fight the urge to roll your gaze at the ceiling, finding it impossible to deal with pouty, hungry and cuddle-starved Jeongguk. You sigh, muttering, “Insufferable.”

“Give me a kiss, brat.”

The teasing comes so naturally that for a second you don’t ponder on the demand being something a normal friend wouldn’t exactly ask. But it isn’t one you’ll deny.

You bend down to meet him as easily as he let the request out, muttering a playful Oh, I’m the brat now? before brushing his pushed lips with yours in a sweet, short kiss, enough to draw a soft sigh from both of you. You hum against it, voice warm with something that contradicts your words entirely, “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“Sure,” rolling your eyes, you grant his cocky figure that little win, too tired to put up a fight, even if you almost rethink it when he confidently leans back against the pillows, smirking up at you. You decide to cut it short, it’s for the best, throwing your bag over your shoulder as well as one last look at him, before readying yourself for the walk of shame through his frat.

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Namjoon is, by all standards, the perfect guy. He’s genuine, smiles sweetly with his dimples showing and his eyes crinkling into crescents that make him seem both wise and youthful.

Careful, even protective over you, making sure you’re comfortable. With your drink, with your seat, with your conversation.

Almost too attentive, which should calm your nerves, but instead you feel yourself unable to fully let go. Open up to him like he’s doing with you, like you think you want to do.

You’re not sure. You can’t feel that mysterious spark everybody talks about. That spark Jeongguk admitted he’s never felt with anyone so far, no matter the number of girls he’s been with. The one he’s confessed he’s desperate to feel. The one you hope he can find.

Wait, why are you thinking about Jeongguk?

Said boy has yet to acknowledge you, standing across from you in the crowded living room of your mutual friend’s house. Each weekend, the same ritual brings you back here, whenever Taehyung’s parents head off for one of their rich-people, luxurious trips. The space is familiar, a backdrop to countless parties, all too often ending in someone’s drunken confessions and stolen kisses that’d become the talk of campus until the next party came around.

As tradition would want, with the clock ticking its way past midnight, you’d be drunk out of your mind already. Tonight, however, you’re not even sure you want to be here.

Namjoon is keeping close tabs on your drinks, monitoring each glass you reach for, and you know he means well; ordinarily, you’d find it sweet, endearing even. But it only seems to heighten your anxiety now. It just reminds you of how out of place this whole thing feels. You want to drown your awkwardness in a wave of liquid courage, and the irony isn’t lost on you: the very reason why you’re nervous is keeping you from numbing it.

Namjoon makes you way too aware of yourself. You wish your first proper hang out wasn’t at a filthy frat party, the blasting music causing you both to lean into each other to make conversation. The proximity makes your palms disgustingly clammy, and you hope he doesn’t reach for your hand.

You also think this isn’t the type of scenario that best suits Namjoon. You would have loved to be with him somewhere softer, with less noise and more light, talking over coffee instead of loud techno, his poetic speech lulling you into infatuation. Maybe then, this would have gone like you had imagined it might. Like you wanted it to go, just to prove something to yourself. You’re still not sure what exactly.

But this house — this party — is a natural habitat for people like Jeongguk. It’s a playground he navigates with ease, his charisma amplified by the darkened rooms and faint cigarette smoke that seems to follow him, just like everyone around him. They exist solely to orbit his mood.

It’s as he saunters back inside after yet another smoke break that you spot him again, his focus entirely on whatever girl is currently at his side. With Namjoon leaving to grab a drink for the two of you to share, you take the short moment to be a shameless creep and study your friend’s movements from the other side of the room.

You can’t help but feel a sting of irritation. Jeongguk is fully aware you’re here. You’d texted him earlier, just something casual to say you’d arrived, maybe even expecting him to meet you or give you a quick wave. Instead, there’d been no reply.

Just like the TikToks you’d sent last night, after you told him you wouldn’t be staying over at his, that also went ignored. You didn’t think too much of it, figured it was probably one of his petty acts. You aren’t any better: it’s not like you’ll go up to him to say hi, not after he ignored you. Those videos were funny, too. He’s the one missing out.

But now, your eyes squinted to try and get the best possible view on each detail of the scene in front of you, what you notice is nothing about him and everything about who he’s currently spending the time he could have used to acknowledge you with.

It’s not just whatever girl. It’s Haeun.

You haven’t seen them hanging out together in what feels like months, and frankly, you’re thrown. Maybe that’s also the reason why he suddenly had no time for you. You scoff.

You’re just confused, really. Jeongguk didn’t mention a thing about her, and it’s not like he’s ever kept his hookups or flings a secret. But Haeun was never just that. She was the one he seemed almost ready to get in his first serious relationship with, the one girl you thought could make him forget all about his usual habits.

When Jeongguk had first started hanging out with Haeun, he’d seemed uncharacteristically interested. You naturally found yourself rooting for him, hoping he’d take a leap and start something real after many failed attempts.

At that point, your casual arrangement with him had been going on for a while, but you knew it wasn’t built to last. You’d expected it to end sooner rather than later, and you were okay with that. You just wanted him to be happy with himself and his choices.

But on the night he was supposed to take Haeun out on a date, the one that could have changed everything, it’s like a magic vacuum turned on and sucked all his progress away. He’d shown up in front of your door instead. No explanations, no details about what had happened; he didn’t want to talk. He only wanted to be near you and sink into silence.

That night you laid next to him, his head on you, hair sprawled out on your stomach, and said absolutely nothing.

Since then, he hadn’t mentioned Haeun at all, and you’d assumed it was over. The right side of your brain was irrationally glad for that, greedily geeking at the prospect of still getting to keep Jeongguk close in ways that go over a simple friendship. In ways that have you thanking God for not taking your friend’s sex skills away from you; in ways that have your nose scrunching whenever he leaves small, delicate pecks on the side of your neck as you watch a movie cuddled in his embrace. If he had decided to go on that date, you would be denied all of this luxury.

The left side of your brain is a little less greedy, a little more rational. The half of your mind responsible for keeping some logic instilled in you even thought it could have been a good thing for Jeongguk to experience a different side of relationships.

You’ve always sensed there to be deeper reasons beneath Jeongguk’s carefree front. You’ve watched him jump from girl to girl, dip in and out of flings with seemingly no thought, as if he’s not trying to bury issues he should find a different answer for, to avoid whatever insecurities he’s run too far away from to face.

He’s never had to spell it out for you. You never pressed him on the topic either. And you think he’s grateful for it, for your silence that offers him the stability he won’t admit he needs, for simply staying and understanding. For allowing him to be vulnerable.

You wish you could give him more than that quiet comfort. Wonder if you should try your luck and push him to see that he does deserve something real— more than the distractions he uses to keep his fears at bay.

Jeongguk would make an incredible boyfriend. He always spots the small details, the slight changes in your mood, and he picks them up before you can even notice yourself, caring in a silent way that doesn't go unnoticed. Not by you.

It’s easy to imagine him being the kind of partner who’d cater to his girl’s needs effortlessly, even in quiet, even if hidden. You know he could be that person if he could just let anyone in beyond sex. When he’ll find the one, it’ll be clear it’s all he was made for.

Right now though, if anyone were to ask you that, you’d advise them to just go and look for another one, because he’s a little, lying piece of shit. You’re just a tad bit upset about it, if your crossed arms and furrowed brows are anything to go by.

You don’t understand why he’s now there, standing next to the girl he himself stood up, the one he looked ready to fix everything for, and then wasn’t. Leaning in close as if nothing had ever happened.

Why couldn’t he tell you, at least give you a heads-up if he was reconnecting with her? You know it shouldn’t bother you as much as it does, but the fact that he’s hiding it stings. Are you overthinking this?

When he lifts his head from her ear and scans the room, his eyes landing right on yours for a brief second just to look away, you don’t think you are. His attention shifts back to Haeun as if he hadn’t seen you at all. What the fuck?

You question what’s the point of having eyes to see when you are now forced to witness Jeongguk leaving the room with Haeun hanging her draggy weight on his arm, his smile cockish as he helps her up by her waist, fingers digging dangerously close to the curve of her perfectly shaped peach.

Their chemistry is undeniable, hands finding skin with unpracticed ease. It must be the way Jeongguk can effortlessly work his charm with any girl he deems attractive enough to fuck, his smirk and the way he lets his nose scrunch almost timidly, as if you can’t see right through him, making women potty in his sculpted hands.

The prospect of your best friend getting laid by the girl he was almost ready to change it all for should make you happy. Smile, at least.

Instead, you frown, mindlessly taking long sips from the straw in your glass and letting it stir your too watered-down cocktail that lacks any real flavor. You don’t even try to find answers as to how another drink landed right on the counter you rest your back on, but you’re glad for it.

You’re more upset at the fact that he decided not to tell you anything. You would have helped him through it, supported him, advised him on what to do, how to move in such a situation. But even if he didn’t need any of this, you would have appreciated just knowing. From him.

The ways in which the two of you are intertwined right at this moment don’t exactly allow him to completely leave you unaware of his actions. It’s not fair.

But then, are you even supposed to feel like this in the first place? Is only sex supposed to have this impact on you? Is even the smallest cell in his brain producing a thought that might take him back to you, and could it compare to a third of what you think and feel?

Does he not get that tingly sensation with you, ‘cause he’s used to it? ‘Cause you’re nothing too different nor special from all the choice he has laid at his feet, nothing out of the usual routine?

A gentle hand on your arm jolts you out of your thoughts. The touch is delicate, but the way it pulls you from your spiral is rough, making you stumble on the already wobbly stool you’re sitting on. When you look to your side, Namjoon meets you with a warm smile.

You hadn’t even noticed him being back next to you, and you figure that’s probably how that drink found its way in your hands. You’re a deer caught in headlights as you look at him, then down at the almost empty glass, then back at the boy. Your eyes widen impossibly more, and you struggle with finding a louder volume to your voice, almost fading with the music, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to finish this all by myself.”

You remember him saying he’d get a drink for the two of you to share before leaving you with your haunting thoughts. He just laughs in a way that should soothe your nerves, but it doesn’t, “It’s okay. You look like you needed it. I’m getting another one for me and catching up with some of my friends over there. I’ll be back in a bit, alright?”

“Yeah, totally. No problem,” your words roll out your tongue in a slurred hurry, face already turning to the opposite side of the room, and you’re not even sure what you’re agreeing on. You just feel Namjoon slip away from the seat next to yours again.

The brief interaction was enough for Jeongguk to have time to completely disappear from your strict observing, and just like the boy who should have had your undivided attention tonight, he equally slips away. From your vision, from the party. And from you. He’s with Haeun now, after all. And you’re alone.

Being truthful, Jeongguk is once again slipping away from his problems only. He doesn’t know how he ended up with Haeun by his side, but when he found your big, confused eyes in the midst of what should have been his escape for the night, he thinks he could name a few reasons.

It’s suffocating, the grip you have on him. He can almost feel one of your slim, delicate hands around his throat. He’s a dirty little sadist, of course he enjoys the pain. But he shouldn’t, so he runs from it until his back hits the wall, and the hold only gets tighter.

There’s nothing to do but face the truth. And you’re in front of him, eyes lost and inviting him to tell you. What should be easy for him to say, what he owes you. But the words get stuck in his throat, right where you’re pressing, and he feels like he might stop breathing.

He could die like this, with your narrowed orbs pitying him, and he badly wishes you would call him a coward. The hold is just enough to hurt him, not to make him lose his senses; if anything, it only makes his head spin around the one thought he wants to avoid. You.

With the quickest distraction he could get his hands on, he keeps adding to it: Haeun clinging to his side, he steps out the packed room to light the nth cigarette, the smoke clouding his vision and making the image of you fade from behind his eyelids. You release your hand from him and disappear. He almost whines. He misses you already. But the faint ache is a reminder.

Instead, in front of him is the only girl he should have truly avoided. Haeun is another reminder. Not because she looks similar to you, you’re way prettier. You’re beautiful.

No, it’s just because he remembers Haeun being his first victim, using her to bury something stronger growing inside him. But it didn’t work then, and it doesn’t work now.

She’s the only girl he tried his luck with to avoid his now unavoidable feelings for you. Then, he physically couldn’t touch another woman beside you. So he started flirting with more cigarettes and alcohol. Maybe some joints then and there.

Jeongguk would love to know why he prefers destroying himself rather than just be the confident man he lets everyone else think he is, go up to you and be honest, like you make it so easy for him to be. The fact that it almost slipped out of him more than a couple times scares him.

It shouldn’t. He wants to fall into that soothing caress, but could he even handle the possibility of you simply, and rightfully if you deemed it the correct choice, rejecting him?

The answer is no. He can’t afford losing your touch on him, your lashes fluttering when you look up at him, your fingers tracing secret maps on his back. He wonders if you’re outlining the safest ways for him to escape from the maze he himself created, of which he forgot the exit to.

With Haeun pressing herself to his side, he thinks he’d rather stay trapped there at this point. A maze built by lies, letting you believe he’s fucking other girls on the side when he feels sickened just by the thought of it, his hand now coming up to push the girl back to a safe distance. Built by insecurities, preferring having you think that you’re simply one of the many he has when he firmly believes you’re the only one that the universe has especially assigned him to.

It’s making him lose his mind, while you live unaware, free from the truth. He’s sure in the stretch that went from yesterday, when you told him about your fucking partner, and tonight, seeing you so close to said partner’s face, your dress custom-made by the hands of every angel populating heaven, Jeongguk developed some kind of clinical illness. The flame of jealousy in his toned tummy has eaten him whole.

And he feels slightly ashamed of himself knowing this is how he found himself circling back to his first poor attempt at running away from you, in the form of a short girl, her eyes now questioning him just like yours had done earlier. Haeun furrows her brows, “Are you seriously doing this again?”

Jeongguk sighs, glancing away to take a long drag from his cigarette that fills his lungs and almost aches. He avoids the eye contact that would be needed for a conversation like the one he’s forced to have — one that wouldn’t have occured in the first place if he could just be a normal person — instead he looks back to the room through the glass doors, “I’m sorry, Hae. I— I can’t do this—“

“Yo, Gguk. You need to come with me now. ___ is throwing up in the bathroom.”

It’s Taehyung sliding the glass door open with more force than what he usually puts, and right now nobody would tell he’s the same one always advising his friends to be delicate with it. The look on his face is panicked and it quickly reflects in Jeongguk’s eyes, flickering between his friend and Haeun.

Next, his reflexes are quicker. He steps inside the house, skipping past Taehyung and the flood of college students dancing their Friday away to Usher and seemingly not caring about the urgency written all over his expression.

He makes it to the bathroom where people have started to crowd around as if lining up to an unmissable show, and he doesn’t care if his pushes are too rough as he makes his way through.

You’re quite literally hugging the toilet, your face one with the lid as a few girls try and help you with your hair. The moment they see Jeongguk, it’s like they know he’s the one that you need, that he’s finally here and you’re in good hands. He shoots them a quick nod as they step aside and then, he’s immediately crouching next to you, gently gathering your long locks into his fist.

He moves some stray strands behind your ears while you keep letting it all out, and as much as his broad back is enough to hide you from watchful eyes, he can still hear murmurs from onlookers.

It’s as Jeongguk is debating whether he should cuss them out or keep his attention on you that Taehyung comes to promptly clear the crowd, closing the bathroom door behind him only after making sure his friend doesn’t need any more help.

Jeongguk appreciates the gesture, knowing how overwhelmed you can get in these scenarios with too many people around. Although, no matter how calm he appears for your sake, his heart races even as you seem to settle and sit on the tiled floor, your back resting against the cool wall.

You gulp down a few times, squeezing your eyes to try and ground yourself, the way you can feel Jeongguk’s hand hold the side of your leg, his thumb delicately brushing the inside of your thigh, definitely helping.

“Toots,” he whispers, face close to your own, “Hey, doll. You’re okay now, hm? What happened?” His voice is low, slow, almost scared of flowing past his lips.

When you open your eyes he’s directly in front of you, squatting down to stay on your level, and his brows are drawn high in worry.

You sniff, your voice still rough from the scratching on your throat, “Fucking— Jimin. I met him in the kitchen and we mixed too much shit together—“

“Weren’t you with Kim Namjoon?” Jeongguk interrupts you, both his tone and the way his eyebrows now dip inquisitive.

You shrug, looking down at your fingers fidgeting, “Dunno. Why the fuck am I still not sober,” the way you tone the question doesn’t make it sound like one, and you end up giggling at yourself, hiccuping in the process.

Jeongguk sighs, unconsciously tightening his hold around your leg, his fingers digging and making you whimper subtly. He notices, soothing the skin only to take both his hands to scoop you up by your armpits, lifting both your bodies on your feet.

You yelp, throwing your weight on him with another one of your senseless chuckles, looking up at his bothered face through your lashes. He straightens your posture with wide palms on your waist, throwing one of your arms around his shoulders and causing you to step out of the small room on your tiptoes. He grumbles, “I’m taking you back to the dorm now. And we’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

“Talk about what?”

“Namjoon.”

You stay quiet as the both of you, your body snug against his, walk through the party and out the house to reach Jeongguk’s car. Your thoughts are sluggish, failing to grasp why he’d even want to talk about Namjoon. Isn’t he just a nice guy? You’re more concerned with Jeongguk’s seemingly irked tone and the distressed way his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek.

A soft, involuntary whine escapes you when you think you might be the reason for that, shuffling yourself closer into his warmth, but the contact is brief as he gently settles you into the passenger seat and clicks the belt, then he closes your door and circles the car to the driver’s side.

Awkward. The only sound that can be heard is the soft hum of the engine, beside the fuzzy buzz in your ears. You feel laughter bubbling up in your chest but you hold it there, turning to study Jeongguk’s side profile. Inhaling, you start, “Can you— can I put on—”

“No.”

Your smile falters, “What? C’mon, give me the aux.”

“The last thing I want right now is to listen to those songs.”

Any previous tipsy instinct that made you want to laugh at the situation fade with his words and the way his grip on the steering wheel says more than what he’s letting on. You’re hazy, but his clenched jaw and laser focus on the road make you sit up straighter, adjusting your slouched posture and the skirt of your dress with it, pulling it further down your thighs.

The tension coming off him feels so heavy that it leads to irrational, childish tears pricking your eyes, and you sound defeated when you whisper, “Are you mad at me?”

He brakes a little too hard at the red light, and you both lurch slightly forward. Jeongguk seems to realize just now that he’s unfairly taking his anger out on you, and the way you let out the question in the smallest voice makes his heart speed up, turning to you with apprehension, “No, toots. No, why would I be? I’m mad at that fucker.”

“He was just talking with some of his—”

“He left you alone. He was supposed to take care of you. Not let you get fucking wasted.”

Jeongguk sounds final, his tone allowing no more condoning nor excuses for the tall guy now left behind you, back at the party. But you don’t seem to focus too much on the meaning of his words, rather you bask in the consequences of them. He’s not upset with you!

That spurs you to contradict him further, this time on the accusation he threw at you, but it’s less than credible when you say it through a sheepish smile that unconsciously made its way on your lips at the protective edge to his tone, “I’m not fucking wasted.”

Jeongguk only sighs, but you can see him visibly relax, shoulders going down and leaning against the back of his seat, right hand coming to pat your bare knee with a small smile on his pierced lips.

You share a look that fully sobers you up only to get you high all over again off his doe eyes, the artificial lights dotting a universe of their own in those orbs, undiscovered galaxies and planets inviting you to move there, even with no water, no oxygen, no way of surviving.

When the soft hue of the red light reflecting on the side of your face morphs to green, he moves his attention back on the road, taking his hand with it to shift gears. Then, he concedes, “Put on the playlist.”

You blink, a little taken aback by his sudden shift in mood, but just as quickly you recover. Your brain seems to be able to focus on one thing at a time either way, so you don’t ponder on your insides collectively moving at the way he looked at you and instead reach for the aux cord, fingers tapping on your phone screen absentmindedly, with a conscience of their own.

Music interrupts the quiet, and you can’t help but join, “The night we met I knew I, needed you so. And if I had the chance I’d, never let you go. Sing with me!”

Jeongguk breaks into a grin, no matter how much he fights it, “You’re so fucking wasted.”

“So won’t you say you love me? I’ll make you so proud of me. We’ll make ‘em turn their heads every place we go, so won’t you please,” Be My Baby by The Ronettes fills the previous silent tension, which you seemingly already forgot everything about, using Jeongguk’s free hand as your own personal microphone, folding it in a fist between your palms.

Jeongguk would never say it out loud, especially now, after he only pretended he had to be begged to put it on, that he’s actually grown attached to this playlist. Started as a little mishap and turned into something that got under his skin, much like you have.

Its creation came about from a comically embarrassing moment that gave you ammunition to tease him for weeks. Although, he’s glad for it when he reflects deep enough: the whole episode helped shape the bond between you two, adding to its foundation.

He still doesn’t know how you managed to slip so sneakily into his dorm that evening, but what’s sure is that he wasn’t expecting you, taking the time of his life in his bathroom, fresh out of the shower. Simply following his usual routine, one that you wouldn’t have exactly considered usual since you only ever knew him as an avid Drake listener, he hummed along to Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling in Love flowing softly from his phone speaker.

It wasn’t just that, of course, because then he started styling his wet hair in an exaggerated pompadour and fully got into character, strutting dramatic poses in front of the mirror and even practicing Elvis’s iconic curl of the lip. If his soul was by any chance watching over the scene, you’d hoped he’d agree with you that Jeongguk was truly giving Austin Butler a run for his money.

The private show sadly ended when he caught sight of you in the foggy glass, your lips sealed shut to try and hold your delighted laughter, but it got ripped out of you in the form of an obnoxious snort the moment his eyes went wide in horror and his face crimson in shame.

It was hell for a few weeks after that. You didn’t let him off so easily, teasing him for being a secret softie with a love for old-school romance under all the layers of his tough fuckboy image that only ever seemed to handle trappy beats.

When you jokingly suggested he might as well get fully into the act and start calling you toots or something, he didn’t back down from the tease, scoffing at you with narrowed eyes. Somewhere along the way, the dry, sardonic tone with which he first used that pet name on you stuck, and it became less of a joke, more of an endearing way to refer to you, and only you.

Before either of you could second-guess it, the playlist was born. You two crafted it together in fits of laughter and late-night texts, with Jeongguk suggesting songs from his secret stash and you contributing the ones you grew up on.

It quickly became the soundtrack to many of your aimless car rides, something that neither of you acknowledged outright but silently cherished. Sometimes, you’d get so carried away and slip into the roles of a ‘60s couple, playfully reciting cheesy lines back and forth.

No matter how much Jeongguk pretends he hates it to save what’s left of his bad boy reputation, he really doesn’t. Not even a little bit. Even the way he rolls his eyes and groans isn’t enough to hide the spark in his eyes when you sing along.

He feels worse than a pubescent teenager when he lets his guard slip to hear you hum words he can only imagine are just for him, meant in the way he wants. You swing side by side and smile up at him with dimples digging long slits into your cheeks, and he has to act as if it makes him feel completely normal and not like he’s going to crash his car any second.

Each lyric that spills from your mouth feels like it’s tying him down, even with your sweet voice a little unsteady, thanks to whatever is still left from the night’s drinks. You’re so not aware of what it does to him.

Your eyes are on the road, but Jeongguk’s linger on you, his fingers unconsciously tapping the steering wheel to the tune.

“I’d save every day like a treasure, and then, again, I would spend them with you.”

Jeongguk purposefully veers off onto streets he doesn’t need to take, buying himself a few extra minutes with you, but you don’t notice and he pretends to not know either. Would never admit it’s because he wants to hear you sing a little more, and that this ongoing joke between the two of you might be his favorite thing in the whole world.

“But there never seems to be enough time to do the things you want to do once you find them. Hold on, this one’s a little lower. I’ll find my note, wait,” you’re mostly talking to yourself, cheek pressed to the cool glass of the window, but you glance at Jeongguk as if seeking for approval, clearing your throat, “I’ve looked around enough to know that you’re the one I want to go through time with.”

Just as Time in a Bottle by Jim Croce fades out, Jeongguk pulls into the campus parking lot, turning the engine off and cutting the music with it. None of you move right away, accepting the stillness in the car.

You don’t accept the silence, though, letting your mind speak a thought that has been nagging at you, “Can you fuck me here? Right now?”

The way you voice the request would make anybody who didn’t understand English think you’d just asked for something as mundane as a glass of water, your eyes unfaltering, a small smile on your waiting lips, voice barely slicing through the quiet. It’s almost as if you don’t know it’s the kind of thing that could derail Jeongguk’s entire thought process.

Jeongguk lightly chokes on his own breath, giving a few coughs before turning to you, his tattooed hand messing his hair further, “Jesus Christ, ___. You know I can’t.”

You tilt your head, considering him, as if this is a serious debate rather than drunken rambling, “Why not?”

Jeongguk can only sigh. He takes in your disheveled state and notices the way your exposed skin prickles with the cold, reaching for the leather jacket he carelessly threw on the backseats before heading to the party, having had no idea you’d be the one wearing it by the end of the night.

He wraps it gently around your shoulders, moving sticky, stray strands of hair from your face, “You’re so drunk. Look at you.”

“I told you I’m not,” you protest weakly, but your confidence falters when his fingers ghost over your face.

“There’s vomit in your hair,” he shuts you bluntly, tone softer than the honest words.

“Oh,” your stubbornness doesn’t work this time, and you’re mortified as you glance down at your lap, where his fingers fall to mindlessly play with the zip of his bomber jacket, brushing your tummy in the process. Your voice doesn’t sound so sure now, especially when each subtle graze sends small shocks through you, “That’s disgusting.”

The soft chuckle he lets out has you stealing a look upward, and when you catch his expression your slowed down brain can only come to the conclusion that maybe he doesn’t find you all that disgusting: he sports a rare, wide curve of his bunny smile, eyes crinkling when that same fondness finds its way onto your lips. You can’t help what they do next, a mind of their own as you rest them on his own mouth, the tip of his nose tickling your cheek.

It’s the faintest of kisses, and it’s delicate, fleeting, over far too soon, but you’re the one to pull back first no matter how much longer you need it to be, “That was probably disgusting too.”

As you rest your back on the seat again, his eyes are still closed, and they flutter open as slowly as a smile stretches on his mouth when he meets you. You’re giving him a look he doesn’t deserve, one he shouldn’t lean into.

His voice is a whisper, and it fans over your face, still close to his, “Not at all.”

Gleaming eyes scan every angle of you, as if trying to find anything that’ll hold him back from what he really wants to do. But, of course, his need only grows when he lets his gaze wander down, then up again.

He glances to the side with a gulp, moving his body back to reach for the car door handle, “You think you can walk or should I carry you?”

“Carry me, please,” you mumble, not even pondering on the first option, and the moment the sound leaves your lips he’s out and reaching for your side, opening your door and scooping you up like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The walk to his dorm is a blur, with you dozing off in his warmth and being lulled by the hums escaping him and reverberating through his chest, melodies of the earlier songs playing against your ear.

You regain awareness when a splash of warm water cascades over your now naked body, the sensation startling enough to make your lashes flutter against your damp cheeks. The water runs over your face, washing away the remnants of the night, the drowsy yet oddly light sensation taking over you causing a giggle to echo against the walls.

You’re still too disoriented to process the tenderness with which Jeongguk’s hand moves, brushing through your soaked strands of hair and moving them from where they flattened on your face, combing through the sticky locks.

With half-open eyes, you’re met with the sight of him in front of you, standing close enough without needing to step into the small space with you, his brows furrowed as he works the shampoo through your hair. It’s a soothing, slow motion, the one he massages your scalp with, and it only melts you further into sweet slumber.

If it weren’t for one of his hands resting tightly on your hip, grounding you as the scent of the shampoo mingles with the steam curling around you, you would have gladly swayed into his palm, letting your weak body fall into his strong one.

You sniff, leaning into his care, voice small and oddly sincere, “I’m sorry for,” hiccup, “taking you away from Haeun. You two seem close again.”

Jeongguk stills for a moment, his fingers pausing in your hair before resuming their soft motions. He pretends he didn’t hear, and you pretend you never talked in the first place when he guides you to steady yourself as your knees wobble, “Hey, stand still. You’ll get shampoo in your eyes. Close them.”

You obey, letting your eyelids drop shut as you feel his hand gently tilt your head under the spray, his touch as tender as the words he isn’t saying.

If you weren’t a victim of both sleepiness and alcohol at this very moment, your thoughts would be racing each other like eager contenders in the Overthinker Marathon, each one fighting tooth and nail for the gold medal. They’d be dissecting every little detail of the night— the way Jeongguk had ignored you, his lingering hand on Haeun’s waist, only to be there the second you needed him, the girl from earlier not even worth mentioning.

Instead, your every thinking cell has taken a rare vacation, lounging together on an imaginary green field, clinking glasses filled with leftover cocktails from earlier, lazily watching clouds drift by.

Although there’s one cell in particular, too tipsy to sit still. It hops around gleefully, urging your lips to move before the Thinking Cell General can intervene. The way it jumps up and down, up and down, makes you giggle as you blurt out, “I don’t know if it’s the water, but I’m very wet.”

The silence that follows is thick, punctuated only by the sound of water cascading down your back. Jeongguk freezes as if the words have physically reached out and yanked him into stunned stillness. He can only let his throat bob in a visible swallow and look away, warning you in a strained mutter, “___. This is your last warning. Stop teasing me.”

You whine, pathetically wiggling your weak and pliant body in his hold to seek for some kind of reaction, but he doesn’t budge. He’s uncharacteristically focused on his tasks, ensuring every trace of shampoo rinses from your hair, rather than your hardened nipples bouncing with your stubborn movements.

But you recognise the way his jaw clenches so tight it must hurt, how he refuses to let his gaze wander lower where the steam of water outlines your form. His restraint is razor-thin, yet he holds it tightly, breathing only slightly uneven.

You’re not deterred by his warning; you never are. It’s the tiny tracks in his resolve that keep you pressing forward, voice laced with a vulnerability that makes his hand twitch against your scalp, “Just… I just need your fingers. Please.”

Jeongguk exhales sharply through his nose, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he angles the spray to wash the last suds away, hyper-focused on the practical task as though it’s a lifeline to his dwindling self-control.

But you’re persistent. You reach behind you, fingers messily finding the knob to twist the water off, and with the spray halting you’re left only with the hum of the bathroom fan and the faint drip of water.

Your other hand finds his, guiding his wide palm to rest on your lower stomach, just above where your want is written in every inch of your body. You whisper, plead clear in your tone, ”You know I want this. Won’t ever regret it. I’m conscious enough to be sure of that.”

Jeongguk huffs, his chest rising and falling as he stares down at you, fingers flexing slightly against your skin. He closes his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply as if accepting defeat. He can’t win this battle.

The brown-haired boy steps into the shower, the small space shrinking even further with the addition of his broader frame, forcing you to back up against the wall. Fully dressed, water clings to his fabric, and the contrast of his damp clothes against your bare, exposed skin makes you irrationally wetter.

Jeongguk keeps silent, and at this point you don’t care how desperate you look, pushing yourself against him and getting his clothes wetter in the process. It pushes him to initiate a torturous path along your skin, using his middle finger to trace a journey from your chest, savoring the way your breath hitches, down to your warm core.

The droplets of water he collects on the way are used to spread your puffy lips and press right on your sensitive nub, making you gasp. You’re a trembling mess from the simple motion, and he has to use his free hand to steady you against the wall.

Your breasts aren’t left without being taken care of, because the moment he begins circling motions on your clit that have you seeing stars, he lowers his head to envelop one of your tits in his ravenous mouth, teeth teasing it punitively, all while looking up at you with sliced, sinful eyes.

He’s greedy, and you can’t believe he managed to hide it so well until now. But his resolve crumbles the more he revels in the way you fall apart for him, and he loses control on your chest. The sensation is sharp, delicious, and the contrast between the harshness of his bite and the softness of his tongue has you whimpering.

You’re ashamedly aware of how close you already are, his digits picking a fast speed that urges you to let go and coat him in your juices. He knows, simply from the way you let your mouth fall agape and release loud moans in the steamy air, pushing your nipples further in his swollen lips.

When he inserts one finger in your warm hole, you jolt in his secure hold, eyebrows shot upwards in the shock of your sudden orgasm, one that hits you all too harshly. It drags on deliciously, Jeongguk never wanting it to end, the slurping sound of his sucking on your tits making your surrounding spin, along with his thumb accompanying the way his single digits thrusts into you.

He only stops when you unconsciously run from his doings, slim hand wrapping weakly around his wrist, and he retreats with one last wet stripe along the curve of your boob, promptly collecting your taste from his fingers, and he thoroughly hums around them, eyes closed and cheeks hollowed.

You think you could come again from the sight alone. Panting, you smile through your ragged breaths, “Fuck. Thanks.”

Five minutes later, no one would bet you’re the same girl that begged him for his fingers and came in record time around them. Now, you sit serenely on the toilet lid, wrapped up in Jeongguk’s warmest hoodie. The oversized fabric swallows your frame, knees tucked under it as you hug them close to your chest. You look as innocent as ever.

Jeongguk stands in front of you, meticulously brushing through your damp hair with practiced gentleness, each stroke of the comb a soothing lullaby. You rest your chin lazily on your folded arms, eyes closed, the edges of sleep blurring your thoughts.

You let out a contented sigh before murmuring, words unfiltered, “You’d make the perfect boyfriend. You always take care of me. And kiss me when I need it.”

The motions of the brush stop for a fraction of a second before resuming, and what you hear next is Jeongguk’s throat clearing, his voice low and almost shaky, “That sounds so very wrong, toots.”

“What do you mean?” You don’t open your eyes as you ask the question, the warmth of his presence and the excuse of the last traces of alcohol still flowing in your tired body making you bolder than usual.

“You want me to be your boyfriend?”

“In another life, maybe. Yes,” you don’t waste time replying, words carrying a dreamy quality, “I mean, would be cool.”

“Cool?” He chuckles, but it’s the kind that’s half-exasperation and half-something else entirely, voice strained with an edge of desperation too, “God, I don’t even know why I’m still putting up with you.”

You only nuzzle closer into the borrowed hoodie, giving voice to your next thought, your thinking cells now hosting a 60s themed party, “Be my, be my baby. My one and only baby.”

The sound of your singing fades under the whirring roar of the hairdryer, and Jeongguk is quietly thankful for the way it drowns your sweet hums completely, fearing if he hears another one of those tipsy love confessions leaving your lips he might drop to his knees, undone by something he knows he can’t claim.

You rest your head against his stomach, full weight leaning on his standing figure, his long digits pulling through your strands. If you’d look up at your best friend for even one fleeting second, you’d probably laugh at the concentration on his expression, his only goal drying your hair enough to not have you waking up with a headache the following day.

You sniffle and snuggle impossibly closer to him, the heat radiating from his tummy and the white noise lulling you further into drowsiness, every careful motion of his hand coaxing you closer to sleep.

When your phone pings from the bathroom counter, the sudden buzz makes you jolt slightly. You lift your head sluggishly and gesture toward the phone, mouthing up to Jeongguk, “Pass it.”

He hands it to you without turning off the hairdryer, keeping an eye on your sleepy movements. You blink at the bright light for a moment before your expression shifts, eyes widening.

You’re completely jolted awake at the only notification on your home screen: it's Namjoon.

You tap Jeongguk’s stomach with the heel of your hand— softly at first, then with increasing urgency. The repeated motion forces him to stop the device and place it on the counter as he looks down at you, trying to peek at the screen, “What?”

You hiccup and sniff before blurting out, “Namjoon. He texted me”

The boy that was just now carefully drying your hair scoffs, arms crossed over his chest, “What does that asshole want?”

The response to the rhetorical question doesn’t come, either because you decide to ignore it purposefully or unconsciously: you look totally engulfed by the words on your otherwise empty chat with Namjoon, and Jeongguk can’t help but subtly lean his body lower to read the same texts you’re going through.

Kim Namjoon [4:26 a.m.]: Hey. Sorry for texting late, I heard from someone you threw up back at the party. I’m so sorry. I completely lost sight of you in that mess. Are you feeling any better? Very sorry again.

Kim Namjoon [4:27 a.m.]: It’s totally okay if you don’t want to hear from me again. But I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t at least try to make it up to you.

Kim Namjoon [4:27 a.m.]: I’d really like to take you out on a date. Would you let me?

Jeongguk kisses his teeth irkedly, “Why the fuck does he text like Prince William? Fucking English major,” and he truly tried his best to sound unaffected, but the words leave his mouth before he even knows he’s thinking of them.

Luckily, you don’t seem to notice, reading the message aloud like you can’t quite believe it yourself, “He said he’d like to go on a date with me. Like, he asked me on a date. And said he would like it. To go on a date—”

“Yes, we got it.”

“He doesn’t hate me, Gguk!” Once again, his petty comments go unnoticed as your face lights up, eyes crinkling with joy as you practically beam up at him.

Jeongguk wants to be annoyed, but he simply can’t when he’s met with all the stars in the universe right in your glossy, tired eyes. He swallows hard and forces a soft chuckle, “No, he doesn’t, toots. Anyone would be crazy to hate you.”

The grin on your lips only widens, nose scrunching adorably as you let your cheek sheepishly brush against your shoulder, “Oh my god, Gguk. I’m going on a date with him! Heh.”

“That’s nice,” he says, picking up the hairdryer again before your words can settle too heavily in the space between you. “I’m not finished with your hair, though. Stay still.”

The device roars to life once more, its noise filling the room and covering your excited giggles. Jeongguk keeps brushing through your hair with steady motions, his face impassive, but he feels something tighten, heavy and unyielding in his chest.

He tells himself the noise is a blessing, a shield from the silence he wouldn’t know how else to fill—or from the sound of his own voice, betraying him in ways he can’t afford.

────୨ৎ────

“I’ll miss the sex when Namjoon will ask me to be his girlfriend.”

In the quiet of the library, your sudden whisper startles Jeongguk. The chair screeches under him and it gains the both of you a few annoyed looks. He nods in apology at their way, moving closer to the table again, and he has to blink a few times before he can even meet your eyes. The scattered pens all over the white surface looked more interesting either way.

“When he— his— what?” He feels pathetic for being unable to even form a senseful sentence, but there’s no absolute way he blames his brain for that. It’s his heart, stuttering along with the barely intelligible question.

It cracks at the middle the more your grin splits your face in half, nose scrunching adorably, and he may be a horrible friend but he can’t bring himself to return your irony, nor the masked excitement under it.

If he were handed pen and paper and asked to write about how he feels right at this moment, he wouldn’t put down a single thing. Not because there isn’t anything to say. He fears your innocent teasing has done something catastrophic, snapping that one damned string that connected his brain to his heart, and the two aren’t communicating. Jeongguk is in the middle of two angered parents, fighting and on the brink of divorce. That’s what he gets for being a total pussy.

You shrug, frowning slightly when all you’re faced with is his blank expression, eyes unresponsive and detachedly looking elsewhere, but you keep yours on him, studying even the small movements, “I mean, he’s a nice guy. I think he’s serious about getting to know me.”

The word serious causes an involuntary twitch of his head, tilting almost imperceptibly to the side, and he sounds way too defensive, “And are you?”

Furrowing your eyebrows at his unexpected reaction, you return to your previous mindless doodling, keeping your voice low, “Well, he’s cute. Let’s see where this thing goes.”

“What about me?”

The question catches the both of you off guard. Your pencil halts as you glance at him through the corner of your eye, and even if you can’t see him clearly, the way his dark orbs widen is almost comical that you would laugh in any other situation. But now, the air is oddly tense and it makes your nose scrunch in awkwardness.

He breaks it with a chuckle, a subtle tremor in it that luckily goes unnoticed by you but that will probably keep him up at night for the next five years, and he lightly shoves your shoulder in an effort at feigning ease, “You really wanna pass on this dick?”

“God, you’re gross,” the annoyed roll of your eyes has Jeongguk releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding; it’s odd, but that’s just who he is.

The second you return to weightless banter, he’s back in his element. He can smirk, tease and deflect— these are tools he’s mastered over the months. But the thought of stripping naked for your eyes to see, and not in the sexual way you two engage in almost every night, terrifies him.

The waters are safe for what seems a fraction of a second before you pull him down in the deep, dark seas again, this dynamic between you foreign. While it is a simple, innocent question, your deceptive tone triggers unfamiliarity within him, “Besides, how’s it going with you and Haeun?”

“Huh? Oh. Haeun, yes,” his attempt at buying himself extra time is laughable, especially when Mr. Brain is now yelling at Ms. Heart for always wanting to get in the way of things he can handle alone, “Wonderfully. We— She— Huh, kissed me.”

Ms. Heart is furious. She has no other choice but to reach in her purse and slap the divorce papers on the dinner table, the glasses clinking against the plates, and Jeongguk flinches. Brain is speechless, clueless on how to react.

You only seem slightly taken aback, eyebrows raising in mild surprise, “Really? That’s nice.”

Jeongguk is equally clueless, subtly squeezing his eyes shut as if hoping to wake up somewhere else entirely, maybe in an ideal world where Kim Namjoon doesn’t exist and Mr. Brain and Ms. Heart are happily married.

Instead, he’s still in the library, and you’re still sitting next to him, scribbling on your English textbook. He frowns, getting pitiably lost in the view of your side profile, “Yeah, nice. Huh, when’s your date?”

When you glance up at him, you seem to be realizing just how odd it is for the two of you to spend this much time talking about your respective hook ups, and you cringe slightly at the unusual formality, wishing Jeongguk would just tease you like he usually does when you tell him about your untruthful and made up sexual adventures.

You purse your lips in thought, “Tomorrow, actually.”

“Oh. He’s going fast.”

“I like that.”

“I know you do.”

No matter the effort you put into trying to hide your amusement, a snort escapes you, and you quickly look away to recover from the childish grin spreading on your lips. You shake your head, closing the book in front of you, “You’re fucking disgusting.”

Jeongguk only smirks in an oddly proud way, nodding at your flustered state when he realizes he successfully managed yet again to shift the conversation from topics he doesn’t want to hear or talk about. He shrugs, “You just said that.”

“And I’ll say it again.”

“Whatever,” a small chuckle follows the dismissal, his hand coming to brush through his fluffy hair, getting too long for his liking, “I really wanted to see you tomorrow.”

Once again, Jeongguk is way too honest, way too easily. Ms. Heart is marching hastily with Mr. Brain walking close behind, trying to make sense of the situation and pushing her to reconsider her actions, but it’s no use: she’s tired, and sick of being walked over, again and again.

He doesn’t like the underlying meaning behind that, and wishes Mr. Brain would grow a pair and just swoon her back into love again. Jeongguk doesn’t like the genuine surprise etched across your face either, or, well, he doesn’t like the effect it has on him: it’s almost unbearable to accept that the blush dusting your cheeks, the one you’re probably unaware of, is caused by his unfiltered honesty. Because sincere bluntness isn’t exactly something he tries to show. Then, why does it spill out of him uncontrollably? Why— why do you look so beautiful like this?

“Hm,” your smile is small, but your dimple betrays it, Jeongguk’s whole resolve cracking with the way you sound dangerously decisive, “Too bad. You’re late.”

Jeongguk shouldn’t overthink this. You’re simply engaging in the usual dynamic, teasing him like always, no reason for his palms to sweat. He shouldn’t panic over the way nothing about what you said feels simple, nor usual, and your tone carries more than what you both want the words to mean.

He doesn’t know if it’s a warning or a test—or worse, the truth. Maybe he’s imagining it. Maybe Brain just misinterpreted the comment, too distracted by its constant squabble with Heart, both of them ignoring Jeongguk, who is still sitting at the cluttered kitchen table with his plate half-full, surrounded by a mess of inky emotions he doesn’t have the courage to clean up.

The sound of forks clinking against plates grates against his ears, drowning out the hurried excuses spilling from your mouth, the ones you’re babbling and making up along the way of gathering your things and standing up from the round table, shouldering your bag in the same hurry you left his room with before the next time he saw you was nose to nose with Namjoon.

You huff, giving a small, tight lipped smile that should be meaningless, but to Jeongguk it isn’t, “I’ll go now. See you around?”

“Huh, sure. Let me know how it goes with Namsun.”

You roll your eyes at the playful attempt, his grin just as empty, “Right. Bye Gguk.”

You’re off the hallway before he can add anything else. Not that he would have been able to. Your bag swings with your big steps, slim hands coming to absently tug your plaid skirt lower, and Jeongguk thinks and thinks.

He realizes he really doesn’t want to know how your little date goes. Would rather shoot himself rather than hearing you talk about another guy taking you out to dinner, stealing you from him and sealing the end to whatever the two of you have.

His options are narrowed. He either commits in front of you and forever changes the trajectory of your life or does something about Namjoon. But why does the option of ending his life sound much easier than stepping up to big, buff Namjoon, infatuated with the same girl he likes?

Oh.

The admission jolts him. It’s a physical reaction that causes his chair to shriek again under his movements, but this time he’s not polite enough to apologize for it. He must look crazy, wide eyes burning holes into his hands planted steadily on the table in front of him.

The girl he likes. You’re the girl he likes.

And every signal is there. The spark he sought for now lights a nervous feeling in his stomach, its fireworks interrupting Brain and Heart’s incessant arguing.

Does he look stupid not doing anything for the girl he likes? Not fighting for the girl he’s been falling for all this time?

────୨ৎ────

It should be easy. It is easy.

Jeongguk can’t let the sleepless night spent reciting lines to his ceiling go to waste. He’s sure not even theater kids could match his determination. And as he marches across campus toward the gym, where the squeak of sneakers and the echo of grunts will lead him to the person needed to put the plan into action, he reviews step by step what he’s told himself to do. It’s a well-rehearsed script, each word, every calculated expression—he’s gone over it a hundred times, accounting for every reaction.

Step one, be casual. Friendly, even. Approach Namjoon like there’s nothing calculated about this interaction—no ulterior motives, no scheme brewing beneath the surface. Just a casual catch-up between two guys.

“What’s up, Kim,” when Jeongguk spots the slightly taller boy exercising at a steady walking pace on the treadmill, he immediately hops onto the free one beside him.

Namjoon startles slightly, then smiles with those stupid, charming dimples of his, and it’s one that Jeongguk would probably only give if forced, “Hey, Jeongguk. Long time no see.”

The brown-haired boy nods, setting the speed and quickly catching up to Namjoon. He keeps his tone deliberately cool, even borderline disinterested, “You been good?”

On his left, your almost-boyfriend shrugs, jogging along, “Yeah, just studying, man. What about you?”

“Pretty much the same,” he hasn’t cracked open a book in weeks, and that study session from yesterday was just an excuse to be with you. But he can’t afford to let his thoughts linger on you too long or he’ll lose focus. He needs focus. “You catch that last game?”

Step two, pretend to care about what Namjoon is saying and then proceed with the acting skills only to suddenly remember something totally random he wanted to mention.

“Fuck, don’t remind me. I was so sure we would win,” the sweating man sounds way too affected by the recent football match, and Jeongguk fears if he asks one more question for the sake of pretending he’ll never get to the actual point.

So, he goes straight to it, “Yeah, it was rough. Oh, by the way. You know ___, right?”

The simple mention of your name causes a small stutter in Namjoon’s step, but he recovers with the stupid smile from earlier, only this time it’s wider, “Of course I know her. Why do you ask?”

Step three, just be honest. He just has to lay it all out. Be straightforward. Tell him the truth about how he’s felt for so long and what this whole thing with you is doing to him. It’s not a confrontation—it’s a conversation. Jeongguk will politely explain that he’s liked you for a while now, that he’s been in your life long before Namjoon, and, as a courtesy, he’d appreciate it if he would step back from pursuing you.

Civil. Calm. Totally chill. There’s absolutely nothing to get worked up over.

"You really don't know? Have no idea?" Jeongguk asks, his voice dropping, tone more pointed than he intended.

Namjoon slows his treadmill slightly, glancing over with furrowed brows and a faintly amused smile. “No, man. Enlighten me.”

“She’s my fucking girlfriend.”

What. The. Fuck.

That wasn’t the plan. Not even close to the plan.

────୨ৎ────

You feel stupid.

Wrapped around in your warmest coat, you still shiver. It could be the way your legs are exposed under your wool dress, high black boots reaching just beneath your knees. But there’s something else to the chill, making you shake in fading jitters. The excitement of the evening you told yourself you were looking forward to morphs into anxiety, and the passing looks of people mean more than they should as minutes tick and tick; they seem to glance at you for too long, their looks heavy with what you can only imagine is judgment.

A young girl swaddled in small but striking details from head to toe — delicate earrings that catch the light, a scarf knotted perfectly at the neck, polished nails clutching the strap of an expensive-looking bag, hair done up in a neat slicked bun — glancing nervously at her surroundings can only mean one thing: she’s been stood up.

Namjoon was supposed to meet you in front of the cozy cafè just outside the campus, its warm tones and surely even warmer ambience so very inviting. Maybe you’d go in, order a steaming hot chocolate for yourself, and chalk this up as a lesson learned. But instead, you chose to wait outside, shifting on your tiptoes every so often, scanning the crowd for a glimpse of the first man to ask you out in what felt like ages.

You feel as though you’ll be forever destined to wait more when thirty minutes go by and Namjoon is nowhere to be seen.

You frown, swaying on your heels. What you feel is not disappointment— not at first. But that only causes you to feel worse about yourself when you realize you’re almost relieved the tall man hasn’t shown up, and he’s not here to turn fears into even scarier realities. The date would have given a concrete meaning to your actions, and the thought stirs something not exactly pleasant within you.

The scratch at the back of your mind grows harder to ignore, and no matter how much you try to shake it off, your subconscious finds ways back to it when your hand instinctively dives into the depths of the expensive purse you had specially chosen for this occasion. A purse meant to complement your carefully selected dark ensemble— an effort that now feels entirely wasted. You spent so much time getting ready for something you’re not ready for at all.

Pulling out your phone, your thumb scrolls to Jeongguk’s number with a natural automatism, typing before you even register why he’s the first person you feel the need to tell.

You [9:39 p.m.]: hi

You [9:39 p.m.]: namjoon stood me up lol

The typing bubbles appear faster than you anticipated, and as you watch them dance across the screen, you burrow deeper into the fragile warmth of your jacket, the tip of your nose numb from the cold.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:40 p.m.]: Whattttttt????

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:40 p.m.]: He’s such an asshooooooole

Your first instinct is to snort at his reaction, a childish grin tugging at your lips, but it turns into a scowl when the more you reread the text, the more it sounds weird. He usually never texts like a six-year-old using his mom’s iPad.

You [9:40 p.m.]: yes he is

You [9:40 p.m.]: why are u textin so weird btw lol

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:41 p.m.]: Wym weirddd

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:41 p.m.]: I’m totally normal

You [9:41 p.m.]: wtv

You [9:42 p.m.]: u still wanna hang out?

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Yes please

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Want me to pick u up

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Where are u rn

The head tilt is unconscious, but you feel it click in place. You’ve mentioned how Jeongguk is caring, how he can read your needs like no one else and caters to them quietly, but he’s never this pliant, this malleable. You like him because it’s hard to get him to bend (and you’d rather die than let Jeongguk know about this).

You [9:43 p.m.]: is ok

You [9:43 p.m.]: i’ll just walk

You [9:43 p.m.]: be there in 10

The walk usually takes you less than 10 minutes, but before meeting him, you decide to head back to your dorm and change out of these stupid fancy clothes you picked out for the date.

You keep your head low as you walk through the hallways, the full glam you put on impossible to miss as it sparkles under the fluorescent lights, just as your boots' heels echo through the corridors.

Taking off the dress and heels feels like peeling away the embarrassment of rejection, the weight of disappointment settling in as you realize you couldn’t prove to yourself that you could do it, that you can do it, take the leap and let something serious into your life.

You question whether you're even cut out for it when the guy who seemed perfect ended up proving the opposite.

Now, back in more comfortable clothes — Jeongguk's black hoodie from the other day and baggy sweatpants — you feel a little more like yourself. Scared of emotions, scared of commitment, no matter how many hours of your day are spent daydreaming about it.

The second you click the door of your room open, it’s like you can smell a weird shift in the air. And you do, literally sniff, scanning your surroundings for any hint of something burning or out of place.

But it’s not about the dorm in its physical state, no— it’s the odd silence that you’re met with, the people you’re used to sharing the space with now uncharacteristically careful with their volume.

“Oh my god, ___,” that is probably why you’re visibly startled by the sudden voice coming from your side, Iseul looking like containing excitement is the hardest task she’s ever been asked to deal with, just like the few other girls behind her, all practically vibrating, “You’re finally here.”

You furrow your brows, chuckling confusedly at the unusuality of it all— well, it’s not like you don’t get along with these people. It’s just that you’ve never gone over meaningless jokes and talks about the state of the dorm, plus you’ve never exactly been the center of attention like this. It feels off, and it reflects in your uncertain tone, “I am?”

“I’m so happy for you,” Binna chimes in next, grabbing your shoulders with way more enthusiasm than the level of your relationship with her would normally allow, and the way all of their heads nod along that it feels like a coordinated performance is starting to scare you.

“You’re… happy for—”

“I’ve always known you and Jeongguk were perfect for each other,” the affection dripping from Binna’s voice sickens you, maybe even more than the words she’s speaking.

Huh?

You swear you feel your heart skip a long beat before you mask it with an obnoxious, nervous laugh, only growing more when none of them crack a smile or react, “Me and— okay, is this a fucking joke?”

“C’mon, ___,” Iseul says, her sweet voice doing nothing to calm your tension, and if anything it only heightens it, “You don’t need to hide anymore, Jeongguk told Namjoon that you’re his girlfriend.”

Oh. So this must be a fucking joke.

And you can’t stand it.

You barely manage to shake off their relentless curiosity, the entire dorm suddenly buzzing with an interest in you after years of peaceful and civil indifference, and it only overwhelms you to the brim.

Fury boils in your chest as you step out of the building, the cold air failing to cool the anger that flares up within you. With every step, your frustration grows, and you hastily type on your phone as you make your way toward the one person that’s responsible for your temper.

You [10:07 p.m.]: what the actual fuck jeongguk

The response comes so quickly, almost as if he were waiting for you to type it, and you scoff in disbelief. In that moment, you feel a twisted sense of understanding with serial killers. It makes you question how much control you actually have over yourself.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:07 p.m.]: What’s up?

You [10:07 p.m.]: why’s the whole dorm asking me how's it like to be your gf?

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:08 p.m.]: Eeehhhh???

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:08 p.m.]: That’s so weird

You’re actually gonna fuck this man up.

You [10:09 p.m.]: jeon jeongguk.

You [10:09 p.m.]: they’re saying you told namjoon i’m your girlfriend.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:09 p.m.]: Don’t use my full name and the period please 🥺

You [10:10 p.m.]: i’ll fucking kill you.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:10 p.m.]: You’re so hot when you’re like this

You [10:10 p.m.]: shut the hell up.

The banging on his door comes shortly after, and Jeongguk doesn’t even flinch. He knows it’s you, and frankly he was even expecting your arrival to be louder, hit him a little harder than it does. And when he lets you in, you storm in his space with no room for oxygen, door closing behind you but unable to contain the volume of your rage private.

“Can you explain why the whole campus thinks we’re dating? ‘Cause you’re not my boyfriend, and I’m not your girlfriend, and this is not fucking funny.”

But Jeongguk evidently does find it funny, chuckling under his hand coming to cover his mouth while the other one lifts to show you the bright screen of his cracked phone, “Really? The uni Instagram page is shipping us.”

“Shipping us?” You snatch the device from his hands, eyes widening as you scroll through the amount of stories posted in the last hour, everyone and their mother feeling entitled to weigh in on your nonexistent relationship. You whine, a hand resting at your forehead in disbelief, “Oh my god, this is ridiculous.”

“What, are you ashamed of me?” Jeongguk asks casually, walking back and sitting on the bed with a soft thud, his whole demeanor relaxed with a nonchalance that makes your left eye twitch.

You scoff, unwilling to grasp how this is even an actual thing happening to you, tossing the phone back at him, “A little bit, yeah. You think this is a fucking joke, huh? I’m now apparently dating the uni’s most popular fuckboy.”

The damned boy in front of you leans on his forearms, pouting just for show, “Hey, that’s mean. I’m no fuckboy.”

Bag thrown to the ground with a violence that it does not deserve, you start pacing back and forth in his room, letting out a borderline insane laugh, not knowing whether to scream or cry, “Yes, you are. You went through every single girl in this building.”

“Do you really think of me like that?”

The sudden sincerity that you think you spot in his tone makes you halt your steps, body turning to him as he sits straight again, his head tilting slightly.

You sigh, frustration mounting, and you throw your head back at the ceiling for any signal from the universe that this is indeed a joke, a bad, huge joke on you, “Jeongguk. Please.”

Silence fills the room next, but it doesn’t make it any easier to think nor does it quite register in your brain, mind racing with jumbled and chaotic thoughts, barely coming through as coherent words, getting intertwined with one another.

But the more you walk from one side of the room to the other, the more you’re almost able to untangle the mess, just enough to start processing what’s happening.

Then, a nuclear bomb wipes it all out, Jeongguk’s words the missile, his quiet tone the explosion, “I don’t want you to see nobody else.”

“What the fuck?”

The aftermath of the destruction is not only loud, ears ringing with a shrieking alarm going off, your figure stiff with shock, but you feel its heat burning your whole body in consuming flames that threaten to swallow you whole if you don’t let them take over, rise, flood every nerve until all you can feel is the rage boiling in your veins when you practically scream at him, ”What the hell does that even mean? You're being selfish!”

“Am I?” Jeongguk asks calm, calculated, gaze locked on yours as if daring you to challenge him further. His tone is maddeningly measured even as he pushes himself off the bed and closes the distance between you.

It’s like he’s planned this— attack after attack designed to destabilize you completely. Not only did he thrust you into the spotlight without warning, claiming you for the whole campus to see as if you’re worth nothing more than a stupid prank and a few laughs.

But now he talks with a grace that belies the chaos he’s stirred, as if his words are just another fact, something as simple as the weather, “I haven’t been seeing anybody since this summer. Since we started using no condom.”

Your pupils tremble with something far more complex than just anger, though you refuse to give it a name. He’s practically towering over you, his stance purposeful, making you feel small; as if the intensity of his gaze is not enough that it makes you falter, as if the humiliation he’s putting you through isn’t either. Head shaking, your voice does too, “That’s— not true. You’re a fucking liar. You— What about Haeun?

“Nothing even happened with her.”

The speed of his denial sets you off, an incredulous scoff breaking free as you roll your tongue against the inside of your cheek—a habit you’d picked up from witnessing his easy tempers, “Then why did you tell me you kissed?”

“Because—” Jeongguk hesitates, and the pause is so out of character that it almost gives you whiplash. The boy who always has something to say suddenly seems unsure. His hand flexes at his side, a nervous tick you hadn’t noticed before, and he exhales as if the words are fighting their way out of him, “‘Cause— I was jealous.”

“Jealous?” Your voice cracks on the word, a laugh bubbling out of you that’s sharp and fractured, borderline unhinged. It cuts through the room like broken glass, and his expression tightens, jaw clenching. But he doesn’t interrupt.

“Jealous,” you repeat, louder this time, your incredulous tone thick with rage. “You’re telling me you made up that bullshit because you were jealous?”

He doesn’t respond, and it pushes you closer to your limit, on the verge of exploding. You don’t know how you find it within you, but with a long exhale and a quick prayer up at the ceiling, you meet his gaze in an almost patronizing manner, “Jeongguk, we are not exclusive. I thought that was well implied. You don’t get to act like this. You don’t get to be jealous.”

Nodding along to your words, Jeongguk’s brows draw together, his expression somewhere between anxious and defensive. There’s something in his eyes, something close to fear, but fear of what, you can’t quite place.

When he speaks, his voice is softer than yours, as though he’s trying to keep it from breaking, “I know. We both agreed to that, yes. We’re both allowed to see other people.”

The words feel rehearsed, like he’s repeated them to himself a hundred times. But with the silence stretching, it’s clear he’s struggling to say more. His lips press together briefly, and his gaze flicks to yours, searching. It’s as though he’s waiting — no, hoping — you’ll interject, offer something to fill the space.

You don’t. You hold firm, tilting your head slightly, your confusion evident. Your wide, questioning eyes, so big, so honest, pull the truth from him in a way you don’t intend, and he exhales like it’s been forced out of him.

“But I don’t want you to.”

The sheer audacity of his words hits you like a slap, the kind that stings more because of its unexpectedness. You snort, although there’s nothing particularly amusing about your heart cracking at the middle, but you manage to keep it from resounding in your words, "That’s so fucking mean. Do you even hear yourself? You get to fuck whoever you want, and I’m kept hostage? And now—now everybody thinks we’re dating!"

"That’s good," he says, simple, unflinching.

You blink, disbelief coursing through you as your lips part in a strangled gasp. "What?" The word is half a whisper, half a shout, and it escapes before you can temper it, "You’re so selfish. I fucking hate you.”

The emotion is foreign from what you’re used to showing him, softness in quiet ways, affection in silent gestures. But now, it’s all loud rage, the opposite of love spilling out of you in volatile waves. Your hands curl into fists at your sides, itching for release, something, anything to make him feel the way you’re being forced to feel, to cut through the weight of his seemingly impassive expression showing only the barest twitch in his brows, a crack too small to satisfy your anger.

It isn’t enough. You need more.

Your palms find his chest, shoving him with the force of every burning feeling inside you. “You’re stupid,” you spit, watching him take the push without exactly budging, like he’s made of stone. It only stokes your frustration further, your hands pushing again, harder this time. “And dumb.”

Jeongguk doesn’t step back, doesn’t fight you. He stands there, his chest steady, absorbing your hits without a word. His lack of resistance only makes the storm inside you rage harder, and the tears you’ve been holding back threaten to spill over.

You scramble for more, anything to turn the reality of what you truly feel into the illusion of anger, “And— and— Why the fuck are you silent! Say something!” You aim another punch at his chest, but it’s impossibly weaker, the exhaustion showing in your useless attempts at getting at him.

You sniff, and you know you lost against his indifference, your voice wavering feeling like a confession you didn’t mean to make. “Asshole. You’re being so mean. You’re making me cry.”

That’s what finally breaks him. Only the tears slipping rapidly from your eyes get his resolve to crumble. His hands are on you instantly, gripping your shoulders gently but firmly, refusing to let you squirm away. You slap at them weakly, but his touch is steady, his fingers brushing strands of hair from your face, cupping your chin to tilt it up toward him.

“Toots, no. Hey, hey,” he whispers, his tone soft in a way that disarms you completely. His thumb swipes at a stray tear, but your face turns away, evading him like it’s your only line of defense. He doesn’t back down, “Stop crying. Hey, look at me. Will you?”

“Stop calling me that!” You finally snap, jerking your face away again. The tears are spilling faster now, no matter how much you want to fight them, no matter how much you want to cling to the fury. “I hate you. You’re fucking all the girls in this college, and I’m only fucking you, because— because—”

“God,” Jeongguk groans, exasperation dripping from his tone. You’re about to hurl another half-formed insult or maybe even take a swing at him again, aiming low, but his next words stop you cold.

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” His tone is quieter now, more deliberate, the vulnerability in it cutting sharper than anything else he’s said. “I like you. I broke the rule.”

You’re sure your heart will fail you today. It misses at least four beats, and it steals the oxygen from your lungs, along with the color from your face.

You stammer, eyes widening as your pulse picks up again and pounds in your ears. “Don’t—don’t say shit like that. I swear to God, I’ll actually fuck you up. Stop—lying to me.”

“What the fuck, ___? I’m not lying to you,” Jeongguk’s voice attempts to be steady but it can’t hide the desperation, as if he’s holding on by a thread. “Why would I?”

The question is simple.

Why would Jeongguk lie to you? Does he have a reason to fake this?

The world seems to tilt, the ground beneath you shifting in some irreparable way.

You should feel scared. You should feel repulsed at the thought of commitment, the weight of his words pressing against you like a cage. But you don’t.

Instead, your eyes dart between his, searching for cracks in his sincerity, like a frantic spectator watching a tennis match, every glance like a volley in the game of something bigger than either of you. The matchpoint sends a thrill through your chest, something overwhelming and terrifying but not unwelcome.

Jeongguk watches you closely, feeling the weight of the silence between you stretch on longer than he can handle. He knows he’s the one that should break it, knows the truth he’s holding inside has to be spoken now.

It’s now or never. He can’t keep pretending—this isn’t just some casual thing to him, and he’s not ready to let it slip away without a fight. You’ve become everything he didn’t know he needed, and yet here he is, paralyzed by the fear of rejection, of being vulnerable, of watching the one thing he wants most slip right through his fingers.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? If he doesn’t speak up now, he’ll lose everything. His fear has no place in this moment anymore.

It’s a long exhale before his voice drops in soft honey, shaking with the weight of the truth, “Look. I know it’s hard to trust me. You’ve seen me fuck up multiple times over this stuff. But I want to stop this cycle. I want to allow myself something good,” his eyes search for any signal that he should stop talking, but in yours he finds every reason for him not to, “And you’re everything good that life will ever concede me. I can't… I can't let you go. I can't lose you.”

"Jeongguk…" His name slips from your lips like a prayer you've been too afraid to speak aloud until now. But you see it— he’s ready to find every solution, even if it means confronting the fear that has held him back for so long.

“I like you so much it’s killing me,” he admits, voice low and raw, every syllable cracking with vulnerability.

It’s a slow realization, like a tide that comes in quietly, softly. You’ve felt its caress for so long, and now that it embraces you wholly, you feel your heart expand, filling with the same warmth, the same longing.

The words you wish you could say are caught in your throat. You look up at him, eyes wide, trying to comprehend, to take in what he’s offering. You’re almost afraid to ask, as if the answer will shatter something you’ve worked so hard to protect, “You like me?”

“I lose my fucking mind when it comes to you.” His confession is a rush of honesty that sweeps through you, his eyes not leaving yours, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he blinks.

The world feels like it’s slowing down. There’s so much you’ve been holding back, but you don’t know how to make the words fit, how to make them sound right.

Jeongguk takes a small step back, his voice quieter but still heavy with emotion. “It’s okay if you wanna end it here,” he murmurs, his words barely above a whisper, like he’s bracing for the worst. “At least it wasn’t because you got with some other stupid guy.”

You shake your head, the thought of losing him too painful to bear. “Stop—” You let out a frustrated sigh, hands curling into fists at your sides. “God, you’re so dumb. This could have been so much easier if you’d told me sooner.”

He looks at you, confusion flickering across his face. “What do you mean?”

You feel your chest tighten, the truth slipping out before you can stop it. “I like you too,” you admit, the words finally leaving your lips hastly, like they were just waiting for the right moment. “I agreed to the date because I thought you were still… fucking around.”

His face softens, and there’s a flash of relief in his eyes. “I wasn’t. Haven’t been in so long.”

“...No Haeun?”

“Hell no. I don’t want no kiss if it isn’t from you.”

You laugh, a low sound that fills the air between you. “Cheesy fucker,” you tease, but there’s a warmth in your chest now, a feeling you can’t ignore. “Well, if you want to know, I wasn’t seeing anybody either. Namjoon asked me out randomly, but I haven’t been with anyone else since… this started.”

His eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, everything is quiet. He looks at you like he’s just heard something he never expected to hear. “Oh,” he says softly.

“Yeah.”

Jeongguk steps closer to you, his hands reaching for you, voice thick, “I’m so sorry, baby. I never meant to make you cry. It’s breaking my heart.” His thumb brushes across your cheek, gently wiping away the remnants of the tears you hadn’t even realized had fallen. “I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head, your heart swelling with both regret and tenderness. “It’s okay,” you say softly. “I’m sorry for yelling all that stuff at you. I don’t hate you. I…”

Before you can finish, his lips crash against yours, and all the confusion, all the fears, prove themselves to be worth this moment.

They dissolve into something real, the kiss trying to make up for lost time, for all the things left unsaid.

When you pull away, your foreheads resting together, Jeongguk’s voice is quiet but determined. “Come here, baby. You’re mine.”

“Prove it.”

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kookslastbutton · 9 months ago

Text

what love feels like ༓ myg (m)

✑ Summary: Being a mother to a beautiful baby girl and wife to an adoring husband is the most rewarding feeling in the world. But you also work a full-time job, are overtired most of the time, stressed, don't have any alone time, look very different than eight years ago, and sex? Well, that hasn’t happened in weeks. The gravity of the situation weighs on you until one day, all of your deepest insecurities rear their ugly head–that your husband might not love you as much anymore and someone could take him away from you.

Pairing: husband!yoongi x reader

AU/genre: angst, fluff, smut, marriage au

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 6.7k+

Warnings: swearing, both Yoongi and oc are in their 30s, mom and full-time worker!oc, reserved!dad!yoongi, lack of intimacy, mentions of body insecurities post-pregnancy, mentions of fear of abandonment, mentions of jealousy. irrational worries, built-up stress, light fighting, silent treatment, stubbornness, lots of reassurance, nightmares, cute backstory of how they met, a lot of ily, Yoongi and oc being good parents 🥹, Yoongi calls oc doll, and explicit sexual content

sexual warnings: swearing, kissing, neck kisses, pleading, banter, dirty talk, doll petname, asking for consent, b**b squeezing & sucking, hair threading, penetration, f*ngering, big d*ck!yoongi, growling, missi*nary, eye contact, tearing up, c*ming together

Now Playing: Breathing by Anne Marie

a/n: Okay this was for Yoon's bday. Based on the poll, husband!Yoon won. Was intended to be a Drabble but well...heh 😅 Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this fic and Yoon is just such a good hubby for responding well to these very relatable insecurities. (Low-key love this couple...) I'm sorry for any typos or warnings i missed! I checked and double checked but a few might have slipped. Enjoy! Anyway please enjoy! 🥰

“So, you're Jia's father, huh? I don’t think I've seen you here before, and I’m sure I would have recognized you.”

With his back straight and arms folded, Yoongi gives the woman in front of him a quick once-over. Mid-40s, freshly single, and definitely in need of some companionship. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out; she’s been talking his ear off for the past twenty minutes like he’s some kind of remedy to all her problems.

Honestly, he just swung by to pick up his four-year-old from daycare after another grueling day at work. But the moment he walked in, it was as if all the single moms latched onto him like a flock of hungry geese. This one’s name is Sandra in particular.

It reminds him of his college basketball days, how the cheerleaders all too eagerly swarmed around him after sinking the winning shot at the championship game. Shame he was too busy eyeing the girl in the stands to care, her face buried behind a book twice as big as her head. Who reads an 800-page novel during the playoffs anyway?

Fate, as one may call it, intervened about a week later when his best friend became said girl’s lab partner. Yoongi didn’t make any sudden moves at first, but well, he did make her his wife three years later.

“It’s just so nice to finally meet the father of such a sweet child. Especially considering how many dads tend to take a backseat in their child's early years.” Is she still going on? Yoongi does his best to stay present, though it’s proving unsuccessful. “And Jia truly is an angel! It’s clear you’re doing a wonderful job raising her, even with a full-time job and all.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows knit together at the somewhat odd choice of words. “Thanks,” he drawls out, noticing her pupils dilating with every breath. “Most of the credit goes to my wife though. She’s a great mom to Jia.”

“Jia’s m-mom?” Sandra stutters, her mouth slightly agape. Yoongi senses the gears turning in her head as she struggles to process the unexpected presence of his wife. Tempting as it is, he holds down a smirk. Of course, he’s a happily married man–for nearly eight years now.

“Yeah,” he replies simply. “She’s usually the one to pick up our daughter from daycare, but she’s been working a lot of overtime lately. I thought I'd come instead so she can get some rest."

“Oh, well that’s very–“

“Daddy! Daddy, you’re here!” The sound of a familiar high-pitched voice, along with a light pattering of feet, diverts both adult’s attention.

“Hey kid.” Yoongi effortlessly lifts the small child once in front of him, securing her in his arms. “Have fun today?”

Jia gives an enthusiastic nod, bright red ribbons in her hair bouncing cutely as she does. Proudly, she shows him the drawing she made.

“See? It’s me, you, and mommy!” She makes sure to point to each part of the picture with her pointer finger.

Yoongi gently takes the artwork from his daughter’s hand and lets out a soft chuckle. “Now this is what I call a masterpiece! Mommy’s gonna love hanging this one on the fridge. How about I hold onto this and you go grab your backpack, okay?”

As soon as Jia’s feet touch the carpeted floor again, she races off to her cubby in the far corner of the room. Yoongi shoots Sandra a final glance before slowly following behind. “We got to get going, but nice meeting you.”

“You…too.” Sandra’s response is more than disappointed as she watches the father-daughter duo make their way out of the building. Evidently, Min Yoongi isn’t the single dad she originally assumed. Funny, she swore there wasn’t a wedding band in sight. Maybe she missed it.

“No, I’m sorry but I’m certain we haven’t used any of your services in the last six months. My husband canceled it in late October.”

With one hand, you grip your cell phone up to an ear while the other pops open the dishwasher. You’ve been on the phone with the cable company for half an hour, trying to make sense of an unexpected charge that appeared on your bank account this morning. You consider yourself more patient than most, yet after working all day, a pile of laundry waiting to be washed, and dinner threatening to burn on the stove, the last thing you have time for is arguing with your old service provider.

“I understand, ma’am, and I apologize for any confusion. I’m taking a look at my records and they’re all showing me that—oh wait a second.”

The young man on the opposite end of the line interrupts his own thought, piquing your concern in the process.

“What did you say your last name is?”

You answer and in an instant, you’re met with a thousand rushed apologies; something about getting the account names mixed up in their system. It’s difficult to decipher everything you hear with the front door being thrust open that very moment.

“Mommy, where are you? We’re home!” Your daughter not so subtly announces her presence from the foyer. She kicks off her shoes, hangs her backpack on the designated wall hook, and then rushes to the kitchen upon catching a brief glimpse of your shirt.

“It’s alright, these mistakes happen.” You hang up the call and turn around to find Jia only steps away, a big goofy grin on her face. Infectious, you break out into a smile yourself and swoop her up.

“Hey honey, I missed you so much!” You kiss the side of your daughter’s head as she wraps her small arms around your neck. “You look so pretty with all these ribbons in your hair! Daddy did a good job, didn’t he?”

Being that you were called into work earlier than usual this morning, Yoongi was the one who got Jia dressed and ready for daycare. You’re delightfully surprised by the results.

“Mmhm,” Jia nods, twirling a couple of strands of hair between her thumb and forefinger. “But Daddy pulls too much!”

“Maybe if someone had listened and stopped fussing when I told her, I wouldn’t have accidentally yanked on her hair when I was reaching for her favorite Hello Kitty scrunchie.” Yoongi joins you both in the kitchen, walking over to press a quick peck on your lips while tenderly caressing the small of your back. The gesture soothes you of your earlier frustrations. “Who was that on the phone? Cable company?”

“Yeah, they canceled the charge. Wrong account.” As you reiterate the entire mix-up, your eyes wander all over your husband. He’s especially handsome tonight, given his perfectly tousled black hair and navy blue blazer flowing over his body. It’s tastefully oversized with a clean, white top paired underneath. You, on the other hand, are sporting a raggedy old t-shirt and stained sweatpants.

There was a time when you used to put a shit ton more effort into your appearance. It was before you got pregnant with Jia, back when you and Yoongi were going out on weekly dates. Neither of you has that kind of time anymore, or energy for that matter. You didn’t believe the other moms when they told you the romance takes a nose dive after you have your first kid. Yet here you are, proven wrong again.

Being parents to a beautiful baby girl is likely the most rewarding feeling in the world for you and Yoongi. You don’t remember the last time the two of you got real quality alone time though. And sex? Well, that hasn’t happened in weeks. The gravity of the situation weighs more on you with each passing day to be honest. Sure, you’re not the same person you used to be eight years ago, but shouldn’t you and Yoongi still make time for at least a little intimacy?

“How was picking up Jia by the way?” You look at Yoongi who merely shrugs nonchalantly in response.

“It was fine. Nothing too out of the ordinary,” Yoong gives you another peck before heading up the stairs to your bedroom. “I’m gonna go get changed. Why don’t you show Mommy the drawing you did Jia?”

“A drawing?” You shift your attention to your daughter whose eyes sparkle like diamonds upon mention. “We should put it up on the fridge then. Let’s take a look hmm?”

“It’s in my backpack! My new friend and I were drawing together. Her name is Mi-Sun.” Jia continues telling you all about her friend Mi-Sun as you make your way to the front door where her backpack hangs. You’re fully engaged until the very end. “Daddy made a new friend too!” she joyously claps her hands together, not realizing the depth of her remark.

“Oh, who’s Daddy’s new friend honey?” You ask, staying as calm as possible.

“Ms. Cho! They were talking for a really long time today.”

Ms. Cho? You think back to all the moms you’ve met at daycare. Somehow you can’t recall ever hearing or meeting a Ms. Cho. She must be a single mom, you deduce. Was she new? What did she look like? And why didn’t Yoongi mention her when you asked?

This has to be nothing but a little small talk, an acquaintance at most. Besides, the moms at Jia’s daycare are quite a chatty bunch and Yoongi wouldn’t dare overstep any boundaries.

“Do you know what they were talking about?” You don’t enjoy asking your child for details about your husband, yet you can’t seem to help it this time.

“I dunno,” she shrugs her shoulders. "Daddy was laughing a lot."

Suddenly, the self-assurance you gave yourself earlier slips away; seemingly useless given the queasy feeling building in the pit of your stomach.

For the remainder of the night, you purposely dodge every attempt your husband makes to kiss, touch, and hold you. You’ve even begun responding to his questions in one-word answers and at times, with nothing at all.

Yes, you’re being petty; more than usual. The silent treatment frustrates Yoongi to no end and it isn’t very mature of you, but neither is refusing to tell your wife that some single mom was flirting with you in front of your kid! Okay, so maybe that's an exaggeration. Maybe it all sums up to a harmless conversation, but it’s not like you know either way with Yoongi being as reserved as he is. It brings you back to your early dating days when he wouldn’t think to tell you about various aspects of his day; who he ate breakfast with that morning or the one classmate of his that wouldn’t leave him alone for two semesters.

Truth be told, you're simply hoping that your husband will bring up the topic first, without having to be the classic nagging wife. You’re a jealous person by nature so it’s not a simple task. Even now as you fold the first batch of laundry on your shared bed, him on the other side doing the same, you struggle to keep from blurting everything out.

“So,” Yoongi fluffs up a clean pillowcase before sliding it onto one of the bed pillows. “How was work?”

What a basic question, you grumble internally. Is that all he’s got? “Was okay,” you reply. “The usual.”

“You must be tired from the day. Did you get to lie down at all?” Yoongi picks up another pillowcase, repeating the process as before. When he glances your way, it’s clear something’s on your mind. You’ve started pairing Jia’s socks far more aggressively than normal and you’re holding back your responses. “Did you hear me, doll? Or am I going deaf here?” The sarcastic chuckle distracts you from your task, forcing your attention.

You’re about to respond when your eyes briefly flicker down to his hands, his left one in particular. Where's his wedding ring? Yoongi always wears it no matter what. The same sick feeling from before returns tenfold. No wonder that Ms. Cho was all over him–she must have thought he was single.

“No, I didn’t get to lie down Yoongi. I worked all day, came home and made dinner, called the cable guy to get that stupid bill figured out, and now I’m doing the second load of laundry. I’m really just not in the mood to chat.” It comes out a blur as you snatch the empty laundry basket and head for your washer and dryer, your eyes welling up with tears.

“__, wait.” Yoongi tosses the last pillow near the headboard and stops you in your tracks, his hand firmly gripping one end of the laundry basket. The intensity of his stare softens as he speaks. “I'm sorry if it seems like I'm forcing you to talk. I know you've been losing a lot of sleep recently between work, Jia, and upkeeping the house. We just don't get a lot of time to see each other anymore and I miss you…I miss talking to you."

With every ounce of self-control remaining, you hold back any tears that risk spilling out. You don't know why you're acting like this, why you're crying over something that seems so small and insignificant to the rest of the world. Yoongi loves you. He's said it a million times and proven it to you over and over again, for eight years now. He wouldn’t cheat on you, yet you still get so worked up about the idea that someone could take him away from you. Someone half your age, more attractive, or hell even the opposite sex if it means fewer dark circles under their eyes.

"Why- why aren't you wearing your ring?" Your naturally confident voice dwindles to the whisper of a mouse. It's completely out of character, nevertheless, here you are.

"I..." Your husband's voice wavers. His gaze flickers to his left hand, where his ring should be, but isn't. "Shit...I took it off in the shower this morning," he confesses, frustrated by his forgetfulness. "I was in such a rush to get Jia to daycare, and me to work, that it completely slipped my mind. I'm sorry—I fully intended to put it back on." He pauses, then perks up. "It's still in the bathroom. I'll be right back, okay?"

You watch as he makes a beeline for the master bathroom, eager to rectify the situation as soon as possible. You should have kept silent what you say next, but you don't.

"No wonder the moms at Jia's daycare were so drawn to you."

"What?" Yoongi stops in his tracks. The dumbfounded expression on his face tells you that you've caught him off guard again.

"Jia told me about someone named Ms. Cho," you reluctantly continue. "The two of you were laughing and talking and–"

"Baby, don't worry about that." Seizing his chance, your husband walks back over to you and sneakily pulls the laundry basket from under your arm. He sets it on the ground after, then reaches to take your hand in his, but stubbornly you cross your arms.

"Her name's Sandra," he starts explaining. "She's a new mom at the daycare and she didn't know anyone, so she started talking to me. I got the sense she was a little overly friendly but it was all small talk, nothing more."

Still largely unsatisfied, you remain unmoved. "If it wasn't a big deal then why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Because nothing serious happened. The majority of the conversation was her venting about her ex-husband and me wishing you were right there next to me. Please believe me. All I could think about was finally being able to come home to you after a long week with Jia in our arms."

"Really?" Well, now you're feeling guilty for avoiding him in nearly every way tonight. Guilty for believing such wild assumptions that he'd leave you for someone else over one measly conversation. Guilty for letting yourself get so worked up over a situation you, quite frankly, knew few details about.

"I mean it doll." This time, when he reaches out to grasp your wrist, he succeeds. He intertwines his fingers with yours and leads you to the edge of your bed, gently pulling you down to sit on his lap. "Do you really think I could look at anyone else the way I look at you? Or think about you the way I have for the last eight-plus years we've been married and known each other?"

You hesitate your answer, averting his eye contact. "I know but…"

"No, don't finish that. Look at me," he intercepts. "You and our daughter are the only women on my mind–24/7. I can't get either of you out of my head and I don't want to. I'm so sorry I forgot to put my wedding band back on this morning, and again tonight. I feel awful about it and I'll be more careful from now on. And another thing, when Sandra and I were talking I mentioned you multiple times. So, it's clear to her that I'm a happily married man."

The last bit of information manages to perk your ears. "You talked about me?" Your eyes widen as you finally shift your full attention to him. Yoongi eyes widen with you, amused by your sudden change of heart to look at him.

"I said my wife is an amazing mother, works too hard for her own good, and needed to rest today. Give or take a few words."

That's all? You huff to yourself. Would it been nice if your husband also thrown in that you were beautiful or stunning in that mix of compliments? Yes, yes it would have–again, you're pettiness clouds your better judgment. You're not as pissed off as before, but rather semi-irritated.

"Okay…well I guess it's fine then. I'm sorry for being short with you earlier. I shouldn't have made those rash conclusions about the ring and that woman from the daycare. It wasn't reasonable of me." You get up from his lap, yet Yoongi isn't entirely convinced that you're okay.

"There's still something you're not telling me. I can tell."

"No, there's nothing else." You waive him off, placing your hand on your bedroom doorknob "You told her you had a wife so it's fine. I need to switch the second load of laundry.”

"Come on, doll. Let's not leave things unsaid now."

Sighing at his plead, you find yourself giving into all your repressed thoughts and emotions. It swallows you up, like a tidal wave you can't stop. "Look at me Yoon. I'm sweaty, I have dark circles under my eyes, stretch marks, love handles, my hair's a mess, and all I wear are old sweats covered in stains. I'm nothing like I used to be! No wonder we aren't intimate anymore."

Yoongi rises from the bed at once, offended by the sudden digression. "Is that what this is all about? It’s not even about that single mom from daycare is it?" The truth of the matter sinks in as he speaks.

"I guess maybe so…though I'm still annoyed about that too." Great, you're back to square one again.

"Come with me, I need to show you something." Your husband gestures you to follow him, which you slowly concede to.

"What are you doing Yoon?" You both walk into the master bathroom, stopping in front of the large mirror above the sink.

"I'm showing you the woman I'm in love with and have been in love with for nearly eight years now. Sweats and all." Yoongi makes you face the mirror directly, hands around your shoulders. You have trouble stomaching the sight.

"Yoongi please, I can't. The laundry ringing off." You avoid looking into the mirror and make a move to leave the bathroom.

"Just stay with me a minute, please?" Your husband refuses to loosen his hold on you, turning your body so you're looking eye to eye. "No, you're not the same person as you were and neither am I. We're parents to a beautiful daughter now, who we love and adore. We're also overtired 90% of the time, juggling a million things at once. But there's one thing you can count on to always stay the same–my loyalty to you. I'll always be in love with you __, no matter what age you are or however way you look. There's nothing you can do to change that, so why fight it?"

Dammit. A single tear rolls down your cheek as you take in his heart-melting speech. It's not his words alone, it's the sincerity behind them. How he's repeated similar countless times before throughout your entire relationship.

"I love you, Yoon..." you choke out the words, composure fleeting.

"I love you so much, doll." He wipes the wetness of your tear with his thumb. "As far as us not being as intimate anymore, that's my fault. I don't ever want you to feel like I don't desire you every day. Why don't we send the kid to my parents this weekend and let me start making things right hmm?"

"I don't know if we can this weekend. Jia has a playdate on Saturday."

"So, I'll ask Mom to take her. She'll be happy to, trust me. We can finally watch that movie you've been dying to show me since what? December?"

"You're serious?" Your eyes light up at the mention of what is essentially a movie date. The show Yoongi's referring to is one you've been craving to see for months, yet neither of you has found the time to watch. "I've been talking about it for so long, Yoon."

"I know you have, it's why I suggested it. I've been wanting to watch it too with all the trailers you keep sending me. Plus, I'll be able to keep my beautiful wife in my arms for over two hours. That's a lot for us, especially with you being such a busy bee. I can never get you to light in one place! What's up with that, huh?"

Feeling your natural self re-emerging, you throw a playful swat to his arm and scowl at his teasing comment. "You're one to talk! You're basically a workaholic! Besides, you knew who you were marrying when you met me."

Yoongi chuckles and brings both hands to cup your cheeks, squishing them slightly. "A cutie who reads 800-page novels at a basketball game?"

"Stop babying me!" You pull his hands off your cheeks and rub them, trying to regain some composure. "I don't regret my choices, I like books. It's why I'm such a boss at work!"

"Okay, boss," he laughs. "What about what I suggested before then? I can call Mom tomorrow and ask her if she could watch Jia for the day. She'll take her to her playdate, then they can spend the rest of the day together."

It does sound nice, having the whole day with your husband.

"Okay," you agree. "Let's try."

"Good." Yoongi slides his hands down to your hips and pulls you flush against his chest. "How about we seal it with a kiss now?" You nod and he leans his head down, pressing an amazing, tender kiss to your lips. It makes you both giddy on queue.

"Read one more story, Daddy!" Jia leaps off her small, twin bed and bounds for her bookshelf. She lets out a series of giggles when a large pair of hands catch her, lifting her high into the air.

"I already read you three books kid," Yoongi says, planting a kiss on her cheek. "Bedtime." He then tucks her into her fluffy comforter, plugs in her teddy bear nightlight, and closes her bedroom door.

The next second, Jia comes running out of her room, latching onto his right leg. "I don't wanna go to bed. I wanna play!" Figures she'd be hyper at this hour.

Yoongi sighs and picks her up. "Daddy told you to go to sleep, it's not playtime. You'll have lots of time for that tomorrow when you get to see your friend." He then carries her into her room, yet she fusses in his arms; thumping her tiny fists into his chest.

"No, no, no, Daddy. I want to play!"

Sighing, Yoongi looks at his child with sharp eyes. "Jia–"

"Hey," you interrupt, entering your daughter's bedroom upon hearing the commotion down the hall. "What's going on?"

"Kid doesn't want to go to bed."

You give an empathetic look and saunter over to the pair, gently taking Jia into your arms. Yoongi places his hands on his hips as he watches you reason with your daughter.

"Jia, you know tomorrow's a big day right? You and Sana are going to go to the playground together." The child nods. "You don't want to be tired when you're playing do you?"

"No..." She shakes her head. "I want to be awake!"

"Then you need to listen to Daddy and go to sleep. That way you'll be full of energy tomorrow when you and Sana go on the swings or slide down all the big slides." You smile as Jia starts rubbing her drowsy eyes, yawning in the process.

"But I...okay," she slowly concedes, eyes fluttering shut as she gives into her sleepy state. Unsurprising to you and Yoongi, she was tired all along. But like most kids, hated going to bed.

"See?" You lay Jia in her bed and pull the covers up near her chin, giving her a light kiss on the side of her head. Yoongi bends down and does the same after you. "You just gotta talk to her a little, she'll typically fall asleep on her own."

"But I read her three of her favorite books." Yoongi shuts off the overhead light, along with the door to Jia's room, and follows you to your bedroom.

"That's different Yoon," you argue back. "Books excite her."

"She takes after you that way then." Yoongi pulls his t-shirt off, leaving him bare-chested, and climbs onto his side of the bed. You join him shortly after with your head resting on his chest and an arm thrown around his waist.

"I'm so exhausted," you yawn.

"Go to sleep, baby. I'm right here." Your husband places a hand over your wrapped arm, sending you off into a deep slumber.

Well this is just ironic. Almost 2 A.M. and you're wide awake.

What initially started as a nice, relaxing dream quickly turned into a terrible nightmare. In the dream, you woke up alone. Yoongi was gone. Jia was gone too. You can't exactly make sense of it, except for a vague memory of Jia calling another woman 'Mom'. You couldn't see her face very well, so it could've been anyone. You couldn't speak either, so even when you tried approaching the three, they couldn't hear you. You've had nightmares plenty of times, but this one is new. It's a clear projection of all the underlying concerns upheaved from earlier; insecurities, abandonment, loss, and it has you unsettled.

You glance over to your husband's side of the bed. He's fast asleep, no longer cuddling you due to you both flip-flopping in your sleep. You decide to slide closer to him, needing to watch him for a while. It might sound weird, but you love watching him sleep. He's so handsome and you feel a great deal of comfort doing so. Maybe if he was awake, you'd tell him about what you dreamt. Then again...maybe not.

"I love you Yoon," you whisper as quietly as you can, tracing his every facial feature with your eyes.

"'m, I love you too."

Is he-was he awake? As if caught red-handed, you quickly flit your face away in favor of the blank ceiling above. You weren't expecting him to answer at all, and in such a hoarse voice too. You're a little turned on by it to be honest.

"Can't sleep?" he speaks up again, eyes still closed.

"No, I''ll be okay though. You can go back to sleep. Don't worry."

He grunts, a tad unhappy with your dismissal of him. "Do you want to talk about it? Your dream?"

You whip your head in his direction. "How–" You pause, seeing his eyes blink open.

"I didn't meet you just yesterday, doll. I know they keep you up. Just know, I'm always here okay? Always." He reaches for you with delicate fingers as he continues. "Now, come here. Seems we got separated in our sleep."

You accept the offer and cuddle into him again. This time your noses nearly touch and his arm wraps around your lower waist. You feel the growing urge to kiss him, wanting to forget your nightmare entirely. But perhaps silly, you ask permission first, seeing as he's close to drifting off again.

"Yoon?"

"Mm."

"Can we kiss?" Your cheeks flush a little at the request. Why are you acting like this? You've been married for years.

"Sure, 'm tired but I could go for a make-out right now." A small smirk graces his lips as he teases you. You give him a classic 'Yoongi!' in reply. "I'm kidding. You don't ever have to ask me that," he finishes.

"Hmm, maybe I don't want a kiss anymore." You feign stubbornness, just to see his response. And a response he gives you, more than you're prepared for.

"You're ridiculous," he grumbles, capturing your lips in one fell swoop. He moves his lips against yours as the hand on your waist grips tighter. The tiniest of moans escapes your lips.

You attempt to break the kiss first, thinking it will only last for a few seconds. Yet Yoongi slips a hand behind your neck to bring you into another kiss. One that's deeper than the last. You feel your breath being taken away little by little, especially when his tongue licks into your mouth. God, you haven't kissed like this in an eternity. A wetness soon gathers between your thighs.

"'m, Yoon," you gasp when his cool fingers sneakily make their way under your shirt, tickling your bare skin. They travel the expanse of your waist, stomach, and up along your back. "So cold."

Yoongi pulls away from the kiss and retracts his fingers. He then lazily moves his body until his chest hovers over your own, rolling you on your back in the process. He's a bit of a blur due to the dimness of the room, yet you can see the whites of his eyes a bit better than before.

"Help me warm them then," he says, folding his hands on top of yours from where they rest on your stomach. "You're really burning up, doll."

His observation is right. Ever since you woke up, you're body's been hotter than normal. The stress is clear and it's only increasing due to the unexpected turn of tonight's events; your husband seemingly wanting to make love to you in the middle of the night.

"So I am," you reply, staring straight into his eyes. "Must be because of all the sudden surprises today. My body's finally responding to it all."

Yoongi nods, following your implication. "Well let's do something to calm it down, shall we?" He waits for your final go before making any abrupt movements.

"But...you haven't seen me–"

"Naked in a while?" he predicts your next words, unfazed. "I've seen it all, each time better than the last because I love you. You're beautiful to me, no matter what. Let me love you __. I've missed you. I've missed us."

"Okay...please," you sigh, desperately needing his touch. "It's been so long since we've been this close."

Neither of you has it in you to delay another second as you dive into another fiery kiss, your hands wandering up and down each other's bodies. You love his hair the most, so you run your fingers through it repeatedly. Your husband's soft grunts remind you that it's as pleasurable for him as it is for you, and as if to counter, he latches his lips to the curve of your neck.

"Yoon," you moan, shivering at the feeling of being peppered in open-mouth kisses. Your eyes automatically roll up as well.

Yoongi nips at your jaw next, featherlike, yet deadly to you nevertheless. He doesn't allow himself to linger more than a second, though, preferring to keep you on your toes. So with careful fingers, he begins lifting the bottom of your shirt.

"Can I?"

You hum in approval and lean forward for him to remove it.

With your nipples now exposed to the brisk air, stiffening due to arousal, Yoongi brings both his hands up to caress your boobs. He's incredibly gentle, telling you how beautiful you are once again until his thumbs start circling your peaked nipples. A rush of sensation shoots up your spine as he rolls them harder, flicking them once in a while.

"Fuck," you swear.

"Feeling good?"

All you do is nod fervently in response, which Yoongi takes as his signal to lower his head to your chest. He squeezes both breasts in his hand before wrapping his mouth around a nipple, licking and sucking relentlessly. He repeats the same to the other.

"Yoongi, I need you. Please." You're core tightens, thighs struggling not to rub together, as you plead with your husband to relieve you. You are so wet and getting wetter.

"I'm here, doll, I got you. Fingers first hm?"

He pushes part of the comforter towards the foot of the bed, then gestures for you to raise your butt. Any shred of mystery of how worked up he's gotten you slip away as he pulls your underwear and pants down your legs. They both get tossed on the floor, per usual.

Bare pussy exposed, Yoongi guides your legs further apart and brings a hand down to your entrance. One of his long, slender fingers traces up your folds so smoothly that you buck your hips upon the touch. He smiles lightly at the subtle response, pleased that you're finally enjoying yourself; too often you put your needs last. His finger slowly sinks into your well-lubricated pussy, velvety walls clenching around it.

"Oh, g-god," you give a shaky moan as his finger pumps and curls in you, stimulating your g-spot. "Need you now, Yoon, so bad."

"Mm not yet, we need to stretch you out. You haven't taken me for a good three or four weeks," he smirks at your eagerness, sliding a second finger next to the first. "This pussy is drenched but not enough. I need you to come. Can you do that for me?"

Fast, quick movements follow suit as your husband works you up to an orgasm. Oh fuck, oh fuck, you chant in near whines. Your pussy is spasming around him, walls tightening with each push and pull. You know when he draws his hand out that it's covered with your come. Messy, sex is messy and both of you are too far gone to care; the pleasure sweeping over you.

Finally, in what feels like an endless tease, you have your first orgasm of the night. You feel your body relaxing into the mattress again, yet your breath remains short. Yoongi, on the other hand, groans seeing your release dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets. For a split second, there's a slight darkening in his eyes while he takes in your post-orgasmic form. The two fingers that had been inside you are sensually brought to his lips, slipping between the seam before being cleaned off.

You're taken aback by the action, though you've witnessed it before. Something about watching your husband willingly follow through with a gesture so lewd makes your head spin–you want him to fuck you right this instant. He must share the same feeling because you don't even need to sound the words due to his hands already making quick work of his pants.

"You drive me mad, you know that? Can never get a break with how sweet you taste. Your lips, your come. All of it makes me go mad." His full length comes in view, hard and tip leaking with pre-cum. You try not to let yourself stare at the thickness but hell, you must've forgotten the extent of your husband's size. You don't remember it being this big before.

"Well," you gulp. "You're not making it easy on me either, looking like this."

Yoongi climbs over to you again, settling into a straddled position, and looks deep into your eyes. "Who's fault do you think that is?"

"It's your fault." You bend your legs and wrap them around his mid-section. You can feel the tip of his cock tease at your entrance. The anticipation is beyond grueling.

"No," he says, aligning himself up to your weeping hole. "it's yours." He then thrusts his hips forward, his length sinking into you so perfectly it has you completely satisfied.

"Y-Yours," you whimper out, unable to form a steady sentence.

"Fine." He picks up his pace. "Let's just agree we both fuck each other up on a daily---ah fuck!" Yoongi growls and gives you a suspicious look when he feels your pussy suddenly clench around his length.

"I didn't do it on purpose this time! You're fucking me too good is all."

"Really? You're not just teasing me?"

Yoongi is slow to believe since you've purposefully clenched countless times before, simply out of playfulness. Tonight is different than those nights though because you're telling the truth–he's truly fucking you so good.

"What the hell," he concedes. "You feel so fucking fantastic, I don't even care." He continues his movements, thrusting into you with deep groans and labored breaths. His fingers grip the mattress harder with the veins in his neck bulging out.

Both your bodies move in sync as the familiar sound of skin slapping on skin echoes off the walls of your bedroom. You do your best to keep your moans low, not wanting to risk waking up your daughter.

"Yoon, fuck! I need to come, it's gonna-fuck-happen soon," you swear, pussy throbbing at the feeling of being so full after weeks of abstinence. You can tell you're reaching your high with the bundle of nerves in your core threatening to snap at any given moment.

Of course, you're wet too, extremely wet.

"I'm. Nearly. There." He barely sounds the words out, jaw clenching. "Just another minute, and we can finish together."

Your eyes, which haven't left his since he entered you, begin to glass over with tears. It's overwhelming; his love for you. No matter the doubts that tell you the opposite, you can't give in to their ugly lies. You'll continue to struggle, naturally, but you won't ever let them win. Yoongi's never once given up on you, and neither should you.

"I love you, Yoon...I love you with all my soul," you choke the words, falling apart all at once. "I'm sorry for today. How jealous and irrational I got."

"Don't apologize, doll. I shouldn't have let it go so far, our lack of intimacy and alone time. I promise we're going to make it all right okay?"

Giving you one last thrust, you both have your release at the same time. Yoongi helps ride your orgasm out by lazily continuing to grind into you. Yeah, you might need to shower and switch out the sheets after tonight, but you don't regret it one bit.

"In all seriousness baby," Yoongi speaks up, guiding your legs back on the soft mattress until you’re comfortable. "Don't feel like you have to apologize for everything. I understand your feelings and where you were coming from. I will say, the silent treatment kills me though. I'd rather you yell at me than not talk to me at all."

"It's not easy for me to raise my voice like that, Yoon." You throw your arms around his neck and sigh softly. "But I can try talking to you more, or at least tell you I need some time to process before I'm ready to have a conversation. I don't know, am I making sense?"

"Plenty of sense. I'll share more about my day with you and who I'm talking to as well. We'll also carve out time to have together. I love our daughter, but I don't see the harm in reaching out to our friends and family to babysit once in a while."

"Well, this sounds good to me," you hum.

"Me too." Yoongi smiles wide and goes in for another warm kiss. Your eyes flutter shut in unison.

This is what love feels like.

a/n: LMK what you think 🥰

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#yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #bts imagine #bts smut #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts au #fic:whatlovefeelslike #kookslastbutton

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happysnowseal · 4 months ago

Text

Deals and Desires (final)

Sylus x OC | Midnight Stealth!AU

genre: smut, lil’ comedy, enemies to enemies who fuck

rating: explicit

description: You fail to find the brooch within 24 hours, so the twins suggest you offer Sylus something else in return for getting into the auction—your body. Turns out, your desires are aligned, no matter how twisted they seem.

word count: 8.8k

warnings: IMPROPER use of Evol, tentacle smut, “rope” bondage, lore from Midnight Stealth and the two chapters we meet Sylus (duh), Luke and Kieran being instigators, mentions of hentai, OC’s turned on by Sylus and his Evol and is conflicted, rough sex, breast play, fingering, oral sex (male and female receiving), double penetration, unprotected sex (this is fiction), standing 69, mirror sex, sneaky sex, electrostimulation, cum eating, multiple rounds.

a/n: IT IS DONE. IT IS HERE! I made a post saying imagine Sylus manipulating his Evol into tentacles to fuck OC with… and voila! This was born. I incorporated a lot of the game dialogue/events but also put my own spin on it. Asks, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated! 💌

You must be sick in the head.

Ever since you witnessed those black-red tendrils dissipate the man in black who abducted you into nothing but mere crimson specks, something strange awoke in you. Witnessing such a cruel death shouldn’t pique your curiosity, but beneath your horrified expression was a deep fascination for the leader of Onychinus’ powers. Not that you’d ever tell him.

A simple flick of the wrist or snap of the fingers is all it takes to summon those menacing black-red tendrils. The powerful mist would coil your vulnerable body, manipulate it, bind it—all for his intentions of resonating with you.

However, as the shopkeeper had stated, you can’t resonate with him. On a subconscious level, you’re rejecting him, scared of him, or disgusted by him. So you wonder: is it possible to fear him yet desire him also?

When Sylus proposed a deal that would aid you in your quest for the Aether Core, you couldn’t resist. You had twenty-four hours to find a brooch he had hidden somewhere in Onychinus’ base. Yet despite searching every nook and cranny, you came up short of nothing.

The first time Sylus caught you, he was reading a book on the couch. His calm demeanor didn’t match his appearance, which screamed sin. The gold-rimmed glasses on his face matched a gentlemanly scholar's, but his body was adorned in a lavish red robe, with a V-line low enough to expose his toned pecs. Seriously, who was he showing off for?

“Get out.”

Once you were caught snooping, the same black-red mist formed make-shift handcuffs that bound your wrists. You groaned, dwelling on your loss.

The second time he caught you was when he was dusting his shelves, his back toward you. He was no longer in his robe, having changed into a black dress shirt and matching slacks. Without sparing you a glance, one word left his lips.

“Leave.”

The black-red tendrils were back around your wrists and you whined. “Ugh… I was caught again…”

Third time’s the charm, right? You had your gun loaded and after cocking it, you said to yourself, “This time for sure, I’ll…”

A pair of black slippers showed up in your peripheral and you slowly looked up to see the same, steeled expression in those crimson eyes and that cursed red robe again. It was like a second skin on him at this point. He let out a weighted sigh, which diminished your confidence.

“... I know. I’ll go now,” you said, defeated. He didn’t use his Evol this time, and you’re at war with yourself as to why you even noticed. Or why it mattered so much.

The last time Sylus caught you was the worst. He was in the shower, so you seized the chance to search his bedroom. Desperate, you even sunk to the low level of animal abuse when you shook Mephisto, his crow with mechanical wings, like a piggy bank for answers.

That’s when Sylus turned off the water and panic struck you, so you hid. There was a small window of opportunity to escape, but a phone call came in, deterring your plans. He answered, you eavesdropped, and when things were getting juicy, he noticed your presence and chuckled.

“Mr. Sylus?” the man on the call said.

“It’s nothing. Just a stray cat who happened to barge in.”

This time Sylus not only apprehended you by the wrists, he lifted you in the air as black-red mist swirled around his left hand. The call ends as he sets you down on the bed, and you wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole. Not because you failed, but because you didn’t want to face the humiliation of how his Evol brought back a certain spark you thought fizzled out.

Sylus’ back was turned, selecting a record before placing it on his record player.

“Have I underestimated your determination or overestimated your intellect?” he asked. You stared at your bound wrists, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down your spine.

“You’re the one who suggested a deal. But here you are making things difficult—” you said, fiddling with your thumbs. He approached you, a stern look flashing across his sharp features.

“You’ll have to work harder.”

He grabbed one of your wrists, and red sirens went off in your head. Your mind raced a mile a minute, wondering what his intentions were as he dragged you off the bed. You commanded him to let go, and he obliged, but only after he shoved you out of his room.

“Leave,” he said, his head gesturing to your right, “I’m going to bed.”

At least he kicked Mephisto out too, so you didn’t have to face the loss alone.

Which brings you to the present. You’re scribbling doodles of the bastard as an outlet for your anger, making the stylish choice of adding devil horns on top of his head.

It’s bad enough you’ve been trapped in Onychinus’s base for who knows how long. The man who’s held you captive should be your worst enemy, yet every encounter ignites an inferno in the pit of your stomach. Try as you may, but the dark thoughts you shove in the back of your mind are bubbling to the surface. If anything could anchor you back to reality, it’d be this—remember the mission.

You were to get into the auction to find the Aether core, which you can’t do without his help. But you couldn’t find that stupid brooch, so you’re back to square one. You scrawl over the sketch of Sylus, the pressure harsh enough that the paper threatens to tear until only a tornado of black ink is left.

“You’re pulling your hair out over this, huh?” Kieran says, sitting atop a table with his back towards you. He looks over his shoulder, so his voice will reach better. “If you want to do something, maybe we can help you.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, casting the notebook aside.

“If you want to conquer our boss’s heart, you’ll have to use a different approach,” Luke says, leaning back in his chair.

“I’m not trying to conquer his heart. He’s trying to conquer mine if anything,” you retort, folding your arms across your chest as you stand. Luke pulls a book from underneath the table and slides it across in your direction. You walk over, pick it up, and drop it just as quickly like it was a ticking time bomb. “What the fuck?!”

“Strike when he’s off-guard!” the twins chorus with Kieran leaning forward as Luke makes claws with his hands.

“Yeah, I suppose anyone who receives a hentai novel would be caught off-guard! What’s wrong with you two?!” You have to tear yourself away from looking at the erotic cover, depicting an anime girl being fucked by black tentacles belonging to what seems to be a demonic being. He had it all: horns atop his head, ebony eyes, endless tendrils, and a smokin’ hot bod like Sy—wait. No. Don’t look at it anymore. Even sparing it another glance feels like corruption and sin.

Luke chuckles, taking the explicit material back and flipping it open to a specific page. “For some people, they get bored once they have everything. So only those who dare to challenge their authority can catch their interest,” he reads.

Kieran’s sharp memory allows him to quote the story without having it in his hands. "When you're dealing with such a person, you bow down and submit or take them out in one go."

“What are you on about?” you ask, exasperated they’re quoting the pornography like it’s a holy scripture. Luke shuts the book and slides it towards you again, but you grimace like it’ll taint your soul.

“If you don’t want to conquer his heart, perhaps it’d be smarter if you conquer his… desires.”

“If you bow down and submit, maybe our Boss will have a change of heart and help you get into the auction. I mean, no one’s ever offered him their body,” Kieran adds. Your hands fall to your side, balling into fists until your knuckles turn white.

“I’d rather take him out in one go,” you say through gritted teeth. It’s not like you haven’t tried. However, the crazy bastard used you to shoot himself in the chest and you haven’t been the same since. Man thinks he has regenerative healing properties and he’s all that. Pfft. “You two are insane if you think being promiscuous is the solution.”

“In the end, Boss wants to resonate with you. You don’t have to like him, but your body can. Think about it,” Kieran insists, tilting his chin down slightly. The mask he wore shields his face, but you can imagine the impish grin from his inflection. “There’s nothing more intimate than spending a night together.”

“Read the comic,” Luke says, and you can tell from his tone he’s smirking despite the matching mask on his face. “Maybe you’ll find it enjoyable.”

“N-No. This is insanity. You’re telling me your Boss wants to fuck someone with his Evol as… tentacles?”

“Now you see why no one’s ever offered their body,” Kieran says matter-of-factly.

“This is stupid,” you mutter, clasping a hand to your forehead. “I’d rather die than fuck Sylus.”

“She might die even if she does fuck Sylus.” Kieran’s quick to elbow his brother in the side, and your heart is lodged in your throat, beating so loudly like it’s about to burst. He’s right. You could. You’ve seen what his Evol could do to a person.

But you’ve also thought about what it could do for a person. For you.

“Just… think about it,” Kieran says, his voice gentle like he’s coaxing a kitten out of its hiding spot. “If you give our Boss his ultimate desire, I’m sure he’ll do the same for you. You’ve never once thought about him in such a way? You’re not a tad bit curious?”

Luke and Kieran were treading dangerous waters. These two instigators somehow burrowed into your subconscious, forcing you to come face-to-face with your depravity.

You roll your eyes to maintain aloofness, but the book ends up in your possession seconds later. “I’m taking this for research. You’re sure this belongs to him?”

“Absolutely!” they chorus and you’re not sure hearing double aids their credibility.

“Boss is least guarded when he’s sleeping,” Kieran informs. Aren’t we all?

“You only have one shot,” Luke says, emphasizing his point by sticking up his forefinger. “Don’t waste this chance. Just do it!” He gives you a supportive fist pump and you peer down at the lewd book cover again.

What choice did you have? The twins presented a rather salacious solution, but Sylus was your only means of getting into the auction. As Luke said, if you can’t conquer his heart, perhaps you can conquer his desires.

No matter how twisted.

Three hours later…

Time slips away from you as you’re engrossed in your “research.” Not only was it full of filth, but the plot (if you can even call it that), was eerily similar to your situation. The girl on the cover was a demon hunter who fucks a demon to get him to do what she needs. Every drawing is breathtaking, detailed, and graphic. The way his tentacles bent her body to his will, the various positions, how it slithered around her body—it awoke the same feelings you had the night you met Sylus.

The dialogue instilled shame, lust, and more than enough sexual tension to charge a lightning storm. You had to pause every few pages, fanning your face until your cheeks cooled enough to continue. An earthquake couldn’t pry this masterpiece from your grasp and you were determined to finish it.

Once you’re done, you slam the book shut. You take a deep breath, regaining a sense of clarity when a realization dawns on you.

This was why Sylus’s Evol fascinated you. How every time he manipulated your body, a surge of adrenaline coursed through your body until your heart nearly gave out. You indeed feared him; everyone did. But fear was a mask you’ve clung onto so desperately to disguise the dark truth.

Sylus could’ve killed you at any time, but he chose not to. Sure, he has ulterior motives, but the control he has over his power is undeniably sexy, and knowing he can’t kill you meant you had control over him too.

You’ve hidden your desires under revulsion and endless banter when maybe he was right. You’re two kindred spirits, who are more alike than you want to admit. Someone created this book to satisfy the same urges you’ve been depriving yourself of and if Sylus indulged in these fantasies, then you’re not insane for wanting the same thing.

You’ve made up your mind.

If you offer your body to Sylus, it’s a win-win. You’ll get into the auction and you no longer have to feel ashamed about wanting him.

For the mission of course.

You head to Sylus’s bedroom, standing outside the wooden double doors. A pair of Evol-sealing handcuffs are in your possession, courtesy of the twins. You place them in your back pocket and rest your hands on the gold handles, giving yourself a mental pep-talk.

All or nothing!

You turn the handles and march in, seeing Sylus sleeping in his canopy bed with his back against the plush headboard instead of the mattress.

Is he a vampire? Eh. Red eyes, white hair, gorgeous—might as well be.

Climbing onto the bed gently, you watch his chest heave, his breathing evident but it’s so light that you’re tempted to press your ear against his chest to ensure he’s alive.

“Sylus… Sylus?” you say, confirming his dormant status. A soft chuckle escapes you as you whip out the handcuffs, lifting his wrist and attaching it to the golden vintage bed frame. “This is what you get.”

Now that he’s immobile, you can’t help your feasting eyes from ogling his exposed skin. That red robe was both a curse and a blessing, a warning of caution, yet you choose to ignore it. You hover your finger above his abdomen, contemplating whether to make contact when a hand snatches your wrist, lifting it to eye level.

“Showing up uninvited at this hour… Want me to tell you a bedtime story?” he says before tossing your wrist aside. You place both hands on either side of his head and his eyes slightly widen, but he remains composed. This would be a lot easier if you straddled him, but patience was a virtue.

“These handcuffs nullify a person’s Evol for an hour,” you declare. He stares at the restraints, his face devoid of emotion before settling his attention back on you. “No matter how powerful you are, you’re helpless as of now.”

“Really?” he asks, the corner of his lips hinting at a small smile. It’s subtle and leaves as soon as it comes. “What do you plan to do then since I’ve become your prey?”

You remove your hands and lean back to sit on your knees. “You’re going to listen to my counteroffer.”

To your surprise, he nods like he has nothing better to do. Maybe the cuffs weren’t necessary. “I’m intrigued. Continue.”

Clasping your hands together, you clear your throat like you had prepared a speech when in reality, your brain is scrambled. What are you supposed to say?

Hey Sylus, do you want to fuck and use your Evol on me like tentacles? It’ll help us resonate!

You might as well put a big fat sticker on your head that says “FREE $.99! FUCK NOW!” and get it over with.

“I’m getting bored,” he states, stirring you from disorganized thoughts. You press your lips into a thin line, mustering whatever courage you have left.

“Look… from the beginning, you trapped me here, forced me to resonate with you, and even said ‘we’re the same’...” You wet your lips out of habit to calm your nerves, and he doesn’t miss it. “I couldn’t find the brooch in time and need your help to get into the auction. And you want to be able to resonate with me. So…”

“Get to the point.”

“I’m offering you my body for the night,” you blurt out. He raises an eyebrow and his usually calm demeanor breaks for the first time as a flicker of confusion dances across his face. You would take pride in that, but his face quickly morphs, so you jump out of bed with your hands up, worried he’d deny you. “Hold on. Let me explain.”

Not like he had a choice. The fact he was handcuffed eludes you for a moment, but once you remember, it eases the tension in your shoulders. He waits for you to continue, the smug look on his face not helping to ease your nerves.

“I don’t like you and you don’t like me. But you want to resonate with me, so if we sleep together, maybe… I’ll hate you less. Besides, we have similar desires. I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

His eyes glint a haunting crimson from the golden glow of his night lamp. “Do tell. How do I look at you?”

Your knees almost buckle from his deep, smooth voice. “Like… Like… you hate me.”

“Astonishing misunderstanding. Yet somehow you’ve concluded this means we should sleep together?”

You might as well die of embarrassment. “If it’s for the mission, I can detach my personal feelings. We do this and there’s a chance I’ll be able to resonate with you better. After all, what’s more intimate than spending the night together? It’ll work unless… you’re inadequate in bed.”

It’s brief, but you’re sure Sylus clenches his jaw as his lips press into a slight frown, his eyes narrowed on you with laser-like focus. You turn away from him, smacking your cheek like a spanking for being stupid enough to question Onychinus’ leader’s skills in bed.

“Are you done?”

You whip your head around. “Um… yes.”

An exasperated sigh escapes him. “You say you failed to locate the brooch, but your twenty-four hours aren’t up yet. There’s still time.”

You place one hand on your hip while the other waves him off, dismissing his words. “I’ve searched everywhere already!”

“Everywhere. But not everyone.”

The light bulb in your head goes off and you’re back by Sylus’ side on the bed, holding your palm out like an entitled brat.

“Where’s the brooch?”

His smile reaches his eyes and he gestures his free hand across the expanse of his body top to bottom. “Help yourself.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

You run your fingers along the black lapels on his robe, checking the inside layer first. The fabric is silky smooth to the touch, but you’re distracted by how hot his skin is on the back of your fingers. No brooch though.

Next, you check the outside of the lapels and sure enough, you feel a hard, circular object. Pulling it out, you see the crow brooch with a lustrous ruby in the center. You giggle with glee.

“Do you really think I hate you?” he questions.

“Now it doesn’t matter at all. I won!”

“Deals have conditions and my condition wasn’t met. The offer has expired already.”

“But you said…”

Shit. The handcuffs on Sylus start to glow red, similar to how blacksmiths heat materials in a furnace. The metal soon melts, allowing your once prey to become the predator.

Your attempts to escape are futile, given Sylus’ quick speed, and you’re thrown onto the bed. He hovers over you and your fight-or-flight instincts kick in as you throw a punch, but he catches your wrist and pins it down without batting an eye.

“You’re pretty good at running away.”

“Let me go. I already have the brooch.” He pins your other hand down, enveloping his large hand over your clenched fist.

“I told you. My offer has expired already, so the real question is… when does yours?”

Sylus is staring down at you with crazed, crimson eyes as the sound of your heartbeat rings in your ears. His hands are warm, too warm. Like they’ll burn you alive or maybe that’s your body heat rising exponentially from how close he was. His scent wafts over you, filling your nose with pleasant notes of cardamom and something herbal, which soothes your nerves and helps you rediscover your voice.

“I… I…”

“Use your words.”

“I only made you that counteroffer because I thought I failed. The brooch has been found. Who cares about the rules? You’re the leader of the N109 Zone. You break them all the time.”

“Careful, sweetheart. My patience is running thin. I’m only keeping you around because you’re still useful. And…” He squeezes your fist like he wants to pry it open. A warning. “I truly enjoy seeing my little prey struggle.” He brings your enclosed fist in front of his chest. “Especially when it thinks it can get away from me. Now tell me… what similar desires do we share?”

Okay. Maybe if you scream loud enough, Mephisto will fly in and—

“Answer me.”

Who were you kidding, Mephisto would sell you out in a heartbeat. That damn crow better not have seen you reading pornography. And those twins… they better start counting their days.

You pull your lower lip under your front teeth, hoping to seal your answer shut for good. But Sylus’ right eye glows red, and you writhe underneath him, turning your head to the side. His Aether Core will reveal your deepest desires if you make eye contact.

Sylus grabs your chin and forces you to look at him, probing into your subconscious and witnessing all your shameful thoughts. Eerie voices fill your mind, their murmurs are difficult to understand, but the pain they bring is borderline unbearable—an unfortunate side effect of Sylus’ intrusion. Once the glow in his eye fades, you feel like yourself again. But the twisted smile on his face let you know things were far from over.

“So that’s what you mean by shared desires… You want me to use my Evol on you. No… you want me to fuck you with it.”

“That’s not true! Luke and Kieran—”

He runs his thumb across your lips, an effective solution for your yapping mouth. “Such improper use of an Evol could have devastating consequences. You are too gullible, kitten.”

Damn it. Those two…!

“Don’t call me that,” you bite back.

“Oh? You have quite the mouth on you today. First, you make a big show of offering your body to me and now you don’t have the guts to tell me exactly how you want me to take you?” He leans closer, his lips ghosting above your own with the slightest touch. “Confess your true desires, [Y/N].”

“N-No. The twins set me up.”

“That book may not belong to me, but I assure you… my desires are all my own. And they align with yours. All you have to do is confess.”

He doesn’t move and prolongs eye contact to where you feel stifled, trapped, and heated in places you shouldn’t. The leader of the N109 Zone doesn’t play around and knows what he wants and the means to get it. But you like challenging him. You like being challenged by him too.

You stay quiet because giving in too easily is what he wants.

“That look in your eyes… Are you trying to seduce me?” You form what you believe is a scowl, but it results in another teasing smirk. “As long as you have desires, there will always be deals to make. So what will it be?”

“I want to get into the auction,” you say, uttering the same script to maintain a semblance of professionalism. “That’s all.”

He sees the brooch jutting out from the space between your forefinger and thumb, easily able to lift it from you. “Don’t move.”

To your surprise, he pins it on your shirt and sits on the edge of the bed. You sit up and lean on your elbows, tilting your head at his sudden behavior change.

“Technically, you did find the brooch. I won’t go back on what I promised you.”

“Wait, that’s it?”

“You sound rather disappointed.” He gets up, and you follow suit off the bed like a lost kitten. “If getting into the auction is all you desire, consider it done. You can leave now.”

His back is facing you, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s disappointed too. You fidget with the brooch, running your thumb across the smooth jewel. Without thinking, your hand latches onto his like a magnetic force. Sylus spins around, glowering as you intertwine your fingers through his.

“Let me resonate with you.”

“So brash… you’re getting more and more interesting.”

He entertains you and utilizes his Evol, the black-red mist wrapping around his forearm like sprouting vines as he brings your entwined hands up to eye level. He closes his eyes as more mist envelops where you two are connected, and you watch with bated breath as scarlet specks float inward.

Devour him… he’s yours. He’s right there before your very eyes.

Those eerie voices are back, and you’re strangely compelled to heed their words. An ivory glow shines where your palms meet before an explosive burst of energy emerges, a spiral of lethal scarlet and radiant white from your combined powers. Sylus opens his eyes and lets go of your hand, allowing ivory flakes to cascade down like confetti.

“It’s a shame. But not a surprise.”

“We can try again. Let’s—”

“I admire your tenacity, kitten. But I think we’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

Your insides feel like an unattended kettle, whistling from immense frustration and on the verge of exploding. You can’t leave now. Not after he gave you what you wanted. There is a thing called give-and-take, and you’re not one to only take. The guilt would eat you alive.

“I don’t want to owe you. Here,” you grab both his hands, “one more time.”

Sylus lifts his arms and pins you against the nearest wall with hands above your head. Your breath is knocked out of you when your back collides with it, the impact causing the lamp to nearly topple over. His glare is murderous and your sick mind dared to find it incredibly attractive.

“Your stubbornness is what’s going to get you killed someday,” he warns. You see him lean back and remove his hold over you, but when you try to move, you feel restrained. His powers; they’re bounding you. “Is this what you want? For me to use my Evol on you?”

“Isn’t that what you want? I don’t want to owe you,” you repeat. “So I’m ready for whatever’s going on here. You can… use me for the night.” The last part was barely above a whisper, but Sylus’ hum as he folds his arms across his chest lets you know he heard you.

“Do you know what you’re requesting, little one? My Evol is dangerous,” You feel the restraints tighten and they only stop when you yelp in pain. “Yet it’s almost like you welcome it. Even if it hurts. Do you like it when it hurts?”

The tension is thick enough to cut with a knife, so you kick in his direction with all your might. Hunter instincts, if you will. But the black-red tendrils around your ankle make you sweat as he lowers your leg without breaking eye contact, pinning both ankles to the wall.

“Feisty kitten thinks she’s a tiger now, huh?”

“Why don’t you get on with it already?” you snap, impatient. Sylus grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks until your lips pucker like a fish.

“What makes you think I won’t kill you?” Like his razor-sharp words, you feel something akin to a collar around your neck. It prickles your skin while restricting the flow of oxygen to your lungs and you gasp like you’re trying desperately not to drown. You feel light-headed, but his Evol takes mercy on you and grants you enough air to breathe, though you know it comes with the price of answering his question.

“Because you would’ve done so already,” you answer, though your voice is shaky. Sylus nods, as if satisfied with your reply.

“Do you trust me?”

“No.”

“Clever girl.” The praise sounds delicious rolling off his tongue. “One final question.” He releases your face and bends down to meet your eye level. “Do you desire me?”

Having been inside your head, the answer was obvious. He’s looking for confirmation, a verbal confession to make whatever feelings you have for him tangible. The man is a walking red flag, and you’re about to wave a white one in surrender.

“If I don’t?” you question, challenging his authority one last time.

“Then I’ll release you.”

“And if I do?”

“Then… I hope you’ll allow me to have you. All of you. Deal?”

A beat passes and you gulp, your head saying no, but your body and heart screaming, “Yes.”

His hand comes up to caress your face, almost lovingly. “Yes, what?”

“I desire you.”

Sylus gives you a full smile, the corners of his eyes creasing. “You’re aware of the risks, right? With the snap of my fingers, I can tear things to shreds,” He carries out the action and as promised, his robe is shredded to bits of black and red confetti. Your eyes trail down his well-developed abdominal muscles and pronounced V-line until they settle on… “Enjoying the view?”

His teasing lilt reminds you to close your gaping jaw. Hell yeah, you’re enjoying the view. Not only was this man well over six feet, his body rivaled that of a Greek God, and he was blessed with a massive cock too? Of course. Things had to be proportionate.

“I… you… that robe was expensive, wasn’t it?” That was quite possibly the lamest response you could’ve come up with.

“It seems like the little kitten is distracted. Probably needs a toy to keep her occupied.” Sylus flicks his fingers, commanding the whirl of black-red mist to rip your clothes and you shriek in surprise. The brooch falls to the floor with a soft clink, and he picks it up, gently putting it on his nightstand. His attention returns to you and your exposed body, and you take pride in how his cock throbs at the sight. “So she likes lace. Pretty.”

You bite back a scream when a black tendril with cracks of glowing red light slithers up your body in between the valley of your breasts, tearing your bra right off. Another one coils around your thigh before it rips your panties off too. The appendages seem to multiply, wrapping your body in an intricate pattern similar to shibari. There’s no pain and they feel smooth, cooling your heated skin.

“I can manipulate things at will with the flick of a wrist. My powers are pure energy meant for destruction, and you’re here wanting to use them for pleasure.”

He leans close to your ear and nibbles the shell of it. The sensation tickles, but you’re too tense to move a muscle. His voice is husky as he whispers, “I could kill you right now. It’d be so easy…”

You hold your breath when he leans back enough to scan your face, relishing the turmoil in your eyes. “I-I trust that you won’t.”

“You know…” His index finger travels alongside your neck, then to your breast, tracing your areola in circular motions. “As soon as my Evol makes contact with anyone, people would die almost instantly and experience the most excruciating pain.”

He’s now rolling your nipple in between his forefinger and thumb, pinching it enough to hurt and elicit a whine from you. “S-Sylus…”

“But that’s not the case with you. Do you know the violence it took to become this gentle?”

You don’t know why your heart swells, but his words were sweeter than any confession. “Thank you…”

His eyes widen slightly and he stops his actions, tilting your chin up instead. “Say that again.”

“Th-Thank you… for being gentle with me.”

He closes his eyes and shudders like your gracious manners sent waves of pleasure throughout his body. A sharp inhale comes, and then he’s staring deep into your eyes like he could see your soul.

“What a good girl you are thanking me… but I must warn you. I meant what I said about having all of you. You’re not the only one with fantasies, [Y/N]. And mine are anything but gentle.”

“I can take it.”

He gives you a half-smile. “Is that so?”

“You doubt me?”

“No. But I think you might underestimate me. After all… I’m possibly ‘inadequate’ in bed.”

Shit. Maybe you shouldn’t have challenged him. But your bratty nature couldn’t leave you well enough alone. “Prove me wrong.”

Sylus’ resolve crumbles and he holds the side of your face as his lips meet yours for the first time. His pressure is gentle like he doesn’t want to scare you off, and once you two find rhythm, he deepens the kiss and you moan as the taste of cinnamon overcomes you. Spicy, very much like him.

His tongue prods its way through once your body relaxes, sliding across your own, the action far more lewd than romantic. He groans and carefully takes your bottom lip in between his teeth, pulling back in the most sexy manner. You moan and he swallows it, kissing you again with more fervor as his hands explore your body.

First, he traces your curves and trails down until his hands cup your ass, squeezing the soft flesh. Then he brings them back up, kneading your breasts and you mewl at how rough he handled them. Eventually, the kiss breaks, leaving a thin trail of saliva that connects your lips until it eventually severs.

“Beautiful…”

One word and you’re all heart-eyes for the man as heat rushes to your cheeks. If he wanted to tease you for it, he restrains himself and takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking harshly before releasing it with an audible pop. His tongue pokes out, swirling around the bud while his hand tends to the other. Your back arches involuntarily, but you’re quickly reminded of your immobility, which causes more arousal to drip down your thighs.

Sylus stops messing with your pert nipples to suck harshly between the valley of your breasts, inevitably leaving a nasty hickey. He pushes them together and then lets go, loving how they jiggle.

“I wonder…” he muses, taking two fingers to tease your folds. “Oh… you’re so wet and I haven’t even put them in yet.”

You squeeze your eyes when he inserts them in slowly, your slick making the transition smooth as he stretches you out. “Fuck… Sylus, please.”

“What? Are my fingers not enough?” He stills and the lack of movement frustrates you to no end. You want to thrash around, but you’re still glued to the wall.

“N-No. Please… please move them.”

“You beg so prettily,” He pulls them out and begins fingering you at a snail’s pace. “But it’s not enough. You can do better.”

“Please!” you exclaim. “I need more…”

“God, you’re dripping on my hand and I haven’t done much.” He moves faster, his fingers knuckle deep and curling in spots that have you clenching hard. It’s like he’s coaxing out more of your essence with each stroke and then challenges you with a third finger. “Does it feel good?”

You can hardly respond with how stuffed you feel, your lust insatiable as he speeds up.

“Yes? No? Maybe so?” he asks, amused by your struggle.

“Y-Yes… good… so good…”

Your pussy is making obscene noises and you’re feeling a warmth building in your abdomen, especially when Sylus kisses your neck. His lips are scorching hot, almost searing as if you were being branded. You submit and let him mark you, focusing on the pressure within as your high is approaching. He uses his free hand to hold yours, interlocking your fingers together.

“Fuck!” you shout, feeling like you couldn’t breathe fast enough to keep up with his bruising pace. “I’m going to come, I—”

He seals your words with another kiss, and your scream is muffled when your orgasm hits you like a gunshot. It’s brutal and intense, causing you to see stars for what feels like the longest minute of your life.

At the same time, your interlocked palms glow bright red and ivory. Unlike before, this explosion caused a surge of power to pass through his bedroom like shockwaves, destroying most things that came into contact. The roar is deafening, but all you can focus on is Sylus and how good he made you feel.

“Come back to me.”

You don’t realize when he stopped kissing you. Or when he removed his fingers. Or when you stopped being pinned to the wall. Sylus is holding you up and when you see how his eyes softened for the concern for your well-being, you’re smitten.

“I’m okay…”

His demeanor shifts, the change so sudden that it is like a phone going from light mode to dark mode. The man manipulates your body with his Evol and throws you onto the bed without a second thought. Black-red mist envelops your body again, this time cuffing your wrists in front. Tendrils wrap around each breast, your torso, and your neck, constricting tightly until you resemble a beautifully decorated present.

Sylus joins you on the bed, settling in between your thighs as he lies on his stomach as if he were a sniper. He has his Evol pry them wider, so your pussy is exposed for his feasting eyes. His arms are secured under your thighs, an extra precaution to hold you in place.

That’s when an untimely knock comes.

“Boss? Is everything alright?”

“We heard a loud crash!”

Damn it. Luke and Kieran have impeccable timing. And the way the corners of Sylus’ lips tug into a smirk instills panic in you.

“Answer them. Make it convincing,” Sylus whispers. You watch as he dips down until his white hair is all you can see. His lips latch onto your lower ones and you’re choked up, trying not to moan too loudly as he tastes you.

“We’re… We’re fine!” you exclaim, though your breathy tone is far from convincing. Sylus grunts in disapproval at your poor performance, and the vibrations are a suitable punishment. “Sylus and I have are having a disagree—ah!—ment.”

Fuck, why does he have to lick your clit right at that moment?!

“Oh no, you two are fighting?” Kieran asks, his voice cracking slightly from his concern.

“Give up, [Y/N]! Our boss is relentless!” Luke adds with a faint snicker. Tell me about it.

Sylus continues to give you kitten licks before licking a long stripe across your labia folds. You’re bucking your hips because you want more, but you’re also trying to close your thighs to escape the pleasure. It’s no use when you’re restrained and have no choice but to let him eat you out to his heart’s content. It’s when he inserts a finger to join in his salacious tongue that your eyes are rolling to the back of your head.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you breathe. “Sylus, if you keep going… they’ll hear me.”

“Then I suggest you stay quiet. What would your colleagues say if they knew the best hunter in Linkon is lusting over the leader of Onychinus?”

“I’m-I’m not!”

“Keep telling yourself that, sweetie,” He gives you a short break to clean your juices off his fingers, sucking them like they were a popsicle. “And oh how sweet you are, indeed.”

“Don’t kill each other!” the twins chorus. Sylus chuckles and shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb.

“Leave us,” he demands. “We have ways of… negotiating. Even if it takes all night…”

There’s some shuffling before you hear their footsteps recede down the hallway until silence remains.

“That was mean,” you whine. He tilts his head, swiping his upper lip with his tongue ever so slowly.

“You think that was mean? Oh… you underestimate me.”

He rises from your thighs and kneels on the bed, but his large frame still towers over you. “Wait, I—”

A snap of his fingers seals your mouth shut. You see the crimson specks floating around your mouth and protest, but they’re reduced to muffled squeals.

“Like I said before… you have quite the mouth on you today.”

Your eyes enlarge when you see a black-red tentacle rise from between your thighs. It sparks at the tip, which transforms into a cock-head to simulate a human penis. It’s not too thick, but it still makes your heart beat erratically.

Sylus takes both your hands and squeezes the right one first. “If you want me to keep going, squeeze your right hand,” He squeezes the left one next. “If it’s too much and you want me to stop, squeeze your left.”

His thoughtfulness brings those butterflies back. You squeeze your right hand and he nods, commanding the tentacle to run its tip up and down your folds. It brushes your clit every so often, which makes you sigh in pleasure. Then it enters you slowly, your arousal making things run smoothly.

It penetrates you about six inches deep before pulling out halfway, only to slam back into you with greater force. Your cries are muffled, but Sylus can tell you’re enjoying yourself by how your eyes roll back. The appendage thrusts into you at a maddening pace, your body rocking back and forth from the notion, and Sylus enjoys seeing the erotic sight of your tits bouncing. The tendrils around your breasts constrict while smaller ones branch off, wrapping around your nipples and teasing them too.

The make-shift gag around your mouth converts into another cock-head tentacle, forcing its way in so you’re sucking it off. Sylus groans at the beautiful sight of you submitting to it so willingly.

“You’re so pretty when you submit… I can’t imagine how sexy you’ll look when I take you,” he praises.

So many parts of you are being stimulated and you’re sure you’ll come again soon with how each thrust, both in your pussy and mouth, speeds up. It’s almost like they were losing control, taking you with them. It’s not until you feel a small spark from below that you yelp.

The sensation was like static electricity that you get if you rub your feet on a carpet. Not life-threatening, but a nuisance that stings for a brief second.

“My Evol is energy manipulation… that energy is hard to control sometimes…” Sylus says in a low voice. “It might even shock you.”

You can’t hear much over the squelching noises from your pussy and mouth as the tentacles work into you, hungrily, greedily, until the build-up from below is enough to cause your whole body to shake involuntarily. Your orgasm approaches and then is heightened when a small jolt of electricity shocks your clit.

The tentacle in your mouth removes itself, so you can scream until your voice gives out. The other one leaves your pussy once you stop shaking, and you are still on the bed, catching your breath. However, you feel something warm and wet on your stomach, so you lift your head enough to see spurts of cum leaking from Sylus’ cock.

His hands are still holding your own. Did he come from simply watching you?

“I’m not going to apologize,” he says without a hint of remorse. “You excite me.”

You’re flattered, truly. Especially when his cock is still erect, almost angry with need by how much it throbs. You wonder if it’s painful.

The mist around your wrists vanishes, but your body is dragged off the bed to the opposite side of the room, where Sylus’ grand wall mirror reaches the ceiling. You’re suspended in front of it and he wraps his arm around your waist from behind, twirling your hair with his other hand.

“Do you know how irresistible you are? Such temptation… that’s why I’m taking my time,” He takes his finger, swipes across your stomach, and gathers enough cum to coat his digit before lifting it to your mouth. “Open.”

You obey and he lets you taste himself, the action so wicked. So dominating. So sexy. His cum is salty and slightly bitter, but addictive.

“Good girl. Are you ready for what’s next?”

“Yes.”

His Evol controls your limbs and suddenly, you’re flipped upside-down with Sylus’ cock in front of your lips while your pussy is facing his. Your legs are wrapped around his neck and you’re taken aback at the extreme position.

“I’ve always thought Standing 69’s would be… enthralling. Always wanted to try it.”

The blood rushing to your head blurs your focus and your adrenaline spikes at the thought of possibly falling. But Sylus’ powers are strong and you’ve yet to see them falter. As if he can read your thoughts, he says, “Don’t worry, kitten. Rest assured I won’t drop you on your pretty little head.”

“It’s still scary…”

“I know. But isn’t that what makes it thrilling?” He pulls you closer by placing his hands on your ass, placing a chaste kiss on your cunt. “The sooner you finish, the sooner I’ll have you right-side up.”

Another challenge you can’t back down from. You take Sylus’ cock in your mouth and it reaches the back of your throat quickly from its impressive length. It’s also thicker in girth than the tentacle you sucked off earlier, which makes you gag.

Sylus throws his head back, panting from how soft and warm your mouth feels. He snaps his fingers to release your wrists, allowing your hands to find purchase on the back of his thighs.

“If it becomes too much, squeeze twice.”

You respond by bobbing your head up and down, which earns a sharp inhale from him. He isn’t one to fall behind, so he indulges in your sopping cunt like a glutton, moaning and grunting into it like an animal. Meanwhile, you relax your jaw so it becomes easier to adjust to his size, swirling your tongue as you maneuver up and down.

Your eyes shift to the mirror, seeing your compromised position and lewd actions. You barely recognize yourself or Sylus for that matter. He’s so engrossed in eating you out that his eyes are closed like he’s enjoying heaven on Earth. It pushes you to work harder, keeping up with his pace.

Right before Sylus is about to reach his peak, you hear another snap. He stops eating you out and you feel something bumpy rub itself against your pussy. Then Sylus’ fingers spread your ass cheeks and you feel it probing around your other hole.

Your mouth stills and your eyes widen at the sight of a black-red tendril that’s now ribbed at the tip. It slowly enters, stretching you to take each ribbed section, simulating the action of being fucked repeatedly. Sylus is back at work, inserting his tongue into your vagina in hopes it’ll distract you from the burn, but it only makes you clench harder.

“Relax…” he reminds you before diving back in again. He’s bucking his hips to remind you to continue, and you do your best as saliva pools so much that it drips down near your eyes. Everything feels too much, too tight, especially when the tentacle starts fucking your asshole. The ribbed texture only adds to the intensity and hits spots that border pain and pleasure.

Sylus’ hips begin to stutter and you’re seconds away from passing out from the light-headedness. Fortunately, he finishes in your mouth, the thick viscosity of his cum coating your throat while you orgasm for the third time tonight.

The noises he lets out are feral and if you had the chance, you’d record them so you could get off to them another night. You feel the pressure in your ass disappear and as promised, you’re right-side up again, but your limbs feel like jelly. Sylus wraps his arm around your waist, his hold secure as he flashes you a satisfied grin.

“Open.” You’re still in a daze, but the command gets through to you and you show him your mouth. When he sees you have swallowed, he hums in approval. “You really do hold up your end of the bargain. I suppose I’ll finally give you what you want.”

He grabs your hand and places it on his dick, which is slippery from your saliva. He’s still semi-erect but a few strokes is all it takes to get him up and running again. The man’s a beast and refuses to be in a cage.

Guiding you to the bed, he lays down first on the mattress, his hands clasped behind his head as he rests on a pillow. In the blink of an eye, you’re suspended over him, the black-red mist parting your thighs and slowly lowering you until your pussy barely grazes his tip. Your wrists are bound behind your back now and you’re like a puppet, bent to his will.

“What do you desire, Kitten?”

“You,” you beg. “Please.”

“You wish for me to take you raw?”

You’re nodding like your life depended on it. “Yes.”

“You wish for me to use you?”

“To your heart’s content.”

He says nothing else and sinks you onto his fat cock, and despite the many sessions he’s used to prep you, there’s still a slight burn from how much he stretches you. It feels incredible as he bottoms out, knocking the breath out of both of you.

“Oh god…” you say, trembling from how full you feel. “You’re so big…”

“And you’re so tight. It’s like your pussy doesn’t want to let go of me. So greedy.”

The mist controls your pliant body, helping you bounce up and down without pausing for a break. Sylus does a jazz hands motion with the widest grin on his face.

“Look, kitten. No hands.”

You almost growl at his cheap jokes, but his throbbing cock deters you from your thoughts, almost impaling you from its brute force. Sylus reaches out and pulls you so your chest meets his, his arm hooked around your back to hold you in place, giving you a short moment of reprieve.

“Raise your head,” he commands. You feel so drained, but you force yourself to do it and he gives you a quick smooch. “I need you to relax.”

The ribbed tentacle is back and you feel it gliding in between your ass cheeks, prodding your rim every so often like it’s mischievous.

“S-Sylus, it’ll be too much,” you say.

“You can handle it. But let me know now if you want to stop.”

You bite your lower lip, considering his words. “No. Don’t stop.”

“That’s my girl…” The tendril pushes into your asshole, taking its time as each ribbed section feels like a repeated attack, pushing the limits of your body. You’re utterly stuffed once it’s in as far as Sylus allows and you feel his cock throb in your sore pussy.

Sylus jerks his hips first and then the tentacle joins as they pump in and out of you, alternating and becoming more violent. You’re biting down in the juncture between his neck and shoulder to steady yourself, and he lets out a strained fuck, yes, thrusting up into you so hard that you sob, tears pricking your eye.

Just when you think there aren’t any surprises left, a second tentacle sneaks around to your lips, seizing its opportunity to enter when you gasp. It gags you and now all three of your holes are being used and abused, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. The stimulation is overwhelming, the pressure bottling, your pussy squeezing Sylus’ like a vice—you’re both not going to last much longer.

“That’s it, that’s it—fuck, I adore you,” he pants, closing his eyes and focusing his energy to give you his all. The tendril occupying your mouth releases you, allowing the mantra of Sylus’ name to fall from your lips as euphoria greets you.

You’ve come many times tonight, but this one saturates you in overwhelming pain and pleasure. Everything is sore and you can’t stop seeing four of everything until Sylus lifts you by the hips, coming on his stomach and not inside you. You collapse onto his chest when the mist dissipates, the two of you catching your breath.

There isn’t enough money in the world to convince you to move, not after what you’ve experienced. Yet something lifts you off Sylus and you’re about to cry again.

“No, no more…”

“Hush now,” The mist positions you in Sylus’ arms bridal-styled as he gets off the bed, his strong arms securing you. “We’re going to the bathroom to clean ourselves up. You’re staying with me for the night.”

You nuzzle into his embrace like a kitten, and a fond smile rests on his face.

“Okay.”

A/N: You made it to the end! Yipee! Thank you for giving my writing a chance. PLEASE let me know if you enjoyed. 🌹

#sylus smut #sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #lads sylus #sylus x you #sylus qin #my writing #lads smut #lnds sylus

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jjunieworld · 4 months ago

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#WIP ⟢ THE SALT UNDER THE SEA ˒˒ 심재윤 ⨾ 박종성 ▸ part two of the player’s game series⌇playlist & series tag

the death of your grandma has you returning back to your mother’s seaside hometown—the same town you left jake in a year ago—for good. now that you’re back, so are the feelings you really desperately wished to leave behind. it doesn’t help that now you’re caught in the crossfire of two guys with a rough past who want to be with you.

pairing ‎⸝⸝⸝ sim jaeyun x reader, park jongseong x reader 𓄵 iηcℓudᥱs 𓈓 cousin jungwon, bestfriend!jay, player!sunghoon, and oc hana (jake’s ex)

genre﹙📓﹚⸝⸝⸝ exes to lovers, bestfriends to ???, angst, smut, fluff, lifeguard!jake, ex player!jake, bestfriend!jay, lifeguard!jay, lifeguarding inaccuracies, love triangle, slice of life, some h2o references, beach au, summer romance

warnings ‎⸝⸝⸝ if you didn’t like reader in the first part then you won’t like her in this one, reader’s grandma passing and mentions of reader’s dad passing, multiple unprotected sex scenes, soft dom!jake, mean dom!jay, toxicity, jayke constantly one-uping each other, arguing, semi-public sex, size training, corruption kink full smut tags in actual post . . . !

kipo’s note ‎⸝⸝⸝ this was a long time coming lmao i’m so so sorry to everyone who has been waiting (◞‸◟；) with my month long break and adjusting to writing again i’m finally ready to start working on this series again! this is my main priority so i will try to get it out as soon as i possibly can!! this post will be updated as i work on it! ^^ all feedback and asks on suggestions are welcome! ♡

release date ⸝⸝⸝ sept 20th, 2024 ⋆ progress updates here!

∿ [ teaser wc: 0.7k ] ∿ [ current wc: 26.1k ] ⋆ [ continue to . . . wips , masterlist ]

send an ask or reply to this post if you want to be tagged when finished! minors and ageless/blank blogs will not be tagged. please have a visible age. my permanent taglist will already be tagged!

⟢ READ HERE!

your heart beat fast as you looked out the plane window to your mother’s seaside hometown—your new home. there was no need for your mom to nudge you awake since you weren’t able to sleep for the entirety you were on the plane, the nerves were eating at you.

you never thought you’d be back here, never thought that you’d ever say goodbye to your own hometown—which was also your late father’s—but here you were.

when your mom told you that you’d be moving here permanently you didn’t know how to feel. one one hand, you understood your mom’s decision. it was just you and her out there miles away from your family and everything must’ve reminded her of your father. it reminded you of him too. on the other hand, you desperately wished she would change her mind.

it was enough seeing that one glimpse of jake nine months ago, but to see him over and over and over again? you didn’t think you could take it. he still texted you, even more now since, and you still haven’t answered. things between the two of you still remain unsaid.

but you also couldn’t help but count down the seconds until you laid your eyes on him again. it set your skin alight and you couldn’t help the small smile on your face and the giddiness you felt. was it selfish, yes, but after everything you think you’re finally ready to face him again.

to give your relationship another chance. to give him your heart again and not be fearful that he would break it, that he’d keep it guarded and safe. after all, he said he would wait for you.

and if he didn’t protect your heart, you’d pull back and it would be as if you never had anything to do with him again.

“y/n? are you listening?” you heard your mother’s voice call out. you snapped back to reality, blinking a couple of times to get your wits.

you were no longer on the plane. now you were lugging suitcases into your aunt’s house. your aunt was delighted to hear that you and your mom would be moving here. there was plenty of room in the house until the two of you got your own place.

“mhm,” you mumbled, though you definitely weren’t listening.

your mom sat the suitcase she was carrying in front of you and grabbed your shoulders. “is it that boy from last summer?” what was his name? jacob?”

“jake,” jungwon answered for you as he walked out the front door to grab more boxes.

your mom snapped her fingers. “jake! that’s it. listen, i know you had some problems moving here because of him, but use this as a way to put yourself out there more than last summer! there’s more wonderful people here than just jake.” she gave you a sympathetic smile and continued carrying stuff inside while you remained planted to the same spot in the driveway.

it wasn’t “just jake” that worried you. it was all of his friends and hana. you didn’t want another summer full of drama, especially if you and jake did start dating again.

getting all your boxes and suitcases into the house went quick and relatively easy. you decided on unpacking all of your things later, right now your mind was too clouded.

jake’s letter sat carefully in your anxious hands. you must’ve read it a million times over now and still you could barely wrap your head around it.

“two people who are meant to be will always find a way back to each other. and we are meant to be. no matter how long it takes, i’ll wait for you.”

it was now or never. you grabbed your phone and opened your messages up to your conversation with jake. his last message was from this morning, hoping that you had a good day today. he must not know that you’re back and for good. with a shaky sigh, you let your fingers move across the keyboard.

you: meet me at our spot.

⟢ READ HERE!

taglist 1﹙ OPEN! ﹚⸝⸝⸝ click here for series taglist! 🏷️ @jjunberry @gothgyuu @gyuuberries @beargyuuzz @kittyhyuka @dani-is-tired @riaawr @yeonjunsfox @nxzz-skz @rapmonie2047 @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @aaa-sia @jeonghaniehaee @todorokiskitten @onlyhyunjin @un06 @nenesz @branchrkive @dreamiestay @lilyuwon @ghstzzn @kaykay11sworld @kirinaa08 @cherlv @zl-world @cloud-lyy @sunpov @samouryed @immelissaaa @y4wnjunz @who-tf-soddhi @minaateez @jajenoric @lilactangerine @chaconadine @americanojake @in-somnias-world @bobaikeu @cupidscourt @inkigayocamman @nctsshoes2 @helenngxz @jakeswifez @usnve @tasnim10 @deobitifull @won4me @zeeloveshee

send an ask or reply to this post if you want to be tagged when finished! minors and ageless/blank blogs will not be tagged. please have a visible age. my permanent taglist will already be tagged!

∿ [ continue on to . . . masterlist , wips , taglist ] all feedback and asks on suggestions are welcome! ♡

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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year ago

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helloooo, could you write a fic where the OC is also a f1 driver and they're Lando's rival, buutt one race weekend she goes into his driver's room to argue with him but they do more because they're both frustrated? like pure smut

The Fine Line || LN4

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!driver!reader Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, angst, smut WC: 1.6k F1 Masterlist

No one tried to stop you as you stormed through the McLaren garage, ascending the stairs two at a time just to reach the driver's room quicker. Your heel planted on the door and it flew open with a bang and left a handle sized hole in the plaster where it struck.

"I get that you don't like me but you don't have to drive me into the fucking wall, Norris."

Lando had barely returned to the room after crashing out of the race with the collision but you were too angry to see the state of his undress, his fireproof shirt carelessly strewn across the floor.

“You really think too highly of yourself,” he scoffed, pulling the door out from the wall and slamming it closed.

“So you didn’t cut into my line and take me out?” you dared, the video footage proof that it was exactly what he had done.

“I can’t stand you, why would I want to go anywhere near you and your precious racing line?” he growled as each step brought him closer until he was dominating your personal space.

Your lips pulled up into a taunting smirk and you tilted your head back to meet his eyes. “You are awfully close, for a man that doesn’t want to be near me.”

His eyes traced the curve of your lips before he dragged them back to your eyes and he dipped his head to whisper in your ear. “You came here first.”

Your mouth was dry as you swallowed and the room suddenly felt too hot. “Because you put me into a fucking wall, Norris.”

“This is putting you into a wall,” he said as he pushed you back.

You waited for the impact but his arm snaked around your back and his palm cradled your head before the contact came. His entire body was pressed the length of yours and a needy whine escaped your lips as the race high and adrenaline left your body screaming for an outlet.

“You like that? Hmm?” he smirked but you returned it as you rolled your hips and felt his erection proudly digging into your stomach.

“Don’t take it personally, Norris, it’s not you, you just have the right…bits.”

“I don’t believe you.” He fingers toyed with the zip and your collar, waiting to see if you would slap them away in this strange game of chicken. The only sounds were the quickening of your breath and the tear of Velcro before he drew the zip down your body and saw your skin-tight fireproof shirt beneath.

You dragged your nails down his back and smirked as he groaned at the heat that flared from the five angry red lines. Nipping at his jaw, he bucked his hips before you pushed him away. “And I don’t care.”

“Bullshit,” he chuckled when he recovered and combed a hand through his messy hair. “Just admit it, you want me.”

“I want you, Lando,” you admitted as you opened the door. “I want you…to stay the fuck off my race line.”

Two Months Later You had the cash ready in hand when the knock at your door came, but it wasn’t who you expected on the other side.

“Blocking me?” Lando huffed as he pushed his way inside your suite. “That’s fucking low.”

You rolled your eyes at the scathing attitude. “You think I wanted a penalty? I wasn’t even impeding you, there was plenty of room if you used your eyes to look for something other than the paddock bunnies.”

You started to close the door when the food you had ordered arrived, the poor man looking unsettled as his eyes danced between you and Lando. “Are you alright, ma’am? Would you like me to call security?”

The hostility was palpable and you chuckled as you took the bag, handing the money over with a sizable tip. “I can handle him, thanks.”

He clearly wasn’t all that satisfied but nodded and left, wishing you a good evening before you closed the door. The entire hotel didn’t need to hear you and Lando’s war of words.

“You can’t even handle qualifying,” he scoffed, peeking over your shoulder into the bag. “Is that katsu?”

“Yes, and no, you are not getting any.” You wanted to eat it while it was hot but you couldn’t ignore the papaya elephant in the room. “Did you come here for anything else?”

“Like what?”

“How would I know? I don’t know what goes on in that little head of yours. But I picture it’s something like that monkey banging cymbals together on repeat.”

“You were right with the banging,” he muttered as he helped himself to your mini bar. “Wrong with the animal.”

“Gross.” Effectively put off your food, you pushed the dish away and decided a drink was better. Lando was leaning against the countertop, his legs wide manspreading and his arms crossed, trying to look dominant. He watched you bend down to grab a miniature bottle of champagne from the fridge, not bothering with a glass as you popped the cork.

“Want a sip?” you offered. “It’s the closest you’ll get to tasting victory.”

“God I hate you,” he growled as he pushed your hand away.

You chuckled and took a sip of the sweet bubbles. “There’s a fine line between love and hate. I think you’re just confused.”

“Okay, I love to hate you.”

You stepped between his legs and placed your bottle next to his on the bench. He watched with half hooded eyes as you reached for his belt and made no effort to stop you from unbuckling it. “Is that why you always find a reason to come to my room?”

“Don’t act like you don’t get off on it too.” His arms uncrossed and his hands drifted over your hips before disappearing into the back pockets of your jeans where he squeezed your ass. His breath teased the shell of your ear as a hand snaked up your neck until he cradled your cheek, his thumb brushing beneath your eye as he whispered, “I remember seeing tears last time, you came so hard.”

“Those were tears of disappointment, that you couldn’t last longer,” you lied. The bastard was right, no one could make you angry like he could but it made for some explosive sex.

“I can go all night, baby,” Lando chuckled darkly before his hand dropped to the base of your throat and he crushed his lips to yours. His fingers tightened slightly, warning you of his strength as he pulled back and bit his bottom lip in contemplation. “Guess I’ll just have to remind you again.”

The colours of your clothes clashed as they were abandoned to the floor, his McLaren papaya and your Alpine pink proving just how badly the two together were. But it didn’t stop you from taking him to your bed, from your bodies colliding with desperate need, from crying out his name in ecstasy.

His body bore the marks of your nails, and yours held the marks of his mouth, where he had nipped and sucked his way across your collar. There was no care given between you in the primal need to chase a high, an outlet for the fire that burned inside of you, except for where you marked each other.

“There they are,” Lando chuckled proudly as his fingers left bruises on your hips, pulling you back to meet his hips with every long hard thrust. His pace was relentless, your thighs shaking as you lost all sense of self and screwed your eyes shut as you felt them begin to sting.

Your throat was hoarse and your lips swollen from the dominating kisses that stole the louder cries from them. His skin was slick with sweat and his breath came in quick pants as his forehead crumpled in restraint, his teeth clenched together.

“Go on, baby, open your eyes for me,” he taunted as a tear escaped the corner, disappearing into your hair as you shook your head. “No?”

He didn’t like to be denied and his palm slapped down on your clit, eliciting a sharp whimper as it only intensified the heat in your core. Your back arched and your lips curled into a smirk before parting with a drawn out moan as he snapped his hips even faster, the room filling with the sound of his skin slapping yours.

“Open. Your. Eyes,” he growled, pinching your nipple sharply.

“Ah,” you cried out as your eyes flew open and to meet his. The heat exploded as you came again, the waves of the orgasm rocking your entire body and his jaw fell slack at the feel of your walls clenching tight around him.

“Fuck,” he grunted as he succumbed to his own release. He pulled out and spilled himself over your stomach, fisting his cock and squeezing out every last milky drop before sitting back on his heels panting. His face was smug as he memorised the sight before him, your eyes half closed, your lips parted, the hickeys he left on your collar, the mess he left on your belly, your clit swollen and oversensitized, your cunt dripping with your arousal. “Fuck.”

He climbed off the bed, stumbling a bit with lightheadedness before catching himself and grabbing his clothes. You rolled over like a lazy cat and watched him dress just as quickly as he had undressed before leaving without a goodbye. You would have remained silent too with his exit except you heard the telltale crinkle of a paper bag and everything you felt before came crashing back.

“Get your own fucking food, Norris!”

#lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 smut #lando norris smut

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diettwistup · 6 months ago

Text

HALF OF YOU

PAIRINGS: tashi duncan x f!oc, art donaldson x f!oc, patrick zweig x f!oc

SUMMARY: No matter how bright Tashi Duncan shined, her best friend, Milan Mikaelson, wasn’t far behind. Though seeming second best, Milan would never let that define her career. Holding as much fame as Tashi, Milan encountered Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson. Would this encounter change the trajectory of her life, and would it completely alter her relationship with Tashi Duncan?

WARNINGS: challengers spoilers, reader is milan mikaelson, sexual situations, language, angst, plot alterations.

WC: 5.1K

NOTES: hiiii!!! hope y’all enjoy this next chapter cuz it’s not my fave thing ever LOL. was also too lazy to proofread so sorry if there's errors. i’m also gonna be going on vacation with no internet for a little over a week so next update will be after that! thanks for reading luv u 💋

READ BEFORE THIS: INTRO and ONE

CHAPTER 2: DOUBLE TROUBLE

CHALLENGERS TOURNAMENT, NEW ROCHELLE - 2019, 1:00 PM

Gnawing on my bottom lip, I gripped my dress as Tashi got up and cursed before walking off, disappointed with Art’s performance.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going.” I shot and grabbed her wrist, eyeing her up as I took my sunglasses off.

Shaking my grasp off of her, she bent down and spoke dangerously close to my face.

“If he’s not gonna play tennis, then I don’t wanna see shit.” She seethed and walked off, brushing off her dress with each stride.

As I watched her go, I could feel a pair of eyes on me. Darting my attention back to the match, Art was already looking my way.

Shooting him a sad expression, I put my sunglasses back on, huffed, and sat back in my seat.

All he did was shake his head and rub the sweat off his face while Patrick smirked proudly.

He sure seems to love this.

Sighing, I raised one hand to my mouth to bite my nails, the nerves of the match taking over my entire being.

At the next serve, I carefully watched the strategic movements behind the boy’s every motion. They have always been outstanding players, and I furrowed my brows as I thought back to the first time I saw them play against each other.

The stupidity of Tashi and I, dumb enough to pin two best friends against each other. We should have never stepped foot in that godforsaken hotel room.

Shaking my head, I closed my eyes. The crowd's roar echoed around me as I thought back to the night that started it all.

The night that ruined it all.

THE BOY’S HOTEL- 2006, 12:00 AM

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you?!” I exclaimed to Tashi as we made our way to the boy's hotel room. “Why the fuck would you let them come down when you knew I was there?” I shot at her as I smacked her arm.

Tashi smacked me right back, making me let out a hiss and shoot a cold glare at her.

“I don’t know why you're acting like you don’t have a game. You’re the best at playing hard to get.” Tashi responded and shrugged as if it was as simple as adding two plus two.

“You’re a bitch.” I muttered and rolled my eyes as the hotel came into view. “What do you even plan on doing with these two.” I raised my brow at her and studied her expression to gauge what was going through her mind.

“What we usually do,” she responded, smiling at me. Hypnotize them with our charm and have a good time, of course,” She said proudly as if this was second nature for us.

I won’t say that Tash and I haven’t had our fair share of fun with boys, but something like this, with two boys who knew their way around the game themselves, was certainly daunting.

“Fine, but you should have heard how they talked about us at your match. It was disgusting.” I pretended to gag and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Perfect, we already have them locked in then.” She nudged my arm before leading the way to the room.

Rolling my eyes, I smacked her again before following behind her.

On the way to the room, I got lost in my thoughts. How did we get ourselves into such a situation? I hope Tashi doesn’t expect us to have a foursome of any sort because I don’t have the patience to deal with a whole ordeal like that.

Approaching the door, Tashi stopped to let me walk ahead of her.

“Perfect, Mila, you can see your ass poking out of your shorts.” She smirked and gently patted it until I swatted at her hand with a laugh.

“Fuck off, let’s go,” I scolded, waiting for her to catch up, as she knew which room to go to.

Once we reached the door, Tashi knocked and softly bit her lip. Scuffling was immediately heard behind the door, signifying that the boys were startled by our appearance.

I moved to press my ear to the door with a slight smirk which Tashi returned as she did the same.

“They’re crazy…” I whispered to Tashi, to which she responded with a nod and a soft hum.

When we removed our ears from the door, it swung open so quickly I couldn’t make out the motion.

The boys stood at the door, looking extremely disheveled. Patrick wore boxers and an unbuttoned linen shirt that looked like it had been shoved in his tennis bag and forgotten. Also wearing boxers, Art wore a beater t-shirt that looked like it had never been in the wash and dryer a day in his life. Both of their hair was ruffled and unkempt, making it look like they had just gotten out of bed.

Raising an eyebrow, I was the first to speak. “What, did you two just get done fucking?” I questioned as I looked between them and placed my hands on my hips.

Patrick just burst out into laughter while Art spoke up.

“No…fuck no…” He muttered with a laugh as he patted Patrick on the back.

Drunk as sailors.

I nodded at this before resting my eyes and glancing at Tashi, who smiled fondly at the two, but I knew she was plotting.

“So, hi,” Tashi spoke calmly with a smile that immediately brought the boys back to Earth as they moved aside to let us in the room.

I had to stop myself from covering my nose as we entered the room.

Reeks of beer and cigarettes…typical boys.

Two beds pushed together were messily made. Beer cans, cigarette buds, and clothes were everywhere, though it looked like someone had tried to tidy up a bit.

That explains all the noise.

Patrick mindlessly spoke to Tashi as I continued to scan the room, not noticing that Art was eyeing me up. Turning my head, I caught his stare, which didn’t make him falter. He only continued to stare before coming up to me and handing me a beer.

“Didn’t know you were gonna come.” He spoke as he looked down at me through lidded eyes. Tipsy eyes. And, of course, he had a smirk, but it spoke I’m glad you came, really.

I continued to study his expression as I let my guard down a pinch. I shrugged nonchalantly as I took a long swig of the beer, knowing I would need it to get through the night.

“Had nothing else to do. Figured why not.” I spoke calmly as I let my eyes rake over his entire figure, drinking up his messy look which he really really pulled off. Never would I ever admit that for him to hear.

Or me.

“Well, glad you’re here.” Art said as he took the beer can from my lips and sipped it while he stared into my eyes, flickering to my lips for a moment.

I kept my eyes trained on his as I refused to back down in this staredown, showing that I couldn’t be swayed that quickly just because he was extremely attractive.

“You two, come sit,” Patrick spoke up from the ground by the bed where he sat with Tashi.

Nodding at this, I waited for Art to take his eyes off mine before I made any movement to sit. After a few seconds, he nodded and placed a hand on my lower back to walk me to where everyone was sitting.

I shivered slightly at this as I softly bit my bottom lip, hiding this motion from him, but I knew Tashi saw it by her smug little smile that said I told you so.

We haven’t even done anything, and I suddenly feel like I’m in the trenches.

The next couple minutes were used to discuss how Patrick and Art met each other and how Patrick, predictable enough, taught Art how to masturbate, all while we all took sips from the beer can that Art had given me when we first got here.

“Y’all are weird as fuck.” I snorted, a bit tipsy, wiping my mouth from my last gulp as I looked between the two boys who had red cheeks from a mix of alcohol and embarrassment, and can’t forget, two big smirks.

“No, Mila. I think it's a cute story.” Tashi nodded with a smile in an attempt to reassure the boys jokingly—a tactic she used to fully reel them in.

I rolled my eyes at this and fake glared at Tashi. “Only if you’re fucked in the head!” I laughed again while the rest of them laughed with me.

“Don’t tell me you two haven’t done anything weird like that,” Patrick said, making me whip my head to him before glancing back at Tashi.

“Yeah, you two have known each other since the womb. There’s no way you haven’t done nothing.” Art added and took a long swig of the beer can before passing it to Patrick, eyes trained on me for longer than I would have liked.

I shook my head with a small laugh before looking back to Tashi, who gave me an eyebrow in return, signaling something.

You ready?

…

I’m ready.

We nodded at each other before standing up and looking down at the boys.

“You guys aren’t leaving-“ Patrick started but stopped when he saw the two of us moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

My eyes locked with both of them briefly as I flashed the most innocent smile I could muster.

Here we go.

“Patrick, come sit by me…” Tashi spoke and patted the space to her left.

You didn’t have to tell him twice. He sprung up so fast he spilled the beer can everywhere on the carpet, but he couldn’t give a fuck.

As he sat down next to Tashi, my eyes locked onto Art’s. I did not need any words to tell him to sit by me.

He took the hint immediately, got up almost as fast as his best friend, and sat beside me, thigh already touching mine.

I turned to face him with lidded eyes and a small smile. I could hear his breath hitch as Adam’s apple bobbed, signifying that he took a small gulp. I softened my eyes to let him know it was okay to relax and that he could be comfortable around me.

Even though Tashi wanted to play with these boys like putty, I felt a little different about the situation.

As I tilted my head at Art slowly, I saw his face contort into a grin that radiated his comfort and need.

Leaning in slightly, I placed my hand on Art’s chest, noting how firm it felt through his thin shirt. Art mirrored my leaning in but instead placed a hand on my thigh. As I neared his lips, I teasingly pulled away as I felt Tashi pat my back. I smirked slightly at this and turned around as my lips met hers instead of Art’s.

It was an innocent kiss, a tactic to get these boys right where we wanted them. This action certainly answered their questions about us, and I hope it was worthwhile.

Once again, I could feel Art’s eyes piercing the back of my head, so I moved my hair off my shoulder and tapped the side of my neck so he would know what to do.

Almost immediately, his lips were latched onto my neck. I wondered for a moment if he was a vampire because of the way he was sucking on my neck. I figured he was searching for a blood vessel. Poor baby must have been deprived of any female touch, but the way his lips sucked profusely on my pulse point, I could tell this wasn’t his first rodeo.

Tashi and I pulled away from our innocent kiss and shot each other small smirks when we noticed that Patrick and Art were too lost in our necks to give a damn.

I tapped Art’s thigh so he would know to stop, which he reluctantly did. His lips were a bit swollen, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off them. Biting my lip, I reached up and brushed a finger across his bottom lip. As I did this, Art grabbed my hand and studied it before gently kissing my finger where my nail had broken. My eyes widened at this as my heart threatened to beat out of my chest.

Keep. your. composure.

Shaking out of my daze at his action, I smiled softly once again and leaned in slowly to connect our lips, hands on the back of his neck, threatening to tangle in his blonde curls.

Pillows. His lips feel like pillows.

The kiss was soft until his hand moved from my thigh to my waist. He pushed forward a bit until my back fully hit Tashi and tried to part my lips by biting my bottom one, but I pulled away before he could get that far.

Too easy.

Licking my lips to taste him, I turned back to Tashi, who placed her hand on my cheek to kiss me lightly again. As her lips melded with mine, I gingerly placed a hand on the base of Art’s jaw and slowly pulled him towards Tashi and me’s kiss. Immediately, I could feel Art’s lips meld with Tashi's, mine, and then Patrick’s, knowing that Tashi had done the same with him.

Now, the four of us were all kissing, making me slightly clench my thighs. Only slightly.

After about five seconds, I felt Tashi tap my back to signal me to pull away slowly.

As we both pulled away, Art and Patrick were full-on making out, not noticing that the two of us had abandoned the kiss. I glanced at Tashi with a smirk as she watched them in satisfaction.

It took everything in me not to giggle as I watched the two continue to eat each other's faces fervently.

Specifically Art.

After a beat, Tashi spoke up.

“Okay.” She said, which made the boys freeze and pull away from each other.

Immediately, they both looked at us in shock.

Got ‘em.

I tilted my head at Art as I gently reached my hand out to trace shapes on his thigh while he looked down at me like I had three heads.

“That was cute…” I mouthed to him with a soft smile as he continued to eye me up in shock mixed with a bit of awe.

“Well, we should get going before our parents freak out and wonder where we are,” Tashi says. I sit up as I follow suit, cutting any tension in the room.

Standing up from the bed, I chuckled to myself as I brushed off my clothes and fixed my hair. “It’s been fun,” I said, aiming my comment at Art. Thank you for having us,” I finished with a small, innocent smile as Tashi and I left.

“Wait!” Patrick said which stopped us in our tracks.

Turning around, Tashi and I shared matching grins that we quickly hid when we faced the boys.

Art spoke up next as he looked right at me. “What about your numbers?” He asked as he stared at me like a puppy deprived of dinner.

I crossed my arms and shrugged. “If you win tomorrow, I’ll give you my number,” I said plainly, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

“And I’ll give you my number if you win tomorrow,” Tashi said to Patrick just as plainly as I did.

Both boys shot each other smirks before nodding in agreement.

Tashi and I said our goodbyes before leaving the hotel room. When we were out of earshot, we both started laughing.

“We have them wrapped around our pretty little fingers!” Tashi exclaimed as she wrapped an arm around my shoulder.

I laughed at this and wrapped an arm around her waist. “I really hope Art wins,” I said in a dreamy tone of voice as I thought back to his face, lips, chest, everything, really.

Tashi shook me back and forth with a smile as she exclaimed, “I’m just ready to watch some good fucking tennis!” She laughed, knowing that the two boys were really going to battle it out with this new prize put into motion.

STANFORD UNIVERSITY - 2007 5:00 PM

As I slowly trudged from the tennis court to the dining hall, I felt my arms giving out.

“Fuck this damn bag,” I whined and went to a nearby bench to take a breather and bask in the California sun.

Today’s practice was by far the worst of the semester. I worked with my coach on my serve to prepare for my upcoming match, where I would face an opponent ranked decently high in the state.

Closing my eyes and throwing my head back to catch the rays of the warm sun, I let out a groan. I probably looked like a corpse to every passerby, but just like Tashi, they knew me, so hopefully, they would just smile and wave.

“Rough practice?” An extremely familiar and captivating voice snapped me back to reality.

Opening my eyes, I was met with my favorite pair of light blue eyes—something he would never know. Of course, a smirk adorned his features, and his blonde curls were tucked into a backward red cap, most certainly saying “Stanford” on the flip side.

“Art…” I spoke almost breathlessly as I sat up, brushed a piece of hair out of my face, and used my other hand to block the sun that Art’s head almost blocked.

“Hey, can I sit?” he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets, and nodded to where my bag was on the bench.

Quickly moving it to sit in front of my feet, I patted the empty seat next to me. “Sure.” I smiled at him and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear.

Over the summer, I would never allow myself to be so forward with Art Donaldson. I couldn’t speak for my present self, though. Since Patrick won the match, he and Tashi started dating after he scored her number. I, of course, was too upset to act like I didn’t give a damn about not being able to give Art my number. Tashi insisted that to keep their passion and drive for tennis alive, I keep up my end of the deal and don’t give Art my number. Hesitantly, I agreed as I knew how easily a stimulus like that can create great results. Since the match, Art and I have never spoken except for the occasional hello when passing by each other on the tennis court or dining hall. This moment was the first time I could speak with him since everything, and since I may have developed a slight…crush.

“So,” He started and turned his body on the bench to face me fully. “How have you been?” He tilted his head and tapped the back of the bench while studying my face.

Inhaling a sharp breath, I turned my body to face him fully, bringing one leg up and letting the other drape off the side of the bench.

“Do you want an honest answer?” I chuckled softly as I moved my hands to remove my hair from its braids.

In turn, Art laughed gently while smirking at me. His stare narrowed as he studied my face, acting like I was an old friend he had known for years.

“Well, if the honest answer is terrible and cruel, then I’m not so sure.” He responded and immediately matched my energy.

Damn you, Donaldson.

“Hey.” I softly laughed as I moved my dangling leg to kick his gently while I finished taking my hair out.

I wondered for a beat how I wanted to summarize months of memories, feelings, and experiences into one sentence, and this made me sigh.

“It’s been rough. Majoring in biology and the grueling tennis schedule makes me wanna rip my hair out.” I spoke in a low tone as I ironically and subconsciously began to play with a strand of my hair.

“I feel smothered.” I finished and silently cursed myself for acting so vulnerable.

That was three sentences, Milan. Not one.

As I stared at Art almost helplessly, his eyes softened.

“I feel the same way, trust me.” He chuckled softly before removing his hat and running a hand through his hair. “It really sucks, but it’s gonna be worth it,” He ended his thought before putting his hat back on.

“Fuck, and I thought I was the only one. Quite naive of me.” I laughed before looking back up at the sun. “It’s whatever, though. You’re right, and everything will come into place and be worth it.” I continued as I looked anywhere but at Art’s piercing stare.

Silence. He didn’t respond. He didn’t laugh. He did nothing except stare. Stare in a heavy silence that brought me back to the night in that damn hotel room.

After a few beats, I returned to my senses, slowly stood up from the bench, and brushed my skirt off.

“Well, I didn’t mean to stay here for long, so I’m gonna head off.” I went to pick up my bag as I spoke disappointedly.

I couldn’t allow myself to fall into the trenches. I needed to focus on my studies and tennis. Hard work makes everything worthwhile, and a boy isn’t part of that everything right now.

“Wait, Milan,” Art spoke up and grabbed my wrist, his grip as firm as it would be if he held his racket.

This made me freeze in my tracks. What the hell did he think he was doing?

My eyes slowly met Art’s as I parted my lips to speak, but nothing came out, so he spoke for me.

“It’s been months, Milan,” he started, his grip on my wrist still firm, his eyes scanning my face for any hints of discomfort.

“I know we only really talked with each other that one night and had no time to get to know each other, but I would like to get to know you better.” He didn’t falter. Not once. I don’t even think he blinked.

My lips had gone dry, and my voice, for some reason, grew hoarse.

“Art…” I slowly began as I looked down at his hand, gripping my wrists. “The four of us had a deal…” I made sure to tread lightly with a severe tone.

Two feet and ten toes on the ground. Don’t falter. Don’t give in.

“They’re a happy fucking couple, Milan. I doubt they give two shits.” He stated matter-of-factly as I felt his thumb rub up and down on my wrist.

How naive.

Biting my lip in thought, I began an internal battle with myself. I wanted this so bad. And I could tell Art wanted it just as bad as I did—possibly more.

I deserve a win other than tennis.

Sighing, I removed my arm from his grasp and moved to my tennis bag to look for a piece of paper. Instead, I found a piece of muscle tape and a small pencil. Quickly scribbling down my number, I could feel Art trying to see what I was doing.

“Here,” I said with slightly red cheeks as I stood back up and handed him the piece of muscle tape. “Don’t go blowing up my phone now,” I playfully scolded before picking up my bag and walking past him, glancing at the triumphant smile playing on his perfect features.

Perfect? …yeah.

Before I began my trek to the dining hall, I touched Art’s shoulder and whispered in his ear.

“I didn’t want to admit it, but I really wanna get to know you more, too.”

NEXT DAY, STANFORD DORMS 11:00 AM

MEET ME IN THE DINING HALL FOR LUNCH?

My eyes stared at the text in utter disbelief. Art certainly didn’t take any time once he got what he’d been craving all summer.

“Why do you look so shocked?” Tashi laughed from the foot of my bed as she hit my leg.

Fuck.

My eyes looked to her as I shut my phone, put it next to me, and picked my computer back up to pretend to look at my study guide for an upcoming biology quiz.

“My mom sent me a weird text,” I laughed awkwardly before covering my face with my computer.

“Are you fucking with me?” Tashi laughed as I heard her moving up towards my side of the bed.

She shut my computer to look at my face, which was for sure red as a tomato.

“You’re lying,” she smirked before sitting on her knees and clapping her hands. What is it? A boy? A girl?” She persisted as she grabbed my leg and widely smiled at me.

I rolled my eyes at this before clicking my tongue. “Why are you so dead set on the fact that I was texting someone romantically?” I crossed my arms and bit the inside of my cheek, probably a dead giveaway.

Tashi’s face fell as her brows furrowed, and she crossed her arms, mimicking me.

“You’re joking, right?” She started before studying my stern expression. “We’ve known each other for what, eighteen fucking years?” She used this as a tactic to crack me. “I know your every expression and what it means. I could write a thesaurus on you if I wanted to.” She stated as she sucked on her teeth, brows still furrowed.

I stared at her sternly for a few beats before sighing and turning my head to look anywhere but at her.

“Fine, you got me…” I trailed before uncrossing my arms to fumble with my fingers. “but this is the first time I’ve received a text, so it’s not important.” I put my hands up and looked at her as an explanation as to why she shouldn’t ask questions.

I should know better.

Tashi’s annoyed face instantly turned into a happy one as she bounced on the bed and continuously hit my leg.

“Who is the lucky guy? or girl…” She tilted her head with a goofy smile, which she would only show me.

“It’s a boy…” I sighed before turning my head to look at my closest, as it suddenly looked very interesting.

No matter how long I had known Tashi, I couldn’t gauge how she would react to this. She’s a very pushy person who likes everything to go her way, but I’m hoping that since it’s me, she will react differently.

She shrieked and shook my legs back and forth with a giggle.

She’ll be so disappointed.

“Who is it? Is it that cute boy I caught you practicing with the other week? Or that one boy that you sometimes study with from your Chemistry class? Or maybe it's that random guy from the baseball team I saw you talking within the dining hall last week?” She fired off in a millisecond as I stared at her in utter disbelief.

“Okay, first of all, how did you know about all of those? And second of all, the first guy is gay, the second guy has a girlfriend, and the last one was giving my pencil back to me after using it for a quiz we took in statistics.” I responded as I rolled my eyes so hard I thought the whites of them would turn permanent.

“I’m your best friend. I know everything.” She spoke eerily with wide eyes before breaking into a smirk. “So, come on! Tell me who it is!” She bounced repeatedly on the bed and shook me back and forth until I finally had enough.

“Fine!” I exclaimed and threw my hands up in the air.

Fuck it.

“It was Art, alright.” I threw my hands up as I bit the bullet and came clean.

Tashi’s face dropped almost instantly as his name fell off my lips. She wasn’t happy. Not at all.

“What the fuck do you mean?” She laughed in disbelief as she shook her head and moved her hands from my legs.

I immediately sat up more and moved towards her.

“I saw him after practice yesterday, and we got to talk,” I explained as I bit the inside of my cheek in anticipation. “He asked for my number, and I figured since everything happened months ago, there would be no issue…” I trailed off and looked her straight in the eyes with a pleading expression.

Tashi just stared at me and shook her head slowly.

“We had a deal with them…” She stared at me with an accusatory face.

“Tash, I know,” I exclaimed and grabbed her hands. “But you knew I liked him more than what happened in that hotel room. Plus, you and Patrick are happy, so why should it matter?” I asked and shook my head as I gripped her hands.

She stared at me as if I kicked her puppy and gasped in her throat. “Um, to keep their passion alive? To ensure they both strive for better and strengthen their relationship with tennis?” She spoke as if it was plain as day.

Furrowing my brows, I slowly shook my head and parted my lips, shocked.

“Is tennis all you care about?”

I shouldn’t have said that.

My words echoed in my mind as I retracted my hands from Tashi’s and bit my lip, feeling defeated. Her stare pierced into my soul as she looked away from me and placed her hands on her thighs.

“If this is what you want, go ahead. I can’t and won’t stop you.” She spoke slowly before eyeing me.

Fuck, I messed up.

“But never think for a second that I care about tennis more than you.” She choked out as she looked at the picture of us in fifth grade sitting on my bedside table.

At this, my eyes widened, and I nodded slowly as a single tear slid down my cheek. Moving towards Tashi, I wrapped my arms around her waist and hugged her.

“Pinky promise?” I whispered into her neck while she returned the hug.

“Pinky promise.” She responded and grabbed my hand to interlock our pinkies.

340 notes · View notes

hyperfixiation-station · 8 months ago

Note

🥺 hi. I get so anxious asking for requests. So I’m sorry if it’s weird. But could I please please Pleaseee get a ghost x fem reader. Hurt to comfort. They were on a mission and she’s there for medic help. Not even to fight. But she got taken by the bad guys. And she gets tortured for information that she doesn’t have. And they play mind games with her. Making her think that they will never come rescue her. They really fully break her body and break her mind by the end of it. But before she thinks she’s about to finally die, Ghost and the others come and save her. And it’s about how the only person she feels safe with after all that is ghost and just him helping her heal and get back to the woman she was before all this. I want it to hurt my soul. 😭 but then there’s hope at the end of it bc they have each other.

My Heart Will Go On

Don't be, I love when people ask me things, and I looooved this request so much!!! I too like to torturehave fun with my OC's :)

TW: Blood, torture, manipulation

Pairing: GhostxReader

Part 2

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. It wasn’t supposed to happen at all, actually. It was just another mission, another day on the job. You went out with the boys as usual, their assigned medic as theyghost refused to work with anybody else. You weren’t sure why. Maybe it was your soft demeanor, your gentle touch, the way you never judged himthem for anything hethey did. But whatever it was, they liked you, and so with them you went.

You hung back at the evac point, also as usual. Sitting in the truck, first aid kit on your lap, a comm in your ear as you listened to your boys and made sure they were all okay. It was a tense fight, gunshots and pained grunting filling your headset. You were on edge, rocking back and forth as you listened for your que to come in. In fact, you were so focused on the comms that you didn’t even notice the danger you were in until it was too late.

Your first cue something was wrong was when the comms went silent. The sounds of battle filled your ears for hours before getting cut off abruptly. Your hand shot to the comm link, fiddling with it as you frantically tried to reconnect, worried something was wrong.

“Ghost, do you copy?”

“Ghost?”

“Price?”

“Gaz?”

“Can you hear me??” Your voice got more and more panicked as you got no response. You yanked the headset off and shrugged your vest on, kit in hand as you slid out of the truck.

Your second clue something was wrong was when you looked up to see the barrel of a gun pointed directly at your face. You didn't even have time to ask ‘what’ before everything went dark.

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

“Hello, princesa.” You blink hard as the blindfold is removed from your eyes. The light is blinding, the splitting headache you got from being pistol whipped only intensifying under the harsh lights.

“Who are you?” You manage after a moment, eyes slowly focusing on the man in front of you. He is large, easily over six foot, and built like an absolute unit. His face is covered by a black balaclava, though his scarred, tattooed forearms are on display.

“Don’t play stupid with me.” His voice is deep and smooth, and if you weren’t in the situation you are in you would have asked him to keep talking.

“‘M not! I don't-"

“Don’t lie to me Princesa. I don’t like liars.” A shiver runs down your spine as his tone darkens.

“But I’m-”

“Ah ah lovie, I am one asking questions here.”

“I wasn’t ask-”

“SHUT UP!” You flinch back at the drastic change in tone, the sound sending bolts of pain through your skull.

“Oh sorry Princesa, did that hurt?” Seriously, you are going to get whiplash from his bi-polar personality, “Forgot you have concussion. Let's get you Advil for that and then we see if you talk, yeah?"

You watch with blurry vision as he leaves the room, slamming the door shut behind him. The sound sends waves of agony through your pounding head, and by the time you can focus again he's back.

All it takes is one well placed blow to the head, an attempt to get you to pay attention, and you're out like a light.

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

“I don’t know anything I swear! Please! I don't know anything!” The sobs tear raggedly out of your throat, already raw from screaming. Your voice is scratchy and broken, but still you can't stop begging.

“I don’t know anything” You sob. Those words, I don’t know, had become your motto over the past few daysweeks(?)

“Oh Princesa. I know.” He croons, running a finger down your bruised face.

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

Time was meaningless. Has it been 2 days since you were captured? Two weeks? Months? You don’t know. Your meals come at staggered times, and your captors never come at a routine time. The lights turn on and off at staggered times, nothing in a set pattern, a system created to mess with your mind.

Not that you know that. This wasn’t the kind of life you lived. You were a medic for heaven's sake. Your hands had been built to mend, to fix, to heal. Not to clutch at broken bones, to scratch against cement, to be chained and broken. You arewere a gentle creature, not designed for this world of torture and terror.

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

"They no come for you." You moan as the words pound through your skull, nearly unintelligible.

"Wh'...y'say?" You mumble, voice scratchy and broken.

"You're friends, Princesa. They are no coming for you." He sighs and moves next you, prodding your side with his steel-toed boot, "You are replaceable, your skills are easily replicated, they no spend time and resources to find a simple medic."

"They…'ll c'me." You wheeze, refusing to belive that Price, that Gaz, that Soap, that Ghost, would just...leave you.

He laughs in response, digging his toe into your side until your gasping in pain.

"We shall see, Princesa. We shall see."

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

You weren’t built for this. Weren’t built to recognize the manipulation, the mind games. Weren’t built to survive the two-face man who was reshaping your brain. The man who was your greatest source of pain, but also your only friend. The man that flayed your flesh open, but soothed and bandaged you when it was all over. This man, who was slowly becoming the only thing you could trust in your unstable world. He may bring you unbearable pain, but he brought you comfort too.

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

"That looks bad, Princesa." The man lightly touches the bones sticking out of your forearm. You whine in pain, clutching it to your chest. He chuckles, wiping your blood off on the cell floor.

"Let's get that fixed up, yeah?" His voice is soft, and gentle, and the nicest thing you've heard in a loooong time. His touch is the same, gentle caresses of bruised and broken skin, revolting and appealing at the same time.

Oh, it's utter agony as he sets and stitches your arm with no pain killers. You scream, back arching, lungs heaving, body seizing.

But after? Oh it's heaven. He holds you, cradling you against his warm body, making sure you don't go into shock, telling you you're a good girl, and that you've made him proud. You hate yourself for it, but you can't help but preen at the praise.

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

He brings you a calendar. One month. It’s been one month since you got taken.

“It’s been over a month.” He says, a deep voice tinged with pity, “and no sign of your…friends. I’d give up being rescued if I were you, because they clearly have.” You can barely hear him as you stare at the paper in his hands, 31 days marked off with big, bright X’s. 31 days that you have been trapped here. 31 days that your squad…hadn’t come for you. Is he right? Are they really not coming? Did Ghost really give up on you? Are you-

“Ay Princesa, I even did what you asked. I sent your squad pictures and videos that even the greenest tech member could pull some coordinates from, but nothing. It’s like I said. Your ‘friends’ don’t care for you. They are not coming for you. I am your only friend in this place. Tell me, who bandages your wounds, who feeds you, who makes sure your living space is comfortable?”

“Y-you do.” You whisper uncertainty, “But…you also hurt me, don’t you?”

“Oh Princesa, I wouldn’t hurt ya if y’ would just listen. It not torture if you're disobedient. It's just…punishment.” His voice is sickeningly sweet, “And you just back-talked me. Do you remember what happens when you try to give me sass?”

"I get…punished." You mumble, cheeks flushing with shame.

"Obviously, you fucking idiot. I mean how."

"I…you…I have to do affirmations."

"Look at that, y'r gettin' it!"

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

"Say it again." He snarls. You sit in front of a mirror, face bruised, bleeding, and swollen.

"I 'm r'pl'c'able, my friends…'re n-no'...c'min'...I 'm no' l'v'ble…I 'm r'pl'c'…able." You whisper for the hundredth time.

"Again."

"I 'm r'pl'c'able, my friends 're no'...c'min'...I 'm no' l'vable, I 'm r'pl'c'…able."

"Again!"

"I 'm r'pl'c'able, my friends 're no'...c'min'...I 'm no' l'vable, I 'm r'pl'c'…able."

He makes you keep going, repeating those 4 sentences until you literally can't make sound anymore, a fact he tests by seeing how much it takes to get you to scream. You pass out before he gets anywhere.

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

"Ghost?"

"Simon?"

"Please."

"Why are you not coming for me?"

just FYI if the timing seems disjointed and the speech is wierd, that is intentiweird,

anyways I hope you liked it!!!!

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ohbueckers · 2 months ago

Text

TWO CAN PLAY THAT GAME. i’m only tryna’ get inside of your brain to see if you can work me the way you say.

CHAPTER FIVE! pairing, paige bueckers x teammate!oc. notes, they make me sick, that’s it. also would you guys wanna see sana’s faceclaim for visuals?? i’ll proofread this a little later whooooops. warnings, a glimpse into sana’s dirty mind.. & paige just wanting that cookie real bad.

october, 2022

“we got a birthday!”

i was halfway across the dining hall, grinning as i stalked over. it was early, but you wouldn’t be able to tell with the way everyone was moving around, grabbing plates, loading up on eggs, bacon, waffles, the whole deal. i always liked this part of the day—when the team wasn’t just teammates, but more like a family.

family to an extent.

i was half-asleep, barely dressed in a nike crewneck and some joggers that had been getting a little too small for my height, glasses on, hair pulled back in a messy bun. it didn’t help that my knee’d been killing me, and i was just trying to make it through the morning without anyone bugging me too much. but as soon as i found our table, i could already tell today wasn’t gonna be one of those days. when was it ever?

and then there was also her. sana, sitting right there, already halfway through her breakfast like she wasn’t the main reason i was feeling all outta sorts this morning. she looked stupid good for someone who probably just rolled out of bed, wearing a black tube top and some uconn sweats that probably weren’t hers based on the way they fit around her waist. her hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, a few curl strands falling loose around her face, and her earrings caught the light every time she moved.

i turned before i could get caught looking. still, as i slid into my seat between ice and yana, i caught her glancing at me with that smirk. she knew exactly what she was doing.

i moved my gaze to aaliyah. “my birthday isn’t for another week,” i emphasized, dropping my plate on the table before sitting down.

“exactly a week today,” aaliyah corrected, pointing her fork at me before stabbing into her eggs. “so, what’s the plan?”

i huffed like i actually had to contemplate it. “it’s on a thursday. we have practice the next day.”

“so?” amari furrowed her eyebrows at the end of the table.

i shook my head, chuckling as i grabbed a piece of bacon to shove in my mouth. “y’all know cd don’t play around like that. i’m not about to catch heat over this.” i wasn’t the one practicing, obviously, but i could already see the blame coming my way. my birthday and all that. geno was more lenient, but with official practices just beginning to start i was sure that was out the window for now.

“how would she even know?” ice asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“she always knows,” half the table responded in unison, like they’d been through it enough times to know better.

i grinned. “exactly, like she got eyes everywhere or something.” i could feel sana looking at me from across the table, and i’d realized she was awfully quiet this morning. i didn’t look back.

nika pouted. “so, no ted’s? you’re telling me we’re not hitting the bar for your birthday?”

i chewed on my lip, slumping back in my chair. “nah, we can just do something chill at the apartments. prolly just drink, have some fun,” i stated simply. “then our freshie’s won’t get carded.” i slung my arm over ice’s shoulder, smiling smugly as she rolled her eyes.

“okay, but what about their first ted’s experience?” aaliyah cut in, raising an eyebrow at me. “you’re really gonna deprive them of that?”

i shrugged, groaning internally, though. ted’s is not that special. i could see where this was headed.

nika leaned in from across the table, a smirk playing on her lips. “yeah, p, how’s sana supposed to fully adjust to uconn if she doesn’t get the ted’s initiation? you know that’s part of the culture.”

i felt my eyes shift toward sana almost instinctively, catching her gaze as she gave me this half-smile. the kind that was all knowing. she leaned back in her seat, pushing her tray aside as she stretched, looking way too comfortable. “yeah, paige. don’t you want me to have the full experience?” she teased, voice dropping just low enough to make the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

i shoved two cut-up waffles into my mouth, and naturally, my mouth ran before my brain could stop it. “i could give you another experience, too.” it was a mumble, muffled by the food, but she heard it.

i knew not to look at her, and the second the words left my lips, i regretted it. but then again… not really. her eyes narrowed slightly, and she leaned back, crossing her arms like she wasn’t impressed. then, without warning, bam—her foot connected with my shin under the table.

“yo!” i hunched over, yelping and grabbing at my leg as i glared at her. “what was that for?”

sana barely blinked, her smirk still intact. “oh, did i kick the good one?” she asked innocently, but i could see the way her eyes were gleaming.

i narrowed my eyes, trying to bite back a smile as i nodded, but it wasn’t working. “real funny, sana,” i muttered, rubbing my leg like it actually hurt. “you tryna take me out before i’m even back on the court?”

she raised an eyebrow, leaning in a little, her voice dropping just enough to where only i could hear. it felt intimate. too intimate for who we were surrounded by. “maybe. if you keep running your mouth.”

i blinked, caught off guard for a second. but before i could come up with anything remotely witty, ice nudged me, pulling me back into the moment. when i turned to look at her, she was already giving me a look—like she’d heard every word of that exchange and was silently demanding an explanation. her eyebrows were practically up in her hairline, and her eyes moved between me and sana.

i cleared my throat, sitting up straighter as my eyes darted around the table. “aight, aight,” i said, louder now, trying to drown out the tension. “we’ll head to ted’s. celebrate proper. y’all happy now?”

the reaction was immediate. a mix of cheers and clapping came from everyone—except sana. she was still leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, watching me with that look. the kind that made me feel like i was the only one in the room, like this whole thing was a game to her, and she was already ten steps ahead.

she knew she had the upper hand. and the worst part? i didn’t even hate it.

━━━

i stretched out on nika’s couch, phone in hand, scrolling through my texts. i’d walked up to her apartment a little before our last-minute plan to attend the homecoming football game after practice, leaving her to finish tidying herself up. uconn’s football team hadn’t been doing very well this season, but it sounded a little fun, and it gave us something to do.

my conversation with paige had been sitting there for a while, her last message unread, just sitting at the top of the screen. it was the kind of message you see and purposely ignore for a bit—not because you didn’t want to respond, but because you wanted them to feel the wait.

my thumb hovered over the message, and i sighed, opening it.

So we not gonna talk about the other night?

You left me hangin bro.

…sana

Yo fr tho wyd tonight?

i couldn’t help the little smile that tugged at the corner of my lips. she’d been atleast a little bit more cordial than this at breakfast earlier, but the desperation in these texts? different story. she was like a dog with a bone when she wanted something, and right now, i knew exactly what she wanted, oddly enough. it’s wrong. i know we’re teammates. but i couldn’t help but feel like i was already in too deep now. there’s no harm in a little fun.

especially if no one knows, and even more when there’s no way she’s being serious.

i typed back, keeping it short.

other night? what happened again?

the dots popped up immediately, and i could already picture the look on her face—probably half annoyed, half plotting her next move.

Stop playing

You know I wasn’t tryna let you leave like that

Wanted to get you right

before i could even process how far she was gonna take it, i heard the door creak open, and nika strolled in fully dressed and ready to go, her phone in hand, completely oblivious to the fact that she was about to walk right into paige’s thirst trap. she plopped down on the other end of the couch, and her face lit up with whatever the other person was saying on speaker.

but as she talked more, it registered.

paige.

whatever paige was saying on speaker. of course she was on the phone.

i slouched further into the couch, tilting my phone away from nika a bit as my fingers hovered over the keyboard. i then typed up another response.

sure you could’ve handled it?

another immediate reply. oh, she’s milking this.

Sana

You don’t even know

Lemme come thru & I’ll show you how much I can handle

tough talk, i thought.

“just come!” nika’s voice cut through the room, snapping me out of my phone screen. i blinked, my head shooting up to actually pay attention to the conversation. i couldn’t even fathom how she was multi-tasking right now.

“why do you want me to come so bad!?” paige’s voice was defensive and laced with just enough irritation to make me smirk, like she’d been putting up a fight all evening, and it finally registered in my brain that the brunette had probably been trying to convince paige to tag along with us, while she was too busy thinking she’d actually be getting into my bed tonight. “amari’s going, yana, aubrey. you have plenty company, nik.”

“and i guess sana, too,” nika added, a little too casually like she didn’t just drop a bomb. i almost cursed at her, holding a tight-lipped grin as i shut my eyes for a moment. “just missing my twin…” nika crossed her legs, sighing dramatically as she stared at the ceiling, fluttering her eyes and really playing into this hurt act.

there was a brief pause, and i could practically feel paige’s attention shift. “wait, sana’s going?”

nika shot me a glance, completely oblivious. “yeah, she’s right next to me.”

i bit my lip to hold back a laugh, but paige wasn’t even trying to hide hers. the sound of her laughter rang out through the phone, and nika furrowed her brows in confusion. “what’s so funny?”

“aight, i’ll go,” paige finally said, and i could hear the smile in her voice, which was either genuine or just from laughing.

my eyes widened. that was telling. real telling.

“really?” nika’s eyes went just as wide, turning to me with a ‘i-think-i-know’ look, before a pleased one. “should’ve started with that, huh?”

━━━

the stadium lights were bright, too bright over the packed bleachers, the crowd a sea of navy and white. i shifted in my seat, adjusting my hoodie and pulling it tighter around myself. it was getting colder by the minute, but honestly, the chill wasn’t really the problem. not when paige was sitting to my right, just a row below me. maybe i’d purposefully made sure we weren’t next to each other. close enough to be in each other’s eyeline, but far enough that she couldn’t whisper any snarky remarks in my ear.

she was stretched out like she owned the place, leaning against the bleachers with her arms casually draped over the backrest, legs kicked out in front of her. she’d looked a little pissed, too—although she wouldn’t say it to anyone. and i had a feeling it was about me volunteering to switch seats with ines before the game started.

her crewneck had changed, not the same one she’d been wearing this morning. it had risen just a little, showing a sliver of skin at her waist that i tried not to stare at, but it was hard to ignore. paige was always like this—comfortable, confident. i suppose that’s what made her so despicable. everything suited her too well. meanwhile, i was just here trying to keep my thoughts straight.

the halftime whistle blew, and i shot up from my seat a little too quickly. “i’m heading to concessions,” i announced, mostly to myself, already heading down the steps.

paige shot her head up. “lemme come with you,” she said immediately, her voice cutting through the chatter of our teammates like it was meant just for me. i’m sure she could see a middle finger reflecting from my eyeballs.

i knew it was too late to refuse without making things awkward, so i silently accepted it, asking if anyone wanted anything.

“a pretzel,” ines replied.

“a coke pretty please, honey,” nika smiled sweetly at me, the nickname a funny tease into when amari had said we argue like a married couple.

paige, who had been sitting almost lazily just a moment ago, stood up and stretched, her shirt rising just enough for me to catch another glimpse of her stomach. she pulled her crewneck down, fingers brushing the hem, scrunching her face up slightly as she arched her back, her body extending to stretch her limbs out. every movement was slow—or maybe that was just how it felt in my head, because i almost didn’t forgot what anyone had said. my eyes moved down to her abs, and before i could stop myself, i licked my lips.

she was doing this on purpose. she had to be.

i cleared my throat, forcing myself to break my gaze and turn, heading down the bleachers almost in a rush. our stalling had beat the rush of people, but i knew the concessions line wouldn’t be much better.

the blonde was hot on my tail, picking up her pace to keep up with me. our stalling had beaten the crowd, but i knew the concessions line wouldn’t be much better. i could hear paige’s steps behind me, a little too quick, like she was making sure i wouldn’t slip away again.

“you tryna lose me already?” she chuckled.

i looked over my shoulder, slowing down just a little. “i didn’t realize you needed a babysitter.”

she scoffed, running a hand through down her ponytail. “nah, i just figured you might need some help carrying all that stuff. y’know, since you’re too proud to ask for it.”

i squinted at her as she slid up next to me. i shouldve known her longer legs had more of a chance. “i’m not some damsel.” my eyes flickered to the corner of her mouth, watching the way her lips tugged up into that infuriating half-smile. i rolled my eyes, looking in front of me again. “you offering to be useful for once?”

“oh, i’m useful, trust me,” paige muttered, her voice dropping a notch as she stepped even closer. “but you already know that.”

it was quiet. i didn’t want to respond, but paige would make sure she got something out of me. “we gonna talk?” she threw out.

i smirked. i couldn’t help it. “what’s there to talk about?”

paige stepped a little closer, trying to catch my eyes, but it didn’t quite work. “i told you i wanted to get you alone, sana. i meant it.” she paused. “don’t tell me you’re back to hating me.” her tone only sounded half-serious.

i really hated it when she said my name.

i stopped walking for a second, turning to face her. “stop that.”

her eyes met mine, the faintest hint of a smile still playing on her lips. “stop what?”

i scoffed, brushing past her to keep moving. “you’re not that special.”

“riiiiiight,” paige replied, sounding far from offended. if anything, she was more amused, and for some reason unbeknownst to me, i fucking liked it.

it was always way more complicated with girls, you can easily learn that in questioning. but paige? she wasn’t just a girl. she was paige. she was intense and frustrating and too confident for her own good, and i just wasn’t sure if i wanted to let her in. because once i did, i knew it wouldn’t be casual. she’d make me care.

but God, did i want it. God, did i want her. we’d just have to keep enough emotional distance. that could be easy. only if we made it so.

paige fell into step beside me again, her voice dropping just a bit. “you’re thinking too hard.”

i raised an eyebrow. “and you know what i’m thinking? how?”

“I don’t need to know,” she said, her voice softening in a way that made my heart beat a little faster. all of our exchanges felt like this. like the first day of practice when i told her she was pressing, playing like she had something to prove. it wasn’t just about her movements then, i could see it in her eyes, the way she wasn’t at ease. i don’t know how i knew, but i did. “i just know you’re holding back.”

we reached the concession stand, and i exhaled, relieved for the distraction. the distraction from my supposed distraction. funny.

paige’s voice pulled me back, soft but unrelenting. “you’ont have to decide anything tonight, you know. but you can’t act like you’re not thinking about it.” her voice sounded almost accusing.

i glanced at her, seeing the seriousness behind the playful front for once. she wasn’t just messing with me. she was offering something real, something i wasn’t sure i was ready for. but damn if i didn’t want to find out.

“imma let you decide, and i’ll be here with open arms,” she added, smiling way too wide for someone who didn’t have something else up her sleeve. i crossed my arms over my chest, squinting at her.

“and open legs,” she whispered.

there it was. i gasped almost dramatically, pushing at her abdomen harshly to make her stumble as she laughed, clearly getting a kick out of her behavior.

might i add that her request didn’t sound half bad?

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x reader #uconn x reader #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers uconn #uconn #tcptg #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers smut #paige x reader #lgbtq fanfiction #lgbtq #wlw fanfic #wlw smut #wlw post #wlw blog

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xxepherr · 2 months ago

Text

.ೃ࿐SLIP UP | OP81

summary — in which oscar wasn't exactly ready for the world to find out that he had a girlfriend, but he can't find it in him to be upset about the outcome when one slip up exposes the secret (au where oscar likes to stream)

pairings — oscar piastri x fem!unnamed!oc

pronouns — she/her, labelled as his girlfriend.

word count — 2253

note — this whole layout is stolen from @love-quinn . love her literally more than anything!!!! also this is just me emptying out my short wattpad drafts on here <3

IT WAS A TYPICAL summer break.

after settling back home and taking a few days to rest and recover from the first half of the season, oscar found himself sat at his computer, streaming to thousands because of his newfound, downtime hobby.

really, streaming was just an excuse for him to play games and be his entertaining self while doing it . . . and also because his lovely girlfriend had told him to stop annoying her while she cleaned their home.

annoying in the sense that he wanted to help but did it wrong, kept trying to distract her from the tasks at hand so that her attention could be on him instead, and was disturbing her alone time — after she'd explained that she just wanted some time for herself because she'd spent the last few days relaxing with him, he'd kissed her cheek with a smile and headed upstairs to stream.

he'd really got lucky with his girlfriend. she was a florist he'd met back in melbourne a few years ago when he was buying flowers for his mum to apologise for not calling her for a week ( it wasn't on purpose, of course, but it was a mistake he wouldn't make again ). she'd helped him pick the right flowers because he was clueless and then he had turned the charm on — learning her name, and also learning that she finished her shift at four-thirty and was free afterwards. the rest was history.

SHE knew oscar was streaming after he'd sent her a text. that had been two hours ago, and she hadn't seen him entering the kitchen for water or something to eat since.

"explain to me how he's always hungry but forgets to eat," she muttered under her breath. dropping the rubber gloves onto the dining table, she walked past that and into the kitchen to prepare something for him to at least snack on.

it was a difficult relationship for them outside their maisonette in the uk. She was nervous about people finding out that she was the lucky girl dating oscar piastri, and oscar, despite wanting to have her by his side at events, was happy to keep the secret just for the few that they could trust because he wasn't entirely ready either. some of the drivers on the grid knew, a few of his team knew, and their families knew. it seemed like a lot of people to know about something they were keeping secret, but everyone kept their mouths shut and mentioned nothing about it to the public.

the only one who did talk about oscar and relationships was his teammate in interviews, and that was only to tease oscar by saying that he wasn't in a relationship and could 'pull no bitches' because he knew that oscar couldn't defend himself and say that he could — not that he would call her a bitch though, not even as a joke. it just wasn’t in his vocabulary.

she threw together a simple mix of greek yogurt, berries and granola to the correct portions and filled up a glass of water before heading up the stairs to the open space — the study that had become his streaming and trophy room, and a little living space that was perfect for basking in the sun under all the windows above.

to her surprise, it was quiet. quieter than usual. usually she could at least her murmurs through the door when he was streaming because the walls weren’t necessarily thick. but there was nothing but silence to be heard, and she couldn't think of a time their house had been this quiet.

as silently as possible, she walked down the short hallway and stopped outside of the study, setting down the bowl and the glass and cringing when they made a soft clink against the glass table outside the door.

out of curiosity, she moved closer to the door, pressing her ear against the wood and waiting to hear a faint rustle or oscar’s voice to break through the void. silence.

it was an uncharacteristic silence that left her feeling uneasy. she knew nothing would be wrong, but it wasn’t right for full-blown silence, not even with how introverted he could be on rest day.

oscar, despite his own level of quiet, was still the louder of the two, leaning more into his ambivert side when he felt like it while she stayed comfortable as a full-time introvert. she never raised her voice above its usual quiet tone, not unless it was around oscar or one of her other friends and they had coaxed it out of her through jokes and laughter. the only time oscar was ever really this quiet was when he was tired or asleep or sometimes when he was eating dinner.

uh, she thought when she was met with nothing, do i knock? no, that makes it look like someone's here . . . um . . .

with one last thought, her simple idea was to open the door just a little, just enough so that it was barely obvious and so that she could look through the tiny gap to see if he was alive and breathing in there.

with a slow motion, she managed to turn the doorknob without a sound, and once she had it unclipped, she kept it still for a moment so that she could take a breath and let go of the one she had been holding.

she pushed the door a little as slowly as possible, and it was working, but she just needed to move it a little more so that a gap could form between the door and its frame.

there was something she had asked oscar to do months ago when he was back home with a two week break between races. it had been something so simple. it was just to oil the hinges in the house so that the doors would stop creaking every time they were moved. he'd told her he'd fixed the issue ( which she knew meant that he had asked his mum how to fix it ) and it hadn't been brought up again.

however, it was clear now that he hadn't fixed the hinges.

very colourful words circulated through her mind as a soft creak echoed through the quiet home, and more specifically, through the room that probably had a stream going. fuck. shit. motherfucker. fucking hell. what the fuck. son of a bitch. piece of shit door.

through the crack now in the door, she could just see her very much alive boyfriend sitting at his desk chair with his headphones on, and was . . . whispering? and, just to her luck, he had the camera positioned a little over more today, and the door was in frame.

OSCAR quit whispering ( because someone in the chat said that their cat was asleep and that was his default, sarcastic answer ) the second his eyes scanned his chat and saw multiple messages that read out the same thing: the door moved. it took him a few seconds to comprehend it, but then his head snapped over to the door and noticed that it was just barely ajar.

"one sec," he quickly said and then muted the microphone. once he was sure he was muted, he spun in his chair to face the door, covering half of his mouth from the camera so that no one could read his lips. "Hey?” he didn’t sound frustrated, just warm and soft all the same. “you there?"

"they saw, didn't they?" he heard the quiet voice of his girlfriend on the other side of the door. "i'm sorry, i was just trying to—"

"hey, no," oscar shook his head, voice soothing. "it's alright, baby, it's alright. i can play it off as something if you'd like . . . or you can come in and say hi. up to you." he didn't want to sound like he was pressuring her. they had been dating for almost two years now, and they had kept it quiet for this long. if she was ready, he was happy to show her off.

"uh . . ." she faltered. "i mean . . . do i have to talk much?"

"not if you don't want to," he answered gently. "we don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

but she thought about it, and looked to the granola bowl next to her. why not? "okay."

"okay," oscar turned back to his computer and unmuted the mic. "i have someone for you lot to meet. be nice.”

a few seconds later, the door opened a little wider, and she could now be seen in the corner of the camera's reach. taking a deep breath, she picked up the bowl and the glass with slightly shaky hands and took a few cautious steps into the room.

oscar’s eyes lit up the moment he saw her, his pupils almost forming hearts at the sight. so warm, so soft, so mellow. "aw," he stood up from the chair and took the food and drink from her. "thank you."

"you always forget to eat," she mumbled, refusing to look at the computer and instead keeping her eyes on him. he set the items down on his desk before moving back over to her, and once he was close enough, she clasped onto his forearm.

"was an accident, i swear," he shot her a quick smile before slowly walking her over to his set up. "chat, i guess this is . . ." he looked back at her, wondering if she was comfortable with sharing her name, and when she shook her head, and shot her a reassuring smile. "twitch chat, this is my lovely girlfriend. and lovely girlfriend, this is my twitch chat."

She lifted her free hand to give a little wave, "hi," she said, clutching oscar’s arm a little tighter. her reflection stared back at her on the screen — she'd straightened her soft pink curls today because it was easier to maintain until she had time to wash it, and she was still in the old, paint-splattered clothes she normally wore when she spent the day cleaning.

her eyes caught the chat that was quickly speeding past much to her dismay, but what she had found actually served to make her smile. people were being nice. there were greetings and people saying she was pretty, and wondering how oscar of all people managed to pull her. it was strange to have so many people commenting about her, but it was the kind of strange that she was starting to find nice.

after a minute of watching the chat roll by while oscar made small-talk, she mentioned that she would see him after he finished streaming before leaving the room.

"HEY," OSCAR CRAWLED INTO bed, laying on his stomach and looking up at her.

she, who had showered and started reading in the time it took oscar to finish streaming, glanced down at him from where she was sitting. she slid the floral-decorated bookmark in between the pages she was reading and closed the book.

"hi," she smiled as soon as she saw him, moving her hand to sit in his soft hair. "how was your stream?"

"good," he smiled back at her, his eyes crinkling slightly. "everyone loved you, y'know?"

she shrugged, "i thought they'd be scarier," she admitted. she wasn't blind to the treatment that fans gave to their favourite's partner — it happened in every sport, and every career of a famous person. it would probably get worse when she went out with him in public, but almost every chat message that she quickly read when she had been in that room with him had been positive. that made it a little less terrifying.

"aw," oscar propped up his chin with his hand. "don't worry, i'll protect you," he winked at her, but she just rolled her eyes.

"you ran away from a bee yesterday, osc," she reminded him, voice deadpan, "telling me to kill it before it killed you. it was nowhere near you."

oscar tutted. "if i can see it, it's a threat."

she giggled and dropped her hand from his hair to pick up her book once again. as soon as it was in her hands, she glanced back up at oscar in confusion when he pushed down on her knees so that her legs were flat against the bed.

with one heavy movement, he rolled over so that he was on her legs, wiggling a little so that he was laying between them on his stomach and his head was pressed against her stomach. "go back to reading," he mumbled, closing his eyes. "g'night."

she glanced over at the clock on the bedside table that displayed four pm. it was definitely too early for him to have a deep sleep because otherwise he'd be waking her up all night, so she'd be waking him up when she finished reading. "sleep well, my love," she leaned forward to press a kiss to his forehead before flipping her book back open.

"also," his voice was quiet, riddled with tiredness at the words he needed to mumble out before sleep stole him.

"mhm?"

"'m proud of you for earlier. forgot to tell you."

her heart warmed at his words. with a newfound smile on her face and a flutter in her chest, she flipped through the pages of her book until she found her bookmark and carried on reading, the only sounds being that of the pages and the soft breaths from her sleepy boyfriend on top of her.

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri x oc #formula 1 #formula one #f1 fic #xeph writes about f1 #formula 1 fic #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #op81

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moviecritc · 7 months ago

Text

easiest conversation ⋆ carlos sainz

pairing: carlos sainz x fem!oc (named Angelique)

tropes: strangers to lovers

summary: carlos and angelique sat next to each other in a tennis match in monaco, leading to an endless conversation.

a/n: english is not my first language, sorry for the mistakes and poor storytelling. maybe a part 2 if you like it?

masterlist

Everybody was focused on Carlos' future in Formula 1, he tried so hard to not be worried about it, but every thing he does, the media somehow made it about his career as a driver. So, at the end, he couldn't do anything except being worried too. Many what ifs were in his mind anytime he thought about it.

The past weekend wete the Masters of Montecarlo, a tennis match, and taking advantage of the fact that he was in the city and most of he's teammates were also watching it, he attended as well.

Carlos didn't have the opportunity to talk to any of them, they were seated in different places in the public. Either way, seeing George, Charles and even Lando with their partners made him feel a little bit more miserable than he already felt. No seat and no girlfriend, that's not a very cool situation to be involved.

And there's even more, he doesn't even know a shit about tennis. He played paddel a few times with Lando, but tennis? He had no idea. So he just sat there, gasping when other people gasp and checking his phone once in a while.

"You seem lost," someone said.

Carlos lifts his head that exact moment, connecting looks with a light brunette that was looking at him above her sunglasses.

"Are you talking to me?" he asked, totally confused. Since when that woman was sitting by his side?.

"Yes. You look bored, maybe you just need someone to explain tennis in a cool way," she smiled. A beautiful smile.

Carlos also smiled a bit, in a weird way. Sometimes he forgots that there's people who can effortlesly talk to strangers in a cool and mysterious way. This woman was one of them.

"Yeah, sure. If you can,"

"If I can?" she seemed dramaticly offended. "You don't think a woman can explain tennis to you, man?"

"Oh, no, no, no. I didn't mean it in that way," he said quickly. "Please, go ahead."

She smiled and started explaining all about tennis in the most interesting and funny way possible.

"How do you know so much about tennis?" he asked.

"Well, I'm a tennis player," she explain. "I thought it was obvious."

Carlos noded a bit, noticing a few mobile phones and cameras pointing at them. He didn't realised it until now, and now he was wondering how many pictures and videos of him and that woman would be around the media.

"Uh, well... I mean, I have no idea about tennis," he said, nervously.

"Yeah, I could tell that," she laughed and she infected Carlos with the laughter. "I'm Angelique, by the way."

"Beautiful name. I'm Carlos," they shaked hands with smiles in their faces. He saw some redness on Angelique face after he complimented her. "So you are a tennis player?"

"Yeah." she simply answered.

"Are you good?" Carlos didn't want the conversation to die.

"I try to be," she said. "I'm fifth in the Women's Tennis Association, I don't know if that's enough for you."

Angelique pursed her lips, making a funny face that made Carlos smiled.

"That sounds really good," he said, truly impressed. They were both athletes, maybe that's why it feels so easy to talk to her.

"What about you?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"I'm a race driver,"

Angelique raised even more her eyebrows and wide-opened her eyes "Ok, that is so fucking cool!" she remarked. "Which team do you drive for?"

"Ferrari, but..."

"No way! That's even cooler!" she boasted. "I mean, I have no idea about Formula 1. But Ferrari? That is cool guy material, undoubtedly"

Carlos was too invested in Angelique's voice and eyebrow game that wasn't able to tell her that he isn't staying in Ferrari for too long. But they've just met, and being unemployed isn't something to say to someone right off the bat.

He realised that it was the first conversation in a while that he didn't have to mention anything about his future in Formula 1, another reason of him being this comfortable around Angelique.

"And, how did you became a tennis player?" Carlos asked, leaning a little bit to her.

Now, she was focusing on the ball and the movements of the players.

"My brother used to use me as a ball picker when he played tennis, then he broke his arm and I kept his racket," she explained without divert her eyes from the field.

"He stopped playing tennis after that?"

"Well, yes. When he could come back, he was too old and unexperience to achieve something," she said. "But he wasn't very good anyways."

They both laughed and Angelique take off her sunglasses so she could see Carlos better.

"Have you won something in tennis?" he curiously asked.

"Yeah, of course. Matchs and all those things,"

"Have you beaten Serena Williams?" he wondered, with a smirk.

"Not yet," she admited. "But I've won against people who beat Serena."

She smiled proudly. The match was about to end, and none of them were paying attention to it.

"Okey, that's pretty awesome," he said.

She crossed her legs and accomodated her long brown hair to one side, which left Carlos eyeing her in a romantic way.

"And you? How someone decides that he wants to drive really fast cars?"

"My father has been involved in motorsports for a long time,"

"It's always a family thing, don't you think?" she said. "It is hard to find someone who started in sports by themselves."

"It is!" Carlos agreed with her.

He was going to say something else, but they announce the end of the match, everybody standed up to give an applause. Both of them copied the rest of the people.

"Wait, who won?" Carlos asked, totally confused.

Angelique lean into him, whispering "I've no idea,"

They laughed and kept applausing. That was the end of the match and the end of their conversation. Angelique's agent rapidly came to her to take some pictures with the winner.

"Wait, wait," she insisted to her agent and then walked close to Carlos. "It was lovely talking to you, Carlos,"

"Same, Angelique. You seem an interesting person," he complimented. Carlos was willing to ask her for her number, or something.

"Are you coming to the finals tomorrow?" she asked, praying for a yes.

"I don't think so... I have a race soon in China,"

"Oh," she seemed disappointed. "Well, good luck for your race and..."

"Can I asked you for your number?" he said unexpectedly.

"Yes!" she realised that maybe she was too effusive, so she lower her tone. "I mean, yeah, sure. If you want."

Carlos laughed and Angelique did it too, in a more ashamed way. He gave her his phone so she could write her number.

"There you go," she said and her agent was already near her to leave the match. "Text me!"

Carlos laughed and waved at her, when he looked at his phone, he could do anything but laughed again. Angelique saved her as "That cute girl from the tennis match".

He wondered what was about that girl that made her so unique and easy to talk to her. Carlos didn't think about it very much, instead, he texted her right after she left the field.

#carlos sainz #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula 1 #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz x oc #carlos sainz one shot #carlos sainz imagine #formula 1 one shot #cs55 #cs55 x reader #cs55 fic #cs55 fluff #f1 fluff #f1 x you #noraverse 🫧

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miley1442111 · 5 months ago

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HEYY I WAS THE ONE WHO ASKED FOR THAT FIC WHERE RAFE HAD TO CHOOSE IT WAS PERFECTTTT SO MUCH MORE PERFECT THAN I WAS EXPECTING!!! THANK YOU SO MUUUUUUUCHHHH YOU SAVED MY LIKEEEE!!!!!

So... Since you saved and now im already in dept with you can I ask for another one??? Pleaseee!! If you dont like Its ok just ignore and If you feel uncomfortable IM SORRYYY.

It would be something like, Rafe gets into a fight as always and then the reader, his friend tries to break the fight and then the other person fighting Rafe says something like "YEAH LISTEN TO YOUR GIRLFRIEND/BOYFRIEND/THEYFRIEND" and like every single person on the vicinity goes dead silent because everyone know you guys like each other but didnt realized yet and EVERYONE is scared of Rafe and also both of you have a partner, whos RIGHT there and will for now on live with the knowledge that: Since Rafe and Reader met, every other relationship they would have would be the runner-up.

Maybe Rafe and Reader trying to prove everyones wrong by sticking to the partners but its undeniable how the two are good for each other, how the always serious and scary Rafe looks like a normal funny happy guy when hanging out with the Reader who also goes from a quiet apathetic person ta burning sun.

Sorry this os too long 😭😭😭😭😭

Also i typed that listening to Entombed by Deftones

Byeee love youuuuuu

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

waiting game- r.cameron

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

a/n: welcome back light of my life anon. ur too cool i knew u listened to deftones bc only cool people can. thank you for requesting :)

pairing: rafe cameron x fem! reader, male oc x fem! reader, rafe cameron x female oc

summary: i suggest you look at the ask

warnings: kissing, toxic relationship, rafe is a bit of a fucking prick to Ava and reader, rafe is confused and a dick, cursing, underage drinking, drinking, suggestive mentions, reader is going through it, rafe is a crybaby, violence, creepy guy (I think that's it?)

not entirely proofread

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

Rafe watched as you crossed the busy dance floor, two drinks in hand. Usually, one of those would be his, he was your best friend after all. But in recent weeks, you’d been becoming friendly with a pogue named ‘Elijah’. He hated him, seriously, he did. He was a piece of shit in Rafe's eyes, and somehow that made you like him more.

You and Rafe had been friends since you were little kids, and you’d always brought out the best in each other. When Rafe was around you, he wasn’t a lunatic with raging anger issues and a god complex, around him, you weren’t the shy, quiet girl everyone knew you to be. It worked well, and you promised each other that you’d never bullshit each other. That meant; he’d never lie to you, and that you’d always tell it to him straight. It worked, and it worked well.

So well in fact, that people usually assumed you were dating.

Years and years of being told by your respective friends and family that you two should ‘just date and put the entire island out of its misery made the idea even less appealing, at least to you. You always wanted to do the opposite of what you were told, and that meant never even thinking of Rafe in a romantic sense. Obviously, Rafe never thought of you like that either. He didn’t think about how sweet your lips would taste, how well you two fit together, how you brought out the best in him, or how much he loved you being around. He’d never think about how good calling you ‘his girlfriend’ was when he had to fend off assholes at the bar. He’d never even mention how good it felt to know he was your first kiss, and how you were his (courtesy of you two being very drunk 15 year olds).

He never thought about any of that. That would be weird, right?

So he stood, his new girlfriend, Ava, hanging off of his arm as he watched you sit in Elijah’s lap.

“Rafey,” she whined and he winced. He hated that name. “I’m so drunk!”

She’d had a beer and two vodka lemonade’s he’d made with about one shot of vodka between the two, she wasn’t drunk. Ava was the perfect kook princess, and she was driving him crazy, but Midsummers was in three months, and his dad told him he needed someone respectable. That’s what he’d told you when he asked for candidates, though he must’ve failed to mention the way his dad asked him to bring you.

“Ava, go sit down then,” Rafe shrugged her off of him. “I have to go talk to someone, ok?”

“You’re seriously leaving me here alone?” Her face formed a frown, but Rafe couldn’t find it in himself to give a fuck.

“Yes,” he answered before walking off to find you.

The last couple of months had been very freeing for you. You’d finally gotten over the crush you’d had on Rafe for years, and you were finally out having fun and really dating for the first time. You had your friends, and Rafe finally stopped scolding you like an old man every time you went out with the pogues, you made friends with more people from the mainland since you’d started to go to college there, and Rafe had a girlfriend, so he wasn’t constantly with you, making your crush come back. It felt good. Elijah was hot, and all you really wanted was to fuck someone, and he’d do just fine. Dark curly hair, big brown eyes, and if the semi he was sporting underneath you now was any indication, he was do just fine in the ‘fucking’ department.

“So what are you studying?” he asked, taking another sip. The mixture of drink and smoke in the air made your head spin in the best way.

“Journalism and English lit,” you answered, pressing your hand against his chest. “You?”

“Maths,” he answered and you laughed.

“That’s unexpected,” you chuckled. He looked like he was a surfer boy, not a maths major. His dirt tank top, worn-in swim shorts, and salty skin. He was hot. He laughed with you as his hands travelled lower, grabbing your ass, and you didn’t even mind.

“I know, right?” He smirked.

“So why did you pick maths?”

“I’m good at it,” he shrugged. “And I got a scholarship.”

You nodded. “So can you do like, any maths question?” You knew it was low-hanging fruit in terms of flirting, but you really weren’t in the mood for trying very hard. It was late and you were pretty drunk.

He nodded nipping at your lips with his own. Your conversation was long forgotten as your finger ran through his hair and he groaned into your mouth. He was a good kisser, despite his wandering hands, which were either on your ass or tits, but again, you didn’t mind.

He pulled away with glazed, lust-filled eyes. “You wanna get out of here?”

You nodded, then pulled him back in to kiss you.

“Y/n!” Jj’s voice rang out in your ear, and he started to tap you hard on the shoulder. “Eli!”

You pulled away, annoyed. “What?”

“Rafe is beating the shit out of one of Eli’s friends, can you talk him down please?”

“What?” Eli asked. “Who?”

“Josh,” Jj answered. “Let’s go Y/n, before Rafe kills someone ideally!” Jj said it in a sing-song voice to mask the truth in his words. Rafe had come very close to seriously hurting people before, and every year he was just getting stronger (thanks to his gym addiction and never-ending rage).

You reluctantly got off of Eli’s lap and ran behind Jj as he led you to the scene.

Rafe was beating the shit out of Eli’s best friend, Josh and he was not looking good. He was trying to fight back, but you could tell he was close to tapping out, though you also knew that Rafe didn’t do ‘tap-outs’.

“Rafe!” You shouted as the circle of people silenced. “Stop being a fucking idiot, get off of him!” you grabbed one of his arms, angry now. Your nights were always getting ruined by Rafe, especially recently. He had no right to pull shit like this, it wasn’t fair that you always had to clean up his messes.

“Yeah exactly, listen to your girlfriend!” Josh spat.

The circle of people watching went dead silent, and phones stopped recording. Both you and Rafe froze. Josh dropped to the floor, and Eli walked him off without sparing you a glance. The moment was frozen, and you were stuck in place, staring at Rafe's eyes.

Rafe could always tell how you were feeling but he couldn't now.

And it scared the shit out of him.

After another moment of confusion and being frozen, you looked after Eli, and tried to walk after him, but Rafe grabbed your arm.

“Can we talk ab-”

“No! You fucking asshole! Did you really need to ruin tonight for me? Seriously? Go fuck yourself Rafe!” You cursed, then turned to the crowd around you. “Rafe Cameron is not my boyfriend, nor will he ever be, the shows over folks, fuck off!”

And with that you ran off to find Eli and Josh.

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

Rafe was searching the party for you. You weren’t where Eli had been before, and he wanted to talk to you, to drag you away from that piece of shit.

In all honesty, the past few months had been a very confusing time for Rafe. He’d started college (only because his dad asked him to), he’d gotten his first long-term (3 months so far) relationship, he’d gone off drugs for the most part, he’d started feeling things for you.

His best friend.

Not that he hadn’t realised it before, but you were just so… you. So gorgeous, so smart, so funny, all of you. It was proving to be an issue, so he’d stopped hanging out with you so much, at least until he could figure out what was going on. He was about 99% sure his feelings were platonic, because everyone felt this way for their best friend, right? Obviously. Totally. Maybe?

He crossed the dance floor, only to be met with the face of Josh, Eli’s friend. And he was talking about you.

“Yeah, Eli’s got the only fucking hot girl here,” He smirked. Rafe hated how he smirked. He hated how he looked. He hated everything about this man, the one he’d never even met. “I’ll ask him if he’ll share,” he laughed like a sleazy piece of shit, and so did his friends.

“Excuse me,” Rafe tried to move past them, but Josh grabbed his arm.

“Oh shit! You’re the boyfriend,” Josh chuckled and Rafe didn't correct him. “Sorry dude, she’s all mine tonight.”

And that’s when Rafe’s right hand made contact with his face.

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

Rafe stood there staring dumbly at his bloodied and bruised hands. You’d never spoken to him like that, ever. Rafe knew he could fly off the handle, and he knew it annoyed you when you had to fix everything for him, but you’d never complain. Tonight. Tonight, it finally boiled over and you shouted at him. Like he was anyone. Like he wasn’t your best friend, your Rafe.

“You ok?”

Topper’s voice cut through the ringing in his ears. Rafe’s eyes were glossy with unshed tears and it was taking a lot of willpower to not scream and try to break something, or sob and run after you.

“Fine,” he said, letters over-punctuated as he rolled his eyes, looking up to stop the tears from falling.

“Rafey!” Fucking Ava. “Did you get into another fight over me again?” She sighed, faking anger. He knew she didn’t give a fuck if he fought, she only cared about what the fight was about.

“No,” he answered, getting closer to her face, dwarfing her with his tall height. “Go away.”

She pouted. “Rafey-”

“Stop fucking calling me that,” He cursed, grabbing the wrist of her hand, which was reaching to touch his face. “Ava, go home.”

“You brought me here,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, so find another way home,” he chuckled softly, delighting in making her feel small.

Ava looked down, angry now. “You’re a piece of shit, you know that?”

Rafe just smirked. “But you’re still with me, so I must not be that bad,” he laughed in her face. “Unless it’s just your daddy issues-”

He was hit so fast he didn’t even know what had happened.

“Don’t ever talk to her like that again,” Kiara scoffed, squaring up to Rafe. “Ava, you can get a ride with me, ok?” Ava nodded and walked off with Kiara as you appeared.

Kiara’d hit him. And he’d deserved it.

Kelce and Topper cleared off, they knew this was about you.

“How’s Elijah?” He rubbed his red cheek.

“Josh is fine, thanks for asking,” your voice was cutting and precise.

“I asked about Eli,” Rafe growled, grabbing your hand.

“And I answered about Josh.”

He chuckled. “Your friends suck.”

“Your girlfriend is a bimbo.”

Rafe smiled. “And she takes dick like a champ, what more could a man want?”

Your face went from mild annoyance directly to disgust. “I’ll see you later,” you scoffed, starting to walk off.

“Wait, wait, wait!” He called after you. “I-I’m sorry, ok? I was an asshole, and I’m sorry. That was a gross thing to say, I’m drunk and I just got beaten up, can you please forgive me?” he begged.

But you were still walking away from him, and he was losing you. He followed you through the hoards of people, pleading and begging for you to forgive him as he trailed behind.

Finally, on the most secluded area of the beach you turned to him with tears streaming down your cheeks, and he felt his heart break.

“Fucking hell Rafe! Can you not just notice anyone else around you for once!? You just ruined my fucking chances with Eli, you just beat the shit out of someone, and you just treated your girlfriend like she was some fangirl, you think I was to be associated with you right now? Let alone with you right now?! Can you stop being so tunnel-visioned? Fuck’s sake!” You wiped your eyes. “I’m so sick of being your fucking babysitter, you’re older than me Rafe! Please act like an adult! Treat your girlfriend better and treat the people around you better!” You sighed. “Treat me better.”

Rafe’s heart was breaking. He never wanted to hurt you, that was the one thing he’d sworn he’d never do. You were with him through everything, through thick and fucking thin. And he was treating you like this? This was unacceptable,and he felt so guilty he wanted to throw up.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, the tears finally falling. “I’m sorry.”

You nodded, crossing your arms over. “Where?! Where are you fucking sorry Rafe? Because all I keep seeing is empty fucking promises and bullshit excuses,” You groaned. “You think I want to be the one scolding you? You think I want to have to de-escalate situations for you? No! This was my one fucking night off from work too, and you ruined it.”

“I’m sorry,” he was breathing heavily, he’d never felt so shitty.

“Rafe,” you sighed. “Please don’t say things you don’t mean.”

And with that you walked away.

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

You dialled Eli’s number and prayed that he would answer.

“Hey,” he sighed.

“I’m so sorry,” you immediately answered. “Can we still meet up?”

He sighed into the phone. “I’m not sure Y/n, you kind of seem… preoccupied with Rafe.”

Fuck. Yet another one of your relationships ruined by Rafe Cameron. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t see it?” he chuckled. “You two are perfect for each other. He’s like the most angry and uncontrollable guy I’ve ever seen, and you control him and calm him down by just breathing. And you were the most shy and quiet person I’d ever seen, but when I see you talking with Rafe, or just being around him, you’re so much more brave and extroverted. It’s seriously impressive. You two complement each other Y/n. You bring the real him out, and he brings the real you out. That’s beautiful, and i’m not going to be the person to fuck that up.”

You finally understood. Rafe loved you back. You loved Rafe. Simple. Why did you ever overcomplicate this?

“Ok, thanks Eli,” you sighed, then hung up. You were still angry with Rafe, but you needed to tell him, and you needed to go now.

When you turned around, you ran straight into someone, Rafe.

“I couldn’t just let you walk away, you were crying and-”

“I’m super pissed with you, obviously,” you interrupted. “But I love you, like, love you. And I have for a long time.”

Rafe’s jaw dropped. That’s all he had wanted to hear his whole life, and he only wanted to hear it form your perfect lips.

“I-I-I-” he took a deep breath. “I love you too.”

He went in for a kiss but you pushed him back. “I’m still pissed, and you still have a girlfriend.”

He nodded, agreeing. “Right.”

You pressed your lips to his cheek. He smiled. There was a moment of silence.

“Tanneyhill?” he offered. You agreed, and you walked there hand in hand.

While you weren’t together yet, you would be.

And that was enough for the both of you.

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

obx masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

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stars-and-the-min · 6 months ago

Text

☆ the wrong way to hard launch (15) | OP81

summary : oscar's girlfriend is a walking pr problem for literally everyone (including herself) social media au

pairing : oscar piastri x zhou!fem!singer!oc

a/n tantalisingly close yet still a bit too far (first oscar podium of the season!!!) also btw this is gonna be my last post for a little bit, i'm in my exam season, i just wanted to let you guys know!

masterlist | last part | part 15 | next part

YOUTUBE

comments

omg proof of life

3:28 the subtle comedy of her being so close to the f1 world while being scared of going fast 😭

we need more interviews of her! she's an absolute delight to listen to

don't be shy, release the uncut version

choosing your bf over your literal blood-related cousin is lowkey wild ↳ i mean if you think about it like this: would you rather be driven at high speeds by your cousin who would mess with you or your boyfriend who worships the ground you walk on?

MESSAGES

from the phone of oscar piastri

INSTAGRAM

selinabui 🎵 Florence + The Machine · Cosmic Love | Florence, Italy

liked by oscarpiastri and 492,384 others

selinabui i took the stars from my eyes and then i made a map tagged: cameliazzz

oliviarodrigo obsessed with you 💜 ↳ selinabui @.oliviarodrigo liv, baby, we did not plan these tours well, were we aiming for missing each other by two days?

28kaslina24 the florence and the machine lyric caption >>>> WELCOME BACK QUEEN!!!

oscarpiastri Who'd you have dinner with looking that pretty? ↳ selinabui @.oscarpiastri just this f1 driver, i think he drives for mclaren ↳ landonorris @.selinabui yeah i had a blast at dinner 👍

tina_kim not 100% sold that this is actually her posting... why are they playing mind games with us ↳ pastry81 @tina_kim oscar commented so i remain cautiously optimistic

MESSAGES

from the phone of selina bui

TWITTER

piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 2h oscar piastri trending on twitter for two reasons: getting adopted by charles leclerc and that video of him very unsubtly checking out his girlfriend ↳ piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 2h i felt like i was intruding but also he was very very attractive in a way that is concerning

jackpot ☆ @slayridgo · 3h lina's reply to olivia's comment made me realise that taylor, olivia and empty bottles are just... bouncing around europe at the same time and that thought was so funny i just had to share it ↳ jackpot ☆ @slayridgo · 3h i have all three tour calendars open and they're narrowly missing each other by like a couple days- selivia are both in the same venue in paris in the SAME WEEK but EB is performing june 10-12 and olivia is june 14-15 but by june 15, EB are in amsterdam all while taylor is in the UK and after taylor's UK leg finishes, she's going to amsterdam which is the same time EB's UK round begins and while olivia's on break ↳ kayla @luna_apocolypse · 49m the music girlies are having a blast

june @linafesting · 2h wait not me just realising that EB's break almost perfectly coincides with the F1 summer break... ↳ june @linafesting · 2h where's that reddit theory that EB planned the tour around the F1 calendar, how long does it take to plan a tour???

INSTAGRAM

oscarpiastri Circuit de Monaco

liked by charles_leclerc and 277,486 others

oscarpiastri Feeling the Monégasque love this weekend 💛 tagged: mclaren, charles_leclerc, sennabrazil and institutoayrtonsenna

ninisf1diary Oscar Piastri-Leclerc 😭😭😭

piastri_lina pls don't fall victim to the monaco curse pls pls pls

TWITTER

opal @pxastrixxx · 7h SHE isn't even attending the monaco gp like figures... ↳ 🕯️manifesting EB3 🕯️@.linabelles · 4h fyi she can't go bc she's performing two sold-out shows milan on race weekend, you would know this if you used your brain

Kas 🎸 @EB_KAS · 3h got put in time out bc i laughed at lina when she walked into a doorframe, someone avenge me ↳ Lando Norris @.LandoNorris · 2h Did she happen to be on the phone with my teammate? ↳ Kas 🎸 @EB_KAS · 14m embarrassingly, yes

president linami @.linaminami · 7m i'm like crying wdym lina was so distracted on the phone with oscar she WALKED INTO A DOORFRAME ↳ president linami @.linaminami · 6m GIRLIE THIS IS SLIGHTLY PATHETIC GET OFF THE GROUND 😭

kayla @luna_apocolypse · 1h somewhere in milan selina bui is screaming bc jenson button is commentating the monaco grand prix ↳ pookie piastri @op81ln4 · 1h context??? ↳ kayla @luna_apocolypse · 47m omg sorry i forget that a lot more f1 fans follow me now 😭 lina had a massive childhood crush on jenson button, there's a photo of her like two inches from the tv staring at him

jess @OPIXSTRI · 21m why do lina and i have the same taste in men :) surely there has to be a jenson button to oscar piastri pipeline out there

INSTAGRAM

selinabui

liked by lukaszhang and 332,185 others

selinabui but it's the monaco grand prix! i never miss the grand prix!

emptybottlesbar All tuned in right before Milan Night 1 🙈

oscarpiastri How's your head? ↳ selinabui @.oscarpiastri i think u know from experience :) ↳ cameliazzz @.selinabui there are CHILDREN on this app

moonbeamlina got catfished by the selfie bc why was the rest just f1

TWITTER

TMD Tour News @EB-TMDTour · 2h A fan close to the stage interrupts the welcome speech to tell the band about the results of Formula 1 qualifying. I realise how crazy this sounds as I'm typing it up, but I'm being dead serious; congrats to Oscar for a P2 position! #TMDWorldTour ↳ lukas 🔛🔝 @lukiepookie28 · 2h i'm dying they just paused the show for the results, we're only one song into the show, lina's barely gotten thru introductions and then you just hear: "OSCAR P2!" like DAMN way to get her attention

EB Updates @emptybottles_news · 2h Fan: Oscar qualified P2! Lina: Huh? I heard Oscar, what's happening? Oh my god, is qualifying over, how'd it end up? Fan: Piastri P2! Leclerc on pole! Zhou P20! Lina: Oscar P2? *pause* There isn't anything being investigated is there? ↳ piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 2h "there isn't anything being investigated is there" LMAO SHE'S TRAUMATISED FROM IMOLA 😭😭😭 ↳ kay ♡ @ blackcatluna · 1h zhou p20 hurt a little actually, she was so unfazed ↳ jules 🌿 @juliiaapxp · 53m i mean she clearly watched the practice sessions, she knows that the saubers have been dreadful this weekend, she probably expected that result

lina bui x2 grammy winner @urdaisea · 12m why was she so darn hot tonight... is this that famed oscar piastri effect?

president linami @ linaminami · 1h i need her biblically ngl why did that smirk make me blush so hard tonight, i've watched basically every show on these grainy ass live streams but tonight's one got me kicking my legs in the middle of the night

EB Bar @theemptybottlesbar · 23m hey... hey... how y'all doing? ↳ oscalina real ?! @emptyginbottles · 18m i've been tense since fp3 and now i'm being seduced by selina bui so i'm probably not doing very well mentally ↳ kay ♡ @ blackcatluna · 1h with all the love in my heart, tell them to stop being so hot

piaa⁸¹ @.papayaeightyone · 21m oscar is gonna open up this app with hundreds of thousands of EB fans down so bad for his girlfriend and he's gonna get it

INSTAGRAM

lukaszhang Milan, Italy

liked by liam_zhang and 300,496 others

lukaszhang post-show shenanigans tagged: eb_jonno, aidan_ebass, selinabui and cameliazzz

aidan_ebass some of us, i don't wanna name names, are becoming alcohol-dependent ↳ selinabui @aidan_ebass i'm not playing with u, it's jonny ↳ eb_jonno @.selinabui i can't be offended by something that i wholeheartedly agree with

cameliazzz for the record, i don't recall any of this

emptybottlesbar you can be drunk but never camilina ijbol drunk ↳ selinabui @emptybottlesbar you were born in the year 1993, this is embarrassing for everyone ↳ linasgirl4 @.selinabui SHE'S BACK TERRORISING HER MANAGEMENT ACCOUNTS I'VE NEVER BEEN HAPPIER

TWITTER

pookie piastri @op81ln4 · 2h thoughts and prayers to lina bui bc she decided to have a concert in the middle of the monaco gp where her boyfriend starts from the front row ↳ emme @flowersforcami · 1h technically... the show starts at 5pm and the grand prix should end by like 4:45pm... she could very much so watch it ↳ camilina gfs fr @ drummergf · 1h unfortunately i think they run a soundcheck plus hair and makeup in the lead-up to the show, that's also the reason why she couldn't watch quali! it all takes a bit and cami has said that they eat lunch then start preparing for the show then have a quick dinner then often grab supper after the show ends

Formula 1 @.F1 · 5m 🔴 RED FLAG 🔴 Sainz runs off in Casino Square and there are three cars behind which have made contact #F1 #MonacoGP ↳ emme @flowersforcami · 2m lmao yeah no lina aint watching shit...

MESSAGES

from the phone of selina bui

TWITTER

TMD Tour News @EB-TMDTour · 1h Lina addresses Oscar Piastri's podium finish at the Monaco Grand Prix! "Guys, I know, you don't have to yell it up to me today, he texted me backstage during intermission." #TMDWorldTour ↳ lukas 🔛🔝 @lukiepookie28 · 1h LMAO I WAS LITERALLY WONDERING WHY INTERMISSION FELT SO LONG TONIGHT

opal @pxastrixxx · 1h oscar got his first podium of the season and does she even care? ↳ opal @pxastrixxx · 1h the whole race when it was cutting to the ferrari wags and absolutely nothing from the papaya garage... the silence was loud ngl ↳ piaa⁸¹ @papayaeightyone · 28m can you stop bringing her up if you clearly don't like her? she's in the middle of a world tour, she physically couldn't attend bc she's performing to 17000 people in milan, and fyi, she did care, she congratulated him in private, not everything about their relationship is a spectacle, get a fucking life :)

liv is SEEING EB LIVE!! @olivielina · 17m her comedic timing 😭 she's baiting us all, i swear... she started the encore with the most melodramatic sigh and the sweetest voice with the acoustic guitar, and then she pulled the rug out from under us all ↳ liv is SEEING EB LIVE!! @olivielina · 15m she said: oscar, if you're still watching... *a couple seconds of guitar strumming with an angelic smile, you think she's about to give the most lovely speech of how proud she is of him* stop 🥰 NOW IF I WERE OSCAR PIASTRI--

↳ kayla @luna_apocolypse · 2m he's so goofy sometimes it's so endearing like no wonder she's so down bad

emptybottles_official Italy

liked by emptybottlesbar and 310,182 others

emptybottles_official Florence and Milan, you guys were absolute DREAMS! This past week in Italy has been nothing short of magical, and we hope we lived up to the love you've shown us since our debut. These shows have been a long time coming for you guys! 🔜 Zürich, Switzerland 🇨🇭

emptybottlesbar ABSOLUTELY PHENOMENAL NIGHTS!!!

marie_h.sb the milan shows were a new kinda crazy

tina_kim italy has always loved them so much, my heart🥺

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

taglist @ririyulife @ashy-kit @fionaschicken @namgification @cherry-piee @urfavsgf @eiaaasamantha @sp1rl @destinyg237 @iloveyou3000morgan

#f1 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x oc #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri smau #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 smau #f1 fic #f1 smau #f1 imagine #f1 social media au

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oliviablancmom · 7 months ago

Text

"Pedriiii - Part III"

Pairing: Pedri Gonzalez x singlemom!OC

Themes: Fluff, Angst.

N/A: So, it's finally here!!! I'm sorry for the delay, but it was hard to write this chapter, either because I piled up my work, or because the characters took a while to talk to me, now they can't stay quiet. I know I said this would be the last chapter, but I can't do math, so this is probably the penultimate one and the next one will be the last (or not, idk). Anyway, enough talking because you guys waited a long time for this. Enjoy!!!!

Pedri was a patient person, his profession demanded it. During the 90 minutes or more that he touched the ball on the field and created plays in anticipation of goals, he knew he needed patience to reach the right moment to achieve his objective. He knew patience because of his injuries and the recovery time he had to deal with, as well as the hurtful comments that cast doubt on his talent, effort, and dedication. Patience sometimes eluded him during a game when a referee made a wrong call or overlooked something on the field. Patience sometimes eluded him when the boys teased him during training.

But lately patience eluded him when it came to her... Isabella Harver was driving him crazy, and that, at the moment, was beyond his clear attraction to the woman since the first time he saw her. It had more to do with the fact that she had been ignoring him since the last night they spent together, where everything ended chaotically, with no explanation from her. And that was bothering him, not the lack of explanation itself. Pedri could deduce how complicated the situation was from what he witnessed, but not knowing how Axel was, how they both were, hurt him more than he expected. Pedri wanted to understand what was happening, wanted to help in some way, and wanted to understand how someone could leave a child like Axel in that way. The player himself didn't understand his obsession with the incident; he didn't have the right to explanations. But something inside him tightened every time he remembered the child's anguished cry and Isa's frightened look.

"You know, if it were me receiving the news that I could play again, I'd be more excited than this," Gavi pointed at Pedri. "Is Isa still keeping you in the dark?" Pedri looked annoyed at Gavi. " What? You're pretty obvious about your feelings towards her. Your luck is that you don't run into her much around here," Gavi shrugged, and Pedri threw a towel at his face. "Your reaction just proves my point..."

"There's no feelings, it's just..." Pedri couldn't finish his sentence as he was interrupted by Gavi bursting into laughter, causing Pedri to roll his eyes.

"Dude, you've been drooling over her since the first time you saw her. I'm your best friend, you can admit it to me," Gavi said after calming down.

"It's complicated," Pedri says after a few seconds of silence.

"I think you guys are making it more complicated than it is," Gavi concluded patting Pedri's shoulder and letting him alone with his thoughts. Pedri thought Gavi was right, but he also had a point. It was true, that the woman had a strange magnetism that attracted him, but there was everything else that made their relationship complicated that he couldn't simply ignore.

**********************************************

Isa was sitting at her father's kitchen table, watching Axel bake a cake with Gianna, or rather, his "Gigi" as the little boy called the older woman, his grandfather's girlfriend, who despite loving the child, joked that she was too young to be called a grandmother, yet. Isa loved the affection she had for Axel, and was grateful for her presence in her father's life, and theirs too, after all, who else would teach Axel to cook considering Isa was a disaster in the kitchen?

"Can we add M&Ms? My friend Pedri loves them, so I can bring him some cake tomorrow," Axel suggested eagerly.

"Of course we can, it's your cake," the older woman said, kissing the child's head as he celebrated excitedly.

He didn't even seem like the scared child from two nights ago when she picked him up from his paternal grandparents' house. Just remembering the state he was in made Isa feel sick to her stomach. The situation had gone too far, and she wouldn't allow it to happen again.

"Axel talks a lot about Pedri," Isa looked at her father, who had approached quietly, and as she faced him, she just knew he wanted to ask something, but he would never do it directly.

"He befriended with some players." She shrugged backing her attention to her son.

"He also told me he was the one who brought you guys home that night," the man continued in his not-so-subtle attempt to extract something from his daughter.

"Yes, we were at a barça event, and I needed a ride, and he was the only sober one..." The man smiled gently at his daughter; he knew her better than anyone and knew her ways of avoiding a subject.

"When are you and Axel going back to your house?" He asked.

"Are you kicking us out? Don't you love us anymore?" Isa pouted dramatically, earning an eye roll from the older man.

"I adore having you around... Especially when it's by choice and not because you're running away from someone, even though, I don't know from who you are hiding," Isa turned to the man, confused.

"You can't let that man and his family continue to torment you and Axel, Isabella. You shouldn't even be trying to get close to those people."

"Those people, are Axel's family too."

"They don't care about him, and you know it. They only care about making your life a hell"

Isa didn't answer, not knowing exactly how she should respond even though she knew her father was right, she tried to have a good relationship with them because of Axel, but since that night some days ago, she was willing to give up on that, her child didn't deserve all that stress.

"He's going to invite him to his birthday," Isa looked confused at her father. "Pedri!" He exclaims. "I'm just informing you that I won't tolerate any trouble in my house, if this is going to cause trouble, it's better to tell Henry and his family not to come." Isa looked surprised at the man, as if she had been caught doing something, the older man's eyes indicated that he knew something, and that made the woman feel a strange feeling.

"There won't be an trouble, why would be?" She asked nervously as she got up.

"My beloved and favorite daughter..." The ironic smile on her father's face made Isa roll her eyes.

"It would be strange if I weren't, been your only one" she responded mimicking his tone.

"I know you think you're subtle, but you have the most emotive and transparent eyes there are," he said, kissing Isa's head, who didn't respond.

Her father's remark left a bitter taste and a strange sensation in her core. Isa was aware of her not-so-small attraction to the player, but it was just that, attraction. She couldn't develop feelings, let alone be expressive about them. She sighed in frustration as she drove to the training center, just hoping not to encounter the player.

**********************************************

"Hey, guys," Ferran says as he enters the physiotherapy room. "Look, Pedri. Who I bumped into on my way here," Pedri lifted his eyes from his phone towards his friend. "Mini you."

"Pedriiii" Axel said, running into the physiotherapy room, but stopped and walked slowly to the bed where Pedri was lying.

"Hey buddy, I didn't see you these days," Pedri said to the little boy, who leaned against the bed, resting his head and attentively watching every move of the physiotherapist. "Are you okay?"

"Mom is looking for schools for me," he said rolling his little eyes, eliciting laughter from the players.

"I feel you, buddy," Ferran said, running his hand through Axel's hair. "Can I do it too?" Axel asked after a few minutes of silence while watching the physiotherapist tape the small electrical wrist electrodes onto Pedri's leg to start the treatment. The physiotherapist looked at Pedri as if asking for permission, and the player felt his chest warm at the thought of being responsible for the little boy.

"Won't it be too strong for him?" Pedri asked, concerned. The man smiled at him, shaking his head.

"I'll set it to a low frequency. It'll feel like tickles." Pedri then looked at Axel, who was looking at him expectantly, waiting for the player's response.

"Alright, let's do it, buddy," Pedri laughed as the little boy jumped excitedly. The doctor picked him up and placed him on the bed next to Pedri.

"If only all my players were this excited about physiotherapy sessions," the older man said with a sigh, making Pedri laugh.

"I'm quite cooperative."

"I won't comment, so as not to embarrass you in front of the child."

"I'm not worse than Gavi," Pedri said offended.

"You're impatient, and Gavi is... Well, Gavi," Pedri chuckled. "Come on, little buddy, I'm going to turn it on, let me know if it hurts."

Axel nodded, reaching out his hand for Pedri to hold, and the player promptly held. Axel closed one of his eyes in expectation, but as soon as it started he let out a laugh.

"Aw, it tickles," Axel laughed with wide eyes looking at the player.

"Oh, I wish mine was just a tickle..." Ferran sighed as he lay down on the examination table. Pedri nodded in agreement and then turned his attention to Axel, who seemed frustrated.

"Is everything okay, buddy?" The little boy looked at Pedri and made a face.

"This is boring, can I take it off?" Pedri chuckled at the child's impatience. In the short time he had known Axel, he knew Axel was too energetic and talkative for a physiotherapy session.

"Of course, let me help you." Pedri leaned over to remove the equipment from Axel's leg. Once he finished, the little boy jumped off the table excitedly and began walking around the room, examining every detail.

Pedri and Ferran laughed as they watched him carefully follow the physiotherapist, curious about the man's work. Then Axel grabbed a band and went over to Pedri, mimicking the therapist's movements.

"You've lost your job, Mattia," the older man chuckled as he watched the scene unfold.

After exploring everything in the room and asking about each piece of equipment, Axel grew tired and went to sit on the same examination table as Pedri, his little legs on the player's lap. He casually recounted to Pedri about the schools he had visited with his mother. The little boy didn't seem as scared as when Isa had found him that night, but he also wasn't the same boy the player had gotten used to, which intrigued and worried Pedri.

Before he could continue the conversation with the boy, the scent of the perfume that had been etched in his mind hit him, and immediately his eyes darted to the door. And there she was, three days since he last saw the woman, and she looked even more beautiful. Realizing where his thoughts were, he shook his head. He was angry at her; she had put him in various kinds of situations and simply disappeared, leaving him in the dark, confused, and distressed with a whirlwind of emotions.

"Axel... What did I say about you wandering around?" Axel jumped in surprise at the woman's voice. The reaction made Pedri laugh.

"Hi, Mommy... But it was just a little bit, just to get here, then I sat down, right Pedri?" Axel said in a sweet voice, clearly attempting to deceive his mother, and Pedri had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the boy's excuse. "Right, Pedri?" He repeated, poking Pedri.

"Oh sure, he sat the whole time," Pedri said, looking at Isa, and noticed she was also holding back laughter.

"Oh, great. You found someone else to cover for you besides your grandpa. You can't be friends if you're going to be against me," she said, crossing her arms. Axel shrugged with a mischievous smile. "We need to go home, baby," she said, and Axel's smile faded. He stood up and moved behind the player, hugging his neck.

"No, I want to stay here," he said in a whiny voice. Pedri looked at Isa as if seeking answers. The woman sighed and sat on the examination table next to the player, her mere proximity already causing sensations in Pedri.

"Axel, sweetheart. You need to let Pedri get back to his physiotherapy; you don't want him to get back to playing?" She said softly.

"He can stay, I don't mind," Pedri said quietly to the woman, who simply nodded and leaned against the wall. Pedri and Isa's gazes didn't waver, both maintaining eye contact as if engaged in a silent conversation, seeking answers.

Isa looked away when the physiotherapist returned to the room, giving a brief smile to the woman.

"Five more minutes, and I'll let them go," he said to Isa, who just nodded, confused. "Your boys were very cooperative, one doing the exercises correctly, and the other helping me treat the other players." Upon hearing this, Pedri saw the woman's face turn red, her eyes widened, and then she began to cough. "Oh, dear. Are you alright? Would you like some water?" Mattia asked, approaching and patting the woman's back.

"It's the excitement of seeing her two boys," Ferran's voice, which Pedri thought had been sleeping until now, startled him, and the woman's coughing increased as she looked at him with a deadly glare.

"I'll wait outside," she said, leaving the room. Pedri looked at Ferran, who had a mocking smile on his face, and grabbed a bottle and threw it at him.

"What, I'm lightening the mood; the tension between you two is palpable. I was sleeping and could still feel it." Pedri decided to ignore his friend since Axel was looking at both with curiosity.

"Hey buddy, why don't you go see your mom? I'll be there in a bit." The little boy nodded and hopped off the examination table, running out of the room just as Mattia returned to release Pedri. The player then left the room, a bit apprehensive that they might have already left, but to his surprise, both were waiting in the hallway. Isa was crouched down at Axel's height, helping him search for something in his backpack.

"You can give him his later or ask Pedri to give it to him," Pedri heard Isa say to the boy.

"Hey," Pedri said, stopping beside them. "Is everything okay?" Isa just nodded.

"Here, is an invitation to my birthday party. You're coming, right?" Axel said, handing the envelope to Pedri, eagerly awaiting his response.

"Of course, buddy," Pedri said, tousling Axel's hair, who smiled excitedly and hugged Pedri's leg.

"I'll go deliver Ferran's," the boy said, turning to his mother, waiting for her approval, and as soon as she agreed, he ran back to the physiotherapy room. Pedri turned his attention to the woman who was staring intensely at him, feeling his heart race at the intensity of her gaze.

"Do you want to come with us to have some birthday cake?" She said, breaking the silence between them, and God, the softness of her voice... If she used that tone to ask the player anything, he would gladly accept.

"Is his birthday today?" Pedri asked, concerned. The boy had mentioned his birthday, but hadn't mentioned dates.

"Tomorrow. The party will be next week because of the game this weekend, but he has a cake to sing 'Happy Birthday' at midnight, it's tradition. He'll be happy if you're there;" she said, leaning against the wall. Pedri took a step towards her, coming face to face with the woman, their faces just inches apart, and he could feel her heavy breath.

"Just him?" Pedri asked, and he saw the woman furrow her eyebrows in confusion. "Will only he like it if I'm there?" he asked eagerly, Isa swallowed, her eyes scanning the player's face. "Oh... You're so beautiful" Pedri says taking a good look at her face, he lowers his face towards hers his lips brushing against hers. Pedri thought his attraction to the woman was just a result of a night out at a club. Even though he hadn't had a single drop of alcohol in his body, the atmosphere of such places always had something extra. But whether it was now, or when he caught a brief glimpse of Isa as he saw her through the training center, he knew it was something more.

"Mom, we'll need an invitation for Mattia too..." Axel's voice emerging again in the hallway causes Pedro and Isa to abruptly pull away, and Pedro is thankful because he is inches away from forgetting where they were and doing something with the woman right there.

"We'll bring it tomorrow," Isa says, her breath heavy. "Shall we go home now? We still need to stop by Pops to get your cake."

"YESSS," Axel says excitedly, then turns his attention back to Pedro. "Do you want to come to eat my cake?" Pedri smiles at the question, not at the question itself, but at the way he asked it, with the same intonation that his mother had used earlier. Isa smiled proudly at Pedri as if she understood what he was thinking.

"Of course, buddy. I'd love to."

"YAY," Axel exclaimed excitedly, jumping onto the player so that he could lift him. Pedri smiled at the little boy, planting a kiss on the top of his head, and as he walked down the hallway, with Axel in his arms and Isa by his side, his only thought was that he could and wanted to get used to this... definitively.

********************************************

The way to her father's house, it was silent, well, at least on Isa's part, considering that Axel and Pedri were engaged in an intense conversation about Axel starting at Barça's football school. Isa had even tried to join the conversation but soon stopped trying, feeling like she was intruding on something of theirs. And if she didn't know how much her son loved her, she would start feeling jealous of what he had with the player. Speaking of him, Isa was feeling nervous about his presence, and she began to wonder where her head was when she invited him to eat Axel's birthday cake, but before she knew it, the words were already coming out of her mouth, so now she has to deal with his presence, and that makes her nervous.

When she stopped in front of her father's house, she was immensely grateful that his reaction was just that of a Barcelona fan, not that of a curious father, or it would add even more to her nervousness.

The player and her father spent about 10 minutes talking about soccer, Pedri's injury, and his return to the field. Of course, the conversation between the two eventually led to Axel casually asking his grandfather, "But pops, I thought Gavi was your favorite." The question made the man choke in embarrassment, and Pedri laughed at the situation. But Isa knew her son, and for him to be "against" his grandfather, considering how close they were, the only reason was that her child was jealous of the player.

As soon as they arrived at the apartment, Axel insisted on showing the player his room, who wasn't at all surprised to see that it was all decorated in Barcelona colors. Isa listened to their interaction from the kitchen until the player's surprised tone caught her attention, and she sneakily walked to the boy's room.

"Axel, what's this?" Pedri was facing the wall, looking at Axel's photo mural, and Isa knew exactly what had caught his attention. "Is Gavi your favorite too?" he asked indignantly.

"Nooo," the boy said laughing, and Pedri turned to him with narrowed eyes.

"You're not being convincing laughing like that," the player concluded, taking a photo with his phone, probably to send to his friend.

"Show him your shirts, honey," Isa said, appearing in the doorway, catching the attention of both. Axel ran to the closet, pulling the player with him, and Isa saw the player's surprised face; Axel had several Barcelona shirts, all with the number 8 and the player's name.

"Okay, I can forgive you now, buddy," Pedri laughs, tousling Axel's hair, as he bends down to pick something from the drawer. "Of course, there's one to ruin the fun." He shows Isa the shirt with Gavi's number, making her burst into laughter.

"It's a gift from pops, I told you Gavi is his favorite," Axel says, finding the situation amusing as well.

"Axel, sweetheart, go take a shower so we can cut your cake," Isa says to her son, who eagerly runs to the bathroom. Isa was thankful every day that he hadn't yet reached the phase where children dislike bathing.

Her attention returned to the player, who was looking at her expectantly once again. Isa wasn't sure what to do; she had never brought anyone to her apartment before, and the player made her nervous.

"Let's go to the kitchen," she said in a lower tone, and Pedri nodded, following her out of the room. Along the way, he examined the various photos scattered around the place, stopping in front of another photo wall in the living room, and analyzing each one.

And Isa took the opportunity to observe him. God, he was so handsome, she thought. Everything about him, the hair, the beard. Isa had seen many comments from the player's fans asking him to get rid of the beard, but she would protest against that.

"Earth to Isabella," Isa snapped out of her thoughts when she saw the player standing right in front of her. "What were you thinking that made you blush like that?" Pedri had a playful grin on his face, that made Isa distance herself abruptly from him.

"What were you talking about?" She asked breathlessly.

"You have a photo with Gavi too," he showed the Polaroid to Isa. "Does he spend a lot of time with you guys? I'm starting to think your whole family has a not-so-subtle crush on Gavira," Pedri tried to say nonchalantly, but his clenched jaw gave away a flash of jealousy, making Isa laugh, and then she approached the player.

"Are you jealous of Gavi?" Isa felt the player's hand on her waist pulling her closer, once again her face just inches away from his, Isa could feel her heart beating so fast she was sure the player could hear it, and that was very new for her. "I took the photo to make my dad jealous. Axel and I don't joke when we say he's his favorite. Also, he spends a few days in the office after his physiotherapy and recovery sessions. He's too impatient to just watch you guys training," Isa also suspected that this wasn't the only reason he visited her in the administrative part of the training center, but she wouldn't talk about it now.

Pedri nodded and leaned in towards the woman, Isa held her breath, and before she could feel the player's lips, her phone rang. She stepped back, and Pedri muttered a curse word. As soon as she saw who it was, all the ecstasy and calmness of the moment vanished. She hung up the call, and it didn't take long for the device to beep, indicating the arrival of messages.

"Answer the damn phone!!!"

"What are you thinking!!!! Are you out of your mind? First, you invade my parents' house and take my son, and now you're hanging out with teenagers?"

Isa felt her body go cold when Henry sent numerous photos taken by fans showing her leaving the training center with Pedri and Axel in the player's arms.

"I'm coming right now, that damn player better not be with you, or I'll do something stupid. We're still married, and the judge will know that"

Isa felt her whole life being sucked out of her; she knew Henry didn't care about Axel, it wasn't about him but about her, and the mere possibility of her being with someone else.

"Pedri, you better go," Isa said, turning to the player who was looking at her attentively.

"What happened?" He asked, concerned. He tried to approach, but Isa stepped back, feeling tears rolling down her face.

"Isa... You're just like that night, you need to tell me what's going on." He tried to get closer again, and once again Isa backed away, she saw the hurt expression on the player's face, and it hurt her own heart a little.

"This can't keep happening, you leaving me in the dark like this... Seeing you like this, seeing how Axel was that night, it's tormenting me," Pedri said impatiently.

"This is none of your business," Isa said firmly, wiping the tears from her face. Pedri opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out, he ran his hand through his beard in an irritated gesture. Isa saw her phone vibrating again, and another message from Henry appeared

"Is this why you're asking for a divorce? Oh baby, if you think I'm going to let that boy near you..."

"Go away, Pedri," Isa repeated. Pedri didn't respond, he just turned and left the apartment.

"Pedriiii" Axel's voice calling the player from the room was all it took for Isa to collapse into uncontrollable tears.

**********************************************

Pedri was relieved to be back on the team's list for a match after his injury recovery time. The medical department was still cautious about clearing him, and with the Champions League quarterfinal games coming up, he would have to endure one more match before being on the field. But just being able to be on the bench with his teammates already felt like a huge weight lifted off his shoulders. However, he couldn't ignore a certain heaviness weighing on his chest, and it was ruining his mood, with the person responsible just a few meters away from him in the tunnel leading to the field, too focused on her phone to notice anything around her.

"Dude, she's gonna melt if you keep staring at her like that," Ferran said, approaching his friend. "I thought HR was clear with you guys, and you're not being subtle at all."

Pedri rolled his eyes at the memory of what happened. After leaving the woman's apartment, his phone received a flood of notifications with tags on his photo with Isa and Axel, leading them both to explain to HR. Well, Isabella explained, claiming they were just colleagues, and that her son was a big fan and happened to run into the player in the parking lot, and that was their only interaction. Pedri was shocked at how easily the woman lied, or rather, omitted information, as she left out that a large part of their interaction occurred when they both were naked.

Pedri could feel the same irritation he felt on the day of the meeting returning at that moment, especially when he saw a man in Atlético's coaching staff approaching the woman. Pedri saw the woman's entire body language change suddenly, assuming a more defensive posture, and this intrigued him.

Pedri could hear Ferran talking beside him, but he wasn't paying attention to what he was saying exactly, his focus completely on the woman. And when the man grabbed Isa's arm forcefully, pulling her towards him with his finger in her face, Pedri saw red, his legs moving before he could think to do so. He heard Ferran calling him, but his voice was already distant, Pedri pushed the man hard, getting him off Isa.

"Look, one of your kids is here," the man said in an ironic tone, and that was enough for Pedri to punch him in the face, and soon they were grappling with each other. And that was enough for a general commotion to start in the tunnel, players pushing players, coaching staff from both teams trying to break up the fight. Pedri felt a hand on his arm, squeezing it tightly, pulling him away from the crowd.

"You can't do this!" The woman's voice brought him back from his trance suddenly, he was alert to everything around him again, notice that he was in another room, he looked at Isa, who had a furious look on her face.

"Are you okay?" Pedri asked, approaching the woman, holding her face between his hands, Isa looked at him confused.

"If I'm okay?" She asked incredulously, Pedri lowered his eyes to the woman's arm, which bore the marks of the man's grip, and again he felt anger consuming him. "Do you have any idea what you've done? The trouble you've caused me, that you've caused both of us?" She asked, getting agitated.

"I was defending you!" Pedri shouted back.

"I didn't ask for that, I didn't ask for your help!" Pedri raised his arms mockingly.

"Can you stop with this nonsense? You can't sleep with me, tell me 'it's not like that,' use your sweet tone of voice with me, claim my skin and thoughts, and then say it's none of my business." Isa opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything, the door swung open abruptly, instinctively Pedri pulled Isa behind him.

"What the hell was that? Have you gone crazy?" Pedri relaxed when he saw it was just Xavi, a very angry Xavi, and he knew he had messed up. The coach looked at Pedri's hand holding Isa's wrist. "Don't tell me you got into a fight over a woman, Pedri. Over a woman you and her swore was nothing when HR asked." He said in a calmer tone of voice.

"I was just defending min..."

"I told you not to tell me!" Xavi exclaimed annoyed. "Do you know the mess you've caused? This could cost us a lot. You're not gonna be on the bench, you're suspended, go home, Pedri." Pedri tried to say something but was soon stopped by Xavi, who was furious again. The door swung open again, and a member of the communication team entered the room.

"Isabella, we need you here, the match referee wants explanations, but the Atlético communication team wants to talk to you first," the girl called for Isa, who untangled herself from Pedri, before leaving the room she gave one last look at the player, and then left for good. Pedri turned around angrily, kicking the chair that was there.

"I guess your brother won't be able to deny this rumor on social media, right?" Xavi said breaking the silence, Pedri looked up to see his coach and could tell the older man had a slight smirk on his face. "Did you at least hit him properly?" Pedri just nodded, and Xavi gave a proud smile, patting the player's shoulder. "Go home, kid," said the older man leaving the room.

Pedro was soon escorted out of the stadium by a member of the coaching staff. Pedri didn't see Isa anymore, and that annoyed him, his phone soon beeped indicating a message from HR, for a new meeting, he rolled his eyes and before he could block the phone, a message from an unknown number arrived.

"I appreciate what you did, but this can't happen, things like this can ruin my, and especially your career. This was a mistake from the beginning, and whatever is happening or has happened between you and me, it's over here. Everything between us will be strictly professional. Please respect my decision, and I hope this doesn't ruin your friendship with Axel!!"

Pedri felt his heart tighten, and his breath caught in his throat, he always reassured his friends and himself, that everything between him and the woman was just a physical attraction, but at that moment, with that message, he was sure there was something more, and as much as she denied it, Pedri knew there was something more from her side too, but if she wanted to run away from it, and wanted everything to be professional, then, so be it.

**********************************************

N/A: Again, I apologize for the delay. I hope you liked it. I've revised this chapter many times, BUT as I promised to post it today, something must have slipped, I promise to review it during the week. Thank you for all the comments, likes, reblogs, and asks, I LOVE seeing your reaction and opinion, it warms my heart!!

#pedri gonzalez #pedri imagine #pedri x reader #pedri gonzalez x reader #pedri #pedriiii #gavi imagine #ferran torres #fc barcelona #pedri gonzalez imagine

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heartandfangs · 2 years ago

Text

NOT IF IT'S YOU— PART ONE.

GENRE University AU, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Romance, Angst, Smut, Fluff

PAIRING Nerd!Heeseung x f!Reader

WARNINGS 18+ ONLY MDNI, Jealousy, Cursing, Making out, Arguing, Anxiety, Depression, Flirting, Mentions of food, Brief violence, Brief mention of alcohol, Brief mention of somnophilia, Crying (all sorts), Degradation, Breast worship, Multiple Orgasms, Squirting, Coming untouched, Heavy spit play, Light BDSM, Edging, Spanking, Oral Sex, Unprotected Sex, Cream Pie, Dry humping, Praise kink, First-time blow job, Ball sucking, Fingering, Cum eating, Ear licking, Biting, Public Sex, Light bondage, Dom!Heeseung, Brattysub!FemMC, Sub!Heeseung, Softdom!FemMC, Other OC’s

SUMMARY Befriending a nerd who wants nothing to do with you in a coding class you want absolutely nothing to do with becomes the challenge of the semester— and you’re determined to ace that shit no matter what. WORD COUNT 29k (Fic Total)

AUTHOR’S NOTE Long time no see— it’s P, the romantic at heart! This one’s for the people who play otome games, whose favorite spot on campus is the library, and who are afraid to be loved but want to love as hard as they possibly can.

Enjoy my contribution to the tropey Uni AU genre! Also wtf thank you for 1k followers (If you’re a minor please unfollow me. Idc if that puts me way back under. If you’re not, thank you, and stay tuned bc I will do something to celebrate… once I get through 6 months worth of notifications rip)

See end of part two for author’s note cont.

Masterlist, Part Two

“Have you ever gotten the random urge to give someone a blow job?”

You lifted your head from your notes, eyes wide and scrutinizing. Why did your friend have to be so damn loud in the library, of all places?

A scoff barely escaped your mouth before you dived back into your textbook, “There’s not a person with a dick on this university campus that deserves one from me. Why? Have you?”

“All the time, but especially when I’m on my period,” Rin confessed, “Hormones.”

“Oh, I bet.”

I don’t know how Rin finds the time to think about these things…

Your friend pouted while drumming her pencil against the communal library table as if she could hear your judgemental thoughts. There were more important things for you to worry about, clearly.

You sighed as you began to pack up your backpack to catch your most dreaded class of the semester, coding.

It was an elective you immediately regretted taking, but you swore to yourself to see it through to expand your skill set. Unfortunately, it was just a week into the semester, and the horrid feeling that you would fail a class for the first time was way too real.

Rin continued to spew nonsense, “Maybe I should check this dating app—”

You slung your backpack over your shoulder and ruffled Rin’s hair on your way to the elevators, “You are a slut, aren’t you?”

“Please stop acting like you’re not,” Rin rolled her eyes and raised her voice just enough to carry over the bookshelves and be heard by unsuspecting students, “There’s only so many otome games one can play!”

“Shhh!” You hissed at her to shut up, eyes shooting daggers at the snickering girl.

She must’ve been spying on you every time you pulled out your phone to take a break. What did she have against your little games? After your first relationship went up in flames, they were a pretty decent replacement for dating and soon became an addictive hobby.

They were great time-killers, required minimum commitments, and had a plethora of eye candy to choose from. Even if you did screw up, you just needed to wait a few days to replenish your lives. Plus, they all fit in your pocket…

And they could never break your heart like your ex had.

‘I’m gonna kill you’, You mouthed at her over your shoulder while slamming your fist against the elevator button.

Rin tapped her lips with her middle finger and sent you a flying kiss. Deep down, she hoped you’d come across a sweet boy for your own good.

While you stared at the colored lines of code on the monitor in front of you, determined to at least figure out how to embed one damn photo onto your website for tomorrow’s critique, your silent tablemate on your left tapped away at his keyboard with ease.

Everything about the guy screamed overachiever; it was 45 minutes after class had ended, and he was still working away on his project after everyone else had left.

Meanwhile, you were pretending to know what you were doing by typing in some random characters and then immediately deleting them. Being the anxiety-ridden person you were, you managed to work up a nervous sweat, your palms going numb.

Fuck, this is embarrassing. I should just leave and figure it out once I get home.

The student next to you didn’t seem to have any issues, but then again, the course you enrolled in was actually a combined class with different levels, and clearly, this wasn’t his first course in the subject. It was definitely an odd curriculum; you weren’t sure why you hadn’t read the class description more thoroughly.

“Hi! Mind if I sit here?” You asked the student earlier upon seeing the closest open seat available.

The boy didn’t say hello, he merely spared you a glance, adjusted his glasses, then resumed the staring contest with his computer screen.

“Okay…” You said with a touch of annoyance in your tone. His eyes barely shifted to your face in response, and then he was back to typing.

His standoffish attitude from the moment you walked into the class and took the closest open seat next to him irked you more than it should’ve.

It wasn’t until you sat down next to him that you were thrown off by how big the guy actually was, but even more so, the faint scent of sweet lavender wafting off of him. You weren't sure whether it was cologne or detergent, just that it somewhat reminded you of your favorite macaron flavor.

How unexpected. Well, that ruins it, you thought.

Even if the guy smelled pretty damn nice, he was snooty in your book. If he didn’t have such an aloof attitude about him, you might’ve befriended him just to reach out for notes in the class in case you got sick.

Rin often called you a prideful bitch, and you’d brush off her accusations, but deep down, you knew her words had some weight to them. Prideful was a fair adjective; your strong desire to handle your own business kept others at bay, which was great for someone like you who liked to be left to your own devices.

Though pride paired with stubbornness wasn’t necessarily the most beneficial combination when finding oneself in a pinch…

Nearly two hours of the class begrudgingly swept by, and you were still stuck on the initial steps, your brain utterly confused by the jumble of lines and coding rules you had to adhere to. It was a huge struggle to keep up with the pace the professor taught, let alone ensure the material stuck in your brain.

It also didn’t help that the boy next to you had the audacity to pull up a window of manga on the side to read while you were struggling your ass off.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed at him.

Now, the class was well over, and you still managed to convince yourself to stay even though the shit your professor covered in lecture went in through one ear and out the other.

After such a long day of stacked classes, your facade slipped, and you dropped your head into your hands. If you were honest, some of your pride slipped along with it. Since you were so busy, the last meal you had eaten was yesterday’s dinner, and you were starving. There were tons of other class assignments you hadn’t even touched yet.

You bit your lip and watched the boy out of the corner of your eye, debating for a solid minute if you should ask for help. At this point, you were just wasting precious time that could be spent running to the nearest McDonald's for a burger.

In the name of efficiency, you decided to reach out for help from the person you least wanted to ask— but just this once.

“Hey. Could you show me how to add an image to my site? I can’t figure it out even though I tried to follow the directions….”

First, you saw the boy’s brown eyes widen ever so slightly before he looked over you in consideration.

If he says no, I guess I’ll go fuck myself.

“Sure.”

Oh.

Feeling your heart flood with relief, you replied gratefully, “Thank you.”

You were taken aback when you watched him slide off his chair and drop to his knees by your side. He leaned over the edge of the table to take control of your mouse and keyboard, his attention fixed on the debauched code on your screen.

Really, you two could’ve just switched seats, but you decided to let him do his thing while you tucked your hands under your thighs and watched. Your brain was beyond trying to make sense of what he was inputting into your code.

Funnily enough, the silence between you two was even more awkward than it had been before you spoke to each other. Still, you refrained from distracting him, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible.

After a minute, you decided to check him out instead.

Your eyes shifted between the computer screen and his calm, concentrated features since you hadn’t really gotten a good look at him before.

His black, wispy bangs hung just over his dark eyes, and his circular, silver-rimmed glasses sort of amplified their roundness. They held a touch of naïveté in them– but when you looked at him from the side, they were sharpened due to focus.

Admittedly, he had the softest-looking set of lips, the kind that anyone would easily be jealous of. The slope of his nose was just as cute, to your annoyance.

Your eyes trailed downwards to the pronounced curve of his throat, but just for a moment before returning your attention to the screen of code.

He was attractive in an unexpected sort of way.

It actually was kind of sweet that he’d be willing to kneel on the questionable floor of the computer lab to help you out. You wondered if he was trying to make up for ignoring you at the beginning of class.

“Is this the photo you want to add?” He hovered the mouse over the recent file in your downloads folder.

“Yeah.”

You must’ve really fucked up your code because the slowest five minutes passed before he clicked save on your program, and most of it you spent trying to act like you hadn’t been staring at him every other second.

The boy finally stood up with the slightest groan, and to your dismay, the sound went straight between your thighs.

Woah there.

“Try refreshing that,” He instructed while rubbing at his kneecaps through his jeans.

With the click of a mouse, you refreshed the program to see a jpg of your favorite Shrek meme pop up on your otherwise bare-bones-looking website.

“Wow— it actually works. Thank you,” You were unable to help yourself from beaming up at him, rather impressed at his efficiency.

He merely nodded, averting his eyes.

Was he older than you or younger? Did he work on the weekends? Have a significant other? A myriad of ridiculous questions bombarded your mind.

“What’s your name?” You asked.

That was a good, normal place to start.

“Heeseung,” he stretched his arms over his head and winced at the slightest crick of his shoulder. All your eyes could focus on were the sharp lines of his waist peeking out under the edge of his sweatshirt.

You introduced yourself as casually as you could, “My name’s ___. This really isn’t my thing, so thank you.”

“Anytime,” He said simply, rubbing at the back of his neck.

In a flash of a second, the shameless part of your mind dared to imagine how that shy expression of his might twist into one of pleasure— how his breathy sighs would fill your ears while he was hunched over, bracing himself on the table. At the same time, you pictured yourself between his long legs, mouthing kisses over his bulge, watching him twitch above you all the while.

‘Who’s the slut now?’ You could already hear Rin’s ridiculous comments; she must’ve poisoned your brain with the thought.

Feeling yourself starting to go slightly demented from the turn of events, you excused yourself and threw your supplies into your backpack to leave as quickly as you could, entirely oblivious to how Heeseung stared after you on your way out.

Heeseung meant it when he said, ‘anytime.’

From that day on, there wasn’t an instance where he didn’t hesitate to help when you asked him for it. Each day, you grew less and less hesitant to ask him for assistance which was… interesting.

What was even more unbelievable was that he never asked for anything in return, and you were so grateful, so smitten by him. The assignments you received were absolutely distressing, yet Heeseung didn’t appear to resent your requests and was always more than willing to lend you a hand. Based on your life experience, that was far from normal.

There was a question that you just had to ask a few weeks into the semester when he was helping you work on one of your projects for the nth time.

“Honestly, do you like doing this?”

Heeseung leaned back in his chair and appeared contemplative while stretching his wrists. “No. Coding is a tedious process, but if you’re referring to helping you,” He looked at you with an earnest gleam in his eyes and gave you a small smile, “Yes, I really like helping you.”

It was the first time you felt your heart skip in a while.

Right then and there, you could’ve dropped to your knees and let him use your mouth however he pleased. Fuck everyone else in the class; you would’ve done it.

On a serious note, it was unfortunate that you had nothing to offer him of value in the class.

Your creative mind worked so differently, and you two didn’t share any other classes you could help him with. So you often tried to make up for it by conversing and attempting to get to know him.

Emphasis on attempt.

The downside to your interactions was that he rarely engaged with you on the occasion, even when you tried to initiate a casual conversation with him.

“What are you always reading during class?” You glanced over at his screen curiously one day.

Heeseung was always quick to minimize the extra window when you caught him. “Nothing much, just manga. Need something?”

“What? I— No, I was just wondering,” You’d quirk a brow at him, and he’d return to his task.

Every time you came into class and took the same seat next to him, you’d greet him, and he’d greet you in return but left it at that. After assisting you with an issue, he’d always quietly turn back to his computer and pick up where he left off. Maybe you’d be able to get in a question or two, but he hardly talked up a storm.

Even when you probed him about his life, Heeseung merely gave short replies or shook off your questions. He was so difficult to get to know and apparently didn’t care to hold a conversation with you outside of coding. Still, you were insistent because you were a relatively private individual yourself. Really, you tried to understand where he was coming from.

“I’m so glad I don’t have classes after this,” a yawn escaped your lips as you covered your mouth with your hand.

Heeseung’s typing never ceased, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You stared at his profile, waiting to see if he’d continue the conversation. After a second too long of waiting, you asked, “Do you have any night classes?”

“I don’t. I have work.”

You perked up in your seat. “Oh? Where at?”

“I’m actually about to change jobs, so it really doesn’t matter,” Heeseung responded curtly.

You sank back into your chair. “Oh. Sorry.”

He turned to look at you as if to say something, an apologetic expression nearly taking hold of his features, but he seemingly held himself back and returned to his work.

Still, within the coming weeks, you grew curious about his family as well. One day your curiosity was at its peak, and you rattled off questions about any possible siblings he might have. That was less intrusive than asking about a significant other, right?

“So, are you an only child, or do you have any siblings?” You probed during a particularly long day and difficult class session. When one’s brain was already fried, it didn’t hurt to completely give up on figuring something out, especially if you had Heeseung.

Just for today, you promised yourself as Heeseung was clicking away at your keyboard, helping you out as usual.

“... I have a brother,” Heeseung hesitated, “Stepbrother, actually. He’s a student as well.”

“No way? Same major as you?”

“No…” and he left it at that, making you wonder if they weren’t on the greatest terms... Or if he just didn’t care to share more of his life with you.

Nonetheless, your attempts to converse with him day after day eventually took a toll on you. Clearly, you were bothering him with the questions, but it’s not like you just chose anyone to put effort into getting to know. Why couldn’t he understand that? Most people would’ve loved getting asked about their life and would easily drone on and on about themselves.

Rin would cackle at you now if she only knew of your circumstances. As if you would ever tell her with the shit way things were going.

God, I should just stick to my little otome game apps with automated responses.

After several weeks of your relationship with him going nowhere, your savior became the source of your frustration.

Guys never helped you out without an ulterior motive or expecting something in return, so it was almost inconceivable to think someone like Heeseung existed. His caring personality subverted your initial expectations of him, and you knew his selfless actions came from a sincere place, but still…

This had grown beyond needing his help in class. All you wanted to do was get to know Heeseung because you had taken a genuine interest in him.

Was that asking for a lot?

The day you walked into class and plopped into your seat without saying hello to him, Heeseung knew something was up. The boy had gotten much too used to your greetings every day.

Barely able to contain your irritation with him, you stared straight ahead at your screen and got to work, despite feeling his eyes on you.

Beside you, Heeseung was desperately trying to read your stoic expression. He’d glance at you meekly, and look back at his computer for a few seconds, only to peer over at you again.

This cycle went on for the next few minutes until you heard him greet you first, for once.

“Hey, ___–”

“Hey,” You barely spared him a look and settled back into your workflow just as swiftly.

Stumped by your odd behavior, Heeseung drew his hands into his lap and fell quiet once more.

Just when you thought he’d leave you be, Heeseung pulled up to your side in his rolling chair, that signature lavender scent of his invading your senses. His knee bumped into yours but stayed there.

“Do you need my help with anything?”

“No, thank you,” you replied coldly.

You saw him wilt out of the corner of your eye, and something vengeful in you felt good about making him feel the way you’ve felt for the past months. The other part of you just felt plain guilty.

Feeling suffocated, you abruptly left the class to get some fresh air. You were hoping the open-air foyer filled with wooden benches would grant you a moment of reprieve.

Choosing the farthest bench from the entrance, you sat down and propped up your legs, pulling your knees close to your chin. The evening breeze swept across your flushed cheeks, and you were mortified to realize tears were threatening to spill down them.

It was childish of you to reject Heeseung’s attention once you finally got it, but… you couldn’t help it. You knew the attention wasn’t due to any sort of genuine feelings toward you; it was merely your petty behavior that provoked him.

Was this how it felt to be rejected while trying so hard to befriend someone? Is this how people felt when you made them jump through a hundred hoops to get to know you?

You thought back to when you took the chance to let someone in for the first and last time. Had you just been too much? Or maybe not worth the trouble?

If that were true… maybe that was the reason your first love had cheated on you.

Old feelings bubbled up in your chest, and suddenly everything really felt like shit.

To make things worse, you were sulking. Even though Heeseung could tell something was up and was trying to diagnose the situation, he still infuriated you. If anyone had to deal with an aloof individual for as long as you did, you were sure they’d go crazy too.

Especially if they were as cute as Heeseung was.

Fuck.

There was no way you were about to cry in public over a boy, the most angelic, frustrating boy you’ve ever met.

Not everybody reciprocated people’s feelings equally, and it was simply life to deal with it. Still…

Once you buried your face into your arms, you released your pent-up emotions with a shaky breath, letting the hot tears fall and soak into your jeans. You decided to stay there for a while, long enough until you knew everyone in class would be gone, so you could rest assured no one would see your pathetic tear-stained face.

It was a good half hour after class ended before you made your way back to collect your belongings and catch the bus to head home. Somehow, you cried for the majority of it as quietly as you could.

It actually helped a bit, as it had back then.

When you pulled open the door, you froze like a deer in headlights.

Heeseung stared up at you with wide eyes from where he was sitting; he was the only one left in the class, which you hadn’t counted on.

He wasn’t waiting for you, was he?

“Um…” You trailed off and slowly turned to leave again, but he was already out of his seat, making his way toward you.

Jesus—

You were hardly ever standing next to each other, so facing him head-on at his tall stature was intimidating, even with his cardigan and those nerdy glasses of his. Perhaps it also had to do with the unfamiliar look in his eyes and the intense concern in them.

“Are you okay?” He reached out to touch your arm, but you stepped back and caught him by the shoulders, holding him back at arm's length.

Unable to look at him directly, you stared down at your shoes next to his, eyes stinging again as if you didn’t just spend half an hour crying.

Just seeing his face and hearing his voice brought on a flood of confusing emotions.

“Yeah? I-I’m fine,” You insisted.

Even though Heeseung couldn’t see your face, he saw your tears fall onto your sneakers and felt your grip curl into his shoulders.

“___, if it’s something I said or did…” Heeseung’s voice went soft, and you nearly jumped when you felt his hands slide over yours, his thumbs stroking comfortingly over your skin, “You can tell me.”

His mere touch slowly brought your anxiety down, one stroke of his thumb after the other— at the same time, it sent shivers along your skin.

It’s what you didn’t say or do.

Fear threatened to cut your voice off completely. You took several deep breaths, trying to sort out your thoughts so that you could properly convey how you were feeling.

Here was your chance to be honest with him from the get-go. It was scary, but you needed to try.

“I consider you as someone who I’m really grateful for, Heeseung. Especially after how much of your time you’ve given me this semester,” You sighed, glancing up at him even though your vision was blurry, “You’re a really talented guy. It’s just impossible to get to know you because you like to keep to yourself. I think I understand why you do. Even I don’t like letting other people in all the time...”

Something seemed to click in his mind at your words; you saw his lips part ever so slightly in realization, his eyes widening a fraction.

“... But it’s still hard to be on the receiving end of that. However, if that’s where you want me,” You pulled your hands out of his, letting them drop to your side, “Then there’s not much I can do about that.”

Quietly, you brushed past him and packed your backpack in a hurry to leave.

Heeseung fell silent behind you, and when you left him, you kept your eyes trained on the floor.

The next day, you remained in a foul mood as you chose to sit on the opposite side of your table to avoid the tension of being next to Heeseung for two hours straight. As you expected, the student who usually sat there confronted you about it.

“Hey, this is my seat. I’ve been sitting here all semester.”

You didn’t care to grant her your full attention and continued typing, “I don’t see your name on it.”

It was definitely a shitty thing to say, but you couldn’t bring yourself to give a damn at that moment.

She was stunned into silence and subsequently stomped over to the next row to take her seat next to Heeseung. There was no doubt that he overheard your confrontation.

Class sped by while you were laser-focused on completing everything you needed to get done for that period— without Heeseung’s help. At least one good thing came out of taking notes and watching Heeseung work these past several weeks; your evolving skill set. You were far from excellent, but you had gotten at least a bit better with the basics.

This time, you didn’t plan on sticking around after class.

It seemed like Heeseung was prepared for you not to because the moment you stood up and bolted to the door, he was already out of his seat, hot on your trail.

Heeseung called out your name.

You ignored him, even as he easily caught up with your pace. His silence yesterday already confirmed all you needed to know about how he felt about you.

He caught your elbow, and you stopped to look him dead in the eye. “What do you think you’re doing? Let go.”

Heeseung immediately released you, “Sorry, I just wanted to talk—“

A menacing force slammed into your back, propelling you straight into Heeseung’s chest. Someone halfway down the hall called out a sarcastic apology, but it barely registered— you were startled by how Heeseung steadied you against his hard body.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” You scowled, already shaking his hands off despite your body aching at the feeling of him so near, “What did you want now?”

Heeseung‘s eyes wavered, but he managed to hold your scrutinizing gaze.

“Do you want to grab dinner?”

He really felt the pressure of an impending ‘no’ when all you did was stare at him.

You frowned, “What?”

Heeseung gulped but continued, “You don’t have any other classes for the day, right? There’s a really good Thai place just on the edge of campus, and their Pad Thai is the best— at least within a 20-mile radius.”

Was he doing this all of a sudden because he pitied you?

“You don’t need to do this.”

Heeseung looked like he was on the verge of panicking, but just as quickly, a sense of determination overcame him.

He took a step forward, “But what if I want to?”

You looked off to the side, “I’m confused. Why all of a sudden?”

“I know it’s like I’m doing this out of the blue,” He sounded in a rush due to nerves, so he slowed down his speech, “I’m not good with words, and it’s true that I’m easily distracted by my classes. But I do care about you, ___.”

Your chest throbbed as he peered down at you from under his lashes with furrowed brows, “I know I’m usually pretty distant, and I can’t make up for everything in a night, but I really would like to talk with you over dinner… only if you want to join me.”

Heeseung’s expression appeared so hopeful, and his gaze held an amount of tenderness that had you shifting your weight under the unusual attention you were receiving.

What was that look he was giving you?

He felt you brush by him, and he hung his head.

Heeseung felt his stomach twist with guilt, he knew you wouldn’t give him a chance after how he’d been treating you—

“… Fine.”

Heeseung straightened up with wide eyes and turned to face you as you set off in the completely wrong direction.

“It’s this way,” He eagerly called after you.

You came to a quick halt, then turned back around, crossing your arms, “Lead the way then.”

He smiled to himself when he heard the unmistakable sound of your stomach grumbling ever so faintly.

Walking across campus with Heeseung was convenient because the majority of people made plenty of room for the two of you, all thanks to the giant by your side. Usually, they’d have no issue bumping shoulders with you or overlooking you.

Must be nice to be able to part seas of people, you thought enviously.

Heeseung remained quiet for the majority of the walk except for mentioning a direction here and there. All the while, you were trying to anticipate what Heeseung might have to say to you once you got to the restaurant.

The sky grew to be a deep orange by the time you entered the quaint Thai restaurant at the front of the campus. A simple aqua blue neon sign that read 01 Thai shone across asphalt above an old, cream colored building. While you considered their signature menu options, you turned Heeseung’s words over in your head.

“I do care about you, ___.”

Do you really?

“And what would you like to order?” The cashier asked you.

“Oh. I guess I’ll try the Pad Thai.”

“Anything to drink?”

“Just water, please,” You absentmindedly dug in your pocket to hand over your card, but Heeseung was already handing over his.

Your brows drew together as you quietly glanced up at him, not wanting to make a scene.

He gave you a nervous smile, “My treat.”

You looked over your shoulder for seating, “I’ll Venmo you later.”

“No need,” He shook his head, guiding you to a corner table.

“I will.”

Even from across the small wooden table, Heeseung sensed your lingering discomfort, understandably. He looked like he wanted to say something, but so did you, so he waited.

After a contemplative moment, you met his eyes and folded your hands on the table. “Heeseung, don’t tell me you're doing all this just because you feel bad.”

“No— I mean, in a way, yes. I know how I can be, and I’m sorry that you had to deal with that. I never meant to hurt you the way I did.”

I really did emotionally throw up on him yesterday, and his silence didn’t make it any better. Even now, I still feel high-strung about the whole ordeal, but he seems sorry about it…

“Listen, I get that you feel guilty, but if you really do just want to be friends, there’s no need for anything crazy. Just talking would be nice to start.”

“Right...” He stared right at you.

Your brows knit together once more at the uncertainty in his voice.

“Right,” Heeseung repeated, almost to himself, “That’s doable. Although guilt plays a significant part in driving me to do what I’m doing… Please know it’s not my only motivator.”

Heeseung startled you when he reached out to take one of your hands in his. You still looked utterly confused, so he exhaled softly before squeezing your hand and running the pad of his thumb along your knuckles, just like he did back in class.

Goosebumps immediately broke out on your skin from the heat of his touch.

Oh.

Behind his glasses, his eyes were intent; you had his full attention. “I’ve been really out of touch with people these days, and I regret it. However, I had some personal things I was working through. It’s not an excuse, but I do care about you, ___. I hope you can eventually find a way to forgive me.”

At his sudden admittance, your heart rate began to pick up. Immediately you hated how vulnerable his words made you feel, but that also meant that they were real. His forwardness rendered you genuinely speechless; even your mind drew a blank.

It seemed like he could sense it.

“I-I see,” You stared at your daintier hand in his own, then looked back up at Heeseung’s keen gaze.

His brows drew together, and his lips curled upwards ever so slightly, “Am I making you nervous?” He sounded like he was making a discovery.

Heat immediately flooded your face once more, and you took your hand back out of embarrassment.

He gnawed on his lip, his eyelids lowering a fraction, “Sorry.”

A waitress pulled up to your table with a tray of steaming bowls, and Heeseung thanked the waitress as she left while you reached for a pair of chopsticks.

“What kind of question is that?” You mumbled while you picked at your noodles. Your brain was failing to make sense of Heeseung’s feelings towards you.

He didn’t let up.

“You make me really nervous, ___,” Heeseung dared to reveal in a low voice.

As he expected, his declaration drew your attention back to him. Your eyes narrowed at Heeseung, who wore a small yet knowing smile, clearly trying to get a rise out of you.

Is this really the same guy who chased me down to grab dinner with him?

Little did you know the boy sitting across from you was attuned to your every movement— from the quickened pace of your breath to the twitch of your leg when his knee brushed against yours underneath the table.

Naturally, he would be after spending so much time at your side for the past couple of months, taking note of your little habits and mannerisms.

He also knew you’d be skeptical for a while after this, that it would take time to prove his sincerity once more. Heeseung was willing to overcome that by any means.

When Heeseung realized he had stunned you into silence, he finally looked down at his own plate. “I’m sorry, I’ll stop teasing. Let’s eat before it gets cold.”

“Agreed,” You were grateful for the change of subject because you just barely survived his sudden undivided attention. Also, you were beyond famished.

All the while, your mouth was watering at the sight of the food, so you took a bite of the Pad Thai and savored the flavorful spices on your tongue. It was pretty damn good, Heeseung had taste. One bite of noodles, and suddenly, you felt as though you were gaining back your senses.

He’s kind of flirty, isn’t he?

After several more bites and a nice gulp of cold water, you felt ready to hold a proper conversation.

“Don’t bullshit me anymore, Heeseung,” You commented, propping your chin up on your palm.

He chuckled softly, and you squinted his way.

“I’ll try my best, ___.”

Over dinner, Heeseung allowed you to delve into his mind, which was certainly a treat.

Not without difficulty, of course.

His answers remained vague unless you pressed further; it was like pulling teeth, but you could tell he was trying. With enough persistence, he divulged you.

“Do you just really like to keep a low profile?” You asked, referencing his deflection of your attempts at conversing with him during class, “I mean, I figured you just found me annoying.”

Heeseung slowly began, “I wasn’t in the best headspace this semester. Things at my old job weren’t going well at all, and those issues combined with the stress of my classes resulted in me feeling very closed off from my surroundings.”

You scratched your cheek. “I see. How does that usually affect you?”

“I tend to isolate myself under pressure, and it becomes difficult for me to connect with… well, those around me,” Heeseung explained, running his fingers back and forth over the grain of the tabletop.

“Hm, that’s tough. Honestly, you always seem like you have your shit together.”

Heeseung shook his head, “It’s… a facade of sorts.”

“Well, a lot of people have one,” Your eyes wandered down to your plate, it had been scraped clean for a while.

The shop was empty save for you two, it must’ve been growing closer to closing time, what with the moonlight shining through the windows.

“Yeah? What’s yours?”

Ah, now it’s his turn to take a shot at me.

Being vulnerable was difficult, especially with all of Heeseung’s attention on you. Silence fell over you two, but he waited, even when it felt like you weren’t going to speak.

“Probably enjoying being alone. Not that I don’t, but it depends on how I’m feeling that day. I see independence and loneliness as two sides of the same coin.”

It was the truth, to an extent. You enjoyed the benefits of being independent, but there was a fine line between that and being lonely.

“It’s a normal human thing to go through,” You shrugged.

It’s how I’ve always been, and it usually keeps me safe. But I can’t believe I just admitted that to another person, let alone Heeseung. Though that’s the whole point of this conversation, isn’t it?

“Um, anyways…“

“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel lonely.”

Your eyes flitted to Heeseung’s expression; he seemed cautious yet sincere.

“Don’t be. It’s not your responsibility to make me feel otherwise.”

It was a difficult realization to come to, and as such, you gave a detached response. In due time you’d have to see if he meant everything that he said.

With an inward sigh, you felt disappointment replace the anger that had been slowly filtering out of your system for the past hour. Heeseung was willing to try to be friends, which was more than you could’ve asked for, so deep down, you fought your desire for him. You were being given the chance to take things day by day and come to terms with the reality of your situation.

“Besides, being lonely is a good skill to have. It’s weird to say out loud, but I really think it is,” You stated, glancing out the window into the dimly lit streets, “It’s useful and easier than most people think.”

When Heeseung said nothing in response, you turned to look at him once more, wanting to hear his voice.

Something from him, anything.

Instead, you met those dark brown eyes behind his glasses; they contained a mix of something you couldn’t place and a tinge of sadness, but most surprisingly– knowing.

You fidgeted with the hairband on your wrist. “What? What’s wrong?”

Heeseung spoke, “Nothing… What do you mean?”

His question seemed hollow as if he feigned confusion; his eyes told you everything yet nothing, all at once– like he could see right through you.

You shook your head, voice coming out as a whisper, “I don’t know… You’re making me nervous again.”

“Sorry,” Heeseung blinked and shifted his eyes elsewhere, and suddenly you felt like you could breathe, but just barely.

He distractedly removed his glasses to pinch at his nose bridge, and that’s when your breath caught in your chest.

A slight smile tugged at your lips, “Hey, you look different without your glasses.” You were apt to change the subject.

“Oh, really?” Heeseung moved to adjust them back in place quickly.

“Wait,” you leaned over the table and placed your hand on his to stop him, wanting a better look, “You look really handsome. Not that you don’t with them on, but….”

Heeseung noted how intrigued you looked, the fascination brightening your features. It was certainly a contrast to the way you regarded him just a moment before. “I’ve worn glasses my whole life. I don’t look odd without them?”

“No, but I think you’re cute either way—“ You curiously brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes, and his brows rose in surprise.

Upon realizing what you had done, you promptly sat back in your seat and stuffed your hands in your pockets.

“I— You just look different,” You tried to cover up your embarrassment with a smile.

You hadn’t intended on getting touchy, but you just couldn't help it. Then again, he comfortably initiated way more physical contact with you today than he had all semester.

Heeseung quietly glanced off to the side, and then his eyes were back on you without a moment’s notice, observing.

Ah, there’s that churning sensation in my stomach again.

Even though you could see his eyes clear as day, you couldn’t read him as easily this time.

“Thanks,” His eyes flitted away as he fixed his glasses back in place.

Uh-oh. Did I mess up? Did I turn him off by touching his hair? Or with my comments on his appearance?

“We better go, I think they’re closing,” You rubbed your cheek while throwing your backpack over your shoulder, “Thank you for dinner.”

“Sure. Thanks for hearing me out… and for sharing,” Heeseung led you to the door and held it open for you.

His voice sounded odd, almost tight.

“Yeah...”

It had been a rollercoaster of a day so far; you weren’t sure what kind of note you were going to end it on.

The brisk night air hit your skin and made you shudder. You turned towards the bus stop across the street, anticipating an arrival soon, “I’m headed over here. I guess I’ll see you in class?”

When you glanced back over your shoulder, Heeseung was looking after you in such a way that caused you to freeze. His demeanor had shifted from the start of dinner to now like there was a barely tamed intensity about him. He felt unpredictable— he even seemed on edge.

What was going on? Maybe you really stepped on his toes earlier with your comment about his glasses. It certainly wasn’t your intention; you meant it as a compliment.

He could’ve been self-conscious about it, you idiot!

Heeseung gave you a curt nod, “Get home safely, okay?”

You frowned.

“Okay…” You paused before giving him a quick hug.

Next to free food and a bit of communication, hugs diffused most escalating situations, right?

But even to you, it felt like a blur; you barely gave him enough time to return it, and then you were slipping out of his grasp just as quickly as you had drawn close.

“Bye,” You whispered.

Taken aback, Heeseung dropped his arms to his sides as he watched you jog across the street to board the bus that arrived a moment before and nearly took off without you.

He inhaled deeply.

Now, his whole body ached.

Oh, he hated you even more for that.

The cold suddenly seeped into his skin. It hadn’t affected him until you left his side.

Your bus took off just as his phone faintly vibrated in his pocket. He lost count of how many times it had gone off during his dinner with you, but he hardly paid it any attention. He ignored it for the past two months but couldn’t bring himself to block the number.

Finally, he decided to answer it.

“Heeseung! Do you know how many times I’ve called you today? And the day before? Over the past eight fucking weeks? We were supposed to meet–”

“I was at dinner—” Heeseung immediately kicked himself for even sparing an excuse. There was no need to anymore. “Please stop calling me.”

His thumb hovered over the button to hang up and block her number; he should’ve done it earlier.

“Don’t do this to me, love.”

Anger slithered up his veins, “How else do you expect me to act after all that you’ve done?”

“What you saw wasn’t what it looked like—“

Beep—

That’s what she’d said in the hundreds of voicemails she left, or so he guessed. Listening to one was sufficient.

From that day on, Heeseung dialed back on the forwardness he displayed in terms of physical contact with you, and you couldn’t figure out why for the life of you. However, your conversations in class were plentiful and on friendlier terms, save for the interesting underlying tension that persisted through his frequent teasing comments and lasting stares.

That’s not to say there was a complete absence of flirtatious touching, he simply wasn’t as outright with it. But you noted each subtle instance with amusement whether it was a tap on the shoulder, a bump to the knee or an accidental brush of hands when he’d reach for your mouse.

He seemed somewhat back to normal compared to how you left him that one night, but something definitely changed between you two.

On the other hand, you soon discovered the breadth of his sense of humor. The off-handed, dry comments he’d whisper about some odd gesture or explanation the professor would make had you snorting in your seat— turns out you weren’t the only one who occasionally got annoyed with the way your professor taught.

Even so, together, you both managed.

Thai food after class became a routine for you both, a couple of times a week. Ever since Heeseung made an effort to open up, sometimes you’d talk up until the last bus was available for you to catch if he didn’t have work, and other times, you’d work on assignments together.

For every question you asked him, it tickled you that he had one for you of equal measure. These brief moments with Heeseung stood out from your otherwise mundane campus life. Unfortunately, things didn’t always go according to plan.

One evening, a meeting with your advisor concerning your schedule for next semester ran over time significantly and you were 30 minutes late to your dinner at 01 Thai with Heeseung.

The frigid air lashed across your face the moment you stepped outside the administration building causing you to wince. It was an evening filled with storm clouds, and the sun had long set; it was starting to get darker earlier in the day. You reached into your pocket to update Heeseung on your whereabouts but let out a frustrated grunt when you realized your phone had died on you.

Fuck.

The restaurant was on the complete other side of campus so you decided to cut through a back way that was a bit more obscure but quicker than usual. The first droplets of rain hit your skin before it turned into an outright downpour by the time you were half way across campus.

Just my luck.

There weren’t a whole lot of shaded areas along the buildings in the back route you took so you braced yourself through the chill until the droplets began to feel like ice pellets. It was too much so you chose to take shelter when you came upon the first shaded area that came into view near the back exit of a building.

Something on the floor caught your eye as you quickly approached. A dog with soaked fur was curled up on its stomach and appeared to be breathing irregularly. On instinct, you kneeled down to run your hand over its fur, and it let out a thin whine.

“Oh, you poor thing. Where’s your owner?”

You felt along its furry chin for a tag and found purchase in a sleek, black collar. However, there was no tag with an owner's contact to be found.

Maybe it’s a high-tech tracking collar?

With your back against the wall, you slid down to sit for a moment, enduring the mist that the wind blew against you both, cradling the dog close. “I don’t think the rain will let up any time soon… You don’t wanna come with? You just wanna stay here and wait for your owner, huh?”

The dog merely blinked up at you.

“Alright, then you need this more than I do. Hopefully they’re just around the corner…”

You shrugged off your jacket and used it to dry off the pup a bit before swaddling it in the fabric. After you finished and went to scratch its chin, it licked your palm non-stop.

“You’re welcome,” You stood up with a giggle and readjusted your backpack. Although it was storming, if you let Heeseung wait any longer it would give him the wrong idea.

You received stares from other students the moment you stepped through the restaurant doors since the single layer of your T-shirt was soaked through. Immediately you crossed your arms over your chest but made a beeline towards Heeseung who sat in the corner.

He looked you over with concern.

You couldn’t help but stutter from the cold, “S-sorry. My meeting ran late with my advisor and my phone died—“

“It’s okay, I figured. Weren’t you wearing a jacket in class earlier?”

“I—I may have given it away…”

“To who?”

“To a dog I saw on the way here…?”

You realized how ridiculous it sounded once you said it out loud, but the soft spot you had towards canines made you do silly things from time to time.

Heeseung raised a brow at that, “Did you just lose it?”

“Sure, I lost it on this awfully cold day, ” You rolled your eyes.

Heeseung shook his head with a snort, and tugged his hoodie over his head, “Well, why don’t you change out of that?”

A chill racked through your body but you brushed it off, until you glanced down to see your shirt plastered to your body and around the prominent outline of your black bra.

“Um….”

“Here,” Heeseung deposited his hoodie into your arms before you could refuse, “I’ll ask them for a plastic bag to hold your clothing. Your food just came out, so go change.”

“Thanks.”

As you ignored the stares from others occupying the restaurant and clicked the restroom door shut, you gave yourself a once over in the mirror.

There really wasn’t a spot on you that wasn’t damp. You stripped out of your top and bra then proceeded to squeeze them out over the sink before tossing them into a plastic bag. You dried down as much as you could with a wad of paper towels then tugged Heeseung’s hoodie over your head.

Immediately, you were enveloped by his scent; a light sweetness with new undertones of soft musk you hadn’t detected before. The fabric was still warm against your skin with his body heat which made you feel odd.

You slowly tugged the collar up to your nose then dropped the fabric abruptly.

Let’s not make this weird. It certainly beats being cold and wet.

Heeseung eyed you once you remerged. “I ate already and was about to go looking for you to drop off your food.”

You plopped down across from him. “Yeah, sorry. Do you have to go soon?”

He glanced at his phone screen. “In about 10 minutes, for work. I’ll hang out for a while, though.”

“You don’t wanna work on an assignment while I eat?”

Heeseung pressed his cheek against his palm and leaned onto his elbow, his languid eyes on you, “Mm-mm.”

You stared at him before proceeding to shovel the tasty noodles into your mouth, “Okay.”

Heeseung chuckled, “How’d your meeting go?”

“Fine, I guess. My advisor thought he screwed up and almost made me think I had to take an extra two classes, but we straightened that out. I’m on track, and I’ll have a decent load to finish off next semester since it’s my last.”

Heeseung looked like he was in thought as you shared your schedule with him.

“None of those classes ring a bell.”

That fact bummed you out, more than you’d ever show. “Oh, really? What’s your semester looking like next year?”

“Hm, since it’s my last semester too, I’m thinking of going for an internship, it’s about time.”

You dabbed at your lips with a napkin, “That’s actually really good. I need to do that…”

“It’ll help when you apply for jobs, for sure.”

The impending doom of your future weighed heavily on your shoulders, and Heeseung seemed to notice you suddenly felt burdened.

“So, you like dogs?”

You glanced up mid-chew, “I do!”

“Did you really give a dog your jacket?” Heeseung squinted.

“Would you believe me if I said yes?”

“Maybe the second time around,” He was amused at how you pouted, “What breeds do you like?”

“I like all breeds. The funniest dogs are ones that are like humans. During last thanksgiving there was this one dog at my aunt’s that wouldn’t let me pet him at first. So, I let him be and sat in the living room alone, but every so often he would saunter in and get closer to me every time,” You laughed at the memory, “Then eventually he got so close, I just stuck my hand out and he pressed up against me for pets. Finicky but adorable…”

Heeseung cleared his throat, and wore a sheepish expression, “Sounds like it… You don’t own any dogs?”

“Not yet. I’m saving up and waiting ‘till I’m done with school. I want to be able to give it the attention it deserves.”

“I think that’s smart.”

You sighed, “Yeah… I wish I had one.”

As you finished your food, Heeseung finally said what was truly on his mind.

“You should be more careful about walking around campus without a working phone. It gets dark faster these days,” He began.

His scolding caught you off guard.

“I am cautious, I’m not dumb,” You interrupted, “And I didn’t mean to. I would’ve charged it in the library or something but I didn’t want to keep you waiting—“

“It would’ve been fine if you left me waiting a little longer to do that. It’s such a big campus where anything could happen when you least expect it, so you should always have your phone on,” Heeseung motioned for you to hand over your phone, “And I know you know that.”

You pouted but dropped it into his hand, and he connected it to a portable charger he took out of his backpack, “Alright, mother.”

Heeseung sighed but gave you a small smile anyways.

“Are you still at your old job or did you start your new one already?” You asked since Heeseung felt at liberty to say what he wanted.

Heeseung’s eyes turned troubled. “Still there. Just for a little while longer.”

You pressed, “Where do you work?”

Heeseung’s lips parted to answer but he seemed to think better of it.

“It’s not the greatest place,” Heeseung checked his phone and stood up, “Sorry, I’ve gotta go. See you.”

You bit your tongue. “Won’t you get all wet if you’re walking to work?”

“Uber,” was all he said with a tight smile, “Don’t worry about it. Get home safe.”

Heeseung left you his charger as he stepped outside into the rain, the deep slope of his shoulders inciting a sense of regret in you. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pushed him on the topic when it was clearly sensitive for him. He didn’t deserve your snappy attitude after he expressed his worry for you either… but you knew he wouldn’t hold you to it because that’s the kind of person he was.

When you weren’t grabbing dinner with Heeseung, there were evenings when you would pour over your studies and meet Rin in the library, like you always had.

“So, how are your otome games going? On to the next one?” She questioned.

Oh shit. You’ve been neglecting your pixel husbands basically since the start of the semester—

“I actually haven’t touched any games in a while.”

“Really now?” Rin seemed unsurprised at such a revelation as she continued, “How about that coding class? These days you seem less stressed about it….”

“Yeah, I finally picked up a thing or two. There’s actually this guy who’s been—“

Rin jumped out of her seat and pointed at you accusingly, the screech of her chair drawing annoyed looks from other students.

“I’ve been fucking waiting for you to bring him up!”

Your eyes widened, “Wait, how do you—”

“Shhhh!” Someone hushed.

You both put your heads together and dropped your voices to a whisper.

“How do you know Heeseung?”

Rin explained everything in detail, perhaps too much detail. Figuring out Heeseung consulted her the day you cried in front of him made your face burn.

Apparently, he hung out enough in the library to recognize Rin as your friend, although you certainly had never seen him while studying.

“Truthfully, at first, I was mad at the guy for upsetting you; the dude was too honest for his own good and actually told me he was in deep shit with you. I nearly caused a scene in here, but he seemed really apologetic and genuine about wanting to make things right with you.

So, I told him food was the way to your heart, but I warned him you’d be a little stuck up about paying for yourself. Seriously, you have the weirdest eating schedule just to achieve ‘optimal efficiency’ and avoid ‘brain fog’ or whatever,” Rin grinned.

Well, she wasn’t wrong. Free food definitely helped on top of everything else Heeseung managed to pull off since then.

“I appreciate that, but I can’t believe you knew about everything the entire time,” You felt a tad guilty for not looping her in on the situation, having thought she would’ve teased you about it, “And that he actually went out of his way to ask you about me….”

You couldn’t help but look at him a little differently now. He was serious.

“Well, I only knew what happened up until that day, but you seemed better these past several weeks, so it looks like my advice worked.”

You slid further into your seat and stared up at the ceiling, “Yeah, I suppose it did.”

“I didn’t want to ruin anything, so I stayed quiet. He’s very cute,” She grinned at you.

You paused, “We’re just friends.”

“What? All that drama for a friendship?”

“Hm…”

Rin rose an impeccably plucked brow at you.

“Yes,” You sighed, patting her head.

Your friend pouted, “I would’ve guessed otherwise, girl. There’s still time, though.”

Was there?

Soon enough, another month had flown by— finals were around the corner, and both you and Heeseung were typing up code for your class project when you ran into your first distressing issue in a while.

You called to him without taking your eyes off the screen, “Hey, something’s off, and I can’t figure out what. I swear if it’s just an extra period somewhere, I’m gonna—“

Heeseung was at your side in a heartbeat, “Let me see.”

You scooted your chair over to make room for his, but he got comfortable on the floor. “Stop kneeling. You know you’re gonna permanently fuck up your kneecaps, right?”

“I’m used to it,” He said simply before he froze up as if he had said something wrong.

Assuming that he was poking at you, you scoffed, “I don’t ask you for help that often anymore, Hee.”

Heeseung cleared his throat and got to work on your code, “No, I know.”

While you waited for him to finish diagnosing the issue, you secretly inhaled his familiar, comforting scent of sweet lavender out of habit.

You saw him smirk out of the corner of your eye.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Seriously, what?”

He shrugged, “You’re doing that thing you do every time I get close.”

Fuck. When did he even– Fuck—

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The tapping of keys halted.

A mischievous lilt made its way into his voice as he faced you, “We’re gonna go that route?”

“Yes. Yes, we are because you are not going to out me here,” You hissed under your breath.

“Ha, so you admit that you do take a whiff—“

You took hold of his jaw and forced him to face your computer screen, “Focus.”

Heeseung eyes darkened, but he let out a chuckle.

You were pressing two fingers to your temple and looking anywhere but at him, so you failed to notice. For the moment, you put aside your pride and stayed quiet until he figured out what the hell was wrong with your project.

God, how embarrassing.

A few keyboard and mouse clicks later, and Heeseung was settling back into his seat. “It was an extra period on line 976.”

“Of course it was,” You rolled your eyes and heard him laugh even harder. He was quick to figure out how often he could test your patience…

“Why do you always smell like pastries?” Your sudden question came out as an accusation.

At this point in your friendship, you found yourself blurting out random things that were on your mind when with Heeseung, and he managed to learn how to go with the flow.

“I bake in my spare time,” He said, clearly amused.

You gawked at the new discovery, “I—I guess that explains it….”

“I’ve always baked, it’s sort of just a hobby I never thought to share.”

You swore there was always something to learn about the guy, even at the quick rate that you’d gotten to know him.

“Well, what do you do with all the stuff you make? Keep them all for yourself?” You jabbed at Heeseung.

“No, I just…” His voice quietly tapered off, so you were unable to catch his last words.

“You what?”

“I’ll just give it away to the homeless on the street if I deem it edible,” He muttered.

“Huh,” You turned to Heeseung, “That’s actually really sweet.”

“It’s nothing,” He pressed his lips together and continued, “By the way, I just started my new job, and my shift is in the evening, so… we’re going to have to postpone Thai nights.”

“Oh. You started your new job finally?” Your heart and stomach dropped; you were so looking forward to it before you’d have to really buckle down for finals, “I guess we’ll have to postpone them. The timing, though….”

Postpone them until when? The two of you had completely different tracks from here on out. Would he even want to hang out with you next semester when there was nothing else to bind your schedules together?

Heeseung leaned over to rest his elbows on his knees, appearing contemplative while watching you cycle through the endless thoughts in your mind.

“I work at this new cafe about ten minutes away from campus. Do you want to drop by and check it out after class? If you want, you could study there until I get off, and then we can have dinner at my place.”

Dinner at his place?

He saw the way your eyes blew up, and he couldn’t tell if it was in shock or excitement.

“Don’t feel pressured, it was just a thought,” Heeseung brushed off a piece of lint on your knee, his touch lingering, “I get off at around 10:00, so it’d be a later-than-usual dinner.”

“S-sure,” Your voice pitched unusually high, and you nearly threw up in your mouth.

Geez, calm down!

Heeseung looked pleased as he stood up from his desk and slung his backpack over his shoulder, “Shall we?”

The moment you stepped foot in the new cafe, your body appreciated the drastic change in temperature inside, the weather was extremely chilly these days. Didn’t change the fact that you’d order something iced, though.

“Take a look at the menu, I need to get changed, and I’ll be right out to make you something to drink,” Heeseung ushered you further into the store, his hand at your lower back.

“No problem,” You held Heeseung’s warm gaze and forgot to breathe.

As Heeseung set off to the back, you exhaled and took in the bright, cozy interior of the cafe along with its high ceilings. Evening light filtered through the tall windows, casting the whole place in warmth.

What a nice cafe to work at. I could study here more often too.

The aroma of ground coffee beans and sweet pastries filled your nose, causing your brain to perk up at the thought of caffeine even though it was evening. The people that occupied the space were relatively quiet– the seats were mainly filled with a few students and young professionals.

An empty table was waiting for you in the corner, so you set down your belongings there and pulled out your wallet. Curious about their menu, you returned to the counter to consider the items.

A handsome, light-haired young man eagerly approached from behind the bar upon seeing you, “Hi there! What can I get for you?”

Your brain raced for an answer even though you were supposed to wait for Heeseung. “Um, I’ll try the iced matcha latte….”

“Perfect,” He gave you a thousand-watt smile, “Anything else I can get you? We have macarons that we bake daily.”

“Sure,” You considered the colorful rows of macarons behind the glass counter, “I’ll try a lavender one and a vanilla bean.”

As the boy picked out your macarons, you imagined how Heeseung might look like working his shift here, from his mannerisms to his barista skills and if he dealt with customers easily or not. It was something you’d never thought of previously since you had no clue about his work.

“I threw in a couple of other popular flavors on the house,” the boy gave you a wink, making you blush unexpectedly.

“Oh, thank you so much!”

The barista took a step to his right without taking his eyes off you and bumped right into Heeseung, who suddenly appeared. You noticed he looked especially cute in his work uniform, somehow fitting your exact image of how a barista would look in his white button-down and his chestnut-colored apron. A smile made its way onto your face; his glasses completed the coffee connoisseur look.

“Sorry, man—“

“Hey, no worries. I’ll ring her up,” Your eyes widened at the slight insistence in Heeseung’s voice that left no room for argument, “Jake, meet ___.”

“Hey,” Jake gave you a little wave, despite looking a bit confused at why Heeseung intercepted.

“___, this is my friend Jake. He also goes to our University,” He mentioned while tinkering with the cash register.

You took out your card and gave Jake a shy smile, “Oh, nice. Great to meet you.”

He winked at you, “Likewise.”

Apparently, only hot people work here, you surmised.

You thought you saw Heeseung pout at the exchange between you and Jake, but whether or not he actually did, he ignored your card and handed over your bag of macarons, swiftly stepping away to prepare your drink.

“Wait, I need to pay—“

“I’ve got you. It’ll just be a few minutes,” he called over his shoulder and got to work.

Your cheeks grew warm.

Why did he have to act so sweet sometimes?

“I mean, I knew you had a girlfriend, but you should’ve told me she was dropping by,” Jake chuckled as he pulled up by Heeseung’s side.

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“She’s not?” Jake questioned.

“But I’m interested in her,” Heeseung clarified while frothing your matcha latte a bit too aggressively.

“Aw,” Jake moped, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, “That’s too bad, she’s kinda….”

When it went silent, Jake playfully glanced over at Heeseung, who was staring him down. He slapped him on the back, “Only messing with you, dude.”

“Right.”

Just as you finished unpacking and settling in at the corner table, Heeseung approached with your matcha latte in hand and set it down in front of you.

“That was quick,” You felt giddy getting the special treatment.

“Give it a try, and let me know if it needs anything.”

You stirred the pretty green liquid with the straw and took a sip, glancing up at Heeseung as you did so. Heeseung bit his lip and tilted his head expectantly.

“It’s perfect.”

“Good, just let me know if you need anything,” He smiled, but before he could leave, you caught his sleeve.

“Wait, have a macaron before you go. Jake gave me a lot,” You randomly chose the dusty pink one that smelled like roses and held it up for him to take.

Instead, he drew close, placing his hand on the back of your chair to steady himself, parted his lips, and waited. You glanced up at him to check if he was joking, but the glimmer in his eye said otherwise.

Woah—

Brain on autopilot, you fed it to him, and he took a bite out of the fresh macaron.

He licked at his lips and smirked at you, “Thanks.”

After he disappeared behind the counter, you dropped your forehead into your hand, flabbergasted. You just knew your face was so red.

This crazy ass—

What, did he expect you to finish the remainder of the macaron?

This was too much for you to handle– Heeseung was too much for you to handle today.

And, of course, you finished it.

Two hours flew by at your table while you were jamming to some nostalgic tunes in your own little world while studying for your upcoming finals.

Feeling the urge to stretch, you took off your headphones and extended your stiff limbs with a wince.

Condensation ran down your empty glass of matcha, and you had finished nibbling on your macarons earlier. Besides the lavender and vanilla flavors you had chosen, the rose one was pretty aromatic, and the other strawberries and cream flavor Jake picked out for you was delicious. The snacks certainly whet your appetite, and now you were more than looking forward to having dinner with Heeseung… at his place.

You peered at Heeseung over the top of your laptop as he kept busy behind the espresso bar; Jake was a very charismatic cashier, as you experienced first-hand, while Heeseung was rather efficient at serving up beverages and hopping in to take orders when needed. They seemed to handle themselves well as a team, as far as you could tell from the past couple of hours.

Girls and guys often wandered in to gawk at the two, and you completely understood why. Nonetheless, it didn’t help the surge of discomfort you felt when you caught two girls checking Heeseung out from behind. There was nothing you could do but seethe in your seat.

Relax. They’re not the ones headed home with him tonight.

Ah, that reminder helped, sort of.

Now you were feeling antsy about the fact that Heeseung had invited you over in the first place. There was no way you prepared in any way, shape or form with how little heads up he gave you, but you couldn’t have easily passed up the opportunity to get a look at his place and spend more time with him.

And if he baked, he had to be a good cook, no?

The chatty girls ended up being the last customers to leave the cafe, except for you in the corner, partially anxious but mostly content because you were alone, and so was Heeseung.

After a quiet period, you were drawn from your studies when a woman who stood out from the average patron strolled into the cafe. She was dressed well enough to convince you that she was a model or at least an influencer of sorts, especially by the confident way she held herself.

Jake welcomed her warmly, and you were about to slip your headphones back on when you heard her speak, “Hello. Does Heeseung work here?”

“Yeah! Do you want me to get him for you? He’s prepping food in the back.”

“Please.”

Who is she? A friend?

Jake made his way to the back kitchens. “Hey, Heeseung! Someone’s here to see you!”

“One sec,” You heard Heeseung call.

The woman stood calmly and patiently at the counter; she appeared to be in her mid-twenties and looked sharp in all-black fashion with a set of alluring, shadowy eyes. An uneasy feeling passed through your stomach at the way she suddenly rolled her shoulders and neck— you couldn’t put a finger on it, but if it involved Heeseung, you didn’t like it.

Heeseung emerged from the kitchen doors, and you became deeply concerned at how his face went stoic upon seeing the mysterious woman. Jake sensed something was off as well and looked back and forth between the two.

“Hi. I hope I caught you at a good time. As you know, I’ve been wanting to chat,” Her tone was overtly sweet.

Heeseung rounded the counter and approached her, dropping his voice to an inaudible murmur.

Whispers were exchanged between them; you focused on trying to read their lips, but it was difficult. They were familiar with each other, that much you could tell. However, they couldn’t have looked like more complete opposites.

Feeling that you were being nosy, you stopped staring and returned to your project at hand, not wanting to overstep any further.

A sharp slap followed by a harsh clatter resounded in the empty cafe, alerting you.

Shocked, your head whipped towards the source of the noise, only to see Heeseung, whose face was angled away from you. Your sights landed on his glasses on the tile floor.

The woman standing in front of him took an easy breath, but the way she flicked her wrist gave away her rage.

Somehow, you were already standing from your seat, crossing the floor, “Excuse me. Did you just–”

The woman kept her eyes trained on Heeseung, “Mind your own business, love.”

Jake jumped in front of you, waving his hands, “Jesus— Easy, easy. I’ll handle this.”

Red filled your vision once your brain registered what had happened, but you had enough sense to stand your ground a safe distance away— for that woman’s sake.

“Get her out of here before I do it myself,” you gritted out.

Jake nodded and was quick to address the woman, “Miss, I’m not sure what’s going on, but you can’t just assault our staff. I’m going to have to ask you to leave immediately due to store policy.”

She eyed you, and her sharp expression slowly morphed into a feigned smile, startling you.

“Just one more thing,” She inclined her chin towards Heeseung, “Then we’ll chat back at my place after you wrap up here, alright, love?”

Heeseung’s gaze flickered at the woman, but he said nothing.

She sauntered up to him, much too close for anyone’s comfort, and reached out to take hold of his chin, her sharp nails gauging into his skin. Stunned, you watched him shut his eyes tightly, how his brows drew together— and then he caught her wrist before she could get any closer.

Heeseung spoke in an extremely deliberate tone, “No. This is the last time I’ll be saying this to you. We’re finished. We’ve been finished. Do you understand?”

As the woman’s fingers curled into a fist, so did yours.

“Leave. If I see you bothering any customers or staff who occupy this space, I’ll let the authorities deal with you,” He warned.

“I’ve taken care of you since we were children, Heeseung.”

The statement took you by surprise.

“We’re done talking,” Heeseung tugged her past you and Jake towards the cafe entrance. She pulled back on his grip, but he remained unfazed.

The two of you watched him take her outside and proceed to lock up the front of the store. Jake quickly followed and began to pull down the blinds as the woman pressed up against the windows. Her eyes slowly dragged over your form in the most demeaning manner.

“Talk about a crazy ex,” Jake murmured to no one in particular, pressing his back against the covered window. You exhaled heavily, speechless at the turn of events.

When you bent over to pick up Heeseung’s glasses and inspect them, you noticed a lens had cracked. One could only imagine how much the slap must’ve stung.

Heeseung touched the small of your back, “I’m really sorry you had to see that.”

Feeling left in the dark, you turned around and gave him a look of confusion, “Exactly how long has it been since you broke up with your ex?”

“Since the start of the semester,” Heeseung answered right away, “This is the first time I’ve seen her since. I don’t know how she found out about my new job.”

“And she still can’t take a hint?” Jake asked while cleaning up behind the register.

“She will now because I’m not entertaining her games.”

You felt relief, but you immediately regretted the question.

What a thing for me to ask after everything that just took place, you thought, ashamed.

“Are you okay?” Your hand was shaky when you reached out to touch his cheek.

His fingers brushed against the back of your hand in reassurance.

“I’m fine. I’ll be better once we get out of here and grab something to eat back at my place,” He managed to give you a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

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