#and this is the result but i quite like it if i'm being honest | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stllmnstr · 2 months ago

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sure thing – part two.

pairing: yang jungwon x f reader

genre: coworkers au, underground boxer jungwon

part two word count: 10.8k

warnings: swearing, descriptions/depictions of physical violence, blood and minor injuries, jealousy, a bit of a love triangle I'M SORRY, a kiss or five

note: aaaand here's part two! thank you to everyone that left a comment/reblog on part one. this is the conclusion to the story. suffer with me while we daydream about blonde boxer jungwon and enjoyyyyy ♡

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An employee in the marketing department of a large company, your days are filled with poorly worded emails, unrealistic deadlines, and passive aggressive friendly reminders from your superiors. On a particularly awful afternoon, a chance encounter with a coworker from the programming department down the hall is the first thing to make you smile in weeks.

But the more you uncover about Yang Jungwon and his mysterious injuries, flimsy excuses, and always occupied Friday nights, the more you begin to realize that you really don’t know him at all.

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PART TWO

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It’s been a while since you felt anything but dread opening your work inbox.

Monday morning, however, the first message that greets you is a reminder of a time when you did. When you used to keep your email tab open just in the hopes that a certain programmer would send you messages about a jammed printer for you to reread a dozen times.

This time, though, excitement is the last thing you feel. It’s curiosity, more than anything, combined with an urgent need to know what the hell happened between your date and your coworker, that has you clicking on the message.

From: [email protected]

Subject: Printer Issue

Good morning, ___.

I hope this message finds you well. I am currently trying to resolve an ongoing issue with the workroom printer and was hoping you would be able to provide some input at your earliest convenience.

Thank you in advance,

Jungwon

Part of you wants to archive the message without responding and let him simmer in your rejection.

But spite has never held much weight against curiosity, and despite your better judgment, you soon find yourself walking towards the shared workroom.

As expected, it’s already occupied. This time, however, Jungwon is leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. The printer, just as you suspected, is in perfect working order.

There’s a fresh bruise on his forehead, and this time, you don’t wonder where it’s from. It makes sense now. The bruises on his knuckles. The cut on his cheekbone. His seemingly intimate knowledge of head injuries that one fateful Monday afternoon he found you in this very room.

They’re all the result of his hidden hobby, you suppose.

As soon as you enter, some of the rigidity seeps out of his stance. Immediately, his arms fall to his sides, expression softening. “___,” he whispers, like he can’t quite believe you actually came.

Where he softens, however, you cage up.

“You have one minute,” you tell him.

“One minute?” He echoes, brow creasing in confusion.

“One minute to explain what happened Saturday night.”

Jungwon sighs. “I’m sorry. Really, I… I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

You don’t say anything. An apology is appreciated, yes, but it’s not an explanation.

With your silence, Jungwon continues, “I was just… caught off guard. I didn’t expect to see you there, and especially not with him.”

He pauses for a moment, biting at his lower lip. “Look, ___. I know it probably isn’t my place, but I don’t think he’s being honest with you. Jay isn’t the person that you think he is, and–”

Your scoff cuts through his words, stopping him in his tracks. “That’s funny,” you interrupt. But humor is the last thing on your mind. “He said the exact same thing about you, you know. But it has to be bullshit. I mean, what could have possibly happened in middle school that two adults with jobs are still hung up on a decade later?”

Jungwon’s lips part in surprise. “He told you about middle school?”

“Why?” you prod. “Is there something to know?”

But now you’re at a stalemate, neither of you willing to disclose what exactly you know.

After another beat, Jungwon sighs. “Look, I’m not trying to tell you what to do–”

“Could have fooled me.”

“But I just want you to be careful, okay? It’s… it’s important to me that you’re safe.”

“Safe?” You scoff. “It was a boxing gym. I don’t know why you’re acting like I was trying to push my way into the ring with you.”

“You don’t get it–”

“No.” You throw your hands in exasperation. “I don’t get it. But you’re not explaining it to me. You’re just being evasive and acting like I’m the one in the wrong. So unless you actually have something of substance to say, I’m done having this conversation.”

“____…”

Already halfway to the exit, the sound of your name is lost on you. It’s bad enough that Jay has yet to reach out to you since last night. You absolutely do not need Jungwon bringing this issue into the office as well.

As if on cue, your phone dings with an incoming message.

Half expecting to see a virtual string of apologies from your coworker, you’re mildly surprised to see a different name instead.

You were right about the apologies, though.

Jay: I’m sorry about last night. You were right about deserving an explanation and I want to give you one. I think this is a conversation we should have in person. Are you free Friday night for dinner?

Friday night. Two nights from now. It’s soon enough that you won’t have to stew in resentment, but will give you both the time and space you need to think.

It doesn’t take you long to consider, but you do wait another long minute before giving him the satisfaction of responding.

You: I’ll plan on Friday.

…..

Friday morning comes with a vengeance.

Already teeming with nervous energy at the prospect of your upcoming date with Jay and the conversation that is sure to ensue, you’re a bit of a mess by the time you arrive at work.

Hair windswept, outfit mismatched, lipstick slightly smudged, you already know you’re in for a long day at the office.

But when you arrive at your desk, you find something that softens the blow, just a bit.

Grace, ever the instigator, is already learning over your cubicle by the time you notice it.

“Whew,” she whistles appreciatively. “Someone’s pulling out all the stops.”

And she’s kind of right. The bouquet sitting front and center on your desk is massive. Overflowing with seasonal flowers that already emit a pleasant fragrance even from where you stand. The vase itself it’s gorgeous, too.

Imbued with a myriad of colors, it reminds you a bit of a stained glass window on a sunny afternoon.

Reaching for the small note tucked at the top, you open the envelope with slightly shaky fingers.

___, it reads.

I wish I had more to give you than an apology, but I’ve been told that flowers are a sure thing when it comes to brightening someone’s day. I hope these are able to do that for you.

– J

Frowning, you read it once. Twice.

Jay has already apologized for the incident from a couple of nights ago, and the timing of this second apology seems odd, given your plans for tonight.

You’re left to stand in your own confusion for a moment longer before a text message vibrates your phone in your pocket.

Reaching for it, the flowers suddenly start to make a lot more sense.

Jay: I am so sorry, but I have to reschedule our plans for tonight. It completely slipped my mind, but my sister’s baby shower is tomorrow morning, and I’ve been voluntold to help set it up. I promise to let you know as soon as I can when I’ll be available

Jay: And again, I am so, so sorry

Sighing, you put your phone back in your bag. You can’t blame him. Not really. His sister’s baby shower is undoubtedly an important event, even if the timing is rather unfortunate for you.

Grace, blissfully unaware of your inner turmoil, is still gushing about your flowers. Turning to you, she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. “So, what are those for? Got a hot date this weekend?”

You sigh, recently canceled plans still dampening your mood. Deciding there’s no harm in telling Grace your woes, you say, “I wish. Jay just had to cancel on me for tonight.”

“No.” Grace gasps. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she was personally affronted. “He better have had a good excuse.”

“He did,” you admit. Unlike someone you know. “Family stuff.”

“Ah,” Grace nods. “I suppose that’s acceptable. Have you rescheduled?”

Frowning at the message you have yet to answer, you shake your head. “Not yet.”

“Mm,” she hums, sensing your disappointment. “I’m sure something just came up at work, and he’ll get back to you soon.”

“Yeah,” you nod hollowly. “I’m sure he will.”

You: I understand. Is there any chance we could meet Saturday evening or afternoon? It’s important to me that we talk about it soon.

It’s not as if you expect an immediate response. Like you, Jay is probably at work for the day. Busy and drowning in deadlines and assignments. Maybe even stuck in a meeting.

But thirty minutes pass. And then an hour. Two.

And your message is still completely unanswered.

The more time that passes, the harder it becomes to shake the funny feeling that starts to build in your gut. It builds and builds and builds, all the way until closing time.

And Jay still hasn’t texted you back.

That’s annoying enough all on its own, but there’s something else that just isn’t adding up.

You can’t quite put your finger on it, the thing that’s bothering you so much. But even as you make your way towards after clocking out for the day, something still doesn’t sit right with you. Opening your message thread again, you reread Jay’s last text.

Jay: … my sister’s baby shower is tomorrow morning, and I’ve been voluntold to help set it up.

Sister’s baby shower.

That’s what’s been bothering you. Because unless Jay’s sister is just finishing the shortest known pregnancy in human history, he’s lying to you.

You remember it now. The first time Grace mentioned Jay to you. She had just seen him for the first time since he moved back home.

At his older sister’s baby shower.

Sitting in your car, you scoff out loud in disbelief. The ice he treads on has been dangerously thin since your run in with Jungwon at the boxing gym, and he had the audacity to lie?

Part of you wants to catch him in it. For your own confirmation and for the satisfaction of not letting him get away with trying to pull a fast one on you. But you need an excuse. Some reason to seek him out and find him where he isn’t supposed to be.

Racking your brain, you try to think of a plausible explanation for turning up at his house tonight.

Still sitting in the parking lot, a car turns past you, headlights shining in through your windshield in a way that makes you squint.

In a way that reflects off of the tiny piece of metal jammed in the crevice next to your cupholder. Frowning, you reach down, tugging at it until it’s freed from its confines.

You’re not sure what divine forces are working in your favor, but you make a mental note to properly thank them later. Because clutched between your fingers is Jay’s missing ring. The one that he’s been looking for since he messaged you about it last week.

It’s perfect, you think. An absolutely perfect excuse to drop by his house, even if you should be under the impression that he’s not there at the moment.

Turning the piece of jewelry between your fingers, your eyes catch on an inscription on the inner band. Squinting, you can just make it out.

2013.11.13 King Pen

You’re pretty sure the numbers are a date. November 13, 2013, to be exact. But King Pen. You have no idea what that is.

It sounds like it could be related to boxing, maybe. Pulling out your phone, you do a quick online search.

The results that flood your screen are mostly generic, nothing that gives you any real leads. You try a few different search combinations, including the date and finally, the name of your city.

That does send an old article to the top of your search results. Something published in a local newspaper in 2007.

Clicking on the link, you scan the article for anything relevant.

Samuel Kang, one line towards the beginning reads, shared his plans to open a boxing gym right here in the city. Although there are other similar gyms in nearby towns, this would be the first gymnasium dedicated solely to boxing in the area.

You skip down a few more lines.

When asked if he knows what he’d like to call his project, Kang just smiles and nods his head. “King Pen,” he tells us. “I plan to call it King Pen.”

You frown. Your earlier search is proof enough that King Pen never came to fruition. As a final attempt at getting some answers, you type Samuel Kang into the search bar instead.

This time, the first article that pops up does carry an air of familiarity. Clicking on it, you confirm your suspicion.

Samuel Kang, as it turns out, never opened a boxing gym called King Pen. But he did open one called Kang’s Gym.

Looking through the photo gallery, the weightlifting equipment appears to have been in much better shape in 2008 than it was a couple of weeks ago. But even though the paint was still bright and the training pads were fully intact, it is undoubtedly the same exact gym.

There’s no reason for you to go there now. If anything, you should just drive straight to Jay’s house. But something still doesn't sit right with you.

Why does Jay’s ring say King Pen instead of Kang’s Gym? Especially since it’s dated five whole years after the gym opened under its actual name.

Besides, the gym is on your way to Jay’s apartment. If anything, it’s just a quick pit stop. A confirmation that you’re not going crazy.

Putting your car in drive, you set the ring on your passenger seat and drive out of the parking lot.

It’s already dark by the time you’re pulling into Kang’s Gym. Switching your car off, you remove your key from the ignition.

Your automatic headlights still illuminate the strangely full parking lot in front of you. Frowning, you wonder why so many people are here. Even the night that you came with Jay, the parking lot wasn’t nearly this full, and yet, most of the boxing rings inside were occupied.

Stepping out of your car, you close the door behind you softly. You’re not sure why you’re overcome with the urge to tiptoe. It’s not like you need to sneak around. You’re not doing anything wrong, after all.

But the whole thing feels strange, has you on edge. You make it only a few steps before your eyes land on a familiar car.

“Sister’s baby shower, my ass,” you whisper out loud to no one. Unless she decided to celebrate her new child at a run down boxing gym, Jay is absolutely lying to you. Because that’s his sleek black car, right in front of you. You’d recognize it anywhere.

And a few rows down, you confirm your other suspicion. You’ve never seen him drive it, but you have seen that particular navy blue SUV in the office parking garage before. Jungwon. You’re sure it’s him.

For a moment, you hesitate. It might be easier, cleaner, to just take a picture of Jay’s car and send it to him. After all, that would get your point across clearly enough. Especially if you block him afterwards.

But he’s been evasive about everything related to this place since he first brought you here. And he’s not the only one.

Eyes falling to Jungwon’s car, you decide that catching Jay in a lie isn’t the only thing you want to do tonight.

You want answers.

So the picture you take of Jay’s car remains unsent for now. Instead, you hike your bag a little further up your shoulder and continue walking in the direction of the gym.

Nearing the door, you brace yourself to be met with the large crowd that surely waits inside. Judging from the parking lot, this place must be near full capacity. But as you push through the unlocked door, the gym is completely and entirely empty.

Eerily so.

All around you, workout equipment and boxing rings sit untouched, devoid of life. There isn’t so much as a sound to disturb the uncanny silence.

Frowning, your brow creases in deep confusion. Nothing about this makes any sense.

But you didn’t come all the way here to add to your pile of questions. Instead, you push forward, past the rows of boxing rings towards the locker room where Jay left his bag a handful of nights ago.

It feels wrong to open the men’s locker room. But if no one is here, then surely it couldn’t hurt. Warily, you start to crack open the door, inch by inch.

The locker room, to your unending puzzlement, is just as empty as the rest of the gym.

You’re about to turn back to search the rest of the gym when you notice it. Just across from you, behind the first set of empty lockers. There’s another door.

It’s probably nothing, you tell yourself, even as your feet carry you closer and closer. It probably just leads to a storage closet or a boiler room or–

Pushing the door open, the first thing you’re met with is sound.

Voices. Loud voices. Lots and lots of them. In your surprise, you drop the door, and it clicks shut again.

Immediately, the sound stops. Plunged in silence again, it’s all you can do to not gasp.

Soundproof, you realize. It’s soundproof. And not just the locker room. The entire gym was dead silent until you opened this door.

This time, when you push it open, you expect the cacophonous cheers that greet you. You’re still too far away to make out what anyone is saying. Right now, it all blends into a wall of sound.

Vision is of little help, too. The only thing you see when you open the door is a staircase. In the low light, all you can tell is that it leads down.

Hoping that you’re not currently making the stupidest decision of your life, you place one tentative foot on the first step. Follow it with your other foot. And then you let the door close behind you, plunging you into complete darkness.

Immediately, a surge of panic claws at your throat. The lack of light, combined with the sheer volume of cheers and shouts, is enough to have you crawling in your skin.

Reaching blindly for the door handle behind you, you decide that sending Jay a picture of his car will have to be satisfying enough. But no matter how hard you try to twist the doorknob, it won’t budge.

No. No.

You’re trapped. Effectively locked in.

As the reality of the situation sinks in, you feel the pit of your stomach begin to drop.

Part of you wants to just stay in place, wait for whatever’s going on to end and hope that a stroke of luck will set you free. But then another thought occurs to you.

What if this is the only entrance?

You don’t know how many people are down there, but if the sound and parking lot are anything to go by, it’s a lot.

You’re sure that Jay and Jungwon are among them, but still…

Both of their warnings start to come back to you.

“He’s not who you think he is…”

“I just want you to be careful…”

“It’s important to me that you’re safe…”

Is this what they were talking about? Is this why Jungwon was so angry with Jay for bringing you here? Not because he didn’t want you to see a boxing gym, but because that’s not what this place is at all?

The more you mull it over, the more it starts to make sense.

Still submerged in darkness, you decide that the only way you’ll confirm anything is by moving forward. Slowly, you reach for your phone, turning the flashlight on its lowest setting.

Keeping it clutched in your hands in case you need to shut it off at a moment’s notice, you begin to walk, descending down the staircase.

After two flights on uneven steps, you start to see a light in the distance, a clue that you’re getting closer. And with every step you take, the voices only get louder and louder.

On the third landing, you’re given two choices: continue down the stairs or move into a hallway that stretches to your left. Deciding that staying as far away from the crowd as you can is likely your best option, you opt for the hallway.

You’ve barely walked a few feet when you nearly stumble into a wall. It’s not the end though – just a corner. The light from your phone confirms that the hallway takes a sharp turn.

Following it, you come to another door. This time, you’re even more hesitant. There could be people on the other side.

Pressing your ear against it, the only thing you hear is the same scrambled shouting, the same boisterous crowd. It’s hard to tell for certain, but you don’t hear anything that makes you think there’s someone waiting on the other side.

Slowly, carefully, you begin to open the door.

The sudden light is nearly blinding. It takes your eyes a moment to adjust, but once they do, your mouth drops open.

You were right, thankfully. The small room you enter is mercifully empty.

But it’s also lined with windows that give you a direct view into the room one level beneath you. Jaw dropping, you take in the scene below.

There must be at least five hundred people crammed into the stands that encircle the room. All of them are on their feet, shouting jeers and cheering with equal fervor.

And in the center of it all is a boxing ring. On the side that faces you, bold letters give it a name:

King Pen.

It’s empty for now, but you’re only left wondering for another handful of seconds before a middle aged man steps into the center, microphone in hand. With an open palm, he gestures towards the crowd, commanding them to listen.

Whoever he is, he holds weight here. With the flick of his hand, literally, the room all but falls silent.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he says into the microphone. “Next up is the fight we’ve all been waiting for.”

He pauses for a moment as more cheers and shouts fill the room.

“I hope your bets are placed, because these two always manage to surprise us. Please welcome our first challenger to the ring. Back to the city for the first time in years, it’s Jaan!”

But it’s not Jaan. Or at least, it’s not someone you know as Jaan.

No, it’s Jay. The same Jay that took you to an art exhibition and convinced you to try sweet coffee instead of your usual bitter black. The same Jay that flirts with you over text and whispers sweet nothings in your ear after a long day of work.

The same Jay that lied to you about why he had to cancel your date tonight.

The crowd has barely died down when the man presses on, “And your second challenger, the reigning champion… Please give your warmest welcome for Jakah!”

The alias booms around you, echoing through the room. And of course it’s him. Of course Jakah, the reigning champion, is someone you used to think would have trouble hurting a fly.

Someone you thought embodied gentleness, patience, with every ounce of his being.

But no matter how badly you want to deny it, no matter how much the cognitive dissonance wars inside your brain, it’s him.

It’s Jungwon who enters from the other side of the ring.

“Now, remember,” the man addresses the audience again. “Cheer for your favorite. Scream at his opponent. And don’t forget our golden rule: in the King’s Pen,” he begins.

“Anything goes,” the audience shouts back in unison.

Anything? Your heart falls from your throat to the pit of your stomach. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Jay is here, that he lied to you, that he’s fighting Jungwon.

Taking a closer look at the ring beneath you, you notice the odd, rust colored stains that nearly cover it.

Blood, you realize after a sickening moment. The ring is covered in blood stains.

It makes sense, suddenly, why King Pen didn’t appear in any search results. Why this entire place is completely soundproofed. Why Jungwon wanted you to stay far, far away.

This isn’t a sparring match. It’s a duel.

One where, like the audience just affirmed, anything goes.

As the man steps out from the center of the ring, Jay and Jungwon start to circle each other, fists raised in anticipation.

Even from a distance, you can see the tight coil of muscle in their shoulders, the way their bodies prepare for the inevitable fight.

“Say it with me now, folks,” the man booms, now standing on the side of the ring.

“Three.” Jay’s eyes narrow, fists rising an inch higher.

“Two.” Jungwon flicks a stray strand of hair out of his eyes.

“One.” You feel your last bit of breath whoosh out from your lungs.

“Fight.”

It’s like a dance, you think. A sickening, deadly dance that you can’t look away from no matter how much you want to.

Despite your lack of knowledge, it quickly becomes apparent to you why this is the main event of the evening.

Where Jay is sheer, brutal strength, Jungwon is all evasion. He moves with the agility of an athlete, the lightness of a dancer.

He makes it look easy, the way he ducks beneath carefully timed swings and always seems to predict what Jay will do next.

But even dancers stumble sometimes.

You can’t help it, the gasp that slips out when one of Jay’s punches lands true. You watch, horrified, as Jungwon staggers backwards, adding to the crimson stains on the floor of the ring.

Slightly dazed, he brings the back of his palm to the broken skin along his cheekbone, assessing the damage. When he brings it in front of his face, it comes back red.

Jay takes no pity on his opponent. Following his retreat, he aims for another bruising blow. This one hits Jungwon just beneath the ribs. Echoes around the makeshift stadium with a dull thud you hear even from your hiding place.

Again, Jungwon’s sure steps falter.

The rise and fall of his chest is rapid as he struggles to catch his breath. But when he looks up again, there’s a fire in his eyes. Pure, unadulterated hatred that permeates the scant distance between him and his rival and sends a shiver down the length of your spine.

Not one to take things lying down, Jungwon takes advantage of Jay’s momentary lapse in focus.

His fist connects with the bridge of Jay’s nose with a sickening crunch. Head falling backward, the immediate flow of blood is gruesome. It drip down his chin, landing on the floor beneath him in an arrhythmic pattern.

There’s little grace to it now. Gone are the remaining fragments of inhibition as both boys put away their judgment and leave the rest to instinct.

It’s messy, sloppy, angry.

They’re so close; it’s hard to tell which blows come from who. Hard to tell whose wounds are multiplying faster, whose blood is falling more freely.

And then, just when you think you can’t stomach watching any longer, it’s done.

It’s so fast. You can’t quite be sure how it happens. But one second, both boys are standing, and the next, Jay is flat on his back, Jungwon hovering above him.

Still, the crowd is silent. Everyone’s eyes are on the ring.

Jay is down. Trapped beneath his opponent, it’s clear to you who the victory is. But then you remember the words the crowd chanted at the beginning of the fight.

Anything goes.

Your stomach twists with nausea.

Even from here, you can see the tension that still strains the muscles along Jungwon’s back. The rigidity of his shoulders.

For a moment, you think he’s going to do it. To strike again, even though victory is already in his hands.

You see his lips move with words you can’t hear. Beneath him, Jay remains stoic. There’s still fight in his eyes, even if it’s been drained from his body.

Jungwon’s mouth moves again.

This time, Jay nods. It’s a tiny movement, barely perceptible. But it’s enough.

With an agitated flair, Jungwon stands again.

Blood is still dripping from his face, his knuckles. Sweat covers his body, drenches his hair.

He’s won, yes, but the expression on his features is not one of satisfaction.

ARound him, the audience begins to boo, throwing jeers and insults like extra change. They were hoping for more than a fight. They were hoping for cruelty Jungwon isn’t willing to give.

Without a second glance back, he turns and leaves the ring.

Still reeling, you nearly jump out of your skin when the handle on the door to your room begins to turn.

If you had a stronger grip on your sense of logic, you would do something. Try to hide. Scramble to think of an excuse for your presence.

The door opens before you do any of it.

“Oh,” Heeseung says, eyes widening as he finds the room already occupied. And then it registers with him who exactly is already occupying said room. “Oh,” he repeats. “He is not going to be happy about this.”

…..

Heeseung’s fist rings out against the door in three sharp raps. For a moment, silence is the only response. And then–

“I’m not in the mood.”

“Uh,” Heeseung glances at you sideways. “I think you should open the door anyway.”

“I’m serious.” Jungwon’s voice is pure ire. “I’m not doing this with you right now, Heeseung.”

“Okay,” Heeseung concedes. “But I really still think you should open the–”

“What?”

Jungwon’s glare lands on his friend before his gaze slides to you. Immediately, his features slacken in surprise. “Oh.”

And it’s stupid, foolish, naive. But the first thing you feel when you see him standing on his own two feet is pure, unadulterated relief.

He’s injured. It’s obvious from the wounds that line his face and the way his breath is still shallow in his chest. But he’s okay.

He’s here and he’s in front of you and he’s okay.

“Yeah,” Heeseung repeats. “Like I said, I think you should–”

“Go away.”

“What?” Heeseung balks. “Where am I supposed to–”

“Away,” Jungwon reiterates, eyes still locked on you.

Heeseung is sulking, but he follows Jungwon’s command regardless. And then it’s just the two of you.

You both speak at the same time, near identical questions overlapping with one another.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Why are you here?”

A beat of silence passes. Another.

As if he is suddenly remembering your surroundings, Jungwon looks around you, a new urgency in his gaze. You don’t know what kind of consequences places like this carry, but common sense tells you it’s best that you’re not seen. “Come in,” he opens the door a bit wider, giving you space to enter.

You shouldn’t. He hasn’t lied to you, not exactly, but it’s not like he’s been particularly honest either.

And coworkers don’t owe you the truth or the nitty gritty details of their lives, but it’s been a long time since Jungwon and you treated one another like coworkers. No matter what you want to call it, the relationship that you’ve built between conversations in the workroom and email threads and kind gestures in the office feels a lot more like friendship. Or at the very least some iteration of it.

So you’re not mad at him for keeping this from you, not really.

But other emotions are swirling in your gut, and you don’t know what to do with them. Most of all, you’re worried. For his safety. For his wellbeing. For him.

Obeying his command, you step inside the small room. You hear the door click shut behind you.

Looking around, there isn’t much to see. It’s a locker room, essentially, designed for one person. There’s a counter to your left with a small first aid kit and a chair in the far corner of the room.

A gym bag, Jungwon’s you assume, rests next to it.

And, of course, there’s the two of you.

Glancing up, you take a look at him. A long, real look.

He’s wearing the same clothes he entered the ring with. A white athletic shirt that moves with him, gives his long, lean muscles space to move. To flex and contract with every shallow breath.

He’s still just as gorgeous as always, even with a split lip and a nasty cut that spans the length of his temple. Even with the bruising that’s already begun to discolor his near flawless skin.

Sighing, you nod towards the chair behind him. “Sit down.”

“What?” Confusion draws his brow downward, and he hisses in pain at the movement.

“Don’t tell me your illegal fights have ruined your hearing too.”

“What? No.” Jungwon shakes his head. “My hearing is perfectly fine, I mean.”

“Then sit.” You glance pointedly at the chair again. “Down.”

This time, he doesn’t try to argue. You watch from your periphery, frowning at the slight limp in his left leg as he walks toward the chair, easing himself down.

Reaching for the first aid kit on the counter, you bring it with you as you move across the room.

Your steps are slow and even. They carry you all the way to the far corner, until you’re forced to stop.

Standing above Jungwon, your lips pull into a tight line as you begin to assess his injuries. Hesitation might be wise, but you can’t find any of it left in you.

Your movements are sure, gentle but firm. Hands sliding to his jaw, you adjust his face slightly, turning the gash on his temple towards the light. It’s an echo of the way he examined you in the workroom, long weeks ago.

This time, it’s him that’s easily manipulable underneath your touch.

“What are you doing?” He whispers.

Your hesitation is gone, but so is your patience. “Don’t talk.” Jungwon’s lips fall shut. He’s pliant in your hands as you adjust him.

Reaching for the kit, the first thing you pull out is antiseptic cream.

“This might sting,” you whisper.

“It’s okay,” he assures you. But he hisses at the contact all the same. “Doesn’t even hurt,” he lies through gritted teeth, forcing a smile.

If he’s trying to be funny, his attempt at humor is lost on you.

Gaze still narrowed in concentration, you busy yourself by cleaning the worst of his wounds first.

As you move from his forehead to his lip, you don’t think you imagine the sharp inhale he draws between parted lips.

“It stings?” You ask him.

“Just a bit.” You feel the ghost of his whisper against your fingertips.

You look up for a moment, and you find his gaze already locked on yours. It takes a significant portion of your willpower to stop yourself from reaching up to brush his hair from his eyes.

It feels wrong, even if you call it friendship. Even if you and Jay never discussed exclusivity.

Your heart is fluttering, and that’s what makes it all seem so illicit.

With no small amount of effort, you force your eyes down again. Standing above him, your fingers move from his face to his hands. His wrist clasped in your fingers, you sink to your knees in front of him.

Jungwon swallows audibly.

Pulling his hand closer, you examine the series of shallow cuts, of angry, violet bruises that line his knuckles. With another long sigh, you reach for the cream again, applying it generously before carefully wrapping it in a bandage.

After giving the same attention to the other hand, you lean back, assessing your handiwork.

For a moment, neither of you moves. You’re still kneeling in front of him. He still sits above you.

And then, after a breath of hesitation, one carefully wrapped hand finds its way to your face.

Gently, with a touch so light you hardly feel it, he lays his open palm against the expanse of your cheek. Cradles it.

He whispers your name, and you can’t find it in you to look up.

“I don’t…” you trail off, not sure how to communicate the swirling mix of emotions simmering just beneath the surface. “I don’t want to be mad at you.”

“But you are,” Jungwon assumes. He accepts it, and he doesn’t let it change anything. His hand is steady against your cheek. His thumb starts to draw small circles, just under your earlobe.

“I’m not,” you correct. “But this isn’t…” again your words die. It’s frustrating, the way you feel like you can never be straightforward with him. The way you always feel like you have to navigate through subtext and half truths and partial reveals just to get a point across.

“But you don’t owe me anything right now.”

His thumb stills against your skin.

“We’re coworkers,” you continue. “We’re just coworkers, so it doesn’t matter if you fight in illegal boxing matches. You don’t have to worry about what I think of it, and I don’t have to be mad at you for it.”

You do look up at him, begging for a bit of his understanding. “You can be evasive with your excuses and reject all of my invitations. We can meet by chance in the workroom on Monday afternoons, and none of it ever has to mean anything. Neither of us ever has to feel anything about it.”

“But,” Jungwon whispers.

“Yeah,” you nod. Your cheek slides easily against the soft skin of his bruised hand. “But.”

Jungwon is silent for a moment, eyes darting between both of yours. Then, tentatively, he asks, “Are you mad at him?”

He doesn’t say Jay’s name, but the venom he wraps around the word is all you need to know who he’s talking about.

You shake your head, eyelids fluttering. “We’re coworkers.” You reiterate the boundaries he’s always maintained with you. “You don’t get to ask me that.”

Jungwon’s hand slides to your neck, thumb tracing the length of your jaw now. “And if I want to?”

You shake your head again. You can only give him so much on a silver platter. If he wants anything to change, he’ll have to find a bit of his own bravery. “That’s not the question you need to ask me.” Looking up at him, you draw another line. “And not tonight.”

You’ve both been through enough. Heightened emotions rarely lead to good decisions, and the last thing you want is his indecisiveness. His impulsivity.

Quietly, you stand, his hand falling from your face as you rise to full height in front of him.

His eyes look wider from this angle, from above. Even shinier than usual. No matter how many boundaries you draw or how many ways you deny him, he’s someone that’s hard to say no to. Hard to walk away from.

Steeling the last remnants of your resolve, you manage to look him in those dark, sparkling eyes when you tell him, “Good night, Jungwon.”

“Good night, ___,” he whispers to your retreating silhouette.

Closing the door behind you, you barely have a moment to catch your breath before a voice interrupts your wandering thoughts.

“You like him, don’t you?”

The gasp you give is out of shock more than anything. And the “What?” you ask is a knee jerk reaction.

“Yang.” Jay materializes from his position in the darkness, jerking his chin towards the door behind you. “You like him.”

Immediately, you find yourself on the defense. Even if you’re just delaying the inevitable, it’s cagey when you tell him. “We work together.”

Jay just looks at you. “My favorite color is green.”

“What?”

“Sorry,” Jay’s tone is flat. He’s not annoyed, but he’s coming close to it. “I thought we were stating irrelevant facts.”

With a sigh, he drags an open palm down his face. “I know you work together. But you like him, too," he sighs again, reading the horror in your expression. Mostly due to the fact that he read you like an open book when you thought you were keeping your feelings close to the chest. “I’m not… mad. It sucks, but it’s not like I was honest with you either. I’m sorry, by the way, for lying about tonight.”

It’s too much to process, all at once. Your head is swimming and your heart is pounding.

It was a shitty thing to do, yes, but–

“You don’t have to say sorry–”

Again, Jay doesn’t let you finish. “I’m not saying sorry because I have to. I’m saying it because I am. I like you.” He’s so honest. So blunt with his feelings. He makes things so easy. “I like spending time with you. I think we both know that’s not enough anymore,” he casts another meaningful glance at the door behind him. The one that leads to Jungwon’s locker room, “but it’s still true.”

“I…” you trail off, unsure what to say. He’s not wrong. In fact, he’s all but hit the nail right on the head. With deadly accuracy.

Heeseung was the one that found you, that brought you to Jungwon, but still.

It’s not Jay that you checked in on fist. It’s not Jay whose wounds you just cleaned. It’s not Jay who you’re thinking about now.

Like he said, it sucks, but it’s still true.

Jay has bruises, too. Has cuts that line his knuckles and his jaw. He’s here because he’s part of an illegal underground boxing ring. He lied to you about it.

But you just… you’re not mad at him about it. And that’s the final nail in the coffin.

Jay just looks at you for a moment longer. For the third time, he sighs. “You’re really gonna make me do this part too?” He inhales, steeling his resolve. “Okay, then. ___, I think we should–”

“I think we should stop seeing each other,” you finish for him. You can give him at least that much. “I had a great time getting to know you, but I think we want different things right now. I wish you all the best. Really, you’re a great guy, Jay.”

He is.

“I mean it.”

You do.

“Thank you, ___.”

He means it too.

When Jay walks away from you, his shoulders are straight and his head is high.

You feel a lot of things, as you watch his retreating figure.

But no matter how deep you search, regret isn’t one of them.

…..

Monday morning brings with it a distinct sort of dread.

Partly because it marks the beginning of another long week. Mostly because going back to the office means potentially seeing him.

If you’re honest with yourself, you’re not sure if you’re ready for that. If you’re ready to face the feelings you’ve been forcing down for months and the potential fallout they may bring with them.

So, when you open your inbox first thing in the morning, an unreasonable request from your supervisor isn’t the thing you’re most afraid of finding.

Jungwon, however, isn’t planning to stick to old routines. When he seeks you out, he does it in person.

Grace’s eyes are anywhere but on her own work when he walks through the door of the marketing department half past ten.

“___,” he breathes.

The wounds on his face are already fading, hardly even noticeable. You wish you could say the same for the turmoil raging inside of you. You can’t decide if you want to throw your arms around his neck or tell him to fuck off.

In the end, you just look at him blankly.

“Can we…” he trails off, visibly frustrated. He isn’t sure how to do this either. “Can you help me with something? In the workroom. I think the printer is acting up again.”

The printer is fine. You used it five minutes ago.

But he’s not asking you to help him with work or the printer or anything else. He’s asking for a bit of your time, a fraction of your understanding.

It’s messy. It has so much potential for heartbreak, for complication.

But he’s here and he’s looking at you like your answer means the world to him. Like he might forget how to breathe if you don’t say yes.

So, with a rising bout of uncertainty, you tell him, “Let’s go take a look at it.”

The printer, just as you suspected, is in perfect working order. Jungwon doesn’t even spare it a second look.

Instead, he closes the door to the workroom behind you. And then he says, “I started boxing when I was a kid. I think I was eight, nine maybe.”

“What are you–”

“Just listen,” Jungwon begs. “Please.”

You want to protest. You’re not sure why, but the urge is strong. But after a moment of warring with yourself, you finally nod, giving him permission to continue.

“It was just a hobby. Something to keep me busy on long afternoons when both of my parents were working in the restaurant my family owned. But I kept at it, and they could see how much I enjoyed it. By the time I was ten, my mom enrolled me in actual classes.”

Jungwon smiles, reminiscing on the tidbits of a happy childhood. But then his smile starts to falter. “A few months later, my grandpa died. It wasn’t a surprise exactly, but it did have some unexpected consequences on the business. My family started to struggle. With money, more than anything.”

He sighs, and your heart hurts for a past version of him, too young to make sense of all of the sudden changes in his life. “I had to quit taking lessons. I kept practicing on my own, though. And when I started middle school, there was a free boxing club I joined. I met a lot of my friends there. Heeseung, who you met the other night, along with a few others. I also met Jay.”

Jungwon’s lips pull into a line. “I didn’t hate him. Not exactly. He was nice enough, and we had a lot in common. But he had everything that I wanted. Money, mostly. His family never had to worry about it. He could take private lessons and always had all the nicest gear. He didn’t flaunt it, but I noticed. And I envied him for it.”

Looking back at you, he continues, “Heeseung was the one that found the King Pen. He was like me, in a way. His family didn’t come from money. We were young, too young, but we were good. We made them money, so they let us fight. Jay found out and wanted in too. It didn’t matter that he didn’t need the prize money. He just wanted to prove that he was better than us. That he was the best. It was me and him in my very first championship fight. He won, and I hated him for it.”

The ring, you realize. Jay’s ring that he dropped in your car. It was a championship ring.

Jungwon looks down at his hands. The bandages that you put there. “He moved away once high school started. We didn’t keep in direct contact or anything, but I always heard about him. Jay and his international boxing titles. Jay and his new sponsorship deal with a major boxing gym. It just added fuel to the fire that was already there. Made me resent him more, even if it wasn’t his fault.”

No matter how you spin it, you can’t imagine any of that was easy to deal with. Especially as a teenager.

“With him gone, though, I started to make real money fighting. Good money. I lied to my parents and told them I got a part time job. Moving cargo so that they wouldn’t be too suspicious when I came home with bruises.”

Jungwon flexes his fingers. “Boxing became my saving grace. I could give a good chunk of my earnings to my family, and the rest of it, I saved. It put me through university. Let me earn my programming degree.”

You understand him a bit more, then. Why he never seemed annoyed by his job. Why even things like jammed printers never seemed to get to him. He’s thankful for where he is. Has nothing but gratitude for his job when he earned it with years of his own blood, sweat, and tears.

“I have a steady income now, but it’s just… hard, I guess. To let that part of me go. And if I’m honest, part of me has always been afraid too. I mean, my parents had a steady income until they didn’t, you know? I like knowing that even if something happens here, I’ll still be able to support myself. And them.”

It makes sense. It does.

“And then Jay came back.” Jungwon scoffs. “He’d barely been in town for a full twenty-four hours when he showed up at Kang’s with all of his fancy gear and asked to be added to the roster for the next round of fights. And then he showed up there with you and I… I thought I was actually going to lose it.”

Even now, Jungwon’s shoulders are visibly tense. “The actual gym is usually fine, safe for outsiders, but still. He shouldn’t have risked your safety like that. He should have known better. And I…” Jungwon trails off again.

You don’t think you’re imagining the slight tinge of pink that starts to color his cheekbones.

“I was already having a bad enough time with the fact that you were seeing someone. When it turned out to be him, I just… Well, you know.”

Jungwon takes a deep breath in, releases a long exhale.

“I don’t like making bets, and I don’t like situations I can’t predict. Things I don’t have control over. I guess that’s part of the reason why I always liked boxing so much. In the ring, I feel like I have a say in what happens. That even if I lose, it’s because I didn’t move fast enough. I didn’t think quick enough. Things I have control over. Things I can get better at.”

Jungwon looks at you. “I hate guessing. I hate having to wonder. I like sure things.”

His chest is rising and falling a little faster now. Your breath is just as shallow.

“What are you saying?” you ask him.

“I’m saying that I don’t just want to be coworkers with you. I want you to be mad at me for fighting in illegal underground boxing matches.” Jungwon’s gaze is imploring, pleading for your understanding as his eyes search yours. “I want you to call me when the printer jams and when you have a hard day and when you want someone to go to a stupid work event with you on a Friday night.”

He takes a step closer to you, and you feel your spine press against the door of the workroom.

“I want you to be a sure thing,” he breathes, “even if everything about you – the way I feel about you, the thoughts I have about you, the things I want to do to you – have always felt out of my control.”

“Oh.” Your voice is small. Your mouth is dry. Caged in against the door, words are suddenly a hard thing to come by.

“Oh,” Jungwon echoes. “Is that a yes?”

He’s even closer now. Nose brushing against yours, he interlaces the fingers of his less injured hand with yours, reaching up until your hands are intertwined above your head.

“No,” you shake your head.

“Mm,” Jungwon hums, and you feel the vibration travel the length of your spine, settling somewhere deep, just beneath your navel. His lips brush against the corner of your mouth when he asks, “It’s a no, then?”

Again, you shake your head. Trapped in his embrace, the movement is tiny, restricted. Sends goosebumps scattering across your skin everywhere the two of you are touching.

“An oh is just an oh,” you tell him. “This is a yes.”

There isn’t any distance to close. Just pressure to add. He accepts it willingly, even if the sudden contact against the still broken skin of his bottom lip has him releasing a hiss through his teeth.

It’s a discomfort he gets over quickly. His other hand, the one not currently tangled with yours, relocates to the curve of your jaw before he’s doubling down, pain all but forgotten as his lips part against yours.

A repeated motion. A rhythm that’s stilted at first but starts to feel natural the longer you continue.

Over and over. Again and again until the action starts to feel useless. Until you’re not quite sure where his breath ends and yours begin.

You’re in the office workroom, pressed against the door, and the printer is starting to beep in protest.

You’re sure you’ll be thoroughly embarrassed when you inevitably leave long minutes later with mussed hair and swollen lips and a certain programmer trailing behind you that can’t contain his self-satisfied smile.

But for now, you get what he means. It feels good. It feels like relief, to finally know where you stand with him.

So instead of worrying about what your supervisor will think of your mussed collar and smudged lipstick, you pull him down a little firmer by the back of the neck, fingers tangling in the hair along his nape.

You sigh into his mouth, and the fervor he returns with leaves you well and truly breathless.

And for once, it feels like a sure thing.

…..

epilogue

Jungwon: SOS

Jungwon: Babyyyyyyyy

Jungwon: I know you’re reading my messages

Jungwon: PLEASE ___ I really need your help

You: I’m BUSY what do you need

Jungwon: The printer is jammed again

You: And what do you want me to do about that? Call maintenance

Jungwon: Oh please

Jungwon: Last time I called maintenance they sent a guy that couldn’t tell A4 from A3 this is not the job for them

Jungwon: Plus they don’t have the magic touch like you

You: Literally what are you talking about

You: The last time I tried to fix the printer, I broke it so bad it was out of commission for two whole weeks

You: The entire floor was mad at me

You: I had to buy Grace coffee every day for TWO WEEKS

Jungwon: PLEASEEEEEE

Jungwon: Just try once and if it doesn’t work I’ll call maintenance

Jungwon: I promise

You: …

You: FINE

You: On my way

Tucking your phone back into your pocket, you sigh. The workroom door opens with little resistance, but as soon as you step inside, you frown.

Jungwon, for starters, is nowhere to be seen.

And the printer, at least from first impressions, appears to be working just fine. Completely jam-free.

You’re not left in the dark for long. A moment later, the door opens behind you.

Tumbling in like an overexcited kitten, your boyfriend looks all too enthused to be dealing with a supposed jammed printer.

Gesturing towards the machine in question, you frown at him. “What were you talking about? The printer is perfectly f–”

He cuts you off with the press of his lips against your own, pushing you backwards until you run into the printer, spine arching against the copier tray.

“Jungwon,” you protest once he finally lets you up for air. “It’s like you want HR to start a case against us. You have got to stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” He feigns innocence, even as he leans in again for another long kiss.

“Mm,” you mumble, breaking free again. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Faking printer emergencies as an excuse to make out. We’re at work.”

Jungwon leans back, but the only thing he uses the space for is to let himself scan you from head to toe. Biting his bottom lip, he runs a set of fingers through the hair that falls across his forehead. “You know, you’re a really terrible liar.”

“I’m not ly–”

“If you actually wanted me to stop, you wouldn’t fall for it every.” He presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Single.” The top of your cheekbone. “Time.” The corner of your mouth.

And you hate to admit it, but he kind of has you there.

“Whatever.” You pout, but he just uses it as an excuse to plant another long kiss on your pursed lips. “I’m serious, Jungwon,” you tell him, even if you’re just as breathless as he is, despite the fact that you’re actively pulling him in by the back of his neck. “This has to be the last time.”

“Mm,” he smiles against your lips. “Sure thing, ___.”

…..

outtake — seven months ago.

The tinted window of Jungwon’s secondhand car is hardly an ideal mirror, but he’ll have to make it work.

Giving himself a final once over, he straightens his already immaculate tie. Tugs at the collar of his button down shirt so that it lays just a little bit nicer, the edges of the folds just a fraction of a millimeter sharper.

Bending slightly, he smooths down his hair, pushing it away from his eyes. Catching his reflection again, he suddenly has second thoughts about the version of himself that he sees.

Bleaching his hair had seemed like a good – no, great – idea a few weeks ago. But now, dressed in business casual and about to begin his first day at a new job, doubts start to swirl through Jungwon’s mind.

What if they don’t think the blonde is professional enough? What if it breaks some kind of unspoken dress code?

He knows it doesn’t break the actual, company mandated dress code. Mostly because he’s already read through the handbook.

Twice.

With annotations.

Frowning slightly, Jungwon tilts his head to the side. He’s gotten pretty good with concealer, but there’s still a faint purplish tint that sits just along the edge of his jaw.

It takes a decent amount of effort not to wince at the memory. Sunghoon had gotten him good that day.

Jungwon forces his shoulders to relax. Forces himself to take one big breath in. Release it out slowly.

He has no reason to panic. He went through the same, brutal rounds of interviews as everyone else and was deemed to be the most qualified candidate. He graduated summa cum laude in the same field he’ll be employed in now.

And it’s not like anyone’s going to be looking at his face close enough to notice any slight discoloration. Or, at least, he doesn’t think they will.

To be honest, he’s not really sure how this whole thing works. Office jobs, no matter how many online forums he’s scoured and articles he’s read, are still a bit of a mystery to him.

He hates it. Hates feeling out of his depth and ill prepared. Hates knowing that he’ll have to ask too many questions and stumble through tasks until he gets the basics down.

But part of him is excited too.

He did it. Standing in the parking lot of an otherwise rather unremarkable company, it hits him all at once.

He actually fucking did it.

All those nights in the ring. Every bruise, every scar, every drop of blood. Every saved penny, every skipped opportunity.

They landed him here. An 8 to 5 office job that isn’t flashy or anything special from the outside, but to him, means the world.

He’ll have it all: a steady salary, a place to be in the mornings, coworkers to notice when he’s not around. It’s not much, but it’s his.

So, with one last deep inhale, Jungwon turns away from his car window and tracks a steady path on even footsteps towards the front door.

And a handful of hours later, when Terry from accounting is still talking his ear off about his son’s latest hockey match in the doorway of the staff kitchen, Jungwon’s heart gives an unsteady lurch.

“Hey, Terry,” you nod in acknowledgement, entering the kitchen in search of an early afternoon refill for your empty coffee mug. “Hey, oh.” Your eyes meet his, lips parting. Your words die when you realize you don’t know what to call him. When you realize you’ve never actually seen him before.

And it’s not like Jungwon has never seen a pretty girl before, but – oh.

Oh.

Dressed in a rather simple, work approved ensemble, hair loose around your face, there’s nothing specific that he can pinpoint. All Jungwon knows is that there’s something about you that makes him want to keep looking.

“Jungwon,” he supplies, a bit breathlessly.

Behind him, Terry is still regaling the details of his kid’s game-winning goal.

Eyes locked on him, a beat of heavy silence passes. And then –

“Hi, Jungwon.”

Your eyes. He thinks it must be your eyes. Or maybe your lips. The delicate curve of your cheekbone. His gaze can’t decide where to land.

“Hi,” he manages.

Eyes sliding over his shoulder to Terry, you release a small, amused breath. “Hey, Terry?”

Stopping mid sentence, the middle aged man turns to you. “Oh, hi, ____. How are you?”

___. Jungwon thinks it suits you. A pretty name for a pretty girl.

“Just fine, thanks.” You flash him a quick smile. Just a bare hint, and Jungwon feels his knees getting a little wobbly beneath him. “But I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

“Of course,” Terry nods a little too enthusiastically. Fifteen years at the same company, and he’s the kind of person that still jumps at the opportunity to be needed. Helpful. Jungwon thinks it’s kind of sweet, even if he wishes the man’s gift for brevity in storytelling could be a bit more apparent.

“You know the printer in the workroom?”

Terry nods.

“It’s jammed again,” you frown, the slightest hint of a pout pulling at your lips. Jungwon can’t quite find it in himself to look away from the movement. “Do you think you could take a look at it for me?”

Terry beams. “Of course! I’d be happy to.”

And then it’s just the two of you.

“He means well.” You smile again, softer this time. Like you’re discussing an inside joke only the two of you know about.

Jungwon is suddenly finding his breath a difficult thing to maintain.

“Does the printer do that a lot?” He finally manages to ask. “Jam, I mean.”

“All the time.” You roll your eyes. “You’d think a company raking in this much profit would have the cash to spare on a new machine, but no. This entire floor is just ill fated to suffer” There’s an air of humor to your words, a slight hint of teasing, even if Jungwon thinks there’s an undercurrent of truth to your words.

You smile again. Teeth tugging at your bottom lip, Jungwon can only describe your expression as slightly devious. “It’s not jammed now, though.”

His brow furrows. “It’s not?”

You shake your head. “I was given the gory details of Terry’s son’s soccer game yesterday. Trust me, I saved you a headache and an extra thirty minutes.” You wink at him, and Jungwon really, really hopes the sudden heat in his cheeks doesn’t look as obvious as it feels.

“I think it was a hockey match, actually.”

“Oh.” You pause for a moment, considering. “Right.”

A moment of silence passes. Another. Jungwon has never minded the quiet, but he’s not quite ready for this interaction to end. Suddenly, he feels like he’s scrambling for something to prolong it.

“Thank you.”

Your brow furrows. “For what.”

“The extra thirty minutes and the absence of a headache.” Jungwon taps two fingers against his temple. “I appreciate it.”

“Ah,” you smile, and this time it’s a bit brighter, wider. Jungwon, not for the first time today, thanks his lucky stars that he was accepted for this position. That it landed him here, sharing a staff kitchen with someone like you. “Anytime.”

He hopes you mean it.

And when you turn away from him a few moments later, original mission to refill your coffee remembered, Jungwon looks up at the ceiling with his eyes screwed shut and takes a long, much needed breath.

“Jungwon,” you turn back. Luckily, he’s just returned to a more natural standing position.

“Yeah?”

“It’s nice to meet you. Don’t let this place get you down too quickly.” You wink again. Jungwon does his best to keep his features neutral. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, even though you’ve already turned back to the coffee machine. “Sure thing, ___.”

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

note: and we're done! thank you for reading! and thank you for bearing with me and the fact that this unfortunately had to be split into two parts. I hope you enjoyed this story, and as always, I would love to hear any thoughts you have. all the best ♡

#jungwon fanfiction #jungwon fanfic #jungwon x you #jungwon x reader #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fanfic #enhypen x you #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #jungwon scenarios #jungwon imagines

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tpwk-formula1 · 3 months ago

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Thin Crust with Red sauce, topped with Jalapenos, Cilantro, Bacon, Buffalo Chicken. Served with Coke, Dr Pepper, Root beer, Pink lemonade, Sparkling Water, Black Tea, and Apple Juice! Served by lando please🩷🩷

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

thin crust brother's best friend red sauce rough sex jalapenos "Always such a fucking brat" cilantro "Stop crying and fucking take it" bacon "What would your brother think if he caught us" buffalo chicken "Such a fucking crybaby, just fucking take it all" coke spanking black tea choking dr pepper dirty talk apple juice pain kink root beer daddy kink pink lemonade degrading kink sparkling water spitting dessert no served by Lando Norris

Lando x Piastri! reader

TW - rough sex, mean! Lando, multiple orgasm, face fuck, choking, spanking, unprotected sex

WC 1100+

Y/N POV

"Y/N are you staying in my room or Lando's tonight?" My brother asks while we are walking out of the paddock for the day. Monza just wrapped up and if I'm being honest it's races like this that I wish I had just gotten my own room. Both my brother and Lando are quite upset with their results today.

"I think Lando, give you some time to call Lily and speak with her," I answer softly while getting in the car with Oscar.

I had decided to spend a little bit of post race with Oscar knowing I would probably be with Lando for the night.

When we got back to the hotel Oscar and I both went our separate ways. When I got to Lando's hotel room I knock softly and wait for him to open the door for me.

When he opens it and I see him for the first time in awhile I can see the pure anger swimming through my eyes.

"Don't even ask about it, just get in here and strip down," Lando tells me when he can see that I'm about to ask about the race. I just nod my head and make my way into the bedroom part of the hotel suite where I instantly strip down and get on my knees and wait for Lando to get all of his frustrations out.

When he comes into the room he's already shirtless and his sweats are laying extremely low on his hips showing me he had no briefs on under.

When he's standing in front of me he pulls his sweats down and says "you have 1 minute to get it hard."

I made quick work of teasing his cock with my lips before pulling his semi hard cock into my mouth. I could feel him start growing harder almost instantly.

It doesn't even take me a full 30 seconds to have him rock hard in my mouth, which has Lando starting to thrust into my mouth while I bob my head.

"Fuck, I love this mouth," Lando grunts while gripping my hair into a makeshift pony tail and using it to fucking my face onto his cock.

I'm gagging and crying all over his cock while he abuses my throat consistently hitting my gag reflex.

"Stop crying and fucking take it," Lando grunts out while he continues to pistol into my throat not slowing down in the slightest. I feel Lando push his dick all the way in and hold my head down on his dick cutting off my airflow while he continues to put pressure on the back of my head.

"Fuck," Lando grunts while he pulls his cock out leaving me a coughing and crying mess under him.

"Get it together, I'm far from done," Lando says while pushing me back down onto his cock and starts fucking my throat again only adding to the tears, spit, and snot that is starting to cover my face.

Lando pushes his cock all the way down my throat once again holding me for only a few seconds this time before pulling out slightly and fucking my throat before pulling my off his cock by my hair and lifting me off the ground and throwing me onto the bed where he positions me on my hands and knees.

"Fuck I love using your body," Lando grunts as he climbs into the bed and starts landing hard slaps down onto my ass.

"Lando," I whimper out when I feel his heavy hand land another spank.

"That's the wrong name and you know it," Lando states while sending down a rain of hard slaps on my ass.

"Lan, too much," I cry out.

"Always such a fucking brat," Lando grunts out as he continues to slap my ass painting it bright red with his hand prints.

"Daddy," I finally cry out which has Lando sending down one final hard spank before he's flipping me over on my back and plunging deep into my pussy and giving me no time to adjust before he's fucking me at a fast pace.

"Fuck, too fast," I cry out when Lando starts hitting my G-spot every time he fucks into me.

"Such a fucking crybaby, just fucking take it all," Lando grunts out while continuing to fuck me at the pace he set. I could feel my orgasm starting to build and Lando must sense it too because he brings one of his hands down to my clit and rubbing rough circles on it while bringing his other hand down to my throat and choking me cutting off all airflow.

I could feel my orgasm building and knew I was close but slightly distracted with not being able to breath but the second I fall over the edge as I'm close to passing out Lando releases my throat letting me breath as I start cumming making everything more intense. I'm screaming and crying while still cumming all over Lando's cock.

Once I've come down from my orgasm Lando continues to fuck me now chasing his orgasm.

"Look so pretty when you cum," Lando grunts while still teasing my clit knowing he could make me cum again.

"Daddy," I cry out overwhelmed with all the pleasure coursing through my body while also being extremely overstimulated.

"I can tell you're gonna cum for me again," Lando states while speeding his thrusts up even more when he sends a rough slap right down on my left tit making me whimper before he sends down another slap on my tit this time my right one.

"Cum with me," Lando grunts out while he brings one of his hands down to my throat and squeezing it slightly while moving his hand from my clit and landing soft slaps on my face.

"What would your brother think if he caught us, you taking my cock like you where fucking made for it while I slap this pretty face and make sure you can't breath until you're cumming all over my cock," Lando grunts out sending me right over the edge while pulling Lando with me making both of us cum at the exact same time. Lando sends one final thrust into my pussy unleashing a massive load deep within my pussy while releasing my throat and letting me scream out while I continue to cum for Lando.

"Fuck, always do so well for me," Lando says while slowly slipping his cock out of my pussy and leaning down to pull me in for a quick kiss.

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evie-sturns · 1 year ago

Text

red - 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘵 𝘚𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘰

summary: you and matt have been dating for a month, the most you've ever done is made out, one night things turn, which results in you and matt both losing your virginity.

warnings: smut, virgin!matt, virgin!reader, swearing, fluff.

------------------... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ..------------------

i'm 19, and still a virgin. my boyfriend matt doesnt know, i'm too scared to tell him even though i know he would never judge me. nothing sexual has ever happened between us, but its bound to happen at some point, right?

matt and i are laying in his bed together, the house is empty for once as we cuddle close, watching a movie. i take a deep breath through my nose, anxiety rushing through me as my thoughts race

what if it hurts? what if matt won't think of me the same if i tell him? am i even ready?

"y/n, are you okay sweetheart, you're tensing like crazy." matt rubs my back, reasurringly.

"matt." i whisper, my voice hoarse.

"yeah?" he says, sitting up, his back pressing against the headboard as i lay on his chest.

what do i even say? i cant just say- "i want to have sex with you."

shit. the words came out like word vomit.

i throw my hand over my mouth, sitting up off matts chest and leaping off the bed. an awkward silence floods through the room as i reach for the door handle.

"come back." he says calmly, patting the spot next to him.

i nod like a guilty kid as i walk back over to his bed, sitting down next to him. "did you mean what you said sweetheart?" he says, interlocking our fingers. "possibly.." i mumble, my cheeks flushing.

matt laughs

"what!!" i say, slapping him softly.

"you're so red." he giggles,

"god shut up." i mumble, a smile spreading across my face.

another silence grows in the room as we decide what to say next. i clear my throat, "matt i need to say something." i whisper, looking everywhere but at him. he nods, squeezing my hand.

"i'm uh.. a virgin.?" i say, barely audible as i rub my eyes. "but like, i know its weird from my age but its just, i really love you, and everything about you.. i think i want you to take my virginity.."

"me too." he says, his cheeks red.

"you too?" i repeat, my eyebrows furrowing.

the room goes quiet, i'm quite frankly in shock.

its no secret matt's had mutiple girlfriends before me, but im finding it hard to wrap my head around how hes never done anything.

"look who's red now." i smile, staring at matts face.

"shush," he says, pressing a finger to my lips.

i pull off my shirt, revealing my white lacy bra.

matt's eyes widen. "oh." he coughs, his eyes fixated on my chest.

"too soon?" i ask, reaching for my shirt, starting to put it back on. "no no-.." he says grabbing the shirt from my hands and throwing it across the room. "is it really that good that you had to throw it across the room?" i laugh

"well don't want to risk you putting it back on!" he shrugs before pulling off his crewneck. i swallow hard, "i don't know what i'm doing if i'm being honest." i sigh, matt sits up, pressing a kiss to my forehead, "me neither, we'll figure it out." matt smiles.

i lay back on the bed as matt stands up, spreading my legs apart and stepping between them, he places a hand on the side of my face as he leans down, kissing from my neck.. to my chest.. to my belly button.

my breathing intensifies. pure nerves flooding through my body.

"are you nervous..?" he asks, pausing his pecks at my waistband.

"no." i lie through my teeth.

"mm yes you are..." he says teasingly.

"fine, i just don't want it to hurt, my friends all say it is the most uncomfortable thing the first time.." i mumble, running a hand through my hair.

"i know, you're stressing me out now!" he laughs, yanking down his sweatpants leaving him in his boxers. i follow his lead, unclasping my bra, matt stares at me shamelessly "fuck." he mumbles "you're so pretty.." he whispers.

“you okay?” he asks, reaching for the waistband of my shorts. i nod, looking him in the eyes.

“can i take these two off?” he asks, referring to my panties and shorts,

“y-yeah.. yep.” i mumble, he pauses.

“please don’t be nervous, just try to relax and i promise you it won’t hurt okay?” he says leaning down and kissing the tip of my nose.

“i’ll try to relax.” i say to matt, he slowly pulls down my panties, leaving me revealed in-front of him

“oh my god- okay, this might be a weird question but do you ever touch yourself..” matt says, staring at me

i burst into giggles, my face going red. matt slams a hand over his face “stupid question?” he smiles.

“no no.. it’s a good question but yeah i do. why?” i smirk

“oh thank god, i was worried about you.. being too tight and if i’m too big it won’t fit.” he says with a sigh

“mr. big dick over here everyone!” I joke, resulting in him rubbing his eyes “i didnt mean it like that.”

“you’re cute matt.” i say spreading my legs apart.

matt’s breath hitches in his throat as he stares at me, it’s probably the first naked woman that he’s been with in person.

“i have condoms..” he mumbled quietly

“oh.” i say with a disappointed tone

“babe i am not making you pregnant at 19.” he scoffs, opening his bedside table.

“i’m on the pill dumbass.” i smile, reaching for him

“i thought you were a virgin?” he asks his eyebrows furrowing

“matt i am, it’s just for other reaso-.. fuck it i’ll explain later”

matt’s boxers have a noticeable bulge pressing from the inside.

“you can take those off..” i whisper.

“yeah yup uhm of course!” he says shakily.

“why are you nervous now??” i laugh and he groans

“what if i’m bad..” he sighs

“where’s my clit.” i say bluntly, he points to it exactly.

“where the hole.” i say again, again he points to it with accuracy

“there you go, you’ll be fine, and i cant even judge you cause i don’t know better either!” i say assuring him

he slowly pulls off his boxers, his erection sprinting out tapping his bellybutton. “oh my god.” i whisper to myself.

“we need a towel matt..” i say standing up off the bed.

“for what?” he says quietly

“blood?” i say casually, he turns white. “what.”

he looks around nervously “you’re on your period?”

i laugh, “i’m on birth control sweetheart, remember?”

“then why the fuck will you bleed..”

“look at you, that dick will rip my hymen.” i say, he hands me his shirt,

“i don’t know what the fuck that means but here’s a shirt you can put under you.” he says nervously, his hand shaking as he passes me the shirt.

“you’re okay if it gets blood on it?”

“mhm i just wanna start..” he says quietly.

“jesus okay.” i say laying back on the bed, the shirt under me.

he grabs his base as he stands between my legs, he rubs his tip over my folds, sending goosebumps around my body. i let out a desperate moan.

“just tap me if you want me to stop and i will instantly okay..?” matt says, his tone less shaky then before. “i’ll go so slow.”

he lines himself up with my hole, pushing himself toward slightly, nothing happens.

“i cant um.. go further.” he says, pushing at my entrance

“what.?” i ask

“i think you really need to relax your whole body, loosen up a little bit okay?” he says pressing a kiss to my cheek.

he holds out a hand infront of my mouth “spit.” he demands

“gross!” i say with a smirk painted across my face

“i know..” he says, his hand not moving away, i spit into his hand, matt quickly moves it down, using it as a lube.

“relax as much as you can okay?” he says, pressing slowly into me.

“fuck fuck fuck..” i moan, squeezing my eyes shut

i feel his tip slide into me, a loud whimper escapes matt’s mouth “oh my god..” he pushes further into me, a stretching burning sensation grows as i feel a tear fall down my cheek, he pushes the rest of the way in, stopping completely to look at me as he’s still buried inside me.

“hey hey, don’t cry your okay, you took it all!” he says caressing my cheek and rubbing the few tears that fell away. “tell me when to move, remember if you need a break tell me, if you want me to stop tap me.” he says.

i nod, looking him in the eyes “move.. please-“ i say, balling the sheets up with my fists, he nods, pulling almost out then thrusting back in, he’s going slowly.

matt is clearly trying to conceal his noises as he continues to pull out then push in. the burning sensation slowly disappears, and is replaced with pleasure

a strong smile spreads across my face, “feels good now?” he asks, his voice croaky.

“yes..” i manage to squeeze out “faster.. please” he picks up the pace slightly “i’m not gonna last long this time.” he warns

i clench around him, he twitches inside me then instantly fills me up, my jaw goes slack as i look up at him.

“shit i am so sorry..” he says pulling out with a slick sound, he grabs my hips and stands me up, i feel his cum start to leak down my leg as my leg shakes

“oh shit oh shit..” he says frantically looking around, he settles on his shirt, grabbing it and places it on me, collecting everything that is coming out of me. i laugh at the sight of him between my legs, wiping his orgasm off my thighs.

“was that okay for you, did it hurt?” he says picking me up.

“i think you just rearranged my organs.”

his cheeks go red.

------------------... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ..------------------

very much requested hope you guys liked it,

don’t be shy to spam my inbox btw i love talking to people

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic

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siggiedraws · 6 days ago

Note

What’s your thoughts on idw silver, I personally think he is ok but I feel like the idw comic didn’t really do very well with his character.

I can't say I like him... at all.

American Sonic media already has a history of needless and quite frankly terrible changes, whether made out of ignorance, xenophobia towards Sonic Team/SoJ, some vague, made-up sense of marketability, or all three. So, I'm already wary of media like that. They always change fundamental aspects of Sonic's appeal and are supremely unenjoyable to me as a result.

To stay on track here - why do I dislike IDW Silver? The main reason is that I think he's portrayed as way too polite and nice to people. He has no backbone. It's as if he was just based off of popular fanon or Archie comics, rather than the source material. I don't blame anyone for thinking Silver is some timid, polite sweetheart if fanon and IDW/Archie is all they have consumed, but I'm doing my best to dispel that notion for the sake of conquering misinformation. As a casual fan, it is understandable to have misconceptions, but I'm going to be much more harsh to official media.

I need to hammer home the fact that Silver is rude and often talks down to people. Sonic '06, Silver's debut game, showcases this very well. In an '06 cutscene, he talks down to Sonic after attacking him when his guard was down. The casual stride over to a wheezing, incapacitated Sonic kills me. The disrespect is fucking crazy.

In the level Flame Core, he acts haughty and superior about his abilities, even letting out a light chuckle at how pathetic the enemies are. And, a detail that is easy to miss, he doesn't even apologize for trying to kill Sonic.

That's not even mentioning the Rivals games being a wonderful source of Rude Silver™, where there are too many snide remarks to count.

IDW Silver is a telltale case of Silver's nuance being stripped so that he only represents one trait of his- that trait being "naivety." Silver's naivety is mentioned twice by Blaze in Sonic '06 because this is relevant to the story. Naivety is Silver's fatal flaw that leads to him being easily manipulated by Mephiles. However, his naivety isn't due to some innocent, childlike outlook on the world. Silver takes everyone at face value and always assumes people are telling the truth to him due to a lack of social skills. This is why, when Silver mentions something outlandish or unbelievable to people, he is confused why they don't believe him. This is shown in both Rivals 2 and the Sonic x Silver wallpaper cover story.

IDW seems to completely miss this nuance and conflates "naivety" with childlikeness and innocence. When you realize this, decisions put towards Silver's characterization in IDW makes a lot of sense - his hyperactive excitement and adulation over Whisper is a good example, but how he doesn't talk back to Sonic calling him "flatware" in Issue 8 particularly bothers me.

Realistically, Sonic would immediately get thrown into a wall if he said this to Silver.

Portrayals like IDW Silver are just so utterly confusing. How in the world does Silver get misconstrued this way, into something entirely opposite of what he is, in both fanon and official media? To be completely honest, it makes me frustrated. I want things to change and I feel like I have to speak up. I ended up writing an essay about Why Silver is Rude. I'm sorry anon.

#ask #sonic characterization #sonic rivals

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doberbutts · 3 months ago

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you don't actually get to cry "ally yourself with trans women" while actively talking over trans women whose traumatic experiences with transmisogyny are wildly ignored in favor of how hard transmisogyny is on the cis women. like why don't trans women get to say privilege plays into how much transmisogyny affects people?

do we not characterize white privilege as being what protects white americans from the systematic racism that permeates the US?

again, what is the preferred way you would have us refer to that privilege? because I am right here telling you that privilege is a part of the construct of tme/tma but you don't really care that trans women are more affected.

like it's crazy that you seem to think my problem is with the transvestigation playing out against a cis woman and not the way everyone pays attention when it happens to cis women but ignores the rampant transmisogyny when it happens to a trans woman. like you don't even pause to look at why there were no trans women at the olympics to transvestigate in the first place so they turned to the next marginalized option, intersex and women of color, when discussing how trans women deserve better.

Hi I'm the trans woman I deserve better from you specifically

To be completely honest this is looking less and less like a good faith discussion and more and more like you simply accusing me of stuff I didn't say.

You say I am actively talking over trans women. How so? How is "we need to address transmisogyny at its root if we want things to be better" ignoring the plight of trans women?

How is it that I have *repeatedly* acknowledged that there is privilege there, and yet apparently I am ignoring it?

if you want to use the race example: white privilege exists. Racism also affects white people. If white people want to stop being affected by racism (welfare regulations, the war on drugs, low income housing, social programs for community aid, to name a few) then maybe they should ally themselves with people of color because the root of what's causing issues with these things is racism. That doesn't mean white privilege doesn't exist just because a system of oppression affects everyone under said system. It doesn't even mean that the primary target has changed. It's just what makes this a system rather than an individual occurrence.

Never once have I said that cis women are more affected and, in fact, in followup posts I have stated that it *is* quite annoying that people have only been talking about this because this year's Olympics included approximately 0 out trans women. I have been saying that this was the clear end result, once they were rid of the trans women they'd go for whatever cis women they could feasibly get away with, and this time it seems they overplayed their hand.

Castor Semenya is a cis woman who only found out that she is intersex due to being transvestigated. She is, by definition, TME. Except she's not, is she, considering the same rules that apply to trans women apply to her. That's why I brought her up! And- correct me if I'm wrong- but out trans women still competed after she was forced to leave the Olympic running. That is why I'm saying that things maybe are not quite so clear cut as "have" and "have not", because I can point to an example of someone that the definition labels as "has privilege" that according to Olympic ruling bodies no longer counts as a woman either despite being afab TME cis.

If you want to continue to put words in my mouth, then we're out of things to say to each other, and it becomes clear that this was never intended to be a good faith discussion in the first place.

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eveninglakehomeworld · 1 month ago

Text

hi friends and lovers, I've gathered a small collection of dialogues from Zevran in DA:O regarding Antiva & the Crows.

I got this together mostly for myself, but thought I'd share in case anyone who is maybe looking to flesh out their new Crow OC, write fanfic involving Crow characters, or is looking for a refresher on early Crow lore would like something to reference. I trimmed down dialogues a bit, so mostly just information relevant to the Crows, Antiva in general, and Zevran's own attitudes about being an assassin are present.

this post has dialogues from Zev's recruitment event and a couple of early game camp conversations. because it's only a handful of dialogues, this is, ostensibly, part 1 of several. I plan to post more as I progress through my replay of origins. enjoy! <3

Recruitment

Warden: "What are the Antivan Crows?"

Leliana: I can tell you that. They are an order of assassins out of Antiva. Very powerful, and renowned for always getting the job done... so to speak. Someone went to great expense to hire this man.

Zevran: Quite right. I'm surprised you haven't heard much of the Crows out here. Back where I come from, we're rather infamous.

Warden: "You came all the way from Antiva?"

Zevran: Not precisely. I was in the neighborhood when the offer came. The Crows get around, you see.

[After being asked if he's loyal to Loghain]

Zevran: Beyond that, no, I'm not loyal to him. I was contracted to perform a service.

Warden: "And now that you've failed that service?"

Zevran: Well, that's between Loghain and the Crows. And between the Crows and myself.

Warden: "When were you to see him next?"

Zevran: I wasn't. If I had succeeded, I would have returned home and the Crows would have informed your Loghain of the results... if he didn't already know. If I had failed, I would be dead. Or I should be, at least, as far as the Crows are concerned. No need to see Loghain then.

Warden: "How much were you paid?"

Zevran: I wasn't paid anything. The Crows, however, were paid quite handsomely. Or so I understand. Which does make me about as poor as a chantry mouse, come to think of it. Being an Antivan Crow isn't for the ambitious, to be perfectly honest.

Warden: "Then why are you one?"

Zevran: Well, aside from a distinct lack of ambition, I suppose it's because I wasn't give much of a choice. The Crows bought me young. I was a bargain, too, or so I'm led to believe. But don't let my sad story influence you. The Crows aren't so bad. They keep one well supplied: Wine, women, men. Whatever you happen to fancy. Though, the whole severance package is garbage, let me tell you. If you were considering joining, I'd really think twice about it.

Warden: "Aren't you at least loyal to your employers?"

Zevran: Loyalty is an interesting concept. If you wish, and you're done interrogating me, we can discuss it further.

Warden: "I'm listening. Make it quick."

Zevran: Well, here's the thing. I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit. That's how it works. If you don't kill me, the Crows will. Thing is, I like living. And you obviously are the sort to give the Crows pause. So let me serve you, instead.

Warden: "And what's to stop you from finishing the job later?"

Zevran: To be completely honest, I was never given much of a choice regarding joining the Crows. They bought me on the slave market when I was a child. I think I've paid my worth back to them, plus tenfold. The only way out, however, is to sign up with someone they can't touch. Even if I did kill you now, they might kill me just on the principle of failing the first time. Honestly, I'd rather take my chances with you.

Warden: "Won't they come after you?"

Zevran: Possibly. I happen to know their wily ways, however. I can protect myself, as well as you. Not that you seem to need much help. And if not, well, it's not as if I had many alternatives to start with, is it?

Warden: "Why would I want your service?"

Zevran: Why? Because I am skilled at many things, from fighting to stealth and picking locks. I could also warn you should the Antivan Crows attempt something more... sophisticated... now that my attempts have failed.

A few early game camp conversations

Conversation 1 Warden: "What does it take to become an assassin?"

Zevran: Well, the Crows would have you believe that it is an involved process that takes years of training, the sort that tests both your resolve and your endurance. Survive that process and maybe, just maybe, you're good enough to start being considered one of them. But quite frankly the truth is that all it requires is a desire to kill people for a living. It's surprising how well one can do in such a field.

Warden: "It doesn't take any special skill?"

Zevran: I don't know about that. It's simply a slightly different skill set from your average killer, as I see it. An assassin simply specializes in striking from stealth... and in maximizing that first attack to be as lethal as possible. Debilitating your foe, either by poison or by crippling their limbs, makes any follow-up combat you need to engage in that much simpler.

Warden: "That sounds like it could be useful."

Zevran: See? Getting paid for the act is beside the point. An assassin is more a tactical choice than a lifestyle. Of course, the Crows like to pretend that their abilities are trade secrets, shrouded in shadows and wrapped in a blanket of mystery. So let's just keep this between you and me, shall we, hmm?

Conversation 2 Warden: "Why did you want to leave the Crows, exactly?"

Zevran: Well, now, I imagine that's a very fair question. Being an assassin, after all, is a living, at least as far as such things go. I was simply never given the opportunity to choose another way. So if that choice presents itself, why should I not seize upon it?

Warden: "You didn't choose the Crows?"

Zevran: Mm? To be truthful, I didn't even know the Crows existed when I joined them. I was but a boy of seven when I was purchased. For three sovereigns, I'm told. Which is a good price, considering I was all ribs and bone and didn't know the pommel of a dagger from the pointy end. The Crows buy all their assassins that way. Buy them young, raise them to know nothing else but murder. And if you do poorly in your training, you die.

Warden: "That sounds awful."

Zevran: "Oh, I don't know about that. The Crows who are actually good enough to survive come to enjoy some of the benefits. In Antiva, being a Crow gets you respect. It gets you wealth. It gets you women... and men, or whatever it is you might fancy. But that does mean doing what is expected of you, always. And it means being expendable. It's a cage, if a gilded cage. Pretty, but confining. [note: I transcribed the first line of the last section as it was written in the subtitles because it seemed to make more sense in context, but when Zevran speaks it aloud he actually says "That does not mean doing what is expected of you." presumably an editing error, but can't be 100% positive which is the intended message.]

[After being asked what he thinks his future might hold]

Zevran: As for what I'll do in the future... presuming that there is one... I truly can't imagine. It might be interesting to go into business for myself, for a change. Far away from Antiva, of course. For now, naturally, I go where you go.

Warden: "Won't the Crows eventually find you?"

Zevran: [laughs] Eventually can be a very, very long time if one plays one's cards right. Come, now. Enough chit-chat. Talking about the Crows summons them, you know. Any Antivan fishwife could tell you so.

Conversation 3 Warden: "Do you actually enjoy being an assassin?"

Zevran: And why not? There are many things to enjoy about being a Crow in Antiva. You are respected. You are feared. The authorities go out of their way to overlook your trespasses. Even the rewards are nothing to turn your nose up at. As for the killing part, well... some people simply need assassinating. Or do you disagree?

Warden: "You've never killed an innocent?"

Zevran: Now there's an interesting word, "innocent." How many men do you know who can claim to truly be innocent? But if you're talking generalities, such as children and relatives and bystanders and such... never on purpose, but it happens. It's unfortunate, but death comes to us all. If not me, then some wasting disease. Or a fall down the stairs. Or at the hands of a darkspawn. It's all relative in the end.

Warden: "I suppose that's true."

Zevran: "Death happens," as we like to say. And when I get paid for it, death happens more often. As far as enjoying the act of killing itself, why not? There is a certain artistry to the deed, the pleasure of sinking your blade into their flesh and knowing that their life is in your hands.

Warden: "I know what you mean."

Zevran: There are many things I did not enjoy about being a Crow, of course. Having no choice, being treated as an expendable commodity, the rules... oh, so many rules! But, simply being an assassin? I like it just fine. I will continue to do it, if I can, even if I am not a Crow. Honestly, could you picture me doing something else?

Conversation 4 [note: I trimmed this one down a lot bc it's just one of the ones where he tells you about a job and there's not a lot to be gleaned about Antiva, how the Crows operate, etc] [In response to being asked, "The Crows were willing to anger the Circle of Magi?"]

Zevran: In Antiva, nobody is too important to escape the reach of the Crows. They have killed kings and queens. That's simply how it is.

[After elaborating on how he fumbled an assassination attempt and the mark died accidentally, instead of by his hand]

Zevran: Then I found out she had told the driver to take her to Genellan instead. She has planned to lose me in the provinces. I would have looked very foolish to the Crows. As it was, my master was very impressed that I had done such a fine job of making it look like an accident. The Circle of Magi was unaware of foul play, and everyone was happier all around.

Conversation 5 Warden: "Tell me a little about Antiva."

Zevran: Oh? You wish to know about Antiva, do you? The only way to truly appreciate it would be to go there. It is a warm place, not cold and harsh like this Ferelden. In Antiva it rains often, but the flowers are always in bloom... or so the saying goes.

Warden: "Don't you want to go back?"

Zevran: [sighs] It is not really a matter of wanting to go back. I cannot go. At least not yet. I hail from the glorious Antiva City, home to the royal palace. It is a glittering gem amidst the sand, my Antiva City. Do you come from someplace comparable?

Warden: "I'm not from any glittering gem, no."

Zevran: No? That is too bad. If you were, then surely you would spend as much time boasting about it as I do! Hmm. You know what is most odd? We speak of my homeland, and for all its wine and its dark-haired beauties and the lillo flutes of the minstrels... I miss the leather the most.

Warden: "Is that some kind of euphemism?"

Zevran: [laughs] It may as well be! But not this once, no. I mean the smell. For years I lived in a tiny apartment near Antiva City's leather-making district, in a building where the Crows stored their youngest recruits. Packed in like crates. I grew accustomed to the stench, even though the humans complained of it constantly. To this day the smell of fresh leather is what reminds me most of home more than anything else.

Warden: "That's a little bizarre. There's leather everywhere."

Zevran: Ah, but it's not Antivan leather, is it? I do not know what the Antivan tanners do that is different, but ther is no leather more supple nor more fragrant.

Warden: "You sound like you've been away from home forever."

Zevran: Oh, not so long, I know. It is my first time away from Antiva, however, and the thought of never returning makes me think of it constantly. Before I left, I was tempted to spend what little coin I possessed on leather boots I spotted in a store window. Finest Antivan leather, perfect craftsmanship—ah, but I was a fool to leave them. I thought, "Ah, Zevran, you can buy them when you return as a reward from a job well done." More the fool I, no?

Warden: "Your home is still there, Zevran."

Zevran: True, and it's a comforting thought. One simply never knows what is to come next.

Now, if it is all the same to you, I would prefer not to speak more of Antiva. It makes me wistful and hungry for a proper meal.

Bonus banter snippet because I found it amusing:

Morrigan: You assassin types have a death wish, I see.

Zevran: [laughs] Only the really good ones.

#dragon age #zevran #zevran arainai #antivan crows #hopefully someone besdides myself finds this useful and im not just clogging up tags!!#yapping #daoblogging

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russellsppttemplates · 10 months ago

Text

All the milestones (Lando Norris)

Fraser came earthside earlier than you expected

Note: english is not my first language. Believe it or not, I'm also a preemie (genetically and health wise, I am a catch, I know). Jokes aside as this is a serious topic, I was born at thirty three weeks because of some complications and it all turned out well, but I am aware of what it entailed from people telling me and it isn't something I've seen around here! Knowing that the diversity I write brings comfort to read and to ask this warms my heart up so much 🫶 I'm also basing this off of my mum's experience!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions c-section and themes related to hospital stays and procedures, prematurity, pre-eclampsia

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"I'm really sorry I can't go with you, darling", Lando apoligised as he set the plate with lunch in front of you, "it's okay, it's just an ultrasound", you responded, "we're just going to check if everything is alright with you, right, little one?", you tapped your babybump softly. At thirty weeks pregnant, you were starting to feel the tiredness and aches like you had felt in your previous pregnancy, only now you had a toddler to look after as well, so you had been taking it easy. Fortunately, you were able to juggle work and family life in a way that allowed you to make the minimum compromise to both spheres of your life.

"Drink your water, baby", Lando reminded you, tapping the jug, "I'm going to pick up my dad from the airport and then we'll both get Tilly. Are you feeling like going out for dinner or should I get take out and we eat here?", he questioned, taking a bite of his food.

"I'd prefer to stay in", you stated, "are you feeling like anything special?", he asked back.

"Right now I can't think of anything", you offered, not really looking forward to eating the delicious food in front of you if you were really being honest. Still, you manage to eat the most of it.

"Have a good meeting, Lan, I love you", you said as you put your coat on, grabbing your bag with all your documents.

"Be safe, okay, baby?", he checked, kissing the top of your head and then kissing your baby bump, "and you too, buddy, keep yourself and mummy safe and sound, don't give her too much trouble", he said, helping you out of the door before you went on your separate ways, "I love you, gorgeous mummy!", he winked before he got inside his car.

Once you arrived at the hospital and checked yourself in, your midwife Amelia greeted you in the examination room, "how have you been feeling, Y/N?", she asked as she slipped the bad on your arm to get your blood pressure numbers, sending the urine sample to the lab.

"I've been feeling a little tired, especially compared to last time, which I can only put down to having Tilly, and she's a very calm child", you giggled, remaining quiet as the machine got your numbers.

"These look quite high, did you run up here?", she asked, "no, I got here earlier than I expected actually, I've been sitting on the waiting room for a bit", you scrunched your face.

"We'll just wait for your results and then we'll see if it's something we have to wordy about", she tranquilized, "let's see you baby boy, shall we?", she smiled as you lifted your shirt, letting her apply the cream and move the wand around.

"There's your son, Y/N", she smiled, "He's a bit quiet, but the heartbeat sounds good", she smiled, taking a few more pictures so you could bring them home for Lando and Matilda to see.

A knock on the door alerted you both as Amelia was taking your measurements, "I have the results for Y/N Y/L/N-Norris", your OB checked, seeing you in the room, "Hi, Y/N, I thought I'd only see you later", she said as she walked in. She pulled on a stool and sat on it, "your results are indicating that you might be in pre-eclampsia", she said as she showed the tablet's screen to Amelia, her stern expression confirming your suspicions on how serious the situation was, "your body is having trouble keeping up with everything, hence your high blood pressure and your urine results suggest your kidneys are working overtime as well", Dr. Martin said as you straightened up, hands coming to wrap around your baby bump protectively, "your baby is fine, so that's not a big worry, but we do think it would be best if we delivered him tonight", she advised.

"But he's too small", you argued.

"You're at thirty weeks, which isn't ideal, but the survival rate is very very high for babies born at this time, and we also have a team that is specialised in preemie care, so he will be in the best hands", she comforted, "we need to give you corticosteroids to make sure the baby's lungs are ready for when he comes earthside, we'll get you admitted and monitor you and the baby to make sure he's not struggling either. In a few days, depending on how this goes, we'll do a c-section. I know it's not ideal, but this is the best way to make sure you and baby boy stay safe".

Sighing, you nodded, "okay, whatever is best for both of us", you asserted, "I just need to call Lando - my father in-law is coming to stay for a bit and they're getting Matilda from school", you thought out loud.

"Absolutely, dear, everything is going to be just fine", Amelia conforted while Dr. Martin set you up to go to a room.

Lando helped Matilda up to her car seat, strapping her in as she spoke to his father, "and did you have a good day, princess?", Adam asked, "yes, we coloured lots and we saw a couple of butterflies when we were having our snack!", she smiled as Lando drove home.

The car system alerted them of a call from you, "hey, beautiful, I'm in the car with my father and Tilly - say hi to mummy, babygirl!", he encouraged, "Hi, mummy!", she cheered, "Hey Y/N", Adam greeted too.

"Hey, guys! Lando, can you give the phone to your dad, please?", you asked, "sure, love", he said as he disconnected the phone from the car, nodding his father to take the phone in the console.

"Hey, Y/N, is everything alright?", Adam asked over the phone, "Hey, Adam, I hope you travelled well! I'm not sure if Lando told you, but I had an appointment today, and it turns out I have to be admitted", you began, "I don't want to worry him, much less when he's driving, so as soon as you get home, can you tell him to call me back again, please? Baby Fraser might join us sooner than we expected", you mumbled, nerves obvious in your voice as Adam stayed with a neutral face.

"Absolutely, Y/N, I'll let him know", he said before hanging up.

"What was it? Is everything alright?", Lando asked, knowing there would be a reason as to why you didn't want to have everyone listening to the conversation.

Checking the rearview mirror to see Matilda playing with one of her books, Adam clarified Lando, "she is going to stay at the hospital for a little longer than she expected for some check ups, she didn't want Matilda to hear about it", he said. It wasn't too much of a lie, and he certainly didn't want to scare anyone and since Lando would be calling you anyway, it could wait for a bit, "she asked you to call her when you got home. Don't worry, I'll keep Matilda entertained", he smiled.

Once they arrived, Adam left his things in the guest bedroom and met Matilda in the kuchen, "grandpa will make you some snacks. What do you want, darling?", he asked as he urged Lando to go and make a call to you.

"Hi, baby", Lando said as you picked up, "dad said you wanted me to call you, is everything alright?", he asked as he stepped inside the bedroom, hanging his coat in the closet.

"Hi, my love", you sighed and sending Lando into alert, "when they did my check up, Amelia took my blood pressure and it was really high, and my urine sample didn't look great either. It turns out I'm in pre-eclampsia and they want to keep me for observation, and it's likely Fraser will join us in the next few days", you added, "I need you here -, and things for me", you let out.

"Are you okay? I'll start packing right away", he said as he put his phone on speaker, looking for pyjamas and toiletries.

"My blood pressure is high - so far there's no distress for the baby, and they want to keep him in for as long as they can", you explained, "I, I am fine staying here on my own, that's okay, but I really need you here for a bit", you asked, "of course, my love. I'm going to pack these up quick and I'll be there. I love you", he said before you said it back, putting his phone in his pocket and zipping the bag.

"Daddy, where are you going?", Matilda asked as she saw the bag, "princess, mummy is going to stay in the hospital for a bit so the doctors can make sure her and baby are okay, and daddy is going to take a few things for her", he announced, crouching down so he was at her level.

"Is mummy sick?", she pouted, "she's a little tired, so they're going to make sure she rests up as much as she can", he slipped out, "I'm going to be there for a little bit to giver her her pyjamas so she's comfy, and then I'll be right back, okay? Can you stay here with grandpa?", he asked.

"Okay, daddy", she said before walking away, "but wait!", she called from the hall.

"I'll get dinner started and tuck her in if it gets too late - she didn't want me to tell you until you were home", he apoligised, "I know, I know, thanks for being here, it was bloody good timing", Lando mused.

Matilda came back with one of her stuffed toys, a McLaren bear she loved, "this is for mummy, so she doesn't sleep alone", she smiled sweetly. Maybe her innocence was positive because it meant she was dealing with the situation quite well.

"I'll give it to mummy, baby girl, I bet she'll love it", he smiled, kissing her cheek and leaving to the garage so he could drive to the hospital.

When he arrived, Amelia walked up with him as she told you all there was to know, knocking on your room door before they stepped inside.

"Darling", he said, setting the bag down and sitting next to you on the bed, kissing your forehead protectively, "how are you?", he asked.

"Fine, although I don't think it has really sunk in", you mumbled, playing with his fingers, "how is Tilly?", you wondered.

"She gave you Mr. Brown", he said as he fished out the bear from the bag, "she said she wanted you to have it so you wouldn't be alone in here", he smiled.

After spending as much time as he could with you, he bid you goodbye and went home, finding his father washing up the dishes as Matilda got her pyjamas on for the night, "I have a tupperware for you in the fridge if you want something to eat".

"Thanks, I've got it from here though - c'mon, little miss, we're going to sleep!", Lando hoisted her up, holding her on his hip as they walked upstairs to the bedroom, "can I sleep in your bed, daddy?", Matilda spoke in a small voice, "I don't want you to be alone either", she admitted.

Smiling at her sweetness, he nodded, "of course you can, love. Mummy sent her goodnight wishes for you, and maybe we can visit her tomorrow, how does that sound?", he smiled, "yes, please, daddy!".

"I made these for you, mummy, so your room is nice and colourful!", Matilda smiled as Lando let you in for a cuddle, your little girl getting help from her grandfather at ripping the tape so she could display her drawings she brought you almost daily, only missing days where Landk hadn't been able to bring her to the hospital because of their schedules.

"That's beautiful, darling, thank you so much", you gushed before turning to Lando, "has she cried again?", you whispered. You had been in the hospital for five days now, and two nights ago Matilda started with what was a tantrum at first and then evolved to crying about the fact that you weren't home. Lando was able to talk it out with her, welcoming her and allowing her to talk about how she was feeling and how it was beyond the fact that her tights were itching her.

"No, yesterday she told me she couldn't wait for you to come home, and that you were taking longer than she liked", he snickered, "always little miss rushing when it comes to you", he kissed the side of your head. Even though she was a daddy's girl through and through, she never made you feel left out.

"Y/N", Dr. Martin called after she stepped inside the room, "Oh, Matilda, you're so grown up already! Time flies by", she said as she waved at your little girl while Adam pulled her to sit on his lap, whispering "That's mummy's doctor, she is going to check up on her so you have to keep quiet, okay?" into her ear.

"I was checking your results, and I think between tonight and tomorrow, we might have to deliver your baby boy", she stated, everyone in the room straightening up as Matilda tried to read the adults' faces.

"His lungs look really good in the ultrasound we did this morning - as you know those were our biggest concerns, so we'll come up to monitor you, okay?", she rubbed your shoulder comfortingly before excusing herself.

"Well, I think it's best if we get going, then", Adam said as he got up, coming up to kiss the top of your head and squeeze your hand in his.

"Mummy, I know you're going to do very well", she said, earning small giggles around the room, "when can I come and meet the baby?", she stepped up to give you a kiss.

"We will have to see how it all goes, princess, but when you can, you'll be the first to come, okay?", you smiled, brushing the curls out of her eyes and kissing her head.

"I'll drop these guys home, get the baby bag and then I'll be back", Lando said, kissing your lips and your baby bump, "you stay in there for just a little longer, okay buddy?".

By the time Lando got back to the hospital, you had already been given a few medications to prep you for the c-section, "Kelly and Max advised that I shopped for some smaller clothes, so I have those in there", he tapped the baby bag, "and how are you feeling?", he cupped your cheek.

"My blood pressure is really high, so they're thinking about putting me under, like, full body anesthesia", you bit your lip. Getting surgery was already a big thing, but being completely under was another.

"Oh, okay", Lando gulped, "they won't let me be in there then", he realised, "that's not how we wanted this to happen, but it's going to be okay, gorgeous. You're the strongest woman I know, you're going to be just fine", he smiled, "and our baby boy will come out screaming and he will be the strongest little one ever", he said, trying to convince you and himself of his words. He was scared too, but it wouldn't do you both any good to dwell on it too much.

Knocking on the door, one of the lovely interns and Amelia came to get you, "are we all ready? I'm afraid you already know this, Lando, but you won't, be able to be with us in the OR", she apoligised, "I'll wait right here, if that's okay", your husband suggested, kissing you one last time before they wheeled you off, "I love you, Y/N", he muttered against your lips.

While he waited, he looked at the drawings in the room with precise attention, finding one where Matilda drew the four of you, her brother in your arms and Lando holding her hand, names scribbled under each person in Adam's writing.

Less than an hour later, Amelia stepped into the room, Lando getting up from his spot on the chair immediately, "everything went well, they were weaning Y/N off of the anesthesia, she's going to the PACU until she wakes up and then back here", she smiled, "your little boy is in the neonatal unit, do you want to come and meet him?", she asked, Lando letting out a sigh of relief at her words, "I'll let you know when Y/N comes back to the room", she ensured, having been in the job long enough to know the dilemma of wanting to be in two places at the same time.

"Yes, let's go", he said as he straightened up his sweater, "can I hug you?", he allowed himself to feel emotional, Amelia's open arms offering him a little comfort, "they're both alright, Lando, you have such a beautiful family", she cooed.

Walking with him to the neonatal care unit, she helped him into one of the gowns as they greeted the other parents inside along with all of the staff, "this is your little boy", she said, offering him a sanitizer for his hands, "he can't eat on his own just yet, so that single tube on his nose is feeding him, the other one is giving him oxygen, and those stickers are to make sure his heart is doing okay - little milestones and little victories", she explained as Lando took him in.

Surely, he was much smaller than Matilda, but he could already spot some similarities, "Can I touch him?", he asked, weary of disturbing the perfectly architected environment inside the incubator, "yes, of course! Just be mindful of the wires and tubes", she encouraged, opening the little doors so Lando could touch your son.

"Hey, buddy", he spoke as he touched his tiny fingers, "you're already such a fighter, breathing so well without ventilation", he cooed. He looked up all the complications and when he didn't see a mechanical ventilator, he couldn't help but feel proud of the baby, "he is, we did all the tests and for now supplemental oxygen seems to be enough", Dr. Martin said softly, not wanting to spook them as she showed up, "everything went well with Y/N, she should make a full recovery once it heals", she rubbed his back.

"Thank you", he said, keeping the tears at bay as he looked back at Fraser, "you're so tiny they had to roll up your diaper, hm little love?", he spoke, "there are so many people who love you and they have so much of it to give you".

A little while later, Amelia told him they were taking you up to your room, so Lando said goodbye to Fraser, "I'm going to see mummy, Fraser, and I'm going to tell her how much of a higher you are, I love you", he cooed one last time, rubbing his arm before taking his hands away, closing the little doors and folding the gown for later.

Walking into the corridor to your room, Lando could spot you in the other end, smiling as you spotted him too, "nearly beat you in this race", you smiled at him as he gestured for them to wheel you into the room, "everything went as expected, Dr. Martin will be up shortly to speak to you two", one of the interns said.

"How are you feeling, gorgeous?", he said, brushing your hair away from your eyes and behind your ears, "I'm fine, the meds are helping with the pain, I'm sure", you giggled, "they gave me a good dose".

"That's nice, at least", he said, "I've texted everyone to let them know you were okay and everything went well", he added.

"Have you seen him yet?", you asked, "yes, I have", Lando beamed, "He's very tiny and he looks a little bit like Tilly already. And he's such a fighter, too! He only had those little pin-like tubes to help him breathe, they didn't need any incisions or anything. I would've taken a picture but I couldn't take my hands away from him", he admitted.

"Hopefully soon I can see him", you gulped, knowing it would off the books for a bit since you had abdominal surgery.

"All in due course, baby. I'm so happy you're both fine", he kissed your forehead.

"I just want to hold my baby!", you hiccuped, wiping the tears falling on your cheeks while Amelia conforted you, "just one more day, Y/N, maybe two at maximum to make sure you're healing well, too", she smiled apologetically.

A knock on the door alerted you as Lando and Matilda walked inside, making you wipe your cheeks quickly, "mummy!", she cheered softly, approaching you and climbing on the bed softly since she knew you were healing, "have you been crying, mummy?", she said, hugging your arm and resting her head there.

"Mummy is upset because I can't go and see Fraser today", you explained as Lando kissed the top of your head.

Amelia excused herself as you caught up with everything back home, "grandpa asked me to give you kisses", Matilda recalled as she kissed your cheeks, "his plane has landed alresdy", Lando added, "That's nice of him, thank you darling".

"We can go and meet Fraser, Tilly", Lando said as the window they allowed visitors in was coming to the half-time mark, "I'm going to give him loads of kisses from you mummy, don't worry about it!", your daughter said sweetly as she climbed off the bed, "I'm going to try and FaceTime, okay?", Lando confirmed, handing you your phone before they left for the neonatal unit.

"Matilda, darling, you have to put this on, okay?", one of the nurses gave her a mask, "she's in nursery and she might have caught some bug that isn't showing symptoms yet and it could be harmful for the babies", he checked with Lando as your husband nodded.

"It's like a costume, Tilly!", Lando tried to make it fun for her, adjusting the gown and then the mask around her face, "you can't go around touching things, okay princess?", he stated as she nodded, ready to meet her little brother.

Lando got himself gowned and led them to Fraser's incubator, "that is Fraser, baby", he cooed, typing on his phone inside the clear bag and FaceTiming you like he promised so you too could see the moment they met for the first time.

"He's so tiny", she gasped, standing on the stepping stool so she could see him properly, "I can't kiss him, can I?", she asked and Lando shook his head, watching you smile on the screen, "I'm going to blow him the kisses I have from mummy then", she said, her hand making the movements from her covered mouth to her brother, "I love you, Fraser, and mummy loves you too, she can't be getting because her tummy still hurts a little", she told him.

"This just makes you want to have another right away, doesn't it?", Lando croaked out as he wiped a tear from his eye, your wide eyes looking at him, "not anywhere in the near future - my body knows that much!", you giggled at the soft sight, "but it is incredibly cute, yes", you smiled as tears fell on your cheeks too.

"Look, mummy! He moved his hand, he's saying hello to you", Matilda smiled, "He's saying he wants to see you, too!".

You were finally able to stand up and sit in a wheelchair, so your other goal for the day was going to see your son.

Amelia was the first to say she would take you, helping you sit and getting you there, "That's your little boy right there", she pointed as you were filled with giddiness and excitement.

Wheeling you to face plastic bassinet, your hand went straight inside, "he doesn't need oxygen anymore?", you asked his doctor, noticing the single tube you recognised as a feeding tube, "no, not anymore", he said, "we ran some tests this morning and he's doing just fine on his own, strong set of lungs he has! He woke two of the other babies up yesterday", he smiled.

Chuckling, you touched his arm softly, his hands opening and closing, "do you want to hold him?", he asked, catching you by surprise. Until now, no one ever held him as to make sure the treatments being done were working as best as they could.

"Can I?", you asked, eyes hopeful, "me and the rest of the team think he's finally strong enough to move out of here actually", he added, "not enough to go home just yet, but he can be in your room. This way you can have him close to you and of anything happens or you need help, the staff in your floor know what to do. He just needs to be able to feed without a pump, so either breastfeeding or bottle feeding", he stated.

"Wow, okay, I wasn't expecting this, I was so happy that I got to see him", you teared up, bringing your arms to position so the doctor could place your baby in your arms, mindful of the feeding tube that was still in him, "hey, my love", you cooed, touching his cheeks, "I'm your mummy. I know you were rushed out of my tummy, and it was scary for both of us, but it's looking up now", you cried, Amelia wiping your cheeks as she smiled too.

"Do you mind if we take his tube out now? Might be a little better for this little guy to be in his mummy's chest", the doctor suggested, getting the supplies he needed and setting them in the tray.

"It's okay, little guy", he said as he pulled it out, baby Fraser crying at the discomfort you could only imagine as you rubbed his back, "it's okay, my love, mummy's here to make it better", you shushed him, kissing his head multiple times.

"There, all done!", the doctor said, "if you want, you can feed him here or in your room, where you feel best", he wondered, "could we go to the room, please? I have my supplies there, too", you asked.

You had been pumping milk out since it came in, and you were finally able to feed him straight from your nipple, "okay, little one, you can't get lazy on us now that mummy has you in her room", Amelia encouraged, tapping his cheek slightly as he began suckling on your nipple, "there we go!", she cheered, "I told you it would get better, didn't I?", she winked at you.

When Lando and Matilda came for their daily visit, they didn't expect to see you walking around the room, your back facing the door, "you're up, mummy, that's good!", your daughter said as you turned around, showing her brother on your chest, "oh", she gasped.

"He passed all his tests, and he's getting chubby too", you cooed, squishing his thigh softly as Lando took the sight in, Matilda holding onto you as you patted her head and held your son. Your family was complete.

"That's daddy, Fraser", you cooed, pointing at Lando as your baby boy looked around to the two new people in the room.

"Can I have a cuddle?", Lando whispered before you transferred Fraser to his arms, your little boy curling up against him just like he had been curled up to you.

"Does this mean you get to go home?", Matilda asked, hugging you properly as you sat down on the bed with her, "not for a few days still, they just need to make sure Fraser is alright", you informed, "then we can go home and the four of us are going to have loads of fun", you smiled.

"Tilly, can you help me here, please?", Lando called as her footsteps approached your bedroom, "can you get me that bedding from the drawer, please?", Lando asked as he held the mattres up, not wanting to miss the exact placement of the sheet, "thank you, baby, you're such a clever girl", he complimented, folding the corner in and letting the mattress fall back into place.

"When mummy comes home tonight, is Fraser coming with her?", she wondered, touching the next to me bassinet you kept in your room for the baby to sleep in the first few months, "yes, he is, he's finally good and big enough to come home, no more hospital visits", Lando sighed. The last couple of weeks were hard. Juggling things on his own made him even more appreciative of you and the efforts you made to make sure everything was smoothly running in the house, as well of your friends and family who suported your family in every way they could.

"That's going to be nice, the hospital smells funny", she scrunched up her nose, "and it's going to be like before but with baby Fraser?", she wondered.

"At first mummy will need our help in many things - she still has some recovery to do, but then it will be back to normal, yes", Lando offered, "and we'll have Fraser to go with us in our adventures".

"I can't wait to show him my soft blankets and my toys", she beamed, helping Lando with the bed and then getting ready to pick you up from the hospital.

"Thank you again for all of your work and dedication, we truly can't say it enough for all you've done for our family", Lando said to the team as they discharged you from the hospital, waving at Fraser in his carrier as he looked around.

By the time the four of you were back home, you ate dinner on the sofa, Matilda cuddled up to your side while Fraser slept in your chest, Lando holding the four of you in his embrace as much a she could, "we're finally all together", you smiled, "the Norris family is all together in one place we it should be", he said, kissing your lips softly, hand coming to rest on top of yours in Fraser's back as Matilda smiled up at you, "this is the best day ever", she murmured.

Post partum blurb

#lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x you #dad!lando x reader #f1 fluff #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader

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arc-misadventures · 2 months ago

Note

Can I request for a sequel for A Proper Villain. Like Jaune's day to day and interactions with other heroes and villains.

The Blackcat, And The Stalker

In a dingy lit room, bound to a table, a figure clad in black sat bound to a chair with a hood on their head. Here, bound to the chair was, The Violet Shadow.

One of the few faunas hero's that fought to make the world a better place! Mostly for faunas mind you, but if helping the faunas helped the humans at the end of the day that was alright.

She had been captured after hitting one of the, Crowns, Dust silos that was being made from the labour of faunas slaves. Violet Shadow's goal was the destruction of the silos, while her compatriots freed the slaves. She had sacrificed herself to buy her teammates time to evacuate the slaves. This noble endeavor resulted in her capture, where she was eventually sold off to the worlds major villain, The Cabal to recuperate the Crowns loses.

Now she was here, in one of the, Cabals many interrogation rooms waiting for the fun to begin, and whatever they brought before her, she was ready for...?!

: Bahh! Let's leave them in a dingy lit room, that well be really menacing since they have a bag over their head, and can't see anything?!

: Where's the damn light switch?! We do not have time for this!

: Ahh, there it is... AH?! Since when did maintenance change the light bulbs? They're much brighter than the old ones...

: No! I have no time for this! We must finish this, soon!

Suddenly the bag over, Violet Shadow's face was removed, and she was left staring at the cerulean eyes of her old friend.

VioletShadow: Jaune Arc... It's a pleasure to see you again... traitor...

Jaune: T-Traitor? How precisely am I a traitor?

VioletShadow: After being kicked out of the hero academy, you turn to a life of crime! How could you, you had aspirations of becoming a hero, and when you failed you became a villain, no you couldn't even do that, you became a villains underling! How utterly pathetic...

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Rude. But, I can understand why you see me as a traitor. Going from hero academy to villain henchman, that makes sense. But, you know I didn't flunk out of, Beacon Hero Academy; I was framed, and kicked out because of, Cardin Winchester.

VioletShadow: But, even after you were cleared of wrong doings you refused to come back! Embracing the life of crime, you traitor!

Jaune: Well, that was mostly because of how they 'invited' me back. More, or less absolving themselves of any wrong doing, and made it all seem like an honest mistake on no ones fault that I was expelled. On top of that it took them half a year to prove my innocence when I had proof of my innocence! So yeah, I didn't want to deal with their BS, and quit frankly you don't deal with as much bull shit working with the villains.

Jaune: Also the hero leagues don't have nearly as many benefits as the, Goonuion does. So there's that...

Jaune: No wait! We don't have time for this! Okay, the Cabal paid five tons in raw Dust to get you from, the Crown. Now I need you to give me information that's worth at least five tons of raw Dust so we can let you go. What do you got for me?!

VioletShadow: Ha! I'm not going to tell you anything, traitor!

Jaune: Violet, we don't have time for this...!

VioletShadow: Then make time! Because it doesn't matter what you do to me I won't talk!

Jaune: You seriously don't understand how much of a time crunch we're on, I need information to trade you you're freedom. Right. Now!

VioletShadow: Ha! You won't get any information out of me! You can bind me, gage me, bend my body over the table, and stuff your hot rod in...?!

Jaune: BLAKE?!

Jaune bent down on the table as he spoke, Violet Shadow's true identity in a silent scream.

VioletSadow: H-Hey?! You know the rules: no revealing secret identities! I know it's an unspoken rule, but...?!

Jaune: The Bull is here!

Violet was silent as she registered the words that, Jaune had just spoken as dread filled her veins.

VioletShadow: A-Adam is here...?

Jaune: Yes! We are in the middle of a code: Bull Heart!

VioletShadow: B-Bull Heart?

Jaune: Yes, it's the codename we use when we have you here, and, Adam is here. The code is basically means, 'Get Violet Shadow out of here as fast as possible!'

VioletShadow: It does...?

Jaune: Yes! And, I know that being captured, and tied up is a wet dream for you...

VioletShadow: N-No it isn't...

Jaune: I know what kind of books you're into. Violet, so don't bull shit me!

VioletShadow: Ohh...

Jaune: So give me, something I can trade your freedom for. NOW!

VioletShadow: No.

Jaune: N-No...?

VioletShadow: No. I bet your lying... this is all a lie so you can extract important information from me! To get me to talk without resorting to torture of... any sorts... Hehehe~! Ahem! No! No, I will not talk, do your worst, Jaune because even knowing that, Adam could possibly be here, I will not...

Jaune: The Chameleon is also here...!

VioletShadow: T-The Cameleon is here... I-Ilia is here?

Jaune: Yep.

VioletShadow: ...

VioletShadow: Would the location of, Kings Vault be enough?

Jaune: No, only one villain cares about that.

VioletShadow: The location of, Atlas hidden weapons vaults?

Jaune: Which one?

VioletShadow: There's more than one?

Jaune: That's a no.

VioletShadow: Shit! Uhhh... I know about shipment of, Rainbow Dust being shipped by the, SDC; how about that?

Jaune: Rainbow Dust? That could work... How much, Dust are we working with here?

VioletShadow: I don't know the exact amount... But, the report said around 50 pounds worth of, Rainbow Dust was going to be transferred on, SDC train from the South Hill Dust Depot on the 18th.

Jaune: Hmmm... Even if it's not fifty pounds worth of, Rainbow Dust, if we hit that train we can also recoup the lost, Dust we used to buy you from, the Crown... Yes, this is a good deal. Congratulations, Violet Shadow, you just bought your freedom.

VioletShadow: That's great! Now what?

Jaune: Stage Two.

VioletShadow: Stage two; what's stage two?

Jaune swiftly opened the door, and ushered in several goons.

Jaune: Alright guys, we're moving on to, Stage Two! Let's get this going, now, now, now!

Several goons entered the room, two carrying a gurney, and what appeared to be a body bag on top, as well as several other goons with industrial cleaner levels of equipment.

VioletShadow: What's with the body bag?

Goon#1: We's smuggling you out 'ere in the body bag.

VioletShadow: Okay? And, the cleaner products?

Goon#2: Da freaking, Bull knows your scent!

VioletShadow: He knows my scent?!

Jaune: Yes, we have to sterilize the whole room to get ride of your smell! Now quit squawking, and get in the body bag!

VioletShadow: Okay, okay, I'm going!

Violet Shadow's bands were undone, and she swiftly got into the body bag,put on the gurney.

Jaune: Alright, get rid of the body! Go! Gogogogo!

Jaune ushered the pair pushing the gurney away as fast as possible, before he turned to the man holding the cords that were previously bound Violet Shadow to the chair.

Jaune: Burn those at once!

The henchmen nodded his head as he put the cords in a bag, and sprinted out of the room.

Jaune: Sterilize the chair first, she was sitting on it! And, clean the table, she had blood dripping down her chin, she may have spat blood on the table. Go!

Jaune watched as the cleaning crew swiftly got to work, they had shut the door, and made sure no one would come in, that was until the door was suddenly opened. They all turned around, as fear filled their veins, had they been caught.

: Ahh there you are, Jaune. I need... Is everything okay, Jaune?

Jaune: Ohh... thank gods it's you, Cinder... Get back to work!

Cinder Fall, the second highest ranked member of the, Cabal. Jaune. and the rest of the henchmen breathed a sigh of relief, before jumping back to work.

Cinder: Everything alright, Jaune?

Jaune: Violet Shadow was here.

Cinder: Ohh... Code: Bull Heart. Did you get rid of her?

Jaune: Yeah. Her traded her freedom for knowledge about a, Dust shipment from the SDC that contains fifty pounds of, Rainbow Dust.

Cinder: Fifty pounds? That's good, even if there isn't that much, Rainbow Dust on the train we can recoup our losses from the trade deal.

Jaune: My thoughts exactly as well. As much as I wanted a good deal, I wanted her out of here more so.

Cinder: Understandable. But, for what it was, it is a good enough deal.

Jaune: Hopefully the higherups are okay with it.

Cinder: I'll make sure they do.

Jaune: My thanks. Now then, did you need something, Cinder.

Cinder: Yes, the Boss wants to see you.

Jaune: Roman? Alright, I'll go, and see him when I'm done here.

Cinder: No, The Boss wants to see you.

Jaune: Oh... I best get going then.

Jaune: Alright guys, when you're done here, clean up the rest of the interrogation cells after, they'll get suspicious if we only clean one of them.

Goon#3: We're on it, Jaune!

Goon#4: We get a bonus for this right?

Goon#1: Hazard pay.

Goon#4: Hell yeah!

Jaune: Good luck boys. Alright then, time to go see, The Boss...

///

Bahh! This has been stuck in my drafts as a title for months! Now, I am free of it!

FREE!

#rwby #jaune arc #blake belladonna #adam taurus #ilia amitola #cinder fall #roman torchwick

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vettelsvee · 10 months ago

Text

I CAN BUY YOU SOME FLOWERS | Sebastian Vettel

f1 masterlist | wattpad | ao3 | requests or let's talk!

redbull sebastian vettel x journalist!reader

word count: 1955

warnings: seb just being a flirt and then, a shy sunshine who just wants to surprise reader :) use of y/n.

After an intense race dominated by Red Bull, with Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber securing a 1-2 finish, respectively, it was Y/N Y/L/N's turn to interview the winner. With her notebook in one hand and a recorder in another, she quickly adjusted her attire to look as presentable as possible before the interview with who she considered her favorite person to interview started.

"Congratulations, Sebastian!" the girl began as the blonde approached her. "As always, an impressive victory. How do you feel about it? You've achieved, if I'm not wrong, a total of six consecutive wins this season."

"Thank you very much, Y/N," Vettel replied as professionally as he could. "It was a really tough race. We had to push hard and extract energy from the car where there wasn't any to maintain our lead," he explained, focusing his gaze on the journalist. "Still, I can't help but be happy with the result. The team has done an incredible job."

Y/L/N was nervous. She knew that, sooner or later, the world champion would start with the back-and-forth banter so characteristic of their relationship, punctuated with his... kinda romantic jokes.

"Let's talk about today's strategy," the journalist abruptly changed the subject, following the agenda outlined in her notebook. "Do you think it lived up to previous ones, or should it improve in any aspect for future races?"

Sebastian laughed, crossing his arms.

"I don't think I should tell you anything about strategies just in case the other teams hear us, Y/N. But for you... I'll say that strategy is like dancing in a nightclub," the blonde explained. "Sometimes it's crowded, and you have no space. Other times, the floor is all yours, and there are moments when you have to improvise to get the girl, and that's what I did today, trusting myself and my instincts."

She nodded, inwardly amused by the ridiculous comparison made by the current championship leader.

"So, you see," he continued, "it seems the strategy turned out to be a success. I hope Horner and Marko are proud of me."

"They surely are, Sebastian," the journalist affirmed. "And now, I'd like to move on to talk about your teammate, Mark Webber. Your ups and downs are known worldwide, especially among your team's loyal followers. Is there anything you'd like to highlight about him? We've never heard you say anything positive about the Australian, and I'd like to give that scoop to the world."

"You're right. If I don't mention Mark, he'll probably give me a good scolding as soon as I finish talking to you," Vettel commented in a mocking tone. "Okay, I'll be honest with you: if it weren't for them, I wouldn't have many great races. But don't tell Mark or his ego will skyrocket!"

The young woman laughed once again. She knew that, in some way, Sebastian was right, but she was also aware of all the great achievements he had accomplished as the three-time world champion.

"Don't worry, Sebastian," the brunette assured him, "your secret is safe with me."

"Call me Seb, darling."

There it was.

The moment she, deep down, had been waiting for. Sebastian the flirt Vettel had once again made a stellar appearance, and the journalist was sure he wouldn't leave anytime soon.

She didn't know why it mattered to her. After all, he had the same stupid behavior with the rest of the female journalists.

She wasn't special.

"Let me improvise a bit, Seb," she suggested, emphasizing the pilot's nickname.

Before he could utter a word, the girl was already formulating the question that had been eating away at her every time she saw the seductive side of the man in front of her.

"Everyone knows that you're quite the charmer. Why do you show this kind of character every time you have an interview, especially with people of the opposite sex?"

Vettel chuckled, somewhat surprised by the question even though he didn't want to admit it. If there was one thing he had liked about Y/N Y/L/N from the moment he met her it was how direct she was in each of the interviews he had had the pleasure of conducting with her.

"Are you seriously accusing me of being the greatest seducer Formula 1 has ever seen?" the pilot asked with a mischievous smirk. "What can I say: it's all because of the adrenaline of the races. I also quite enjoy female company, especially yours."

The woman exhaled, knowing it was one of his many tactics to charm women into bed, as she had heard from other colleagues.

"I'm just being myself, enjoying the moment, and speaking my mind, trying not to mess up too much because, as you may have noticed, I don't always come out on top," the blonde continued, now completely opening up to the woman.

"You have a natural charm that makes you very special. Now I understand why you have so many fans," the journalist clarified. "Sometimes it feels like a One Direction concert here!"

"Yeah, I've heard of them," Seb said casually. "But I think it's also because I enjoy the conversations many of them offer me, because they're very beautiful. But not more than you, by the way."

Sebastian Vettel was totally playing with her, but try as she might, she couldn't help but start to fall for his charms.

"Oh, wow... Thank you, Seb," Y/N whispered, blushing.

"I'm just saying the truth. I mean it."

The young woman was static, unsure whether to believe what the pilot was telling her at that moment. His eyes seemed sincere, and as her grandmother used to say: eyes never lie.

"Changing the subject, princess. What are your favorite flowers?"

"Tulips," the young woman blurted out without thinking, impressed by Sebastian's compliments. "If it's possible, yellow ones."

"Noted," the blonde replied, touching his temple with his index finger.

"But why are you asking me this...?"

However, Sebastian Vettel was already walking away from the girl accompanied by Britta, his PR. The last thing Y/N saw before turning around was Seb smiling at her as he waved with his left hand, and all the media astonished by the conversation they had witnessed between them.

It had been a few weeks, almost a month, since Y/N had her last interaction with Sebastian, and to say she missed him was an understatement. The summer break had allowed her to rest and, fortunately, disconnect from everything, although not as much as she would have liked.

Most importantly, despite her incredible memory, she didn't remember a part of the conversation she had with the German.

So, as soon as she returned to work at the Belgian Grand Prix and found a large and beautiful bouquet of tulips in her hotel room, along with a box of chocolates and an anonymous note, she was surprised. No one cared about her enough to behave in such a way.

The same thing happened the night before the qualifying session at Monza. When she opened her door to go to the buffet for dinner, her eyes lit up upon discovering a large bouquet of yellow tulips on the floor, arranged in a green vase. Next to them was a handwritten note that read, "For the most charming journalist. Enjoy these tulips and rest for tomorrow's race, you deserve it for all the hard work you're doing. With love, you're number 1 fan."

Curious and excited, she took, somewhat trembling hands due to nervousness, a small wrapped box hanging from the vase. Carefully, she began to open it, revealing a silver necklace with a pendant in the shape of a Formula 1 steering wheel, something she was passionate about.

A few weeks later, the Friday before the Singapore Grand Prix, Y/N was busy finishing preparing some questions and other different dynamics from the usual ones for the meetings she had with the drivers, including Sebastian. As she finished and made her way from her hotel to the circuit to do her job, she saw something that puzzled her: a figure that looked quite familiar was standing in front of a flower stall, casually choosing a bouquet of tulips and communicating with the vendor as best he could.

She stopped dead in her tracks, surprised, though not as much as she had expected, to recognize Sebastian as the cause of all those details that had been reaching her since last August. Although she was aware that she was running late and might miss the opportunity to speak with some other drivers, she couldn't miss the chance to see how the German was preparing everything.

Sebastian, after some indecision, chose a bouquet of tulips, but this time they were white. After exchanging a few words with the shopkeeper and having paid and thanked him for his service, he left with a big smile on his face.

So it was Vettel all this time..., the girl thought to herself.

When she arrived at the paddock, she found the German driver sitting in a corner away from all the hustle and bustle writing a note. The look of concentration he showed while writing, with his tongue sticking out slightly, melted the journalist's heart.

Undoubtedly, if Seb was doing this, she didn't know what to think about it. Maybe she had judged him too quickly, and he wasn't as much of a womanizer as she initially thought he could be.

After a few minutes, eaten away by impatience, she decided to approach him. As Sebastian looked up and met her gaze, she couldn't hide her nerves.

"Oh, hi, Y/N," he greeted, blushing. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Looks like I caught, huh?" she questioned. "You seemed very focused preparing another one of your famous surprises."

Sebastian laughed nervously; he was definitely caught red-handed. He knew it would happen sooner or later, but he still didn't feel ready to face the girl he loved.

"It seems so. Surprise?"

"Why didn't you ever tell me it was you behind all of this?" the journalist scolded. "You have no idea the headaches I've had these past few months."

"Well..." the boy started, playing with his hands. "I wanted it to be a surprise, and maybe... I was also a bit afraid of how you would react to knowing it was me. I know you think I go from flower to flower, like a sailor, and I thought you might have a bit of a grudge against me for that," he confessed.

Y/N felt weird, because that was exactly what she had been thinking all this time about the driver with whom she had had to spend so much time in interviews, press conferences, and other events.

Once again, life was teaching her not to judge people by their appearances or the comments of others.

"Sebastian," Y/N began, "I loved receiving the surprises you had prepared, but you didn't need to hide behind anonymity. I would have preferred them if you had been more direct."

"Really?" Vettel replied, looking at her intently. "I didn't think you'd like me showing up at your door with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, a box of chocolates, and singing you a song like some mariachis."

"In fact, I would have liked it a lot," she contradicted him. "It shows that you care about whatever you want to have with me and, above all, that you make efforts to make me feel special."

Was Y/N intimidating a three-time Formula 1 world champion?

"Then I think it's time for the surprises to stop being anonymous," Sebastian declared, doing his best to calm his anxiety. "Give me an opportunity and I'll show you how much you mean to me right now, and how important you can be in my life in the future."

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boyfhee · 2 years ago

Text

FAIR AND SQUARE › lhs

SYNOPSIS › one thing about life— it's unpredictable. for example, you made a note to yourself about not associating too much with heeseung for your own peace of mind, letting him stay as the academic rival slash classmate that he is, instead of allowing him to be something more, except one thing leads to another and you find yourself face to face with the said man with your feelings all over the place. a lowkey confession leading to a mere competition, let the game begin.

WORD COUNT › 20.2k

GENRE › academic rivals / friends to lovers, mutual pinning because they're just competitive and oblivious ft in denial, fem reader, quite the 'he fell first but she fell harder' thing eye guess . . .

WARNINGS › mentions drinking, sheds light on family issues ( mostly on the reader's side ) bruise and injury, slightest of angst, arguments, suggestive ( fourth section, towards the end ) profanities, let me know if you spot more

PLAYLIST › tune in for a better experience

NOTE › i love this fic with all my heart and lungs, even more. anyway, i'm sorry to academic rivals fans, this doesn't have academic blood and gore, as quoted by my dear mai. SPEAKING OF MAI EVERYONE THANK @maiverie FOR BETAREADING THIS FIC!!!!!! im not lying when i say i wouldn't have finished writing this yesterday if it wasn't for her, like thank u for ur super helpful review that got my brain juices flowing :< luv u fr. ALSO both heeseung and reader are taking post grad course so of course, they're aged up ( no ages specified ) have fun reading.

I. BANE OF EXISTENCE

one thing about life— it’s unpredictable.

for example, you’re in the library writing and reading papers on the topic you love, the one that you’re supposed to enjoy and the one that will become the reason behind your earnings in the near future, but here you are, sitting with a headache and a cup of coffee on the side. who knew the subject you've liked since grade one will betray you and become the potential bane of your existence? not you, surely enough. wednesday noons are for basketball matches, which explains why the library and hallways are quieter and emptier than usual. even the teachers make time for the tournaments off their busy schedules, it’s understandable— your university is known for having one of the best sports teams in the league, and the basketball team being the defending champions does nothing but fuel the pride of students and staffs as if they’re the ones on the court, trying to get the ball in the basket.

you wouldn’t say you don’t like being a part of the crowd because you’ve been to the badminton tournaments and know that watching matches is as interesting as playing, if not more. you just don’t have the time to attend any. with assignments piling up and exams ‘round the corner, you’d rather spend your last two months of the semester studying instead of yelling at the bleachers. you can always get the recordings if you ever feel like watching one, as for the results, the word goes around faster in your department than anywhere else, all because of one of the students being on the team.

you try focusing, you really do, but your cup is just as empty as your brain and your phone is going up with notifications. you don’t see the point of miyeon spamming the gc with updates on the match when everyone in the group, except you, is with her, watching and cheering alongside. muting is a choice which you choose not to do, and the reason is between you and god, to be honest. long story short, it’s the lack of motivation clogging your thought process and the realisation that your friends are out there enjoying themselves unlike you is blocking any means of logical thinking. a day or two spent not studying wouldn’t make you fail the classes, and even if the guilt is pooling inside, you pack your stuff and walk out of the library, making your way to the indoor basketball court.

the screams grow louder as you approach, each step reminding you that you still can go back as you choose to ignore it. exams can wait, you tell yourself, a day to myself can’t. your mother would tell you to take breaks and go out instead of studying all day, but being on top is an addiction. it’s no good, you wish other students would believe you, it’s a struggle, on the top, at the bottom, everywhere. you expect to turn a few heads as soon as you walk inside, which doesn’t happen, but you expected it. you don’t watch matches, this could easily be your third or fourth one, and the first basketball match, to be more specific. once you realise that everyone is busy watching the plays instead of noticing who comes and goes from the court, you make your way up to the one friend you manage to spot amidst the crowd— sung hanbin. indoor bleachers feel more compact than the outdoor ones. you've been to the football match last semester, courtesy of miyeon, and everything being outdoors really helps with the crowd and noise.

“didn’t expect to see you here,” hanbin stands next to you, offering you a sip or two from his drink, which you politely refuse, eyes fixed on the court as if it was the home they’ve been searching for. “i thought you hate heeseung,” it isn’t until he takes his name that your gaze averts to heeseung. you don’t even know why hanbin would outright assume you’re here for heeseung. in fact, that man’s name didn’t even cross your mind until he was mentioned.

“hate is a big word, ‘bin,” your words are more of a whisper laced with hesitation, as if you aren’t sure of what you’re saying. hate, actually, is a very big and heavy word. despite its constant usage with your friends, you realise the weight it holds and the impact it has. hate and dislike— they’re different and yet similar enough to be used synonymously at times. not by you, of course, you have a clear distinction between the two, and as of now, you don’t know if what you feel for heeseung is a mere dislike or pure hatred. “i just don’t like him,”

when he successfully shoots a three-pointer, you come to the decision that you definitely don’t hate him. heeseung is, more or less, the typical all-rounder straight-A student, the jack of all trades and fortunately enough, the master of all as well. he's the student teachers use as an example, the son parents wish for, the boyfriend people wished they had. lee heeseung is many things, and one of those is being the reason why you have the second highest score in your department instead of the first position, unlike how it used to be two semesters ago.

heeseung transferred departments about thirty weeks ago, from chemistry to bioinformatics. it had been surprising on your side because not many opted for bioinformatics until they were certain of their goal. the course in itself is vast, like an ocean of several different fields and each and every one of them opens a door to a different outcome. bioinformatics isn’t something students picked overnight just because it had the vacancy and they didn’t like their initially chosen courses. as fun as the subject sounds, it demands consistency and time, something that heeseung lacks. you had seen him attend classes the first few weeks regularly, and then the ghost of him started sitting on the empty seat that belongs to him. skipping classes, arriving late, delayed submission of a couple of projects— you knew he wasn’t here to stay. it was to pass time, or whatever, you couldn’t care, didn’t care, not until he started acing the tests, practically dethroning you from your infamous ‘perfect all kill’ title that you had for getting nothing less than a perfect score, most of the time, give and take a few here and there.

you still get good scores, amazing even, full score in theory and the same in practicals. it’s going well in lab manuals and project works but heeseung seems to get a perfect score in those too, something you started missing ever since he came into the picture. perhaps, it was something in the way he phrased his essays— you hoped it was. rumour has it that heeseung used to be a literature student, which could explain his outstanding english skills and his eloquent way of speaking. you even looked up his debate videos on youtube only to find more evidence on how skilled he is in public speaking.

but above all, heeseung is, actually, just a really damn annoying student, quite literally the bane of your existence. he’s always set on stealing people’s spotlight during lessons, with you being the people, obviously, always answering questions with information that’s unrelated and probably even unnecessary. and for the shortest time, you even considered taking him off your ‘things i hate’ list because you were no different in highschool. when you’re the top student, it becomes a habit to talk about things as if you know them in your bones and impress teachers. hell, you even had rivals in highschool, although none of them got on your nerves the way heeseung does. basically, he has no reason to call you by weird names everytime you both pass each other in the hallways, or remind you that he’s the top student. ‘this is the vice-captain of the basketball team and the best student of the biotechnology department, lee heeseung, informing you on the up—’ seriously, no one wants to hear him introduce himself like that when you’re around. you’re pretty sure it’s engraved inside your brain with the amount of times he repeats it everyday. minjeong even says that heeseung is becoming more and more like sunghoon, and you would not know how or why because you didn’t attend highschool with sunghoon, unlike her.

the court flares up with cheers when heeseung goes for a dunk which ultimately leads to their team winning the match, and you reach the conclusion that maybe you don’t hate heeseung but actually want to bang his head against the walls. your eyes follow him around the court, analysing his conduct during the match, the way he communicates so effortlessly with teammates using hand signs or quick phrases, the way he holds the team together when the ball is with him, despite not being the captain. heeseung might be the most unbearable person you’ve met so far, he’s actually just fine when his target is not you. you’re sure any other player is doing just as good but nothing comes close to how you see heeseung. it’s different, the light he is in, it’s unique, incredible, and inexplicably addictive. heeseung juggles between classes and basketball, you remember sunghoon talking about his part-time job when you passed by their lockers the other day. he doesn’t have it easy, you don’t either, but you had those all perfect kills by spending hours in your study while heeseung does better than you while winning matches, making money.

it doesn’t take you long to realise that what you have for him could be dislike with a hint of jealousy, and you wonder if all the people would react the same way once they know who heeseung really is— a devil behind an angelic face, one who deliberately likes ruining things for you, as if his life depends on it. you still remember the day he personally texted you the wrong syllabus for a test, claiming that it had been updated and the professor had asked him to notify everyone. ‘and as you know, i have not been added in the group chat yet so i’m texting everyone personally,’ he had lied ever so smoothly as if his words consist of nothing but truth, as if lies are something he hasn’t even heard of. kudos to you for studying the original and correct syllabi beforehand, you still aced the test, if heeseung scoring the first rank is overlooked.

you’re dragged back from your thoughts to the reality when a boy bumps into you while hurrying down to the players, hoping to get noticed. half of the students act like the team is actually a boy-band, you can see them on the front page of every single edition of university magazine. usually, you prefer waiting for the crowd to disperse before taking your leave from wherever you are, but a sudden reminder about the tests over text from your professor gives you a reason to leave early, all to make sure you could catch up to heeseung. you rush your way out of the bleachers once the teams start leaving the court, eyes fixed on heeseung to take a note of the direction he leaves. hanbin gives you a confused look before the words find their way out of his mouth. “where are you going?”

“basketball shower room,” and your words could give him, and the other people who might’ve heard you, a wrong idea but you couldn’t care less. the goal was to see heeseung before he leaves the campus, which was highly likely because no one has it in them to attend four hours of classes after an exhausting match, not even heeseung, no matter how amazing he is.

you make your way through the ocean of people, bumping into a few in the process as you make your way to the club room. a silent profanity leaves your mouth once you realise that the club room entrance might be filled with fangirls and boys, left and right, and the thought of shuffling your way out of the crowd to meet heeseung makes you reconsider your actions. heeseung might be a star student but isn’t amazing enough for you to step out of your comfort zone and do things to see him.

“well, this is surprising,” your voice manages to turn his head towards the door. “thought you’d be busy with your fangirls, lee,” and it is surprising indeed because the hallways are unexpectedly empty with only a few people around. you would say they learnt to give the players their space after a game but that would be a lie considering the embarrassing history of students when it comes to people on the sports team.

“they’re probably busy with jake,” heeseung responds with a smile, and even though he turns to his locker just as quickly, you could see the smile dancing on the corner of his lips.

jake is rather a new player, a junior to be specific, and jay personally spent days waiting outside the physics department to get the guy on the basketball team. explains why he’s popular amidst students, he’s talented, good at studies— seriously, you wouldn’t understand how these people manage academics with sports. you couldn’t, and even if you managed to, you would end up passing out every few days. “does it suck to lose your fan-following to a newbie?”

“not really. i still have you here,” heeseung wouldn’t call it ‘losing’ his fan-following because he’s using jake as bait to escape the crowd of students as quickly as possible. a junior has to make sacrifices, in this case it’s to save heeseung by sacrificing himself to the public. although, saying that he still has you looking for him even though a hundred others aren’t makes him feel better about himself. “no but seriously, what did you come here for?”

“oh, it’s for the test on friday,” you pull out your phone, opening the group chat with the professor and the students who took the same course. it’s laughable how the universe put you in the exact same situation twice, although with the tables turned this time, and it takes everything in you to not tell him a made-up, wrong syllabi, and do what is rational. “the syllabi was extended up to chapter fourteen, till page three-ninety-seven. they sent it in the group chat this morning but i’m sure you hardly have time even to think about something else except basketball,”

you’ve known heeseung for two semesters but that’s for the people to say. the truth is, you don’t know him outside what he shows to everyone else. you see him come and go, spot him around the bar with his friends on weekends you pass by it. you know he skips classes and asks students for notes. it’s not necessarily from you, though you’d prefer if he would ask you since you’re the best student in the whole department, after him, as much as you hate to admit it. on some days, you see him in the library, earphones plugged in. if you manage to sneak a glance or two, you’d catch him watching the match recordings and taking notes, you wouldn’t know what notes someone could take from matches. in short, you don’t know heeseung more than how everyone knows him. coming to the shower rooms and notifying him about the test might just be a discreet attempt at striking up more conversations with him, but also, you’re just fine with him being the academic rival slash classmate that he is.

“yeah, semi-finals,” heeseung shuts his locker close, a sigh falling off his lips just like the water drops falling on his shoulder from the tips of his hair, after a shower. “doesn’t help that they’re at the same time as the quarterly assessments. thank you for telling me even though it means you’ll end up losing the first position to me once again,” and of course, the heeseung you know wouldn’t waste an opportunity to strike up a competition. it would be a lie if you claim to hate it because despite the sour look on your face, a part of you loves these little academic races with him. heeseung makes you strive to do better, he’s like the driving force you lacked which made college a whole lot better. after all, where’s the fun in getting a perfect score with the bare minimum effort, without some challenges knocking at your door?

“what can i do, i’m all about fair play,” there’s a subtle shade behind your words, reckoning to the multiple incidents of him ruining things for you. this could take a really nasty turn if you were to resort to his ways, except you won’t because you’re better than him. “good luck, and we’ll see who loses the first position to whom,”

heeseung wipes his hair before switching to texting on his phone, the smile still adorning his face like a jewel. you assume it’s the delight from winning a match, it’s obvious. his eyes couldn’t help but sparkle at every little achievement, always looking forward to something more, something challenging, that’s lee heeseung for you— someone who knows he has an easier way around things but would deliberately walk down another path and test his limits. shocking how it took you one basketball match to see the passion he has for things he’s interested in, that he’s more than a sport jock or a straight nerd, he’s more than someone who takes courses to pass time, more than someone who is just a show-off.

“heeseung,” the dislike, the hatred, the envy, it might all be a lie. “well played today,” because in the end, there’s a minimal possibility that you’re leaving the room with nothing but the slightest of admiration for the guy who is nothing but an obstacle between you and that first position in upcoming finals in two months.

and it would be a lie too to claim that your words didn’t catch heeseung by surprise.

II. RIVALRY, FEELINGS, ETCETERA.

it has been a little over one day since heeseung’s conversation with you outside the shower rooms, twenty-seven hours to be exact. twenty-seven hours of him hearing the same last words over and over again, twenty-seven hours of him failing all and any attempts at straight thinking and twenty-seven hours of him not thinking about anything except you. all of it ends up in three hours of practice and not one good shot from heeseung. the sighs and snickers from teammates fill the court every few seconds— truthfully, they never leave. heeseung is simply too lost to pay attention to them.

“heeseung, you good?” a pat on shoulder from jake and the words following soon after manage to pull him out of his spiral of thought, even if it’s for a brief second.

“he’s not, won’t be anytime soon,” sunghoon replies as if the answer was on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be revealed. “yn came to watch the last match, after all,” there’s a smirk on sunghoon’s face, heeseung can tell it in the intonation of his words.

jay pauses just seconds before going for a layup, joining the conversation. “wait, she did?”

“yep, saw her standing next to that hanbin guy or something,”

“mate, you cannot be acting like this over a girl and that too, four days before finals,” this conversation, as a whole, is beyond jake’s comprehension. a part of the reason could be because he joined the team late, thus missing out on a huge chunk of internal jokes and gossip and goes amidst the players. and no amount of reasons can convince him into thinking that it’s fine to act out-of-character before important matches just because your crush showed up at one of your matches.

“she’s not just some random girl. she never attends matches, but she came to watch my match,” heeseung clarifies as if the reasons behind his antics are valid and acceptable. “you wouldn’t know how i feel right now,”

“you’re on cloud nine, we know, your crush gave you the attention you’ve been lacking but trust me, she would ignore you just as efficiently if she sees you perform like this,”

“she’s not a crush,” and despite it being a well known fact amongst the basketball team that heeseung has a thing or two for you, he always refuses to accept it. one can say it’s the pride thing. you barely even talk to him unless it’s about studies, and your conversations are mostly along the lines of who outdoes whom in tests and assessments. moreover, everyone knows heeseung is the reason why you’re the second best student in the department— as much as you hate to admit it, again— because he transferred and flipped your world, probably even dribbled around with it like a basketball. a word goes around every few days about you glaring at him in class, which is not true, you’re instead focusing your eyes on something in an attempt to think. he just happens to sit right in front of you and be the object of focus. heeseung might as well believe that you hate him, even though yesterday’s conversation was far from how people talk when they hate each other, and his assumptions could account for the constant words of denial that fall off his lips.

jay snickers before landing a hook successfully. “yeah, and i’m a pigeon,”

“oh, shut it, jay,” heeseung turns to look at the other boy. “she’s just someone i admire. have you read her essays? her papers? god, we’re a year away from graduation but she’s already writing mind-blowing papers, one of them was even published in the monthly issue of some magazine. she’s already on her best performance and still tries to do better, always down to guide juniors with lab work and also is on the research team for the paediatrics department at asan medical centre. all this, and she studies all day. if i were her, i’d pass out. i can’t go a day without entering the court,”

“and he says he doesn’t have a crush oh her,” sunghoon rolls his eyes, it’s like if he heard another line of excuses from heeseung, he could see the back of his skull and have a look at hs big, fat brain.

“because i don’t? you guys never had someone you admired so much that they practically became your role model despite being in the same year?” unlike other things that heeseung does, calling you his role model has a reason. first, it can give him a reason to talk to you. heeseung is almost convinced that you hate him, and if this persists, it would get harder and harder for him to approach you, but with the lie— half lie— of you being his role model and so wonderful that he couldn’t help but admire you from afar while trying to overcome his social anxiety gives him a reason to talk to you. plus, it sounds plausible, he doesn’t understand why his brother says it’s bound to fail.

the second reason and more to do with his friend group. no one in his friend circle is capable of keeping a secret— jay ends up spilling tea unconsciously, jake tells one person who he trust and that person turns out to be the most untrustworthy person ever, beomgyu, well he’s on the team but telling him would be like standing on a stage and announcing to the whole campus, and sunghoon, he’s the mother, he cannot digest food without disclosing secrets. even if it’s common knowledge that heeseung has a tiny crush on you, denying it in front of the whole campus everytime one of them brings it up helps him with his reputation and fortunately, ends up keeping it a secret. besides, he’d rather have people tease him for calling you his role model than having a crush on you.

“i surely don’t have someone i admire to the point i read all their papers and know each and everything they’ve volunteered for,” jay argues back, set on proving his point. “tell me what am i gonna do knowing that she’s on the paediatrics research team?”

“i think this is the most i’ve known about yn ever since classes started and that too, because of heeseung,” beomgyu chuckles, earning a side eye from heeseung in the process.

“enough, let’s get back to practice,” heeseung intervenes in an attempt to change the topic. he does not want his closest friends making fun of him for liking someone— it’s supposed to be human nature to have a crush.

“you get back to practice because you’re the only one fucking up because of your silly little crush. i’m done, jay, call me when we’re having a practice match because i need to attend theology or my professor would write me up,” taehyun passes the ball to sunghoon, the latter yelping in surprise at the sudden yet successful catch.

“i don’t have a crush—”

“of course, let’s get you back to practice,” jake cuts heeseung off mid sentence, moving back to take his position as sunghoon passes the ball to heeseung, who, as expected, misses the catch due to lack of concentration.

it’s going to be a long day for the team.

“a little birdie told me you went to see heeseung in the shower rooms?” are the words you hear as soon as your classes are dismissed, miyeon walking up to you and hanbin discussing the set of questions your professor distributed just a few minutes ago.

“i didn’t go into the shower rooms, i was outside, near the lockers,” and there’s a difference. to be in the shower room implies you were there in the shower, which definitely gives rise to several wrong ideas of different levels. specifically, you didn’t even enter the locker room. you were outside, leaning against the door, watching heeseung as he walked freshly out of the shower, a towel around his neck, you both strike up a small talk. yeah, that was the scene, not with you in the shower and whatever miyeon’s imagination leads to after that.

“so you did go!” she claps her hands together as if it’s a celebratory occasion, turning her head to look at the boy next to you. “what were you saying about yn not having a crush, habin?”

“it’s not a crush, miyeon,” and it’s true— heeseung is not a crush. he’s a classmate, a rival, an over-qualified and impossibly competitive student, someone you would want to take your time to study. “what, i can’t even go to tell a classmate about the updated syllabus for a test now? i would’ve done that for anyone, not just heeseung,”

hanbin sighs, packing his bag. “sure, but he’s in the groupchat. he could’ve checked it himself,”

“um, i doubt that,” you’re preparing a powerpoint in your head, multiple slides on why you needed to do what you did. “he’s busy with basketball and i know how he gets when the matches are around the corner. don’t you remember how he skipped two weeks of classes straight because of matches last semester? and it’s the finals this time, i don’t think he even opens texts about anything that’s not basketball. i mean, he responded to my messages six days later because he was busy with practice,”

you say it like you’ve known heeseung for a decade and have been through the ups and downs with him. you wouldn’t care about who does what in the classes, if it’s a paper plane flying right over you, landing just second to the first row of seats or if it’s someone being brave enough and playing music during lectures. biology, in your opinion, is a subject for those who are serious about doing something unique while staying in the academic field. you don’t encounter troublemakers often, once a blue moon if the heavens make a mistake. on other days, it’s quieter than a library, emptier than cemeteries at night.

to think your life as a biotechnology major got interesting after heeseung switched majors is astonishing and equally debatable.

“i don’t see why i should remember all that about ‘just a classmate’ but thanks for telling,” and before you know it, hanbin and miyeon are out of the class, on their way to wherever their next stop is. seriously, they’re having it easier than you. they go to games, movies, drink on weekends— something you haven’t had a taste on ever since the year started. somewhere, you could be blamed for your hectic schedules. studies, lab work, and thesis, they suffice for all the stress a student in post graduation studies can handle. volunteering and writing papers is on you, things wouldn’t have been arduous if you had decided to move slowly, one step at a time. sometimes, the hunger for more leaves you starving— quite literally.

you spend an hour or so in the classroom along with a few other students, going through the same old routine of yours— watch videos, take notes, transfer them to your document in your own words and make it sound as innovative and convincing as possible. heeseung would be better at this than you. you’re exhausted to the point that accepting your defeat to him doesn’t even faze you anymore. he used to be a literature student, had english as a side course as an undergrad, he’s bound to be better than making essays sound they came right out of shakespeare's drafts, phrases and metaphors that would put fitzgerald to shame.

you didn’t care about what went down in your classes until heeseung came along. call it craziness or the weird impression you have of students in your field, heeseung is far from the typical biotechnology student aiming for a postgraduate degree. he skips classes, plays basketball as if studies are a side business, and yet still manages to ace every test like an all-rounder. he shouldn’t even be in classroom, he should be in the labs, being the most important subject of studies. there are days you think of him as a social experiment— how quickly can a robot piss off a straight-A student with its impeccable skills— of course, the subjects wouldn’t know it’s a robot but you do, you’re almost convinced he is one. there’s no way he’s the top student with the amount of effort he puts in. one would claim that he studies after classes, at home slash dorms, but you can bet your life he doesn’t. there have been numerous instances when you’ve spotted him in the background of someone’s picture at a bar. he’s always with people, he has a humongous friend group, god knows how someone can live like that. at first, you were convinced he isn’t real, as worrisome as it sounds, and if he is real then he needs to be studied.

which leads to what you’re doing right now— making your way to the basketball court. you don’t know how or why you’re doing it. you started with your studies, ended up thinking about heeseung, and now you’re on your way to the basketball court. although, it’s not half a bad idea, now that you think about it once again.

your mind goes all the way back to when you watched him play for the first time, which was just a day ago actually. you don’t know anything about basketball, you don’t know much about heeseung either, but there’s one thing you’re sure of— heeseung is class and heeseung on the court, they’re different. you’ve noticed the way he clicks his pen relentlessly out of nervousness when he can’t solve a question, the way his back tenses up for a fraction of a second as soon as he’s asked to explain something. you’ve seen the hints of fear in his eyes when he asked you for notes last semester just three days before exams, scared that he would fail. heeseung isn’t sure of a lot of things and basketball isn’t one of those.

“you’re not practising?” you ask him when you swim out of your thoughts, watching him climb up the bleachers and sit next to you. the court seems much better when it’s empty, free from the loud cheers of spectators, but that could be just you.

“i was, as you see, but i saw you up here and thought it was time for a break,” you could see his teammates shake heads at him in disappointment, proceeding to continue with their practice. “what’s up?”

you don’t respond to him and instead, take your time watching the others practise their shots. you watch the way one of them, who you think is taehyun, goes for a dunk, credits to hanbin for telling you names for a few shots. next to you, heeseung shouts out a tip or two for the boy for him to have an easier and effective approach at the said move. heeseung is good at dunks, you’ve heard it from students, you’ve seen it in the last match as well. just one shot was enough to tell you how good he is at it, it’s like basketball flows in his veins, like he can close his eyes and still manage to get a basket.

your eyes ghost up the court and shift to him— there’s a content smile on his face, a relaxed posture as if there’s nothing for him to worry about. he takes a sip from his energy drink, you wonder if he, or anyone from the team, even gets time to have their meals. the expression on his face, it’s something you’ve never seen on him during lessons. it takes you back to the match, how he looked on court a day before, certain of every move he made, every step, every breath, without doubts, no second thoughts. you’ve done enough lab projects with heeseung to know how his hands shake when he’s preparing a slide or extracting a sample from a centrifuge, afraid that one wrong move and he would mess up the efforts of everyone in the group. that hesitation is nowhere to be seen on the court, gone like it has never existed. as if lee heeseung, the star student and player, has never had an encounter with nervousness and hesitation in his life. there’s a thin line between studies and sport for him, you finally realise it after much consideration. maybe, you’re going beyond your boundaries and making assumptions about a guy you barely know, even if you would never voice all these thoughts to him, you think you know the reason why there’s a different him on the stage when the ball is in hands.

“how did you realise that you like basketball? you know, like it enough to devote so much of your time and have it alongside studies?” because even if biotech is something he’s studying and wants to make a career in, you guess that it’s just a source of satisfaction. in your eyes, through your perception, basketball is what makes him truly happy.

you don’t know why someone wouldn’t pick satisfaction over happiness, especially when it’s coming with its hands full of opportunities to grab that bag.

“eh, i don’t have a sob story about it, if that is what you’re hoping for,” he chugs down the contents of the can before crushing it to the slightest, eyes squinting at the opposite wall before they move back to meet yours. “i never had to sit and think about basketball and studies, you know, as in how am i going to manage both of them. it just happened. i started playing basketball in middle school and it has been with me ever since,”

heeseung’s side of the story is simple— a mediocre guy who was introduced to sports by his older brother and now, it’s one of the most important things in his life. middle school heeseung preferred staying in and playing video games instead of going out. in fact, middle school heeseung resembles you in all the ways that make him different from you right now. he has been good at learning and remembering things, he takes liking to things quicker than others do. basketball was like for him— easy, quick, fun, like a way to release all the stress after a long day at school. in heeseung’s story, there isn’t a main character who helped him choose the path he’s walking right now. instead, all he had was his family who introduced him to the various aspects and opportunities, and he simply ended up joining hands with the ones he liked, deciding to not let it go before the dead end.

“i want to have that passion for things,” a soft laughter falls off your lips, it’s an attempt to make your sob story look less pitiful. “i used to paint and play piano— but painting, mostly, was really good at it. i learnt how to draw before i learnt how to tie my shoelaces. i couldn’t go a day without painting, but then highschool happened, i had pressure to do well, expectations from friends and family, had a dream outside painting, and now, i haven’t painted in years,”

unlike heeseung, art started as more than just a side business to you. it’s not something you were introduced to in the middle of your life but rather is something you grew up with. you can blame or credit your mother for making paintings and having them in almost every corner of your house. it’s one of the reasons why at five years old you were beyond fascinated at all the patterns and colours. no one would’ve guessed that science would manage to sweep you off your feet right from the first grade, given the way your hands danced a duet to their own melody along with a paintbrush, as if each stroke has a conscious life of its own. no one would’ve guessed that your mother would tell you to stop painting and focus on studies, neither would they have known that she would become the reason why you no longer feel the same way about art. as stated before, life is unpredictable— because no one would’ve guessed that sitting here on the bleachers with heeseung and sharing a piece of your life would water the seeds of doubts in your heart, the ones that bloom at the sight of him.

he thinks your story is sad— with all due respect, without sarcasm, of course. it’s the best he can say. “i think it’s more of a ‘connection’ thing. you think you’ve lost the connection but you simply need to pickup a canvas and some colours to relink, if you get me,” because heeseung has had somewhat of a same experience, with music, and sitting front of a piano to play one of sibelius’ symphonies after senior year highschool finals was all it took him to find his lost interest in music. even though it’s nothing more than just a hobby, even if it's just something he considers as a way to pass time, heeseung knows how it feels to let go of something that is an integral part of one’s life.

“it has always been about timing, heeseung,” you shake your head, trying to prove him wrong using your own arguments. “you think i haven’t tried painting again? i still have art supplies stacked up in my cupboard. it’s all about timing. when you like something, you only get a few chances to make sure it stays with you for a lifetime. how many people do you know who have given up on their hobbies because they claim to have lost interest? the thing is, the interest is still there, it’s the inability and fear of not being able to do it again. if you timing is off, no matter how much you try, things won’t work, and what you love will end up becoming a closed chapter of your life,”

a pause. he sits still, eyes admiring your face while his mind is busy replaying your words in the back of his head. heeseung wonders how valid they are when it comes to people. he likes you, despite the constant denial which is only for show, by the way. it doesn’t take a scientist to read him. reading him isn’t even close to rocket science, he doesn’t understand how you haven’t caught up even after being incredibly smart. he has seen you hang out with hanbin— heeseung hates that guy, by the way. there’s no solid logic, it’s just that hanbin seems to be around you all the time and heeseung thinks of him as a leech sucking blood off its host. heeseung would never admit but it’s just his jealousy playing tricks on him, and even though it doesn’t look like you have any romantic feelings towards that guy, it would be fucking embarrassing for heeseung lose you to a guy who isn’t even half as qualified as him. ( yes, he is judging characters based on academic qualifications, no heeseung wouldn’t explain why )

“i like you,” and so, he lets his feelings win for once, deciding to let his heart take control instead, closing doors to any room for rational thinking like it never existed. “you said it was about timing, about trying hard enough and having only a few chances, perhaps, just one bullet, and i’m shooting my shot right now. i don’t want to remember you as a closed chapter of my life,”

it would be such a waste of chemistry if you end up becoming just a closed chapter of his life. heeseung has done his research, more like reading tons of books and watching hundreds of movies to understand the potential that two academic rivals have. no one knows this, not even his closest friends, but heeseung’s favourite genre might simply be enemies to lovers and living that trope doesn’t sound as bad when it’s with you. he has spent hours thinking about the number of productive library dates you could have, working on projects together and brainstorming about the next biggest revolution in the RDT world, changing the public’s outlook at genetics forever. it sounds stupid and makes him sound even stupider, even as a lost cause, but heeseung doesn’t care. in his mind, it’s the best date someone could have. to live and become successful together, it sounds like a perfect plan to him.

truthfully, you have always been a part of heeseung’s future, near or distant. he always always pictures you in his life, standing next to him during graduation, bidding goodbyes at farewell, exchanging shy greetings at reunions ten years later while reminiscing about everything he did to irritate you, that would sound embarrassing a decade later. your presence will always be significant to him, he just hopes to remember you as something more than just a rival, just a classmate he never really got to know, just a person he spent his two years hating upon, just a crush he didn’t get to confess to.

the catch— heeseung has already started picturing his future and you are not even sure of your present— and while he is looking at you for an answer, you’re lost inside your head, looking for words to articulate.

heeseung is someone you planned to stay away from for the rest of your university life. him stepping into your life already costs you a lot, namely: dropping in ranks and losing your infamous title. his actions cost you the time you could use to study, which is actually upon you because you can simply ignore him instead of spending hours on thinking about his hows, whens and whats. heeseung was supposed to be the academic rival slash classmate that he is, instead of allowing him to be something more, but beyond rivalry, feelings, etcetera. you knew the way you felt about him, even though you couldn’t be as certain as him, or even to claim you see him the same way he feels about you.

turns out, heeseung has always been sure of certain things in his life.

“heeseung, i’m—”

“not sure? busy? stressed? i know you have a lot of things going on right now. take your time, study for the finals, finish your papers, sort out your own issues and then come back to me. i’ll be waiting,” it’s like he’s not only good at studying but also at reading minds, because heeseung seems to have guessed a part of exactly what you’ve been thinking. call it timing, jay calls him to get back to practice just a few seconds later— a perfect excuse to leave. “looks like my break is over,”

you sit speechless, watching him walk away like an opportunity that just walked out of your hand. it feels like a slight defeat, like a test you failed when you could've scored better, if not a full score. it's funny because this wasn't a competition, you weren't rejected, more like you rejected him, but it still feels like he has the upper hand. it's funny and equally annoying because heeseung is supposed to be nothing more than just a nobody, somebody you aren't even supposed to spare two thoughts on, but here you are sitting with the guy with your feelings all over the place.

“heeseung,” you stand up, your voice making him turn to look at you, both of you ignoring the sight of his teammates standing motionless in their positions, too stunned at your voice reverberating in the almost empty court. “let’s do this: if you manage to stand first in the finals, i’ll date you,”

a lowkey confession leading to a mere competition. his lips morph into a smirk, the ones he'd pass you before tests, an open challenge offered directly to you. “and if i don’t?”

and you mirror the same smirk back at him, you weren't going to back off simply because it's about the person you possibly have a crush on. “i become just a closed chapter of your life,”

let the game begin.

III. LIAR AND THE LOVER

despite heeseung’s sudden confession, you’re doing quite well, taking it better than expected. you had your moment of confusion back when the words of proposal fell off his lips— anyone would. after all, it’s lee heeseung we’re talking about. you can only imagine the saddened faces of his fangirls once they hear about him confessing to you.

“jay told me you made a bet with heeseung?” hanbin’s question catches your attention as soon as he steps into the cafe, managing to turn a few heads towards you in the process.

“you know jay?”

he sits next to you, pulling out his laptop in a hurry. you can guess it’s because of his essay that’s due before six in the evening, one he could’ve written last night instead of getting wasted at his friend’s birthday gathering. “we share history, also, that’s not the answer to my question,”

“it’s not a bet, ‘bin,” your words aren’t half wrong. “just a silly game, y’know? i didn’t even expect him to agree,” frankly, even you don’t know why or how you came up with such a bizarre idea in broad daylight. usually, people get bouts of excitement or embarrassment while confessing or being confessed to, but in your case, you jumped over the fence and made a proposal that you have only seen in fiction.

“nah, no way you’re setting up your whole love life for failure and calling it a silly game,” the disappointment is evident in hanbin’s voice as his fingers danced over his keyboard, typing with a speed that could leave the trains behind. well, people tend to get like that when you have an assignment due and the deadline is just a few hours to go. you guess that he’s too busy to even listen to your reasoning, which is appreciated considering you have no reasoning as for why you did what you did.

“you made a bet with heeseung,” you turn your head around, making the boy next to you do the same in the process. it’s miyeon— you should’ve seen it coming, honestly. your actions have consequences, as always, and one of them is dealing with her non-stop interrogation as if you’re the prime suspect for some gruesome crime and every question answered wrong opens gates to capital punishment. sometimes, you wonder why she didn’t go with studying law instead.

“how do you know?”

“everyone knows, yn. it’s all they’ve been talking about,” she sighs, sitting opposite to you while taking a look at hanbin’s laptop. “even the football fanatics are talking about attending the game, god, hanbin we better hurry that day or we’re not getting a seat,” you should’ve seen it coming, honestly. miyeon might not be the most social person, but she definitely is the most updated. nothing escapes her, every tiny incident reaches her ears one way or another, and if not, then she just finds out about it using her sources, given you don’t know about her sources. it’s one of the reasons why you’re almost convinced that she runs a shady side business alongside her career in bioengineering.

you take a sharp breath, going through the bunch of papers arranged in your file. “it’s not that serious. he confessed to me and i said i’d date him if he manages to secure the first position in the finals as well,”

“you did that knowing he hasn’t been studying because of games while you’re studying like your life depends on it? there’s no way he’s going to be first, and everything aside, it was a wrong fucking move to play with his feelings,” play with his feelings— a pause, you don’t like how it sounds. you’re not playing with his feelings, that’s far from what you’re doing. it’s a game, a competition, new to your friends but you and heeseung have always been familiar with it. there’s an unspoken rule to test each other’s limits. the last time you and heeseung did something like this, it resulted with you writing ‘lee heeseung is smarter than ln yn,’ in bold on a sheet of paper and putting it on the notice board for the whole campus to see. in your eyes, it's history repeating itself yet again. sure, there is something else at stake, but the rules are the same, and you don’t know why your friends are acting like you’ve done something terribly unethical.

“no one’s playing with his feelings, miyeon, and i know for a fact he’s making time to study for finals,” you clarify your side, slight annoyance evident in your voice. “besides, it doesn’t matter. it’s not like this is serious, i only did this to buy time to figure out my feelings while the game gives me a reason to study and not get distracted. you know how i get when i lose focus,”

that could be the reasoning behind your actions, of course. even while sitting in a cafe with your friends and having a conversation that is about to make your blood boil, you’re thinking of heeseung in the back of your head. his words play over and over again like a broken record player, the image of him on court or studying pops up in your mind every now and then. obsession is a disease and you have it bad. it’s crazy to be thinking about someone so much without being absolutely floored for them.

“so you’ll date him despite the outcome?” hanbin drags you out of the well of your thoughts, a question that leaves miyeon flabbergasted.

“if i manage to figure out my feelings then of course,” a chuckle falls off your lips. “i’m telling you guys, it’s not that serious. i’m sure he knows it too,” and you’re really confident about this— it usually never ends on a good note.

“and if he doesn’t? what if it’s serious for him? yn, you never know how one thing might affect someone, and feelings are not something to gamble on. you should’ve told him you need some time to think instead of giving him a false hope or whatsoever,” it’s now that you start having second thoughts. the next two hours go by amidst silence, a few small talks blooming here and there, but dissolving just as quickly within the ticking clock of deadlines for assignments and exams.

it doesn’t take a scientist to know when miyeon is upset, for she isn’t the best at masking her emotions. through the sneaky glances at her that you’ve stolen over time, you can tell she’d rather spend the evening in silence than talk to you, which is a challenge with herself because she’s really talkative. it takes two to sing a duet, two to play and game, two people to make a relationship work. heeseung and you— the two of you are enough to make decisions for yourselves, decide what’s right and wrong and, something about miyeon questioning your choices doesn’t sit right with you.

too many cooks spoil the broth, it’s the principle of your life, the words you’ve been following to this date. it was your decision to have a few friends instead of a fifty— quality over quantity, as one might call it— and there has never been a moment when you regretted having a handful of people to call friends. instead of consulting too many people about your major in university, you simply went with what your parents and homeroom teacher suggested. life has been good so far. the more the better is something that isn’t applicable in your case. instead of telling everyone about your dilemma regarding heeseung, you decided to keep it to yourself, eventually opening up to heeseung when the time comes. you’re doing just fine on your own, it doesn’t make sense to you why a third person’s opinion is making you doubt your decision making abilities that you’ve been so proud of.

this is not a gamble, you tell yourself, it’s a fair play. you gave him options, he made the choice, it’s consensual. you didn’t force him into this game, he didn’t pressure you to respond, it’s a harmless competition that’s bound to have a positive outcome. you even spend a good fifteen minutes wondering if you should go back to heeseung and take it all back in case he finds it insensitive to put his feelings on the line. doing it in person seemed impossible so you resorted to texts, typing and deleting your message before giving up altogether. in your head, this was an okay decision. a sweet confession, a person with unsure feelings, a harmless competition.

you hope it doesn’t backfire ten times worse.

three days later, you find yourself on the way to basketball club rooms once again. you checked the court, it was empty, and your only option was to check the club slash locker rooms if you wanted to see heeseung. okay, first things first, you don’t miss him— maybe a little, but it’s because you miss hearing his weird ass answers in class even though they’re right. heeseung just has an unique approach to things, in other words he simply knows how to buy time and go in detail about things he’s an expert at to impress the professors. however, that doesn’t seem to be the case for him because he has approached you six times in the past three days, asking if you’re free to hangout.

you like to think he misses you or that his requests were because he wanted to make sure you don’t study and lose to him, either could be true. knowing heeseung, he’s capable of going both ways. whatever may be the reason, you turned him down all six times, and it’s not because you have something against him— of course, you don’t. that’s common knowledge by now— your reason for not hanging out with him is studies, as expected of you honestly. the bet aside, you had way too many chapters to learn before exams and all heeseung ever does is take up your headspace everytime you sit down with your books spread open. avoiding him in thoughts wasn’t possible so avoiding him in person was your last straw.

which leads to the present : you rushing to heeseung, again, not because you miss him but because you need his help, though one of the reasons could be that you feel bad for turning him down six times. you can hear muffled laughter from a distance as you approach the club rooms, a bang against one of the lockers, a loud profanity that follows afterwards. their humour is beyond your level of understanding.

“heese— oh, um—” you greet and turn away just as quickly when you realise that one of them is shirtless. it’s obviously heeseung, you can’t mistake his face for someone else. and you’re guessing he’s the last one to come out of shower because everyone else is dressed, maybe he’s someone who likes to take his time showering— you seriously need to stop thinking before your imagination goes bonkers. “sorry, can you come outside for a second when you’re ready?”

another round of laughter follows, more like teasing remarks because you can swear you heard a few of them refer to you as his girlfriend, and it gets you a little flustered, you won’t lie. you even hear one of them yell ‘ooh, get it, heeseung,’ as heeseung walks out, fixing his t-shirt, responding back with his middle finger up at whoever made the comment.

“hi,” his voice isn’t much louder than a whisper, eyes fluttering between you, the floor, and his teammates who pretend to not look when you peek inside. there’s a soft smile on his face— it’s cute, you think, and then rethink what you just thought. heeseung is, well, not cute— usually. he’s good-looking, handsome, hot, sexy, even, since you’re on the topic of finding adverbs that suit heeseung. cute is rarely one of them, you don’t think you’ve seen him as flustered as he is right now— rubbing his nape, a tint of pink on his cheeks, avoiding eye-contact— that’s far from the heeseung you’ve been seeing for past two semesters.

“hi, can you send me the pdf of the extra set of questions that prof sent last week? i think i accidentally deleted it while clearing up my storage,” you get straight to the point, trying not to waste much of your precious time. “i could’ve texted you but figured you’d be too busy with practice to check messages,” you remember what happened last time; he took six days to reply to your texts. you’re quite a patient person otherwise but in this case, you’re in dire need of questions to practise for tomorrow’s mock.

“ah, sure, give me a minute,” and he pulls out his phone, scrolling through an ocean of files and documents to look for the one you need. you do think he’s gorgeous though, it’s a well known fact that he’s stunning, but you think this look of heeseung surpasses the other ones quite easily— hairs wet after shower, partially covering his forehead, a white t-shirt that’s slightly wet near the shoulders because of the water dripping down— you wish he’d at least dry his hair before catching a cold. “actually, i would have replied to your texts if you had— oh, yes, there you go. do you want me to email it to you or…?”

“oh, just texts would be fine, thank you,”

“done,” a pause, you feel his eyes on you as you go through the pdf to take a brief look at the contents. “do you want to go for a walk? or are you getting back to studies?” at this point, you’re sure that question is a way to tease you about your obsession with studies. heeseung may think you’re overdoing it because you want to win, but it’s no more than the normal amount of hours you spend studying. he never paid you any attention to care about that.

“no, i’m done for today, actually,” and that’s a big fat lie considering you were planning to solve some questions and revise two chapters before leaving the campus, but it’s fine. you feel bad for rejecting him six times either way.

never in your life did you imagine that you’d be going on a walk with heeseung. it’s nothing serious, you just didn’t think there would be a day where you two would have normal people conversation while doing normal people activities instead of trying to disparage each other based on grades and academic performances. to think about it now, heeseung isn’t half bad, it was all in your head. it’s not like you had vile assumptions about him, you did find him annoying and way too prideful— anyone like him would be, actually, and heeseung is still quite humble about his achievements because if it was someone else, they sure would have made it everyone’s problem.

actually, heeseung is insufferable as well. you remember your first encounter with him, first and so far, the worst— in the laboratory. you and heeseung sat next to each other and when the professor asked him to briefly explain his experiment, you realised it’s oddly similar to yours. you had accused him of cheating, like any sane person would, which led to him getting two scores less than a perfect. he only lost one score because of you, actually, and that too because you were professor’s favourite and heeseung was new to the department. the other score, you don’t know where he missed, but that incident led to heeseung deleting your powerpoint thirty minutes before your presentation, which led you stealing his notes and selling it some junior through an undercover twitter account, which led to the professor asking you to help him with notes before exams, and everything ultimately led to the realisation that heeseung is actually quite decent if you behave with decency as well. the give and take is serious for him, because he gave you notes and so, you had to take his offer of going on a walk. even though it seemed like you had a choice, a part of you knew it was a mirage. you would’ve ended up on a walk with heeseung one way or another.

“i come here whenever i’m tired or just not feeling well,” he says and you wake up from your daydream of memories you shared with heeseung. the way he phrases his words makes it sound like he has brought you to one of his most secret locations, one that no one knows except taehyun, probably, considering they’re close friends, but in reality, it’s the playground you pass by every single day on your way from your apartment to university.

“oh, are you okay? are you nervous for tomorrow’s match?” you continue, deciding you shouldn’t ruin his favourite place for him. honestly, no one would’ve guessed that lee heeseung would come to a children’s park on bad days.

“actually, this walk was for you, you looked like you’d pass out if you spent another hour in front of books,” and you’re done, standing speechless with your eyes wide open at his words that he says with a victorious smile on his face. “you should start taking breaks, yn. it’s not a bad thing to go home earlier when you’re tired,”

he’s right, oh, you know he’s absolutely right about everything he just said, from passing out to going home. a part of him probably even feels glad to have you out on his little walk with him, you’re getting your well deserved rest, thanks to him. heeseung might even ask if he can walk you home considering you’re ‘done for today,’ which is very thoughtful of him— but what does this make you? a liar? miyeon was right, you’re gambling, even though it’s not that serious. so far, you’ve lied about being done with your studies and the bet you made with heeseung because at this point, it’s more like a prank, except it’s not funny and that it might end up with him getting upset with you because tomorrow is basketball tournament’s finals and you’re here wasting his time, all because you lied.

a liar and a lover, on a date at children’s park— match made in theatre club, you’d say.

“are you sure this is not your way to manipulate into not studying and losing to you, just so you can date me?” you try to play it cool, knowing very well that it can be one of his tricks or whatsoever. after all, it’s the same heeseung who made you trip in front of your class just three days after being transferred.

“i was being genuine but it doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” of course, it doesn’t. he gets to win, after all. “can i walk you home?” just as you had guessed.

“i would love to go home but my bag is still in the library,” you had considered taking it with you, actually, but dismissed the thought once you realised you had to come back to the library and continue with your studies. albeit, you’re not studying, that’s on you for lying into oblivion and giving into his requests.

once again, you two are back to walking, this time back to the university campus. it’s nice, having a walk with heeseung, it’s sweet, slow, comforting, like slow music flowing around and engulfing you in its arms. the unsaid words are weighing on your shoulders, you can feel the pressure, but it’s not awkward. above the busy hustle of the city and blaring horns, it’s a quiet world with heeseung, it’s nice, like a warm hug after a long day. you didn’t think you had it in yourself to spend a minute next to him without overthinking and possibly starting a banter. you didn’t think heeseung had it in him either, to make a walk feel so close to home.

“so, how are you coping knowing you’re going to lose once again?” and, it’s back again. everything is a hoax actually— his looks? a trap. his smile? a trap. it’s all a facade because once he opens his mouth, nothing but horseshit comes out of it.

“very well, in fact, because i know i’m the one getting that first spot this time,” call it overconfidence but you really do think you’ll get your title back this time. you’ve been studying well and hard enough, solving questions and going through every extra set of notes and exercises your professor sent. although, you would claim to beat heeseung had you been prepared or not because it’s fun messing with him.

“i’d rather have you show some mercy, in that case,” before you know it, you’re already standing in front of the library. “academic defeat and a heartbreak, it already sounds painful. i hope you go easy on me,” it’s sarcastic, of course, all these saccharine words of confessions made you forget how he is under the layers of smiles and winks that adorn his face. a session full of silence follows, the comforting tranquillity morphing into something tensed as he steps closer, your breath getting caught up in your throat as your mind dysfunctions— it’s the effect he has.

“heeseung,” you put a finger on his lips— the only thing between him and you, the only thing helping you stay sane and composed at the moment, because only you know the struggle of pulling yourself together while standing inches away from heeseung as he grabs your wrist and plants a soft kiss on your finger before removing it from his lips.

“why, that’s unfair. you get to see me anytime you want while i have to wait because you’re busy studying, you even get to see me shirtless, and i can’t even get a kiss?” and you hate the look in his eyes, you hate how close he is standing and how it makes your heart go crazy. this isn’t even the beginning and you hate how you feel like you’ve already lost, and you hate how confident he is with every breath he breathes against your lips. “just kidding, see you tomorrow,”

and you hate how this is where you realise that you’ve fallen deep, and you’ve fallen hard.

IV. PLANET TO A SUN

heeseung has been thinking about the walk for an hour and twenty-seven minutes— actually more, ever since the moment he got home last night, but that is how long he has been practising for, eyes on the ball but mind revolving around you like a planet to a sun. you had texted him about a rule this morning— no kissing before finals. actually no kissing before we start dating, lee— your exact words. they have been holding him back from thinking straight, even made him practise an apology while looking in the mirror if in case his actions offended you in any way. lost in thought, heeseung manages to get another shot in. that’s twenty-third in a row ever since he stepped on the court, which is unbelievable, even for him.

“is it just me or did heeseung’s performance improve overnight?” jake looks up at jay, fastening his shoelace, a chuckle escaping his lips that goes unnoticed.

the latter offers a hand to jake, helping him stand as they share a laugh before jay passes him the ball. “well, of course it will. he has to impress his girlfriend today at finals,”

“she’s not my girlfriend,” heeseung grunts almost as if hearing you and the word girlfriend in the same sentences cuts ten years from his lifespan. he knows it doesn’t, he’d kill to call you his’. the reason behind his edgy behaviour is your text and the weird rule you’ve inserted in an already weird bet— it’s not like he minds it, the bet, obviously. heeseung definitely minds not getting to kiss you for the next few weeks.

“yet,” jay clarifies, emphasising enough for the world to understand that his words are supposed to be in italics. “she will be if you score more than her in finals, which i don’t think is possible because unlike you, she has been studying all day everyday. i don’t know how she’s still alive,” and jay isn’t half bad student himself. juniors in business have his name residing on the tips of their tongues. he simply thinks you’re a freak for being in no clubs and not participating in anything that doesn’t involve studying.

“she’s the top student for a reason,” jake adds.

“i am the top student,” and hearing his friends call you the top students hurts heeseung’s ego a little bit. crushes aside, you’re his rival before his girlfriend, and you’re not even his girlfriend. you’re basically just a rival. “also, it’s not hard to study all day if you’re used to it,”

and jay scoffs in disbelief. “right, you would know something about it, lee i can’t go a day without playing basketball heeseung,”

“hey, everyone,” your voice reverberating in the court is what stops heeseung from responding to jay with a snarky remark. “just wanted to wish you all goodluck. i really hope you guys win the tournament or else, it’s going to be hard for heeseung to deal with two loses after i beat him in finals as well,”

heeseung rolls his eyes in disbelief, you hear taehyun exclaim that he has been team yn since the very first day, a claim that few others proceed to back up, especially sunghoon, with his own lore of how he prays everyday for you to win the bet with heeseung. you’re honoured to receive such support, to some extent. a part of you still wishes for the whole thing to be a secret restricted to just heeseung and you but again, it was your fault for placing bets in court, in front of the entirety of the basketball team to witness, even their coach.

“you’re a little too confident, don’t you think so?” he smirks, taking a few steps towards you with the ball supported between his arms and torso. “let me know where you’d like to go for our first date,” and it turns out heeseung is just as confident about winning the bet as you, perhaps even more. you are not surprised, being defending champions does that to people, or so you believe.

“mhm, let’s have you score a date first, lee,” you would have loved to talk more but decide to bid your goodbyes as soon as hanbin’s message pops up on your phone, the little scowl on heeseung’s face going unnoticed the moment he sees his name on your phone screen. heeseung would never in his wildest dream confess to being jealous— it doesn’t even make sense for him to be jealous of hanbin because he confessed to you, and you seem to like him back. his worries are pointless just like the useless art projects his art teacher used to assign in middle school.

your fingers dance on the keyboard of your phone as you reply to hanbin, the subtle taps synchronous with your steps with you rushing across the quadrangle, taking the nearest flight of stairs to the library. you wanted to spend the day at your apartment since classes are suspended for the rest of the day on account of the match. however, hanbin managed to convince you into coming to the library to help him with a few assignments here and there. you’re not opposed to studying on days-off, in fact you think it’s better since you get all twenty-four hours to yourself instead of investing any of it in classes. the match gave you an excuse to call in for a break, or an excuse to take your time choosing the outfits as if you’re the main character on such a big day.

the librarian gestures to you to slow down the moment you almost avoid slipping on the tiled floor, in the process of holding the door frame to stop yourself, an embarrassed apology makes its way from you to her as you spot hanbin in the further corner with his airpods plugged in. your first instinct is to scare him from behind but the thought leaves your mind as soon as you remember that you’re in a library, and getting kicked out on a day that has been treating you well so far doesn’t sound so smart.

so, you settle with approaching normal, instead of pulling random stunts, pulling out the chair opposite to him quietly to not make any sounds, mumbling a soft ‘hi’ as he takes out one of his airpods. “where’s miyeon?”

“sick, she’s skipping today’s match as well,” hanbin replies, eyes fixed on the notes he's copying from the laptop to loose sheets of paper, before looking up at you with another question on the tip of his tongue. “are you two still not talking?”

“we did, none of us brought up what happened that day, though,” you shrug as if it doesn't bother you anymore, as if you don't want it to bother you more than it already does.

miyeon and you have known each other since university, she was a senior in undergrad course who was forced by financial circumstances to skip one academic year, thus rejoining in third year along with you and hanbin. seeing her was less frequent while she was still a senior, although you're not sure if you've spent more than three days away from her ever since postgrad school started. a heavy tension masks all your conversations with her, over texts or in person, and even though you're trying to act like the small talks with her don't hurt you, a part of you is starting to miss the best friend you used to talk to all night, about wasted matters and sharing useless gossip.

silence fills in for the lack of words between you and hanbin and you allow it to do so, deciding not to disturb the decorum of the library anymore. you scroll through your phone mindlessly, there’s nothing to look at except people going crazy about the evening's match. you even manage to stumble upon a thread of arguments featuring students of your university and the one the team is going against. it’s all empty threats, seriously, ‘kys’ and ‘ur mom’s in my bed’ aren’t even insults at this point. they’re funny, sometimes, but you’ll never understand why or how they ended up being insults. ( honestly, you don’t see the potential )

“are you serious about heeseung?” a crack in the ice, hanbin's question catches you off guard, with a number of questions running back and forth in your mind before you settle with the one to respond with in return.

you blink in confusion. “i guess so, why?”

“nothing, it’s just i never expected it to be him, y’know, considering your history,” you think it's unavoidable, questions along these lines, they would've been asked sooner or later. truthfully, even you didn't expect yourself to fall for heeseung.

your history, what even is there to call history except blood and war? both you and heeseung have been up each other's neck from the moment your gazes collided. it sounds like a stupid beef between highschool students, almost embarrassing now that you both are nearing post graduation. with all the days that you’ve spent thinking about ways to get on his nerves, or worse— ruin his projects, it wasn’t just you who resorted to ruining each other’s hard work— no one would have known you and heeseung would ever end up on this note, with him chasing you and you pinning for him, all under the blankets of a silly bet.

“well, as i always say, hanbin, life is unpredictable,” there’s a smile dancing on your lips, a dazzling hint of factuality in your eyes. “besides, he’s a nice guy behind all the annoying things he does. i think he's pretty serious about me, or us, too,”

hanbin has noticed the way you smile at your phone. it doesn’t always happen, only when you’re talking with miyeon or a few friends from highschool, now heeseung ranks up on that list as well. he’d be lying if the uneasiness doesn’t bother him, it’s bound to surface when he remembers all the nights you spent complaining about heeseung. actually, the rant session included hanbin, you and miyeon, but she would rather go to sleep than listen to you complain like a child for hours on roll, leaving you and hanbin driving the conversation. he has lost count of the amount of times you’ve ended up crying in the process, or the amount of times he has hung up on you only to show up at your place late at night to make sure you’re doing okay, and the nights you two have spent watching movies and falling asleep on the couch, followed by the mornings gone by with miyeon being salty over the fact that none of you invited her to your impromptu nightover.

the thought of heeseung confessing to you still surprises hanbin, it’s one of the things he deemed as impossible since forever. and he can go, warn heeseung about hurting you, dropping all sorts of threats at the boy. hanbin can go on for hours about how he would make heeseung’s life a living hell if he ever broke your heart. he can prove the righteous friend that he is, but at the end of day, he would always be the third person between you and heeseung. hanbin can only assume so much about you two, not even sure if all of it is right. he can only wish so much for you to have eyes for someone else.

and so, all he does is shoot a smile at you. “i hope he is,”

the only time you step out of the library is exactly three hours and thirty three minutes later, to sprint towards the basketball knowing that you absolutely cannot afford losing seats in the first two rows. fortunately, or unfortunately enough, you’re not the only student going crazy about the game. you can swear at least a dozen came out of the library right after you, even though all of them may not attend the game.

you’re already running late— well, still twenty minutes early but that doesn’t give you much time to meet the team and secure the front row seats. and meeting the team is an excuse, let’s be honest. you want to meet heeseung, have a quick private talk, kiss him good luck, you don’t know; you wouldn’t. your head is in a mess, behind you hanbin is yelling for you to slow down as you run down the stairs. half of you is worrying about seats and the other half is wording her sentences out for you to say when you meet heeseung, and the team. you can wish them all the luck in the world, after all, it’s the university team and you would love to see them win. the whole craze about sports doesn’t feel real and worth the hype but things start coming full circle when you’re the one watching. slowly, as one would expect, but you are starting to understand why everyone goes bonkers during tournament season.

“damn, slow down,” hanbin huffs, grabbing your arm for you to slow down. “it’s not like they wouldn’t start without you,”

“that’s the problem. what if they start without me?” but your legs wouldn’t rest before arriving at the court. you know your words sound funny, painting you as if the result of today’s match depends on you. it feels crazy to be this excited about a mere basketball match, nonetheless you know it’s not the match you’re actually looking forward to. “besides, i’m more worried about seats,”

“i asked hao to save two for us. he’s friends with heeseung, i think he will do that much for his friend’s girlfriend or whatsoever,” you see him roll his eyes at his own words, proceeding to slide his hands into yours before continuing on your way to the venue, this time a little slower.

you have heard about hao from hanbin and miyeon a few times. he’s pursuing a masters in music, wants to teach violin professionally according to hanbin. miyeon has even attended one of his recitals last autumn, something from sibelius, if you remember correctly. he is popular, and you see the depths of his popularity as soon as you spot him on the bleachers, surrounded by people left and right, one of them trying to grab a seat next to him before he points at you and hanbin, and the crowd goes mild, ultimately dissolves as the players step in.

“i didn’t know heeseung had a girlfriend,” you don’t know what you were expecting, perhaps a few words of greetings, hi’s and hello’s since you two are meeting for the first time. anything, except that question.

“believe me, i didn’t either,” and why even is heeseung going around telling everyone that you’re his girlfriend?

the court breaks into cheers as soon as the game commences and yet, it feels a little quite. perhaps, it’s miyeon’s absence getting to you. had it been her next to you instead of hanbin and hao— who are busy amongst themselves by the way, talking about anything but the match— she would’ve been eating snacks non-stop, giving you a little talk on every player, like a resume. it’s take her fifteen minutes to give you summaries on players from each team, their achievements, girlfriends and probably even mothers, who knows. although, you haven’t attend many games with miyeon to pinpoint every good and bad thing about her impromptu presentation, her unofficial commentary helped you sit throughout the match. it feels incomplete without her, not just the game but days in general. it’s definitely her absence making your surroundings feel quieter.

so, long story short, you don’t have a clue of what’s happening. well, you do, a little. you know what a dunk and a three pointer is besides the names of players on your university team, but that basically sums up your knowledge about basketball. all sorts of voices are mingling in the air but you’re busy following the ball around the court with your gaze, occasionally cursing and clapping when the team misses a close basket or scores a comparatively difficult basket. the tension between the two teams keeps rising as the game continues. you notice sunghoon groan in disappointment as one of the players from the opposite team gets in a banked shot from the wings, scoring two points for the team. a part of the crowd goes quieter at jay’s failed attempt to save the score for his team, beomgyu patting on jay’s back while muttering something along the lines of ‘good job.’ involuntarily, your eyes travel to heeseung, whose expression stiffens at the sight of the scoreboard displaying a two-point lag.

a time out call follows as the players move back to their respective ends, and it physically hurts you to see the difference in atmosphere between the two teams, or the frowns on the faces of players on your university team. for a second, you even consider walking down to them as they gather around the coach, grabbing water bottles and towels while nodding at the coach’s words between heavy breaths. you catch jake looking in your direction for a brief second, a smile makes its way to your lips before he responds with one as well, proceeding to nudge heeseung’s arm and pointing in your direction. his actions are left with no response— it hurts a little, although you are aware that anything else falls after winning the match on his priority list— and they get back on the court as the game resumes.

“they need to catch up soon,” hanbin mutters, taking a look at the clock. and even if it’s just a two point difference, you’re starting to understand why it creates a huge gap. it’s almost like scores on a test. going from eighty-three to ninety then hundred is easier than going from ninety-eight to hundred. greater differences are easier to overcome; for you have so many rooms for improvisation and thus, so many chances at closing the gap. the closer you are to a perfect score, the narrower are the chances and it’s almost impossible to pin-point and work on every single weakness of yours within those two points. you’re pretty sure your words would hardly make sense to anyone else, but nonetheless you understand why everyone on the court looks more attentive, probably like meerkats on the lookout for preys and predators.

much to your disappointment, the play continues with the rivals dominating the court, giving low to zero chances for the opposition to get their hands on the balls. you even see a few of them trying to provoke heeseung, the latter trying his best to not react but you’re afraid he would start throwing punches if another one of the players passed by him with his middle finger up heeseung’s face. one of them, who you assume is the captain judging from the way he has been directing his team, goes in for a hook, immediately getting blocked by taehyun as the court bursts into loud cheers once again.

“that was a little too far for a hook,” hao comments, and you nod as if you understand his words and know exactly how a hook is supposed to be. you didn’t even know about a hook until now, and you’re still not sure what it is since all the shots look almost the same to you.

from that second onwards, it felt as if the control transferred to heeseung’s teams as they transition quickly from defence to offence, making quick passes and running the court, practically catching the opposite team off guard. jay passes the ball to jake, who takes a leap from half court, driving towards the unguarded basket. a quick layup using the backboard, as you hear hanbin name the shot, and basically everyone runs to jake for scoring two points for the team as the scoreboards displays a sour tie. it’s a seemingly easy match after that, especially when the players look like they’re back into the game. sunghoon passes the ball to heeseung who goes for another layup and fails, much to his despair, before going in for a dunk and scoring yet another basket for the team, leading it by two points. you see him passing a cocky smirk at the player from before as jake pats him in the back with heeseung almost stumbling in the process.

heeseung shoots you a wink before focusing on sunghoon’s words as they get back into position, and even amidst the butterflies you got by his recent actions, you don’t miss the way he stretches his fingers, ring-finger specifically, pointing something about the movements to jay before getting his focus back to the game; and you just hope it isn’t what you’re thinking it is.

it’s a slow game after that, no points scored, four fouls with two of them back to back, one by each team respectively. the frustration increases on the court, evident in each step taken by the players, groans and sighs fill the atmosphere and get louder than the cheers that have gone quieter once again. it isn’t until a few minutes later that all the players run to the front court as soon as they see an opportunity for a fast break with taehyun taking the lead, passing the ball to jay just a few seconds after, who passes it to heeseung— and call it the lack of efficiency or bad timing, heeseung bumps into one of the players from opposite team, an uneven balance, and falls directly on his right knee, as one of the opposite players throws the ball off-bounds to stop the play.

the medics take him to the benches, bringing ice packs and everything else before escorting him inside. you considered following him inside before hanbin tells you that the officials aren’t letting anyone meet him, probably until they receive updates of his situations. you bite the inside of your cheeks in nervousness, palms sweating as if you’re about to appear for an exam you weren’t informed about until five minutes ago, or maybe it’s even worse. the murmurs from the crowd or the group of girls behind you, to be more specific, do nothing but make you feel more anxious. zhang hao, being a sports medicine student, tries to give you an insight on heeseung’s injury, telling you that even if he fell directly on his knee and it could result in a patella fracture, or perhaps just dislocation— words that compel you to yell at him to shut up before he ensures that heeseung will be fine. hanbin does that for you, noticing your slightly panicked state, telling hao to talk about anything but anatomy of how badly a simple injury can affect a player, and when sunghoon and taehyun return to the officials with an update on heeseung and a pale face, you knew you had to run to your heeseung as if it’s the end of the world.

“heeseung,” you breathe out, stepping aside to let the nurse from the infirmary leave before you walk closer to him. the awkwardness between you and other players, namely jay, jake and beomgyu, besides the coach, rings all the bells to remind you that coming here was probably a bad idea. well, of course, you like heeseung and are worried for him, but the tension in the air makes you feel like you showed up uninvited. “are you okay?”

you ask nonetheless, voice close to a whisper, as you stand at a distance, looking at the bruise on his knee. the smell of antiseptic spray fills your lungs, nose scrunching at the way you could almost taste the diclofenac at the back of your mouth.

“not really,” he inhales sharply, exhaling a reply once everyone left, knowing they had a game to get back to. “look at you, are you worried for me?”

“i’m regretting coming here now,” liar. and then you let the silence carry the conversation with itself for the next few minutes. you don’t know what to say— what can you say? all you do is sit next to him, hands brushing against his as his winces at the slightest touch. heeseung opened his mouth to say something before dismissing his words with a heavy sigh the very next moment. you almost hold his hand— almost, thinking of holding it ever so carefully as if it’s glass with thousands of cracks, and then you’d kiss it ever so delicately, you did it— almost, but then, it’s just you getting upset over the fact that he played even after hurting his hand.

“so, they’re benching you,” you say in an attempt to strike a conversation, a little conflicted with your choice of words, wondering if he even wants to hear about something related to the match at the moment.

“of course,” he says it like a matter of fact, a fact whose impact doesn’t seem to touch him. “please tell me they have jeno substituting for me. i’ve barely been getting updates in the group chat,” the least he expected was for one of the substitute players to keep him updated about the game through texts, and heeseung planned to get back to the court until you showed up, taking a seat next to him on the benches in the locker room. you don’t understand why they didn’t take him to the infirmary, and decided to think it’s because locker rooms are closer and if there’s anything heeseung should not be doing right now, it’s moving his injured leg.

you shrug. “i don’t know, i’ll ask hanbin,”

“thanks,” and even though heeseung isn’t really fond of your friend for reasons that are widely known, at least amidst his friend group, he really hopes hanbin is of some use.

it’s quiet now. you can hear faint cheers buried in the layers of walls and rooms that stand between the court and the locker room, a few muffled footsteps filling up any spaces left in the air, here and there. you assume it’s his fans trying to check up on him, as annoying as it sounds to you for you’d rather have this moment with him all to yourself. you hear him sigh heavily once every few minutes, trying to ball his injured fingers up in a fist to allow the slightest of moments and ensure healthy circulation, a soft hiss leaving his lips at the sensation of striking pain shooting up his nerves. unlike heeseung, your attention shifts to his injured knee with a faint chill running down your spine as you look at his bruise, which now looks more bluish than it was when you had arrived, signifying the possibly alarming amount of blood that has now clotted in the tissues.

“you can cry,” nudge him with your shoulders and heeseung directs you to the most disgusted face in return. “what? it’s the finals and you’re injured so you won’t be able to play today. any normal person would sob their eyes out,”

“i’m not a kid, yn,” he nudges back, a chuckle slipping off his lips.

“trying to act all cool but you’re probably going to cry yourself to sleep for days, or even weeks,” he holds out his hand for you to hold it as you stand up, an action you give into without opposition, intertwining your fingers with his. there’s a smug smile on your face and he sees it as well, although only you know the way your heart is somersaulting at the way your hands fit his’ like pieces of a puzzle. “i know what you are, heeseung,”

he scoffs at your words, hands still entwined, a lovesick glow in his eyes— it’s your first time seeing this side of him, you’re glad to be one of the people to see it. silence has never felt so comfortable to you. the distant noise from court feels like it rushed on its way to you and heeseung, and stopped at the doors, as if you two are beyond its reach. you might never say it to him, but everything seemingly ceases to exist when you’re with him, and the world feels timeless. it’s embarrassing, cringe, and it’s making your heart beat faster with the way he looks at you. “you need to shut up,”

“make me?” a quick response, one that was supposed to be a joke, a joke which was supposed to be accompanied by laughter and brushed off as another baseless comment, but another second passes as you continue to look into his eyes, and you realise you’re actually considering it— leaning in towards him while giving his hand a light tug to pull him towards you the slightest, your other hand cupping his face as your gaze ghosts up his eyes and settles on his lips. when it comes to him, rationality is out of the window and your lips are on his’ planting the softest kiss at the corner of his mouth before pulling away like nothing ever happened.

a pause; you could hear the silence ringing in your years, eyes fixed over him as if you’re spilling all your secrets to him, waiting for him to take a hint. “what even happened to the ‘no kissing before finals’ rule?’”

and you realise you had actually forgotten about it, for better and never for the worse, because as you said and as he repeated, it’s all about timing. empty locker rooms, quiet hallways with not a soul around, your hand in his, his eyes on you— the timing couldn’t be better, and you know better than messing up and letting heeseung become just a closed chapter of your life. “yeah, i could care less about that,”

there are a lot of things you could care less about, like the cold metal that stings against your back as he pushes you against the lockers, or the fact that anyone could walk in, any minute; you don’t care, don’t know. his lips are on yours and his hands are on your waist, it feels euphoric the way his lips move in synchrony with yours, fitting like puzzle pieces. heeseung tugs you closer by your waist, a faint gasp escaping your mouth that dissolves immediately into your breaths mingling together. it’s intoxicating and is making you go insane, the way he manages to sweep you off your feet with the smallest of actions and simplest of words— from the very first day.

heeseung was right, and you as well, it’s all about timing. from the day you first looked at him in a seminar, to the day he switched to biotech— you plan on asking him why because so far, all your guesses seem implausible— down to the day he confessed, leading up to this moment with you pressing against the lockers and his lips against against yours. heeseung sighs softly, cupping your cheeks and tilting your head to deepen the kiss, and you could feel the heat of his breath against your lips when you pull away just when it was about to get better, avoiding his lips when he leans in to chase yours barely a millisecond later. your eyes shift down to his hand, one that has been injured during the game, and you proceed to hold it carefully, brushing your lips over the bruise lightly before adorning it with feathery kisses as his other hand travels down to your waist once again, pulling you closer. “you should go easy on yourself,”

you whisper the exact same words he had told you a day ago, traversing your eyes back towards him while your gazes have a conversation so foreign, as if it’s only for the silence to understand. and it’s quite literally just the two of you basking in silence as he rests his head against the crook of your neck, planting a few kisses here and there before pulling you even closer, as if you were going to disappear any second. “i think, i’m in love with you,”

and timing be damned— because heeseung confesses to you once again, and then he’s kissing you once again, slowly, sweetly, in love, and timing doesn’t even matter because every second feels right with him. with the same air of delighted indifference he comes to know well in the gleam of your touch and the curl of your lips, you simply kiss him back as if to say, hate to admit, but i’m in love with you too. and timing really be damned because you hear loud rounds of cheers as you feel his shoulders stiffen. a slight disconnection between you and heeseung makes you wonder if he’s thinking about the results of the game, which is inevitable, but this is about you and him, and nothing else. you hear the notifications from his phone go off, hinting that the match is probably over, and you pull him into another kiss, another round of selfishness guised as an outlet for him to forget about the game, another round of messy make outs, tasting the freedom of ignorance.

and then you don’t hear from heeseung again.

V. OBJECT OF ALL DESIRES

days without heeseung feel like they’re forty-eight hours long.

you think it’s a disease or some sort of withdrawal syndrome. this isn’t your first time without him, in fact, you used to do just fine without him in your life until you let him in. at this point, it isn’t even about not being able to see him— heeseung has been absent for almost seven days. you even asked jay about him to see if he has been in contact with any of his teammates but much to your disappointment, he disappeared off the face of earth like he never existed. taehyun has constantly been reminding you to not fret too much, knowing that heeseung gets a little dramatic after losing matches. you can take his word, obviously, a friend from highschool would know heeseung better than a girl who started talking to him normally barely weeks ago, although you couldn’t help but worry about him as seconds passed like water dripping down the tap, disturbing the silence.

you know how losses feel— like a part of you has been taken out and you’re left to bleed. it’s worse when it’s about something you’ve loved all your life. you’ve walked next to losses, hand in hand. when you know you’ve lost something while having it in the palms of your hands the whole time, the feeling eats you inside. you wonder if heeseung is feeling the same way you think he is, even if he didn’t show it a week ago when you had met him in the clubroom, the feeling starts to sink in when you’re alone amidst the ghosts of nobodies. even though he was smiling and acting like the little shit he is, you felt anger and regret in the way he kissed you. there was a sense of numbness dripping down his fingertips in the way they brushed against your cheeks, cupping your face. you could’ve been a sweet escape— it hurts to admit that the emotions weren’t possibly real, but you couldn’t blame him.

losing a match, to put it in your words, meant failing in a test; and losing because of an injury, it’s like skipping a test you prepared for, because of fever. except tests can be rescheduled for students who missed— a luxury heeseung, as a basketball player, cannot enjoy. even you couldn’t believe your eyes when the students on the forum started talking about the lost match, all sorts of comments going around, though none targeted at heeseung, fortunately. yet, your first instinct was to dial his number— out of reach, the first thing you hear on the other side of the line, and all you’ve been hearing for days now.

you had considered cutting ties with him, not literally, but as in stopping to chase him as if he’s the oxygen you inspire. you could’ve showed up at miyeon’s place with apologies, her favourite snacks and a brief explanation of why you did what you did, and everything that has happened as the consequences of your own actions. with weekends approaching, you could’ve planned a two-day trip with her and hanbin before the winter snow made it hard to commute— just anything to get your mind off heeseung, since apparently, you weren’t on his mind either. albeit, you end up doing nothing, no trips, no plans to see miyeon, it’s just you and your bruised heart with soju on the side. your mind is way too cluttered with thoughts about heeseung to focus on studying and at the same time, it’s way too empty to try doing anything else.

so, you simply venture down the hallways, drowning in all kinds of thoughts, good and bad. you can use the time to study but concentration has been far out of your reach ever since the match, or ever since he went underground, to be more specific. the impromptu make out session was probably his last straw— it makes sense. you kissed someone who had been walked out of a match because of an injury instead of consoling them. you let your feelings get the best of you, making everything about yourself yet again. you won’t be surprised if heeseung decides to ghost you for the rest of his life after that; or maybe, that’s not possible since you see a familiar figure sitting in the outdoor basketball court, spinning the ball with it’s axis on the ground in a directionless manner.

“heeseung?” you notice his back tense at the sound of you calling his name, head down low as if he’s responding with an exasperated sigh. “where the hell have you been? i’ve been trying to reach you— heck, even your friends haven’t heard a word from you in days,”

“not now, yn, leave me alone,” and an exasperated sigh is what it was.

“look, i know—”

“just, what part of leaving me alone do you not understand?” you try to speak but heeseung cuts you off just as efficiently as he does other things, with annoyance heavily evident in his words. had it not been heeseung, you would’ve left already, for you have more important things to tend to, and you’re certainly not interested in matters you’re not supposed to be included in, if only it wasn’t heeseung, and if only you weren’t crazily worried for him.

“oh, i understand it clearly, every part, actually, and i also understand that you’re upset and leaving you alone would certainly not be the best move considering the way you went MIA for a week,” and you understand his impulses about disappearing into thin air, wishing the ground eats him up or for the walls to cave in till he’s entombed in them, but a person as smart as him should know taking out helps better than thinking about wanting to vanish. “we can sit and have a talk if you stop being such an asshole about it. i’m down to listen to—”

“fine, what do you want to hear about?” he cuts you off in annoyances, the ball rolls down to a distance like your heart when you see the unfamiliar emotion in his eyes. “you were right. i went home and have been crying myself to sleep. i haven’t been eating well either. i skipped five out of nine mocks and barely passed the four i gave, let’s add that too. is that enough?”

you don’t like the way he puts it, as if it’s supposed to make you feel better. maybe about the bet, maybe, since he’s supposed to rank above you in finals to get around dating you, and maybe watching him lose is supposed to offer you some sort of relief— seriously, what you’re feeling right now is far from that. guilt, anger, shame, you’re not unfamiliar with those emotions. they eat you inside and it’s not because you’ve met with defeat, it’s because of falling off all the expectations people had, giving them another reason to point fingers and laugh. you could be really over-reacting, but if you didn’t have your parents telling you it’s going to be fine every time you didn’t do well on tests, you don’t know where you would’ve been right now. and you think you can play a part of the same for heeseung, if not all.

you sit next to him, nose scrunching at the sight of dust on the cement laid with cracks. that’s what you get with an outdoor court no longer in use. you can see little plantlets germinating from the soil, emerging through the cracks, the rusted ring catches your eye. heeseung huffs as you settle next to him, wondering exactly how long the court has been unused for, considering its lack of maintenance. “let’s date,”

and your words are not what you were planning to say or what should be said in this situation, but they still manage to extract a response from him. “don’t play with me,”

“i’m not, in fact, that is what i’ve been wanting to say to you for days. of course, this isn’t the best timing, but i don’t know what else to say,” you pause in what feels like embarrassment. too bad, his crush is not good at conversations. sometimes you end up nodding and blinking for five minutes straight before saying anything, after a person opens up to you with tears and blood. “and, i’m not going to tell you to stop acting like a child or whatever because the team lost such an important match and somewhere, you’re blaming yourself for it, which you shouldn’t, by the way. all i need to say is that you still have the next year to make up for what you’ve lost now,”

second chances come with higher expectations from people along with words that end up making one feel worse about their situation. you’ve already heard a few students talk about how heeseung should’ve been more ‘careful’— as if it was his choice to get injured and lose the match. you know it wasn’t going to be easy, especially with his injury that probably requires him out of the court for weeks, but you hope that amidst whatever he’s feeling, between self-loath and regret, heeseung manages to find himself once again.

“actually, i’m planning to drop out of the team next year and focus on studies. my parents were already against me playing basketball during postgrad, i’m finally starting to notice why,” basketball could’ve been his entire career if heeseung’s grandmother had not wished for him to go into the medical field. seeing the insides of a person makes him want to empty his bowel from the mouth so biotechnology was his next option. heeseung thought having two hands would give him the benefit of managing basketball and academics together, unlike how his parents had wished for, but his recent mock scores and lack of time devoted to studies is making him question his choices. “and what the hell were you on about dating, by the way?”

you’re half immersed in your own thoughts until heeseung directs the question at you— brows furrowed, confusion shadowing his face— you realise it’s your turn to do the talking. “oh, you know, dating. i think we should start dating already, it’s quite inevitable after that day in the clubroom,”

it is evitable, really, but you’re down bad— with all due respect.

you haven’t been okay ever since you realised that you like heeseung, and you’ve been trying to act normal about it, attempting to not lose your cool-hard-to-get-girl composure— miyeon’s words, and they make you cringe— while the thought of him is eating your brain slowly and gradually, making you go insane. if you were to narrate from where you opened and closed the door at, it would be a slippery slope, you don’t know how someone ends up falling for the person they despise. the yn from a month or two ago would be knowing, you can see her shrugging and getting back to her books, saying see saw it coming. ( it’s miyeon’s fault for making you even think about having a mind blowing chemistry with heeseung ) the you from two semesters ago, when he first transferred, would hate you and call you a traitor, might even write whore on a mirror while looking at it because you fold at the sight of hot, smart and sporty men who are perfect at everything, even at ruining someone’s life, like he’s ruining yours; and the yn from highschool, you see her squealing on the floor because oh, what a fan of enemies to lovers she was— heeseung wouldn’t even have been in the current picture if your highschool crush slash rival liked you back. the current you, well, she’s a goner, and in denial that she’s a goner. too much pride does something to a person, especially when you’re an over-scorer and an academic weapon. you’ve lost all your abilities of letting your guard down even once, refusing to give up and accept defeat, no matter how tortuous it is on the inside.

the current you is more like a victorian man looking at ankles for the very first time.

“and the bet? what happened to it?” he chuckles, of course, anyone would, considering the way you’ve lost after placing the bet with utmost confidence slash overconfidence. see, it never ends well, anything, with overconfidence, it doesn’t end well, never have and never will. and you, you don’t learn, sitting with the very well known fact that if you were given the chance, you would place the bet with him again.

“ah, i didn’t mean to do that, honestly. i was confused when you confessed, it was so sudden, i didn’t know how to respond. the bet was the best i could come up with,” miyeon was right, you could’ve used something along the lines of ‘i need some time,’ that day instead of pulling out a bet right out of your ass, and now you don’t know how to save face. at least the fact that heeseung confessed first makes you feel a little better about yourself. “c’mon, i know you love challenges. i was just trying to see if it gets you turned on or something,”

and heeseung scoffs in disbelief, eyeing you at your choice of words. “yeah, i feel very turned on knowing my crush dragged me into a bet that i’ve been working so hard for and she wasn’t even serious about it,”

“working hard? from what i saw, the only thing you worked hard for was basketball,” you raise your brows, a taunting intonation in your voice. a part of you regrets the choice of words, knowing that basketball is seemingly quite a sensitive topic to bring up at the moment. albeit, the slight fear evaporates off when he laughs and dismisses your words and nothings.

he leans a little closer, hands touching yours. “you never know what i’m up to at home,”

a pause; you look in his eyes and then at his lips, he mirrors your actions with a smirk on his face. you guess that there’s a second meaning to his words, not sure what, but the look in his eyes tells you something about it. “i think we should get back to when you were talking mental and i was talking you down,”

and you could grab his face and kiss him with no one around, on the unmaintained basketball court for the grey and cloudy skies to see. you could run your hands through his hairs and tell him how crazy he makes you while planting kisses down his neck. you can kiss him till both of your lungs are begging for oxygen, and that's when you'd tell him how he makes you feel— breathless and drowning, a little insane every time you see him flirting with someone that's not you. you can kiss him till the sun goes down and evening takes over, it doesn't matter if you're outside for the world to see. you would've kissed him if heeseung hadn't leaned back, looking at the ball lying stray at a distance.

“by the way, i’d love to date you,” he smiles at the infinite horizon before looking at you, as if waiting for a response already known.

“yeah, i figured that,” you try to play it cool as if you’re all knowing. it’s partially true, he did confess to you first. “let’s make another bet: no kissing before finals, and the one who ends up giving in first has to buy dinner,” you come up with yet another bet, your voice hinting the enthusiasm for no apparent reason.

heeseung squints at you, a little conflicted, quite unsure of your words. it sounds like a moment of deja vu, hopefully on a better note this time ‘round. “that’s not even valid, we made out not even a week ago,”

“let bygones be bygones, hee,” he likes the sound of the little nickname you've given him, unlike bygones, the word you use to refer to your very first kiss with him as if it's an unfortunate memory. “it’s decided then, no kissing before finals and the loser has to buy dinner, and i won’t be satisfied with anything less than a five star meal,”

you squint, index finger pointing at him, a challenging composure. another chuckle from him makes it’s way to you, lips curling into a faint smile. it takes you all the way back to the day you placed your first bet with him, with head empty and no logic, for the entirety of the basketball team to see, hear, and talk about it as if it’s supposed to be on the headlines of the national newspaper. your eyes spark up in anticipation, wondering if the two of you are down for another bet, one that doesn’t proceed towards failure, hopefully.

“the last time you did something like this, you ended up running back to me and asking me to date you,” he scoffs softly, side-eyeing you with a mocking gaze, quite ready to pull out the receipts if you ever deny his words. you hate how correct he is, all the time, actually, and you hate how you don’t have words to argue back.

lee heeseung, a nobody to you till he switched to your department, just some student who was there to pass time until he started ranking above you on tests and flipped your whole world upside down. you tried to not think about him and failed every time— still beats you why. you’ve never let distractions get the best of you, but heeseung, perhaps he’s more than just a distraction, or maybe he isn’t a distraction at all. he’s like a plant in your garden that you could care less about— should care less about, it’s growing without harming your plants, but it’s creeping against a wall with pretty flowers for show, and before you know it, it’s demanding for all your attention that you offer without second thoughts, unwillingly at first.

he’s the bane of your existence and object of all your desires, to put it simply and make it sound cliché. you’ve had your moments trying to run away from him, get him out of your head, annoy him to the point he’d prefer flying to the other side of the globe, or that could be you too, anywhere, far from him. but life, for the thousandth time, is unpredictable. when was the last time something worked out exactly how you had planned— can’t remember, obviously, just like the way you don’t remember when heeseung started occupying a corner of your brain, popping in and out at random times and disrupting your thought process. the more you tried to ignore him, the further he housed in your head, the deeper in your heart, closer, within your reach, as if for you to grab his hands and let him enter your side of the world.

and so, you kiss him again, pulling him towards you with the collars of his jacket. you feel him smile, a triumphant smile, as expected from someone who is used to winning. you don't think you can say you've lost, not at the way he cups your cheeks and tilts his head to deepen the kiss just moments before you pull away. “i always run back to you, don’t i?”

and you're a child infatuated with their favourite sport, a painter falling in love with strokes, a pianist dancing to the melody of rachmaninoff, a student addicted to getting a perfect score, a player addicted to winning. you trace back to things you like, you always run back to heeseung,

and you always would.

TEN MINUTES LATER :

heeseung plants a soft peck on your lips. “dinner’s on you,”

“fuck!”

2K notes · View notes

troublesh00terfaery · 2 years ago

Text

BELOW 18 PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT. THIS WORK IS NSFW! KEEP OUT!

[THIS WORK IS PURELY FICTION]

[One Shot] (or not, thinking of making a part two for this)

[Alhaitham x AFAB! Reader]

Words: 6.8k

Synopsis: ah well, experiments can quite lead to either expected results or something unexpected. don't you agree?

Tags: AFAB! Reader, teasing, breeding (we doing it raw for him), voyeurism, just kinky sex with this man what else? anal, creampie, a looooottt of sex, making a movie with him, well guess it's valentines for you this night with him :D

A/N: I'm gonna have to be honest with y'all, this smut made me realize I still have my unholiness within me and it's HOLY WEEK! anyway, starting to question if I should make a part 2 (seriously thinking this is okay as a one shot). Let me know in the comments. I'm also thinking of making a playlist while you guys read this, will probably open a yt account very soon as I have already have the list of songs! did not thoroughly proofread so my bad.

FOLLOWING, REBLOGGING, INTERACTIONS, AND FEEDBACKS ARE APPRECIATED

Being a student under the Amurta Darshan wasn't a joke, and the other Darshans can say as well with their respective schools. Before graduating under their respective house, one must comply a special research in order to finish. Of course, being an Amurta student, research isn’t new to you nor to them as well considering the demands of research in the biological and medical field is rising.

Recently, a type of fungi has emerged in the rainforests of Sumeru. It was a great variable for research, yes, however with little to no information with regards to the new species of fungi, one must analyze and observe the organism intricately. Some of the Amurta students felt overwhelmed of studying something unknown and new however the new biological specie sparked interest in you that gathering and studying it wasn't of a big deal considering the Sage has given the graduating students time with their research.

You took the interest of how this mushroom might affect an individual if consumed. Very cliche however if taken into a researcher's perspective, it isn't. Considering of the possible harm this specie might cause if ingested. Nah, it didn't scare you. You just happen to be that curious considering of the hearsays you often hear among the localities. Peculiar, most of them saying.

It would appear that it does somehow look like a sea ganoderma that is abundant in Inazuma that bloomed near the beaches and shores however these fungi have bloomed in damped areas in the deep forests of Sumeru. The color of this fungi might be different from the usual ganoderma as it was the color of light purple. It did somehow secrete a transparent and mucilaginous fluid with a sweet odor.

Quite a strange description that even at times you smile whilst gathering its viscous fluid for examination.

"Are you even sure about this one? You're genuinely scaring me." Kaveh, who happens to be your closest friend and a student from Akademiya under the Darshan of Kshahrewar, was one of the test subjects for your research. He is a year ahead of you, making him your senior. "Am I your lab rat again?"

"Not just you, I'm also going to drink it myself to test it out and see if there are any notable changes or changes in an individual if one drinks this concoction."

You watched your boiling flask create boiling bubbles and watched it disperse as you used a stirring rod. "Don't use the word 'lab rat' that just sounds so unethical."

Kaveh's scared and nervous demeanor was obvious that he took a deep breath before he went off ranting.

"What am I supposed to call myself? What am I supposed to do if this weird witchy-like potion of yours kill me? Kill you? KILL US?! goodness research is inevitable among us students but this is jeopardizing us, my dear Y/N!"

"It won't!" You snickered and tried to comfort him by keeping a straight face. "Besides I did try to use it as an alternative fertilizer and spray it on my Sumeru roses."

You pinpointed a pot just below your study table. "It quite bloomed quickly and as you see. It did sprout new buds in almost 2 weeks only so I can write in my observations that it can be a great fertilizer if used."

"It's a plant, Archons sake! It looks lewd too!"

"It is, I will not lie!"

He drew his nose closer to the fungi. "Strange but it does smell good, sweet and flowery. For a fungus, it is weird."

You spent your afternoon trying to convince Kaveh to say yes to your research. In the end he eventually said yes to you as you have persuaded him that it was safe. Both of you agreed to drink it after two days and another follow up take in of the concoction to see if there are any differences.

Two days have passed and it was the time to finally test out the mixture you have prepared. Along with you was a small briefcase that was filled with your apparatuses needed. Of course, like they say: it's better to be prepared. At exactly 7:00 in the evening, as agreed by you and your friend, you must meet him at his house.

Or his friend's house rather.

Of course, you were aware that he was indeed a freeloader inside nonother than Alhaitham's house but he assured you that during that time the Akademiya's scribe isn't present during those times considering that he's been busy the past few days.

To you, there's nothing special about Alhaitham. Rather than being the scribe and an introverted Haravatat student.

Well, he's quite good looking and somewhat that annoyed you. He somehow did radiate as someone with god complex and if ever the end of world happens, he's gotta be one of those people who will AND WILL survive.

You have arrived 10 minutes early of the said time but it seems that Kaveh is late for 10 minutes. Until it became 20 and 30 minutes late. At first it was bearable however you couldn't waste time anymore. You wanted to finish your research just like any other students.

"I can't believe he's pissing me off. He told me he'll be early." You stood up and knocked three times.

"Kaveh? It's me. It's already 7:30 in the evening and you're not opening the door. Open it!" The annoyance dripping from your tone like acid.

You knocked again. No response.

Another four more knocks and calling his name. No response.

Fuck, Kaveh what's the matter with you? Come out.

Another final succession of knocks and still no response.

You gave up attempting to knock and call his name. It was either: he was just hiding from you because it did genuinely scare him or he wasn't really there. But he couldn't lie to you, you both agreed to testing out the mixture.

"Alright, whatever. Loser."

Heaving a sigh, you stepped back from the door and murmured a few words before accepted defeat and just before you walk away, you happen to stumble something strong and tall from behind and you could immediately tell that it wasn't Kaveh. Your head against a chest.

You slowly lifted your head and greeted the face of nonother than Akademiya's scribe.

"If you knock like that, you'll surely destroy my door." He lowered his gaze to match yours with a rested expression.

Oh, it is indeed Alhaitham. It is indeed him. Him. Oh.

Oh...

Neither of you moved from that position for a while, both of you matching the gazes before you realized it was awkward and slowly lowered your head and made way for him and pretended to idle yourself by fixing your skirt. To be fair, he is really THAT attractive.

He ain't just gifted with intelligence but he knows he is THAT good looking and attractive.

"And what does this Amurta student doing in front of my house at this hour?" His arms slowly sliding to his pocket to get his keys. Tone monotone before skimming to the key for his door.

"I'm here for Kaveh." You took a grip on the handle of your case.

He opened the door and only answered 'hm.' Uninterested. He shifted his gaze at you leaned his toned body against the frame of the door.

"Did he somehow invite you here?"

You nodded and met his gaze before breaking it off.

"We both agreed to meet here."

"I assume it's for your research. Well, come inside. Don't want Kaveh to nag at me for not entertaining his visitor."

You came inside shortly following him. Upon entering, you couldn't help but to scan the house. There's nothing special to mention aside the paper works piled up in a table and scraps of paper under a desk and certain apparatuses that is used for measuring you assumed. It seemed to be Kaveh's side of table that it has be him, it was chaotic.

Closing the door, you immediately sat and primed yourself up in an not so familiar place. Alhaitham sat at the sofa just in front of you and observed you from head to toe before he inhaled. His back relaxed against the back rest of the sofa.

"So... out of all the possible participants you could've chose, you really picked him?"

"I don't see a problem a problem with him being my participant."

"And why is that?"

"It's my research, I get to choose who I want to be my participants."

He wasn't so sure if you were insulted by his questions but it did amuse him by the way you answered him directly with a soft tone.

"Sadly, he's not here."

"Seems so."

Both of your eyes now met and neither of you wanted to break it off. Seems like you already knew how bad your chemistry will be with him by just this interaction. Silence surrounded the room, not a single flinch from neither of you but the eye contact creating this tension between you and the scribe was barely tolerable that you wanted to break free from the contact.

But he didn't show any hesitancy to break off the connection of your gazes, in fact he would want admit he would see this as competition. It wasn't evident in his face but the way he cocked his head slightly to one side just showed how much of cunning asshole he is but it was attractive in a way, of course you couldn't deny it. Being cunning just adds to the list of attributes that just makes him attractive.

Uh well, yeah…

In return, you gave him a soft doe-look and a small smile. The scribe only gave you a small smile in return. Come to think of it, if waiting for Kaveh to return would be a waste of time for you and precious research then why not make him your first research?

"Say, considering that my friend is not here, how about you take his place instead?"

He raised his brow and crossed his arms. "Friend? and here I was thinking that you were dating. But he did mention a close friend." he scoffed.

"Hmm, people often think we’re dating but we’re not." you scoffed and let out a single giggle. “Kaveh’s good looking himself.”

"You're saying you're not good looking then?"

You gazed at him, smile wearing off before you pressed your lips together. "I didn't say anything."

You pressed your legs together as your hands clenched the hem line of your skirt. You lowered your gaze and tried to divert the topic. Your eyes went to look at your small briefcase.

With you little movements, he finds himself smiling at just how fragile yet collected at the same time you looked like. How you pressed those lips of yours that has the tiniest shine probably from your lip balm and the little tint of color pressed unto your plump lips.

'Cherry red? No probably that Tangerine wine... impossible. Peony red? Champagne pink? Too strong. Dewy peach? What else did I see from the market that sold those kinds of...balms'

"Ah, as I proposed a while ago, you can take Kaveh's spot." You paused.

He gave you a look to continue by giving you a small nod.

"It's about these fungi that out of nowhere grew at the rainforests of Sumeru. It was estimated to have grown two to four months ago where the weather condition was harsh yet perfect for cultivating these fungi to grow..." you got up to get your briefcase and showed him a glass box where the specimen of the fungi was stored.

You showed him the glass box before you slowly and carefully dragged one of the chairs to give the box a better and closer view to him and sat properly with an excited look. The expression you made just made him smile in the back of his head.

Just the way your breasts that hugged your white turtleneck sweater coordinated with every movement you made and how your thighs look plush as you sat at such...rather unconscious provocative manner. There's so much about you that keeps him wondering about you. What would such a girl, an Amurta student like you, keep this Scribe fixated at you. You were just, innocently charming that he couldn’t resist the thought of him doing--

‘What am I thinking, this is wrong’

"As you can see, it does look like a-"

"Sea Ganoderma, local from Inazuma. But the color is different, yes." He pulled the chair you were sitting just enough to be close to him, not breaking his gaze from you. Attentive.

"I can't see if you move your hands much. Stay still."

Now again, both of your gazes have started its connection again only this time it was closer. The gazing and whatever the fuck it was with your eyes and his eyes, it gave pause and silenced the whole room. The sudden closeness has made you tense a bit that you were taken a back.

"Okay?" He looked at your surprised, lost, and doe eyed look that made you look innocent.

You responded with a small nod and a sheepish tone. “’Kay,” a tint blush forming in your cheeks.

He didn’t move to his usual position. He stayed like that exactly and gave you a signal to continue with your details by him giving you a small nod. At first, you were hesitant considering the space he ate up just to get a closer look to you and the box you had. But you didn’t have to waste time so you went on with your detailing.

You described to him its delicious scent despite having a peculiar anatomy. You showed him your paper works as to the recorded data of how it also affected the Sumeru roses you had in your room.

“You conduct laboratory observations in your room?”

“What? the biology laboratory is already packed with students with their specimens. It might affect mine as well.”

“And you think that your room couldn’t affect the variables then? Hm?”

Furrowing your brows, you scoffed. He was indeed correct. The location was indeed part of the variables to be considered that might affect the status of your fungus. That was one of matters that you missed out and it somehow annoyed as out of the person that could’ve corrected you, it would be him.

“Seems like you missed some points to be noted for your research then, Miss Y/N?”

You stood up, randomly gave him the box, and took your briefcase to get to concoction you prepared. You didn’t see any need of explaining the details to him, seems like he already knows your stuff. You showed two him two test tubes with the same length of the concoction. Alhaitham observed you.

Your back facing him as you tend your mixture into another separate glasses. His right-hand skimming through the edges of the box, fingers delicately feeling the edges and surface of the box and not taking his eyes off you. There again, his curiosity taking over with just the sight of you that it somehow intrigued and annoyed him. He slowly opened the box and there he smelled the pungent smell of something gourmand and flowery and yet something of earthy at the same time.

He couldn’t understand what smell it was but somehow it was lulling him.

The silence slowly rang your ears and the pressure between the time and how quiet the room is made you feel heavy. You felt yourself jittery that after a while of his presence and darting eyes from behind you. The night was windy and you can only hear the slow chimes of the door charm and the gentle tings and tacks of the glass. A few moments have passed, you can only hear him grunt and clearing his throat.

“Is something the matter?” You looked at him only to find him resting his left hand to the hand rest of the sofa, palms covering his face whilst his right hand toying the box and seems to play with the lid of the box.

“How’s the smell?” You took each test tubes and went over to him, sitting at the same seat you were just in front of him and took a deep breath. “Now all you have to do it drink this concoction with me if there are any notable changed it will happen to a person who ingested it. Don’t worry, like I said you’ll be drinking—”

“Are you serious? This already makes my head ache, the smell. You think I’ll drink that?”

“You’re drinking it with me. I only need the data.”

He looked at you, his brow raising. “What makes you think I’m going to drink that.”

You looked away, not knowing what are the possibilities too. If you ever come up with using the data of plants, he’ll find an argument just to cease your experiment. You held unto your test tubes and faced him. Doe eyes showing desperation and pleading.

“Please, Alhaitham. I’ll do whatever you want. I just need the data…” You didn’t care at this point, you’re never the type to agree to doing whatever the person wants but if it’s Alhaitham, well there would be no problem at all. “Please?”

Looking at your little parade of innocence and desperation, he couldn’t help but to hate himself by letting his inner thoughts run through his system. The way you held the test tubes on each hand of yours enthusiastically a while ago and how you lowered it down to rest to your thigh. How your thumb caressed the glass surface, how your lips pressed before biting your lower lips in frustration causing it to darken its color. Your eyes asking for an answer, and voice soft. You looking so irresistibly delicious to pounce at.

Just you, being this little sweet lamb that he couldn’t just resist.

“Please, Alhaitham. Please?”

Fuck. Fuck is happening to me?

“Fuck this.” He cursed under his raspy breath, clearing his throat yet his brows furrowed. Before he adjusts himself in his seat by leaning back and bucking his hips up. “Look, at least if there is any possibility that we will die, at least I die with you and your silly little experiments for your silly little research. Got it, you silly girl?"

The enthusiasm back once again in your face. You smiled at him and nodded a couple of times. You instructed him for a few reminders to take note. The two lines that were labeled in each glass signified the amount of mixture was to be ingested.

In a count of 3 you both drank together. The smell of the concoction was lessened however its scent note was still there. Both of you didn’t move, your eyes focusing on the paper and your pen. Alhaitham on the other hand is busy with minding his books.

A few moments have passed a slow tingling heat started to surge in your body. The heat surging inside your body was slow yet everywhere. At first you thought it was just your sweater so did not pay no mind however as time passed, you realized that it starting to get warm and hot. It was making your head dizzy and sweat. You tried to cool yourself by fanning with your hands.

It was a cold evening, a reason why you wore your turtleneck to warm you up yet it seems that it's getting a little hotter. You started to fan yourself with your palms. From fanning yourself to using the loose cloth of your polo neck to fan your chest loosen up. Everything happening right now wasn't anything you expected to be.

Ways... ways... ways... ways to distract myself... what is this? I need to distract myself? Is it too hot here?

You suddenly remembered the paper you were supposed to fill with the initial observation of the first dose of the concoction. Upon looking at it, you felt lightheaded and almost felt like you were slowly floating.

While you were drafting random bullshit in your paper, Alhaitham on the other end felt the same sensation in your body. He was either thinking it was the effect of the pungent scent of the fungus or the mixture you just gave him. His head started to spin and a surge of heat in his body roamed his system. A storm inside him that just felt that it would never end nor calm down. He needed to compose himself, a simple concoction cannot just simply make him feel bizarre.

Alhaitham wanting to stop the chaos suddenly stood up to find his headphones. At times, he would resort to just playing music in his headphones to block noise or just randomly wear it to make it seem that he's does not want to interact.

He just wanted to have and wear it yet his body betrayed him the moment he stood up. His eyes slowly blurring and his legs felt no life made him weak. Just right after passing by after you, he fumbled. Tripping just the moment he passed at the table, falling. A few of your apparatuses falling included some of the unloaded test-tubes and a single tube with viscous and thick liquid inside spilled at his chest, left arm, and the crotch part of his pants.

"Archons…” he whispered, feeling a pang of defeat as he sat at the floor and tried to wipe the excess mixture.

The commotion startled you as you started to fill up the details of the paper. You quickly took action and assisted the young man. Taking a handkerchief from your pocket of your skirt you started to wipe the mess on his chest.

He was wearing his usual dark off-coat that hugged his chest. You couldn't help to get distracted at the little intricate gem that was in his sternum.

Slowly... slowly... you were being lulled again. Like an effective hypnosis it seemed like you were in a haze that you couldn't understand. You couldn't even control your body. The heat was all over your body.

The way you started to simply just mess up instead of cleaning it was a sign that the aphrodisiac took over your senses. You were so distracted and helpless. Everything about this man in front of you was like a need and a want of your body and soul.

Alhaitham felt the same.

The tension, the spark, the need, the hunger to just own you was evident yet he didn't want to be consumed by it. There was this resistance of him and the more he forced to neglect the feeling, the stronger the urge wave his body.

He felt weak and he didn't like that. It was too much yet you kept fueling the fire that he was suppressing. At this very moment, he wanted to breed and own you. A mixture of aggression and lust now surging.

"Haitham..." you dragged a fingertip to his intricate gem that was at his sternum and pressed your thighs as you dragged, fingertips feeling the shape of his gem. It made him hitch his breath, an irregular breath and a painful erection as he got indulged by your little play.

“Get up.”

No response.

“Y/N…”

“I should’ve known, this was an aphrodisiac. A strong one—Fuck, Y/N.” He threw his head as he saw you press your pretty lips against his gem, pecking it before looking at him with doe-fuck-me-till-i-break eyes.

“Haitham…”

“Get up, Y/N…” his voice croaked “Or else we’re going to have to fuck the whole night.” He cupped your cheek, feeling the heat of your skin.

“Haitham, too hot…” you lowered your jacket until it reached your elbow, exposing the tight turtleneck top you wore that happily hugged your mounds and figure. Innocently provoking him. "...hot" you murmured and held his hand that cupped your cheek. Now the back of his hand slimy with the mixture and looking back at him with lust-heart eyes.

"Yeah, you and I won't be going to class tomorrow."

And just like that?

Just like that. It was enough to push him to the edge.

Sloppy kisses, hitched and panting breathes, desperate rutting, and slapping of skins reverberated his whole room. There was only one thing on both of your minds: to fuck.

"H-Haitham~!"

To fuck until you couldn't do it anymore. Breed and fill you up to the brim until his seed spilled out your tired plush pussy.

Your moans were getting louder and louder as you felt another succession of orgasm reaching to you. A hollow feeling started to build up inside you and his cockhead adding up to the climatic feeling as he abused your soft spongy cervix, desperately wanting to push it further and deeper.

Alhaitham unconsciously made people feel small without doing nothing. It was probably his reputation and how cunning he is, he had his ways just to get what he wants.And now definitely, he made you feel small. His length overwhelming you and your insides. The way it made you feel stuffed and full inside and how he's just towering above you. Hands clasped on your ass and carried your weight was he pressed you against the wall and rutted violently.

He kept his mouth busy by marking your chest and neck and desperately sucked on your peaks. He felt the need to breed you and fill you up with his cum.

The constant hitting of your cervix and the rough ministration made you squirm and groan. Your walls pressuring and pressing tightly against his cock signaled him that you were close. Your legs now wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. He can feel how wet your spongy walls.

"Gonna cum... Ah~! Haitham! Gonna cum-"

"Yeah? Gonna cum again?" He chuckled. "Fuck-- you're getting too loud- Mhn~!" He pressed against yours as he maintained his pace, not changing it. He felt that he was getting near too and that excited him.

Your walls spasmed and legs trembled as you reached your climax, Alhaitham chucked as he changed his pace before he pulled out making you squirt from the intense punishing of your cunt.

"Haitham—" you hitched your breath, heart beating fast as you squirted again. Alhaitham looked down as he watched you make a mess and that just made him hard enough and drive him to make your squirt again. He violently pushed his cock again inside and started to rut and roughly pulling it out making you buck your hips up and squirt again.

"Haitham please~ oh~!"

a slower one so you could have your moment before he continued his pursuit to seek his high. He changed his pace again, a faster one. A rough and fast one.

His tip now teasing your spot that made you tremble again. His cock made your pussy sing for a couple of times now. He had been breeding your pussy since and the both of you couldn't have enough, a never-ending high and feeling of wanting to release.

"Fuck, gonna fill you up-" he panted, rested his forehead against yours, making him watch the little show: your pussy eating him whole and forming a little bump as he entered. "Your pussy's the best!"

With one final thrust, he came inside you. Rutting and violently spasming as he filled your abused hole the 4th time tonight.

Time:10:30 PM

Recorded data (written): none

Recorded through Kamera data: none, battery level at 90 percent.

It was the fifth time tonight. Now he's fucking you from behind, your chest and the side of your face pressed against the wall as well as both of your palms. Alhaitham drilling his thick and veiny cock inside your spongy and abused walls. Your moans are getting louder again and he was fascinated the way you just came over and over because of his cock. You kept soaking and drenching his dick with your pussy juice. It started to make sloppy noises whenever he pushed in and out. You started to cream again, forming a ring on the base of his cock.

"You feel so good, Alhaitham~!" You moaned, feeling his tight grip against your beautiful hips and created crescent marks as he slammed his cock back and forth.

"Fuuuck this pussy is mine-- fuck fuck fuck--" he groaned, he took his left arm and wrapped his left palm to your neck and slowly pulled it making you arch your back and head hitting his shoulder. He slowly guided his palm that wrapped your neck to your jaw and continuously rutted. Now you can clearly hear his groans and panting.

He hammered his cockhead again and felt your spongy and plush cervix making him push his cock deeper as he came inside you again. He covered your cervix with his thick cum.

Time: 12:50 AM

Recorded data (written): none

Recorded data through kamera: Data recorded, battery level at 75 percent

"Didn't realize you had your kamera with you." He chuckled turning the camera on as he gazed at your body. Tired and a mess, cum dripping out from both of your pussy and ass hole. Saying that he liked it was an understatement, he loved it and seeing the mess you both made him harder. He realized that the slimy juice that it was a lubricant and the purpose of this fungi was an overall aphrodisiac with versatility.

"Haitham..." You called out his name, hoarse and small. You slowly opened your legs and revealed your aching and puffed cunt wanting for more. Alhaitham on the other hand set the kamera up just enough to get an angle of you and him in the frame together.

"Just for the data." He sighed, hoovering on top of you and pressing his lips against yours. Hands roaming around your waist before he positioned his cock again and decided teasing you. His cockhead teasing your puffy and abused entrance before he guided his length to your clit and gently pressed his head.

The pressure made you squirm and groan from his ministration. A few taps of his cockhead to your clit and a few pumping of his dick before he slowly reached out for your nape and raised it. Your weak body being supported by your wobbly elbows and your forehead against his.

"Put it in…" you hissed at him and brows furrowing.

"Not so polite are we?" Slowly inserted half his length making the excitement in your stomach rise up again and his hips buckle. "Say it, princess."

"Please put it in, please please please~" you plead with look of longing.

With a smirk, Alhaitham slowly pushed his cock inside you and guided his hand that held your nape and lowered it for you to watch him get inside you. He pushed until his head was greeted by your cervix but oh, he didn't stop there.

He slowly pushed further making you moan from the pressure of wanting to push further.

"Haitham--too deep~! Ahh~!"

Alhaitham couldn't resist to smirk while he looked at your eyes roll back and legs quivering. You just got this man hooked with your pussy and beauty.

"Cumming already?" he teased as he started to move his hips in a piston like pace.

Time: 3:33 AM

Recorded data(written): none

Recorded data through Kamera: Data recorded, battery level at 11%

"Too tired, Haitham…" you whined.

You took a pause for a moment as you felt your legs wobble and strain a pain from grinding him. Him buried deep in your ass wasn't on the menu but who would've thought that you both

would enjoy it. You rested your palms on both of his thighs and rested your back against his hard chest and took another deep breath as you started to bounce on his dick again. It was slow yet deep, something that made Alhaitham groan and hiss.

"I know, baby…" he chuckled as he saw you in action again. "…just can't get enough of you."

Talk about having three of your holes stretched out in a single night. You couldn't count how many times have he came inside your pussy and mouth and now he just discovered about the pleasure of having his cock buried deep inside your ass.

"So goood~ So deep~!" you whined, biting your lower lip and continued to bounce on his dick. It was sloppy and it was thanks to his cum and the lube combined together and oh, he loved to see the his cum and the lube together forming strings in your ass cheeks and asshole and making sloppy and erotic sounds each time you bounced on it.

He noticed your bouncing started to slow down until you stopped again, making him chuckle. He kissed your shoulder blade and whispered "Sofa."

Alhaitham helped you stand up and walked towards the sofa where you faced the arm of the sofa and rested your arms on it.

"Ass up," Alhaitham took his cock and slowly pushed it inside your ass again making you moan from stretching your whole with his size. "So b-big~" You rolled your eyes as he let a final push to burry it deep.

A sting left your right ass cheek when he slapped it and groping both cheeks, slowly making a move again. It started slow until it was fast and deep. Alhaitham took both of your arms and held it from behind, penetrating deeper and making you bend over forward.

Balls slapping against your clit making you moan louder. You were so lulled by his dick you didn't even realize that you have classes today. Same goes to Alhaitham and he could feel his climax reaching as well and with one final push deep, he came inside you.

Time: 6:30 AM

Recorded data(written): none

Recorded data through Kamera: none, kamera has shut down. battery at 0%.

"Thank the fucking Archons I have bought my keys-" Kaveh scanned his pocket to check if his keys were really in his pocket which of course is there. He hurriedly scanned the keys.

"Key key key- Archons where the fuck is that key!"

The little commotion just outside Alhaithams abode made the scribe awake. He was a light sleeper, it was enough to awake him since he knew this voice and tone so well it annoyed him early in the morning. Alhaitham was about to rise when he heard your small groans making him look at his chest.

The little commotion just outside Alhaitham's abode made the scribe awake. He was a light sleeper, it was enough to awake him since he knew this voice and tone so well it annoyed him early in the morning. Alhaitham was about to rise when he heard your small groans making him look at his chest.

There you were sleeping. Your once peaceful face grunted when Kaveh shouted another curse and that hit Alhaitham.'

'We fucked.' he said into himself. His brain was somewhat still foggy from last night and he could feel his worn out muscles. He heaved a sigh as to trying to figure what to do with you still sleeping while his roommate is already making his head hurt from his cursing and loud voice. Fragments of what happened last night made him groan especially when he saw the Kamera faced at them. Did it bother him? Well, he simply ignored it. He knew it was down but he knew it recorded some. Probably gonna check it out later.

"We're late for class," he whispered and gently stood up when you were awoken from his movements and the noise Kaveh made. Alhaitham didn't move another muscle and hoped you would just sleep but turns out you were trying to keep yourself awake by rubbing your eyes when you faced him.

"Alhai…" you then lowered your gaze and finally realized that you were in his bed NAKED. "…tham."

"It's okay, you should lie down and rest." he looked at your face before scanning your body. Bruises, marks, flushed face, and…

"my body hurts." you whispered, feeling a bit conscious when he started to scan your body. You covered it with his blanket and looked away.

…sore body. Alhaitham hid a somewhat victorious ghost smile and sat on the edge of the bed, the blanket barely covering his waist. His back was facing you and you noticed

The red marks on his back that somehow looked like a…

"Scratch?" you whispered again with your soft hoarse voice. Alhaitham heard, his right arm reaching his back before facing you. "I thought it was implied that Akademiya students shouldn't have long nails?" he looked at your fingers to see an opal-colored nail polish with your nails with just the right length and round shape which you quickly hid from him.

He looked at your figure again making him gaze at you intently, eyes piercing before he looked away and faced the wall. He palmed his face when he realized his morning wood is up and is in dire need of attention. Morning woods are normal to him every morning but this?

He shrugged off the want to feel your pussy walls in him again but Archons it did want him to feel that again. He stood up and got his brief and boxers and wore it. He took a new off coat from his cabinet and handed it over to you which you accepted. "Or would you like a sweatshirt instead?"

"This is already fine, thank you." you couldn't look at him, he was barely dressed and his body is too beautiful and distracting, stimulating you to think about irrational and unholy thoughts. Pray the archons none of them actually reads your mind.

You took the well folded and newly laundered cloth and looked at it. Your mind was still hazy and foggy making Alhaitham think you actually didn't know how to wear them. He took a sweatshirt from his cabinet and sat beside you.

"Seems like you forgot how to wear clothes I suppose."

"No…"

He didn't listen, he took his sweatshirt. "Get dressed, we're eating breakfast."

As much as you wanted to, you just felt that your body was that tired and just gave him a helpless look. "Haitham… need help. I feel sore."

Another sigh, Alhaitham took the blanket and revealed your body again. Plush thighs with marks, beautiful mounds with marks on your under boobs and some on your waist. Your neck and color bones decorated with his marks. Seems like he enjoyed his self quite too much last night he admitted. He gulped and helped you get clothed.

He then gazed at you.

"Don't look at me like that. Those eyes of yours" clenching his jaw, he looked at you again with piercing gaze.

"Look at you like?"

He came closer to you, gently wrapping his one arm all over your waist and pulling you close to him while he rested his back on the bed frame. He left kisses again on each mark he left on your neck and gently raised his sweatshirt you wore.

You softly whimpered from his actions, eyes closed and hands wrapped on his neck. Just as about he was about to leave another mark…

"Alhaitham open the fucking door, I have something to get!" Kaveh's frustrated voice and loud knocks made you hitch your breath. "Alhaitham! Damn it you Scribe! open!"

"Haitham…" You looked at him but he doesn't seem to mind Kaveh's wanting to break the door. He nibbled on your left nipple and gropped on your right breast while he looked at you. He started to suck on in it slowly and closed his eyes, alternating his sucking from your left nipple to your right.

Kaveh's knocks were getting loud and you were already telling Alhaitham that you should hide but oh, Alhaitham has better plans.

"Dude open the door, Archons!"

Alhaitham stood up and wore his shorts before he gently carried you like a bride as he went to the door. Truth is, you didn't know what Alhaitham's plan was. All he did was give you his stoic look before smiling devilishly while he draped you with his coat. You wrapped your arms around his neck to hold onto him.

Alhaitham finally opened the door.

"Thank Archons you actually opened-"

Kaveh's voice dropped as what he saw. Alhaitham gave him his usual stoic face as he gave you a nudge. You slowly looked at Kaveh with a flushed and embarrassed look.

"Come in." Alhaitham spoke. "Best not to leave your keys behind again." The sarcastic remark from Alhaitham dripping all over his tone.

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