#and thus boring I in turn seem to be

[theskoomacat]

M*uthwashing was good, the only things i didn't enjoy lie in the area of writing (but so do some things i enjoyed the most!) - but I expected more from it? kinda?

[taeghi]

game changer

your investigation into the rivalry between the baseball and hockey teams takes an unexpected turn when both captains, heeseung and sunghoon, vie for your attention. and now you find yourself in the middle of a story that promises to be bigger than any game.

PAIRING : hockey captain!sunghoon x sports reporter!yn x baseball captain!heeseung

GENTRE: SMUT, love triangle, threesome duh, oral, unprotected sex, cum eating lol, praise, degradation. uhhh probs more but i forget ily

WC : 20.2k

mdni

truth be told, you hated sports. 

you hated the religious jerseys, the chants, the complex rules– how it was so boring. 

but, sometimes the athletes were hot. 

in junior year you joined your college’s newspaper, you thought it would help your journalism major. your boss had told you the only opening was for the college’s sports reporter since the previous one had “given up”. although you had repetitively asked if there was literally any other opening, sports was the only one. 

and thus, you have become your college’s sports reporter. 

your college has multiple sports teams; basketball, baseball, rugby, football. but the teams that your college are most proud of– the teams that would fill the bleachers every game– is the baseball and hockey teams. 

honestly, you don’t get either sport. one was on grass and the other was ice and you try to get some object in a net. you could care less. 

the baseball and hockey teams have a hatred for one another that the students at your school seem to enjoy. though, the reason for the strong hatred is unknown. you’ve asked your friends in passing about the teams, but their answer is always a prediction or suggestion. 

the real reason is kept by the baseball and hockey teams, like a secret only they can know. 

and so, you’ve made your number one goal as sport’s reporter to find out what that secret is, and nothing will stop you– not even the awful smell of the change rooms.

the captain of the baseball team is lee heeseung. you know he was appointed captain quite early into his college baseball career. you remember everyone talking about it during your freshman year, about how odd it was for a freshman to become captain so quickly. 

you also know lee heeseung is fucking hot. 

he is extraverted and outgoing, a real sweetheart. you’ve heard people refer to him as a golden retriever before. the way he’s so playful, enthusiastic and friendly to everyone. 

but sometimes, that friendliness turns into flirting, and no one can deny lee heeseung’s flirting. he can easily charm anyone into bed with him with just his words and dazzling smile. he has an uncanny ability to captivate anyone. his natural charisma and genuine warmth make him irresistible. which leaves a trail of admirers just for him. 

the hockey team’s captain is no other than park sunghoon. 

sunghoon is enigmatic to say the least. he gives an aura of mystery and danger that seems to draw people in like moths to a flame. he’s known to have gotten into a lot of fights on and off the ice, almost losing his captain privilege once or so you’ve heard. 

sunghoon’s strong presence practically commands attention wherever he goes. his trademark smirk has gotten him into a lot of fun and a lot of trouble. you’ve seen him at a party, alone in a corner, pretending to talk to his friends, as he scans the party for a decent girl. once he’s fixed you with his intense gaze, smirk and nods in silent invitation, any girl is powerless to resist following him up to his bedroom.  park sunghoon and lee heeseung’s opposed allures are undeniable, their appeals irresistible, but you are determined to not fall for it. you must stick to your duty of finding out the secrets of the baseball and hockey teams– even if it means resisting the most desirable men at your college.

your first day on the job is picture day for all the athletes at your school. you are tasked with asking a few of the athletes some questions you had to come up with about their sport and how they are feeling about the upcoming sport season. 

it couldn’t be too bad you think. 

“everyone!” coach davis calls everyone’s attention, “we have a new reporter today, her name is y/n.” 

suddenly, it feels like every single pair of eyes on this soccer field is looking at you. you’re surrounded by what feels like one hundred men at once. 

“what happened to kevin?” someone calls out to the coach, the boy is on the soccer team by the looks of his uniform. 

“he quit.” coach davis explains. 

“no, he had a mental breakdown.” a boy in a basketball uniform clarifies. 

your head tilts in concern at the information. you were only told that the previous reporter had quit. no alleged mental breakdown was mentioned in your interview with your manager. what the hell happened to kevin with this job?

coach davis sighs beside you, his fingers pressing his nose bridge, “anyways, as i was saying,” the coach gives you a look of sympathy, “y/n here is our new reporter, so please treat her nicely like i know you all can. and take it easy on her, it’s her first day.” 

there is a mixed reaction from the large crowd in front of you and you don’t know where to look besides the ground. a few of them reply with “yes, coach”, while others are trying to stifle a laugh or are laughing. you can practically feel them judging or teasing you from across the field. by theirs and the coach's reaction, you wonder if they had a part in kevin’s “mental breakdown”. 

you have no idea how today is going to go.

after each athlete has done their team and solo photo for the year, they’re gonna line up for you to ask them a few questions for the college newspaper and yearbook. the first team that is done is the baseball team. there is about 20 of them in a circle when you walk up to them, your heart palpitating once you realize how many of them there are and how tall they all are. 

one of the baseball players notices you walking up and nods to the rest of the group, “there she is. ready for a mental breakdown?” 

a few of his teammates laugh while one nudges him to shut up. 

“well, i didn’t really plan to have one today, but if it happens, then it happens.” you shrug, making the baseball player laugh in response. 

“my name’s jake,” he reaches his hand out for you to shake. 

“yeah, well jake here,” the teammate who nudged him earlier puts his hands on jake’s shoulder, “is gonna go to the back of the line where he can learn to be nicer.” 

jake scoffs, “heeseung, i was just joking with her.” he turns around to face his captain. 

it’s then that you finally get to look at lee heeseung in his baseball uniform. he’s taller than you thought, and he’s more tan than ever- probably from practicing baseball recently. but up close like this, he really is so attractive. 

“i don’t care, coach said to be nice and go easy on her today,” heeseung’s voice is stern, playing his captain role, “go to the back of the line you’ll go last.” 

jake doesn’t say much more before he walks to the back of the line, his teammates teasing him as he passes them. 

heeseung steps forward to you, “sorry about that, our previous reporter had a, uh…” 

“a mental breakdown?” you finish for him. 

a pretty smile spreads across heeseung’s face, “well yeah, i was trying to make it sound a bit better, but yeah he did.” 

“so, i’ve heard. but don’t worry,” you put your hand on your heart, “i promise to try to not have a mental breakdown today.” 

heeseung laughs, “yeah that'll probably be for the best.” he steps closer to you, reaching his hand out like jay had done, “i’m lee heeseung.” 

your hand meets his, “yeah, i know.” heeseung tilts his head with a smile as you try to ignore your stupidity. “i’m y/n y/l/n.” 

heeseung smiles at you as you try to ignore how much longer his hands are compared to yours, “so what questions do you have?” 

“oh right,” you snap back in reality as you snatch your hand away from his, instead you start to flip through your notebook. you clear your throat when you look at the first question you had written down specifically for lee heeseung. you press record on your voice recorder and hold it up between the two of you to catch your voices. “uh, how do you feel about being the captain of the baseball this year?” 

heeseung smiles at your question, it not faltering on his face as he answers, “it’s a big responsibility. but i love it, you know? the team is like a family to me.” 

you nod at his sweet answer, not expecting anything else but it. your eyes glance down to the second question on your notebook. you know the next one may cause his perfect smile to drop. “so, everyone on campus knows that there’s always been a rivalry between the baseball and hockey teams. as the captain of the baseball team, do you have anything to add onto that?” 

you notice heeseung’s smile falters at your mention of the hockey team, but it doesn’t completely fade from his face like you had thought it would.  instead, he answers calmly to your question. “i mean, we just try to focus on our own game. we don’t let some tension affect how we play.” 

you nod, biting your lip at how professionally he replied. it wasn’t exactly the answer you wanted, but he did acknowledge that there was in fact some tension between the two teams. “okay, and lastly, what do you think is the biggest misconception about the baseball team?” 

heeseung’s smile brightens again, “i think people think we’re just jocks, but there’s a lot of heart and hard work behind what we do. we’ll definitely be winning a lot of games this year.” 

you smile at his answer and stop your recording, “thanks heeseung, that was great.” 

“it’s no problem,” he points with his thumb behind his shoulder, “good luck with the rest of them, if they give you any trouble just let me know.”

“i’m sure i’ll be fine, heeseung. but thanks,” 

heeseung smiles again, “i’ll see you around then, y/n. i’m looking forward to it.” you notice his eyes run over your face, scanning your features, before they briefly glance over your body until they meet your eyes again. his smile never leaves his face. 

you pretend to not notice his eye path and smile back at him, “see you, heeseung.” heeseung turns and walks towards coach davis. 

you look down at your notebook again, clicking your pen and checking off that lee heeseung’s interview was done. the field is loud around  you, and you look around at all the athletes in their different uniforms. you sigh, thinking about how long a day of this is going to be. but hopefully you’ll be able to get a good story out of it for your report. 

you’re reading all the names on the attendance sheet coach gave you, recognizing some names and unfamiliar with the others. you feel someone looking at you, and you glance around the busy field. through all the boys goofing around and laughing, you notice one that’s stood still from a few meters away. 

it only takes a moment for you to realize that it’s park sunghoon. he’s surrounded by a small group of his teammates and they’re all busy with each other except for sunghoon, who’s looking straight at you from over his friend’s shoulder. his black hair is falling into his eyes and you can see his famous moles on his face from here. 

as you make eye contact with him, catching him staring at you, he doesn’t look away. unlike heeseung, who would instantly smile back and beam a golden light, sunghoon’s facial expression doesn’t change. his eyes are piercing and cold as they stare at you. you can tell there’s a hint of curiosity on his features as he analyzes you from across the field. he doesn’t smile, his plump lips stay in a straight line. 

you couldn’t lie and say that you weren’t intrigued by his demeanor. that you weren’t interested in how focused, and almost stubbornly, he was staring at you. his eyes maybe staying on your bare legs from your skirt for a little too long than anyone else would. you thought about interviewing him next, seeing if he would have anything more to say about the rivalry than heeseung did. 

“hey, reporter girl! jungwon wants to be interviewed next!” a boy suddenly calls out to you. you turn and see that it’s another baseball boy, and he’s pointing to a boy beside him who’s probably named jungwon. you smile at them and nod. you turn your head over your shoulder to look back at sunghoon, but he’s not there anymore. you frustratedly pout as the other captain isn’t there anymore. but make your way to the baseball players again. hopefully they will give you more information.

you groan in your desk chair, staring at the scattered papers and notes in front of you. you had spent hours going over the interviews and information you gathered from picture day, but most of it was useless. the answers you got were vague and unhelpful, leaving you with more questions than answers.

you rub your temples, trying to soothe the growing headache from your relentless efforts. the only thing you can confirm is that there is a rivalry, and everyone knows about it. but no one seems willing to spill the details. it’s like they’re all under a gag order.

you glance at the attendance sheet coach davis gave you on picture day, every name was checked off that you had interviewed– except for park sunghoon. he had disappeared before you could interview him. the field was empty before you realized that you had missed him. 

your frustration bubbles over as you huff, pushing your notebook away. this investigation was turning out to be much more challenging than you anticipated. you thought being the new sports reporter would be relatively easy, but it turns out it’s harder than you imagined. it felt like you were running in circles. 

but at the same time it makes you more determined to uncover the truth. the headline you’ll be able to release makes you excited and you know it’ll be good for your career once you graduate. but for now, you let out another groan and sink back into your chair, contemplating your next move.

the journalism office door opens and blair, the arts and culture reporter of the college, who is also your friend, walks in with a concerned look on her face once she sees you slumped in your chair. 

“are you frustrated?” she asks, setting her bag down on the desk next to you.

“very.”

blair leans against the desk, her eyes sparkling with an idea. “well, if the athletes won’t speak, maybe get information from the students.”

your eyes widen at her suggestion. “blair, you’re a genius!” you exclaim, a renewed sense of determination flooding through you. you jump up from your chair, grabbing blair by the arm.

“what—?” she starts, but you’re already on the move, scooping up your notebook and pen in one swift motion.

“come on, we’re going to get the information from the public. the people who spread the rumors,” you say, practically dragging her out of the journalism office. you’re determined to get some answers. 

you usher blair to get her phone out, recording your interaction with students as you use a makeshift microphone; your voice recorder attached to a ruler. you tell blair to start recording, you start slowly walking back, talking into the “microphone” as you introduce the video. 

“today, we are at enha university,” you speak confidently, “there is a years long feud between the hockey and baseball teams– but what is the reason for it? today we will be asking the students that go to enha university for their opinion.” 

blair stops recording and puts her phone down to smile at you, “that was good, let’s go.” 

you first head out to the main quad, and walk up to a group of students who are sprawled on the grass. “hey guys, mind if we ask you some questions for the school newspaper?” the students all nod and blair pulls out her phone to record again, with her signal, you start, “so what do you know about the feud between the baseball and hockey teams?” you ask, holding up your makeshift microphone, you shove it in the student’s faces. 

“oh, it’s wild,” one student says, eyes wide. “i heard the baseball team thinks the hockey team was behind some major equipment theft. like, they’re convinced the hockey team took their bats!”

“yeah, and the hockey team thinks the baseball team has been spreading rumors to get them disqualified from big games,” another adds.

“okay, but what’s causing them to steal equipment and try to get them banned? what started it?” you press the two of them. 

the students shrug. “don’t know,” one says.

you look at blair’s camera with a frustrated expression, then turn back to the students. “thanks,” you say bluntly before moving on.

at the library stairs, you find a couple of students taking a break. you walk up to them with blair’s phone recording and your microphone up to your lips. 

“have you heard of the baseball and hockey team rivalry?” you ask them once you’re on the stairs with them. 

“oh god, who hasn’t?” one student says, rolling their eyes.

“what have you heard?” you tilt your head and pass the ruler microphone to them. 

“i heard the hockey team once accused the baseball team of planting false reports about them to the administration.”

“and the baseball team is sure the hockey team is trying to sabotage their top players,” another student on the stairs adds.

“thanks for the info,” you say, not pressing further, and nod for blair to follow you. 

once inside the school, you decide to head to the cafeteria. since it’s lunch time, it’s extremely busy. you approach a random group of students that are sitting at a table near a window. 

“what can you guys tell me about the feud  between the hockey and baseball teams?” you ask them, moving to sit beside them at the table. 

the students take note of your microphone and blair’s phone recording before they answer with a laugh. “someone said the baseball team trashed the hockey team’s frat house during a party.”

“yeah, they like, broke furniture and some alcohol bottles or something.” 

you note the details and move on to another group of students nearby.

“what’s up with the rivalry between the baseball and hockey teams?” you ask the trio. 

“some crazy stuff,” one student says. “i heard the hockey team took the baseball team’s playbook.”

“what playbook?” you ask, confused.

“it’s this book full of all the girls they’ve hooked up with over the years,” the student explains. “apparently, the hockey team thought it’d be funny to steal it.”

you exchange a look with blair, “thanks.” 

you and blair step outside into the main quad again. you plan on going back to the journalism office to review the footage and information you and blair recorded. 

“that was definitely some progress,” blair nods at you as she scrolls through the multiple videos on her phone. 

you nod, “yeah i think the playbook rumour was a good start.” 

“right?” blair agrees excitedly, “i mean a book full of all the girls they’ve hooked up with? that’s disgusting, no wonder there’s a feud.” 

you hum, “i wonder where that playbook is now.” 

blair gives you a look like you're onto something, both of you laughing as you continue to walk. she passes you to the phone so you can see how many recordings she got of your interviews. “we sure got a lot of footage,” you start, but blair cuts you off. 

“hey, isn’t that guy on the baseball team?” she says, pointing to a guy walking toward you. you look up and see him glancing down at his phone, a baseball bag slung over his shoulder with the enha university logo.

you recognize him as jake, and you quickly shove blair’s phone into her hand. “record.”

blair starts the recording as you jog over to jake, microphone in hand. “jake, you’re on the baseball team!”

jake glances up, noticing the microphone and blair recording. he chuckles, clearly not surprised. “well, yeah.”

“how do you feel about having a rivalry with the hockey team?” you ask, trying to get straight to the point.

jake raises an eyebrow, clearly puzzled by your question. “why do you want to know?”

you dodge his question and ask, “do you know anything about a playbook?”

jake looks at you, slightly confused. “uh, no?”

“how about a party where things got destroyed?” you press.

jake shrugs, “uh, every party has something destroyed after. what’s this about, y/n?”

you sigh and tell blair to stop recording. “i’m trying to find out the reason for the rivalry between the teams,” you explain.

jake laughs. “good luck with that. it’s just one sided from the hockey team. heeseung’s a good captain.”

you give him a determined look. “what do you mean by that?”

jake chuckles and starts walking away, “see you around, y/n.”

you watch him go across the main quad, determination flooding through you as you cross your arms over your chest. 

“i’m going to find out blair, no matter how hard it takes to break these athletes down. i will find out.” 

blair nods, and links her arm through yours, “yeah, but first, let’s get lunch. i’m starving.”

you remembered how park sunghoon had skipped your interview during picture day, leaving you with only one comment from one of the captains involved with the rivalry. 

so, you decide to make your way to the hockey rink on campus. 

you’ve heard that sunghoon shows up an hour early to practice. so you think that if you find him now, alone, he’ll be more forthcoming. you figure it’s worth a shot. 

when you reach the rink, you spot him skating alone on the ice, the sound of his skates slicing through the rink echoing in the otherwise quiet space. you glance down hesitantly at the ice below you. it’s clean and shiny and hard. you had never been good at skating. the fear of falling and hitting your head was too big of a fear for you. 

but you glance over at sunghoon, who hasn’t noticed your presence yet, too enthralled by skating.  you watch as he jumps in the air, twirling. and you’re suddenly taken aback by how graceful the jump was. you thought hockey boys were aggressive and rough. you’ve seen them tackle each other on the ice all the time, body checking each other into the rink. but now, sunghoon looked delicate and soft as he glided around. 

you take one more glance at the ice below you and sigh, knowing that you’ll have to face your fear and step onto it. the story was too good to pass up because of a childhood fear. 

you take your first step on the ice and figure that it’s okay. you keep walking slowly over to where sunghoon was. as you approach sooner, almost forgetting that you were even on ice, you feel your foot slip up into the air. you feel yourself falling, but before you can reach the cold ice, an arm catches you to hold you up. 

you open your eyes, and see sunghoon’s face over yours, his arm wrapped around you. he has an annoyed expression on his face as he looks down at you. like he’s judging you for falling. 

but you’re struck by how close you are to him. his skin is as pale as the ice beneath you, and for a moment, you just stare at him, caught off guard by his striking features.

“you should be careful,” he says, his voice as cool as his demeanor.

you pull away and stand up on the ice, still uneasy. “i am careful,” you retort, trying to sound more confident than you feel.

sunghoon raises an eyebrow, his expression distant. he looks you up and down, his eyes landing on your notebook and pen in your hand. “are you here to interview me about hockey?”

you frown, feeling defensive. “uh, i don’t know anything about hockey.”

sunghoon’s curiosity piques. “why are you the sports reporter if you don’t know sports?”

your irritation flares. “look, just tell me about the rivalry between the hockey and baseball teams.”

unghoon’s lips curl into a small, enigmatic smile as he laughs for the first time. the sound catches you off guard, leaving you both confused and nervous.

“the feud that the baseball team started and is constantly complaining about? why don’t you go ask them?” he says, his tone dripping with indifference. “i’m busy.”

sunghoon starts to turn around, but you question him, “how come you’re so good at doing those spins?” 

he stops and turns to look at you over his shoulder, “i’m not good.” he starts to skate off to the other side of the rink. 

you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. park sunghoon is a real piece of work. you start to slowly turn around, your lip pulled between your teeth as you look down at your feet on the ice. you feel your heart start to pound as you try to move across the ice to get off the rink. the ice is just so slippery. you can tell it was cleaned recently. 

suddenly, you feel a firm grip around your waist, and before you can react, sunghoon scoops you up in his arms and skates swiftly over to the side of the rink. you’re shocked at how fast he moves; it’s like he’s gliding on air. you’ve heard that he’s the fastest on the ice, but now that he was skating with you, you could tell how fast he really was. he deposits you gently on the edge, where you stand, stunned.

“uh, thanks,” you manage to stammer, still trying to process what just happened.

sunghoon scoffs, giving you a quick, dismissive glance before skating back to the center of the rink. you watch him, feeling a mix of confusion and embarrassment. you turn to leave, feeling defeated and empty-handed for your report.

“hey, yn!” sunghoon’s voice calls out, making you turn around.

“yeah?” you respond, already halfway to the door. 

“why do you want to know about the rivalry anyway?” he asks, his tone oddly curious.

“because it’s my job to know,”

with that, you spin on your heel and leave the rink, leaving sunghoon to his practice. 

as you walk back to the journalism office,  your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts. park sunghoon and lee heeseung are polar opposites, and it’s no wonder they can’t stand each other. 

sunghoon is so cold like the ice he practices on. he’s distant, wrapped up in his own world. there’s a certain intensity about him, a focus that’s almost intimidating. he’s methodical and precise on the ice, every movement calculated and deliberate. he’s almost unapproachable with his piercing gaze. 

and then heeseung is warm, outgoing and easy to talk to. he’s got this effortless charm and friendliness that makes everyone around him feel at ease. he’s the guy who lights up a room just by being in it, and it’s clear he’s well-liked, even if he’s a bit of a show-off.

you wonder what might have caused such deep hatred for one another. what could it be that connects them besides their role on a sports team. they’re just too different. 

your frustration mounts as you think about how little you’ve uncovered so far. both of them are so closed off to your questions. but it doesn’t make you any less determined to get to the bottom of their feud. no matter how much time it takes. 

there’s a story here, and you’re not giving up until you’ve got it all figured out.

on friday night, coach davis insisted you attend the baseball game, claiming that it was crucial for your report. so since it was your job, you went. even though you barely understood how baseball worked. still, you found yourself in the bleachers, a notepad in hand, surrounded by other students. 

the game began, and you tried to focus on the actual game, but your eyes kept drifting to heeseung on the field. it was the first time you’d seen him without a smile on his face. his expression was serious, concentrated and his eyes never left the ball. 

you watched as heeseung sprinted across teh field. the crack of the bat echoed, and heeseung was off before anyone else, to catch the ball. you held your breath, washing as he dove and grabbed it from the air. 

the bleachers erupted in cheers, the students jumping up and down around you as sat still. they were all screaming and calling his name. heeseung stood up, his charming smile spreading across his face as he held up the ball, showing off his catch to the audience. 

amidst the chaos, you could have sworn he winked at you.

on monday morning, after a long weekend of thinking about both captains and the rivalry. ou've been pouring over your notes, trying to piece together the story. you realize you need to hit this head-on. so, you storm into the boys’ hockey changing room first thing in the morning. 

the first thing you notice upon entering is the smell. it's a potent mix of cologne, sweat, and shampoo that makes you turn up your nose in disgust. some of the boys notice you immediately and start teasing you. 

"look who decided to pay us a visit," one of them says, grinning. "if you wanted to see us so bad, you could've just asked."

you roll your eyes, snarky in your response, "trust me, i'm not here because i wanted to see you.” 

another boy chimes in, "kevin never barged in on us while we were changing." he mentions the previous sports reporter you replaced, and you try to ignore their lack of shirts. 

before you can retort, sunghoon appears, his presence commanding attention. "okay, knock it off. go to class," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

the boys groan, but they obey, mumbling about how sunghoon is no fun. as they leave, they wink or nudge you, adding to your frustration. finally, it's just you and sunghoon left alone in the changing room. you notice he's shirtless too, and it makes you gulp.

sunghoon's eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you forget why you're there. his skin is pale, his muscles defined, and he exudes a calm confidence that's both intimidating and intriguing.

"what do you want, y/n?" he asks, his voice steady and cold.

you take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "i need to know about the rivalry between the hockey and baseball teams. i can't write my report without the full story."

sunghoon narrows his eyes slightly, studying you. "and you think barging in here is the way to get answers?"

"i think it's the only way," you reply, your voice firm despite your nerves.

he scoffs softly, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “well i’m showering.” 

you stand your ground as you watch him turn and walk towards the showers, only in his boxers. “so? are you gonna help me or not? i’ll do anything.” you sound desperate and you hate it. sunghoon turns on the shower. the water warming up. 

sunghoon turns to face you, his arms crossing over his bare chest and he quirks his eyebrow, “anything?” 

“anything.” 

a mischievous smile spreads across his face, “then get on your knees and show me just how badly you want it.” 

your breath catches in your throat as you process his demand. he chuckles at your appalled demeanor. he bends down and takes off his boxers, your eyes widened as his semi-hard cock is revealed. he steps back into the shower water– the water pouring over his pale, muscular body. his black hair becomes darker over his eyes. 

you think quickly of your choices. walk away with pride and no story? or give the hot hockey captain a blowjob and get a great story? 

you choose the latter with no further thought. 

you glance around one more time, the locker room is completely empty. you sigh as your hands pull your shirt off of your body, leaving your torso bare for sunghoon to see. his eyes stay fixated on your exposed skin. a smirk grows on his lips as he realizes that you really will do anything. 

you reach down and pull your skirt off, not wanting your clothes to become wet in the shower, and you step into the shower. you slowly sink to your knees, feeling the warm water hit your body now. your heart is pounding in your ears, but you can’t deny the arousal you’re feeling at the same time. 

“that’s it,” sunghoon encourages you, his voice like velvet against the shower walls, “now sow me what that nasty mouth of yours can do.” 

your hands shake as you reach up to touch his warm skin. his cock is harder now, so thick and veiny. you can’t help but let out a soft gasp at the sight. 

“you’ve wanted my cock in your mouth for so long haven’t you?” sunghoon taunts you, his hand reaching down to tangle in your damp hair. “go on then, taste it.” 

you lean forward, your lips wrapping around the sensitive head of his cock, tasting the tang of his arousal. you swirl your tongue, teasing the slit, as sunghoon groans above you.

“fuck, that's good. take more of me," he urges, his hips bucking slightly.

you oblige, taking him deeper into your mouth, relaxing your throat to accommodate his length. your lips slide down his shaft, your breath ghosting over the sensitive skin as you start to bob your head.

"ah, fuck, yes," sunghoon hisses, his hand tightening in your hair. "you're a natural at this, aren't you? sucking cock like a good little slut."

you moan around his thickness, the vibrations sending a shudder through him. the sound of your pleasure seems to spur him on, and he begins to thrust his hips in a slow, steady rhythm, fucking your mouth gently.

"take it,” he growls out at you, “you’re always getting yourself into a mess with that mouth, i think you need to be quiet for a while. so take my cock down your throat like the whore you are.”

his words are degrading, but they only serve to heighten your arousal. you never thought that you would be in this predicament before. so many girls would beg to be on their knees for park sunghoon. you never thought that you would be here, pleasuring him. though, you suppose both of you get something out of it. he gets to cum, and you get information for your story.

you hollow your cheeks, sucking harder, your tongue flattening to lick and tease his cock as you go. 

“oh god,” sunghoon groans out as he stares down at you. you force your eyes to stay open so they can look into his. you can see pure pleasure growing in his eyes. his eyebrows furrowed as he lets the pleasure take over his body. 

“fuck i’m gonna cum,” sunghoon grunts out, his grip on your wet hair tightens and he pulls your mouth off of his cock, leaving a string of saliva to connect your swollen lips to his sensitive tip. “tell me that you want me to cum down your throat.” 

you swallow before you speak, “i want you to cum down my throat, sir.” 

sunghoon hums in response, pleased by your answer. and honestly, you wre thrilled at the thought of tasting him, of having his hot release flooding in your mouth. because even if he was an asshole, he was very hot. you want to give him sexual pleasure, to milk him dry and feel his satisfaction. 

sunghoon shoves his cock back into your mouth roughly. you gag around him and it only makes him grunt out more. you continue to bob up and down his length at a fast pace, wanting him to cum. “fuck yes!” 

sunghoon tenses, his hand fisting in your hair, pulling on it, as he holds you firmly in place. with a deep grunt, he begins to unload inside your mouth. his ropes of hot, sticky cum shoot down your throat. 

and you swallow it all greedily, moaning at the taste. your fingers dig into his thighs. 

sunghoon lets go of you, his body relaxing back into the shower wall. both of your bodies are wet from sweat and the shower water. he’s panting as he catches his breath. his body is slightly shaking as he rides out his orgasm. “that mouth of yours is something else, reporter girl.” 

you raise an eyebrow up at him, his nickname for you brings you back to reality, “right so how about you use your mouth now to tell me my story.” 

sunghoon chuckles as he watches you stand up and exit the shower. you grab a spare towel and dry your body and hair, all while sunghoon stays in the shower, watching you silently. you try to not let yourself get intimidated by his staring. you’re sure that he gets off on making girls intimidated by how attractive he is. him knowing how attractive he is isn’t good for anyone besides him. 

you start to get dressed, your wet hair clinging to your face and neck. 

“i can’t believe you actually gave me a blowjob,” sunghoon grins, amused. you can see an annoying glint in his eye. 

“well you said you would tell me the story.” 

sunghoon shrugs, “yeah i said that. but i don’t have to tell you my story.” 

your jaw drops in disbelief. “are you kidding me? you tricked me!” 

“you’re easier than i expected,”

your anger flares up, cheeks burning. "you think this is funny? you just wasted my time for nothing!"

he crosses his arms, still smirking. "just give up on the rivalry story, y/n. you aren't going to find anything. go back to writing about the sports games. that’s what you were hired for anyways."

you grunt in frustration, grabbing your bag. “you’re so annoying, sunghoon!” you yell as you storm towards the exit. as you leave, you hear his chuckles turn into laughter as they echo in the locker room. 

"see you at the game, reporter girl!" he calls out, his voice mocking.

you don't look back.

on friday night, you’ve still gotten no new information about the rivalry all week, despite your best efforts. you’ve started to wonder if sunghoon was right and you should give up on the story. even if you really don’t want to. 

you’re sitting at your desk in the journalism office, frustrated. your name plate sits on your desk in front of you with bold letters underneath it that write : sports reporter. and you’re starting to hate looking at it. 

you’ll have to write about the rugby team’s game from the night before for monday’s paper. but your heart isn’t in it. you want to write something more substantial than scores and plays that the rugby players did. 

then, blair walks in, a little pep to her step as she glides through the empty office and straight towards you. “still nothing?” she asks, leaning against your desk. 

“yeah, nothing new,” you reply, staring at your blank screen.

 “maybe you should take the weekend off from this. let’s go to a party tonight.” blair’s eyes light up at the suggestion, her eyes wanting you to agree with her. 

you look up, curious. “whose party?”

 “lee heeseung’s.”

you scramble to grab your bag and swing it over your shoulder as you stand up, “let’s go.” 

blair laughs as you pull her through the office, “don’t you want to change first?” 

you stop and glance down at your plain blouse and plaid skirt, “no, this party is for work. i’ll play later.”

you rush blair to hurry up, your mind set on the party. all you can think about is getting more information about the rivalry. it’s going to be the death of you, but you’re determined to get to the bottom of it.

when

you and blair arrive at the party, the noise and energy hitting you as soon as you step inside the frat house. it’s just as crowded as you expected, and you’ve heard it’s a no hockey team allowed party.

you glance around, trying to spot the baseball players. your eyes land on jake standing by the backdoor. you turn to blair and say, “i’ll see you later,” before heading over to him.

jake notices you approaching and smiles. you can tell he’s already intoxicated just from looking at him. the cup he’s holding is sure to have alcohol in it. 

“hey, y/n!” 

“hi jake!” 

“i didn’t expect to see you here of all people.”

you laugh, “yeah, me neither.” 

jake spreads out his arms to show off the busy house, “well welcome to our party!” 

you nod along, laughing at house extraverted and drunk he is. “yeah, how is the team doing?” 

“we’re doing great! heeseung’s been killing it all season.” 

you tilt your head at the mention of heeseung, “right, i heard he’s pretty good.” 

jake nods enthusiastically. “yeah, he’s the best. i’ve known him for a while.”

“really? how did you guys meet?”

“we went to the same high school,” jake explains. “he was already a legend back then.”

you nod along, smiling, but your mind is racing. you realize that jake could be a goldmine of information about the rivalry. he must know something. you’re determined to get as much out of him as you can.

“that’s cool,” you say. “so, what’s the deal with this rivalry with the hockey team? seems intense.”

jake’s expression shifts slightly. “yeah, it’s complicated. a lot of history there.”

you’re about to press him more when another baseball player bursts in, shouting, “jake, come outside! jeongin is doing a beer keg!”

jake grins, “one sec!” he turns back to you and says, “i’ll see you later?”

you nod, “yeah, sure.”

jake smiles and runs out to join his friends, leaving you alone. you huff in frustration, looking around the crowded room. blair is nowhere in sight.

you start to weave through the crowded rooms, the partiers dancing around you. your eyes scan for any sign of blair, but she seems to have vanished into the sea of people. you turn a corner and nearly collide with someone.

“hey,” a familiar voice says.

you look up and find yourself face to face with heeseung. up close, his attractiveness catches you off guard again, and you’re momentarily speechless. “oh, hi heeseung,” you manage to say.

he flashes a charming smile. “i’ve literally never seen you at a party before, let alone my own party.”

you laugh nervously, “yeah, it’s not really my thing.”

heeseung’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “oh, so why’d you choose to come to this one?”

“uh,” you hesitate, your mind racing. you can’t exactly tell him you’re here to gather information about the rivalry for your report.

heeseung raises an eyebrow, his smile turning slightly mischievous. “to see me?”

you laugh awkwardly, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “well, i mean…”

heeseung laughs too, a warm, genuine sound that makes you feel a bit more at ease. “i’m just messing with you. i’m glad you came, though. it’s nice to see you.” 

you’re really shocked at how good he is at flirting. it makes you almost forget why you’re here. makes you forget that you’re trying to write what is basically an expose on him. 

heeseung’s laughter fades into a soft smile, and he leans against the wall, looking at you with a curious expression. “so, you’re really not into parties? what do you usually do on weekends?”

“mostly just catch up on school work, maybe hang out with friends.” 

he nods, seemingly interested, and then his eyes widen as a thought enters his mind, “

oh wait, you’re in my bio class, right?”

you blink, slightly surprised. “yeah, i am.”

“can you come look at this one question i need help with for my paper?”

you give him a cautious look, unsure of what he’s up to. “uh, sure.”

“cool, it’s up in my room. come on.” before you can protest, heeseung grabs your arm gently and starts weaving through the crowd. you follow him, your heart pounding a little faster with each step.

he maneuvers through the throngs of people effortlessly, his grip on your arm firm yet gentle. he takes you up the stairs, away from the crowds of people below. he leads you down the hallway and finally stops in front of a door and gestures for you to go in first, “after you.” 

you step inside, glancing around his room. it’s surprisingly tidy for a guy’s room, with a few baseball memorabilia scattered around. heeseung closes the door behind you and walks over to his desk, rummaging through some papers.

as you look around, you notice a small, leather-bound book lying on his nightstand. you pick it up and flip it open, curious. “what’s this?” you ask, holding it up.

heeseung turns from his desk, his eyes narrowing as he sees what you’re holding. “oh, that’s just a journal I keep for tracking my training sessions and stats. it’s nothing special.”

you nod, putting the book back in its place.

you notice a picture of heeseung and jake from when they were younger, and you’re reminded of what jake had told you earlier. now that you think of it, jake seems to really look up to heeseung, admiring him almost. you suppose it’s because they’ve known each other for a while. 

the rest of heeseung’s shelves have multiple baseball trophies and medals. something you’d expect from a baseball captain. 

“did you find the paper yet?” you ask him after a few minutes. 

heeseung hisses in frustration and turns back to his desk. “no, i can’t seem to find it.” 

“oh,” you nod, not sure of what else to say as you stand before him in his bedroom, his own party lively right downstairs. 

but maybe you can help me with something else.”

you raise an eyebrow, turning to face him. “like what?”

"well," he began, stepping closer to you. his cologne filled your senses, a mix of musk and citrus that perfectly matched his confident persona. "i've been meaning to tell you, i think you're really sexy."

your mouth dropped open, shocked by his forwardness. "me?” you squeaked, feeling yourself blush with bewilderment. 

"yeah," he continued, a mischievous glint in his eye. "the way you look as you report, taking notes, biting your lip as you concentrate on writing... it's fucking hot.”

you felt your body temperature rise as his words washed over you. no one had ever told you that the way you worked was attractive. you always thought your lip-biting was a nervous habit, but hearing heeseung describe it as sexy made your heart skip a beat.

"i'm so glad you're at my games now," he went on, his voice low and intimate. "it makes me want to do my best, knowing you're watching."

you were speechless, stunned by his admission. you never thought that you would catch the attention of lee heeseung. he was so popular and desired by everyone. there’s no way that he would ever want you. 

without warning, heeseung stepped even closer, his body brushing against yours. you could feel the hardness of his muscles, his strength, and his lean frame. he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear, and whispered, "i want you, right here, right now."

your breath caught in your throat as his desire washed over you.

"i want to feel you, taste you," he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "let me show you how sexy i find you."

you nodded mutely, unable to form words, your body responding to his touch, to his raw, passionate desire. heeseung gently pushed you back toward his bed, his hands roaming over your body, mapping every inch of you with his strong, skilled hands.

"you're so beautiful," he growled, his eyes dark with desire as he looked at you.

you blushed under his intense gaze, feeling yourself grow wet at the way he was looking at you.

with gentle but firm hands, he guided you backward until the back of your knees hit the bed, and you sat down, your legs slightly apart. heeseung didn't waste a moment, moving between your thighs, his eyes never leaving yours.

"you have no idea how many times I've thought about this," he confessed, his voice hoarse as he reached out to stroke your cheek. “since the first day i saw you out on the field, when you were interviewing me.” 

you let out a shaky breath, your body buzzing with anticipation. no one had ever made you feel so desired, so wanted. you let him start to undress you, removing your blouse and skirt. it reminded you of when you were in the locker room with sunghoon. how different that encounter is to this one. heeseung’s taking his time with you, wanting to pleasure you. meanwhile sunghoon could only care about getting himself off. 

but both of them are able to get you so wet. 

heeseung's eyes traveled down your body, taking in your heaving chest, your nipples tight with anticipation, and the dampness between your thighs.

“you're so wet for me already," he observed with a groan. 

before you could reply, Heeseung lowered his head, his tongue snaking out to taste you. you gasped as he lapped at your core, his tongue probing and teasing your folds. he was relentless. his mouth kept licking and sucking at your most sensitive spots. he was able to find them so quickly it surprised you. 

"oh fuck," you moaned, your hands tangling in his hair as he ate you out with enthusiasm. "heeseung, I—"

"you like that, huh?" he asked, looking up at you briefly before diving back in, his tongue insistent, seeking out your swollen clit. "you like my tongue right here?"

"yes!" you cried out, your hips bucking involuntarily as he teased you with his mouth. "oh god, heeseung, don't stop!"

heeseung chuckled, the vibrations sending pleasant tingles through your sensitive core. "i wanna make you cum so hard, baby.” the pet name sent shivers (good ones) down your body, your stomach tightening as he was so gentle with you. 

and true to his word, he kept going, his tongue not stopping as he laps and probes at your pulsing clit. he suckled and nibbled, his fingers joining in, probing and stroking your slick entrance. you moaned and writhed under his gaze, his hands holding your thighs open. 

"heeseung, please!" you begged, your hands clutching at the bedsheets. "i’m so close!"

"cum for me, baby," he urged, his voice hoarse with desire. "let me taste you."

and with that, he suckled your clit gently between his lips, flicking it with his tongue, and you shattered. your back arched off the bed as a cry escaped your lips, your orgasm washing over you in waves of intense pleasure. heeseung didn't stop, licking your sensitive clit through your orgasm, drawing out every last drop of pleasure.

as you slowly came back down to earth, heeseung crawled up your body, his lips seeking yours. you could taste yourself on his mouth, and it only served to heighten your desire for him. his lips are gentle on yours, but needy. you could tell how sweet heeseung was. his praise was so different from sunghoon’s degrading. 

but for some reason you couldn’t help but crave both.

“let me fuck you, y/n.” heeseung whispers out, his face still close to yours. his eyes are so intense as you look at them. 

you nodded eagerly, your body still humming with the aftershocks of your orgasm. heeseung reached into his nightstand, pulling out a condom, but you stopped him.

"no," you whispered, your hands covering his. "i want to feel you, all of you."

heeseung's eyes flashed with surprise, and then understanding. "are you sure?"

you nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "i'm on the pill. i want to feel you."

a deep grin spread across heeseung's face, and he quickly shed the condom, his eyes never leaving yours. "fuck, you’re so hot.” he leans down again and kisses you with hunger. you don’t hesitate to kiss him back. 

with gentle hands, he positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of his hard cock brushing against your slick folds. you felt his girth, his length, and your breath quickened at the thought of taking all of him.

"you ready?" he asked, his voice gruff with need.

"yes," you breathed, your eyes fluttering closed as you prepared for his cock to stretch you out. 

in one smooth thrust, Heeseung filled you, stretching you deliciously as he slid deep within you. you moaned loudly, your body welcoming his, the sensation of being so full sending you into a frenzy.

heeseung stilled for a moment, giving you time to adjust, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "so fucking tight," he growled, his voice raw with desire. "fuck, you feel amazing."

you opened your eyes, looking into his, and nodded. "move," you pleaded, your nails digging into his arms. "please."

with a grunt, heeseung began to move, pulling out slowly until just the tip remained, and then slamming back into you. you cried out, your back arching off the bed as he set a brutal pace, his hips snapping as he plunged in and out of your tight heat.

"oh god, heeseung!" you moaned, your body on fire, the pleasure building again. "harder!"

heeseung complied, his hands gripping your thighs as he pounded into you mercilessly. the bed creaked with the force of his thrusts, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

"that's it, take it all," he grunted, his eyes screwed shut in concentration. "you're so tight around me, baby."

"don't stop! please!" you begged, your nails digging into his shoulders. "fuck me, heeseung! make me cum again!"

heeseung's eyes flew open, locking with yours, and he increased his pace, his hips a blur as he drove into you with all his strength. "cum for me again," he demanded, his voice harsh. "let me feel that sweet pussy clenching around my dick."

your orgasm built like a tidal wave, the pressure in your core becoming unbearable. and then, with a loud cry, you shattered once more, your body tightening around his. heeseung groaned, his eyes rolling back as he felt your tight channel convulsing around him.

"that's it, baby, milk my cock," he encouraged, his thrusts becoming erratic as your spasming walls milked him. "fuck, I'm close!"

you whimpered as he pounded into you relentlessly, his balls slapping against your sensitive core. "cum inside of me, heeseung," your eyebrows furrowed together as you watched him continue to thrust in and out of you. “fill me up please, i want it so bad.” 

with a final moan, heeseung exploded within you, his hot cum flooding your pussy. he thrust a few more times, emptying himself completely, making a mess. 

heeseung leaves his face close to yours, making it easy for him to press his lips onto yours. they linger on yours for a while, soft and tender, as if he’s savoring the moment. when he finally pulls back, his eyes are warm, a stark contrast to the usual playful glint they hold. he brushes a few strands of hair away from your face, his touch gentle, almost reverent.

your mind is still hazy and your body is coming down from its high. you can almost barely feel his touch as he caresses your skin softly. 

you okay?” he whispers, his voice soft, filled with genuine concern.

you nod, feeling a strange flutter in your chest. “yeah… i’m okay.”

heeseung smiles at your breathlessness, thinking to himself how cute and worn out you look underneath him. your cheeks are flushed pink and there’s a thin line of sweat on your forehead. but he can’t help but think how beautiful you look.

heeseung seems to be fully present, fully focused on you. it makes your heart pound. he’s not rushing anything. 

he reaches over to grab a bottle of water, uncapping it and offering it to you first. “drink,” he says, his voice still gentle.

you take a sip, the cold water a sharp contrast to the warmth still lingering in your body. heeseung takes the bottle back, drinking after you, and then sets it aside. he pulls you close, kissing your forehead. 

then, he pulls away from you slowly, his lips brushing against yours one last time before he sits up. he moves with a certain tenderness, like he’s afraid to break whatever fragile thing has settled between you two. as he gets up, you watch him disappear into the bathroom, your heart still racing, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

he returns moments later with a towel in hand. you’re surprised when he kneels beside you, the soft light from the lamp casting a warm glow over his face. without a word, he gently begins to wipe your skin, careful and considerate. the gesture is intimate, unexpectedly so, and it makes your heart pound even harder.

you lie there, watching him in stunned silence as he moves with a gentle focus, his eyes soft and his touch deliberate. it’s almost like he’s caring for you in a way you didn’t expect—a way you hadn’t even thought possible.

you had heard that the captain of the baseball team, the one before you right now, was a player, that he was charming and friendly and he would suck you in before you even noticed. you wondered if this was his usual routine. the routine that had gotten so many other girls to fall for him, for so many hearts to break. 

heeseung meets your eyes briefly, offering a small smile, one that feels genuine, almost affectionate. “there,” he says softly, once he’s done, folding the towel and setting it aside.

“thank you,” you whisper, not really sure what else to say.

he nods, brushing a thumb over your cheek before standing up again. “i’ll be right back,” he says, his voice still soft, as he heads back into the bathroom.

you’re left lying there, heart still racing, as you try to make sense of the situation. you hadn’t exactly planned to be here, naked in lee heeseung’s bed. but you aren’t disappointed. 

when you had started this investigation, you had only heard surface layer information about heeseung. but now you know that there is so much more to him. 

as you lay there, the warmth of heeseung still lingering on your skin, your mind suddenly remembers the investigation. the reason you were even here in the first place. you sit up abruptly, the realization hitting you like a ton of bricks. you glance around the room. this is like an evidence goldmine. 

you spot a sweater on the floor and quickly throw it on. you know you have to be quick before heeseung comes back. 

your eyes scan the room, searching for anything that might give you some sort of clue, something that could move your investigation forward. but as you rummage through his things, you mostly find random stuff—some useless, some funny. an old baseball glove, a few crumpled up notes from class, a pack of gum.

but then, tucked away in a drawer in the far back, something catches your eye. you reach for it and pull out a small photograph. it’s a picture of heeseung and sunghoon, arms wrapped around each other, both of them smiling brightly. your jaw drops as you stare at it, your mind racing. they were friends at one point—close friends, from the looks of it. this changes everything.

before you can fully process the revelation, you hear footsteps. you quickly tuck the picture behind your back just as heeseung reappears from the bathroom.

“what’re you doing?” he asks, eyebrow raised in curiosity.

you force a casual smile, trying to act normal. “nothing, just… finding my clothes,” you say, glancing around as if you’re looking for them.

heeseung points to a pile near the bed. “they’re right there. but you can keep wearing my sweater if you want.”

you glance down and realize you’re indeed wearing his sweater, the fabric warm and soft against your skin. you smile, a little sheepishly. “oh, thanks.”

its awkward suddenly, maybe just on your side since you have his picture behind your back without him knowing. but thankfully, heeseung is the way he is and breaks the silence. 

“want a drive home?”

“yes, please,” you smile real big at him. 

when you’re dressed again and heeseung is driving you home, the night is quiet, with only the soft hum of the car engine and the gentle music playing in the background. the city lights blur past the windows, and you find yourself staring out at them, lost in thought. under the sweater heeseung let you borrow, the photograph you took is safely tucked away, its edges pressing into your skin like a guilty reminder.

you can’t stop thinking about how kind heeseung has been to you tonight. the way he looked at you, touched you so gently, and cared for you in a way that felt almost too genuine. it makes your heart ache, knowing that you don’t deserve any of it—not with your ulterior motives, not with the secrets you’re hiding. the guilt twists in your stomach, a gnawing sensation that won’t go away.

as the car pulls up in front of your apartment, you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. you glance over at heeseung, who’s already looking at you with that soft smile that makes your chest tighten.

“thanks, heeseung,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “for tonight.”

"no problem, y/n.” he smiles at you so genuinely it hurts, “just remember, i gave you a ride home—so no bad reviews in your next report."

you laugh, thinking about how little he knows about your intentions and investigation. but you nod anyways, not being able to say anything else. 

before you head inside, you turn back to him, catching his gaze one last time. “goodnight, heeseung.”

he smiles, waiting until you’re safely inside your apartment. you wave at him through the window, and he waves back before driving off into the night.

but as you close the door behind you, the emptiness settles in. the nausea in your stomach twists tighter, making you feel sick in a way that’s more than just physical. you hate this feeling—the way the guilt eats away at you, the way it taints every good moment you shared with him tonight. it’s a heavy weight, one you’re not sure how to shake off.

you wish you didn’t find the picture, but you know you can’t. there’s no turning back now, no undoing what you’ve set in motion. all you can do is push forward, even if it means sacrificing something you didn’t realize you wanted until now.

the journalism office was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that only late nights could bring. every other reporter had gone home, leaving you alone with just the glow of your desk lamp and the faint hum of your computer screen. the deadline for the week’s sports report was tonight. the empty word document on your screen taunting you as you struggled to figure out what to write.

your thoughts were a jumbled mess, torn between the story you knew could blow open your investigation and your gnawing conscience. the picture of heeseung and sunghoon from years ago sat on your desk beside you. it was a huge piece of evidence that could unravel everything. yet, the idea of exposing it felt wrong. 

you leaned back in your chair, running a hand through your hair in frustration. the memory of heeseung’s kindness gnawed at you, how he’d been so gentle, so sweet, kissing your forehead like he actually cared. and sunghoon, despite his aloof exterior, had ensured the other hockey players left you alone.

you sighed, staring at the blinking cursor on the screen, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. should you follow your morals and keep the picture hidden, protecting them from whatever fallout might come? or should you chase the story, the career-making headline that could propel you forward?

your heart ached with indecision. another thought of heeseung drifted through your mind—how he’d smiled at you, how he’d been so careful and tender, treating you like you mattered.

before you knew it, you were typing and the headline that was in bold across your screen read : 

Football Team Has Another Injury

you exhaled slowly, sending it to your professor before closing your laptop and turning off the lamp, plunging the office into darkness. you grabbed your bag and left the office.  as you walked out into the cool night air, all you could think about was your bed—ready for the quiet, for the thoughts to finally stop swirling about both of the captains.

you’re sitting in the quiet corner of the library. it’s midday and the library is somewhat busy. though, you’re alone at your table. your mind is racing, thoughts swirling about how to move forward with your investigation.

you’ve made such a big deal out of this investigation, but now you want to stop because of a picture you found?

you’ve examined the picture more carefully whilst you’re alone. it’s not crumpled or scratched in anyway, which means heeseung cared about this picture, unlike everything else thrown away in the drawer you found it in. 

suddenly, someone sits down in the chair in front of you. 

your eyes widen when you realize who it is, which his dark black hair over his eyes and his pink lips pulled straight. 

“uh, hi?”

“hey,” sunghoon replies, his tone as cold and unreserved as ever. he leans back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest like this is just another day.

you’re confused, to say the least. the last time you saw him things didn’t go as planned and he was exactly nice to you. so why’s he here, in front of you in a crowded library.

you close your laptop slightly, your curiosity piqued. 

“what are you doing here?” you ask, your voice coming out as reserved and cautious. 

“can’t i sit here?” sunghoon asks, his eyebrow quirking. 

you cross your own arms across your chest, your defensive side coming out. you didn’t care how hot or popular the man was in front of you; he was an asshole. 

““well, after last time, i didn’t think you’d want to,”

“what?” sunghoon’s brows furrow, his expression hardening.

you roll your eyes, the frustration from your last encounter bubbling up. “you were so awful to me last time. why would you want to sit here like nothing happened?”

sunghoon’s face changes. his shoulders slump slightly as he puts his head in his hands, not saying anything. the shift in his demeanor catches you off guard, and you’re left staring at him, waiting for him to speak. but the silence stretches, growing more awkward by the second. you don’t understand him. 

finally, you groan, tired of the tension and the weird atmosphere. you start to pack up your things, ready to escape whatever this is. but before you can finish, sunghoon reaches out and gently grabs your arm, stopping you. you look up at him, and his usual cold, detached expression is replaced with something you’ve never seen from him before—desperation.

“what is it?” you ask, your voice softening despite your earlier frustration.

sunghoon takes a deep breath, his hand dropping to his lap. “i’ve been under a lot of stress. with school, with the team... and i know it’s no excuse to be mean to you. i’m sorry.”

his words hang in the air between you, sincere and a little vulnerable. you weren’t expecting this at all, and it makes your heart soften toward him. you nod slowly, understanding that everyone has their breaking points.

“do you want to talk about it?” you ask gently, offering him a way to unload some of the weight he’s carrying.

he shakes his head, a small, almost sad smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “no, it’s fine. i just... i really am sorry. you don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

the sincerity in his voice and the look in his eyes make something inside you shift. the frustration and resentment you felt start to melt away. 

“it’s okay,” you say quietly, offering him a small smile. “i understand how stressful it can be in your position.” 

sunghoon nods, looking relieved, and for the first time, the tension between you eases. the silence that follows isn’t awkward anymore; it’s almost comforting, like a weight has been lifted.

“thanks,” he mutters, almost too softly for you to hear.

it’s silent between you in the library. both of you processing the shared moment. you think you’re starting to see park sunghoon in a different light. one that you didn’t think he had. 

“so,” you say, making your tone deliberately brighter, “you must be having a really tough week if you’re sitting in the library with me and not finding a girl to bring home tonight after the game.” 

sunghoon looks up at you, his eyes widening slightly before he laughs—a genuine, warm sound that surprises you. it’s the first time you’ve heard him laugh, and it catches you off guard how much you like it. it’s not the cold, sarcastic laugh you’ve heard before. 

“is that what you think of me?” he asks, still chuckling, his mood noticeably lighter.

“oh, come on,” you tease, grinning. “you have a bit of a reputation, you know.”

sunghoon shakes his head, still smiling. “maybe i should work on changing that, then.”

“might not be a bad idea since just, everyone on campus knows about it,” you reply, playfully nudging his foot under the table.

sunghoon shrugs, “i don’t care what everyone else thinks of me,” his voice softer, “i only care what you think about me.”

you tilt your head to the side at his answer. his soft smile lingers on his face and with the way he’s looking at you now, you think that you’re seeing a side of park sunghoon that not everyone gets to see. you aren’t sure how to respond to him. you aren’t sure what he wants from you. 

“anyways,” sunghoon shakes his head at your lack of answer, “how about i walk you to class?” 

you nod with a smile, still partially processing his words, “sure!” 

you start to gather your things, ready to leave the library with him. you sling your bag over your shoulder, something slips out and lands on the floor by sunghoon’s feet. sunghoon’s gaze drops to the ground, and his expression freezes when he sees what it is.

the picture of him and heeseung—the one you stole from heeseung’s room—stares up at both of you from the floor.

his previously soft, almost content expression hardens in an instant. his eyes darken with a mix of anger and confusion. he bends down, snatching the picture off the ground before you can react.

“where did you get this?” his voice is low, but there’s an edge to it that makes your stomach twist.

you swallow, trying to keep your voice steady as you admit, “uh, heeseung’s bedroom…”

sunghoon’s expression shifts from confusion to something sharper, more painful. his eyes narrow into slits, “you fucked heeseung?”

the volume of his voice rises with each word, drawing the attention of the students around you. the quiet library becomes suddenly too loud with the whispers and curious stares directed your way. you feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you snatch the picture out of his hand, your frustration boiling over. why would he automatically assume that you had sex with heeseung anyways? 

“why do you care who i get intimate with?” you shoot back, your own voice louder than you intended. “why do you only care what i think of you?”

sunghoon’s jaw clenches, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “i don’t!” he snaps, but the way his voice wavers makes you doubt him.

“then what is it?”

for a moment, he looks like he’s about to say something—something important, something real—but then he shakes his head, the anger in his eyes cooling to something else.

“nothing, just nothing, y/n.” his voice is quieter now, more defeated. “have fun with your investigation.”

he turns on his heel and storms out of the library, leaving you standing there, alone with the picture clutched in your hand and the weight of everyone’s eyes on you.

your heart races, but all you can think about is the look on sunghoon’s face right before he left—how hurt he looked, how quickly his mood changed the moment he saw the picture. 

part of you wants to chase after him, to demand answers, to figure out why he cares so much, but the other part of you just wants to get out of there, away from all the curious stares.

you take a deep breath, shoving the picture back into your bag before grabbing your things and hurrying out of the library. your mind is full of sunghoon’s sweet laugh and heeseung’s charming smile.

you toss and turn all night, your mind racing with thoughts of sunghoon and heeseung. no matter how hard you try, you can’t shake the image of sunghoon’s hurt and angry face from your mind. it’s a look you never thought you would see on his usual cool and collected face. it clings to you, gnawing at your conscience. you wonder if you liked it more when sunghoon didn’t show any feelings towards you at all and remained as cold and mysterious as ever. 

you start thinking about heeseung, too—how sweet he was, how he took care of you after, how you felt safe in his arms. but then your thoughts twist, imagining the look on his face if he ever found out you stole that picture from his room. how betrayed he’d feel, how that charming smile of his would disappear.

you sigh, sitting up in bed as the weight of your actions presses down on your chest. the more you think about it, the more you realize you can’t just let this go. you have to do something, anything, to make this right.

so you swing your legs over the side of the bed and grab the picture from your bag. 

you know the one place lee heeseung would be at this early in the morning; the baseball diamond. 

you slip on a hoodie and some sneakers, not bothering to change out of your pajamas and head out into the cool, early morning. the air is crisp, a sharp contrast to the warmth of your bed. 

when you finally reach the baseball diamond, you see heeseung’s figure against the light sky. you hesitate for a moment before stepping closer, clutching the picture in your hand. you start to rethink your actions and the words you practiced to say to him over and over again.

“y/n?” his voice suddenly calls out to you from across the field.

you glance up at him, and force a smile on your face and start to approach him. “hey,”

“hi,” he gleams at you, happy as ever. “what’re you doing here? it’s so early.” 

you shrug and look down at your shoes, slightly soaked from the morning dew. 

“y/n?” heeseung questions you, his hand reaching down to lift your chin back up so you’re looking at him. his face is contorted into concern. “what’s wrong?” 

you sigh and know that lee heeseung can read you like a book. so you take the picture from behind your back and give it to him without a word. 

you can tell by his face that he’s confused. the way he gently takes the picture and looks at it. 

“how… did you get this?” 

you bite your lip at the question you had hoped he wouldn’t have asked, but reluctantly tell him the truth. 

“from your room, when you were in the bathroom.” 

heeseung only nods, his eyes still stuck on the picture before him. so you continue with your apology. 

“i’m so sorry heeseung, i know it was wrong of me. i felt guilty as soon as i took it. i just– i get so caught up in reporting sometimes that i don’t think of the people that i’m reporting ons feelings. so, i’m sorry.” 

heeseung smiles again, and it surprises you, really. you thought he would react similar to how sunghoon reacted when he saw the picture. but then again, you know how different sunghoon and heeseung are. polar opposites. 

“it’s alright y/n.” heeseung nods, and you let out a sigh. “thanks for telling me the truth, i appreciate it.” 

“no, of course. it was wrong of me to take it without your permission.” 

“it’s okay, i guess i didn’t realize how important this investigation was to you.” 

suddenly there’s a scoff from behind you, causing both you and heeseung to glance back in surprise. 

there, stands park sunghoon. his face is held in an annoyed glare as he looks at the small distance that you and heeseung are standing at. 

“i guess you didn’t realize how important the investigation was to y/n.” sunghoon chuckles, “but i did. i knew it when she sucked me off to get information.” 

your jaw drops at sunghoon’s admission. you can’t believe he would say this in front of heeseung. 

you hesitantly turn to look at heeseung, who’s poor face is contorted into confusion as he glances between you and sunghoon, his rival. 

“is that true, y/n?” heeseung asks you, his voice softer and less cruel sounding than sunghoon’s. 

you can barely look at him, but you nod, silently. you feel ashamed for playing both of them, wanting to keep it a secret from one another that you had hooked up with both of them. 

you feel like you can’t be angry at anyone but yourself. 

heeseung brushes a hand through his hair, stressed. you think he’s going to cuss you out, but instead, he turns and looks at sunghoon. 

“why’re you here anyways, sunghoon? you never step foot onto the field.” heeseung’s voice is angrier now. 

sunghoon steps forward, his shoes brushing against the aggregate. “i came to let you know that even if you’re hooking up with y/n– that,” sunghoon hesitates as he looks at you,”that, i like her too, so.” 

your eyes widen in shock at sunghoon’s words. you never would have thought that park sunghoon would have liked you. you start to question all of his previous intentions with you. you had thought he hated you, but really, he had liked you? 

heeseung on the other hand groans, his body is unable to stay still as he steps around in disbelief. he angrily turns to sunghoon, “god this is so like you, sunghoon!” 

“what the fuck does that mean?” sunghoon barks back. 

“you always want what you can’t have sunghoon. you see something good and suddenly you want it too.” 

sunghoon’s jaw clenches and he steps forward too so him and heeseung are only a few inches apart. “are you forgetting that y/n hooked up with me first? god, this is so like you, hee.” 

you’re standing right in the middle of them, scared for both of them. upset at yourself for making them this angry at each other. 

heeseung chuckles, “yeah? and what am i like then?”

“you always have to make everything about you! lee heeseung, the golden boy, has to be the centre of attention all the time!” 

heeseung seems like he can’t believe what he’s hearing, “what the fuck are you talking about?” 

“you’re making this about you when it has nothing to do with you! this only involves me and y/n.” 

heeseung turns to you, his expression softening slightly as he meets your eyes. “y/n, do you really want to get caught up in this? in whatever the hell sunghoon is trying to pull?”

sunghoon steps forward, his voice lowering but still laced with tension. “y/n, i know i haven’t been the best to you, but i’m being honest now. i like you, and i didn’t know how to deal with my feelings for you before.” 

you swallow hard, feeling the weight of their gazes on you. this is too much, too fast. you’re not even sure how you feel about sunghoon’s confession, or how this affects whatever’s going on with heeseung.

“i… i don’t know what to say,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

sunghoon looks at you with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. “just tell me if you feel anything for me, y/n. because if you do, then maybe we can figure this out.”

heeseung crosses his arms, his expression guarded as he waits for your response. “and what about me, y/n? where do i fit into this?”

you feel like you’re being torn in two different directions. the two boys in front of you are completely different, but you feel an attraction to both of them whether you like it or not. you don’t know which direction would be best for you and it wouldn’t hurt the other. 

“i… i need time to think,” you finally say, your voice trembling. “this is all just… a lot.”

sunghoon’s shoulders slump slightly, but he nods, understanding. “okay. take your time, y/n. but just know that i’m serious about this.”

heeseung looks at you for a long moment before sighing. “yeah, take your time. we’ll figure this out.”

the silence that follows is thick with unspoken emotions, and you feel the need to get away, to clear your head. you turn and start to walk away, leaving the two of them on the baseball diamond alone. 

as you walk, you can’t help but feel the weight of their confessions pressing down on you.

god, you hated sports.

soon, heeseung starts to offer you drives home after school. his voice is always soft and considerate. it makes your heart warm. the car rides are always sweet and genuine and you find yourself reveling in how kind lee heeseung is.

he never rushes you out of the car when he pulls up to your place; instead, he walks you to your door, making sure you get inside safely. before you step inside, he leans in and kisses your cheek, his lips brushing against your skin in a way that sends a gentle warmth through you. it’s a sweet, lingering moment, and you can’t help but smile as you say goodnight.

when you walk into school in an early morning, goosebumps leveled on your skin from the fall breeze, you run into sunghoon who has his skates slung over his shoulder as he heads to the hockey rink. 

without a word, he slips off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. it’s a bit oversized on you, the warmth of it immediately comforting against the chill that has consumed your body. you instantly recognize his jacket as his hockey one– with his number embroidered on the back. he skims past you once he’s happy with the way it sits on your shoulder and leaves you in the hall. 

as you walk down the hall, sunghoon’s jacket still wrapped around you, you feel eyes on you, whispers following in your wake. even jake catches your eye from across the hall, his expression concerned when he realizes whose jacket you’re wearing. you find yourself holding onto the sleeves of his jacket, keeping the warmth and sunghoon’s cologne tight against your skin. 

heeseung always seems to know when you’re struggling with homework. he shows up when you least expect it and slides into the seat beside you, ready to help you with whatever you’re struggling with. he places his neatly organized notes on the table in front of you. 

“here, these might help.” he says, his tone casual, but there’s that familiar warmth in his eyes that makes your chest tighten. he doesn’t mind taking the next hour walking you through the material, even though he’s late for his next class. 

when you forgot your money on your kitchen table for lunch, you sit alone in the cafeteria, trying to distract yourself from the hunger rumbling in your stomach as you focus on your homework. a sandwich suddenly appears beside your book. you glance up and see sunghoon, a small smile playing on his lips. 

“you need to eat,” he says, his voice soft but firm. it’s a simple gesture, but it means the world to you in that moment, you really were so hungry. 

when you take a bite, he smiles and heads back over to the table he was previously sitting at with his friends, he doesn’t stop glancing over at you to make sure you’ve eaten the whole thing until you’re throwing the empty wrapper into the trash can. 

both heeseung and sunghoon are trying to prove themselves to you. competing for your attention. each of their gestures gets a little sweeter than the last. you’re caught between them and you’re unsure of what you should do. 

when you’re sitting in the journalism office, staring at your computer screen, the blinking cursor mocking you as you try to piece together your next report. your thoughts are a jumbled mess. the office is quiet, which should be good for you to think, but it’s not for your loud mind that won’t stop racing about one million things. 

suddenly, there’s a noise at the door, followed by grunting and muffled yelling. you glance up, confused, just in time to see the door burst open and both sunghoon and heeseung stumble into the office, each carrying two drinks. they’re both shoving at each other, jostling for space as they try to make it inside.

“stop! what’re you doing? they’re gonna spill!” you shout, standing up from your desk, your heart racing as you watch them struggle.

they both freeze when they see you, eyes wide like two kids caught in the act. for a moment, the room is silent, and then they both start talking at once.

“i was just bringing you a drink because i know how hard you work,” heeseung says, holding up his drink like it’s a peace offering.

“no, i was bringing you a drink,” sunghoon interrupts, his tone competitive.

heeseung scoffs, “please, she likes peach, not strawberry.” he glances towards sunghoon’s drink. 

“what? you obviously don’t know her, she loves strawberry.” 

they start bickering, each one trying to convince each other that their drink is the one you’d prefer. you feel your head start to pound, their voices overlapping and filling the small office space with tension.

“enough!” you finally shout, cutting them off mid-argument. they both go quiet, staring at you with wide eyes. you take a deep breath, trying to calm the frustration bubbling up inside you.

“i appreciate the gestures, i really do,” you start, your voice softer now, but firm. “but i need time to sort out my feelings, and i can’t do that if you’re both around me all the time. it’s… it’s too much.”

they both look at you, guilt flickering across their faces. they exchange a glance, then nod, understanding in their eyes. “sorry,” they both mumble at the same time, looking down at the drinks in their hands.

without another word, they each set a drink on your desk, their earlier competition forgotten. heeseung gives you a small, apologetic smile, while sunghoon just nods, his expression more subdued. they turn and leave the office, the door clicking shut behind them.

you let out a long sigh, the tension slowly draining from your shoulders as the silence of the office envelops you once more. you look at the drinks on your desk, a bittersweet feeling settling in your chest.

you sit back down at your desk, staring at the unfinished report on your screen. your mind is a swirling mess of thoughts, caught between sunghoon, heeseung, and the weight of your investigation. you press your fingers to your temples, trying to push the stress away, but it lingers, heavy and suffocating.

what are you going to do?

it’s been a week since you’ve seen heeseung or sunghoon. the silence between you and them has been unnerving, like an itch you can’t scratch. your mind keeps replaying your last encounters, the tension, the unspoken words, the way things were left hanging in the air. you’ve thrown yourself into your work, trying to distract yourself, but even that hasn’t been going well.

your boss has noticed your distracted state. she’s been getting increasingly frustrated with your recent reports, her critiques growing harsher each day. she’s told you more than once to at least act like you’re interested in sports when you’re writing. but your heart isn’t in it, and she can tell. tonight, you’re staying late at the journalism office again, trying to push through the mental block that’s been holding you back.

you’re staring at your screen, your fingers hovering over the keyboard, when you hear footsteps approaching. you glance up to see blair walking over, her bag thrown over her shoulder, clearly ready to leave for the night.

“hey, this came for you,” she says, holding out an envelope.

you blink, caught off guard. “what is it?” you ask, reaching out to take it.

blair shrugs, a casual smile on her lips. “i don’t know. but don’t stay too late, okay? take care of yourself.”

you nod, offering her a small smile. “of course. have a good night.”

“you too,” she says before heading out the door, leaving you alone in the dimly lit office.

you look down at the envelope in your hands, your name scrawled on the front in neat handwriting. there’s no return address, no indication of who it’s from. curiosity piqued, you tear it open and pull out the folded sheet of paper inside.

as you unfold it, your eyes widen at the title printed at the top: the truth behind the rivalry of the baseball and hockey teams.

you quickly skim the note, your breath catching in your throat as you realize what you’re holding. the note is brief, but the implications are massive. and they’ve chosen to share it with you. at the bottom, the note is signed simply: anonymous.

you sit back in your chair, the paper trembling slightly in your hands. the weight of the situation hits you all at once. your mind races, torn between the thrill of a potential breakthrough in your investigation and the fear of what this could mean for you—and for sunghoon and heeseung.

you reach towards your keyboard, typing out the headline you’ve thought about since the beginning.

your boss let you go home early today, she’s extremely happy with your work finally. she said it was the best report they’ve had all year. the school was buzzing, everyone congratulating you on the story. your article has sold more copies than ever. 

but still, you feel a wave of guilt continuously wash through you. 

you barely had time to settle into the quiet of your apartment when a knock at the door pulled you out of your thoughts. your heart jumped in your chest, a sinking feeling settling in your stomach as you opened the door.

heeseung and sunghoon stood there, both looking pissed. 

“uh, come in?” you stammer, stepping aside to let them in. they walk in, tension radiating off them.

heeseung is the first to speak, his tone sharp. “you told y/n what happened?”

sunghoon’s jaw drops, his eyes wide in disbelief. “no, i didn’t. you told her what happened, didn’t you?”

“no i didn’t,” heeseung snaps back, his voice rising. “you’re lying like usual.”

the argument escalates quickly, their voices overlapping in heated accusations. you can feel the situation spiraling out of control, and you step in, raising your hands.

“guys, guys,” you say, trying to cut through the chaos. “neither of you told me, alright.”

they both stop, turning to you with matching expressions of confusion. heeseung’s eyes narrow slightly as he processes your words. “then who told you?” he asks.

you shrug, feeling a bit uneasy under their intense gazes. “i got an anonymous tip.”

“a what?” sunghoon repeats, his voice laced with suspicion.

“i got a letter,” you explain, pulling the envelope out of your bag and holding it up. “signed by anonymous.”

heeseung’s expression darkens. “let me see this letter,” he demands, holding out his hand.

you hand it over, watching as they both lean in to read it together. the room is thick with tension, their silence as they read almost unbearable.

when they finish, you speak up, your voice cutting through the heavy silence. “is it true? sunghoon, you slept with heeseung’s girlfriend in high school?”

sunghoon’s mouth opens in a protest, his voice ringing out, “no,” at the exact moment that heeseung says, “yes.”

the word hangs in the air between them, their conflicting answers sparking another round of glares and tension. they turn on each other again, the hostility simmering just below the surface, ready to erupt.

“are you seriously going to lie about this, sunghoon?” heeseung says, his tone icy.

sunghoon glares back, his voice filled with frustration. “i’m not lying. it wasn’t like that, and you know it.”

“then what was it like?” heeseung fires back, his anger barely contained.

“maia told me you were on a break!” sunghoon shouts with anger. 

“well we weren’t!” 

“well how’s that my fault?” 

you watch them, feeling the situation spiraling again. their voices are rising, the tension thickening with each passing second.

you step between them, your hands up as if that could physically separate their anger. “enough, both of you,” you say firmly. “this isn’t getting us anywhere.”

they stop, their chests heaving with the effort of holding back their tempers. the room falls into a tense silence as they both look at you. 

“can you guys speak calmly, and listen to the other?” you ask them seriously, tired of them yelling all the time. 

heeseung is the first to speak again, “i don’t know why maia would tell you we were on a break, but it still doesn’t fix the fact that you were my best friend and slept with my girlfriend.”

sunghoon’s face twists in frustration, his voice pleading as he responds, “i know, i know, but i wouldn’t have done it if she wasn’t so upset. she told me you were on a break! she said she needed someone, and then all of a sudden, it just… happened. and we were done, and she left!”

heeseung covers his eyes with his hands, the weight of the memory clearly bearing down on him. “that’s not what maia told me, hoon.”

sunghoon’s brows knit together, his tone desperate. “what did she say?”

heeseung’s anger flares, his voice rising as he pulls his hands away to glare at sunghoon. “i don’t know, just that you told her to come over, and then it happened.”

sunghoon scoffs, shaking his head. “i told her to come over because she called me crying, saying how she messed things up with you and her! i didn’t tell her to come over so i could hook up with her!”

the room falls into a heavy silence as the words sink in. heeseung looks like he’s processing everything, trying to fit together the pieces of a puzzle that’s been broken for years. finally, he sinks down onto your couch, the weight of the situation pulling him down.

sunghoon hesitates for a moment before sitting down next to him. his voice is softer now, laced with a deep regret. “hee, you were my best friend. i would never do that to you. she told me you were on a break, and she was upset! i’m sorry that it happened, i really am. if i could go back and change what i did, i would, i really would.”

heeseung nods slowly, his anger ebbing away as he looks over at sunghoon. “alright, i’m sorry for not hearing you out earlier.”

sunghoon lets out a chuckle, the sound laced with a bittersweet edge. “yeah, you’re like, 4 years too late.”

heeseung laughs, the sound breaking through the tension like a breath of fresh air. it’s a small moment of reconciliation for the two of them.

you clear your throat, drawing their attention back to you. “well, now that that’s sorted out… i’m sorry for posting the report, i am.”

heeseung waves it off, a small smile on his lips. “no, it’s fine. you got us to speak instead of fight for once.”

sunghoon nods in agreement. “yeah, but who was the anonymous tipster?”

the three of you exchange glances, all shrugging as the question hangs in the air. none of you have a clue who it could be.

sunghoon clears his throat, the serious expression on his face returning as he looks at you. “i just… i hope that what you found out in the report doesn’t change your feelings for me. i want you to know that i never meant to hurt heeseung, and i truly thought they were on a break.”

you meet his gaze, searching for any hint of dishonesty. but all you see is a mix of vulnerability and hope in his eyes. after a moment, you nod slowly. “it doesn’t change my feelings, sunghoon. if you’re telling the truth, and you really thought they were on a break… then i believe you.”

a small, relieved smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and you can feel the tension between the three of you start to ease.

but then heeseung, still seated on the other end of the couch, shifts slightly, drawing your attention back to him. “so… have you made up your mind about who you’re going to choose?”

your breath catches in your throat as you look between the two of them. the question you’ve been avoiding is suddenly right in front of you, and you realize that you’ve been dreading this moment. your heart races as you shake your head, a quiet “no” escaping your lips.

sunghoon leans back, a contemplative look on his face. “well, then,” he starts, his voice carrying a hint of playfulness that makes you raise an eyebrow. “how about we help you with your decision?” 

heeseung glances at him, “what do you mean?” 

sunghoon grins, and you can’t help but feel a little nervous at the mischievous glint in his eyes. “i think we should both get a chance to prove to her that we are the right one for her,” he explains. “so, whoever makes y/n feel the best wins her.”

“how so?” you ask, trying to process what he’s saying.

“easy,” sunghoon shrugs, “we both get to fuck you.” 

heeseung seems to mull it over for a second, before a smirk spreads across his face, “i’m game if y/n is.” 

you blink, your mind racing as you try to process what’s happening. of course they are turning it into a competition, that’s all they know. 

the idea seems ridiculous, but at the same time, it intrigues you. 

before you can fully think it through, you hear yourself saying, “okay.”

the boys quickly shift on the couch, making room for you to sit between them. you move to sit down, your heart pounding in your chest as the reality of what you’ve just agreed to starts to sink in.

as you settle into the space between them, you can feel the tension building again, but this time it’s charged with a different kind of energy. sunghoon is on one side of you, his hand resting lightly on your knee, while heeseung is on the other, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

“are you sure, y/n?” heeseung asks you, as sweet as always. 

you bite your lip, “i am, but are you sure you both want to do this? i don’t want things to get weird between us all.” 

“don’t worry about y/n, me and hee both know that whatever you decide will be fair. we both just want to make you feel really good.” sunghoon speaks into your ear, his body warm against your side. 

you can't help but feel a surge of desire at their words. seeing the two of them so determined and eager to bring you pleasure has your body buzzing with excitement. "okay," you agree, your voice a little hoarse. "let's do this."

your breath quickening as Heeseung presses a soft kiss to your neck, his lips gentle and sensual. sunghoon's hands begin to roam over your body, sliding up your thighs and under your shirt, his touch electric. heeseung's hands join his, exploring your body with a mix of tenderness and hunger. their touches are different yet equally captivating—sunghoon's bold and demanding, heeseung's gentle and seeking.

you moan softly as their fingers trace patterns on your skin, igniting fires everywhere they touch. they take their time, exploring every inch of your body, drawing out your pleasure until you're a quivering mess between them. "you like that, don't you, baby?" sunghoon whispers, his lips brushing your ear. "you like being touched by both of us."

"yes," you breathe, your voice husky with need. "feels so good."

heeseung chuckles, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. "and we're just getting started, baby."

they continue their assault on your senses, mouths and hands working in sync to tease you. their fingers tangle in your hair, grasp your hips, and stroke your thighs. you feel yourself falling deeper under their spell, your body surrendering to their expert touches.

"let's go to your bedroom," heeseung suggests, his voice thick with desire.

you nod wordlessly, unable to speak as sunghoon plants sloppy, harsh kisses along your jawline. they help you up from the couch, their strong arms steadying you as your legs feel like jelly.

in your bedroom, the pace intensifies. heeseung and sunghoon waste no time in stripping you of your clothes, their eyes dark with desire as they take in your naked body.

"so beautiful," heeseung whispers, tracing a finger down your arm, sending goosebumps across your skin.

sunghoon's eyes shine with a mischievous glint. "you’re so sexy, can’t wait to hear you begging for more.” 

you swallow, a thrill running through you at their bold words. they guide you to the bed, their hands never leaving your body, always exploring, touching, teasing.

sunghoon positions himself between your legs, his gaze locking with yours as he begins to kiss and nip at your inner thighs. heeseung moves to your side, his fingers tangling with yours as he brings your hand to his lips for a soft kiss. "we're going to take such good care of you," he murmurs, his breath washing over your sensitive skin.

you feel sunghoon's breath fan over your core, his tongue flicking out to taste you. a gasp escapes your lips as he laps at your folds, his tongue confident and skilled. heeseung's fingers thread through yours as you experience wave after wave of pleasure, his thumb stroking your palm in time with sunghoon's tongue.

"he's good, isn't he?" heeseung whispers, his voice full of satisfaction as he watches your face contort with pleasure. "but I plan on being even better."

sunghoon chuckles against your sensitive flesh, sending vibrations through your body. he looks up at you, his eyes full of promise, before dipping his head to continue sucking on your clit. 

the feeling of sunghoon's tongue on your clit, coupled with heeseung's gentle caresses, is overwhelming. you feel yourself spiraling toward the edge, your body tightening like a coil. "hh god," you breathe, your hips bucking involuntarily. you weren’t use to having so much attention on you. it sent you to the edge so quickly. 

heeseung's fingers tighten around yours as sunghoon sucks your clit into his mouth, his tongue swirling relentlessly. "come for us, baby," he urges, his voice husky. "let us know how good we make you feel."

you cry out, your body arching off the bed as you climax, waves of pleasure rippling through you. sunghoon rides out your orgasm, his tongue relentless until you're left boneless and breathless.

as you come back down to earth, heeseung's lips find yours, kissing you deeply as his hand strokes your cheek. 

"your turn.” sunghoon signals to heeseung, his voice laced with challenge. 

heeseung shoots him a determined look as he moves over your body, his hands exploring your skin. his eyes are full of heat as he looks down at you. 

sunghoon slips away, leaving you on the bed with heeseung, who takes his time exploring your body with his hands and mouth. he’s so caring and gentle, different to how dominant and rough sunghoon is. 

heeseung strokes your clit until your a writhing mess beneath him, your body crying out for more. “please”, you beg, “i need your cock.” 

heeseung smiles, “i know, baby, i know.” 

he aligns himself with your entrance, teasing you with slow, shallow thrusts that have you crying out with each movement. "tell me how good it feels," he demands, his voice thick with desire.

"feels so good," you whimper, your fingers digging into his back. "please, more."

sunghoon, who has been watching from the sidelines, moves closer, his lips brushing your ear. "you like his cock inside you, don't you?" he murmurs, his fingers trailing down your body to toy with your nipples. "you like being stretched around his thick cock."

Your words are incoherent as heeseung begins to pound into you, his hips snapping against yours as he finds a relentless rhythm. sunghoon’s hands and mouth continue to touch you and whisper dirty nothings into your ear. 

“that’s it, take his cock like the slut i know you are,” sunghoon urges, his voice in your ear driving you closer to the edge, “take it all.” 

you cry out as heeseung’s thrusts become harder, deeper, your body meeting him with each thrust. the pleasure builds within you again, an ache that begs to be satisfied.

sunghoon’s lips find yours, kissing you deeply as his hand slips between your bodies to rub your clit in time with heeseung’s thrusts.  "come for us again, slut" he commands, his voice firm. "let go."

“god, please cum, baby– wanna feel your walls tighten like a good girl.” heeseung moans out to you. his eyes are set on where his cock is meeting your pussy. 

your hands grip tighter around heeseung’s arm as you shatter around his cock, crying out his name as your body convulses with pleasure. sunghoon doesn’t stop his fingers from working on your clit, extending your orgasm until you’re sobbing and shaking and heeseung is cumming inside of you. he fills you to the brim with his warm cum, the feeling makes you whine out. 

as your orgasm subsides, heeseung slows his movements, his breath ragged as he pulls out of you. sunghoon moves in, his eyes dark with desire as he positions himself at your entrance.

"my turn," he growls, his voice thick with need.

you hardly have time to register what's happening before sunghoon fills you with one swift thrust, making you cry out at the sudden fullness. he buries himself to the hilt, his eyes closing briefly as a shudder of pleasure racks his body.

"fuck, you feel so good," he groans, his hips snapping as he begins to move within you. "so tight and wet."

heeseung moves to your side, his hands caressing your body as he watches sunghoon fuck you. "she does, doesn't she?" he agrees, his voice satisfied. “such a good girl for us.” 

before you can process his words, heeseung leans in, his lips capturing yours in a hungry kiss. his tongue tangles with yours as sunghoon continues his relentless pace, your bodies moving in sync.

you're overwhelmed by sensations, sunghoon's cock driving you wild, heeseung's lips demanding and insistent. their touches are everywhere, driving you closer and closer to the edge. "oh god," you moan, your body tingling with overstimulating pleasure. "i—"

"come for me," sunghoon commands, his voice a deep rumble. "i want to feel you fall apart around my cock."

his words are your undoing, your body surrendering to a powerful orgasm that has you crying out their names. sunghoon quickens his pace, chasing his own release as heeseung continues to kiss and touch you, driving you wild.

"so beautiful," heeseung murmurs, his lips brushing your ear.

sunghoon grunts, his body tensing as he finds his release, filling you with his warmth. he buries his face in your neck, his breath coming in sharp pants as he rides out his orgasm.

you feel spent and satisfied, your body still buzzing with the aftermath of your intense releases. your pussy is filled with both heeseung and sunghoon’s cum. your breath was ragged, your skin glistening with a sheen of sweat, and your heart was pounding in your chest. 

heeseung and sunghoon share a smirk that you don’t catch, their eyes still filled with desire as sunghoon pulls out of you. they both knew that they weren’t done with you yet. 

“why don’t we clean you up a bit?” heeseung suggests to you. 

sunghoon nodded in agreement, “yeah, we don’t want to waste a single drop of your juices, princess.”

you could only watch them as they spread your legs again, enough for both of them to fit in between. they wasted no time then, their eyes locking on your glistening, leaking pussy. they leaned in together, their tongues darting out to taste the mixture of your juices and their cum.

you gasped as their tongues flicked against your sensitive clit, sending shocks of pleasure throughout your body. they lapped at your pussy greedily, tasting each other's cum mixed with your essence. their tongues mixed together, swirling and twirling as they devoured you. 

"mmm, you taste so fucking good,"sunghoon moaned, his voice hoarse with desire. he nipped at your clit gently, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your veins.

heeseung hummed in agreement, his tongue delving deep into your hole, probing and exploring as he savored the flavor of your arousal. "so sweet.” he hummed. 

you whimpered as they licked your pussy. their tongues working in unison to bring you pleasure. their hands caressed your thighs, holding your legs open. 

"oh fuck, that's so good," you panted, your hands gripping the sheets tightly. “both of you eating me out.” 

heeseung chuckled, the vibrations of his laughter sending delightful sensations through your core.

sunghoon looked up at you, his eyes smoldering with desire. "tell us what you want, princess, and we’ll do it.”

you bit your lip, feeling bolder than you ever had before. "i want both of your tongues on my clit," you whispered, your voice thick with need. "please, make me cum all over your faces."

a growl escaped from heeseung's throat as he pulled sunghoon closer. "as you wish, baby."

together, they focused their attention on your clit, their tongues swirling and flicking in tandem. heeseung sucked your pearl into his mouth, his tongue working furiously while sunghoon lapped at your juices, coating your pussy with his saliva.

the sensation was indescribable. having two mouths, two tongues circling and sucking your pussy. you moaned loudly, your back arching off the bed as they pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

"that's it, baby, cum for us," heeseung urged, his hands squeezing your thighs. 

sunghoon added his fingers to the mix, thrusting them into your wetness as he curled them to hit that magical spot inside you. "cum for us, y/n.”

you shouted as the orgasm hit you. your body convulsed, your juices flowing freely as you rode out the intense waves of pleasure. heeseung and sunghoon continued to lick and suck, milking every last drop of your cum, savoring the taste of your release.

gradually, the intensity of your orgasm subsided, leaving you boneless and sated once more. heeseung and sunghoon looked up at you, their faces glistening with your essence, proud smiles on their faces.

"that was fucking incredible," you breathed, your voice husky and filled with satisfaction.

heeseung and sunghoon laughed at your bewilderment, their mouths and lips covered in their own cum and your juices. 

after the intensity of what just happened, the three of you collapse into a warm, comfortable silence. the room is quiet, only the sound of your breathing and the faint rustling of sheets filling the space. sunghoon is the first to move, his touch gentle as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his eyes soft as he watches you. heeseung shifts beside you, his hand sliding over your back in slow, soothing circles.

“you okay?” heeseung murmurs, his voice low and filled with concern.

you nod, feeling a strange sense of peace settle over you as they both take care of you in their own ways. sunghoon leaves and returns to hand you a glass of water, making sure you drink, while heeseung pulls a blanket over your body, tucking you in.

as you start to drift off, you feel heeseung press a soft kiss to your temple, and sunghoon’s hand remains on your waist, grounding you. you close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the comfort of their presence, and before you know it, you’re asleep.

when you wake up, the room is dimly lit, the soft glow of the evening filtering through the curtains. you blink a few times, disoriented, before realizing that you’re dressed in an oversized hockey jersey and a pair of shorts that don’t belong to you. the jersey smells faintly of sunghoon, and you can’t help but smile at the thought of him dressing you while you were asleep.

you get out of bed, stretching a little before heading out to the living room. as you step into the room, you’re greeted by the sight of heeseung and sunghoon sitting on the couch, a bowl of cereal in each of their hands. they’re watching a movie, the light from the screen casting a soft glow over their faces, and you’re struck by how at ease they seem with each other.

heeseung is the first to notice you, his face lighting up with a smile. “hey, sleepyhead,” he says, patting the spot next to him on the couch. “come sit with us.”

you walk over, still trying to wrap your head around the sight in front of you. it’s almost surreal, seeing the two of them together like this, so relaxed and comfortable in each other’s company. it’s a far cry from the tension and anger that had been simmering between them just a short while ago.

“what are you guys watching?” you ask as you settle between them, your legs tucked under you.

“our favorite movie from high school,” sunghoon explains, his eyes still glued to the screen. “we used to watch it all the time.”

heeseung grins, nudging your shoulder playfully. “yeah, we probably watched it a hundred times back then.”

you can’t help but smile at them. it makes you feel lighter, the weight of the past few weeks slowly lifting from your shoulders.

as the movie plays, heeseung holds out his bowl of cereal, offering you a bite. you take it, savoring the simple gesture of sharing, and it feels like everything is falling into place. 

there's a sudden knock on your door, startling you out of your thoughts. sunghoon, who had been lounging next to you, looks up and asks, "who is it?"

you shrug, getting up to answer the door. "i don’t know, i’m not expecting anyone."

when you open the door, you’re surprised to see jake standing there, holding a box of green tea. "oh, hi jake. what are you doing here?"

jake gives a small, awkward smile. "well, i know you might've been feeling down about writing the story on heeseung and sunghoon since you've been close to them recently. so, i brought you some green tea to make you feel better."

you smile, touched by the gesture, and start to close the door, but then heeseung and sunghoon come up behind you. their eyes widen when they see jake.

heeseung, his voice edged with confusion, asks, "jake? why’d you come here?"

jake stammers, looking caught off guard. "hh, I just... wanted to check in on y/n. make sure everything’s okay since the anonymous tip."

“right,” heeseung nods, you can tell he’s suspicious about something, “you saw her article right? i mean, you were there with us in highschool when it all happened.” 

suddenly it clicks in your head about what heeseung is trying to figure out. jake only nods slowly, a small smile on his face. 

“yeah and i mean, if me and heeseung didn’t tell anyone about what happened in high school, then who do you think would have given y/n an anonymous tip, jake?” 

jake gulps, “i- i don’t know, guys.” 

“how’d you know i got an anonymous tip anyways? the only ones who knew about it were heeseung and sunghoon.”

at that, jake suddenly sighs, his shoulders sinking down, “fine, it was me who tipped you off.” 

heeseung’s face darkens, his voice filled with hurt and confusion, “you tipped her off? why, jake?” 

jake takes a deep breath, trying to explain. "because I admire you, heeseung. you’re like a brother to me. and sunghoon, he used to be my best friend too. i thought maybe if the truth came out, you two could finally move on."

you, heeseung and sunghoon try to process jake’s admission. 

jake lowers his gaze, the weight of his actions sinking in, "i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to hurt anyone. i just wanted to help fix things."

as the room settles into an uneasy silence after jake’s apology, heeseung finally breaks it with a soft, reassuring tone. “it’s okay, jake. we all needed to hear the truth.”

sunghoon nods in agreement, a hint of a smile returning to his face. “yeah, you were my best friend too. i’ve missed hanging out with you and heeseung.”

heeseung’s expression softens as he adds, “let’s start fresh, guys. this has gone on way too long.”

jake looks up, relieved to see their smiles, “yeah, well, it wouldn’t have been fixed without y/n. she’s the one who wrote the great report.”

you blush slightly, feeling a mix of pride and relief. “it’s no problem, guys. it’s all i ever wanted.”

with the mood lifting, you look at jake, sunghoon, and heeseung and suggest, “why don’t we all hang out? you’re here now, so let’s drink some green tea together and watch the movie.”

they all nod and you all sit down together, sipping tea and enjoying the movie they all used to watch together.  

the end of your investigation was one that you didn’t expect, but it was a happy one to say the least. you think that this is the end of your sports journalism career– you’re ready to write more thrilling reports once you graduate. 

but still, there was still one more question that you had to answer: who would you pick out of lee heeseung and park sunghoon? 

you’re lying in bed, heeseung’s arms draped comfortably across your stomach. his messy hair is sprawled across the pillow, a relaxed smile on his face as he sleeps. the warmth of his embrace is soothing, and you can’t help but feel content. heeseung has always brightened your day with his kindness and charming smile.

you don’t know what you’d do without him. 

then, sunghoon walks into your room, his pale, muscular chest on display. he hands you the daily newspaper with a gentle smile and quietly settles down beside you, careful not to wake heeseung. his presence is dominating and calming, and he leans over to press a soft kiss onto your forehead.

you glance at the newspaper’s headline: 

Ex-Sports Journalist Dates Two Captains

a quiet giggle escapes your lips, and just as you’re about to comment, heeseung stirs. 

“i wonder who that’s about,” he murmurs, still half-asleep.

sunghoon rolls his eyes playfully and says, “shut up, hee.” 

heeseung chuckles and replies, “gladly,” as he pulls both you and sunghoon into his arms.

the three of you collide together, making you and sunghoon squeal in surprise. the warmth of heeseung’s embrace and the closeness of your boyfriends together makes you relax, the headline long forgotten already. 

even though you can’t tell the difference between a homerun and a hat trick, you still managed to fall in love with both of the most popular athletes on campus. and, amidst the very long hockey and baseball lessons, and your hatred for sports, you’ve still managed to score a win in the game of love. the ultimate game changer. 

@ taeghi, 2024. do not repost or reuse in anyway.

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY, AS LIKES MAKE IT HARD FOR WORK TO BE SPREAD AND ENJOYED BY OTHERS :)

stay safe everyone :)

taglist : @criminalyun @jaehoonii @awqken @021894s @hollyoongs

@heeseungmyman @slut4hee @deobitifull @niniissus

@soobnuuy @suhwife @mitmit01 @woniebae

@lunesdesire @lunalovesstories @seokseokjinkim

@yawnzshit @yuriririnnie @shanb1n

@shiningnono @seuomo @skzenhalove @clampclover

@yunhoswrldddd @woorcve @esloao

@immelissaaa @kittympirty @norihoyeon

@sunwonsgf @gnvi-eve @camilleeedrz

@hoonbaby @jamaisunoo @heeseungismymanz

@jentlecoeur @aubaee @michellethekittycat

@sophiahatesspiders @yunoyeol @skaterhoon @taerifin

@hoonsuniverse @naoiireii @notevenheretbh1

@bbvswqaavg @doublebunv @rbf-aceu @laurradoesloveu

@hveanlyanqelic @jaeyunwon @kimjkejyy

@lilizinho @vveebee @sunwonsgf

@llvrhee @chansloverr @seuliecore

@vernonburger @iluvikeu @mrsjang6

@onlyhees @mirramirra @cherry-park

@missychief1404 @jiawji @yongbokified

@aileeeeeeeeeeeee @minniejenseo @shjsnjkj

@ikeuwoniee @jayienn @tanisha2060

@kimjkejyy @jakeswsh @jiminie-08

@jenojammin

[murdockparker]

Of the Same Mind

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: A mutual distaste in a certain author—should he even have the grace to be called that—leads to an unexpected meeting.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: mentions of drinking/alcohol, pregnancy, fluff, time skip

A/N: a cute lil request! made me actually read a little Byron myself to get the gist! and it wasn't that terrible I'm so sorry to disappoint

Dull. 

Everything was dull. What was supposed to be the social event of the season was shortened due to poor weather—an outdoors event of sorts, it seemed, Benedict really didn’t pay his mother much attention when she explained the whole ordeal. Thus, half of the ton was crammed into Lord Whitehill’s home instead of his luscious grounds, all due to the pouring rain. Most conversation was boring, most of the ladies were whining about the rain, the men whining about their whining wives and daughters. 

At least the drinks were good. 

“…seriously think that fodder is worth your breath?”

Benedict’s ears perked up, focusing on a conversation that was decidedly not about the current weather. A breath of fresh air. 

“I-I did not mean to insult you, miss,” a young gentleman sputtered, his face rosy red. “I only meant to indulge you in poetry of the highest regard—” 

“If that was your intention, you would have chosen from a finer list of poets. Byron?” The lady nearly laughed out loud. “Byron is the bottom of the barrel, as it were, so your intention was ill-placed.”

“Byron is a well-regarded poet—”

“By who? Chamber pots?” 

Benedict nearly spat out his drink. The action alone brought the attention of the arguing couple to him—both sets of eyes trained on the tall Bridgerton at once. “Oh,” he fake coughed, “it seems the drink went down the wrong way, please, forgive me.”

The man—who Benedict now recognized as Lord Whitehill’s son—scoffed. “Bridgerton. You are well versed in the arts, are you not?”

Benedict nodded. “I dabble.”

“Would you please explain to Miss (Y/L/N) that Byron is a novel poet,” Mr. Whitehill asked, “and that she should be flattered I recited poetry for her, regardless of the poet?”

Miss (Y/L/N). So that was the lady’s name. 

“But that would be lying, Whitehill,” Benedict gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. “And I am ever a gentleman, raised to never lie, especially to a fine lady such as Miss (Y/L/N).”

She smiled at that. 

“You do not agree?”

“Oh I certainly agree with Miss (Y/L/N),” Benedict said quickly, setting his glass down. “Byron is a mockery to the art—meaningless words and jaunty titles, why, I tried to read his latest and it put me right to sleep.”

“I fear I had the same reaction,” Miss (Y/L/N) said, turning to Benedict in earnest. “Right before I decided to throw it to the flames.”

They both laughed.

“Imbeciles, the both of you,” Mr. Whitehill said, pushing past the newly acquainted pair. “Keep insulting me like that and I’ll have my father throw the both of you out into the storm.”

“Mr. Whitehill,” Miss (Y/L/N) said softly, her eyes melting into puddles of apology. “I fear we were not insulting you, but rather your taste in poets. I also fear there is a stark difference in that, for if I were to insult you, I’d make a more fitting jab, more educated in that regard.”

The shorter gentleman stormed off, steam nearly pouring from his ears. Benedict laughed.

“I must say, Miss (Y/L/N),” Benedict leaned down. “You have quite the sharp tongue.”

“I am known to be rather well spoken,” she beamed, standing a little straighter. “Perhaps it is my taste in literature?”

“For that, I believe we are in agreement,” Benedict said, grabbing a fresh glass from the table beside him. “May I offer the lady a beverage?”

“Only if you decide to share whatever’s in that pocket of yours,” she pointed to his chest. Benedict’s ears went pink. “Do not think I did not see you pour an added flavoring into the lemonade—it seems impolite that you would neglect to share.”

“It would be impolite,” Benedict said, carefully pulling his flask out of his coat. “I am surprised you saw that, though, given the crowded room.”

“You are a tall man, Mr. Bridgerton,” she said, taking the glass from his hand. Benedict poured a healthy amount of clear liquor into her cup before adding the rest to his own. “I would have found it hard to ignore you.”

“Your first season? I presume?”

“Technically,” she said, looking up into his blue eyes. “My family, we just moved to Mayfair. My father came into some money and relocated us here this year, my brother is set to study at Eton in the fall.”

“And you?”

“I am now expected to marry a rich and eligible bachelor,” she laughed into her glass. “Which I really have no problem doing, save for the fact that gentleman is nothing like Mr. Whitehill.”

“Mr. Whitehill is rather rich,” Benedict smirked. “Would that not placate you?”

“And listen to him dribble about Byron? Perish that thought,” she said. “When I do marry, I expect my husband to be of the same mind, a similar taste in the arts.”

“You know,” Benedict nearly whispered, “that is an admirable thought. But how will you find this man?”

She looked him up and down, quickly and all at once, returning to drink from her glass.

“I suppose I will know when I find him,” she smirked.

Benedict smiled back. “Well, please let me know when you do, I feel rather invested in your prospects.”

“You will be the first to know, I assure you,” Miss (Y/L/N) said, nodding her head. “But, if I may be so bold, if you are not currently preoccupied, would you care to further our discussion on Byron? It is hard to find someone who agrees with such a… contrasting opinion of the poet.”

“Why, Miss (Y/L/N),” Benedict finished his glass, offering his arm, “I was afraid you’d never ask.”

—

The gardens on the property were lovely, so lush and full of life. She made good on her promise to keep them well maintained, only keeping the finest blooms and plants in their care. It was always the perfect place to spend time on days like today, sunny, a gentle breeze. 

They had given the governess a day off, her mother had fallen ill, it was the least the Bridgertons could do for her.

“Mother!” 

The lady looked up from her book, eyes meeting with her eldest daughter. Blue eyes, just like her father.

“Yes, darling?”

“Might I go inside to grab other books? Aunt Eloise recently sent some to Father and I want to read them.”

The lady gave her daughter a trying look. “Do you not think they may be above your comprehension level, my love? They were intended for your father, after all.”

“No need,” a looming voice bellowed. “I have them right here.” 

She didn’t need to look up to know who it belonged to. “Benedict, I thought you were spending time in the studio this afternoon.”

“And miss spending time with my darling wife and children?” Benedict grinned, the crooked way she fell in love with. “That seems foolish on my part.”

“Father!” Their eldest exclaimed, running over to the tallest Bridgerton. “You brought the books?”

“Indeed,” Benedict nodded, handing the parcel off to his daughter. “Aunt Eloise thought we may have better use of these than her and Phillip do.”

Their daughter lit up with excitement—ever the reader, she was. It took a village to keep their library stocked with appropriate books for her age, but she was quickly out-reading her entire family’s collection. “Thank you, Father!”

“Well,” Benedict said modestly, “you must write to your Aunt Eloise and thank her, I had little to do with such a gift.”

“What about me, papa?” 

Their son, only a few years younger than their daughter came bounding up past his escaping sister, clearly having been playing in the mud. “Do I have any gifts from auntie?”

(Y/N) opened her arms. “Not this time, sweetheart, but come here, let mama wipe that dirt off of your nose—” 

“No!” He exclaimed, turning from his mother. “Dirt makes me ruggable—like Uncle Colin!”

“Rugged,” Benedict corrected gently. “And, no, dirt makes you dirty. You need to stop spending so much time with Colin…”

“Once baby brother is here I will,” their son nodded, putting both hands on his hips, looking down at his sitting mother.

“Oh darling,” (Y/N) said, trying to raise to her feet. Benedict quickly offered his hands, pulling her up. “Baby will not be here for a few more months.”

“Then more time with Uncle Colin!”

Benedict and (Y/N) sighed, watching their adventurous son run back to the mud. “We must write Colin, tell him of the monster he has created.”

“Our eldest is such an easygoing flower,” Benedict said, noting how she was carefully skimming through the various books on her lap. “Our son tests our patience.”

“And how do you think this one will be?” (Y/N) asked, placing his hand on her swelling stomach. She only had two or so more months until the delivery, if she had been correct on the conception. The latest Bridgerton wedding seemed to be the culprit, stolen kisses and a romantic rendezvous to the greenhouse away from the party—it was a perfect recipe for baby number three. “Calm and collected? Devilish and adventurous?”

“I pray they are just like their mother,” Benedict rubbed her belly affectionately. “And perhaps a bit more behaved than their brother… I suppose I should also write my mother an apology.”

“Whatever for?”

“I reckon my brothers and I acted much like our son,” Benedict said sheepishly. “Acting like Bridgerton boys, I am afraid.”

“As if that is the only explanation,” she giggled, leaning into his side. “But I am sure your mother would appreciate such a gesture. Perhaps you should send her a bouquet from our garden, too?”

“An excellent idea, my love,” Benedict said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “What a brilliant mind you have.”

“Father, Mother!” Their daughter called out, waving them towards her. “Aunt Eloise sent a book by an author I have never heard of before.”

“Oh?” Benedict quirked his brow, walking with his wife over to her. “And what author may that be?”

“A Lord Byron,” she said, showing the book with a deep brown cover to her parents. Benedict scooped the tome quickly from his daughter’s grasp, holding it close to his chest.

“And you shall never read such filth,” Benedict said seriously.

“Oh Benedict,” (Y/N) laughed. “Perhaps we should allow our daughter to expand her mind—come to her own conclusions on the matter? Surely Aunt Eloise meant the gift in kind.”

“Aunt Eloise clearly meant to send it as a cruel prank,” Benedict corrected.

“What is so wrong with that author, Father?”

“A shorter conversation would be what is not wrong with this author,” Benedict said, turning to call his son. The little boy ran over to his father’s side, ever eager. “Take this and bury it, preferably far away from here.” His wife could not stop her laughter, watching their son hurriedly run over to the new rose bushes, making good work at digging a deep enough hole for the book. “You,” Benedict pointed at the girl, “are forbidden to read anything written by that lowly man.”

“Oh Benedict,” (Y/N) admonished, trying hard to stop her laughter, “forbidding her from reading seems silly—”

“Are we not of the same mind on Byron?” Benedict asked. “I rather think that is how we met, is it not, dearest wife?”

She pursed her lips, fighting a smile. “We are.”

“Besides,” Benedict stood a little straighter, “the roses could use a bit more sustenance.”

She could only roll her eyes.

[notanactressyayy]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭. | natasha romanoff

. ݁₊ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 . Natasha and you were the only 'constant' in each other's lives. poor you, to think you could get over her so easily.

. ݁₊ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 . smut! i am not responsible for your content consumption! — making out, g!p Natasha, guided masturbation, orgasm denial, unprotected sex (p in v), choking, swearing, homesickness, fluff, reconciliation.

. ݁₊ 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠 . english isn't my first language (🇧🇷) so i apologize for any spelling errors. been in love w Nat for a damn long time — i've been away for a while, but turns out i can't really live without her. i miss my red so much :(

Natasha Romanoff rarely had the chance to see the same face twice. She saw a lot of people throughout her life — as a spy, as a superhero, or simply as Natasha. The thing is: it was unlike she would return to a place she’s been before. It wasn’t uncommon for her to be on the run. Thus, she traveled around the whole world, and saw thousands, millions of different faces. Destiny made sure not to let her cross paths with the same individual again. It wasn’t only the diversity of people that she witnessed, though. This woman saw the world. She knew life’s ups and downs, and at some point in her life, she just got used to the idea that it would forever be like this: boring. Boring experiences, boring women, boring men, boring relationships. Nothing was ever exciting, thrilling. It felt like she was advanced in time, and the rest of the world wasn’t following her. This wasn’t a complete lie, she got her maturity at a very young age, which made her pay the price now, in adulthood. 

For a spy, the most important thing is to learn not to be caught off guard. But it seemed like life was never on Natasha’s side. And this time — it felt good. Oh, it felt so good. 

At first, she didn’t want to get high hopes. It would be just another temporary friendship to help her pass time, nothing more. However, you managed to surprise the red haired Avenger in the best way possible. When she decided to spare a little time of her life and get to know you more, it was really mind-blowing the side of herself she discovered. She never thought she could actually be.. giddy. Like a silly, hopeless romantic girl. That is what she became whenever it was time to see you. She got excited. Actually excited. She couldn’t see through you, read your emotions or body language, like she did with other people; It was a natural thing, sometimes she didn’t even mean to do that. But you, something within you, kept her at bay. Like you effortlessly turned Natasha into a normal woman. Somebody who could love. Somebody that wasn’t raised and enhanced to be a killer. Not that you went through anything like she did, but you weren’t naive. You showed her that people didn’t necessarily have to be traumatized to be aware of things, of reality, of the surroundings. And for her, you’re the most beautiful person in the whole world. Inside and out. She adored you. 

Opening up was never easy. Revealing the broken parts of herself wasn’t like having a simple chat. But patience is a virtue and thankfully, you followed that say just fine. Little by little, the secrets came out. Most of the parts you already knew — it’s not like she wasn’t a worldwide known superhero. What you mostly had to acknowledge were her feelings, the point of view of the little girl who was experiencing it all, and becoming a strong woman, with built up walls around her heart. Doing that was no problem. Natasha couldn’t be more thankful. 

She couldn’t be more infatuated. More in love.

She’d always remember that one day: in the bar with her team, and you — chattery, music, tons of drinks and laughter. Stolen glances. Stomach butterflies, wild. The moment Clint pulled Laura a little closer to himself, and Tony kissed Pepper’s cheek. How she used that as an excuse to pull you into her lap. Your breath getting labored. Eyelashes gently fluttering, to the point she could count them. Your gentle yet tight grip on her shoulders. Your goddamn eyes staring right into hers. And the part where everything would change: her own bodily reactions to all those little details about you. When you restlessly shifted on her lap, quietly gasping when something poked you through your dress. Eyes going wide at the bulge showing on her black jeans. 

From that point on, you belonged to her.

Or so, she thought.

The sex was great, but she was in conflict — she couldn't tell if the only reason for it to be that enjoyable was because you were both tipsy, almost drunk, or if it was really meant to be that way. It felt right, yes, to have you in her arms like this — naked, piles of discarded clothes laying by her bed.. the sound of your quiet snoring as you cuddled into her. It was also a relief to her. To have someone care for her, desire her, after so long, after forever. The night had been amazing. She was a mature woman anyway, wasn't she? She could sort her feelings out without messing up everything.

Wrong. By the morning, everything would change.

You stared at her as she got up and got dressed again, eyes still a little blurry from sleep, eyebrows ceasing into a small confused frown. "You're not staying?" you'd ask, sitting up and leaning against the headboard, bringing up the sheets to cover your unclothed body. "Ugh, my head hurts like hell,"

"Got things to do." she simply answered, cradling the side of your face and kissing your forehead. You could swear the look on her face was.. apologetic. She tilted her head towards the nightstand, where some aspirin and water waited for you. "Take these. I'll text you later."

"Okay.." you mumble, disoriented. As she leaves, you reach out, shoving the aspirin in your mouth and downing the pills with water. Was there something you were missing? Because all you could remember was how good her hands felt on you, the way they wrapped around you neck while she—

You shook your head, lying down again, and closing her eyes. All the fun and pleasure you had been given from the previous night was slowly vanishing and being replaced by a feeling of uncertainty and confusion. Natasha was an enigmatic person, okay, but you thought you knew her better. She had no reason to leave you just like that, especially when she had already vented about all her past experiences, flaws and failures. Nah, it was probably nothing, you were overthinking. Perhaps she indeed had something important to take care of. You closed your eyes as fatigue took over, and slept for a little bit more.

Natasha went back to her apartment — one of her apartments, and for the whole day, her thoughts ran like crazy. Her emotions were all over the place. She had just fucked her best friend, the one person she felt comfortable and at ease with. She considered her feelings carefully; this.. dinamic, between you two, had not been platonic for a considerable amount of time. But not being platonic doens't necessarily means being romantic. It could either be love, or lust. What happened the day before was carnal, once the two of you were way too much in a drunken haze to actually feel anything.

And, like always, Natasha didn't want to think about falling in love. She felt scared just by thinking about this. It was a new territory, one she wasn't willing to deep dive in. So she took her phone and deeply sighed, opening her chat with you.

"Yesterday was fun. But I need some time. I don't think this can work. Hope you're doing okay. xx"

That text just completely shattered you.

You had no idea what you did wrong. It was not like Natasha was pushing you away forever — but while being with her, the only thought running through your mind was: I wanna be with her. I wanna explore this with her. And Natasha didn't give a single sign that she thought the opposite. You felt... disappointed. With yourself and her. For hoping.

Yeah, getting involved with an ex kgb Avenger killer spy probably wasn't the best idea.

You wouldn't simply forget everything you shared together, so the easiest way here not to create a big tension was.. being fake. The two of you weren't stupid, you were aware of the unspoken feelings going on. But what happened that night should not happen again. So your friendship was what prevailed. A friendship like the start. But obviously, with a few changes. Natasha and you didn't lose touch — on the contrary, you were closer than ever. You spoke and flirted (a lot), but with one small rule, a rule that you subconsciously added to this.. situationship. No feelings involved. It would be singularly that. Friends, some casual hookups, and nothing else.

It didn't last, because that's not what you both wished, longed for.

Little by little, this turned boring again. Not that you were the boring one and she just didn't realize this before. Far from that. The thing was: Natasha and you were supressing your feelings, consequently, supressing all the thrill, the delicious tension that hanged in the air whenever she, once again, crossed paths with you. The russian wanted nothing more than just grab you and kiss you hard, pour all the emotions that she kept bottled up throughout her life into the kiss. But unfortunately, she couldn't. She had a duty to fullfil, as someone born, destined to save the world.

And with all of this, you and her settled a distance. You with your previous and trivial life, and her, saving little girls from bad guys, and bringing down cats from tall trees. It was truly shocking: one day, you lived for Natasha Romanoff. She was your everything and everything you'd ever want. In a blink of an eye, it ended. You followed your paths, like two completely different people, with different purposes.

Right person, wrong time.

Fool her, to think she could get over you that easily. Poor you, to try and put that inside of your head as well.

Sometimes, when normally doing daily tasks, you would catch yourself thinking about her — when you were going to watch TV and put your legs on the coffee table, instead of simply sitting. It was an habit of hers. Or when eating something with peanut butter. It was her favourite late night snack. When it rained. She liked to watch the rain. With somebody else's hands on you. It wasn't right. It was never right to have somebody else touch you. You were constantly thinking about your life before things with her changed — the memories brought comfort, a sense of nostalgia.. at some point, you weren't living in the present anymore. Just faking. Faking your feelings. Pretending it was okay to let her go.

This woman ruined you for everything and everyone else.

Natasha could relate to that. In a life that could be resumed in one word: a 'whirlwind' of a life, and you were her only 'constant' among all of this... she couldn't bear this anymore.

So she made an important decision.

The decision was today.

Today: she'd take you out again, praying that, if not reconciliation, she wanted at least to say everything she had to say. Because if life taught her one thing, was to make choices that she wouldn't regret in the future. And it was damn right she would regret choosing not to meet you tonight.

Sitting in the stool of the bar, in a more secluded corned, her eyes followed your figure as you approached — purse hanging on your shoulder, dress exposing your back and a little bit of your waist, eyes so awfully soft and gentle as you looked at her. It wasn't fair. A pang of guilt hit her hard. Oh, she regretted letting that go. She wanted you to be mad at her. But you were not. She shakily rises to her feet to kiss your cheek as you stand in front of her, thankfully not stumbling. Your eyes lock again, already in a trance. Just like that other day.

"How are you doing?" you ask. Natasha could cry. She missed that voice everyday. "Did I take too long? I'm sorry."

"No, no. Don't worry." she swallows hard. You both sit on the stools by the countertop. When the bartender comes, the redhead dismisses him. She wanted the two of you sober for this. "I'm... so much better now that you're here, honestly. How about you?"

"Amazing." you chuckle, tilting your head to the side and watching her. She didn't change a bit. Hair braided, black jeans, leather jacket. That was your Natasha. "I didn't expect you calling me here, to be honest..—"

"Me neither." she admits, in a whisper. Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips, eyes involuntarily starting at your mouth. She sighs and looks into your eyes. "But I had to... I can't get you off my mind."

Her sincerity never fails to amaze you. With each second that passes, the butterflies in your tummy return, to remind you of the past — feelings and sensations resurfacing. You bite on your bottom lip and look around the bar, quickly scanning to see if there was anybody paying attention to the two of you. Maybe a few eyes here and there, which didn't linger. Everyone else was too busy minding their own business — and it's not like you'd care if someone was staring anyway. Natasha turned some heads. You felt greedy for that. You were the one having her. The only one having her.

"You live in my head rent free, Natasha." you tell her, voice having a sultry edge to it. You slowly stand, walking closer.

You take her hands and open her arms — making it possible for you to straddle her thigh. She tenses almost immediately. Her head tilts up to stare into your eyes, arms circling your waist to keep you close, where she wanted. You shake your head when you see a small frown between her eyebrows — lips pressing against that small spot, coaxing a little exhale of hers. She missed you. Everyday. Every minute. She wanted that respect and care all the time.

"What are we even doing here?" she whispers, so quietly you almost can't hear it. Her hands cup your waist and gently roam up and down your sides, palms brushing against your bare skin every now and then, all thanks to the waist slits of your dress. Your face leans closer to hers, noses bumping — the smallest of touches, making you both crave what you once had. "Why didn't I just invite you to my place right away?"

"I don't know. Why didn't you?" you raise one eyebrow, fingertips caressing her jawline. Her hands give your waist a squeeze — and you almost moan. She swore she could hear it. It replayed in her head, the beautiful sounds you made for her. She wanted to hear them again. She was going to make you sound like that again.

It wasn't just a physical thing — your body and mind craved her touch, her presence, so much that just the mere thought of being on her bed again got you soaked. She felt something wet through the rough fabric of her jeans, and that got her brain spinning. She fell for you hard. So painfully hard.

"Let's get out of here," she groans, hands firmly grabbing your thighs and lifting you up — wrapping your legs around her waist and carrying you out the pavement. Her hardness pressed right against your core — you blushed, hiding your face on her shoulder, wrapping your arms around her neck.

In a heartbeat, you were back at your house.

Your place, because it was the fastest way, when taking the cab. No words were exchanged, not yet. The aching, burning need had to be taken care of first — before properly talking. Your back hits the wall hard as Natasha pushes you against it — her body trapping you between herself and the hard surface — hands hardly, possessively holding you by the hips. Desperately, even. Making sure you wouldn't slip away from her grasp. Her lips dance with yours, tentatively, yet naturally, tongues tasting one another after what felt like centuries. She felt so good, tasted so good.

"Nat..—" you moan against her lips, having her bottom lip trapped between your teeth, then releasing it. Your forehead against hers, eyes soft and filled with desire. Your hands hold her cheeks, traveling to her jaw. Needily, you press kisses to the side of her throat, breathing shaky, heart hardly thrumming. "I never stopped thinking about you..."

"Yeah?" she hums, grabbing the hem of your dress and lifting it up, bunching the fabric by your hips. Her fingers hook around the elastic of your panties and pull them down, pooling around your feet — making you gasp, and pull away from her neck. Eyes wide open. The air hits your heat, making you needier for her.

You almost mewl.

"God, I need you." Natasha utters. She grabs you again and smashes her lips against yours once more, now with so much more passion, more need, more anxiety. Her bulge presses against your now unclothed wetness, coaxing a tiny cry of need out of you. You breathlessly pull away from her, reaching down and fumbling with the buttons of her jeans — until she stops you.

"No—"

"Quiet." she shushes, maneuvering you back, until your body hits the mattress. She climbs onto the bed and stays in a kneeling position, hungrily taking you in. Messy, needy, all for her. Sober, like she wanted planned from the first time. "That dress goes off."

Her voice is commanding, yet not harsh — and her eyes betray her a little. Her eyes are almost pleading, that it is clear how much she needs this. To have you all to herself, to show you how much she wants that. Her underwear becomes even more tight as she sees your trembling fingers, pulling the dress over your head and tossing it aside, lips parted. Just by her look, you can tell she wants the bra off, too. So you reach behind your back and grants her silent wish, breasts now exposed to her sight.

"There you are..." she moans to herself, shamelessly taking in the sight of you. You're a work of art. With her hand, she coaxes your knees open, and parts your legs. "My... you're so wet. So perfectly wet."

"You're still with a lot on.." you quietly complain, feeling hot and shy at the same time. But her gaze is enough to wipe away the confusion from your eyes. She had a plan.

"Touch yourself for me." she breathes out.

Your eyes briefly widen with the unexpectedness of this statement. You had certainly done this before — touched yourself thinking of her — but the idea of showing this, while she watched, never crossed your mind. But it wasn't an unpleasant idea. It was actually... hot. Sensual. They darken, pupils blown wide as you make yourself comfortable against the pillows, eyelids fluttering as your legs spread a little more, palm resting on your stomach, then moving down. Deliberately, it reaches your sex, a shakily sigh leaving your lips when your middle and ring finger collect some of the slick coat covering your sensitiveness, using it to slowly rub your clitoris, getting you to gasp louder.

"Natasha..." you whisper, eyes falling close, thoughts wandering.

Wandering back to the start — when you first discovered your feelings for her, then the climax, when you both got in bed due the alcohol — then the aftermath, when you needed her so much, felt so alone at night, that your fingers were the only solution. Little wet sounds echo within the room as you rub circles on yourself, applying just the right amount of pressure, that it doesn't take long for the pit in your stomach to manifest itself.

"Faster." Natasha rasps out, taking her jacket and quickly throwing it away. She pulls her tank top over her head, then undo the buttons of her jeans — leaving the bed, just so she can get rid of all the uncomfortable fabric, and climbing it again. She crawls closer to you — eyeing you as you worked on your pussy, her hands caressing your thighs, adding to the stimulation.

"Please...!" you whimper, doing as you're told — rubbing yourself faster — slipping one of your fingers inside your entrance, almost cumming, that quickly. "Please, I need you..!"

"I need you too," she moans to herself, and harshly grabs your wrist, pulling your hand away. You moan loudly in protest — Natasha wouldn't tease you. Not today, when you both needed each other so much. She discards her undergarments, finally — groaning as she's set free. Your eyes lock on her hard length, which was practically hitting her abs now.

"Put it inside me." you beg, grabbing her shoulders to pull her closer. She hovers over you, bracing herself on her forearms, on each side of your body. Your fingernails gently graze her back. Natasha was feeling so much, so much more than she ever felt. Your eyes were sparkling so much, like you were crying — shimmering with the depth of your adoration for her. You grab her cheeks and press your lips to hers, in a gentle peck. Knowing her past, she didn't have to explain her reasons for what had happened. She was scared before, and you respected. "Go on. Love me."

She couldn't wait no longer. She lowers her forehead to your shoulder and places her hands on your hips — her chest against yours, as she lined herself with your hole, effortlessly pushing inside. Stretching you out, like she once did. Having the chance to hear that delicious sounds again.

"You're mine... shit," she groans, rolling into you gently, getting you used to the feeling first. You're so tight, so perfect around her. Natasha's overwhelmed. Her hands press against the base of your throat, squeezing firmly, yet leaving enough room for air. She's so hot. "That pussy is mine. You're mine. You're all mine—"

"Yes," you moan, wrapping your legs around her middle. You wouldn't take long to come tonight. Maybe she'd make you come over and over. She rocks into you, pace not too slow, not too fast. Just right. The right tempo to bring you both the pleasure and connection you so much needed. "Mhm.. fuck, Nat, missed your cock,"

"You're gonna take it over and over—" she comments — kissing your shoulder, roaming her hands up your body, her right palm cupping your breast and giving it a firm squeeze. Your head lolls back, mouth opening to allow a satisfied moan out. "I'm never fucking letting you go again,"

She accelerates, pulling almost all the way out just to slam back into you again — feeling her climax approach. She moves her mouth close to your ear and moans — her own sounds now mixing with yours.

"Natasha...! Fuck, you feel soo good," you gasp, a wave of pleasure washing over you as you get closer. She takes the hint immediately, cupping the back of your knee and pushing it up, allowing her a better angle. "Ah, gimme more,"

"My greedy girl," she groans, her head tilting back. Her cock twitches inside of you — precum already painting you white. She glanced down at where your folds swallowed her, eyes darkening impossibly more. "You're so goddamn tight... 'm not gonna last, moya krasivaya malysha,"

"Okay.. 'ts okay... Cum with me..." you beg her, tangling your fingers into her red strands of hair, pulling her down more, so her forehead rests against yours — the eye contact increasing the intimacy of the moment. She didn't know what to expect now. Didn't know what to think. Only that she had to fill you up.

"C'mon.. nhg, darling.. c'mon.. cum around me," she encourages, feeling her own legs shake as her orgasm washed over her.

She grabbed your hips hard and slammed into you — once, twice, three times, filling you up with her hot release. You squeezed your eyes shut as your body shuddered forwards, breasts pressing against her own as a long, strangled moan flowed out of you, nails digging into her back, pressing her body against yours as you finished. Your walls clenched around her cock, swallowing her more, not allowing her to pull away just that. "God.. I love you!"

Natasha blinks, not sure if she heard right. Her heart squeezes in her chest, arms wrapping around your body. Her back hits the bed and she flips you on top of her, still inside of you — but now, her member softened. The adrenaline was running wild, but you had calmed down a little bit. Just a little. Because this time, it wasn't pure sex. It was lovemaking.

Your face is buried in her chest as she brings up the covers, creating a cocoon of warmth around you. She buries her face into your hair and inhales deeply, staying silent. Just to process things.

"I love you, too. So so much." she murmurs into you hair. She felt terrified to say this. But once you're someone who she already showed her scars to, it's not that bad anymore.

"You do?" you ask expectantly, feeling tired, drowsy. Natasha smiles at that. She feels her eyes burning with heavy emotion. She nods.

"Yes... I love you so much." she confirms, softly stroking her hair, brushing some strands away from your sweaty forehead. "And I want you to be mine. Will you be mine?"

"You're asking me to be your girlfriend after the sex?" you chuckle quietly, but happiness was evident in your voice. Now you could sleep at peace. The first night of rest you'd have in a long time. In the arms of the woman you cherished, worshipped.

Natasha had won now. She was so fucking relieved. All because of a phrase.

"Of course I will, you idiot."

"I'm never, ever, ever letting you go again." the room is messy, smell of sex lingering around you. But now things were sorted out. By the morning, you could have a more direct, serious conversation. For now, you'd rest together, wrapped up in each other's arms, like it was always meant to be.

[frostbitebakery]

for @ferretrade

.Hashmarks

“I’ve seen a few troopers commemorating their kills with those,” Aayla comments, pointing her stylus at his collarbone where his shirt has slipped down.

It’s absolutely sweltering on this planet whose name Bly is saving in his long term memory just to avoid it in the future. Breathing feels like swallowing water, sitting still has him sweating more profusely than the 16-hour battle sims they endured during training. So of course his temp-regulating undersuit is shot to hell and their quartermaster is a mean bastard trying to teach him a lesson in taking better care of his stuff.

Bly had wanted to cry and beg for mercy.

Instead he had narrowed his eyes, nodded once in menacing silence, and turned back to his duties, hoping to instill at least some fear and regret in Q.

Aayla, his cruel savior, had crinkled her nose at him and offered a very large, very billowy shirt when he had sweat-squelched his way to their command tent. “It’s Quinlan’s, originally,” she had explained at his curious look. “He didn’t want it anymore.”

“Too many sleeves?” Bly had guessed hazardously.

So now he’s sitting in shorts and a billowy shirt at their shared desk, the collar constantly slipping off his shoulder because Vos is huge, and it’s an all-around aggravating situation. Except Aayla who’s lovely and can do no wrong, obviously. But who’s also taking an interest in his tattoos which Bly is not prepared for since his brain is actively melting.

“They’re for my batch mates,” he thus replies to her inquiry.

While the frown is settling into her features, her eyes flick down to count the marks.

Bly kind of wants to cringe. Oops.

“I thought batches were… decanted,” bless her for stumbling over that word, “in fives?”

He leans back, shrugs deliberately which has the added bonus of the shirt hiding the hashmarks again. “Now, yeah.”

“Cody, Wolffe, Fox,” she counts, her eyes boring into him. She’s like a massif with a bone, and there are moments Bly wants to be a chew toy. Sadly, this isn’t one of them. “I’m sorry about Ponds,” she says, means it with all her heart. “And you. I thought that was your batch?”

“Now. Yeah,” he repeats, half-smile lifting one side of his mouth. Does his best to not let the relief be palpable for her senses.

.Lightning

“Does it really have to mean anything when it looks this cool?” He almost cracks his neck trying to look at his back in the mirror. Lightning bolts strike out from his spine, wrapping around his upper arms like electric wings.

So cool.

“Your body, your choice,” Aayla says diplomatically.

Never mind the nay-sayers.

.Tic Tac Toe

“Ow,” Bly groans.

“Fucking tubie,” Squid hisses at him, bloody hands doing stuff way too fast for him to follow, “stop crying, it’s just a flesh wound.”

Holy hell, but the spots in front of his eyes do seem to grow larger. “You’re holding my innards,” he points out just as Squid throws away something bloody. “Don’t I still need that?”

“That was a wound pad, stupid.”

Wow, the black spots are in color now. “Mind the regs, soldier,” he slurs out.

Squid pulls a bandage - when did he do that? He’s incredible. He makes tattoos and medic stuff! - way too tight. “Commander Stupid,” he relents with another harsh pull. Bly pouts at him. “Congrats, you won the game.”

Bly weakly fist bumps the air. “Yay.”

.327

“Well,” he huffs out with a chuckle, leans back against the hull, “they’re my everything. Body, heart, soul. I’m ready to die for them.”

“They’re ready to die for you, too,” Aayla says quietly.

“Yeah.” He watches her roll the mug a trooper, long gone, made for her between her hands. “Wish they’d stop that.”

.Splinters

Squid wipes away the excess ink with ease and practice. “Well, it looks as stupid as you wanted it to. My work here is done.”

“Are you sure you can’t see the tattoo underneath?”

“Of course.” Squid pulls off the stained gloves, throwing him a judging side-eye. “No one will know what exactly you “hearted”, Commander.”

.Text

“Out of my way,” Aayla reads off his hand while he is unfairly under the influence of way too many drugs, “Rippin off my flesh, so you can’t recognize me, anymore.”

“I was an angsty youth,” he explains, maybe still sore about Wash forgetting the g in ripping.

She nods sagely. “That explains your taste in music.”

“I love polka.”

“No, the other one—“ She pats his hand which she’s still holding. His hand is so lucky. “Never mind. When you get out of here I’m introducing you to grunge and taking you flannel-shopping.”

His head is already nodding. His body is awesome at responding. “You’re like my sugar daddy,” he compliments her. Her and her twin. No, that can’t be right. He blinks and there’s only one Aayla again.

She snorts at him. “Showing you the holonet has been a mistake and keeps me up at night.”

.Flowers

“I wanna be a hi—,” Bly hiccups, fumbles with his drink before it goes all over Cody. “Hibi—“

“Hibiscus,” Fox suggests more drily than his drink.

“That one! I wanna be a hibiscus in my next life.” Just chilling in the sun all day, getting watered.

“I wanna be a spexcel sheet,” Cody says to the soaked through napkin which is stuck to his face but also to the table.

“We know,” the rest of them say in unison.

Man, being a hibiscus would be amazing. He will not remember this by morning.

Bly sits up in alarm at that revelation, spills his drink over Cody anyway. “I will not remember wanting to be a hibiscus,” he says, keeps his voice from wobbling by the skin of his teeth.

“You could write it on Cody the spexcel sheet to remember,” Wolffe suggests, pats Cody’s head when vague grunts of agreement sound from the napkin.

“Or,” Fox drawls out with a slow grin.

.

Bly very carefully tugs on the bandage with squinting eyes. The foil and adhesive separating from his skin is loud as fuck but needs must when it comes to facing the fallout of a drunken night. The bandage slowly reveals tender but well-healing skin, gold and a dark brown accentuating his skin.

He stares.

“This is not a hibiscus.”

[lilyhyperfixates]

I think he knows - B.B

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Wordcount: 0.7K

Warnings: Age gap (10 years, Benedict is 28, Reader is 18.) No Y/N used.

Authors note: Who was gonna tell me our boy Ben is 28 in S2??? I was flabbergasted when i googled it for this fic😭

The ball was absolutely boring to you. You were silently observing the people there and the conversations being held around you. The dance card that dangled from your wrist painfully empty, the small glass lemonade in your hand turning lukewarm from being held so long. Your eyes fall on Benedict Bridgerton, one of the most eligible bachelors of the season.

This social season was only your first, having been presented to Queen Charlotte only two weeks prior. You held no hopes of marrying this season. The gentlemen of the ton had not paid a lot of attention to you thus far, apart from the few dances you’d had.

Despite mr. Bridgerton being 10 years your senior, you felt yourself oddly enamored by him. You had just turned eighteen, only just allowed to be out in society. Regardless of your age you had gentlemen far into their forties approaching you for dances. The thought of mr. Bridgerton wanting to dance with you did not repulse you like it had with other gentlemen. Thinking about it even made your stomach flutter a little, not that you would ever admit that.

Benedict had been getting pestered by debutantes and marriage minded mama’s all evening. Since the ball was hosted by the dowager Viscountess, his mother, it was to be expected he would be approached all night, but in all honesty you pitied him a bit. He had been getting more and more attention each social season that he remained unmarried.

You had heard of Benedict Bridgerton before your debut, as he was an acquaintance of your father’s. Now at the ball you saw him in a completely different light though, not an acquaintance of your father, but a man you found quite attractive. You had always thought him an attractive man, but in the lighting of the sun setting and the stained glass windows from the ballroom he looked simply angelic.

Benedict and your father often painted together and you always found small excuses to be in the room, harboring a small crush on Benedict.

Suddenly you were pulled out of your thoughts when Lord Beswick approached you. Lord Beswick was a man in his late thirties with little to no hair on his head. He had seemed particularly eager to have you dance with him on earlier occasions, which was hard to refuse without seeming impudent. As the man approached you, you prepared yourself to have to dance with him again.

Then you feel a touch on the small of your back. Your head snaps around to find the source of the touch and your eyes meet those of Benedict Bridgerton. Lord Beswick then finally reaches you and asks you for your next dance.

"Unfortunately for you, the lady has already promised her next dance to me, Lord Beswick.” Benedict tells the man in a smooth and charismatic voice. You silently thank him with a look and allow him to write his name on your dance card. He quickly leads you to the dancefloor and gets ready to dance with you.

As the music starts playing Benedict begins dancing with you gracefully, he had obviously had dance lessons as a child. “Thank you for saving me from Lord Beswick.” You thank him, speaking softly, almost as if you were frightened to talk to him. Truthfully you were slightly scared to be talking to him, he was a bit intimidating to you.

“No need to thank me, I could not let a lady such as yourself dance with such a man.” Benedict states. His voice enhances your attraction towards him, it being crisp and confident. You had noticed before he always carried himself with confidence and grace. “I shall thank you for it regardless, I do not believe I would have survived another dance with him.” You utter out, still nervous to be in such close proximity to him.

You feel like he has got your heart skipping down sixteenth avenue, it almost beating out of your chest. He gives you a small smirk, looking down at you as you dance. “I have noticed you looking at me, Tonight and whenever your father and I paint at your estate. Is there any particular reason for that, my lady?” He asks, the smirk still lingering on his face.

I think he knows…

[collaredsoldat]

Condition.

summary: Soldat refuses to sit down, you notice he's in pain.

warnings: Post!HYDRA Winter Soldier | Post!HTP | Post!SA | Descriptions of SA | PTSD symptoms | Brief flashbacks of SA | Non sexual nudity | Swearing | Descriptions of physical injury and sexual punishments

a/n: I saw someone caught one of the things I wrote earlier in hcs and I knew at some point I was going to delve deeper into it. So that's the push I needed. This one is potentially triggering thus no tags have been added to this post. Unedited; I have so may wips rn, I will check for mistakes later. ;; wc: 4.4k

You weren't too sure what the problem was.

Soldat didn't like to sit down. You thought maybe it was because he felt like he had to be on guard at all times, fresh out of HYDRA and paranoid the agents would somehow find his whereabouts, then forcibly break down your door and tear him away from your apartment that he deemed safe enough.

You noticed a pattern in Soldat's actions whenever he did reluctantly lower himself into a seated position. With each attempt, you saw a subtle but unmistakable wince or a barely audible hiss escaping through his clenched teeth, betraying his discomfort. These seated interludes were invariably brief, lasting a few seconds before he would abruptly rise to his feet once more.

The simple act of lowering himself onto a chair seemed to require an immense effort, though he tried desperately to conceal his discomfort behind a façade of indifference. The careful dance of pain that displayed anytime he attempted to lower himself down on the ground, or apply any pressure at all to his backside, shot up his spine and made him think twice.

On occasion, you noticed him favoring one side of his body as he sat, shifting his weight in what appeared to be an attempt to alleviate some hidden source of pain. But, more often than not, Soldat opted to forgo sitting entirely, preferring to maintain a standing posture that allowed for a quick reaction to any perceived threat.

It had only been a few days.

He maintained his resolute silence, stubbornly refusing to utter a single word. The only exception had been a barely audible thank you in Russian after you had carefully and gently bathed him. His demeanor remained guarded and defensive, occasionally punctuated by sharp, guttural exclamations of 'Нет' whenever you approached too closely. His words were replaced by growling and baring his teeth as if that were somehow off putting enough. He reacted as though you posed an imminent threat, despite your efforts to appear non-threatening and helpful.

You couldn’t really blame him, at the end of the day. His body bore the signs of telltale abuse and mistreatment for god knows how long.

As the days slowly passed, you grew increasingly concerned about his deteriorating condition. The pain etched across his features seemed to intensify with each passing hour, and you really wanted to confront him about his condition. He stayed in the spare room, his weary frame silhouetted against the window and sheer curtains guarding the glass. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion but remained vigilant, constantly scanning the darkened streets below.

Sleep had become a luxury he could ill afford, severe conditioning and sleep deprivation made it almost impossible for him to fall asleep naturally unless he completely collapsed from exhaustion. His paranoia and discomfort didn’t help his need to rest. The toll of his sleepless nights was clearly visible in the dark circles under his eyes and the slight tremor in his hand as he maintained his ceaseless vigil.

"Soldat..." You spoke gently, not wanting to startle him. Despite your cautious approach, your tone didn't have the desired effect. He still flinched visibly when you called his name, his body tensing as if bracing for impact. He turned to face you, his movements stiff and guarded, his eyes wary as the soldier watched you.

"It's okay, I just came to see you," you reassured him, your voice soft and soothing. You paused for a brief moment, allowing your words to sink in, before continuing with soft concern, "Are you doing okay? Are you in any pain?" As you spoke, you took a tentative step into the room, slow and deliberate to avoid frightening him further.

Soldat's reaction was immediate and instinctive to your step. He took one step back in response to your advance, his body language screaming discomfort and distrust. However, his retreat was cut short as his shoulder made contact with the cold, unyielding surface of the wall behind him. The realization that he had nowhere left to go flashed across his face, a fleeting expression of panic quickly masked by a forced blank stare. He stood there, cornered and tense, like a wounded animal trapped with no escape route.

You knew better than to approach too quickly. Experience had taught you that if he felt cornered or threatened in any way, he'd lash out instinctively. Although he hadn't physically harmed you before, you were aware of his potential to do so. He was a goddamn super soldier, and you were just a civilian. He could snap your neck with one arm. The tension in the air grew and you could sense his unease increasing with each passing moment.

"It's okay, I promise..." You slowly raised your hands, palms outward, trying to placate him. You were very cautious with your actions, designed to show him that you harbored no ill intent. You maybe hoped he’d recognize you were harmless, but understood why he still felt wariness in himself. You remained rooted to the spot where you stood, consciously avoiding any sudden movements that might startle him or exacerbate the fear you had inadvertently stirred. "I just want to see how you're handling yourself... you seem to be in pain, and I want to help. That's all I'm here for, nothing more."

You paused, carefully observing his body language. His already stiff posture became increasingly rigid as he pressed his back firmly against the wall. It was as if he was trying to conceal something from your view or instinctively protect an injury. His wince was unmistakable even in the dark room, as clear as a beacon in the night. Your ears picked up the sharp, hissing intake of breath when he inadvertently applied too much pressure to his backside. The sound was a clear indicator of his discomfort, and it only reinforced your concern.

"Please...Soldat, let me have a look at you?" You whispered softly, your voice barely audible in the tense atmosphere. Your heart ached with the desire to ease his suffering, to offer a gentle touch that might soothe his pain or provide the comfort he had been robbed from. You yearned for his trust, to create a haven where he could lower his defenses and find solace in your presence instead of constantly feeling so anxious and alone.

The air between you grew thick with anticipation, punctuated only by the shallow, measured breaths you both took. In the depths of his eyes, you could see the internal struggle unfolding—a battle between ingrained wariness and the desperate need and hope for comfort. Time seemed to stretch as he weighed his options, his body still rigid with uncertainty. Finally, after several long minutes, a subtle shift occurred in his demeanor.

Slowly, he began to peel himself away from the wall that had been his refuge. His body language was tinged with nervousness, his gaze never left you as he inched forward, scrutinizing your every breath, every twitch, as if anticipating a sudden betrayal. The distance between you diminished gradually until he came to a halt by the edge of the bed, his posture still coiled with tension, ready to retreat at the slightest provocation.

"There we are...good job," you offered gentle words of encouragement, mirroring the approach you had taken during his bathing session. The positive reinforcement had proven effective then, so you decided to employ the same strategy in this situation. "I can see you're in pain. Could you point to where it hurts?" You inquired softly, fully aware that he might not respond verbally given his usual restraint from speaking.

For a brief period, he remained completely still, his body language giving no indication of his thoughts. Then he shifted his posture, turning in such a way that his back was now fully exposed to your view. However, without the aid of words, the gesture alone didn't provide much clarity. The area of discomfort could be anywhere along his spine or surrounding muscles. "Is it your back that's causing you pain?" You asked, hoping for a more specific response.

He shook his head slightly, a subtle movement that nonetheless clearly conveyed a negative answer.

"Okay…is it your legs that are hurting?" You ventured, this query elicited a slight shrug from him, a gesture that hinted at possible agreement but still left room for uncertainty. You found yourself at a loss, unsure of how to proceed or phrase your next question in a way that would yield more precise information. After a moment's hesitation, you decided to be more direct in your approach, hoping it wasn't what you thought, but part of you knew deep down that it probably was. "You don't sit down very often. Is there some discomfort in your bottom?"

He almost made a scoff, his brow furrowing slightly at the unfamiliar sound. The concept of shyness was foreign to him, it contrasted to the harsh commands he was accustomed to hearing, vulgarity being barked at him about his body and how he looked. Soldat's eyes, initially narrowing with a hint of suspicion, quickly softened as he processed your tone. His gaze met yours, and he offered a gentle yet subtle nod. You noticed a flicker of discomfort cross his features, leaving you puzzled about the source of his pain. Hesitantly, you spoke again, "Can I see?"

He bristled instantly, a cocktail of emotions surging through him. Vulnerability and aggression warred within, his muscles tensing as if preparing for a fight. He had to remind himself that this was you standing before him, not them - not the towering figures from his past. You weren't one of the men who had loomed over him, using their size to intimidate and control. You weren't here to pin him down or force his compliance. Instead, you were asking for permission. The concept was so foreign, so at odds with everything he knew, that it almost felt like a trap. The idea that he might have any sort of autonomy, any say in what happened to his own body was terrifying.

Your simple act of requesting permission sent his mind reeling. It stirred up a maelstrom of conflicting instincts within him. Part of him yearned to seize this newfound agency, to exert control over his own choices. Yet another part, deeply ingrained and conditioned by years of abuse, screamed at him to flee. The mere possibility of having a choice was so overwhelming that it almost made him want to turn tail and run, to retreat to the familiar confines of obedience and subservience.

After a moment of internal struggle, he made a decision. He shifted closer to you.

His body language was a mix of caution and tentative trust as he allowed you to examine him. He was clad in the clothes you had provided, a simple black tank top and a pair of comfortable sweatpants. It wasn’t much, by any standards, but when he arrived at your home you had no men’s clothes at all. You hastily had to buy him an outfit of some kind. At least these clothes were stretchy, he hadn’t even told you his size.

His old uniform had been in a state of utter disrepair - torn, filthy, and reeking of neglect. You recalled the arduous process of attempting to salvage it, for whatever reason. The washing machine had groaned and protested, nearly breaking down after a single cycle as it battled against the ingrained grime and wear.

You delicately hooked your fingers into the elastic waistband of his sweatpants, slowly and cautiously tugging them down his thighs. This was different from when you had bathed him earlier; at that time, you hadn't been able to get a proper look at his condition. The warm water from the bath had caused his skin to flush, making any injuries blend seamlessly with the reddened areas. You hadn’t really looked at his lower areas either, your primary concern then had been to cleanse him thoroughly, rather than to scrutinize his body for signs of harm.

As the sweatpants descended to his knees, your eyes widened in shock, taking in the full extent of the damage. Angry welts and livid red lashes crisscrossed the backs of his thighs, creating a horrifying tapestry of abuse. The marks were severely inflamed, with some sporting small, beaded clots of blood that were desperately trying to peek through the swollen skin in an attempt to heal the split flesh. The pattern and severity of the injuries suggested that he had been repeatedly struck with a stick or a similar rigid object, each blow leaving its cruel imprint on his tender skin.

Your gaze followed the trail of lashes as they disappeared beneath the hem of his boxers, leading you to the realization that his buttocks likely bore the brunt of this vicious assault, explaining his evident discomfort and aversion to applying any sort of pressure to that area.

Steeling yourself for what you might find, you reached up to carefully peel down his boxers. As you did so, you offered him words of gentle reassurance, trying to comfort him since this was an extremely vulnerable position. "I'm just gonna take a look, okay?" you murmured soothingly as you slowly shimmied the underwear down to join the sweatpants at his knees, careful not to irritate his welts. Your suspicions were confirmed as the fabric fell away, revealing the full extent of the damage.

His buttocks were covered in a dense network of welts and bruises, the marks here even more numerous and severe than those on his thighs. Bruising painted his backside in various shades of purple, blue, and black, with the deepest bruises appearing almost pitch against his pale skin. The sight was enough to make your stomach churn, a mix of sympathy and anger rising within you at the thought of the pain he must be enduring.

Your gaze was drawn to the sight of dried blood on his inner thighs, your brow furrowing as you looked at the obvious bleeding that had been occurring. Without thinking, you instinctively reached out to get a closer look at the area, wondering if there was an open wound he had been concealing. You didn’t want him to have an infection, especially in that tender spot. Your hand gently caressed his cheek, gently trying to spread him to look.

Soldat's reaction to your sudden touch was immediate and he turned away from you, his movements awkward and uncoordinated due to his pants still being bunched around his knees. His eyes were wide with fear and anger, locked onto you as he glared fiercely.

"Не трогай меня!" He snapped, his voice sharp and filled with warning. The Russian words hung in the air between you as he stood rigidly, facing you with a defensive posture.

For a second, you were sure he was going to lash out at you physically with the way he postured up. But you realized that beneath the aggressive front he was putting on, fear was the dominant emotion. He continued to back away from you, his movements jerky and uncoordinated because of the way his pants were around his legs.

As he backed away, his knees collided with the edge of the mattress behind him. The impact caused him to lose balance, and he fell awkwardly into a seated position on the bed. The moment he made contact with the mattress, a sharp, pained sound escaped his lips, wincing as his face contorting in a grimace that showed the intense discomfort he felt from sitting. The force of his body weight had him sit harder than normal, the collision with the bed felt like he had fallen on his ass on the floor.

Almost as quickly as he sat, he struggled to his feet once more. His leg muscles flexed as he jerked himself upward, the sudden movement seemed to intensify his pain and you could see his knees trembling, threatening to give way beneath him. The agony that shot through his body was evident in every line of his face and every quiver of his muscles. He reached out and gripped the edge of the bed, trying to keep himself upright and not fall down to his knees.

Your heart ached seeing him so scared and hurt, especially in this sick way. You took a step forward, your hand held out as you cooed at him. "Soldat, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have touched without telling you. But you're bleeding, I just wanted to see where it was coming from, that's all." You attempted to explain your innocent reasoning, but he felt so much anxiety at the moment, he didn't trust you to just look. Those wild eyes made contact with yours, a look that told you to back off.

So you did. You didn't want to freak him out any more than he was right now.

His trembling legs felt uncontrollable, finally betraying him as he slowly collapsed to the floor, crumbling like a wilting flower. He surrendered to the soft embrace of the plush carpet beneath him, settling down on his side. He carefully curled into a tight ball, desperately trying to ignore the searing, relentless pain that radiated from his ass. The intensity of the sensation was overwhelming now that he had stimulated the pain by his accidental sit, causing him to retreat further into himself. It didn't help that memories were flooding his vision, he just saw boots surrounding him and vicious words being spat at him.

You observed his distress from a distance, recognizing the need for space in this. You made the decision to quietly exit the room, allowing him the solitude he seemed to desperately cling to. Attempting to intervene or offer comfort at this time would likely prove counterproductive, pushing too hard or too soon would only serve to exacerbate the situation, potentially causing him to withdraw even further. You wanted him to trust you so badly, but that meant patience was your best friend, and you required it for this delicate situation.

From what you had seen, your mind wandered to possible causes. You knew of the beating and relentless torture he faced, for whatever reason the idea of sexual assault hadn't crossed your mind until now. However...the blood trickling down his inner thigh felt like a slap in the face at your ignorance.

Of course they would do that. HYDRA was full of sick degenerates that were hungry for taboo and inhumane activities. The men in charge got away with everything, and being an asset in HYDRA was less than being a pet, a mere toy for pleasure and consumption. Soldat was basically just a doll for them to puppet around and fuck with.

After several long minutes had passed, you made your way back to the room. Soldat was still curled up tightly on the floor, his arms wrapped protectively around his face and his knees drawn up close to his chest. The poor soldier looked so pitiful as he curled into a small ball like that, as if he were shielding himself from an impending threat. Your heart ached at the sight, deep-seated fear must have driven him to such a defensive position.

You approached him.

Your feet moved silently across the plush carpet of the room, each step measured and deliberate so as not to startle him. As you drew closer, you lowered yourself to the ground, settling a few feet away from his huddled form. You wanted to be near enough to offer comfort, but far enough to give him the space he clearly needed.

"Soldat..." Your voice was barely above a whisper, soft and soothing to keep his frayed nerves calm. "Do you want me to help you clean up? I promise, I won't do anything you're not comfortable with. I'm not... I'm nothing like those bastards who hurt you." The last words came out with a hint of venom, your disgust for those who had mistreated him evident in your tone.

There was a moment of tense silence before Soldat eventually responded. He hesitantly lifted his head, the sight of his face made your heart clench. His face was flushed a deep red with random blotches, his eyes were glossier than you had ever seen them, brimming with unshed tears. The vulnerability in his gaze was almost unbearable to look at, making your chest feel tighter with each breath. You watched as he visibly swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing with the motion. His head inclined ever so slightly in what you interpreted as a nod of agreement.

Encouraged by his response, you continued in the same gentle tone, "I promise you, it'll help those welts feel better. Bit of cool water and some ointment will soothe the pain and help the inflammation." You paused, talking as if you were speaking to a frightened animal or scared child. "And I really need to make sure you don't have any tears or excessive bleeding down there. That could lead to infections or other bad things that will require more serious care, and I don't want your condition to worsen. I swear I'll be as gentle as possible."

A beat.

Then two.

Then three.

Soldat gave you another slow nod, just enough for you to notice his compliance. "I'm going to go grab some things, I'll be right back." You went to the bathroom where you kept a first aid kit, not really sure what you needed, but it contained some gels and ointments that you knew would at least soothe the swelling skin.

You carefully settled yourself beside him and reached for a bottle of soothing ointment, it was typically used for burns but equally effective for welts. The cool, smooth glass of the bottle felt reassuring in your palm as you unscrewed the cap. You squeezed a generous amount onto your fingertips, the translucent gel glistening and cooling your fingers already.

You lowered your hand to his ass, your fingers ghosting over his skin before making full contact. You tenderly began to spread the healing substance over one of his cheeks, ensuring every affected area was covered. You made sure not to press too hard, and to get it down his thighs too.

At the initial contact, his body tensed involuntarily. The sudden coolness of the gel against his heated skin elicited a sharp intake of breath, followed by a long, shuddering exhale. His mind reeled, struggling to process this new sensation. He never experienced the soothing balm of pain relief; it was an alien concept to him.

Throughout his time in HYDRA, he had been conditioned to endure, to bear the full brunt of every punishment, every ache, every sting. The mantra that had been drilled into him echoed in his mind: pain was the sculptor of his being, the unyielding order he was meant to follow. It was through suffering, they said, that he would be molded into their ideal.

And so, he had taken it all - every lash, every blow, every tormenting penetration they forced onto him. The pain had been relentless, a constant companion that he had learned to expect and accept, no matter how intense or unbearable it became.

But right now, things were different. For the first time in decades, the familiar sting of pain was gradually being replaced by a soothing coolness that spread across his skin. The sensation was so different, of relief, of comfort, of care. The contrast between what he had always known and what he was now feeling was stark and overwhelming, almost triggering him to react and wipe it away, to feel that horrible pain once again. He at least knew who he was, who he was supposed to be with the pain accompanying him like his shadow. Without it, the sliver of knowledge of his being was gone.

"Most of the lashes are already clotted to heal so...there's no need to bandage them." You spoke calmly, satisfied with the ointment being spread on him. "But I will wipe away the bit of blood from between your legs, okay?"

Soldat, still reeling from the memories plaguing his mind, somehow understood your words and gave a tentative nod.

He felt the warm, damp cloth gently press against his sensitive inner thigh, the soothing heat gradually softening the dried, crusted blood. With each careful stroke, you cleaned away the remnants of his ordeal. Even after it had long been over, his body carried the wounds of it, reminding him of the painful experiences. Your touch was tender, as if you were handling something precious and fragile. The level of care you were showing him left him with feelings he couldn't quite decipher. He struggled to understand and accept your gentle treatment with his own self-perception. You approached him with a kindness and respect typically reserved for fellow human beings, a category he had long since excluded himself from.

He was a machine.

He was a toy.

He was HYDRA’s fist.

He was not a person.

You delicately cleansed between the affected areas, ensuring no trace of blood remained. Your movements were slow and deliberate as you navigated around the swollen, tender flesh, careful with the area since you knew it was very intimate and you didn’t want him to feel like he were being threatened. After all the blood was washed away, you applied a cooling balm specifically formulated to alleviate inflammation and discomfort in that sensitive region.

"There we go...all done," you murmured softly. Your hand was so warm and comforting, trailed along his back in a gesture of reassurance. To your surprise, he didn't flinch or pull away from your touch, a small victory in itself considering he would with any other kind of physical gesture. Mustering his strength, he pushed himself up onto his elbows, twisting slightly to survey the damage inflicted upon his body.

Soldat turned away as quickly as he saw it, his mouth contorting into a pained grimace. The soldier couldn't bear to look anymore, his mind reeling from the vivid memories that assaulted him.

He felt the phantom strikes of various implements of torture - the sharp sting of canes and crops swinging down against his ass.

The bruising impact of hands and boots, the searing pain of teeth sinking into his abused flesh, and the cruel bite of leather belts. He especially hated when the buckle hit his groin.

These ghostly sensations, etched deep into his psyche, haunting him with the horrors he endured, making him flinch involuntarily as if the torment was happening all over again.

"It's okay." You whispered, "You are safe now." Your hand rubbed circles on his back, you'd keep this in mind, this kind of assault he endured. It was complicate things in the future, but for now all you cared about was his comfortability. You continued to whisper comforting things, pulling a blanket over him that had been on the floor by his makeshift bed. You draped it over his backside, covering him and giving him some kind of security with feeling covered up.

For the first time, he seemed to be accepting your touch without reservations, as you felt the soldier's back muscles relax under your palm.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images found on Pinterest

[ganondoodle]

(new totk rewritten - super rough concept)

so this was a super rough sketch for retrieving the enigma stone of the zora- im currently redoing it since im not happy with this one-

but i have run into a bit of a problem; see the reason why theres monsters causing trouble everywhere is bc ganondorf is trying to keep the stones out of raurus hand(s) thus creating all those bosses to hopefully stop link from reaching them, or at least to slow you down BUT i cant seem to decide whether it makes more sense if the whole reason they are split up among the other regions is because the ancient .. 'sages' wanted to ALSO keep them away from rauru, or if they were instructed by him to do this and await his return (which would be a good reason why they are wearing that sonau helmet still .. if they werent completely in on it i doubt they would do it lol)

(the thought being, would rauru be more likely to not give the stones away at all or he was too afraid that gan could wake up earlier/break free and get his hands on them first- so he sends his trusty servants- sages out to construct big temples and await his return but to stop gan if he were to seek them out first ... also possibly so all the stones arent in one spot, since they, in my rewrite, are the highest concentrated version of spirit energy and would emit an extreme amount of energy likely to attract something... yeha its all based on luminous stoens containting spirit energy and that also powering the shiekah tech .. made a diagram (?) about it once actually, though some parts arent true anymore bc im omitting the whole dragon transform stuff)

(im also using this concept for the skyward sword comic btw, the mining of the timeshift stones being the reason the lanayru region becomes a desert bc the lands been robbed of life energy meant to go back into the system over time edit: i mean this as in an environment was drastically altered from its natural state in an extremely short amount of time, which is generally a bad thing, not as in desert areas just being dead sand filled wastelands, theres plenty of life there if meant to be like that/given long enough time to adjust or turn into it)

while i want to make rauru a villain i also dont want him to be too overtly evil since ... thats kinda boring and just pushes that role onto someone else, im aiming for more nuance overall (which is also why gan isnt some goody two shoes perfectly fine with hyrule, like yeah .. the calamity was his doing still)- so im leaning more towards the latter- though perhaps the gerudo did so more with the intent to keep it away from rauru

(also, i am including mineru after all.. but only as a mummy like so (sorry) but her stone is gone when you reach it bc its been taken by the yiga- for which you have to tract them down and fight koga (and possibly supah/sooga) )

[etheries1015]

Bestie yk that Yuu begins their friendship with Malmal because sir was roaming around old buildings right? Imagine Yuu starting a friendship with Malmal simply because of boredom. Class was soooo boring so Yuu decided to just chat with the person near them, which was Malleus.

You don't care if he's the next king of Briar Valley, if you're bored then entertainment is THE priority.

YES I LOVE THIS OSDLFSHEESFLS what better entertainment than the Fae prince himself?

Imagine You, sitting at your desk listening to another long and strenuous lecture that had not managed to keep your attention, doodling not even being able to satiate your boredem. So, what's the next best thing? Bother your deskmate, of course. You noticed him a few times; a rather tall fellow with long black horns and eyes as captivating as pure emeralds and ears pointed unlike a typical human. You always thought perhaps he had an affinity for theatrics- the way he seldom spoke up. At times you thought he hadn't even been a student at the school- the teachers never seemed to call his name during roll call (Of course it was because everybody already knew the esteemed prince of the land of faeries.) You know what they say, right? Always befriend and be nice to the quiet kid in school. So, out of boredom and curiosity, You tapped his shoulder.

"Hey," You whispered, The tall man with pointed ears started at the sudden contact before turning his head to look at you peculiarly. Without as much as an answer, you began to ask your question.

"Are those real? Your horns?" He seemed to pout at this only for a split second before confusion and offense seemed to mix into his (rather beautiful) features. He tilted his head before seemingly deciding on something in his mind, leaning over to take another look at you.

"Is that a genuine question, child of man? Are you, what they say, 'pulling my leg'?" He asked. You almost laughed at loud at the pompous way of speech he took on, and immediately knew you would be thoroughly entertained by this man. You found it...almost incredibly attractive, the way his silky deep voice spoke in a victorian royalty kind of way. You let out a quiet chuckle and with a raised eyebrow you leaned against your desk with a hand propping up your head as your elbow lay firm against the wood.

"Well, as far as I'm aware I'm as genuine as one can be," You smiled, "I'm (y/n), what's your name?" Another question that colored him mildly bewildered yet incredibly inquisitive at your pure ignorance of who you sat next to. Malleus opened his mouth to answer, yet found himself closing it a couple times while contemplating revealing the truth. Perhaps this person was genuinely in the dark about his status and position, and he did not want to miss the chance to converse with someone who willingly wanted to hold relations with him. Thus, he bit his tongue and turned it into a game.

"My name doesn't matter," He said, "How about you choose one for me?" You raised both of your eyebrows and bit your bottom lip attempting to hold back a roar of laughter, you truly had found one interesting fellow to introduce yourself to.

"Alright...how about...hm..." You studied his person before snapping their fingers in revelation. "Hornton!" They said it almost too loud, and the professor quickly chastised them for speaking during the lecture. Malleus gave you a fond smile and nodded, turning back to the teacher resuming the boring lecture that took place.Your boredom showed no bounds, however, and you decided to hand Malleus little doodles with silly notes through the end of the period. Malleus did not reciprocate these notes, for royalty need not indulge in such silly idiocracy, yet the least he could do was appreciate your attentiveness to the prince. Once the bell rang and marked the end of the period, you collected your things and held out your hand to the tall prince.

"I decided you're my new friend! Here's to our long-lasting friendship, hornton!" Malleus's eyes widened in shock, standing and staring down at your...incredibly trusting and naïve smile before his shoulders shook in laughter. Nodding and holding his hand to reciprocate your gesture of kindness, he shook it earnestly.

"Indeed. I look forward to our...friendship." He watched as you skipped away and out of the room to your next class, Malleus gathering the silly little notes he now called his treasures and shuffling them into his pocket.

He suddenly found himself becoming excited for next day's boring lecture.

~~~~

Masterlist

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

Devil's Snare part.3

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Description: Aemond tests his handmaiden's resolve not to fall in love with him and might just be rewarded for his efforts. But rumours surrounding the dismissal of Aemond's previous handmaiden threaten to derail their budding romance.

Previous part

Writer's note: Thank you so so much to everyone who follows this story. Your comments genuinely make my day 🥺. Aware Aemond has been fighting for his life to get Y/N to love him at an absolutely glacial pace...hopefully this will make up for the slow-burn thus far ;) Also I got carried away so there will definitely be a part 4 if everyone still cares for it.

Warnings: female reader, slight mention of blood/injury detail, slight angst, Aemond has some anger issues, mention of Granny Vhagar, potentially ooc Aemond (though I stand by him being a total sweetheart with the person he loves), so long it's not even funny anymore.

Y/N felt a headache coming on, though she could not tell whether it was from contending with her conflicting feelings for Prince Aemond or if she was coming down with an illness.

Of late, the Prince had become bolder and always seemed to be touching her or inhabiting her space in some small way, as if tethered to her by some string she could not see. Although he never crossed the boundaries of what was appropriate and seemed to always be watching for her response. His hand would graze the small of her back as he reached round her to take a book from his shelves or his fingers would brush against hers as she handed him a goblet of wine. Before, he had always sat across from her in his favoured chair when she came to him with questions of what she was reading with Helaena, or he simply asked her to sit and talk with him.  Now he had begun to sit beside her on a chaise, close enough that their arms and thighs pressed together and his knee brushed against hers as he turned towards her to speak.

Only the other day, when the Princess had beckoned him over to look at Y/N's needlepoint on a dress she was mending for Helaena, he had positioned himself right behind her seat, one arm falling upon the arm rest, and leaned over her shoulder close enough for her to feel the reverberation of his chest as he spoke, sending her heart racing. "I am blessed to have a handmaiden that is both pretty and skilled in equal measure, sister." She rarely felt his eye stray from her when they were together in his chambers or Helaena's, and felt his gaze even as they crossed paths in the halls of the Keep during the day.

There were few periods of silence between them as from the moment she entered his chambers, Aemond would be asking her all sorts of questions about herself and about her day. Nothing was too insignificant for he seemed to want to know everything. And so she found herself complaining to him of his brother Aegon's new manservant who had begun to develop airs and graces, ordering the handmaidens about, much to her chagrin. Realising Aemond had been silent for a long time, Y/N began to feel slightly self-conscious she'd been boring him.

"I apologise, my prince. I'm wittering on about nothing."

She turned from him, feigning organising the items on his desk though she had already rearranged them earlier that day. She heard his soft tread approaching her before his hand covered one of hers to stop her movements. "Everything you have to say is important to me." His hand wrapped more fully around her own as he brought their joint hands towards him. Y/N knew she should pull away, that she shouldn't accept such intimate touches from the Prince, but she couldn't bring herself to do so, her own feelings for him having spread like wildfire despite her best intentions. Aemond graced her with a conspiratorial grin, leaning down to chase her eyes as they nervously flitted from him to the tapestries over his shoulder. "Would you like me to dispatch him for you?"

Y/N snorted at his jest and immediately covered her mouth with her free hand, embarassed that the sound had escaped her in front of the Prince. Aemond only chuckled and pulled her hand from her mouth so he had both gripped in between them. "Pease do not try to suppress your laughter around me, little one. I am gladdened to have been the cause of such a sweet sound." Y/N was certain she was blushing furiously at the Prince's attentions. Seeming to sense that his handmaiden was feeling overwhelmed, Aemond gently squeezed her hands before releasing her, only to raise his hand to brush a lock of hair behind her ear. "I hope to see you in the morning, Y/N, before I leave to train. That will be all for this evening." Y/N only nodded at the Prince, slightly dazed by his tender touch as she gazed at his handsome features. She found herself wanting to trace the contours of his face with her hand, to run her fingers along his cheekbone. Aemond's smile only grew in response, prompting Y/N to inwardly shake herself and turn to leave. When she reached the door she chanced a glance back to find him still watching her as if expecting her to turn back to him. His knowing smirk had her quickly flipping back round to exit his chambers.

As the morning sun cast a warm glow upon the Red Keep and its inhabitants began to waken, Aemond awaited the arrival of his lovely handmaiden to see him off before he left for the training yard. He was satisfied with the progress he had made to endear Y/N to him. Since he'd realised she at least harboured some attraction for him, he'd continuously tried to test the waters of her feelings, hoping with time their currents should strengthen into something more substantial, that she would come to reciprocate his love for her. He did not wish to make Y/N uncomfortable, ever aware of her shyness, or for her to feel duty bound to accept his touch. So he analysed her reactions carefully each time he initiated any physical contact with her or paid her compliments. Every time she simply blushed as he purposefully brushed his arm against hers, instead of shifting away from him, a gratified smile would ghost onto his face. Her reactions renewed him with confidence, assuring him that his attentions were not unwanted, his pursuit of her not without hope.

Looking up with a smile as the door to his chambers opened, his face fell as a different handmaiden entered than the one his heart yearned for. A heavy feeling of dread came over him almost immediately. Had something happened to Y/N. Was she unwell? Had she been mysteriously dismissed as his previous handmaiden had been? When the new handmaiden could not provide him with an explanation of Y/N's absence, he stormed from the room in the hopes that his sister Helaena might have knowledge of Y/N's whereabouts.

"Do you know where Y/N is? She did not attend to her duties this morning."

Helaena looked up from the tapestry she was sewing, alarmed by the abruptness of her brother's arrival and the slightly demanding tone of his questioning. "She complained of a headache yesterday and I sent her back to the servant's quarters to rest when she felt well enough to stand. Mayhaps it still ails her."

Aemond felt his chest constrict with worry and his voice came out quieter than he would have liked at his fears having been realised. "She is unwell? Should I go to her, ensure she is comfortable and being cared for?"

Helaena rose to take his hand "Most assuredly not, brother. It would only raise unwanted questions from the household staff and Y/N should be left to rest. Perhaps send her a token of your affectation instead, do you know which flowers she favours?"

Aemond nodded at her suggestion, his sister was wise and he trusted her judgement, though he knew others were quick to ignore her. "Of course, she has expressed a preference for bluebells."

Helaena's eyes glazed over as she considered this and Aemond patiently waited for her to share what she was thinking. "I believe you can find some on the eastern side of the Blackwater. I spotted them while flying overhead with Dreamfyre."

Aemond swiftly raised his sister's hand to his lips.

"Thank you, sister. I will ride out with Vhagar hence."

At the scratchy feel of her throat that had swiftly accompanied her headache, and the nausea that washed over Y/N in Helaena's room, she realised she was in fact ill. Awaking the next morning, she felt even worse than she had the day before, finding it difficult to move her head without pain and she groaned quietly as she rose from her bed to prepare for the day. It took her one attempt to stand to realise she would not be able to work that day, as a wave of dizziness sent the room spinning and she fell ungracefully back onto her bed.

"You look terrible. Are you sick?"

Y/N raised her head just enough to look at her friend Celeste.

"I feel terrible too. Can you ask the matron to find a replacement handmaiden for me today?"

Celeste nodded before grinning at Y/N. "Oh but how will Prince Aemond do without his favourite handmaiden?"

"I don't know what you mean" Y/N rolled her eyes at her friend, causing her to scoff.

"Don't give me that. I've seen the way he looks at you when we pass him in the halls." Y/N blinked in surprise that anyone else had noticed Aemond's regard for her, that it was not just a figment of her wishful thinking.

"How does he look at me?"

"Y/N, he only looks at you. I rarely see him cast his gaze elsewhere."

Y/N suddenly felt grateful for her fever, as she was able to use it as an excuse for her flushed cheeks.

A light tap against the door of her shared room woke Y/N in the late afternoon. Pulling herself up, though her limbs felt heavy as lead, she opened the door to be met by a young squire holding a large bouquet of bluebells.

"Prince Aemond wished these to be delivered to you."

Carefully taking the flowers from the squire and thanking him, she shut the door. Leaning down to smell the fragrant perfume of her flowers, Y/N smiled at the Prince's thoughtfulness and care for her.

Aemond felt sick with worry, he'd not heard any news of Y/N for days and he was beginning to think he'd have to fall back back on his original plan to go down to the servant's quarters and check on Y/N himself. The soft click of his chamber door opening had his head snapping up as it did everytime, just in case it was Y/N. His heart soared at the sight of the very object of his thoughts on the threshold. Aemond strode up to her, taking her smaller hand in both of his, his expression one of gentle concern.

"Have you been very unwell?"

His handmaiden looked somewhat bashful under his steady gaze, but he found he could not look away, even to save her from embarrassment. His eye flitted rapidly over her face to memorise her features oncemore, not having seen her in several days.

"I am well now, I apologise for my absence." Y/N titled her head up to smile softly at him, causing his heart to stutter. "I must thank you for the flowers you sent. They were beautiful and brightened my day."

Aemond squeezed her hand gently in response, his heart gladdened that his gift had been so well received. He leant down to whisper teasingly in her ear.

"I will gladly bring you as many flowers as should please you if you will only smile at me so prettily."

Aemond chuckled at the look of shock on his handmaiden's face, releasing her from his hold and grabbing his sword, giving her a chance to collect herself. "I am headed to meet with Ser Criston, but I hope to continue our conversation later."

Aemond paid no mind to the audience that had gathered as he continued to parry every blow that Ser Criston levelled at him. His concentration was broken, however, when he spotted his handmaiden in his peripheral vision walking through the training yard, basket in hand. He noted that she had stopped to watch and threw himself into the duel with greater fervour, wishing to impress her. In a brief moment of distraction, as he redirected his attention back to Y/N to gauge her reaction to his swordsmanship, Criston's sword nicked his torso. Aemond hissed in pain, looking down to see blood beginning to spread across his tunic, though he did not think it could be deep. Criston lowered his sword immediately, panicked at having actually injured Aemond, who he'd come to see almost like a son. He had expected him to block his blow easily, not having counted on the Prince's distraction.

Y/N ran to Prince Aemond's chambers, tripping over her skirts in her haste. She'd heard of his injury in the training yard and could barely contain her concern as news of it flew about the Keep. She felt a flash of embarrassment as she remembered how she'd stopped to watch Prince Aemond duel with Ser Criston, impressed by his skill as he seemed to dance around his opponent. Though she'd left before he had been injured and needed to confirm for herself that he was not badly harmed. Flinging open the door without knocking, she burst into the room panting for breath. "My Prince, are you..."

The rest of Y/N's words got away from her as her eyes fell upon the Prince in question sitting on the edge of his bed, shirtless. She cast her eyes over the Prince's bandaged chest and torso, looking for his injury, but realised she'd been staring for far longer than was appropriate and quickly looked back up at his face to find him smirking at her. He could not be so gravely injured if he was still able to manage that, Y/N thought, embarassed by her own wandering eyes.

"Come here, Y/N."

Aemond's voice pulled Y/N towards him without her ever realising she'd been moving, although she stopped at a respectable distance away from him.

"Closer Y/N, I will not bite."

Y/N grew immediately suspicious of the mirth in the Prince's good eye and his teasing tone, but she took the final few tentative steps until she was positioned directly in front of him.

Aemond positively grinned up at her. "You are welcome to look."

Y/n's mouth fell open in shock at his meaning and she was certain she must look like a fish with her gawking. The Prince gave her no time to refute his allegation of staring, though in truth she had been. She could not deny even to herself that she found him beautiful.

"It is your fault after all." This startled her. How could he blame her for his injury? She had not swung the sword at him.

"My fault? What can you mean, My Prince?"

"I was merely distracted by your beauty, a stroke of luck for Ser Criston who could not have bested me otherwise."

Y/N took the time to swallow thickly, feeling slightly dizzy.

"You should not say such things, it is inappropriate. You are a Prince and I am a servant girl."

Aemond surveyed her for a moment, his eye trained on her face as he looked up at her.

"Does it make you uncomfortable?"

Y/N knew she should tell Aemond that yes, it did make her uncomfortable, pretend she didn't feel anything for him. That would have been the sensible thing to do. But she could not bring herself to lie anymore. Not when he was looking at her as if she placed the moon and the stars in the sky each night. Rather, as if she were both the moon and the stars for him.

"No."

"Then I do not care."

Aemond snaked a hand around her waist and pulled her towards him so abruptly that their knees knocked together and her hands fell onto his bare shoulders to steady herself. When he received no objection from the lady, Aemond wrapped his other arm around Y/N and pulled her down onto his lap. Tilting his head down, his nose grazing against her collarbone, he spoke against her skin.

"I always want you this close."

The door opened abruptly as the maestor entered the threshold. Y/N rose quickly, practically ripping herself from Aemond's arms, cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the position he'd found her in with the Prince. Head down to avoid seeing the judgement in the maestor's eyes, she sped past him without looking back. Though she still heard Aemond angrily shouting at the maestor for "scaring her" as she strode down the hall and an involuntary smile rose on her face.

Y/N tried to clear her thoughts of Aemond, but the terrible rumour she'd just been made privy to by Helaena's maid sent all of the feelings she'd tried so hard to repress bubbling back up to the surface. She had just begun to give into his pursuit of her only to find out he had pursued his previous handmaiden in the same manner, leaving her with child and dismissed from the household staff, so the rumours went. In hindsight, she'd been foolish to believe the Prince could ever truly care for her, feel anything deeper for her than mere attraction. Perhaps it was the chase itself he valued and she felt an uncharacteristic rage rise within her at such callousness.

Brusquely entering the Prince's chambers, she ignored the way his eyes lit up at the sight of her and the way he rose to greet her from where he'd been reading. She pretended not to notice, side stepping him with a simple "Good evening, My Prince", to begin lighting candles, the light of the day having waned. Aemond caught her wrist, stopping her in her movements, and gently turned her towards him.

"Has something happened? Have I done something to displease you for you to act so distant?" He raised his hand to brush some hair out of her eyes but Y/N recoiled from his touch, side stepping him again.

"I do not wish you to touch me. I have been made aware of your last handmaiden's fate and do not seek to follow her."

Aemond's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, his jaw clenching. "I do not know of what you speak, Y/N."

Y/N heard her own anger and sense of betrayal seeping into her biting retort. "Would you so soon forget her? Did she not bear your child. Was she not promptly dismissed by the Queen for it?"

As her words registered, Aemond's face blazed with indignation and he spoke through gritted teeth.

"You think me such a villain? That I would be capable of such depravity?"

"I do not pretend to know the ways of a Prince."

Aemond's voice was colder than she had ever heard it, though tinged by a note of insecurity. "I never did such a thing. Indeed, I have no idea as to why my mother dismissed the handmaiden, only that it was not of my own doing."

Y/N searched his face for the truth of his denial, but she could not find it within herself to believe the Prince could want her when he could have a noble lady or a princess if he wished. And she could not shake her suspicions as a result.

"It does not make sense for you to have behaved as you have towards me. What possible other reason could you have for pursuing a lowly servant girl?"

"So this is what you think of me? That I am a monster who preys on the hearts of young maidens only to ruin them?"

Y/N startled at the unbridled rage on the Prince's face. When Aemond's fist swung out and connected with the nearby cabinet Y/N shrieked and turned her head to the side, bracing for a blow that never came. A few moments of silence passed before she dared to look up. Aemond was looking at her with his mouth parted in shock as if she had struck him instead. "Did you think I would strike you?" His voice came out softer now, though this did no good to calm her nerves, which were still on high alert. She tried to brush away the tears that were rapidly forming and causing her vision to blur, not wanting to feel any more vulnerable than she already did. At the sight of her tears, Aemond took a step towards her, his arms held out as if to comfort her. "Please don't cry my love, I would never harm you." She took a frantic step away from him, cowering against the wall closest to the door. A look of acute pain fell across Aemond's face and he halted where he stood, arms falling back down to his side. She could see his fingers twitch slightly, as if it was only with a concerted effort that he was able to stay where he stood instead of going to her. Y/N hated the note of hysteria that laced her voice as she breathlessly gasped out her next words. "Can I leave?"

Aemond's head fell and she heard him take a sharp intake of breath before looking back into her eyes. His movements slow and considered, he opened the door for her and stepped aside to let her pass, though she heard a slight tremble in his voice. "I would never keep you here against your will." Y/N judged that he was telling the truth from the sincerity in his eye and all but ran from his chambers.

When Y/N entered his chambers the next morning, Aemond tried to apprehend her to apologise, to ask for her forgiveness. He had felt so hurt, so angry that there was a possibility Y/N should think of him as negatively as others seemed to, when he valued her opinion of him above all others. He'd purposefully made himself a formidable warrior, someone to be feared and respected, in response to the indignities and abuse he faced as a child. But he had never wanted Y/N to be afraid of him. He had only spoken her name before she rushed out "I only came to make my survey of the room and take the empty goblets, My Prince." Aemond was silenced by the trace of panic in her voice, how she should feel so afraid that she flew about the room to complete her duties and be free of him as soon as possible.

The following day Aemond had looked up hopefully at the sound of his door to see another maid entirely enter his chambers. On the third evening, Aemond did not expect to see Y/N, beginning to fear she might never feel comfortable to seek him out again. He resolved that if another day passed he would have to storm down to the servant's quarters to apologise to her if she would not come to him. It had been torture to be without her, so accustomed was he to seeing her everyday, and he felt he could go mad from missing her. Worse still was the knowledge that he had frightened her so severely that she should think he would harm her. The very thought struck horror into his heart and his head fell into his hands.

Y/N felt somewhat cowardly feigning illness so she did not have to see Aemond, another maid stepping in to fulfill her duties instead. But she had learnt the truth of his previous handmaiden's departure from the Princess Helaena, that she had indeed fallen pregnant, but with the child of her sweetheart who she promptly married. And now she felt ashamed at having levelled such awful accusations at the Prince. He had only ever been kind and a gentleman to her, only ever respected her boundaries and made sure she was comfortable with each one of his advances. Surely he would not wish to see her again. And yet she felt she must at least apologise for her part before requesting a new post.

Around the Hour of the Bat, a slight creak of wood alerted Aemond to his chamber door opening. He shot up from his seated position at seeing his beloved standing in the doorframe, her hand gripping the handle as if prepared to bolt at the slightest provocation. He cursed himself at his rapid movements, which had caused Y/N's eyes to widen and her to take a step back away from him. He wished he could pull her to him, hold her and tell her over and over that he would never harm her. But he knew that assuring her of this would require a much more delicate approach. Her name fell from his lips as a reverant whisper "Y/N."

Something in his expression or voice seemed to calm Y/N enough for her to softly close the door behind her and take a few tentative steps forward. Though, with grief in his heart, he noted how she would not meet his eye. Her voice came out so quiet and timid he could hardly bear the evidence of the fear he had wrought in the one person he wished to protect and care for above all else.  "You are not still angry?"

Aemond took one step forward and then another as he watched carefully for any signs of distress, aware she was like to be flighty. He approached until he was close enough to touch her, though he refrained from doing so just yet. "I was wrong to raise my voice at you, and to lash out so that you should think I would strike you. Your misapprehensions were entirely understandable and I bitterly regret being so blinded by anger that should never have been directed at you, the one I love."

Y/N's eyes shot up at his words, her brows pulled together quizzically. "You love me?"

Aemond smiled sadly down at her. "I adore you. I am sorry indeed if I have not expressed this clearly enough."

Gently taking one of her hands in his own he started to pull her towards the chaise in the centre of the room. She followed without complaint but still looked wary of him. Once she was sat, he knelt before her and took both of her hands in his this time. Aemond tried to endow each of his words with weight to express the truth of his love for her as he gazed into her face. "If you can find it in yourself to forgive me Y/N, I will make you a promise now that I will never again raise my voice to you, nor will I ever comport myself in such a brutish manner before you. I would never harm you, my sweet girl" He slowly raised a hand to rest it on her cheek. "You are most precious to me. I wish only to see you happy and safe, for you to let me love you. If you permit it I would make you my Lady Wife. But, if you do not think you can ever feel safe in my presence again and you wish to part from me I will try to bear it."

Aemond feared he had mispoken when Y/N's eyes watered until her head fell forward to rest on his shoulder. His hands rose up slowly to hold her against him, one hand tenderly placed against the back of her head. He waited patiently for Y/N to speak but felt relief roll over him at the thought that she had looked to him for comfort. "I love you, Aemond."

He gripped her to him tighter, feeling that no words could be sweeter to him. He had hoped for so long to hear her say those words, for her to return his love and yet now he still feared he might lose her. Aemond tried not to panic and hold Y/N more steadfastly against him as she pulled back to look at him seriously, seemingly now in control of her emotions, her face level with his. "I want to trust you, to trust in your intentions. I will believe you if you say you love me as I know now that I was wrong about your previous handmaiden. But you must realise I am a servant. Can you really wish to marry me? "

Aemond beamed at Y/N as he realised she did not wish to cast him aside, that he could still acquit himself to her and prove his intentions. Smiling at her, his eye softening, he raised his arms to place them on either side of her. "It is my greatest and most earnest desire that you become my wife. You would no longer be a servant but my Lady" He hesitated for a moment, thinking of how he could put into words his devotion to her. "I wish only to continue in your light." Aemond lightly trailed a hand down her arm, his heart beating erratically as he awaited Y/N's answer. Aemond stilled as she raised her own hand to rest against his cheek, worried that the slightest movement from him would cause her to reconsider her actions. Leaning into her hand he placed his own atop to hold hers in place and briefly closed his eyes in bliss at her touch so willingly given. "Then I will marry you."

Aemond wasted no time in sweeping Y/N back into his arms, letting out a laugh as the pressing weight of her potential rejection lifted, leaving behind only joy in her acceptance of his love. When he felt her gently push against his shoulders he immediately pulled back, concerned he'd somehow misread the situation and only dreamed she had agreed to marry him. His mind quickly quietened at her loving gaze, only to begin racing again as she unexpectedly pressed a chaste peck to his lips. Y/N had hoped to convey her own feelings for Aemond by initiating a kiss, but she immediately felt embarassed at her own inexperience, sure she had not done it correctly. Aemond was only too happy to take control, feeling an overwhelming sense of affection rise in him at her innocent gesture and the bashful look on her face. Smiling at her, he pulled her to him to capture her lips with his. Aemond tightened his hold on her waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck to bring him closer.

If you got this far you're a legend. Thank you so much for reading. I have ideas for at least another part so pls let me know if you want me to continue.

@nanawaffles

@youknownothingjohnwatson

@jjkysnk

@callsigncrushx

@misspinkonmars

@hyacinthesiss

@bitchyfestivalbouquet

@truly-abysmal

@void21

@sapphiresandferrari

@pinkykats-place

@superintenseart

@idonotknowenglish

[strangelittlestories]

Something interesting about archaeology is that it’s actually not that interesting: even when you’re on a dig, most of it is dirt and logistics and fragments.

Something scary about ghosts is that they’re actually not that frightening: even when you have a haunting, most of it is ectoplasm and low-key longing and echoes.

The fascinating bit about both is that, sometimes, when you piece all the boring bits together, you get a story; a story of how people used to live. It will probably be a story about something mundane, like how people cooked or what their bathroom solutions were.

For example: at this particular dig, we found fragments of large cooking pots in a few larger buildings. The smaller buildings that seemed to be individual homes did not have *any* surviving cooking pots (not even any copper remnants); however, they did have at least one well preserved earthenware bowl inscribed with runes.

These runes turned out to be a close match to an early rune of co-locating folk magic, seen primarily in the Katabasic region. The bowl was also adorned with a slate inlay, of a kind that was often used to write upon in chalk.

The apparent conclusion? This settlement operated a communal cooking operation that delivered food to order. We would assume the recipient would write their request in chalk on the slate inlay of their bowl, and the runes would briefly trick reality into thinking the inside of the bowl and the inside of the pot occupied the same space. Thus, the bowl would magically fill with food.

So, yeah. These folks had invented magical Doordash.

I briefly considered trying to replicate their system on my travel mug. The coffee on the dig site was *dreadful*, so I figured I could have my husband make some nice single origin cold brew back home (or maybe a nice pot of darjeeling second flush?) and teleport it in. But as it was likely tied to local hospitality folk magic, this would likely run across three problems: 1. Range limitations. 2. It may only work for community members. 3. Folk magic sometimes used local deities or spirits as intermediaries and popping a new request in the inbox of a dormant god was usually a bad call.

Oh, and reason number 4: the bowl we’d excavated was extremely haunted.

This may, in fact, explain why it was so well preserved. Theurgic suffusation is the term - if the spirit is clinging tightly enough to the atoms of the object, then time starts to think the material is just as undying as the soul.

You know how I mentioned the scary thing about ghosts is that they’re not scary? They only persist as fully ensouled beings as long as their unfinished business can feasibly *be finished*. Even with generation blood debts, they still tend to become unviable with a couple of centuries. Then the soul slowly starts to move on, leaving only an imprint on the umbra. That’s what’s scary about ghosts: even that which is undying will be eaten by history.

Except this blighter apparently.

So I ran a chemical analysis on the trace molecules left on the lining of the bowl. Then I ran the runes through a penumbral simulation matrix.

The bowl contained traces of calcified aconite. The runes showed an exploit in the magic; the teleportation could be hijacked by holy petition or speculative conjuration.

The ghost had been poisoned. Murdered.

And if they were still a ghost, then whoever killed them was *still around*.

I really really hope that I never meet whatever person or creature is apparently still alive close to a millennia after they murdering someone in a way that is both *really clever* and *really nasty*.

But oh buddy, oh pal … what I want may be immaterial. For surely do intend to figure out the whole of this story.

---

With thanks to Ellie for the submission of the Archaeologist (fearless, frightened, fancy) to the Character of the Month club.

Want to submit your own characters for my stories? Consider supporting me on Ko-Fi with a recurring donation https://ko-fi.com/strangelittlestories

[hellsitedotcom]

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ More Honkai Men & How They Kiss ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

featuring Jiaoqiu, Moze, ...

๋࣭ ⭑ Finished the Trailblazer Quest they appear in recently, and I...let's just say I get it now. I do apologize if it seems Out Of Character tho ๋࣭ ⭑

๋࣭ ⭑ warnings & info: none ๋࣭ ⭑ english is not my native language!

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ JIAOQIU ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

⤑ I believe that Jiaoqiu can be a sweet talker, a true gentleman when he's in love, which can be seen in the way he treats you, and thus, in the way he shows his affections to you.

⤑ He's the kind of person that has you practically melting at his touch, at the way he kisses you. He's gentle, sensual (not in an overly sexual way, but I lack a better word for it), and his kisses convey the deep love he feels for you.

⤑ Jiaoqiu is the kind of person that takes things slow, even after years of being together. He never gets...bored of what you have - it never becomes something he's so ''accustomed'' to that he feels the need to rush through it.

⤑ He'll hold you close, just shower you in compliments and sweet nothings before eventually leaning down to kiss you slowly, gently, taking your breathe away with each kiss.

⤑ Definitely the type to kiss your palm/hand, or kiss your shoulders when he walks past you from behind or while lying next to you. He's more on the affectionate side compared to some others, though he prefers keeping those affections private for many reasons.

⤑ When it comes to receiving kisses, I doubt he has much of a preference, since he prefers being the one to initiate kisses. And when you do end up being the one to kiss him, he'll probably be smiling just a tad more than usual, but only his closest confidants will notice.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ MOZE ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

⤑ Don't hate me, but I do not necessarily see Moze be the most physically affectionate guy. Maybe I'm biased, maybe I'm putting him a box, but to me, he shows his affections differently.

⤑ But, when it does come to kissing you, I can see him be somewhat roughly initially. Not necessarily because he lacks the experience (though you can headcanon it that way, if you prefer), nor because he ''dislikes'' kissing you. It's just...It just used to be how he does it.

⤑ Moze's kisses weren't ''intense'', per se, but just...rough, his lips crashing against yours in a way that would make you stumble back if it weren't for the arm he wrapped around your waist. Those kisses were brief, as if rushed, before he departed again, and left you standing there trying to process what had just happened.

⤑ With time, as he felt more and more comfortable, his kisses became longer, the roughness turning into passionate, intense kisses. He's still not one to frequently kiss you, but maybe that makes his kisses all the more special.

⤑ Again, while I don't see him be overly physically affectionate, I believe he'd be the type to kiss the top of your head occasionally - say, when you are cuddling or sleeping together. It's...a rarity, though becoming more frequent or a form of routine. Still, it is kept behind close doors, as Moze is no fan of public displays of affection.

⤑ On the receiving end, I do think he'd be more...vulnerable? I believe he loves receiving physical affection from you (though he prefers it in private, again), and would probably be the time to secretly/quietly long for your kiss. He'd definitely love random pecks on the cheek; totally possible that it would make him blush!

[moonstruckme]

sirius x reader where reader is remus' roommate at academic and one day she meets sirius when he is visiting remus and they click right away, all flirty and smiles and remus acting all annoyed but is actually happy for them

Hi sweetness, thanks for requesting!

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

modern au

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 555 words

“Hey,” Remus calls as he walks in the door, Sirius in tow. “I brought a friend over, hope that’s alright.”

You barely look up from your laptop. “Mhm, sure.” 

“Thanks,” he says. He feels weird asking—you’re amiable enough, and have never given Remus any indication that you care what he does in your apartment. Still, you’re a quiet thing. You generally keep to yourself, which suits Remus just fine, but it makes him feel a bit guilty that he’d forgotten to tell you his loudest, rowdiest friend would be coming to visit. 

Sirius’ eyes blow wide as soon as he catches sight of you, and he shoots Remus an open-mouthed look he can interpret without his friend saying anything: You didn’t mention your roommate is hot.

Remus sighs. “Sirius, this is Y/N. Y/N, Sirius.” 

You shut your laptop, looking up with a polite smile that only broadens as you take in the boy in front of you. “Hey,” you say, your eyes assessing. 

“Hello.” Sirius grins at you. “So, how are you enjoying living with our Moony? Is the snoring getting to you yet?”

Remus huffs indignantly, but neither of you seem to notice. 

“Moony?” you ask. 

“Old nickname.” 

“Right.” You shrug, looking bored. “Remus is a great roommate. He’s clean, quiet, not a creep. Checks all my boxes.” 

Remus grins proudly (though really, that seems like a fairly low bar), but Sirius shakes his head in disbelief. “Seems like she’s too nice to you, Moons,” he says solemnly, speaking apparently to Remus but with his attention still solely on you. “Who’s being mean to you when I’m not around to do it?”

You cock an eyebrow. “Sounds like he needs to be meaner to you.” 

Sirius grins. “Ah, he sure does try, but unfortunately there’s not much to say. I’m impervious to insult.” 

Remus is beginning to feel like a piece in a game in which he’s not expected to participate. “Are you sure about that?” he asks innocently. “Because I seem to recall an event during fifth year—”

“Although I have to give it to him.” Sirius rushes to speak over Remus, somehow still maintaining a casual tone. “He definitely knows how to pick the most gorgeous friends, doesn’t he?”

Remus is surprised at how easily you rise to meet Sirius’ bravado, not even the faintest blush coming to your cheeks as you return his smile. “Seems like it.” 

Remus rolls his eyes at the two of you, though he has to admit he’s immensely entertained. “Y/N,” he says, feigning reluctance, “Sirius and I were going to stop by the pub down the road, would you like to join us?”

“Sure.” You stand, shooting Remus a smile sweeter than anything you’ve shown Sirius thus far. “That sounds great, thanks.” 

Sirius almost knocks Remus over in his rush to occupy your attention again. “Excellent! Let me guess, you’re a cider girl?”

You roll your eyes at him, brushing your shoulder against his as you pass and letting him trail after you like a puppy. “Guess you’ll have to buy me one and find out.” 

“Enticing.” Sirius’ grin turns wolfish. “I don’t mind a bit of mystery.” 

Remus heaves a sigh, following the two of you out of the apartment and locking up. He suspects he’s in for a night of third-wheeling.

[mrpenguinpants]

Turning Red

— He's always so serious that they can't help but wonder what kind of emotions he's hiding underneath. Good thing you're around.

— Dan Heng, Gepard, Blade + Jing Yuan

Slight spoilers for Xianzhou and Kafka's companion quest.

[Masterlist]

I've fallen into the Honkai train, but here we are. Also, I know Jing Yuan doesn't fit this prompt but I like him so who cares.

Dan Heng

"Dan Heng! We need one more person to play Celestial Jade!" March hollars down the hallway only to receive no response. It makes her pout, biting the inside of her cheek as she taps her foot restless against the floor, "If you don't come soon then I'll be the one in trouble you know!"

Again no response...

She's checked his room and the archives, and yet no sign of the man. The Express is only so big so surely he didn't wander off somewhere outside right? Maybe you know where he is? Dan Heng seems to talk to you more than he does with her, so maybe he gave you a heads-up that he was going somewhere? It's not a solid plan, but it's a plan nonetheless so she marches her way to your room.

"Hey, have you seen Dan Heng anywh-" March starts as she opens your door only to stop mid-sentence since the eyes of the very man she was looking for are staring right back at her. "Ah. Oops."

Her eyes slowly trail down from his and ah- she understands why he was missing. You're curled up around him, arms haphazardly laid across his waist while your head is cushioned by his chest. Dan Heng doesn't seem to find your sleeping position bothersome, if anything it looks like he's trying to slowly nudge you closer without waking you up. One hand is on his phone, probably typing away on the databank, while the other is curled around your waist. His chin rests on top of yours contentedly as his white and turquoise coat is used as a mock blanket, leaving him in the black turtle neck.

Dan Heng looks like he's about to say something but you shift and mumble something in your sleep and they both go still. Scared that they may have accidentally woken you up and the Express doesn't have enough space for March to run and hide from Dan Heng but thankfully, you seem to settle down and return to your dreams. Thus, March and Dan Heng are locked in a staring contest before she slowly reaches into her back pocket without breaking eye contact.

"Don't you dare," Dan Heng whispers as loud as he dares, although his pink cheeks don't do anything to make him look intimidating.

"Oh, I think I dare," she grins too widely as she raises her camera, making sure it's on silent before she starts to bombard her gallery with a pink Dan Heng because he can't stop her unless he gets up. The most he can do is turn his face away but it shows the world his red ears. Once she's satisfied, she's sticking her tongue out and darts out of the room. She expects that two things will happen. Dan Heng will hunt her down and make her delete the pictures, but not before she sends them all to him. As soon as the door closes and March walks down at the end of the hallway she let her mini explosion commence because Geez! That was so cute! Who knew Dan Heng could be so adorable! Why can't she have that with someone special, this isn't fair!!

Gepard

Gepard Landau. The prestigious young captain of the Silvermane Guards who belongs to the noble Landau family. A personality of righteousness, a good family background, and on top of that he sure has a pretty face. The absolute perfect man.

What a boring guy.

That's the only thought that runs through Sampo's mind as he observes the blond hair man talking to his subordinate from a distance. The two of you are supposed to be on break - he knows this because it makes the other Silvermane Guards more relaxed so it's easier for him to run around - and yet Gepard has his back straight and looks as if he's never heard of what a day-off is. What a shame that those pretty blues only have eyes for reports.

"This part here has been causing some issues for our intelligence team," he hears the subordinate say and Sampo's eyes shift to you. He's heard of you before although not as much as Gepard. A simple errand girl who frequently moves between the Silvermane Guards and the Neverwinter Workshop to deliver messages and supplies. Nothing incredibly remarkable but you're a kind person who keeps to themselves. Sampo thinks you and him could get along if you didn't hang around Gepard so often.

"Let me see..." Gepard mumbles and leans down closer to read the fine print before you turn your head to the side and plant a small kiss on his cheek. Despite the cute gesture, Gepard doesn't change or make any expression. He simply steps back into a polite distance, a hand coming up to loosen his collar as he clears his throat, before reprimanding you on workplace-appropriate jokes. You don't seem to take offense to his lack of response, just adorably hiding your smile behind your paper before waving goodbye to the Captain. Meanwhile, Sampo is coughing violently behind his fist because what the hell was that? So much build-up only for a lackluster ending? As a man of the dramatics, it's too much for him.

"Seriously, there's nothing fun about this guy," Sampo sighs, shrugging his shoulders as if to console himself. He's about to turn and leave but the rushed clinking of armor has him looking back at the Captain.

"Seriously..." Gepard mutters before hiding his face behind his hand. Even from this distance, Sampo can see how red the Captain's ears have gotten just from a simple cheek kiss.

Blade

Kafka thinks you're cute. Really cute.

Everyone in the Stellaron Hunters hides their true emotions behind multiple masks and it's refreshing to meet someone who wears their heart on their sleeve. Although it could also be because you're incredibly bad at hiding your feelings. Even if Kafka wasn't as skilled as she is with reading people, you do a piss poor job. Still, it's fun for her and that's the important part.

"Oh? Back so soon?" Kafka greets you as you step out of the alleyway. Even if your face isn't plastered across the Xianzhou like Kafka's and Blades, it wouldn't look good to be seen conversing with them. Plus you rather like being able to walk in broad daylight without the fear of the Cloud Knights chasing you down to slap some cuffs on you.

"Yes ma'am. We can depart when you're ready," you salute and she can't help but laugh at your cute mannerism. It makes you falter the slightest bit but you hold your pose.

"Good. Good. It must have been hard to pilot a ship so close to the Xianzhou without being detected. Especially given," she makes a gesture at Blade, "recent events."

You only nod at her hidden meaning before she's suddenly stepping into your personal space. You can only make a small noise before her arm is wrapped around your waist pulling you closer to her, and you pointedly ignore how her chest is pressed against yours, and her other hand raises your chin until your lips brush against hers. With her so close, she can see the pink in your cheeks growing and how tense your body is against hers. Your eyes dart from her down to her lip before catching yourself and instead looking behind her. It's cute.

"Would you like a reward?" she whispers next to your ear.

"Don't tease so much."

"Oh," Kafka blinks twice, turning her head to her companion as she lets go of your chin so she can press her fingertips against her mouth like one of those posh ladies when they find out about the latest gossip, "how out of character Bladie."

He doesn't dignify her with a response, just closes his eyes and goes back into his meditation. His face fell into that perfect stone that she could have imagined that he spoke. But those piercing eyes carving their way into her bones are unmistakable that even if they are closed, she still feels watched. But she relents and drops her arms around you before sending you off back to the ship. They'll join you soon.

"That's interesting," Kafka muses, she rolls her fingers as thin magenta strings appear before being flicked away with her wrist. Blade shouldn't be able to register anything but herself and yet, he seemed to notice you.

Jing Yuan

Yanqing has the sneaking suspicion that his General is sneaking off to slack off again. While he knows Jing Yuan is incredibly busy and he tends to do things discreetly, this getting far too strange. The General always has a complacent smile, but recently, it's been a tiny bit more genuine every time he waltzs in. For someone so tall, at least in Yanqing's opinion, he's able to slip past everyone and it's impossible to get in contact with him until he suddenly appears hours later. Yanqing would know, he's blasted the General's phone only to receive a cute emote and a "Surely my lieutenant is more than suitable for this, no?". Does it make Yanqing swell with so much pride that he forgets about Jing Yuan slacking off, maybe, but that's beside the point.

"General, what exactly are you doing in your... "off time"," Yanqing words slowly, unsure of what he was asking is considered a pry into Jing Yuan's personal life and if he will get upset with him.

"You're making it sound as if I'm doing something depraved during this "off time"," Jing Yuan chuckles at how fast Yanqing turns pink at his implications. Yanqing's hands quickly come up in a placating nature as he shakes his head so hard that his ponytail smacks against the wall.

"N-Not at all General! I was just curious- but you don't need to answer if it's something important!" Yanqing struggles through his words but luckily, Jing Yuan doesn't seem to take offense. If anything, he finds it amusing as he rubs Yanqing's head like an overactive puppy. It makes Yanqing huff and shoos away the offending hand before crossing his arms, expectantly waiting for an answer.

"It's not anything that needs to be kept as a secret. I'm simply taking a walk around Xianzhou to distress. You should take some time to do so as well, training every single day without a break will only lead to weary bones and stiff muscles," Jing Yuan advises which Yanqing nods carefully along to. Although Yanqing's eyes drift from the General's eyes to mouth, he seems more...softer around the edges? Even though he's the only one here, it looks like Jing Yuan is speaking to someone else through him.

"Are you sure you're not doing something indecent?" Yanqing deadpans to which the General laughs. He reaches over to ruffle his disciple's hair again before crossing them behind his back and walking ahead. Seriously, Yanqing thinks as he fixes his hair back into place, he can never get a good read on his General.

[byoldervine]

The Trick To Writing Filler

(TL;DR at the bottom)

Filler is when you spend a chapter padding the length of your story between plot-related events. Filler chapters have little to no impact on the overarching plot and can be self-contained, and thus in TV shows filler episodes are often reran the most as people unfamiliar with the show can casually watch without being confused without the knowledge of prior plot beats

So with the chapter being largely self-contained and acting outside of the plot, what do you use to make the filler chapter engaging? I’m going to use filler episodes from Avatar: The Last Airbender to provide examples

1. Worldbuilding. Zuko Alone depicts Zuko’s travels taking him through an Earth Kingdom village and becoming acquainted to the family that allows him to stay with them, especially their young son. He learns about what the Fire Nation’s impact on this village has been; destroyed houses, families torn apart, constant robbery and other abuses of power and injustices. And even after Zuko defends the villagers and his new friend, he’s venomously cast out from the village by even the little boy because he outed himself as a firebender. This episode explored the impact of the war on the people of the Earth Kingdom, the victims of war that have no involvement in it and no way of defending themselves from it

2. Character exploration. In The Beach, we learn more about Mai, Ty Lee, Azula and Zuko and how their own traumas and personal upbringings have impacted their personalities. For Zuko this is part of a turning point for him, but for the girls it’s more to understand why they are the people we’ve gotten to know over the seasons, especially Ty Lee and Mai. The episode also serves to showcase how Azula and Zuko are so out of place being just normal teenagers; Azula has no idea how to talk to her peers and no identity outside being Princess Azula of the Fire Nation, while Zuko’s hotheadedness and jealousy issues lead him to lash out and be far too confrontational and controlling for his own good. This episode isn’t really used to develop these characters, or at least not the girls, but instead explains and showcases their behaviours and the reasons behind them

3. Character development. Going back to The Beach, Zuko does indeed receive development rather than just character exploration like the girls do; he comes to understand that he’s not just angry at the world or angry in general, but angry with himself. This is a notable turning point for Zuko’s redemption arc, because he now understands fully that he truly regrets betraying Iroh and sacrificing his new start in life in favour of returning to the Fire Nation. He might not yet be fully decided on turning his back on Ozai, but without this moment I don’t know if he’d have gotten there, or at least not as quickly as he did

4. Relationship development. Sokka’s Master has a C plot of Aang, Katara and Toph all being rather bored and lost without Sokka’s presence. The A plot exploring Sokka’s feelings of inadequacy and uselessness in comparison to such powerful and formidable bending masters being contrasted with the Gaang unable to function without him already speaks volumes about their dynamics, but looking deeper into the C plot also shows how much value Sokka really does bring to the team; structure, planning, humour, a quick wit, strategic moves. The Gaang always supported Sokka and never seemed to view him as expendable outside of the occasional teasing, but having it acknowledged so clearly and plainly that they can feel a little aimless and flat without Sokka and being so delighted when he returns really shows us the kind of value Sokka brings to this team and brings us and the characters to further appreciate it

5. Downtime. The Ember Island Players depicts the characters taking a break to watch a comedic play based on their wacky adventures, only to be largely underwhelmed and displeased by how they’re portrayed. There are no stakes to this episode and barely any plot, just the Gaang taking a breather as they react to a bad play. This chance to relax and watch something inconsequential is just as important to the viewers as we’ve got the show’s finale in the next four episodes, which will be very plot-driven and intense. The Ember Island Players also has the additional viewer bonus of recapping the events of the show right before it all ends, giving the viewers time to reflect on the journey they’ve gone on with these characters. In order for the stakes to feel high and the tension to rise, there has to be downtime where there are low stakes and low tension; if things are intense all the time, the moments that are supposed to feel super intense will just feel average in comparison. Resetting that intensity right before such a big event while still acknowledging the looming threat coming soon will feel like the calm before the storm and allow your audience to soak it all up like the characters are

Wow, did I just go through all that without talking about Tales of Ba Sing Se? I’ll save that for another post if people are interested in more

TL;DR - filler provides a moment to breathe, reset the intensity levels the audience are experiencing and take a chance to step away from the external conflict (the overarching plot) in favour of worldbuilding and the characters within your setting. Small moments can amount to something big, and can help make large scale decisions or plot twists feel more build-up and in-character

[bloodreinasbathwater]

Plain & Simple

Nico Hischier X F!Reader (first love au)

a.n: I enjoyed writing this a little too much. the beginning may seem like its dragging on but let's be real, who wouldn't be stuck talking to Nico forever. also, Nico will be getting his own masterlist SOON.

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, flirting, not proofread, screaming, fuckboy Nico, eventual angst, eventual smut.

Word Count - 3,434

masterlist link

The air was filled with expectation, guests found their seats around the grand ballroom, their jewels glimmering under the dim, pale blue lighting that cast a serene ambiance over the opulent affair.

On the stage, a distinguished older gentleman with salt and pepper hair and a crisp tuxedo stood tall, commanding the attention of the well-heeled audience as he cleared his throat into the mic.

"Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his voice smooth and rich. “Welcome to the Gilded Gala, a celebration of our shared commitment to making the world a better place," he began, his voice rich and resonant.

"Tonight, The Jersey Devils and crew gather here to support a cause that is near and dear to all of our hearts – the well-being of our community's children of newark."

The guests nodded in agreement, the diamonds and sapphires adorning their necks and fingers catching the soft light as they shifted in their seats.

"Through your generosity, we have the power to transform lives, to provide the resources and opportunities that will allow our young ones to thrive and reach their full potential," the speaker continued, his gaze sweeping across the captivated crowd. "Together, we can be the pillars of hope that these children so desperately need."

As he spoke, the attendees leaned forward, their eyes shining with a newfound sense of purpose. The air was thick with a palpable energy, a shared desire to make a tangible difference in the world.

Y/N sat towards the back of the grand ballroom, at a smaller, vacant table near the bar. As the distinguished representative continued his impassioned speech on stage, Y/N yawned, lifting a delicate hand to politely cover her mouth.

Reaching back down to the crisp, white tablecloth in front of her, Y/N whisked her glass of water back into her hand, swishing the ice cubes around the cup absentmindedly. Her brow furrowed slightly as she took a sip, seemingly unimpressed by the grandiose nature of the Gilded Gala thus far.

Nico sat across the room, his eyes drifting around the grand ballroom, bored out of his mind by the proceedings on stage. As his gaze landed on the disinterested figure of Y/N towards the back of the hall, he couldn't help but steal a glance in her direction.

Casting a quick look at his teammates, Nico wondered if they had caught him eyeing up the oblivious girl. For a moment, he contemplated simply looking away, but Nico was not one to be so passive.

Clearing his throat, he turned to the group and mumbled some lame excuse to his friends, "Hey guys, I'm gonna go get a refill. You know how it is - gotta stay hydrated at these stuffy events." He quietly pushed his chair out and stood up.

With a casual wave, Nico sauntered away from his friends, his gaze fixed squarely on the disinterested young woman seated alone.

Adjusting his tie and smoothing a hand over his meticulously styled hair, Nico took a deep breath and began to walk over to Y/N's table, muttering some words of encouragement to himself as he went.

"Hi, I'm Nico," he purred, his voice thick with a heavy accent that Y/N couldn't quite place. Extending his hand, he offered her a confident smile. "And you are?"

"Y/N," she replied, looking Nico up and down appreciatively as she placed her smaller palm in his, returning his firm handshake. "Why do I recognize you?" he asked, still holding her hand.

The lights from the stage illuminated Nico's strong, chiseled features, and the intoxicating scent of his cologne wafted into her personal space.

"We work together," Y/N said confidently, meeting his intense gaze. "I work around the social media side of the Devils. Interviews and stuff. I don't think I've been told to interview you yet, but it's nice to finally meet you."

Nico's lips curled into a playful smirk as he held her hand, his thumb gently caressing the back of it. "Well, Y/N, I'm surprised we haven't crossed paths before," he purred, his voice low and sultry.

"I make it a point to get to know all the lovely ladies in my orbit." He leaned in slightly, his dark eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief.

"How long have you worked for the team?" Nico questioned, leaning in closer with what Y/N thought was feigned interest.

"It's only been a few months, maybe two," she replied, gesturing for him to sit down. "What brings you over here? Do you come here often?" she asked jokingly. Leaning back in her chair, Y/N studied Nico's features, taking in the sharp lines of his jaw and the warm brown of his eyes.

Nico chuckled and sat down next to her. "This is my first time actually at a Gala event. One of my teammates dragged me along to this," he admitted, pointing over to a few of his teammates standing by the bar, drinks in hand. "I'm pretty bored, honestly."

Y/N couldn't help but notice the way Nico's gaze lingered on her as she took a sip from her glass. There was something about him that intrigued her, though she couldn't quite put her finger on it just yet.

Leaning in slightly, Y/N crossed her legs and turned more towards Nico, her body language open and inviting. "So you said you do social media and interviews for the Devils?" he asked, his deep voice sending a subtle shiver down her spine.

"Yeah, stupid skits and whatnot," she replied, emphasizing the word 'actually'. "I like the idea of interviewing and making videos that you guys would actually enjoy. Some of you can be really funny underneath all that sweat and ice."

Nico chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "What, you think my on-ice interviews are bad?" he asked jokingly, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

Y/N nudged his shoulder playfully. "Not bad, they just lack," she admitted. "Like, Jack's interviews - couldn't pay me a million bucks to sit there and watch him be miserable. The fans should get to know the real you."

Nico chuckled at Y/N's playful nudge, caught off guard for a moment by the easy rapport that was developing between them. "So, you want me to be completely honest in one of your interviews? Is that what I'm hearing?" he asked, raising a playful eyebrow as he leaned back in his chair.

"Preferably, yes," Y/N admitted sheepishly, glancing back and forth between Nico and the speaker on stage. As she spoke, Nico's gaze dropped momentarily to her lips, and Y/N noticed the faint hint of a shy smile playing on his features.

Absently, he reached up to rub at the spot on his jaw where his facial hair used to be, the gesture somehow endearing. Around them, the speaker bid his farewell and stepped down, signaling the end of his monotone drawl.

Nico also turned his attention to the stage, waiting patiently as the audience erupted into applause. Once the speaker had stepped off the stage, he turned his focus back to Y/N, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Finally, now it's time for free drinks for the rest of the night," he joked, shifting his chair to face her more directly.

"I will happily indulge in that. Mind if I join you?"

Nico chuckled and looked away for a moment, pretending to ponder his response. "I suppose so," he said playfully. "But you'll owe me in return..."

Y/N couldn't help but smile at his teasing tone. "Deal," she replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Nico pushed out his chair and stood, offering Y/N his hand with a warm smile.

She accepted it without hesitation, and he held on to her fingers as he began to lead her over to the bar, stealing occasional glances at her as they walked.

Once they reached the bar, Y/N turned to the bartender. "Vodka sour, please," she requested politely. Glancing up at Nico, she added, "And he'll have...?"

"Uhh, a shot of whiskey, please," Nico chimed in, looking down at Y/N with an amused smile. He maintained his gentle grip on her hand as they waited for their drinks, savoring the close proximity and the charged energy that lingered between them.

"Whiskey, plain and simple," she mumbled under her breath with a smile, "I like that."

Y/N felt drawn to the confident way he carried himself, almost leaning against his broad shoulders as she looked up at him. "What can I say? I know what I like and I stick with it," Nico said with a playful shrug.

"Plain and simple is what you like?" Y/N asked, her tone subtly flirtatious.

Nico grinned and nodded. "Yeah. I like most things plain and simple," he explained. "I'm not a fan of all those fancy, fruity cocktails. Whiskey is my go-to, and I doubt I'll change my mind anytime soon."

"Mhmm," Y/N hummed, watching Nico curiously for a moment before glancing away. His sly smile widened as he noticed the way she was studying him, clearly intrigued.

"You look like you want to ask me something," Nico said, his voice low and inviting as he tried to read her expression.

Y/N felt a flush creep up her cheeks at being so transparently captivated by this charming stranger. Tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, she met his gaze boldly. "Maybe I do," she replied, her lips curving into a coy smile. "But I'm not sure you're ready for the questions I have in mind."

Nico's eyes sparkled with a hint of challenge. "Try me," he murmured, leaning in ever so slightly. The air between them crackled with palpable tension as they waited for their drinks, both eager to see where this flirtatious exchange might lead.

Y/N smiled coyly, pulling her hair away from her face as she spoke. "It'll have to be a question for another time," she admitted.

Nico raised an eyebrow, feigning frustration. "You're really gonna leave me guessing until later, are you?" he said, though the mischievous glint in his eye betrayed his true feelings.

"Guess you'll just have to ask me on a date if you wanna see me again so bad," Y/N retorted boldly, catching Nico momentarily off-guard. For a split second, his eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly composed himself, trying to hide just how flustered this entire interaction had made him.

"Is that what you want, then? A date?" Nico asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

Y/N met his gaze, unintimidated. "Yeah, that's what I want," she replied, a playful laugh escaping her as she saw his calm demeanor.

Nico took a step closer, his imposing presence sending a subtle thrill through Y/N. "And if I say I want the same thing? A date with you?" he asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.

Y/N felt a flutter of anticipation in her chest as he loomed over her. "Then I'd stop with all this teasing and say yes," she replied, her voice soft but confident.

…

Later that evening…

Y/N practically burst through the front door of her apartment, keys and purse flying everywhere as she stumbled inside. Placing a hand over her racing heart, she fought to contain the smile that threatened to spread across her face. Her body fell back against the door, and she had to stifle a giddy giggle.

"Oh my god," she breathed, her cheeks flushing with heat as a dull warmth blossomed in her chest. Heather, who was calmly standing in the hallway, jumped at the sudden commotion, watching her roommate with a perplexed expression.

Heather began to slowly back away, attempting to spare Y/N the embarrassment, but it was too late. Y/N's eyes flew open, and she spotted her friend.

"Heather!" Y/N cried, kicking off her heels and barreling towards her, grabbing her arms with a vice-like grip. Heather's pale skin reddened at the intensity of Y/N's grip.

A massive grin threatened to split her face as her cheeks flushed a deep crimson. "I can't even... I don't even know what to say!" Her eyes went wide with alarm as Y/N came barreling towards her, grabbing her arms with a vice-like grip.

"I met a guy, well, I know of him, but he came up to me!" Y/N practically yelled, her eyes wild and sparkling. "That guy, the one I've been telling you about forever - he actually came and talked to me! I told you I could pull him, and you didn't believe me, Heath!”

Heather's eyes widened in surprise, and a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Wait, wait, slow down!" she exclaimed, trying to pry Y/N's hands off of her. "What happened? Give me all the details!"

Y/N took a deep, shaky breath, her grin refusing to fade. "Okay, okay, so I was sitting there, right? Just minding my own business, and suddenly he just appears in front of me!" she recounted, her words tumbling out in a breathless rush.

"And he introduces himself, and he's even more gorgeous up close, Heath! And we talked, and he was so charming and funny and-"

She paused, letting out a high-pitched squeal that made Heather wince. "And he asked me on a date!" Y/N squealed, her grip on Heather's arms tightening once more. "Can you believe it? I told you I could do it, and I did!"

Heather's eyes widened even further, a mixture of shock and excitement washing over her features. "No way! You're serious?" she gasped, a wide smile finally breaking across her own face. "That's incredible, Y/N! I can't believe it!"

Y/N nodded emphatically, her grin practically ear-to-ear. "I know! I'm still shaking from it all," she admitted, finally releasing Heather's arms and bringing her hands up to cover her reddened cheeks. "It was just... oh my god, Heather. It was perfect."

 …

The incessant, piercing blare of the alarm clock shattered the tranquility of Y/N's slumber, ruthlessly ripping her from the fictional scenarios she had been indulging in.

Memories of her enchanting encounter with Nico the previous night had been dancing through her subconscious, a fictional narrative that she had been reluctant to let go of, even as the harsh realities of the waking world came crashing back.

Despite the mere 12 hours that had passed, she found herself giddily anticipating the potential of a future date with the charming athlete.

Jolting upright in bed, Y/N's eyes flew open, darting around the familiar confines of her bedroom. The soft, plush comforter pooled at her hips, momentarily disorienting her as she struggled to regain her bearings.

With a surge of energy, she flung the covers off, her feet hitting the cool hardwood floor as she rose from the comfort of her mattress.

Crossing the room, Y/N approached the imposing expanse of her closet, a contemplative hum escaping her lips as she began to mentally sift through her wardrobe options.

Tapping a finger against her chin, she examined the array of colors and textures, determined to craft the perfect ensemble for the day ahead.

Suddenly, the melodic chime of an incoming text message drew her attention to the nightstand, where her phone lay. Y/N felt her stomach flutter with excitement as she caught sight of Nico unsaved number displayed on the screen, her heart quickening its pace in response.

"Morning, what's your favorite coffee? I can grab you coffee after my morning run and meet you in the media room," the messages read, the words eliciting a surge of giddiness within her. Hastily, Y/N began to compose a reply, her fingers dancing across the touchscreen with a sense of urgency.

Yet, just as quickly as the initial excitement had bubbled up, she hesitated, a wave of uncertainty washing over her. Glancing at the time, she realized only a minute had passed since Nico's message had arrived.

Unwilling to risk appearing too eager or desperate, Y/N decided to wait a measured five minutes before responding, taking a deep, steadying breath as she forced herself to redirect her focus back to the task of selecting the perfect outfit.

A coy smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she immersed herself in the process, the prospect of spending more time with Nico fueling her determination to look her absolute best.

The dull, ebony hue of her heart had been ignited, a vibrant spark of anticipation and possibility now burning brightly within her chest.

…

The sleek, metal gate guarding the VIP parking lot slowly raised, the motorized mechanism whirring to life as Y/N's car approached. Gripping the steering wheel, she glided her vehicle through the open entrance, the tires crunching lightly against the asphalt.

She navigated the winding ramps, Y/N expertly maneuvered her car into an available spot towards the far end of the second floor.

Turning off the engine, she sat for a moment, taking a deep, steadying breath before reaching for the door handle. As she stepped out, the brush of her polished boots against the concrete echoed through the largely empty parking structure.

Y/N's brisk pace carried her with purpose towards the main entrance, a vibrant glow practically radiating from her being. The corners of her lips were turned up in a bright, beaming smile, as if she were practically bursting with joy and anticipation. "Morning," she greeted the security guard stationed at the x-ray checkpoint, her voice warm and cheery.

Passing through the security screening, Y/N entered the bustling facility, her eyes scanning the activity around her. A handful of players had already arrived, taking advantage of the early hour.

Some lingered by the expensive, gleaming coffee machine, chatting quietly amongst themselves, while others worked out in the nearby gym, the rhythmic thud of weights and the squeak of sneakers filling the air.

Weaving through the activity, Y/N made a beeline for the media room, the familiar place she called her workplace. Nico was nowhere to be seen, so she plopped down at her desk, her fingers flying across the sleek computer's keyboard as she hastily logged into the system.

Glancing down at her watch, Y/N noted that nearly five minutes had passed since her arrival. Huffing out a soft breath of frustration, she pulled back the delicate fabric of her long sleeve, her eyes fixed intently on the timepiece, silently willing a text from Nico to appear.

Suddenly, a pair of strong arms appeared in her peripheral vision, placing a pristine white coffee cup directly in front of her. Y/N's head snapped up, her heart racing with anticipation as she turned to face the source of this unexpected gesture.

"Come here often?" Nico joked, stepping back from the polished wood desk and allowing Y/N a better view of him. His typically styled hair seemed a touch messier today, the longer strands at the top falling in a rather endearing way across his forehead.

Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat at the sight of him. "Only when the captain's around," she flirted back, pushing her chair away from the table and turning to face him more fully. She was utterly transfixed by the way his tight-fitting compression shirt did little to conceal the toned musculature of his arms.

Feeling suddenly self-conscious under his gaze, Y/N looked away, biting coyly at her lower lip.

Nico chuckled, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a playful smirk. "Der Kapitän kann es kaum erwarten, dich auszuführen," he said in rapid German, his deep voice rumbling with amusement.

Y/N blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the foreign words. "What did you say?" she asked, her brow furrowed in curiosity.

Nico's smile widened as he repeated the phrase in English. "I said, 'The captain can't wait to take you out,'" he translated, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief.

Y/N felt a flush creep up her cheeks at his bold statement. She ducked her head shyly, her lips curling into a coy smile. "Is that so?" she murmured, peeking up at him from beneath her lashes.

Nico chuckled, taking a step closer to her desk. "Well, I certainly hope so," he replied, his voice low and inviting. "After all, I've been looking forward to getting to know you better."

Y/N's heart quickened its pace as he leaned in, the fresh scent of his cologne enveloping her. She clutched the coffee cup in her hands, taking a steadying sip as she met his intense gaze.

"I have to say, the feeling is mutual," she admitted, her tone equally flirtatious. The air between them crackled with palpable tension, and Y/N found herself utterly captivated by this charming stranger.

Oh yeah, she could get used to this.

…

Tag List <3

EMPTY