#but the anxiety of making a phone call? calling in sick to work? missing out on pay??? sounds just as stressful as dealing with customers

[nerdie-faerie]

The temptation to call in sick rather than dealing with customers when I'm a little under the weather vs not wanting to deal with the stress of making a call to work about being sick

[gyutopia]

temptation | lee heeseung pt 2

⟶ summary: having just completed your graduate work in psychotherapy, you’re eager to begin a career as a marriage counselor. you land a job as a counselor at a matchmaking firm for millionaires and meet heeseung, a charismatic client who makes no effort to hide his attraction to you. the only catch is...he’s engaged.

˗ˏˋpairing: billionaire!heeseung x f!reader ❀ genre: marriage counselor au ❀ word count: 19.0k ❀ staring: chisa (22)- xg, yunho(23)- ateez, jaehyun(22)- bnd, heeseung (23) + jake (22) + jay (22) + sunghoon (22)- enhypen, sakura (24)- le sserafim, karina (24)- aespa, danielle (20)- new jeans. ⟶ warnings:mentions of anxiety and depression, therapy speak, lots of swearing, cheating, soft dom!hee, sub!reader, oral (f + m receiving), p in v intercourse, protected sex, dirty talk, praise, brief breast play, fingering, vanillaish sex, slight body worship, talk about childhood trauma, consumption of alcohol, mentions of abortion (not reader), invasion of privacy, inappropriate relationship dynamics, talk of assisted living, mention of a suicide attempt, allusions of starving yourself, mentions of anti- depressants, vague talk of ptsd, mentions of verbal abuse, heeseung doesn’t have good parents, physical altercation, online bullying (knets have a field day with u), heeseung is v insecure and has some emotional trauma. please let me know if i’ve missed anything!

✎୭: the full version, uninterrupted can be found on my ao3 here. thank you so much for reading this monster of a fic! i love and appreciate every single one of you!

SATURDAY FEBRUARY 22ND, 2025

It’s been a week since the kiss. A week since everything spiraled out of control.

You’ve been rotting away in your bed, hidden beneath blankets like a child hiding from monsters only this time, the monster isn’t under your bed—it’s in your chest, clawing at your heart every time you think about him.

The first thing you did the morning after was log into your work account and cash in some of your sick days. You needed a way to avoid the office, a way to avoid him. Dani emailed you a few small assignments, things you could complete from home so it was easy to play the role of someone mildly under the weather. A few sniffles over the phone and vague mentions of a stomach bug and Miss Min didn’t even question it.

Sakura still being in Japan has worked to your advantage. With her busy filming schedule, the usual meetings and updates have been sparse. Miss Min has been surprisingly lenient, perhaps assuming that you’re taking this time to recover before things pick up again.

But you’re not recovering. If anything, you’re unraveling.

You haven’t stepped out of your apartment in days, let alone made an attempt to eat properly or take care of yourself. The bare minimum—replying to work emails and completing small tasks—is the only thing tethering you to reality.

You know you’re running out of time. Eventually, Miss Min will expect you back in the office and when that day comes, you’ll have no choice but to face the truth. You’ll have to tell her to reassign Heeseung and Sakura’s case to someone else.

The thought of it paralyzes you. Once you remove yourself, that’s it. You’ll have no reason to see him anymore. No excuse to hear his voice or watch the way he absentmindedly taps his pen against the desk during meetings. No more pretending that you’re just doing your job when deep down, you know you’ve already failed at keeping your feelings in check.

Heeseung hasn’t reached out. Not once. No calls, no texts, no emails. Nothing.

It shouldn’t hurt this much. You’re the one who left his home without a word, too embarrassed to face what you’d done. You’re the one who’s been avoiding him like the plague hoping that the distance will make it easier to let go. But his silence feels like a confirmation of your worst fear—that he regrets everything.

The memory of that night replays in your mind on a loop. The way his lips felt against yours, the way he held you, the way he took care of you.

It’s torture, and you’ve trapped yourself in it.

Your friends have noticed, of course. How could they not?

It started with Yunho.

He texted a few days ago, saying he’d made a big batch of jjajangmyeon and that you should come over for dinner. Normally, you’d jump at the chance to eat anything Yunho cooked—he has a talent for cooking. But you declined claiming you weren’t feeling well.

His reply was immediate. 

5:25pm | yuyu💫: u never turn down food…are you sure ur okay?

You typed out a response. Deleted it. Typed out another. Deleted that one too. Finally, you settled on:

5:36 pm | you: i’m fine. just tired. thanks for the offer.

Then there was Jaehyun.

He called the following evening, his tone light and casual. “Hey, want to grab drinks after my shift? It’s been a while since we caught up.”

Normally, you’d agree in a heartbeat. Jaehyun’s presence was easy and comforting, and nights out with him always left you feeling lighter but the thought of facing anyone, even someone as laid-back as Jaehyun, felt impossible.

“I’m not in the mood,” you said, your voice quieter than usual.

“Not in the mood for drinks?” he repeated, his tone disbelieving. “Since when?”

You forced a weak laugh. “Rain check?”

He didn’t press, but the concern in his voice lingered long after the call ended.

Finally, there was Chisa.

She didn’t bother with subtlety. One afternoon, she stormed into your room, keys in hand. “Get dressed,” she said firmly. “We’re going to the mall.”

You blinked at her from your cocoon of blankets, confused and slightly annoyed. “I’m good,” you muttered, burrowing deeper into your bed.

“I’ll buy you makeup,” she added, a note of bribery in her voice. “Whatever you want.”

Normally, you’d jump at the offer. You loved makeup, and free makeup was even better. But the idea of standing under bright store lights, pretending to be okay, was unbearable.

“I already have more than enough makeup,” you said, turning away.

Chisa didn’t argue. She just stood there for a moment, watching you with an expression that made your chest ache, before leaving the room without another word.

That was two days ago. It’s now past midday and you’re still in bed. The room is dark, save for the faint light filtering through the curtains. Your stomach growls but you don’t have the energy to cook let alone eat.

You’re about to close your eyes again when the door to your room bursts open.

“What the—?” You sit up abruptly, squinting against the sudden intrusion.

Your friends stand in the doorway, each of them wearing expressions ranging from concern to frustration.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your voice hoarse from disuse.

Jaehyun strides forward without answering, grabbing the edge of your blanket.

“Jaehyun!” you protest, clutching the fabric tightly. “What are you doing?”

“Taking care of you since you clearly can’t do it yourself,” he snaps, his voice sharper than you’re used to.

“Stop it!” You tug back on the blanket, growing annoyed but Jaehyun doesn’t let go.

“Hey, hey,” Yunho interjects, stepping between the two of you. “Let’s all calm down.” He turns to you, his voice softer. “We’re just worried about you. You haven’t seemed like yourself lately.”

You sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I’m fine, just—”

“Sick,” Chisa interrupts, crossing her arms. “Yeah, we know. That’s what you want us to believe.”

Jaehyun scoffs. “You rarely missed a day of class in college, even if you were sick so excuse me if we’re not buying that excuse this time.”

You stare at them blankly unsure of how to respond.

Chisa steps closer, kneeling in front of you. Her voice is gentle as she says, “We’re just worried about you, ____. This isn’t… normal. Please, just tell us what’s going on so we can help.”

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away. “I just needed a week off. I’ll be okay.”

Yunho sits beside you on the bed, his presence warm. “We can’t force you to talk about something you’re clearly not ready to share,” he says. “But at least let us help you.”

Jaehyun sighs, his frustration melting as he sees the tears threatening to fall. “We don’t have to talk about it. We can just order takeout and binge-watch early 2000s shows… just stop icing us out. Please. We love you and want to help you.”

The dam breaks.

You start crying, the sound raw and unrestrained. Your friends don’t say anything—they just surround you, pulling you into a group hug.

Yunho is the first to pull away, sniffling quietly as he stands. “I’ll order the food,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.

Jaehyun follows, mumbling something about not wanting to cry in front of you.

Chisa stays, holding you until your sobs subside. She rubs your back soothingly and says, “Whatever it is, know that you’ll overcome it.”

You nod weakly, more out of instinct than belief. Deep down, you don’t think you’ll overcome this—not when “this” is Lee Heeseung. How could you possibly move on from him?

You don’t think you’ve ever felt this way about anyone before. It’s not just the heartbreak—it’s the way he made you feel so seen. You’ve spent so much of your life hiding parts of yourself, keeping your scars neatly tucked away but Heeseung made it feel safe to let them show.

Most people don’t know why you became a marriage counselor. You’ve always lied whenever the question came up, saying you “just love love,” but the truth is messier and darker. Your father’s infidelity, your mother’s quiet suffering and your own helplessness in the face of it all shaped you. You wanted to help people in ways you couldn’t help her. But it’s not something you ever talk about—not until Heeseung.

He was the first person outside of your friends whom you willingly opened up to. The first person you wanted to open up to. And when you did, his response wasn’t pity or judgment. It was understanding. He didn’t tell you to move on or let it go. He simply listened, offering quiet reassurances. His words didn’t just soothe your present self…they reached that fractured little girl you used to be, the one who just wanted someone to tell her it wasn’t her fault.

And Heeseung… he understood because he’d been there too. Despite living in the aftermath of his brother’s attempted suicide, enduring his father’s suffocating demands and his mother’s overbearing love, he hadn’t become some cold-hearted monster. He had every reason to, but he didn’t.

Sure, he has his flaws. He’s scared of vulnerability, keeps people at arm’s length and hides behind a playboy persona. But you see through it—it’s all armor. He doesn’t want people to see the cracks, to know he has weaknesses they could exploit. And yet with you, he tore all those walls down. He let you see the version of himself that never got to exist when he was younger.

The version he even hides now.

You’d give anything to make sure he’s never hurt again. To ensure he never has to hide or water himself down. To guarantee he can just be himself—happy, unburdened and free. But you can’t.

Because you’re not from his world. You’re not the person he’s supposed to choose. And even if you were, some part of you thinks this love—this all-consuming love—might be too much. Too much for Heeseung.

But not because he doesn’t deserve it. No, Heeseung deserves the kind of love that heals, that lets him breathe, that doesn’t ask for anything he can’t give. But it’s the weight of it, the enormity of what it would mean to truly care for someone like him that gives you pause.

You haven’t forgotten about him forcing his ex-girlfriend to get an abortion, it’s stuck with you since you overheard it. You never brought it up, never asked Heeseung to clarify but it lingers. It colors how you see him, even if you don’t want it to. You don’t believe Heeseung is the kind of man who would demand something so cruel, so selfish but the seed of doubt is there. And it terrifies you.

Because if you’re wrong, if he really did that, what does that say about him? About you for wanting to believe in him so badly?

But even without knowing the truth, you can feel how carefully Heeseung treads around the idea of vulnerability. It’s in the way he deflects, the way he keeps people at a distance, the way his sharp words mask the pain he doesn’t think anyone notices. Loving someone like that would require patience…endless patience and you’re not sure if even that would be enough.

Heeseung doesn’t halfass anything, he said so himself. He doesn’t know how to. If he let himself fall for you, it would be all-encompassing. Consuming. He would give you everything he has, every vulnerable piece of himself he’s spent years hiding away. And that’s what scares you. Not that he wouldn’t love you enough, but that he’d love you too much.

That kind of love comes with expectations, with vulnerabilities Heeseung might not be ready to face. It’s one thing for him to care for someone in theory, to keep his emotions safely compartmentalized, but to truly open himself up? To risk that kind of pain again? You’re not sure he can.

And then there’s the other part, the part you don’t want to admit even to yourself: what if it’s not enough? What if you’re not enough? What if he gives you everything and you still can’t reach him? What if the walls he’s built are so strong that even love can’t break them down?

So you hesitate. Not because you don’t want him, but because you do. Because the thought of not being enough for him is unbearable.

You lean into Chisa’s embrace, letting the tears spill over again silent now but no less heavy. The weight of it all, the longing, the guilt, the hopelessness—feels unbearable.

You don’t think you’ll ever overcome Lee Heeseung.

Chisa helps you out of bed and into the living room, where Yunho pats the spot next to him on the couch. You sit between him and Chisa, feeling their warmth on either side.

Chisa boots up the TV, scrolling through the options. “How far away is the food?” she asks.

“Another twenty minutes,” Yunho replies, checking his phone.

Jaehyun comes into the living room, handing you a bottle of water. You smile softly and thank him. He nods, taking a seat beside Yunho.

Chisa selects That’s So Raven and hits play. As the theme song fills the room, you glance around at your friends, your heart swelling with gratitude.

You don’t deserve them.

But as you sit there, surrounded by their love and support, you realize you can’t keep this from them forever. You’ll tell them about Heeseung—once you’ve removed yourself from the case.

For now, you let yourself enjoy the moment knowing it might be the last bit of peace you have before everything falls apart again.

THAT SAME DAY ON THE OTHER SIDE OF TOWN

The ball bounces high off the court, cutting cleanly through the crisp afternoon air. Jay slams it back toward Jake and Heeseung’s side with enough force to make Jake grunt, barely managing to return it. It ricochets toward Heeseung—his racket is raised and ready, but his reaction time is too slow. The ball whizzes past him, landing well within the lines.

Jay pumps his fist triumphantly. “Another point for us!”

Jake groans, marching toward Heeseung with his racket pointed accusingly. “Yah! What’s wrong with you? We’re losing!” His aussie accent is stronger than ever, laced with the kind of playful exasperation only a best friend can get away with.

Jay and Sunghoon dissolve into laughter at Jake’s fiery outburst. It’s Sunghoon’s first time joining their tennis matches—Jake had invited him earlier that week, saying, “He fits the vibe, trust me.” And so far, Sunghoon had been keeping up, much to Jay’s delight and Jake’s annoyance.

“Sorry,” Heeseung mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “My head’s… everywhere today.”

“Yeah well get it together!” Jake huffs, gesturing dramatically with his racket. “We’re not losing to these two.”

“Hey!” Jay protests, offended. “These two are crushing you.”

Sunghoon smirks as he twirls his racket. “Not my fault Heeseung’s got his head in the clouds.”

Jake groans, pushing Heeseung toward his side of the court. “Come on man! Get out of your head and play!”

Heeseung exhales heavily, adjusting his stance to serve. He tosses the ball into the air, his focus sharpening as he swings his racket. The ball zips across the net, hitting the opposite side perfectly.

As the game resumes, Heeseung speaks, his voice low but clear: “I made out with my therapist.”

Jay misses his swing completely, the ball bouncing away. Sunghoon whistles in surprise. Jake freezes, staring at Heeseung like he’s grown a second head.

“You what?” Jake finally blurts out.

Heeseung shrugs, keeping his expression neutral even as a knot tightens in his chest. “You heard me.”

Sunghoon fiddles with his racket, clearly intrigued. “Well, this just got interesting.”

Jake recovers first, shaking his head. “Wait, wait. Back up. How did that happen?”

Heeseung exhales, running a hand through his hair. “It’s a long story.”

“We’ve got time,” Jay says, walking over to grab the ball.

Heeseung hesitates, but when he sees the curiosity—and concern—in their faces, he decides to tell them everything. “Okay, so you know how my parents forced me to go to that matchmaking firm?”

Jay snorts. “Forced is putting it lightly.”

“Exactly,” Heeseung mutters. “They were tired of the tabloids making me look like a… well, you know.”

“A whore,” Jake supplies helpfully.

“Thank you, Jake,” Heeseung says dryly before continuing. “Anyway, I wasn’t taking it seriously at first. But then I met her—____. She’s one of their counselors. The minute I walked into that consultation room and saw her…” He pauses, the memory of that moment flickering in his mind. “She wasn’t like anyone I’d ever met. She was professional but kind. She didn’t look at me like I was some project to fix. Didn’t associate me with what the news was saying….she just… listened.”

Jay raises an eyebrow. “Listened?”

“Yeah.” Heeseung nods. “Like, really listened. I don’t think anyone’s ever done that before. Not the way she did.”

The game pauses as the four of them linger on Heeseung’s words. Jake twists his racket, visibly intrigued. “So, what happened?”

Heeseung shifts uncomfortably. “We had dinner last week…don’t ask…She didn’t judge me. Didn’t push. We talked about everything—work, family, life… even stuff I don’t usually talk about…like Heejoon.”

Sunghoon frowns. “Who’s Heejoon?”

Heeseung hesitates before explaining, “My brother. He lives in an assisted living facility.” His voice is quieter now, tinged with a sadness he doesn’t often show.

Jake and Jay exchange a look. They’ve known about Heejoon for years but they also know how rarely Heeseung brings him up.

“She didn’t pry,” Heeseung continues. “She just… let me talk. And when I didn’t want to talk, she let me sit in silence. Do you know how rare that is?”

Jake whistles softly. “Sounds like she really gets you.”

“Yeah,” Heeseung says, almost to himself. “She does.”

Jay watches him closely, his expression thoughtful. “It sounds like you like her.”

Heeseung’s grip tightens on the racket, his jaw clenching. The idea strikes a nerve, one he’s not ready to confront. He tried to ignore his feelings when they first started surfacing—during that one-on-one meeting at the hotel bar.

He brushed it off as professional interest, convinced himself it was just admiration for your work. But then you started slipping into his thoughts more often than he liked to admit.

And now, standing with his friends on this tennis court, the reality of it feels inescapable.

He doesn’t want to like you. The idea terrifies him. Liking you would mean opening himself up and he’s learned the hard way what happens when he lets someone in. Vulnerability is a risk he’s not sure he’s willing to take again. It’s safer to keep things on the surface, where emotions can’t dig too deep, where people can’t get close enough to hurt him.

But this… this feels different.

The way you listen to him without judgment, the way you genuinely seem to care—it’s unlike anything he’s experienced in years. You don’t expect him to be the perfect son, the unshakable CEO, or the carefree charmer everyone else sees. You let him be Heeseung—messy, flawed, and real. And somehow, that’s scarier than anything else.

"I don’t like her," Heeseung replies, his tone sharper than he intended. "It’s not like that."

Jay shrugs, setting up another serve. "Hate the message, not the messenger."

The ball flies across the net, but the tension remains. Jake eventually breaks the silence. "Okay, but Jay’s right. This is the most attention we’ve seen you willingly give someone since... well, you know." He stops abruptly, glancing at Jay as the ball falls flat in front of Sunghoon.

Jay glares. “Don’t.”

“What?” Jake says innocently. “I didn’t say her name.”

Sunghoon frowns, looking between them. “Who are we talking about?”

Heeseung exhales heavily, his shoulders sagging. "You can say her name. It’s not the end of the world."

Jake takes it upon himself to explain, filling Sunghoon in as they continue their game. "Heeseung dated this girl, Karina, back in college. She was the first person who got through to him during his...experimental phase." He dodges a stray ball from Heeseung before continuing. "He actually wanted to be monogamous with her."

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, surprised. Jay adds, "Shocking, I know."

Sunghoon serves, the ball whizzing over the net. "So, what happened?"

Heeseung remains silent, his jaw tightening. Jake picks up where he left off. "Heeseung was still... figuring things out and Karina got self-conscious about all the attention their relationship got."

Jay continues, his tone more measured. “It wasn’t just the attention. Karina was…insecure. Heseung was the only person she had ever been with, but she wasn’t his first anything. All those other girls he’d been with? It got in her head. She started wondering if she was good enough.”

Sunghoon nods slowly. “So what, she wanted a break?”

“Yeah,” Jay says. “She said she needed to figure out what she really wanted. Heeseung knew what that meant but he didn’t think she’d actually sleep with someone else.”

Jake takes over, his tone blunt. “She got pregnant by another guy.”

Sunghoon’s jaw drops. “Seriously?”

Jay snickers. “And lover boy over there,” he tilts his head in Heeseungs direction as he prepares to serve,  “didn’t care, he offered to help her raise the baby.”

Jake bursts out laughing, striking the ball back. “The dad that stepped up!”

Heeseung rolls his eyes. “Very funny.”

Sunghoon studies him quietly. “So… what happened?”

“She said it wouldn’t be fair to me,” Heeseung says quietly. “That I deserved more than being tied down to someone else’s mistake. So we ended things.”

Jake adds, “But her friends didn’t see it that way. They told everyone Heeseung dumped her because she wouldn’t get an abortion. People thought the baby was his. Karina transferred schools to get away from the mess.”

Sunghoon whistles, shaking his head. “That’s… a lot.”

“Yeah,” Jake says. “We had to pick up the mess she left behind. Heeseung was a wreck.”

Jay nods. "It was a mess. Heeseung didn’t bother correcting the narrative. He figured it was better to let people hate him if it meant they’d leave Karina alone."

Heeseung fixes his gaze on Jay’s new serve but his mind is far away. Jake’s words echo in his head dredging up memories he’s tried to bury.

It all started so innocently. Karina had crashed into him in the hallway outside their dorm rooms, her lab manual and papers went flying across the floor. She was in such a rush, barely looking at him as she muttered a quick “sorry” and darted off after Heeseung helped pick up her notes. He’d laughed it off at the time, figuring she was just another busy college student.

But then he started noticing her more. She was his next-door neighbor after all. He saw her leaving for early classes, hair in a messy ponytail, coffee cup in hand. He caught glimpses of her in the common areas, always with her head buried in a textbook or her laptop.

The first real conversation they had was late one night when he came back from a party. She was in the dorm lounge, slumped over her laptop, tears streaming down her face. He didn’t even know why he’d stopped—normally, he would’ve just kept walking. But something about the way she looked so defeated and alone made him pause.

He found out she was locked out of her room, freezing, starving, and overwhelmed by a cell bio lab report she had no idea how to write. Heeseung hadn’t planned to stay. He told himself he was just being nice when he ordered Mexican food for them and offered up his room for her to work in. But as the hours passed, as he stayed up helping her find sources and cracking jokes to make her laugh, something shifted.

That night, he realized he wanted to see her again. And he did—again and again. Their friendship grew and somewhere along the way he fell for her. Hard.

He didn’t even notice at first. It wasn’t one big moment, but a series of small ones: the way she’d scrunch her nose when she was concentrating, how her laughter lit up a room, the way she listened when he talked, like he was the most interesting person in the world. Heeseung started skipping parties, hanging out with her instead. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel the need to impress anyone or put on a front. He could just be himself.

When they started dating, it felt like a dream. But dreams don’t last.

Karina wasn’t like him—she wasn’t used to the attention, the whispers, the gossip. His past flings made it worse, their snarky comments and passive-aggressive stares feeding her insecurities. He tried to reassure her, to show her she was the only one who mattered, but it wasn’t enough.

When she asked for a break Heeseung gave her space even though it tore him apart. He told himself she’d come back, that they’d work things out. Heeseung still remembers the night she told him. She’d shown up at his door, tears in her eyes, her hands shaking. He thought she was there to reconcile, to tell him she was ready to try again. Instead, she told him about the baby.

He could’ve walked away. A part of him wanted to. But the love he felt for her, the kind that makes you want to stay even when it hurts—kept him rooted in place.

Heeseung argued and pleaded but she wouldn’t budge. She told him she loved him too much to let him sacrifice his future for her mistakes.

When the rumors started—that the baby was his and he’d dumped her because she wouldn’t get an abortion—Heeseung didn’t correct them. What was the point?

She transferred schools soon after, and that was the end of it. The end of them.

Heeseung exhales sharply, his chest stinging at the memory. He’s not in love with Karina anymore, he knows that. But what they had, how it ended, left scars he’s still dealing with.

She was his first love, the first person he let himself be vulnerable with and she left.

Now, the idea of letting someone in like that again terrifies him. What if they leave too? What if he’s not enough?

Sunghoon glances at Heeseung, who is unusually quiet. The tabloids had painted a picture of him as a careless playboy, but this version of Heeseung—reserved, contemplative—didn’t fit that image. As Heeseung serves again, Sunghoon’s perspective shifts. Heeseung isn’t aloof; he’s guarded, carrying the weight of past scars and unspoken emotions.

“Point is,” Jay finally says, breaking the silence, “you deserve to be happy, Heeseung. And it sounds like this girl—____, makes you happy. Maybe it’s worth giving it a shot.”

Heeseung’s grip on his racket tightens, his gaze distant. “I know. But that’s what scares me.”

Jay frowns. “Why?”

Heeseung hesitates, then sighs. “Because people like her don’t exist in my world. Genuine, kind… It’s easier to push her away than risk losing her.”

The silence stretches between them as the weight of his words settles.

Jake tilts his head, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “What’s worse? Losing her because you didn’t try, or losing her after you gave it your all?”

Jay nods, his expression softening. “Whatever makes you happy, man. You’ve spent years doing what everyone else wants. Maybe it’s time to focus on what you want. You deserve to be happy.”

Heeseung looks at Jay, his jaw clenching as he processes his friend’s words. He knows they’re right. They always are. But admitting what he wants—admitting that he wants you—is the hardest part.

Sunghoon, who has been quietly observing, finally speaks. “You should go for it, man. You’re right, there aren’t a lot of genuine people in our world but it sounds like you’ve found someone who cares about you...why pass that up?”

Jake grins, the humor creeping back into his tone. “Plus, she’s a therapist. I’m sure she can help you sort through those deep-seated mommy and daddy issues.”

Heeseung snorts, shaking his head. “Fuck off.”

As they pack up their equipment, Heeseung lingers, his mind replaying the events of the past week. The kiss, the way you’d looked at him, the vulnerability in your eyes—it had all felt so real. But the morning after, you were gone. No explanation, no goodbye. Just... gone.

He remembers waking up, hoping to talk things out, to figure out what the kiss meant for both of you. He’d wanted to kiss you again, to tell you that he didn’t regret it. But your absence had said it all. You regretted it. You didn’t want him.

That’s why he hadn’t reached out. He’d convinced himself that you needed space, that pushing you would only make things worse. But now, after hearing his friends, he’s starting to question that logic. Maybe he’s been using your disappearance as an excuse to protect himself. Maybe it’s time to take a risk.

As the sun sets, Heeseung sits in his car, gripping the steering wheel tightly. The echoes of Jay’s words ring in his ears: "You deserve to be happy."

For the first time in days, he pulls out his phone, his fingers hovering over your contact. His heart pounds as he considers what to say, what to do. He doesn’t call—not yet—but the decision is made. He’s going to reach out. He’s going to try.

Because Jay is right: he deserves to be happy, and maybe you’re the person who can help him find that happiness.

MONDAY FEBRUARY 24TH, 2025

You’re standing in front of the glass doors to your office building clutching your bag with both hands as if it might slip away and drag you with it. The week you took off feels like a fever dream now—blurry and surreal but undeniably real in the toll it’s taken on your body and mind. You’ve barely slept, barely eaten, and every fiber of your being wants to turn around and leave. But you can’t.

You exhale shakily, willing your feet to move. The lobby is bustling as usual—faces you don’t recognize weaving in and out, some rushing to catch elevators, others lingering by the café for their first caffeine hit of the day.

For a moment, you imagine Jaehyun here, waiting in the corner like he offered. He had insisted on accompanying you today, his day off but you turned him down. “I’ll be fine,” you’d said, more to convince yourself than him. The truth is, you don’t feel fine. Not even close.

Your resolve wavers as you step into the elevator, but you clutch your bag tighter and remind yourself of your plan. Drop off your things, go straight to Miss Min and request to be removed from the case. That’s it. That’s all you have to do. You don’t have any sessions today so you’re free to do paperwork in the comfort of your office alone.

The elevator dings, the doors sliding open to reveal the familiar hallway. Your heart pounds harder with each step, dread clawing at your chest.

The firm feels unfamiliar after just a week away. You round the corner to your office but stop dead in your tracks.

Sakura is standing there, waiting for you. The sight of her sends your heart plummeting into your stomach.

Her outfit is immaculate as always, a Dior top tucked into high-waisted jeans, a fluffy tote bag slung over one shoulder. She looks stunning, almost as if she just stepped out of a magazine spread.

What is she doing here?

You don’t have a scheduled meeting with her today and the possibilities racing through your mind only make the anxiety worse. Did Heeseung tell her about the kiss? Is she here to confront you?

You swallow hard and force a polite smile, hoping it doesn’t look as strained as it feels. “Sakura, hi. What brings you here?”

Her smile is warm and genuine, completely disarming. “I finally found an opening in my schedule,” she says. “I know it’s last minute and I’m sorry but I really wanted to have that one-on-one time with you.”

Your heart sinks further.

Oh.

She’s not here to accuse you of anything. She’s here because she thinks you’re someone she can trust.

Staring into her kind eyes feels unbearable knowing what you’ve done.

“Oh, um…” You hesitate, glancing at the door to your office. “Actually, I don’t… I can’t today. I’m sorry. I don’t have time.”

You try to sidestep her, desperate to escape into the relative safety of your office but Sakura gently places a hand on your arm, stopping you.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly, her tone almost pleading. “I really don’t mean to impose, but this is my only free day off. Please?”

There’s something so sincere in her voice, something that twists the knife of guilt even deeper. You have no right to deny her this. It’s quite literally the least you could do.

You nod reluctantly, forcing a small smile. “Okay. What did you have in mind?”

Sakura’s face lights up as she lifts her tote bag slightly. “Crocheting! I brought some of my materials.”

You smile softly remembering her mentioning it was a hobby of hers. “Crocheting?”

“Yeah!” she says, her excitement palpable. “I thought it might be a fun way for us to spend time together.”

“Sure,” you say quietly, nodding toward your office. “We can work in here. We’ll have it to ourselves.”

You lead her inside, offering her the seat across from your desk. She immediately starts unpacking her supplies—rolls of yarn in soft pastels, a variety of hooks, and a pattern book.

“Have you ever crocheted before?” she asks, glancing up at you with a smile.

You shake your head. “No, never.”

Sakura grins. “Perfect. I’ll teach you the basics.”

She’s patient as she explains each step, showing you how to hold the hook and yarn, how to make a simple chain. Her enthusiasm is infectious and for a brief moment you almost forget the fact that you kissed her fiancée.

When she hands you a pattern she’s already started—a small flower, you thank her and begin carefully following her instructions. Meanwhile, she starts on a new project.

“What are you making?” you ask after a while, glancing at the soft gray yarn in her hands.

“A scarf,” she says, her voice light. “It’s getting colder, and I want Heeseung to stay warm.”

Your hands falter, the hook slipping from your fingers. You force yourself to recover quickly, pretending to focus on the flower in your lap.

“Do you…” You hesitate, your voice barely above a whisper. “Do you have feelings for him?”

Sakura blushes, her fingers pausing for a moment before resuming their work. “I know it probably sounds stupid because, well, why would the ‘perfect princess’ want the messed-up playboy?”

She sighs, her voice soft and contemplative. “I don’t know. I can’t help but like him.”

You nod slowly, understanding all too well how easy it is to fall for Heeseung, especially when he lets his guard down.

“You don’t have to rationalize why you like him,” you say quietly.

Sakura smiles faintly, her gaze focused on her work. “I see myself in him, you know? Spending your whole life in the spotlight…it forces you to become someone else. I see that with Heeseung. He hides so much of himself but I know there’s more to him than what he lets people see.”

You nod again, unsure of what to say. The conversation feels like walking a tightrope.

Sakura continues, her voice softer now. “I think he’s very guarded. He keeps me at a distance but I believe if we keep working with you, he’ll learn to open up. He can be a good husband, I know he can.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. You have no doubt either that Heeseung would make an amazing husband. You swallow the lump in your throat and force a small smile. “You’re…good at seeing the best in people.”

She looks up at you, her expression thoughtful. “Do you think that’s a bad thing?”

“No,” you say quickly looking back at the flower. “But…do you think you like him for who he is now, or for who you think he could be?”

Sakura tilts her head, considering your question. “Can’t it be both? Can’t I like him and also want to help him become the best version of himself?”

You hesitate, your fingers tightening around the yarn in your lap. “Maybe. But sometimes, when we try to ‘fix’ someone, we end up falling for the version of them we’ve created in our heads, not the person they really are.”

You don’t know why you’re saying this—or maybe you do. Maybe it’s because you���ve seen the real Heeseung. There’s no need for you to imagine who he is or who he could become because you know. You know his flaws, his frustrations, the way his voice sharpens when he’s annoyed, and how his smile softens when he talks about the things that matter to him. And despite all of it—no, because of all of it….you still like him.

Heeseung doesn’t need fixing. He deserves to be loved unconditionally, not molded into someone else’s ideal.

You glance at Sakura. She doesn’t seem like the type to love with limits. She’s earnest, kind, and patient in a way you’ve never been. If Heeseung allowed himself to get to know her, you could see them being happy together. She would lay her life down to ensure his happiness.

But you?

You’d let the world burn if it meant keeping him safe. You’d tear the universe apart just to put him back together.

It’s an unbearable truth, one you wish you could erase from yourself because no matter how much you care for him, you know that it’s unfair to Sakura.

Sakura nods slowly, her gaze distant. “I guess that’s something I’ll have to figure out. But…I care about him. And I want to see him happy, whether that’s with me or not.”

“Do you mean it?” you ask hesitantly.

Sakura looks up, confused. “Mean what?”

“When you say you wouldn’t mind if Heeseung chose someone else,” you clarify. “Do you really mean that?”

Her fingers pause mid-stitch, and she looks thoughtful. “It would hurt,” she admits. “I’ve come to care about him but I think we both deserve to be with someone who loves us completely. Don’t you?”

You nod slowly.

“I believe he could be that person for me,” Sakura continues, her voice soft. “But if he isn’t, I won’t force it. I’ve spent too much of my life trying to fit into roles that weren’t meant for me. I deserve someone who loves me for who I am and so does he.”

“Thank you,” you say softly, your voice barely audible.

“For what?”

“For trusting me with this.” You respond.

Sakura smiles warmly. “You’re easy to talk to. I can see why Heeseung respects you so much.”

You lower your gaze, unable to meet her eyes. “I’m just doing my job.”

The conversation drifts back to lighter topics as you continue crocheting, but the weight of your guilt never leaves. When the hour is up, you see Sakura out and close the door behind her and lean against it, exhaling shakily. You need to remove yourself.

Crossing the room, you settle into your chair and reach for the files neatly stacked on your desk. Your fingers tremble as you sift through the documents; session notes, progress reports, everything you’ve meticulously prepared over the past month for Heeseung and Sakura.

This was supposed to be just another assignment, your first major case as part of the matchmaking firm’s elite team. You were supposed to help them establish trust, lay the groundwork for a successful marriage and ensure the media viewed them as the perfect couple. But somewhere along the way, it became personal.

You can’t do this anymore. Not when you’ve crossed lines you swore you wouldn’t. Not when you’ve let yourself feel things you shouldn’t.

Gathering the files into a tidy stack, you take a deep breath and stand. You’ll bring these to Miss Min and request to be removed from the case. It’s the only way to salvage what’s left of your integrity and maybe even your sanity.But before you can take a step, there’s a knock at your door.

“Come in.”

The door opens to reveal Dani with a bright smile plastered across her face. She steps inside, holding a clipboard in one hand and a tablet in the other.

“Hey, just the person I was looking for!” she says cheerfully.

You blink, setting the files back down on your desk. “What’s up?”

“Miss Min wanted me to stop by and let you know something,” Dani says, her tone chipper. “She saw Sakura in your office earlier and said you’ve been doing a great job with this case. And since there hasn’t been any bad press with Heeseung lately, she thinks tomorrow’s the perfect day to announce their engagement!”

The words hit you like a freight train. Tomorrow.

You knew this day was coming—it’s what you’ve been working toward. But now that it’s here, the reality of it is suffocating. You force yourself to nod. “That’s…great news.”

Dani’s smile widens. “I know, right? This was your first major case and you killed it! Miss Min is definitely going to put you in charge of more high-profile clients after this.”

“Yeah,” you say quietly, the word feeling hollow. “I’m happy.”

Dani doesn’t seem to notice the strain in your voice. She beams at you one last time before turning to leave but then she pauses and looks back over her shoulder.

“Oh, and Miss Min said you’ve earned a day off tomorrow. Just be on standby in case Heeseung or Sakura need anything.”

You nod again, managing a faint smile. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“No problem! Enjoy your night!” Dani chirps before disappearing out the door.

The moment she’s gone, you sink back into your chair, the files still sitting in front of you. Tomorrow. It feels like a death sentence.

You’re supposed to be proud of yourself, supposed to feel accomplished for guiding Heeseung and Sakura to this point. But all you feel is empty.

Your gaze drifts to your phone on the desk and as if on cue, the screen lights up with a text notification.

9:12 am | heeseung: hey, can we talk?9:14 am | heeseung: please come over tonight.

Your heart pounds as you stare at the messages. You know what you should do. You should say no, maintain the little professional boundaries left and keep your distance. You should focus on preparing yourself for tomorrow, for the inevitable. But you can’t.

You’ve always been selfish when it comes to Heeseung, unable to deny him anything. So you type out a reply before you can think better of it.

9:22 am | you: i’ll stop by after work.

Setting the phone down, you try to convince yourself that this will be the last time. You’ll go over there, tell him the kiss was a mistake and tell him about the engagement announcement. You’ll encourage him to give Sakura a real chance.

Yeah, you’ll do the right thing.

You spend the rest of the afternoon finishing up paperwork, your mind elsewhere the entire time. By the time the clock hits 7 p.m, you’ve packed up your things and are preparing to leave when your phone buzzes with an incoming FaceTime call.

It’s Yunho.

You sigh softly before answering, his smiling face filling the screen.

“Yo,” he greets. “You up for game night at mine? Chisa’s already on her way.”

You hesitate, “I can’t tonight. My first day back was a bit overwhelming. I just need some sleep.”

Yunho frowns, clearly not convinced. “You sure? I don’t want you falling back into a slump.”

“I’m fine. I promise. Just tired. I’ll stop by tomorrow—I’m off, so I’ll spend the whole day with you.”

He studies you for a moment before nodding reluctantly. “Alright. But you better not flake on me.”

“I won’t,” you say softly. “Thanks, Yunho.”

“Anytime,” he says before ending the call.

You exhale slowly, setting your phone aside. You gather your things and head to your car. The drive to Heeseung’s home feels excruciatingly long, your thoughts racing the entire way. By the time you pull up to his home your nerves are frayed but you force yourself to get out of the car and head inside.

This is it. One last time.

You make your way up the familiar stone steps to Heeseung’s front door. Your hand hovers for a moment before you knock, three soft taps against the wood.

A beat passes. Then another. Then another. For a moment, you wonder if he changed his mind about wanting to see you, but then you hear the faint shuffle of footsteps on the other side. The door opens, revealing Heeseung. His expression is unreadable.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice a little raspy.

“Hey,” you reply.

He steps aside to let you in and you hesitantly cross the threshold, the warmth of his home doing little to soothe the chill in your bones. The atmosphere is tense and awkward in a way that neither of you seems to know how to address.

The last time it felt like this was the first time you met him, when you were still trying to figure him out and he was sizing you up in return. That day, you were both strangers, carefully tiptoeing around each other. And now…now, things couldn’t be more complicated.

Heeseung leads you into the living room and gestures for you to sit and you do, choosing the far end of the couch. The space you put between you feels significant, like a boundary you’re desperately trying to maintain.

Heeseung watches you for a moment before sitting down as well, leaning back slightly but keeping his eyes fixed on you. You clutch the strap of your bag, running your fingers along the leather in an attempt to calm yourself. The silence is thick, and you don’t know how to start.

You break first. “Miss Min is announcing the engagement tomorrow.”

The words hang in the air. You glance at him but his expression doesn’t betray much. Heeseung’s gaze shifts away for a moment then back to you. His jaw tightens and he exhales deeply.

“I’m calling it off,” he says suddenly, his voice steady and sure.

Your heart stops. You stare at him, certain you misheard. “W-what?”

“I’m calling it off,” he repeats, turning to face you fully. His eyes are locked onto yours, and the intensity in them makes it impossible to look away. “I’m done prioritizing everyone else’s happiness over my own. I can’t keep pretending to be okay with this.”

You blink at him stunned. Your mind races, trying to make sense of his words. “Heeseung…you can’t just—”

“I don’t want Sakura,” he interrupts. He leans forward slightly, closing some of the distance between you. “I want you.”

The confession feels like a punch to the gut. You shake your head, your hands gripping the strap of your bag even tighter. “No. Heeseung, you don’t mean that.”

“I do,” he says without hesitation. “I’ve tried to deny it, to push it down but I can’t anymore. I can’t lie to myself—or to you.”

“Heeseung—”

“I know this isn’t how things were supposed to happen. I know the way this started was unconventional but none of that changes the way I feel about you.”

You’re frozen, unable to respond.

“I like you. I’ve spent the past month trying to ignore it, trying to convince myself that it was just…a passing thing. But it’s not. I can’t stop thinking about you. About the way you challenge me, the way you see through all the bullshit, the way you care.” He says, his voice trembling just slightly. 

His words are a direct hit to your heart. You swallow hard, your throat tight as tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “I want you too,” you admit, your voice barely audible. “But we can’t.”

“Why not? Who says we can’t?” He asks, his tone almost desperate now. He scoots closer to you on the couch, his knees brushing against yours.

You shake your head, trying to find the right words. “Because…because it’s messy and wrong, Heeseung. You’re engaged to someone else. Someone kind and sweet who doesn’t deserve to be hurt.”

Heeseung reaches out, his hands cupping your face gently forcing you to look at him. His touch is warm. “I don’t want her. I want you.”

“Heeseung…” you choke out.

“I don’t care how messy it is. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. All I care about is you and I need to know if you feel the same.”

You hesitate, your heart conflicting with your mind. Every rational part of you is screaming that this is a mistake, that you’re walking into dangerous territory. But your heart…your heart is begging you to take the leap.

“I…” Your voice falters, and you look into his eyes, the sincerity in them making it impossible to lie. “I do. I feel the same.”

His lips part slightly, relief washing over his face. “Then that’s all that matters.”

You shake your head again, tears slipping down your cheeks. “But it’s not that simple.”

“It is,” he insists, his hands still cradling your face. “It is if you want it to be. Just say yes.”

“Heeseung…”

“Please,” he whispers, his voice breaking slightly. “Just say yes.”

Your heart feels like it’s going to explode. You know you shouldn’t, you know this is dangerous, but you can’t bring yourself to deny him. You’ve never been able to deny him and you don’t think you could now, not when he’s looking at you like this, like you’re the only thing that matters in the world.

“Okay,” you whisper, barely able to get the word out. “Yes.”

Heeseung exhales sharply, like he’s been holding his breath this entire time. And then before you can second-guess yourself, his lips are on yours. The kiss is soft at first, almost hesitant, but it quickly deepens, his hands sliding to the back of your neck to pull you closer.

You melt into him, every doubt, every fear fading away as his warmth envelops you. In this moment, nothing else matters. Just him. Just this.

You part your lips slightly, letting him deepen the kiss. His tongue brushes against yours and a quiet whimper escapes your throat, the sound swallowed by his kiss. Heeseung’s grip tightens, one hand sliding down to your waist as he pulls you impossibly closer.

You barely register the moment when he tugs you into his lap, your knees straddling him as his hands settle on your hips. You instinctively brace your hands on his shoulders. His warmth radiates through the fabric of his shirt, his broad chest firm beneath your palms. You can feel his heart pounding just as wildly as your own.

It feels right; this moment, his touch, the way he holds you. For a fleeting second, you remember all the things you need to address. All the unanswered questions about how this will work, what it will mean for both of you. But right now, none of that seems important. Right now, you focus on the way his lips move against yours, the way his hands hold you as if he never wants to let go.

Your breath hitches when you feel him harden beneath you, the unmistakable evidence of his desire making heat pool low in your belly. The realization sends a flush of warmth spreading across your cheeks, but Heeseung doesn’t give you a moment to linger on it. His grip on your hips tightens slightly as he kisses you deeper.

Without breaking the kiss, he stands, his hands sliding under your thighs to lift you effortlessly. A gasp escapes you, muffled against his mouth as your arms wrap instinctively around his neck. He carries you through the house, navigating the short distance to his bedroom with ease.

When he sets you down on the bed his movements are slow and deliberate. His lips leave yours for a brief moment, and you’re left catching your breath as he pulls back just enough to look at you. The way he gazes down at you makes your chest tighten and pussy clench. There’s so much emotion in his eyes, all mixed together in a way that makes you feel both shy and hot under his gaze.

You look away for a moment, heat rising to your cheeks but Heeseung gently tilts your chin back to face him. “Do you want this?” he asks. His hands fall down to your hips, pushing up your blouse to feel the softness of your stomach beneath his palms.

You look at him through your lashes and stare at his face for a minute trying to decipher what he’s thinking. He’s always been a person who wears their emotions on their face, and now, as you look up into his eyes searching for any hesitation— you find none. You find nothing but pure want and admiration.

“Yes,” you whisper. “I want this. I want you.”

The corners of his lips lift in a small relieved smile and then he’s leaning down again, capturing your mouth in another kiss.

Heeseung pulls back just slightly, his hands still resting on your hips as his eyes search yours. His fingers trail lightly along the hem of your blouse and he murmurs, “Raise your arms for me.” You do as he asks, lifting your arms above your head and Heeseung takes his time peeling your shirt off, his knuckles brushing your skin as he tugs it free. The fabric falls to the floor and he pauses for a moment to take you in. His gaze sweeps over you with such hunger that you lose your breath.

Heeseung pulls his own shirt off in one smooth motion and you can’t help but stare. His chest rises and falls steadily, his toned muscles illuminated in the dim light of the room. He catches your gaze and offers you a small reassuring smile as he leans closer again.

You bite your bottom lip suddenly feeling self-conscious under his intense gaze but Heeseung seems to notice. He cups your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “Don’t be nervous,” he whispers, his voice gentle, soothing. “I’ll be gentle.”

You nod slightly, your lips parting as he leans down to press another kiss to your lips. His hands trail down to the clasp of your bra and he pauses for just a moment, giving you time to stop him if you want to. When you don’t, he deftly unhooks it and slides it off your shoulders.

Your breath hitches as the cool air grazes your skin and Heeseung takes a moment to admire you, his eyes softening as if committing every inch of you to memory. His tenderness feels almost overwhelming, and your heart beats wildly as he gently lays you back down on the bed.

He leans in again, placing a soft peck on your lips before his mouth begins a slow descent. His lips trail kisses down your collarbone, lingering for a moment before continuing down the center of your chest.

When his lips reach your navel he pauses, his warm breath fanning over your skin. “Can I taste you baby?”

You shyly nod at the question and use of pet name not used to it. Heeseung shakes his head though, “no baby. I need to hear you say yes. C’mon, let me hear that beautiful voice.”

You lift your hips off his bed not able to voice your wants. He smirks and kisses your naval again. “C’mon baby, tell me what you want.”

You huff frustrated. “Heeseung please…I need you.”

“There we go.”

He helps you unbutton your slacks and slides them down your legs and tosses them onto the growing pile on the floor. Heeseung grips onto the band of your panties and slides them down. Once you’re completely naked, he dips his fingers into your sticky dripping pussy. 

He hisses at the feeling of your warm cunt wrapped around his fingers “Mmm, you’re so wet, baby,” he says, a pathetic whimper escapes you in response. 

Heesueng dives his head in between your thighs and kisses your clit just once before pulling his head back again. There’s a few seconds of silence, of anticipating what he’s going to do next.

You gasp as you watch him lock eyes with you before spitting directly onto your clit. You bite your lip to keep in the moan that wants to escape at the feeling of his spit dripping from your clit down your pussy, making a mess of you and his sheets beneath you.

Heeseung leans back down and latches onto your clit, sucking harshly.  Pleasure shoots through your veins and your stomach clenches. Heeseung groans, the vibration making you shake underneath him. His eyes flutter closed, savoring the feeling of your legs thrown over his shoulders and the taste of you.

His tongue laps up your juices, he’s slurping loudly enjoying every drop of your sweet arousal on his tongue. He licks fast up and down your pussy, parting your folds with the tip of his hot tongue. Your legs are shaking, your right hand tangles in his hair to make sure he stays down. "H-heeseung," you hiccup, starting to grind your hips for added pleasure. 

Heeseung moans, flicking his tongue on your clit quickly. You feel his fingers at your entrance again, playing with your slick, stroking up and down your folds. Your breath quickens more, you can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“Fuck,” you whimper, wincing at the slight burn as he inserts two fingers into you slowly. You haven’t had anything inside of you for so long, you welcome the pain that comes with it.

“Gonna stretch you out nice and good,” Heeseung growls against your sopping cunt. “Make sure you’re ready to take my fat cock, isn’t that right baby?” 

You nod dumbly at his words, grinding your hips onto his fingers as the tightening feeling in your lower stomach keeps building.

"Oh, f-fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum." You’re starting to babble, moans becoming increasingly higher in pitch. You try pushing yourself higher up on the bed trying to escape his grasp, it’s all too much. Your thighs start shaking and Heeseung takes it upon himself to grip a little tighter to keep you in place.

He practically buries his face in your pussy, stimulating you with his tongue and the tip of his nose whilst still fucking you with his fingers. He grunts, sucking on your pussy whilst flicking his tongue over your swollen clit, his fingers curling deep inside of you. 

“Cum for me doll,” Heeseung begs, desperate to pull an orgasm from you just to lick it all up. “Be a good girl and cum on my face.”

"Oh fuck," you choke out, your hips bucking. 

Your legs close up on him, nearly crushing his head. Your fingers pull on his hair but Heeseung  keeps on licking and sucking the whole time. With the pressure on your clit and the fullness of his fingers scissoring deep in your core you can’t help it, the budding tightness unraveling as you come onto his tongue. Your body shakes lightly, trembling in his grip as you let out loud needy moans.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” He confesses as he watches you ride out your orgasm.

Heeseung pulls back and exhales shakily, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your hip as he leans down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. “I’ll be right back,” he murmurs, his voice tender.

You nod still, catching your breath, watching as he pushes himself up from the bed. He moves to his bathroom and disappears behind the partially open door. You hear the faint rustle of a cabinet being opened, and your heart races when you catch sight of him returning with a small box in his hand.

Heeseung sets the box down on the nightstand and pulls out a single foil packet. His movements are deliberate but unhurried, as if giving you all the time in the world to change your mind.

When he settles back beside you he cups your face with one hand and kisses you softly, his lips conveying reassurance and care. “We don’t have to go any further,” he says, his forehead resting against yours. “We can stop here if you want.”

His sincerity makes your heart flutter and for a moment all you can do is stare into his eyes. But then you lean in, your lips brushing his as you whisper, “I don’t want to stop.”

You don’t let the kiss last long, pulling away to look Heeseung in his eyes as you slowly sink to your knees in front of him. He gulps as he watches you with hooded eyes, lifting his hips so you can remove his sweats and boxers. The moment his cock springs out, your jaw nearly drops to the floor. Not only is he long, but he’s also thick and veiny. Your mouth waters at the sight of it, he twitches in the air, red and angry waiting for attention.

You flick your eyes up to meet Heeseung’s impatient gaze before wrapping your dominant hand around the base and slowly tugging. Heeseung groans at the feeling and spreads his legs a bit more to give you better access. You kiss the tip of his erect cock, slowly opening your mouth to suck at the tip of his dick. You wrap your lips around his head, slowly sucking the tip into your mouth as precum drips out and coats your tongue.

Heeseung lets out a breathy moan, thrusting into your mouth slightly as he urges you to take him deeper into your mouth. You willingly swallow more of him, tongue swirling around his head, groaning at the taste of his precum.

You begin bobbing your head, taking more and more of his hard length into your mouth. Heeseung grips on to your hair and slides you further down his length. “That’s it, princess. Take this big dick down your throat.” He begins thrusting his hips gradually, forcing more and more of his cock into your mouth until you take in his whole shaft, your face pressed against his lower abdomen.

Heeseung thrusts harder into your mouth, losing himself in the feel of your lips wrapped tightly around him, letting out a small groan whenever you flick your tongue against his slit, licking the precum.

“F-fuck just like that.” You’re slowly coating his cock in your saliva, the mixture of your spit and his precum turning him into a sticky mess.

Wet sounds of gagging resound through the air, mingling with the sounds of Heeseung thrusting into your mouth. You feel his cock twitch inside you before he says. “Gonna swallow all my cum like a good girl? Hm?”

You hum around him, eager to bring him over the edge. “Oh, oh fuck, I’m cumming.” Heeseung groans, gritting his teeth. He thrusts his hip one last time before cumming. You feel his cum shoot down the back of your throat and you make sure to swallow the warm liquid, not wasting a single drop.

“Fuck. You’re amazing” Heeseung mutters, pulling you off of his dick before kissing you, tasting himself. You kiss him back fervently, your fingers burying into his red locks.

“I need you Hee,” You whimper.

Heeseung nods and picks you up to lay you flat on your back. “Anything for you princess.” He leans over to grab the condom from earlier and opens the foil. He tosses the wrapping and slowly slides the condom down his shaft. Once he’s sure it’s secure he hovers over your body just taking you in.

You blush but whine, spreading your legs a bit more. “Heeseung….please.”

He smirks at the desperation in your voice before leaning down to close his lips over your right nipple. You whimper at the feeling of his tongue on your nipple, sucking it into his mouth before pulling back and blowing cold air on it.

You lay still, anticipating his next move. His eyes flick down. “Your pussy looks so fucking good.” Heeseung says, letting the pink tip of his dick rub against your wet folds. You both moan at the sensation.

With one more rub of his head, he lines himself against your entrance and slowly pushes his hips forward. You think you could come instantly.

Heeseung shifts above you, moving so his hands cage you between both his arms. You moan as he slowly enters you, his girth stretching your pussy out. He buries his face into the crook of your neck and places a kiss at the juncture of your jaw and neck at the feeling of your walls clamping around him. Finally, when he’s completely in your pussy, his head grazing cervix, he stills and shifts his head to meet your eyes. You look up at him through hazy, half lidded eyes, completely lost in the way he opens you up. Heeseung stills for a couple moments, allowing you to get used to his size before pulling out and thrusting in once again, this time in one smooth glide. You let out a choked-out moan, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

The intimacy is overwhelming, a closeness that feels as though it’s unraveling you and putting you back together all at once. He holds you like you’re something precious, something fragile, as if he’s afraid you might slip away if he isn’t careful.

His gaze never leaves yours. The way his eyes search your face, looking for any sign of discomfort fills you with a warmth you’ve never known. There’s no urgency in him, no impatience, just a steady gentle rhythm.

“Right t-there” You mewl, slowly losing yourself in all the pleasure. Heeseung tucks his head under yours and grins against your skin, biting your collarbone gently before sucking a hickey on your skin. He trails kisses down to the valley of your breasts, pressing a kiss against your sternum before taking a nipple into his mouth, suckling gingerly. “P-please Hee, can’t…gonna cum” You babble, unable to form a coherent sentence.

You faintly acknowledge Heeseung grinning against your chest, his right hand slowly inches towards your own before entwining it with your own. Holding your hand over his sheets. You can feel him pour out all his emotions into each and every action as he thrusts into you over and over again.

“You’re so beautiful.” Heeseung whispers.

All of a sudden you cum without warning, the pressure too much. Heeseung pushes your hips down into the bed, pounding relentlessly into you, chasing his own high. He hammers into you one last time before letting out a loud groan as he empties himself into the condom, spurt after spurt of his cum pouring into you.

The world feels quiet now, the only sound in the room your mingled breaths as you both come down from the high. Heeseung’s forehead rests against yours, his hand still clasping yours tightly as if letting go would somehow make the moment less real. His thumb strokes over your knuckles.

“You okay?” he asks softly, his voice hoarse and laced with concern.

You nod, barely able to gather the words to respond. “I’m okay,” you whisper.

A small, relieved smile touches his lips before he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. Heeseung shifts slightly, careful not to crush you as he pulls out. You wince at the sensitivity and he quickly apologizes.

“Stay here,” he murmurs, reluctantly letting go of your hand. He slips out of bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his movement.

You watch as he crosses the room, disposing of the condom in the bathroom and cleaning himself off before grabbing a warm damp cloth. When he returns, he kneels beside the bed, his touch impossibly gentle as he cleans you up murmuring soft reassurances. “You did so well,” he says quietly, his voice full of affection. “Thank you… for trusting me with you.”

Your cheeks warm, but you manage a soft smile and nod.

Heeseung’s gaze softens even further, and he presses a kiss to your knee before standing to place the cloth aside. He joins you back in bed, pulling the sheets up over your bodies before tugging you into his arms. You rest your head on his chest, your legs tangling with his as his hand strokes your back in soothing circles.

“You’re amazing,” he murmurs, his fingers drawing lazy patterns on your back. “I hope you know that.”

You huff a small laugh, finally finding your voice. “You don’t have to flatter me, you already got what you wanted.”

Heeseung chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Maybe I just like telling you how I feel.” He tilts his head to look at you, his expression soft and unguarded. “Can I?”

You glance up at him, confused. “Can you what?”

“Tell you more about me…The messy parts. The things I don’t usually share.”

Your breath catches slightly at the vulnerability in his voice but you nod. “I’d like that.”

His grip on you tightens just a little, as if you're his own personal stress ball. He doesn’t start talking right away, his thumb brushing along your shoulder as if he’s organizing his thoughts. You don’t rush him content to lie there in his embrace waiting for him to open up.

Finally, he speaks. “When I was fifteen, my brother Heejoon was seventeen,” he begins, his voice quiet but steady. “He was… everything you’d expect from an eldest son in our family—smart, responsible, always trying to do the right thing. But he struggled a lot too. Heejoon always had anxiety. It wasn’t obvious at first; he’d just get nervous about things other people didn’t think twice about. But as we got older… it got worse.”

You shift slightly in his arms looking up at him with concern. Heeseung’s gaze is fixed on the ceiling, his jaw tight as he continues.

“Our dad…he’s a no-nonsense kind of man. Everything is about discipline, results, and maintaining the family’s reputation. That summer, he was preparing Heejoon to start interning at the company. Heejoon was terrified but he didn’t tell anyone. He didn’t want to disappoint our dad. So he just… pushed himself harder. He started focusing on the business, trying to prepare, but his grades started slipping. He was so afraid of letting Dad down that he…he cheated on a final exam.” 

Heeseung clears his throat. “He got caught and Dad had to bribe the teacher to keep it off his record and let him retake the exam. He was livid, but he didn’t hit him or anything. He’s never laid a hand on us. But his words…” Heeseung’s voice falters, and he looks away.

Your heart aches for him, for Heejoon. You reach up, cupping his cheek and gently guiding his gaze back to you. “What happened?” you whisper.

Heeseung closes his eyes for a moment, like he’s reliving the memory. “Heejoon couldn’t take it anymore. The pressure to be perfect, to be something he wasn’t…that night, after Dad tore into him, he tried to kill himself.”

Your heart drops at the confirmation of what you knew all along.

“I was the one who found him,” Heeseung continues, his voice barely audible now. “We got him to the hospital in time, but… he was never the same after that. His will to live was just… gone.”

You sit up slightly, your eyes searching his face. “Heeseung…”

He meets your gaze, his own eyes glassy but resolute. “Heejoon’s alive. But he’s not… He’s not the same person he used to be.”

You gently take his hand in both of yours, your fingers wrapping around his as if to anchor him. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” you say softly, your voice steady but full of empathy. “And I’m so glad he’s still here. Heeseung… You’ve been through so much and you’re still here too. You’re still fighting. That means something.”

Heeseung shakes his head slowly, his grip on your body tightening. “I blamed myself for years,” he murmurs, his voice strained. “I saw how much he was struggling and I didn’t do anything. I was his little brother—I was supposed to have his back and I didn’t. I just stood there, thinking he’d be fine because he was Heejoon. He was always the strong one.”

His voice cracks and you reach up brushing your fingers lightly along his jaw, grounding him. He leans into your touch almost unconsciously, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

“When I see him now…” He pauses, exhaling shakily. “I can’t stop thinking about how different his life could’ve been if I’d just said something. If I’d told someone how scared he was, how much pressure he was under. Maybe… maybe he wouldn’t have felt like he had no other choice.” His gaze drops to yours, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I failed him.”

Your chest tightens at the rawness in his voice, the weight he’s been carrying alone for so long. “Heeseung,” you say softly, “you didn’t fail him. You were a kid too, trying to survive in the same house under the same pressure. You did the best you could with what you knew then. That matters.”

His lips twitch faintly, but the guilt in his eyes doesn’t fade. “Some days, it doesn’t feel like enough,” he admits quietly.

“It is,” you insist, leaning closer your hand still resting against his cheek. “Every time you show up for Heejoon, every time you keep going, you’re proving how much you care. You’re making him proud, Heeseung. I know it.”

Heeseung looks at you for a long moment, his gaze filled with something you can’t quite place. Finally, he nods, his grip on you tightening slightly. “Thank you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.

“Where’s Heejoon now?” you ask gently.

“He’s in an assisted living facility,” Heeseung replies. “After the incident, Dad couldn’t… He couldn’t live with him anymore. The guilt ate at him so he sent him away to get professional help. Heejoon’s been there ever since. He’s getting better, slowly. His doctors think he might be able to come home soon.”

You smile softly. “That’s good. I’m glad he’s getting the help he needs.”

Heeseung nods, his expression thoughtful. “I visit him every weekend,” he says.

Your brows furrow slightly. “Every weekend?”

Heeseung glances at you, his brows raising in question.

You hesitate before continuing. “The tabloids… They say you sneak off to Jeju every weekend to sleep with a new model,” you say carefully.

Heeseung scoffs, the sound almost bitter. “Heejoon’s care facility is in Jeju,” he explains. “My parents didn’t want anyone knowing what happened so they sent him there to keep it quiet.”

Your heart aches at the weight he must’ve been carrying alone. “So… those rumors?”

“Bullshit,” Heeseung says firmly. “You’re the first person I’ve slept with in years.”

You blink surprised. “Really?”

He nods. “I won’t lie and say I’ve never slept around. I did, but that was during my undergrad days… before I met Karina.”

The name sends a jolt through you, his ex who he allegedly forced to get an abortion. “Who’s Karina?” you ask carefully, playing oblivious to know the truth.

Heeseung’s expression shifts, the room is quiet save for the hum of the heater and the faint rustle of the sheets as he shifts closer. His hand trails absently along your arm, his touch warm “She was… the first person I ever loved,” he admits.

You listen intently as he begins to tell you about her. He shares how their relationship came to be, how she made him feel seen in a way no one else ever had but he also tells you about the heartbreak that followed when she left. About her carrying another man's baby and leaving because it wasn’t fair to Heeseung despite how badly he wanted her to stay.

Heeseung exhales, his voice trembling just slightly. “I should’ve fought harder. I should’ve convinced her to stay. Instead, I let her go. I told myself it was what she wanted but deep down, I think I was scared. Scared of everything that came with loving her, scared I’d mess it all up anyway.”

He pauses, his fingers grazing your back, his gaze distant. “It’s a pattern, you know? People leave me but maybe… maybe it’s because I push them away first. Like I did with her.”

His words hang heavy in the air. You sit up slightly, leaning on your elbow to face him. “Heeseung, listen to me,” you say softly, your right hand resting gently on his chest. “What happened with Karina wasn’t your fault. You need to stop carrying this like it was all on you, like you had the power to change everything. There’s nothing wrong with you, and you’re more than deserving of love—then and now.”

His lips part slightly as if to protest but no words come out. His eyes search yours, filled with doubt and pain, as though he’s grappling with the possibility of believing you.

“She didn’t leave because you weren’t enough,” you continue. “You were both young, and Karina… she was stuck in an impossible situation. That doesn’t mean you failed her, Heeseung. It doesn’t mean you were to blame. Her insecurities, her choices—they weren’t your burden to carry or fix. Just because you had a past, just because you were more experienced, doesn’t mean you pushed her away. Those were her fears, not a reflection of your worth.”

His grip on your waist tightens slightly, his breathing uneven. His eyes glisten with unshed tears as his brows draw together, struggling with the truth in your words.

“You have to let go of this idea that you’re the reason things fell apart,” you whisper, brushing your thumb tenderly along his jawline. “Sometimes people leave not because of anything you did but because they don’t know how to stay. It’s not about you being enough—it never was. And it doesn’t mean you’re not enough now.”

Heeseung swallows hard, his head dipping as his forehead presses lightly against yours. “I don’t know if I can believe that yet,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible.

“That’s okay,” you reply, your voice soft but resolute. “I’ll remind you as many times as it takes.”

For a moment the room falls into stillness, the only sound is the mingling of your breaths. You feel his arm wrap tighter around your midsection pulling you closer, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly.

Then, in the quiet you speak, your voice barely above a whisper. “Heeseung… I already knew about Karina”

His head pulls back slightly, his brows furrowing in confusion as his gaze locks onto yours. “What do you mean?” He asks, his tone cautious, tinged with uncertainty.

You take in a breath gathering the courage to continue. “I knew about her. About what people said. Before you told me.”

His confusion deepens, flickers of uncertainty and hurt shadowing his expression. “How?” he asks softly, his voice low and guarded, his walls creeping back up.

You hesitate, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket draped over you both but you push through the fear because this is Heeseung and he deserves honesty.

“Remember how I told you Chisa is a journalist?” you begin carefully.

Heeseung nods slowly but you can already see it—the way his shoulders tense, the way his eyes darken. His defenses are rising, and it crushes you to watch the vulnerability you’d shared moments ago slip away.

“Chisa is writing an exposé. About your college days. She has a source—someone who knows about Karina, about the rumors that you…that you asked her to get an abortion.”

Heeseung goes still, his body tensing beneath your touch. He’s silent for a moment, his gaze fixed behind you. Then finally he speaks his voice sharp and clipped. “How long have you known?”

You swallow the lump forming in your throat, knowing there’s no point in lying. “Chisa got put on the article the day we first met but I didn’t find out about the rumors until… the day you asked me to dinner.”

Heeseung’s jaw tightens and he slowly pulls away from you, the space between you growing wider as your heart drops. He sits up slightly, running a hand through his hair. His expression is a mix of hurt and disbelief.

You instinctively grab the blanket to cover your bare body, not out of modesty but because the emotional distance feels unbearable. “Heeseung…” you begin softly, but he cuts you off.

“You knew all this time,” he says, his voice low and tinged with disbelief. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t know how,” you say quickly, your voice trembling. “Heeseung, you have to understand—Chisa is my best friend. This article is everything to her.”

He lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he runs a hand through his hair. “And what about me?” he asks, his voice rising slightly. “Did you even think about what that could do to me? About how I’d feel if you believed those rumors?”

“I didn’t believe them. I didn’t, Heeseung but I didn’t know you then. I didn’t know how to bring it up or if I even should! You have to understand—if I said anything to you or Miss Min, it would’ve meant the end of my friendship with Chisa. I didn’t know what to do.”

Heeseung’s gaze is piercing, his silence more cutting than any words he could’ve said. You feel the weight of his disappointment, his hurt and it tears at you. 

You feel tears threaten to spill over now but you don’t bother wiping them away. Instead, you reach for his hand, grabbing onto it tightly even as he stiffens under your touch. The blanket slips from your body leaving you exposed but you don’t care. You need him to understand.

“This wasn’t an easy decision to make. I’ve been stuck between my best friend and her career and the guy I—” You catch yourself, your breath hitching. “The guy I care about. I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner. I’m sorry I hurt you but I don’t want you to be blindsided by this Heeseung. I don’t want you to be hurt anymore. That’s why I’m telling you now.”

Heeseung stares at you, his expression softening slightly as your words sink in. He exhales deeply, the anger in his gaze giving way to understanding. “Okay,” he says softly after a long moment, his tone laced with exhaustion. “Okay.”

Before you can say anything else, he pulls you into his arms, his hand cradling the back of your head as you bury your face in his shoulder. “Don’t cry,” he murmurs, his voice gentle again. “Please don’t cry. I’m not mad at you.”

“Are you sure?” you whisper, your voice muffled against his skin.

He nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I could never stay mad at you.”

The two of you settle back under the covers, his arms holding you close again not leaving any space between the two of you. After a beat of silence, Heeseung speaks again. “I have to pull the plug on the article… you know that, right?”

You nod against his chest, your heart sinking at the thought of what this will mean for Chisa and your friendship. “Can you at least let me tell her before you make any phone calls?”

Heeseung hesitates, his fingers massaging your shoulder as he considers your request. “Are you sure you’ll be able to do that? To look her in the eyes and tell her you’re the reason her dreams won’t come true?”

You flinch at the harshness of his words, but you understand where they’re coming from. “I have to,” you say quietly. “I owe her that much.”

Heeseung exhales, nodding reluctantly. “Okay.”

He holds you closer, his chin resting on the top of your head as the two of you sit in silence. Despite everything, there’s a strange sense of comfort in knowing you don’t have to carry this secret anymore. As the minutes stretch on, the tension slowly fades, replaced by the steady rhythm of your breaths syncing together. And eventually, the two of you drift off to sleep, tangled in each other’s arms.

THE NEXT MORNING

You wake up slowly, sunlight streaming through the curtains and warming the room. For a moment, you forget where you are, your body pressed against soft sheets and someone warm and firm beside you. Blinking, the events of last night come flooding back and a soft smile tugs at your lips. You hadn’t planned to stay the night but waking up here wrapped in Heeseung’s arms, doesn’t feel like a mistake. It feels… right.

Shifting slightly, you glance over at him. He’s still asleep, his features relaxed and peaceful in the early morning light. His hair is slightly mussed, his lips parted as he breathes deeply. He looks younger like this, the weight he often carries nowhere in sight.

You try to move carefully not wanting to wake him up but the slight shift of your body stirs him. His arms tighten instinctively around your waist, pulling you closer as his eyes flutter open.

“Morning,” he murmurs, his voice husky with sleep and a small smile curving his lips.

“Morning,” you reply softly, your own smile growing.

Heeseung leans in and presses a lingering kiss to your lips, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. When he pulls back, his eyes are filled with a warmth that makes your heart race. “I could get used to waking up like this,” he says, his voice still low.

You laugh softly, brushing a strand of hair from his face, the silky red strands slipping through your fingers. “As nice as this is, I really should get going. Chisa’s probably worried about me.”

Before you can move, Heeseung tightens his hold on you, burying his face in your neck with a dramatic sigh. When he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his lower lip juts out in a pout so exaggerated it almost makes you laugh out loud.

“Stay,” he whines, his voice soft and petulant. “Just for a little longer. Please?”

You blink, momentarily stunned. This side of him is so unlike the composed and confident Heeseung you’ve grown accustomed to. The playful pout on his lips, the slight scrunch of his nose, and the sparkle of mischief in his eyes are all so…unexpected.

And yet, you think to yourself, you’d like to see this version of him more often, this carefree boyish Heeseung who doesn’t seem burdened.

You shake your head, laughing. “Heeseung, as much as I’d love to stay in bed all day, I promised Yunho I’d spend the day with him. And knowing my friends, Jaehyun and Chisa are probably going to tag along.”

At the mention of your plans, Heeseung lets out a resigned sigh, finally releasing his hold on you. “Fine,” he mutters, feigning annoyance. “But only because I’m trying to be supportive of your friendships.”

You sit up, the blanket slipping from your shoulders as you begin gathering your clothes. As you pull your shirt over your head, you glance over at Heeseung. “What about you? What are your plans for the day?”

He clears his throat, his gaze flickering briefly away before returning to you as you move around the room. “I called Miss Min last night,” he begins quietly. “Postponed announcing the engagement.”

Your hands still for a moment, your chest tightening as you think of Sakura and what this means for her. “What are you going to do?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Heeseung sighs, his fingers raking through his hair. “I need to talk to Sakura today. In person, it’s the least I can do,” he says softly.

Your heart sinks a little further, your thoughts drifting to Sakura’s feelings for him and how this will affect her. “Let me know how it goes,” you say gently, folding your arms across your chest. “I’d like to apologize to her too.”

Heeseung hesitates, his brows knitting together. “You don’t have to do that,” he says, his voice firm but gentle. “I don’t mind taking the blame for this. You don’t need to get involved any more than you already are.”

You shake your head firmly. “No, Heeseung. I’m just as complicit in all of this. You shouldn’t have to shoulder all the blame—not after everything you’ve already been through. I need to own my part in it too.”

His gaze softens as he looks at you, and he takes a step closer, his hands brushing gently against your waist.  He studies you for a moment before nodding, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You roll your eyes, trying to mask the flutter of your heart. “Don’t try to distract me with compliments,” you tease lightly, though the smile on your lips betrays your feigned irritation.

Heeseung chuckles softly, pulling you closer for a brief moment before letting his hands fall away. “I mean it,” he murmurs.

Once you’re dressed, you grab your phone from the nightstand, only to find it completely dead. Letting out a sigh, you glance over at Heeseung, who is now standing by the bed in just his boxers.

“You should probably put some clothes on,” you tease, unable to stop the smile that forms as he approaches you.

Heeseung smirks, his hands finding their way to your waist as he pulls you close. “Why? Planning on staying a little longer?”

You roll your eyes but your heart flutters as he leans down to kiss you. It’s slow and unhurried, filled with a tenderness that makes you momentarily forget why you need to leave.

When he finally pulls back, you sigh. “As tempting as that is, I really need to go. I have to tell Chisa about the article.”

“Stay for breakfast, at least?” he asks, his tone hopeful.

You hesitate, but the look in his eyes makes it impossible to say no. “Fine,” you relent, laughing softly. “One day, I’ll learn how to tell you no.”

Heeseung grins, taking your hand and leading you to the kitchen. “Good luck with that,” he teases.

You hop onto the countertop as he pulls out a pan and begins preparing the ingredients for pancakes. Watching him move around the kitchen, you find yourself thinking about how natural this feels—how easy it is to picture mornings like this being a regular thing.

As he pours the batter onto the pan, he slides between your legs, resting his hands on your thighs. “Gimme a kiss.”

“The pancakes will burn,” you say, laughing softly.

“They will if you don’t hurry up and kiss me,” he counters, his lips quirking into a playful smirk.

You roll your eyes but lean in, intending to give him a quick peck. Heeseung has other plans, deepening the kiss until you’re breathless. When he finally pulls back, he’s grinning smugly.

“You’re impossible,” you mutter but the warmth in your chest betrays your words.

“Impossible to resist,” he quips, turning back to the stove just in time to flip the pancake, which, to your surprise, isn’t burnt.

Once the pancakes are done, you help him with the eggs while he cuts up some fresh fruit he had laying around. The two of you work together, the easy banter making the morning feel light and carefree.

When everything is ready, you sit together at the kitchen island, plates filled with food. For a while, there’s nothing but the sound of utensils and quiet conversation.

Heeseung breaks the silence, his tone thoughtful. “I could get used to this.”

You glance at him, your cheeks warming. “Me too,” you admit softly.

He doesn’t respond immediately, just stares at you in a way that makes your heart race.

“Your food’s going to get cold,” you say, laughing nervously under his gaze.

Heeseung shrugs, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Worth it.”

You shove his shoulder lightly, trying to hide your flustered state. “Eat,” you scold, and he chuckles before finally picking up his fork.

As you finish your plate, you take a sip of the orange juice he poured for you, noting how he remembered your preference for sweet drinks. You don’t comment on it but the gesture doesn’t go unnoticed.

When Heeseung finishes eating, he stands and helps clear the dishes, his movements unhurried. You grab your bag and dead phone ready to head out.

Heeseung walks you to the door, his hand resting lightly on your waist. As you step outside, he makes no move to let go.

“You’re just in your boxers,” you point out, raising an eyebrow.

“So?” he replies, a teasing grin on his lips.

You swat his arm, laughing softly. “Go back inside before your neighbors get an eyeful.”

Heeseung laughs, pulling you into one last kiss before letting you go. “Drive safe,” he murmurs, his voice soft.

You nod, smiling as you climb into your car. The drive home is quiet, the events of the morning replaying in your mind.

When you arrive, you park your car and head up to your apartment building but when you step into the space, the atmosphere shifts. “Chisa?” you call out, your voice tentative as you set your bag down by the door.

The apartment is eerily silent, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. You step further inside rounding the corner and your breath catches in your throat.

Chisa is sitting cross-legged in the middle of the living room, her back rigid and her gaze fixed on the wall in front of her. Her hands rest limply in her lap but there’s a tension radiating from her body that makes your stomach twist.

“Chisa?” you try again softer this time, taking a cautious step forward.

She doesn’t respond, doesn’t even blink. The silence stretches heavy and suffocating as you kneel in front of her, your hand hesitantly reaching for her shoulder.

“Hey,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

This time, her eyes shift, locking onto yours with a sharpness that sends a shiver down your spine. Her gaze is cold, unyielding, and when she finally speaks, her voice is low and chilling.

“Did you tell Heeseung about my article?”

You freeze. The words knock the air out of your lungs, leaving you grasping for a response. How does she know? Heeseung promised to give you time to talk to her yourself.

“I—what?” you stammer, the sudden intensity of her glare making your heart race.

Chisa’s jaw clenches as she rises to her feet, looming over you. “I got a phone call from his lawyers in the middle of the night. They said I can’t publish my exposé. Did you tell him?”

Your chest tightens as realization dawns. Heeseung must have made the call while you were sleeping. A flicker of anger sparks within you—why hadn’t he let you handle this? You push it down, trying to focus on Chisa who looks like she’s seconds away from exploding.

“Yes.”

Chisa scoffs, her expression twisting into one of disbelief and fury. She takes a step back, shaking her head. “Unbelievable,” she mutters before spinning around and storming toward the hallway.

“Chisa, wait!” you call, scrambling to your feet and following her. “Please, just listen—”

She whirls around so suddenly that you almost stumble. Her hands shoot out, shoving you backward with a force that knocks the breath out of you.

You stumble, catching yourself. The shock of it leaves you frozen for a moment, your mind struggling to catch up with what just happened. Chisa has never done anything like this before. You’ve argued in the past, of course you have, but even in your worst moments, she never laid a hand on you. Not once.

She’s seething. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, her fists clenched so tightly at her sides that her knuckles turn white. Her eyes, usually warm and filled with love or mischief, are blazing with an intensity that makes your stomach churn.

“Listen to what?” she spits, her voice rising. “To you defending that manwhore? To you justifying why you chose him over me?”

“I didn’t choose him over you!”

“Yes, you did! You sacrificed my career for him! For what? Did he fuck you too?”

The words hit you like a slap and your mouth opens but no sound comes out. Chisa’s eyes widen as she takes in your reaction, her expression shifting from anger to disgust.

“No way,” she whispers, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “You sold me out for some dick? Were you that fucking desperate?”

Your chest tightens with indignation. “It’s not like that!” you snap, your voice rising to match hers. “My relationship with Heeseung has nothing to do with why I told him.”

Chisa stares at you as if you’ve grown another head, her voice dripping with disdain. “Relationship?” She lets out a humorless laugh. “For someone with a master’s degree in psychology, you’re one dumb bitch. He’s not capable of loving anyone. Not his ex, not Sakura, and definitely not you.”

You flinch at the mention of Sakura, your mind racing. “Sakura? What—”

Chisa cuts you off, turning on her heel and storming back into the living room. She grabs the remote and flicks on the TV, jabbing the buttons with trembling hands.

The screen flickers to life, and your stomach drops like a stone when the news anchor’s voice fills the room. Their tone is bright and celebratory.

“Breaking news! A fairytale ending for Lee Heeseung and Miyawaki Sakura.”

A photo of the two smiling together flashes on the screen, and your knees feel like they might give out.

Chisa crosses her arms, her glare burning into you as the broadcast loops back to commentary. “The announcement was made official two hours ago,” she says coldly, her voice cutting through the air.

Two hours ago.

You were sitting in Heeseung’s kitchen, eating pancakes while he talked about getting used to seeing you in his home. He had said he’d told Miss Min to postpone the announcement. He’d promised. Your mind spins, struggling to reconcile the timeline. Did Heeseung lie? Or did something else happen, something out of his control?

“He’s scum. All he cares about is sex. And for you to think he could be happy with you—” She shakes her head.

“That’s not true! Your source lied, Chisa. He didn’t force Karina to have an abortion! He’s not sneaking off to Jeju every weekend to sleep with someone new! It’s all rumors, and the press has it twisted. They’re making his life hell! I couldn’t let you publish that article. It would have ruined him.”

Chisa’s expression shifts, her glare turning into something almost unrecognizable. Hurt mingles with her anger, and her voice trembles as she fires back, “So what? It was better to ruin me?”

You snap.

“Not everything is about you, Chisa! He’s a person too, with real feelings! He’s been through so much and he doesn’t deserve this!” You take a shaky breath, your voice still trembling with emotion. “There will always be another article to write, another person to exploit but Heeseung doesn’t deserve it. Get over yourself.”

Chisa’s face falls, her eyes wide with disbelief but you don’t give her a chance to respond. You turn on your heel and storm to your room, slamming the door shut behind you.

Your chest heaves as you lean against the door, your mind racing. This is not how things were supposed to go. You weren’t supposed to fight with Chisa—not like this.

You take a shaky breath and push off the door, fumbling to plug your phone into the charger. Impatience gnaws at you and you grab your laptop instead flipping it open and opening your messaging app.

Messages flood the screen. Texts from Chisa, Dani, even Miss Min.

7:25 pm | chiz🧸: where are you? game night started!!! 7:50 pm | chiz🧸: nvm yunho told me you can’t make it 10:49 pm | chiz🧸: im back home now where r u loser 12:15 am | chiz🧸: ? 

You close the tab, your chest tightening as guilt seeps in.

4:32 am | danielle: do you know why heeseung called the office to postpone the announcement???

You let out a sigh of relief. Heeseung hadn’t changed his mind. He tried to stop it. You make a mental note to respond to Dani later, opting to read Miss Min’s messages.

4:55 am | Boss: You need to meet with Heeseung and Sakura. Get them aligned again. 10:37 am | Boss: The announcement is moving forward. It’s what his parents want.

So that’s what happened. A new message pings on your screen, it’s from Heeseung.

12:08 pm | heeseung: just saw the news. i’m so sorry 12:08 pm | heeseung: i don’t know what happened but i’ll fix it. 12:08 pm | heeseung: i’m on my way to meet with sakura now.

You don’t respond, instead you fall against your bed frame overwhelmed. Tears threaten to spill but you blink them back, refusing to let them fall. This can be fixed you try to reason, yeah. This can be fixed. Instead of wallowing in tears, you strip off your clothes and head into the bathroom. A hot shower…that’ll make everything better.

The water warms your skin, soothing your tense muscles as you try to wash away the sweat and grime from the night before. But your mind won’t stop racing. You think about Heeseung. About boundaries you’ll need to set with him. About Chisa—her hurt, her anger, the way she shoved you. The memory stings as do her words. You wonder if you’ll ever be okay again.

Steam fills the room, but it doesn’t clear the haze in your mind. All you can do is stand there, letting the water wash over you, hoping it’ll drown out your sadness. You spend over an hour in there, letting the water wash over you and your thoughts consume you.

When you exit the shower, the bathroom is silent save for the steady drip of water from the showerhead as you step out, your skin flushed from the heat. You grab a towel and wrap it around yourself, your hands moving on autopilot as you dry off. The warmth of the shower clings to your skin providing some comfort.

You pull on a pair of soft sweatpants and an oversized hoodie before padding back into your bedroom, you glance at your phone charging on the nightstand. Its screen lights up repeatedly, vibrating with an almost frantic urgency.

Frowning, you unplug it. The moment it’s in your hand, it buzzes again, a steady stream of notifications flooding the screen. Text after text appears, the sheer volume of them making your stomach churn.

Your sister’s name catches your eye, her message buried among others from Dani, Heeseung, and even Jaehyun.

Your breath hitches. Your sister hasn’t spoken to you in months. She claims to be too busy with her husband and kids but truthfully you think she just can’t stomach being around you knowing each conversation you’ll bring up your mother.

Why is she reaching out now?

Before you can open her messages, another text pops up at the top of the screen from Jaehyun.

12:12 pm | hyunie🐶: are you okay?

Your chest tightens. A gnawing sense of dread climbs up your spine as you respond

12:13 pm | you: ??? 12:13 pm | hyunie🐶: you haven’t seen? 12:14 pm | you: seen what?

The three dots indicating he’s typing appear and you hold your breath, dread pooling in your stomach. When the link comes through, you click it without thinking.

Your heart plummets as you read the headline: Heeseung’s Secret Romance: Scandal Behind the Engagement.

The article is a brutal exposé, detailing Heeseung’s past controversies, his relationship with Karina, the lies about the abortion then him trying to rebrand by leeching off of Sakura through an engagement and finally, the revelation of an affair. Chisa posted it anyway. She posted the exposé.

Your breath comes in short, shallow gasps as you skim the article. Chisa’s words are scathing, painting you as a homewrecker and Heeseung as a manipulative womanizer. She leaves you nameless but the implications are clear, this is her firing back at you.

Your phone buzzes again and you almost drop it. Jaehyun is calling.

You answer, your voice barely above a whisper. “Hello?”

“Is it true?” 

“...Yes.”

“Shit. Okay. Look, stay off your phone. Don’t read any more of it, okay? Yunho and I are coming over.”

You nod instinctively forgetting he can’t see you. “Okay.”

“Just… don’t spiral. We’ll be there soon.”

The call ends but you don’t put your phone down. You can’t. The panic bubbling inside you demands an outlet and ignoring it feels impossible. Against Jaehyun’s advice, you open Twitter.

Your name is trending. So are Heeseung's and Sakura’s.

You click on the hashtag, your heart pounding as you scroll through the tweets. Each tweet feels like a slap to the face, but you can’t stop. You keep scrolling, the comments getting worse and worse.

A new post catches your eye, a link to a Naver article. The thumbnail is a picture of you and Heeseung walking out of the hotel bar after your one-on-one meeting. The title is even worse than Chisa’s: Lee Heeseung’s Mistress Revealed: The Marriage Counselor Who Betrayed the Nation’s Princess

The article is a gallery of photos and commentary, each image scrutinizing your every move. This one names you outright, detailing how you entered Heeseung’s life as a marriage counselor assigned to help him and Sakura navigate their engagement.

Instead of counseling the couple, sources claim ____ became romantically involved with Heeseung, undermining Sakura, a beloved actress and national icon. Photographic evidence further suggests a relationship that goes beyond professionalism.

Photographs accompany the text.

Him picking you up for dinner, his hand resting casually on the small of your back.

You walking into the restaurant on valentines holding the bouquet he gave you.

You entering his home late at night.

You leaving this morning, followed by a quick shot of him kissing you goodbye.

The captions are unsavory.

“Caught in the act: ____ leaving Lee Heeseung’s home after a cozy night in.”, “A romantic dinner for two—how long has this been going on?”

You scroll down to the comments, your vision blurring as you read them.

⤑ she’s disgusting. how dare she betray sakura like this? +1,102 ⤑ heeseung’s trash but she’s worse. she’s supposed to be a counselor? what a joke 💀 +874 ⤑ poor sakura. she deserves so much better (╥﹏╥) +2,347 ⤑ omo she’s so brazen 💀 +366

Your chest tightens painfully and your hands begin to shake. The more you scroll, the worse it gets.

⤑ she knew exactly what she was doing. she’s a homewrecker. +613 ⤑ imagine being this desperate. she’s ruined her career for what? a fling? ㅋㅋㅋㅋ +1,209 ⤑ sakura is the nation’s princess. this woman is a nobody. she doesn’t deserve him. +4,102

Your breath comes in shallow gasps as the room seems to shrink around you. Your phone trembles in your hands, and the screen darkens for a moment, forcing you to see your own reflection—tear-streaked and unrecognizable.

You sink to the floor, your back pressed against your bed, the phone slipping from your grasp. A loud creak breaks through the haze.

The door to your room opens slowly and you look up to see Chisa standing there, her expression is unreadable, somewhere between anger and exhaustion.

For a moment, neither of you speaks.

Your lips part to say something—anything—but the words catch in your throat.

Chisa steps farther into the room, her gaze sharp and accusing. “You’ve turned into him, you know.”

You blink, confused. “What?”

Her lips curl into a bitter smile but there’s no humor in it. “Your dad. You’ve turned into your father.”

“I…”

“You always hated him for what he did to your mom,” Chisa continues, her voice rising with every word. “Every time he cheated, every time he lied, every time your mom sat crying in the kitchen, you hated him. You swore you’d never be like him. That’s why you became a marriage counselor, isn’t it? To stop people like him from ruining their families.”

Your heart pounds as memories flood back—your mother’s tear-streaked face, Chisa’s arms wrapped around you as she whispered, It’s going to be okay, I've got you. But now…

Chisa’s voice drops, the anger giving way to something softer, sadder. “And yet, here you are. Sleeping with someone else’s fiancée. How do you think that makes me feel? Watching you become the very thing you hate most?”

You open your mouth to defend yourself but the truth lodges itself in your throat. The excuses you’ve told yourself—Heeseung and Sakura aren’t really in love, their relationship isn’t real, this is different—feel hollow without him here to hold you, to remind you that you aren’t a monster because even if the engagement wasn’t real, Sakura’s feelings for Heeseung are and you knew that, you knew and still went for it.

The thought grips you, your stomach twisting as guilt crashes over you like a tidal wave. You’re no better than your father.

“Chisa…” Your voice is barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean—”

“Didn’t mean what? To hurt people? To betray the one person you were supposed to help? You think that makes it better?”

Tears blur your vision but you don’t bother wiping them away.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

Chisa shakes her head. “Sorry doesn’t fix this. Sorry doesn’t undo what you’ve done. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re exactly like him.”

For a moment, you think she’s going to leave but she lingers in the doorway, her gaze softening just enough to twist the knife.

“He’s not a good person,” she says finally, her voice quiet but firm. “And neither are you, if you keep letting him drag you down.”

The door clicks shut behind her, leaving you alone in the suffocating silence. The room feels colder after Chisa leaves. Her words play on a loop in your head, relentless and unforgiving.

“You’ve turned into him.”

“You’re exactly like him.”

You press your palms to your eyes, trying to block out the memory but it’s no use. It claws at you.

Chisa had been there for all of it—every fight, every slammed door, every tear your mother cried. She’d been the one who stayed up with you in your room, distracting you with dumb jokes and snack runs when the shouting downstairs became too much. She was the one who held you when you sobbed after catching your father’s texts to another woman, promising you that you’d never have to deal with anything like that when you were older.

Not your sister.

She had her own way of dealing with it. When things got bad, she’d leave, disappearing for days at a time. Spending nights at friends’ houses, coming back only when she couldn’t avoid it anymore. Then she left altogether—first for college, then for her own life, far away from the wreckage of your family.

Chisa stayed.

She was more of a sister to you than your actual sister ever was. She sat through the storm with you soaked in the same despair and somehow managed to hold you together when you thought you might break apart.

And now, after everything, you’ve betrayed her.

The irony tastes bitter, twisting in your gut like a knife. You didn’t just become the thing you despised; you became the thing that broke your family.

Your phone buzzes again from where it lies abandoned on the floor. You glance at it, reluctant to pick it up but the notifications don’t stop. They come in rapid succession, each one a reminder of how far this has spiraled out of control.

Your hands shake as you reach for it, curiosity overriding the gnawing dread. The screen lights up, showing messages from people you haven’t spoken to in years—college acquaintances, coworkers, even distant family.

You clutch the phone tighter, staring at the screen without seeing it. it’s all too much. Finally, you set the phone aside and pull your knees to your chest.

You don’t cry.

Instead, you sit there in silence, replaying everything in your mind. The choice to be with Heeseung, your night spent tangled in his arms, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world. You don’t regret any of it—not the moments you shared, not the feelings that grew despite everything stacked against you. What you feel for him is real and that’s something no headline or scandal can take away.

But you also can’t ignore the fallout. Your career lies in ruins, Chisa, your best friend—your sister in every sense of the word wants nothing to do with you and the trust you’d spent years building with her is gone. You’ve lost her and the weight of that is unbearable.

The word temptation floats to the surface of your mind. It’s what started all of this, isn’t it? The pull of something you can’t have, the magnetic force of wanting someone you weren’t meant to want. 

You don’t regret Heeseung but you do regret everything it’s cost you. Temptation led you here. Desire kept you here.

And for the first time, you’re not sure how to fix it.

➤ taglist: @adoredbyjay @acousarah @fancypeacepersona @lovingvoidgoatee @seungjiseyo @starry-eyed-bimbo @cloud-lyy @lprww @mitmit01 @cupiddolle @heestruck @sol3chu @xylatox  @planetmarlowe @M1kkso @clandestineself @yuniesluv @wonniesdoll @i03jae @aggarwaldrishti @jakesfurry @hanversace @right-person-wrong-time @missychief1404 @iamliacamila @jaems-left-toe @heesngmluv @ssanhwatto @itsyagirll @theothernads

[passmethatcokezero]

hot and bothered... (18+ // woozi!friends with benefits au) pt.1

- jihoon x fem!reader - 2.7k words - warnings: smut. minors dni! bff!woozi is hot and bothered at work so bff!you came to the rescue, dry humping, blowjob, needy jihoon cos why not, made so quick cos I was missing him and he has been living in my mind rent free since the day i saw him on the carts ( i wasnt same since then and thoughts have been thunk so here's a fraction of those thoughts ), just a short one, but thinking of making a part two continuation. enjoy! - (prequel link at the end of second part cos i think we all need it)

“You alright?” The silence breaks, as the words from your mouth betrayed yourself. You didn’t really want to speak first, although you did feel the air has now gotten a little lighter compared earlier.

It was Seungkwan’s stupid plan; the guys had been sick of staying up all night after hours of practice for a few days now just to please their dear producer. No one can seem to thaw him, moreso pinpoint where the tension is rooted from. Obviously, it was self-inflicted pressure. Jihoon can’t understand why nobody seems to meet his expectations lately and it got bad to the point of Seokmin blaming himself for what seemed like delays but aren’t as they still got plenty of time before the next comeback. Seungkwan, hurt, seeing his talented friend’s self-esteem chase tears down his cheeks, stepped up by calling you over because “maybe you can do something about your best friend,” as he said.

Jihoon sighed as he slumps his body deep in his chair. You’ve made your presence known since earlier when Soonyoung was trying to ease the tension but you kept your mouth shut or else Jihoon might explode knowing you’re just going to take the poor boy’s side who was even more in tears brought therein by your comforting strokes on his arm. “You came here for what exactly?”

“Excuse me?” you scoffed at his words. “Seungkwan called me. For some reason I thought I was coming for a celebration and yet…”

Silence takes over once again. The boys had long been gone since Bumzu initiated that everyone should take a breather first, and secretly asking you to stay and maybe help clear up your friend’s mind. “I don’t even know why the boys kept on doing this, okay? Suddenly all the pressure’s on me whenever you’re acting up.”

You did not want to say it, but it had been a long day at work and hearing his snarky voice ticked you in a bad way.

“I am just tired.” Jihoon says almost immediately, as if not wanting you to say anything more. He massaged his temples and continued, “...tired as fuck.”

“But that does not excuse that kind of attitude!” you stood from the couch, rising with the tension inside the room. “You’re being too hard on the boys and yourself. Again.” You cursed under your breath, realizing the cringy tone that just left your mouth. The last time the same exact nagging tone came out, Jihoon’s anxiety was having a field day in his brain just like earlier, and you did not expect what happened after.

And then it came to you. Soon you were flooded with flashbacks from what happened that night: Jihoon aggressively pinning you by the door, meaning to actually open it and let you out, when all of a sudden you pulled him into an embrace in an attempt to calm him down, crashing your lips to his after a long eye-fucking, breath kissing when you caught him off guard, blushing from the sudden warmth. Not long after he responded, kissing you hard as if you were not just shedding tears arguing with him over his sharp words when you were just asking him to simply breathe during a heated exchange with Soonyoung over the phone. The kiss went wild yet slowly turned comfortable as he kept on apologizing, feeling your hot tears meet his burning red cheeks. You figured he needed it that time, like a de-stressor of some sorts, and so you let his mouth conquer yours as a way to help.

That kiss went longer than what friends could actually share. But if it's the only way to keep your friend sane that moment, you suppose you can let him use you as long as he is not going to be weird about it right after. Which he did, or so you thought.

Because that day never left his mind. He was not sure why you let him kiss you like that that night, nor why you did not even bother to ask about it days, weeks after. A bit hurt that it seemed like a casual thing for you, but for him it meant healing, washing away the anxiety clouding his thinking. That moment stayed on his mind unhealthily long, almost turned into songs he would never write and let you hear, even causing him to get wet dreams for quite a while. But of course, no one could know. Not about the kiss. Not even his budding feelings towards his best friend.

“Jihoon-ah…” you exhaled, turning his swivel to face you. “I can help, Just… tell me how..”

Both of you had the same thing in mind, he needed you just like that night. But why does he find it hard to admit it? 

The guy blushed in pink, avoiding your eyes at all cost, acting as if in deep-thought. “I…”

“Look at me,” he obeys in a second, but his eyes can't help but fall into your lips inches away from him. “Do you want…. my help?”

He nods subtly as an answer, but you can’t just accept that. You needed him firm, an answer to also clear your doubts about the way his eyes are glued to your lips, his ears blushed to the reddest of red, and the way his adam’s apple bobbed up and down when you leaned in closer: is he nervous because he’s uncomfortable? or was he nervous because you suddenly make him be?

“Yeah…” his breath hitches, the side of your lips upturns.

“Then say it—”

“I need you,” he reveals his innermost desire as he scrambles to his feet and catches your lips like he has been waiting for it for centuries.

Just like the first time, the kiss deepens instantly as you two found a comfortable position on the couch, you settling on his lap, arms around his shoulders. You two couldn't even care less if the door had been left unlocked when the people had left. It’s just your mouth sharing warmth with his; tongues dancing together in harmony. Just like the first time, he was craving for more, and he was able to relay that message when his teeth grazed at your lower lip, causing a moan to escape your lungs. He too groaned and by then you realized he is now rock hard underneath your heat, his thin shorts revealing himself to your clothed mound. 

“Fuck…” you did not expect yourself to be so turned on knowing you made your best friend erect just like that. All you did was wet kissing and well, maybe sitting right above his cock was what it all took.

You arched your back when you felt him squirm underneath you. He was definitely trying to move and find his rhythm, you thought, so you matched with his and rolled your hips against his erection.

“Damn….” he moaned so deeply with his hoarse voice. The friction between your clothed pussy and his bulge was enough to send you dripping to your core. Not even him, the most rational person you knew, can think straight at a moment like this: does he want to kiss your neck or pull you for another tongue wrestling? Does he want to tear all the annoying garments away from you? Does he want to set his cock free and let you sit on it, ride it if it’s too tempting for you? There’s one thing he knows though, he does not want to stop humping for now. The kind of pleasure the friction is giving him, plus the fact that he was doing such an erotic activity with not just any person but his best friend he had been fantasizing about lately was enough to send him nuts. He cannot even fathom what would happen if this escalates to something more, just having your warmth and your equally heightened libido had his focus on the now.

“You’re so hard, Jihoon.”

It felt so good and ego-boosting at the same time. Is he having a good time as well? He seems to like it as much as you do. His erection and hip movements to meet yours say it all: he wants you so bad and you feel proud someone actually desires you that much. When even was the last time you got laid? Was it a very long time ago? You aren’t sexually active yourself, and surprisingly, you’ve never been in a serious relationship as well. Maybe it wasn’t your priority, but having this heated session with your friend, you realized, you also craved to be touched, and be wanted. You wanted to be kissed deeply and ravenously, to be held possessively, and to be wanted as hungrily as how Jihoon was making you feel. Exactly as how Jihoon is obsessing for all that you are right now.

“Touch me. Please, Jihoon…” 

The dry humping must have had a drug, you thought. How come having all these annoying barriers on your skin makes all these way hotter than you thought it could be? Especially when Jihoon’s feisty hands made their way from your waist to the insides of your shirt while his sloppy kisses made their way to your neck. His cold hands cupping your breasts send electricity to your spine, causing you to moan out his name as dirty and needy as possible. Who could blame you, he was making you feel so good. His hands that created masterpieces are now invading your privacy, so sweetly yet so heavy with emotions. It was as if he was milking out lyrics to an explicit love song out of you, to match the melodies coming out of your lungs that harmonize with his.

“You’re so fucking hot, you know that?” he managed to say between breaths, as he enjoys playing with your now slightly free breasts that had slipped out of your bra. He is still a boy, you found that out long time ago, when you’ve caught him subtly staring at your chest during that one listening party night you were his plus one at a bar hosted by a producer friend and you just had to wear something skimpy and rather revealing, something to match the R&B vibe of the album. He did catch himself as well staring that time, and proceeded to lend you his suit because “the bartender was having the time of his life flirting with you," - went his alibi.

“Yeah? That’s why you wanted me so bad huh?—oh shit!” you moaned out loud when his hold on you became heavier, pushing you down to his hardened cock as if there were anymore spaces left in between.

Mouths agape, together you humped against each other's heat, only moans were resonating inside his studio alongside a minute sound of the friction cause by the fabrics.

“Fuck I think gonna cum, fuck,” Jihoon cursed, while his eyes were shut and his teeth gritted to concentration. “Fuck,” he humps against you harder as curses kept on rolling from his tongue, while your hips rolled faster to meet his tempo, moans pitched higher and higher. You were also close, and suddenly you were reminded this isn’t about you. You were helping your friend. And you gotta do what you gotta do.

“Wai-wha—what are you doing?” his voice sounded annoyed but you know better than to answer him. Legs folding on the floor as you positioned yourself in between his, not wasting time in pulling twice the constraints that were his shorts and underwear. His cock sprung healthily, all pink and angry, veins bulging out as if wanted to be traced by your tongue.

He hissed out of breath, confused if he wanted to surrender on the couch or look at you in a position he had only dreamt of once. 

No words need exchanging as you started sucking him off right there, mixing his precum with saliva, coating him down until your mouth can take. He had praises for you behind his teeth but all he could let out were needy guttural moans that translated how good you were making him feel anyway. You let his moans and the sight of him all sweaty and consumed fuck your system as the pool in your south continued to dampen your undies, the insides of your thighs getting ticklish, missing the attention it has gotten from him. Oh how badly you wanted him to fuck you right then and there, how badly you want him bucking his hips and drilling you so deep, how badly you wanted this thick cock of his inside you, stretching you oh so painfully yet so pleasurable.

“fuck… cant… anymore…” his shaky words were almost inaudible from all the dirty noises he was making, sounding even more gibberish while his body moved erratically to fuck your mouth, hands glued to your head to try to get his momentum, which did not take long as strings of cum exploded inside your mouth. You were quick to swallow, but most of his loads were still overflowing, racing down to your chin straight to your neck. It was one heck of a view, he thinks, as his chest heaves chasing his breath while appreciating a bit of the scene: his softening cock popping out of your mouth, before almost passing out.

“that was… really good.” it was probably an understatement to the euphoric climax he just had; his mind was still hazy from the release so he cannot find the correct words to tell you. But you were fine, the moans already sounded like praises to you. “That feels much better than I do with my own.”

“Of course it would,” you gave him a peck on the corner of his lips, and then dusting off the wrinkles on your clothes and adjusting your bra. “Takes two to tango.”

Confusion was then plastered on his face when you began fixing your hair and proceeding to face your back to grab your bag you left by the table. “What are you doing?”

“Leaving?”

“Who said you are?”

Somewhere in the room, his phone rings which he attentively checks. The name wasn’t supposed to annoy the hell out of him, but right now it almost spelled like a curse to him.

“You’re not leaving, please.” he grabs your hand as he takes the call from Bumzu. He knows you did not have your release, and he doesn’t want you carrying all that unreleased tension inside you when he himself had the best one tonight. 

You heard the other line asking how he was feeling now and that he had left something inside the studio and if it’s okay to go and get it. Jihoon agrees, not without a defeated sigh and a click of his tongue only you can hear.

“You know the passcode right? I think I’ll take my leave tonight, I don’t think I can wring anything out of my mind at this rate.”

You looked at him while shaking your head as a smirk forms on your mouth, furrowing your eyebrows at him as if asking him what he was saying.

“Sure, actually we’ve been meaning to tell you that.” Bumzu seconds him, and asks about you right after. You heard him say Seokmin and Seungkwan had been asking if you weren’t busy and maybe hangout for a while as a way to thank you from earlier. Both guys had always been the sweetest among the bunch and although it was only out of courtesy, Jihoon can’t help but fume in jealousy, making himself lie to keep you in his (and ONLY HIS) sight for a while.

“She just left, I think she said she’s going for an early appointment tomorrow,” and ends the call soon when Bumzu bids his farewell and hopes of him getting well.

“I didn’t know you can lie to your brothers,”

“For an emergency yeah,” he hasn’t let go of your hand yet, and now he was already leading you out of his studio to the elevator.

“You could just say you’re sending me home, that would sound a lot better,”

And then what, you finding out about how the guys had been teasing him about you since day one? Of course, he won’t let that happen. Not until he finds the time to finally be honest with himself and to you.

“So… my place or yours?”

-

stay tuned for part two for the hoo-haa ;)

a/n: updated! part two is up! again, there's a prequel you can read after. link will be at the end of the second part ^^

[bookshelf-dust]

kiss it better

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3,176

warnings: swearing, sick fic (sorta), steve not taking care of himself, anxiety, stress, mental breakdown?, best friends to lovers deal (let me know if i missed something)

a/n: hi! it’s been awhile. i’m sorry about that. this has been a very slow process for me. my mental health is shit, and that’s probably obvious. i hope it hasn’t seeped into this too much, but it probably will with the next few things i write. i apologize for taking so long to post, for disappearing, for not really making this the blog it once was. but i’m not the same person i was then. so we’ll see where this goes. i hope you enjoy this one a little. i love you.

————

The shrill sound of a phone ringing scares you awake, eyes flying open, heart pounding so aggressively you fear for a split second that it might burst. 

You sit up quickly, enough so that you make yourself dizzy trying to get your bearings. You roll onto your side, and reach blindly across the edge of your nightstand, grabbing for the green plastic that’s shaking with the force of which it’s ringing. 

You almost fall out of bed, just managing to catch yourself as you bring the phone to your ear. 

“Hello?”

Your voice comes out weak, thick with sleep and the longing for more rest. It startles you and makes you clear your throat. 

“Hey, it’s me.”

The voice on the other line is even weaker than your own. It’s quiet.

“Steve?”

Your eyes find the alarm clock on your dresser, bright red letters telling you it’s just after one in the morning. You might be half-asleep, but you’re conscious enough that your heart rate picks up, registering that this isn’t when your best friend normally calls. 

You hear him breathe, along with some shuffling. He’s nodding his head, but realizes you can’t see. 

“Yeah. Listen,” he drags a shaking hand down his face. “I’m sorry to call so late.”

“Hey, it’s okay. What’s the matter? Is something wrong?”

He goes quiet for a moment, but you wait patiently for him to continue. He must be trying to get something out, and you don’t want to pressure him, or cause him stress in any way. 

Steve huffs, frustrated with himself. 

“I-I’ve got an insane headache, and we’re out of goddamn medicine. My parents were here, and my mom was hungover and I guess she must’ve emptied us out, but it hurts too bad to drive, and…” He trails off, breathing heavily. 

His pause lends you a moment to process, and you decide to speak up. If his head is killing him, you know finding the energy to speak to you, let alone call, has to be draining. You wouldn’t want him to suffer anymore than he already is. 

“Stevie?” you start, happy to hear a small hum that encourages you to go on. He registers what you’ve called him, something you don’t call him often, and his chest aches. “I’ve got some I can bring you. I think all the drugstores nearby are closed.” 

You swing your legs out from under the covers, pushing yourself off the mattress. Pressing the phone between your cheek and shoulder, you pull on the pair of sweats slung over the end of your bed, trying not to bust your ass as you hop into them. 

“Is anything else hurting you?” you ask, gently as can be. 

“Honestly?” he responds. “I think I’m sick. I can’t be sick, can I?”

You stand upright once again, taking the phone firmly in your hand. 

“I think even King Steve can get sick from time to time. I’ll be there soon, okay?”

————

Steve’s not sure you understand him. He can’t be sick. He’s got shit to do. He has a shift tomorrow, and he’s pretty sure Dustin needs a ride one day this week because Claudia is on a “girls trip.” He has to keep working on his college essay, because he’d told you he was almost done, but really he isn’t. 

Steve doesn’t have the time to be sick. And he can’t have you ruining your own schedule to come and babysit him. He’s supposed to be the babysitter. Not the charge. 

He should be able to take care of himself, but of course, the one time his parents come home they clean out his mediocre supply of medicine. Something he’s always stocked up on, given his tendency to get the shit beat out of him, or the nasty string of tension headaches that just won’t quit. 

And his head is killing him. He has his palms pressed to his temples, trying (and failing) to dull the ache. There aren’t any lights on in the kitchen, where he’s sitting on the floor, back pressed to the cabinets. 

He’s trying not to move too much either, because he’s dizzy. This probably has to do with the fact that he skipped dinner, feeling too nauseous to eat. Now that Steve is hungry, he fears he won’t be able to get up and fix anything. 

Maybe you’ll be able to help, he thinks. But that voice is quick with a counter argument. No. I need to do it. 

He perks up at the sound of the front door opening. “Steve?” you call out, careful not to slam the door or yell too loud. It’s also why you hadn’t rung the doorbell. 

Steve raps his knuckles softly against the countertop, hoping it’ll be enough to clue you in. He can’t bring himself to shout right now. You follow the sound, taking the few steps toward the kitchen. 

When your eyes lock on his figure, see the way the heels of his hands press into his eyes, you realize how young he looks. He almost looks small, legs pulled up to his chest, big, lanky body compacted as much as possible. He looks vulnerable. You’re sure he hates that. 

“Hi, Steve,” you say, keeping your voice low. 

He looks up at you, and his face splits into a sweet grin. He’s happy that you’re here, even if that voice is screaming at him, wanting to punish him for asking for help. 

“Hey, honey.” You smile back at him, and his heart rate picks up. Sometimes he forgets how beautiful you are, and then you’re standing in front of him, snatching every last breath from his lungs. 

You set your bag down beside him and reach out, brushing his hair back from his forehead. He feels a little warm, but not feverishly so. 

You move away from him, grabbing a cup from the drying rack. You fill it up with water and crouch at his side. Steve takes the glass from you, head resting against the cabinet to watch as you grab him some medicine. You hand him a few pills, and he takes them quickly. If he doesn’t get this headache calmed down soon, he thinks he might just die. 

Steve keeps drinking the water you gave him, and you push his hair back again, watching the way it curls around his ears. 

He drinks about half of the water before he pauses, taking a deep breath. He looks at you then. It’s mostly dark in the kitchen, but the lamp on the table by the front door is on, so you’re a little backlit from it. Not to mention the moonlight seeping in from the window above the sink.

You look gorgeous. And you came over to take care of him. You got up, at one in the morning, and drove to his house, just because he asked you to. Hell, he hadn’t even asked. He hadn’t gotten the words out. But you’d known. You’d known exactly what he was trying to ask, and you’d offered your help with no qualms. 

Steve’s nose starts to sting, and that pressure from behind his eyes—it starts to release. Before he knows it, his vision is getting cloudy, and he’s crying. He can’t be crying, can he? 

You carefully remove the glass from his hand and move in between his spread knees. 

“Steve, it’s okay. I’m here, and I’m gonna take top notch care of you.” 

“I know you are,” he says, voice breaking. “But I should be able to do it myself. I always do it myself.” He presses his hands against his face, but you catch his wrists and gently pull them away. 

You hold your arms out, and Steve practically falls into you. He buries his face in your neck. He can feel the warmth of your skin, the cotton of your sleep shirt. You smell like soap, that fancy conditioner you use. 

One of your hands finds the base of his neck, nails scratching gently over his scalp, thumb dragging over the top of his spine. Your other rubs soothingly up and down his back. 

“But the thing is, Stevie, you don’t have to.” 

He’s not a loud crier. But he is sort of panicky, breaths coming quick and short, chest heaving against your own. “I know you’ve always had to do a lot by yourself, but you can ask for help, and you don’t have to punish yourself for it, either.”

You feel him nod against your collarbone. His hands are fisting the back of your shirt. Eventually, he pulls away, but keeps his eyes closed. He tries to keep his head turned from your gaze. 

“Hey. Look at me.”

He does, albeit reluctantly. Steve’s cheeks are flushed, lashes clumped together and lips parted where he tries to suck in a good deep breath. 

You reach up, fingers gently sweeping away the remainder of the tears on his face. He leans into your touch, and you let him. You lean forward and press a sweet kiss to his forehead. You’ve never done that before.

Steve recognizes that you’ve never done it before, even if it’s sort of fuzzy. Sure, he’s kissed the back of your hand and you’ve reciprocated, but he’s usually the one to initiate physical affection. You’re too shy most often, even if you ache to do it. 

Fuck, he wishes he were a little more coherent right now. 

“Can you stand for me? It’s late, and I think you need to rest.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sure.” Now that he’s thinking about it, getting in bed sounds so nice. 

You stand first, and watch as Steve pushes off the floor, gripping the countertop on the way up to steady himself. 

“Come on. The stairs are gonna be a pain.”

He reaches out for you, and you let him take your arm. He pads out to the staircase, and you watch each precarious step he takes, hoping he won’t get too woozy and trip. 

By the time he finally makes it up there, he’s wrapped both arms around your waist and buried his face between your shoulder blades. You soften beneath his hold. 

You walk slowly towards his bedroom, and he waddles behind you. You push the door open. “M’kay, Steve. Wanna change clothes and hop into bed?” 

He pulls off of you and grabs hold of his dresser. “I’m not givin’ you a free show.”

You snort. “I’ll go get some more water and be right back.”

His grin fades. “Please be fast.” He doesn’t want you to go. He doesn’t want you to leave him. 

“Steve, I’m practically The Flash.”

He laughs, pulling a pair of sweats and a t-shirt out of the drawer. Usually he’d sleep in less, but with you here he feels he should keep his modesty.

When you return, he takes the water from you, drinking it faster than he probably should. Steve feels like he’s had the shit beat out of him, and for once—he hasn’t. 

You’d sat down on the edge of the bed, not noticing the way he’s staring at you. You look up when he sets the glass down. He drags both hands down his face. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

He exhales. “I want you to stay here with me, but I don’t want you to get sick. The idea of you being on the couch, which is like, miles away, is driving me insane.”

“Steve?”

“Huh?”

“Can’t I just sleep on the futon?”

His eyes move towards the other side of his room where said piece of furniture is pressed against the wall. He’d bought it when group sleepovers became a thing after all they’d dealt with. Jesus, his brain really isn’t working. 

“Oh. Yeah, honey. Just don’t want you to go far.” 

You lean forward and push his hair back from his forehead. You’ll need to remember to take his temperature come morning.

“I’m not going anywhere, Steve. I promise. Not until you’re all better.”

————

When Steve wakes up, you’re not there. He starts to panic, thinking maybe he’d been too much, maybe he’d shown you a side of himself he shouldn’t have, that maybe you left. 

But you return to his room just as he’s about to start looking for you. There’s a thermometer in your hand. 

“Morning, sleepy boy. Are you coherent enough for me to check your temperature? Or no?”

He yanks the covers off of himself, and his shirt has ridden up. You catch a sliver of tummy before he sits up fully, and you miss it the second it’s gone. 

“Hit me, I can take it.”

You roll your eyes but stick the thermometer under his tongue when he opens his mouth. When you pull it away, you’re happy to see he hasn’t got a fever. He was warm last night when you kissed his forehead, but you’re thinking it was from stress or just overheating. 

“No fever. What’s buggin’ you today, Stevie?”

He flops onto his back, and his shirt rides up again. You mentally slap yourself for being so enamored by it. All your brain can compute is tummy. Steve’s tummy. “My head still, and my stomach. I feel like I haven’t slept in four years.”

His words snap you out of your reverie. “Four years? That’s incredible. When’s the last time you ate something?”

Steve stares at you for a moment, though it looks as if there isn’t a single thought behind his eyes. “Yesterday…morning. I think. Yeah, I had a banana.”

You stare back, rather appalled at his statement. “Steve.”

“Hm?”

“All you’ve had to eat in the past twenty four hours is a banana?”

“Yep.”

“Jesus christ. Get your ass up and come with me.”

Steve doesn’t move. Rather he watches you move, right out the door and towards the top of the stairs. You pause and turn around, crossing your arms. 

He huffs. And then he slides down the side of the bed like a child before crawling up and following you to the kitchen. 

Over the course of the next few hours, you manage to get Steve to eat, shower, and go for a short walk, weather permitting and all. He’s looking astronomically better than he did last night. 

Steve sits opposite you on the couch, his socked feet in your lap. “What do you think my deal is?”

You rub your hand over his calf. “I think you just had a little bug. Or maybe you let yourself get too stressed out and your body couldn’t take it.”

He blinks. “Is that…that's not a thing? Is it?”

“When’s the last time you gave yourself a fuckin’ break, Steve? When you just took a day for yourself rather than worrying about who needs to go where, or if you’ll have to cover a shift? You have to take care of yourself, or this is the kind of shit that happens.”

“Being overwhelmed about your parents, not eating, worrying about that application, all of that is fucking with you. That headache was probably a stress headache. They’re killer. I want you to be healthy and comfortable, Steve.”

You exhale, and close your eyes. When you open them, Steve has sat up, scooting towards you on your end of the couch. 

He might still be tired, but he can’t believe this. He can’t believe you. No one has ever worried for him in this way. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask. 

He barely even registers your words, too busy memorizing every line on your face. You look so fucking beautiful. It almost makes him angry. 

“I’m thinkin’ about how bad I want to kiss you.”

Your face starts to burn. You shove his shoulder. He looks at the place where you’d pushed, quirking a brow, but grinning nonetheless.

“What?”

“Steve, you can’t say shit like that.”

“How come?”

“Because we’re friends.”

“Best friends.”

“Well yeah, but best friends don’t say that to one another.”

His grin widens. He looks more awake than he has this entire time. 

“Oh, but you haven’t said it.”

You blink. “Huh?”

Steve gets his voice up that little bit higher, doing a cheap imitation of you. “‘Best friends don’t say that to one another.’ Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but that implies you want a kiss too, doesn’t it?”

You drag your hands down your face and flop back against the arm of the couch. 

“So you gonna say it, or what?” He’s shifted, and you can feel him hovering over you, but you refuse to move your hands. 

“Of course I’m thinking about kissing you, Steve.” You suck in a breath and open your eyes, locking with his own. “But you’ve got cooties.”

Steve rolls his eyes before he backs up and yanks on your ankle so that you’re flat against the couch. 

“You did not just lecture me about self-care just to tell me I have cooties. I didn’t even have a fever.” 

“I didn’t even have a fever,” you mock, lowering your voice in what is quite possibly the worst impression of him you could do.

He’s quick about it. Almost stealthy, not that you’d ever boost his ego by telling him so. But his fingers are reaching for your sides, the tips dancing over your shirt, that tiny sliver of hip showing where it’s ridden up. 

Steve is practically drunk off of your laugh. It’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard, and when he goes for your neck, when you tilt your head and trap his fingers between your cheek and shoulder, he thinks he could die. 

You and your laugh. The fact that you drove over at one in the fucking morning, without even thinking about it, just because you care. That you stayed the night, listened to his pitiful thoughts, took care of him…it’s too much. 

Never in his life did he think he’d find someone like you. Someone who makes him feel like he matters. You’d made him realize how smart he is, how capable. That he could do things for himself and not just to please his dickhead father. 

You have made him whole. 

He lets up when you start breathing extra heavily, only to tickle the underside of your foot before he quits, just to piss you off. You kick him in the side. 

“I think a kiss from my very favorite person might be the best form of self-care there is, honey.”

You sit up. “Wow. King Steve really never died.” He raises his hands like he might tickle you again, but you catch them before he can do any damage. “Okay, sorry!” 

Before he can register it, you’ve leaned in and pressed your lips to his. When he does realize, he lets out a surprised hum, and you can feel that smartass smirk forming on his face. 

When you pull away, he whines. 

“All better?”

Steve falls back against the couch, pulling you with him just to get that laugh out of you again. 

“I’m healed.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

[skzstannie]

“They hate me”

SKZ Drabble

Ot8 x insecure! 9th member! Reader

TW: none?? If you see something, lmk

Hi everyone! This is my first work on here, and I’m excited for more to come! I’d like to start off by saying this in no way represents SKZ/Yunho in real life; they are simply face claims for the characters.

Please comment or interact in some way so I know how you guys liked it!

“Yunho,” you sobbed, curling into his side from your spot on the couch, “they hate me.”

“Sweetheart, they don’t hate you. I can assure whatever you could’ve done could not make them hate you.” He tries to sooth your shaking form by running his hand through your hair, but you abruptly sit up.

“How do you know that? I was messing up all the choreo last night, and Chan had to re-record my lines for the new song 7 times.” You hold up seven fingers to add a bit of emphasis. “And 7 times is a lot. And then to top it off, I threw up in the practice room because of how anxious I was feeling about it all,” you finish.

“Why does any of that warrant them hating you? So what, you made a few mistakes. I’m sure they’ve all messed up the choreography before, too.” He brings you back into his side by wrapping his long arm around your shoulder. “As for you getting sick, how are you supposed to control that?”

“You should’ve seen them, though. They all had steam coming out of their ears. I don’t even think the 7th recording was any good, but Chan just couldn’t stand to deal with me anymore so he sent me out of the booth. Lee Know looked like he was gonna rip his hair out if he had to correct me one more time, and I could feel the looks from everyone during the whole dance practice.”

“Did you ask them about these things before you left? Or did you just leave yourself to deal with these awful assumptions about the people who love you endlessly?”

“I left right after I got sick, never even told them where I was going,” you huff.

Once you’ve said it out loud, you realize how royally stupid you’ve been, and you immediately jump out of Yunho’s arms to find your phone. “Shit, have you gotten any calls or messages from the guys? I’ve probably worried them sick.” You wrestle around with the contents of your bumbag til you found your, evidently dead, phone. You fumble with your charger before hurrying to the kitchen to plug it in.

“No, I haven’t. Nobody really knows about… us, or this thing going on between us, so I wouldn’t have expected them to.” He gets up from the couch and walks to stand behind you, peering over your shoulder at your phone.

“Come on, come on, turn on you stupid thing.” You repeatedly press the power button, only getting the low battery symbol in return. Your heart’s beating out of your chest with anxiety as your phone finally starts to boot up. “I’m literally an awful person. They’ve probably just about raided the whole city trying to find me.”

“Maybe not, they might still be calm and figured you just needed a night to collect yourself.”

With that, your phone comes alive, and immediately you’re overwhelmed by the buzzing of missed calls and unanswered text messages.

17 missed calls from Channie 🤞🏻❤️

11 missed calls from Leebit 🐰

20 messages from BinBin 😘

15 missed FaceTime calls from Hyune 🫶🏻🫶🏻

11 messages from Jisung 🐿️

37 messages from Sunshine ☀️

24 messages from Menace 🙃🙂

13 messages from Innie 🦊

“Oh my gosh,” you gasp. The longer you stare, the more messages flood your lock screen.

“It’s alright, don’t panic. Just give Chan a call, I’m sure they’ll understand.” He rests his chin on your shoulder and hugs you from behind, trying to provide you comfort. “Or they’ll come around eventually, anyway,” he mumbles under his breath.

You’re quick to find Chan’s contact, and you immediately press the ‘call’ button. You put it on speaker phone, not wanting to be alone in this conversation. “You don’t have to say anything; I just feel more comfortable this way,” you explain, not wanting to unnecessarily drag Yunho into this conversation.

“Y/n! We’ve been calling you all night and looking for you everywhere! Where the heck are you? We’re coming to get you right now,” you hear Chan fidgeting with keys before he yells to Hyunjin, telling him to come to the car.

You sigh before relenting and apologizing for being so irresponsible. “I’m so sorry I worried you guys like that, just another thing I’ve messed up.”

“I don’t know what you’re on about, but we’ll talk about it more when you’re home safe. Now, where are you?” You hear the desperation in his tone. He just wants to know you’re safe.

You realize the slight predicament you’ve come to, and glance up at Yunho, but he just shrugs his shoulders at you.

“I’m, uh, at Yunho’s?” It comes out as more of a question, and you hear a squeal from the other side of the phone.

“What the heck are you doing with Yunho?” Hyunjin screeches, seemingly grabbing the phone from Chan’s grasp.

“That’s enough, Hyunjin. We’ll be right there.” He promptly hangs up, leaving you to anxiously await their arrival.

“Why Hyunjin now? Why not literally anyone else?” Yunho slightly panics, pacing around the kitchen in circles.

“What’s wrong between you and Hyunjin?” You raise an eyebrow, suddenly interested in this new information.

“We don’t really have any bad blood, per sé, or at least I don’t think we do. He’s always giving me dirty looks and I don’t really know why.”

While you wait for Chan and Hyunjin to arrive, you explain to him not to worry about Hyunjin.

You and Hyunjin have always been the closest out of all the members since the very beginning, and he quickly became extremely protective of you. You told him about some of your past traumas, and he made it his personal mission in life to never let anything bad happen to you again. This apparently entails him giving every male you’ve ever interacted with dirty looks.

Speaking about this makes you feel even guiltier knowing Hyunjin has probably been out of his mind since last night, hence why Chan wanted him to go with.

You hear a pounding on the door that breaks up your story time, and you rush over to open it, leaving Yunho hiding in the kitchen.

Chan bursts through the door, with a fiery looking Hyunjin right behind him.

Chan gathers you in his arms, holding you so tight you think all your ribs might crack. You wrap your arms around him, too, holding him with all your might.

When Hyunjin storms in, all he sees is red. “Where is he, huh?” He goes straight for the kitchen, and you tense in Chan’s arms.

“Hyunjin, he did nothing wrong. I came to him last night. Please just, take a deep breath.” You know it’s wrong to try to console him, after all, you’re the reason he’s like this in the first place.

“Why weren’t you answering our calls or messages? Did he take your phone? Did he have you trapped somewhere?” He rants, his hands clenching in tight fists.

You unintentionally gasp, thinking about how horrible this must sound to Yunho knowing he could hear every word. “Hyunjin!” You yelp, “nothing bad happened to me here! My phone was dead, and I was a crying mess all night and didn’t even look to charge it.” You exasperate, pulling away from Chan to go comfort him.

He meets you halfway, meeting you just in front of the coffee table in the living room. He puts his hands on your shoulders, closely inspecting every inch of your skin. You grab his hands and wrap them around yourself in a hug, squeezing him tightly.

“I’m fine, I promise. I’m sorry for disappearing like that. It was really dumb of me. I just needed somewhere to clear my head, and Yunho was the first person I thought of.” You rest your head on his shoulder, loving the feeling of the way he was soothingly rubbing your back.

“Why’d you come all the way here? The guys and I were right with you in the practice room; you know we’ll listen to you any day.” He pulls away slightly, enough to bring one of his hands to your cheek, wiping a stray tear away.

“Because I was scared you guys were upset with me.” You mumble, shying away from his gaze.

“What on earth made you think that? We were so worried about you all day yesterday, wondering why you weren’t acting yourself. And then when you ran off, we had no idea where to look. Had no idea what was wrong.” Chan joined the hug, pressing his face warmly into the back of your hoodie.

“I thought because I was messing up so much yesterday, you all hated me. I saw the looks everyone was giving me. You’re trying to tell me they weren’t looks of annoyance?” You question. Pulling away from them both so you could better have the conversation.

“They weren’t looks of annoyance, well, maybe Seungmin’s was, but you know how he is. They were looks of concern, we couldn’t figure out what was going through that pretty head of yours. We were not upset with you. We’re all aware everyone has bad days, you were bound to have one eventually.” Chan explains, feeling sorry that you’ve had these awful thoughts since last night.

“I’m really sorry I worried you guys. Next time I’ll talk to you before I rush to conclusions.” You give them a shy smile before, once again, you’re pulled into a hug and squished between the 2 of them.

“It’s ok, we forgive you. Now, let’s get you home before the rest of the guys drive over here themselves.” Chan grabs your hand and starts to lead you to the door, but Hyunjin stops you guys.

“I still wanna know why, of all places, you came and spent the night at Yunho’s,” he raises an eyebrow at you, crossing his arms. You hear a cough from the kitchen, and you call Yunho out to the living room to officially introduce him as your boyfriend.

“I’ll tell you two, but you have to promise not to tell anyone else.” You wait for them to give you a nod, squinting your eyes at Hyunjin until he gives in with a huff. “Yunho and I are dating.”

Yunho finally reveals himself from the kitchen and you wrap your arms around his arm. He gives them a tight-lipped smile, not entirely sure how they’re going to take it.

Their eyes get really big, surely not expecting that kind of news. “Why’d you never tell us?” Chan pouts, looking between the two of you. Hyunjin stays silent.

“Because I wasn’t sure how you guys would take it. It’s only been a couple of weeks.” Chan nods his head in understanding before stating that it’s time for you guys to head home.

You give Yunho a hug, and he kisses you on the cheek before you follow Chan out the front door.

You don’t miss, however, the way Hyunjin stays behind for a moment.

“Don’t hurt my best friend.” He says with a stoic expression on his face. He gives Yunho another once over before leaving the house, closing the door behind him.

[beat-the-morning]

Depression interrupted || Hozier x reader

Kinktober - Day 6: Interruption

Prompt List

Tags: interruption, spit, mentions of depression, multiple orgasms, long introduction, reader has depression, nipple sucking, hickeys, references to possible suicide, fluff, hurt/comfort kinda because the hurt is like 2 paragraphs and the comfort is the rest of the fic

Summary: You’ve been on a depressive episode for the past couple weeks, and while Andrew had given you the space you requested, his anxiety gets the better of him when you stop answering your phone. So he goes to your apartment and finds a pleasant surprise.

Word count: 3.4k

A/N: this one’s a long one chat idk what to say i got really into it. There’s nothing explicit that isnt the smut itself so don’t worry about it💙

||💙FULL FIC UNDER CUT💙||

You had been in a slight depressive rut for these past few weeks, you didn’t know why exactly, but two and a half weeks ago you started feeling so incredibly sad that your brain decided it was best if you isolated yourself for a while, you worked from home anyway so it wasn’t like you’d be missing work if you decided to bedrot for a couple days until you felt better. But the “couple days” had now become seventeen days of not leaving the house and doing the bare minimum communication with your friends and family so they’d know you weren’t dead. This trend of lacklustre communication had also extended to your boyfriend, Andrew, who had been worried sick about you since you started answering to his messages less and less and not talking much during your calls.

He’d wanted to come see you sooner, but between making new songs and having meetings for his next album, he had been too busy to do anything that wasn’t working until a couple days ago. You had told him to not worry, that you just needed to be alone for a bit, and he decided to just let you be for a bit, checking in on you at least twice a day, usually more, and feeling his anxiety dissipate when you answered. His brain was divided, he did want you to have your own space and to let you figure this out on your own like you had before, but at the same time he was worried, your depressive episodes had never lasted more than four or five days since you started dating, and he’d always helped you through them, so why were you so distant now? And why for so long? Were you planning something? Andrew felt a knot in his stomach at the thought of you doing anything to hurt yourself, he grabbed his phone and messaged you, an admittedly cheesy message, but it was the only way he had of hiding how incredibly anxious he truly felt.

Andrew:

how are you feeling my love? can we call? id love to hear your voice i miss you so much baby <3] </blockquote>

You didn’t answer, didn’t even read his message, for the next hour Andrew sat on his couch waiting for you to message him or even to leave him on read so he’d know you’re still there. His anxiety created worse and worse scenarios in his head, he knew the most probable reason as to why you hadn’t answered yet was that you were asleep, but the little worm in his head told him a more sinister story, so he called you. You didn’t answer. He tried again. Voicemail. Third time. No answer. He knew that you would still get notifications from him and that your phone would still ring if it was a call from him even when you had it on Do Not Disturb, so why weren’t you answering? He called over and over again for the next hour, by his twenty-third call he was stressed out of his mind, he didn’t know what to do, but the call didn’t go to voicemail this time.

“Sorry, the number you’re trying to reach is off or without signal, please try again later.” Said the robotic voice over the phone. That settled it for Andrew, he took his keys and the copy he had of yours “for emergencies” and got in his car with the intention of driving it to your house and checking in on you in person.

While all of this had been happening, you had been sleeping on the couch while your phone was in your bedroom supposedly charging, or it would be if you had remembered to plug it in. You woke up a bit after your phone had, unbeknownst to you, fully ran out of battery. You staggered over to your bedroom once more, your feet dragging along the floor of your small one-bedroom apartment. You threw yourself on your bed, not even bothering to check your phone before curling in on yourself and trying to fall asleep again, tossing and turning in your bed for a couple minutes before you decided to just masturbate to help you fall asleep again. Laying on your back, your hand sauntered downwards on your body, slipping under your pants and underwear and in between your folds, you gasped softly at your own touch, having not done this since your depressive episode took hold. Slowly, you started flicking your clit, you couldn’t be bothered to look for your toy so your hands would have to do. Your free hand moved up under your shirt and to your chest, squeezing your breast though your bra and making you gasp again. Soft, quiet whimpers and moans escaped your lips as you slowly played with yourself.

Andrew was driving to your apartment at a record pace while still being careful enough that he wouldn’t break any laws, finishing what would normally be a 45 minute ride in 35. He parked the closest he could to your building and, as calmly as he could, speed-walked over to your building’s door, opened it, and went inside. He took the elevator to your floor, the fifth, and while it slowly moved, he repeated the same thought in his head over and over, that you were probably just asleep and that he was worrying for nothing, but he needed to make sure you were okay, he needed to see you, even if you hadn’t actually done anything to yourself he still wanted to hold you in his arms until you felt like yourself again. He’d missed you so much in just two weeks and the thought of not being beside you for another second hurt him. The elevator doors opened, he rushed to your door, unlocking it and stepping into your apartment.

It wasn’t as bad as he’d imagined it would be, but he hadn’t seen your room or the kitchen yet, so he knew there would still be some surprises for you two to clean later. He called your name, you didn’t answer, being too focused on your own moans in your bedroom to hear him speak or walk towards your bedroom door. Andrew leaned his ear against the door, hearing soft whimpers coming from inside, he felt his heart relax and break at the same time, his worst nightmare hadn’t come true, but you were, to his knowledge, crying in your bedroom by yourself. He slowly opened the door, his eyes looking for you in the dark space.

“Baby? I’m sorry I came here like this but you weren’t answering and I- oh.” He explained quickly as he slowly pushed the door open, his little apology coming to a halt as he saw you on the bed, your shirt and bra scrunched up over your chest revealing your breasts while your hand squeezed one of them. Your other hand having travelled to your cunt, idly playing with your clit. He felt his anxiety vanish completely, being replaced by insatiable love and lust for you.

You yelped at the sight of Andrew at your bedroom door, your hands stopping their movements and rushing to grab something to cover yourself with like he hadn’t seen you naked a million times over. “Andrew!” You screamed, “what are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering my messages or my calls and then your phone ran out of battery so I came to see you.” He explained, a small smirk slowly appearing on his face. “Glad to see you’re okay, though.”

“I- I had it charging, did I not plug it in correctly?” You mumbled as you reached over to your nightstand, finally noticing that the charger wasn’t plugged into the wall. You noticed Andrew’s weight shift the mattress, then his arms around your waist pulling you close to him.

“Why didn’t you want to see me, baby?” He asked softly, burying his face in your hair.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” you answered, your voice starting to shake as the tears formed in your eyes. “I’m a mess, I don’t want to burden you with my stupid brain.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he cooed lovingly, making you turn around so you were looking at him. “Don’t say that, you could never burden me, ever. I love you, more than anything, and I want to be here for you for anything that you need help with. Especially this, okay?”

You nodded, a few tears leaving your eyes and running down your face.

“Don’t cry, baby,” he kissed your cheeks a couple times each. “Do you want to talk about something else to get your mind off the sad thoughts? Or do you want to vent for a bit?”

“Something else,” you practically whispered, making Andrew smile.

“Okay, how about we talk about what you were doing just before I came into the room, hm?”

You felt your face heat up as you heard his question. “I- ehm. I was… yeah.” You managed to stutter out.

“Do you want help finishing with it?” He asked, his voice dropping an octave lower.

You nodded meekly, feeling your blood rush to your cunt. He chuckled.

“How do you want the help, my love?” He asked, leaning closer. “Do you want my mouth? My fingers? My cock?”

“Cock.” You answered, your face heating up even more.

“Very well, then.” Andrew smiled lovingly, kissing your lips deeply, his tongue moving against your lips, asking for entrance.

You opened your mouth, he deepened the kiss immediately, you kissed back with just as much passion as him, your fingers tangling in his curls. He pulled back from your lips and started kissing down your jaw and neck, relishing in the sound of your soft moans.

“You smell like coffee,” he pointed out between kisses.

“I spilled some on myself this morning, it was worse before I showered.” You mumbled in response.

“You showered?” He asked.

“Shut up.” You pouted.

“I wasn’t teasing, love. I’m proud of you.” He smiled softly, his eyes looking into yours with nothing but love and understanding. He kissed you again, more gentle this time, then resumed his worshipping of your neck, making his way down to your collarbone. His hands pulled at your shirt, his lips leaving your skin for just long enough that he could take it off you, followed by your bra, leaving you completely topless. He fondled your breasts, pinching your nipples until they were hard and taking one of them into his mouth, sucking and nibbling while his fingers played with your other one.

Gently, you laid down on the bed, Andrew followed behind, trapping you below him. His mouth moved to your other nipple, the coldness of the air hitting your wet peak making you gasp and goosebumps form in your skin. He chuckled, kissing your skin a few more times before pulling back and taking his own sweater and undershirt off. You smiled at the sight of him, he smiled back.

“There’s that smile I missed.” He said in a loving whisper, leaning closer to you when he noticed your hands reaching out to touch him. He hummed softly, closing his eyes for a second to fully focus on the feeling of your hands on him. You caressed his torso, stopping to grasp and squeeze his man boobs and his chubby stomach, making him laugh again. “Always with that.” He teased.

“Let me be, I like it.” You teased back, trying not to giggle.

“Not complaining,” he leaned down to place a peck on your lips with a smile. “Just making an observation.”

“Sure it was.” You giggled softly, Andrew smiled lovingly as he slowly kissed down your body.

“Have you been taking your birth control?” He asked once his hands started pulling down on your pants.

You shook your head, you hadn’t taken it since this episode started. “I don’t have any condoms either…” you added softly.

“Yeah you do,” Andrew argued with a crooked smile, standing up and taking a box of condoms from the drawer on your bedside table.

“I didn’t buy those,” you felt your face heating up again.

“I know, I did,” he chuckled as he started unbuckling his belt, “put them there just in case, too.” He threw the belt off somewhere in your room, taking off his jeans and boxers in one movement, his cock springing free from its confines, already hard and leaking. He took one of the condoms from the box, opening it and rolling it onto his cock.

He positioned himself between your legs, taking your pants and underwear off you as quickly as he could, running his fingers up and down your slit to see how wet you were.

“You’re dripping,” he growled, “all for me?” He added teasingly.

“Yeah,” you moaned softly.

“Did you even come before I interrupted you? Or since we last saw each other at all?” He asked, his voice deep and sultry. You shook your head in response, he chuckled and mockingly pouted, his hands moving your legs apart and positioning his length at your entrance. “Oh, my poor baby, almost three weeks without an orgasm, how did you even manage?”

“Shut up and fuck me already,” you whined needily, “please.”

“Demanding little brat,” he scolded playfully, thrusting himself complaining into your pussy in one single thrust and making you scream in pleasure. You tried to catch your breath, feeling your walls stretch around him in the most pleasurable pain to accommodate to his size. He stood still, buried to the hilt in your heat, drunk on the sound of your quiet gasps. “God, baby, you feel so fucking good, I almost wish I wasn’t wearing a condom right now.” He chuckled softly as he leaned in to kiss you.

You kissed back, moving your hips ever so slightly to silently tell him to start moving. He listened, thrusting languidly in and out of you. “Faster, please,” you mumbled between soft moans.

“How much faster, baby?” He asked, kissing your neck passionately. “Do you want me to ruin you completely? Because I know I want to.”

“Yes, please,” you begged in between breathy moans, “oh my God, pleasepleasepleaseplease.”

Andrew smiled, biting and sucking softly at your pulse point, leaving a mark for everyone to see. His pace quickened, becoming relentless and unstoppable as your nails left their mark on his back. Your bed shook with the intensity, your moaning resounding against the bedroom walls. He kissed your body in any place where he could reach, enjoying the sound of your cries of pleasure as he lost himself in you.

He grabbed your leg, moving it so your ankle was on his shoulder allowing his cock to hit on the right spot to drive you crazy. He looked at your tits, bouncing as he thrust into you, your face contorted in pleasure. His hand that wasn’t holding your leg moved to squeeze your breast, twisting and pulling your nipple to make you scream like he liked you to. He growled as you moaned louder and louder.

He kissed what he could reach of your leg, wanting desperately to always have his lips somewhere on you. His hand moved from your breast to your lips parting them with his fingers and pushing two of them into your mouth. You sucked out of instinct, eliciting a deep moan from Andrew. His fingers slowly thrusted in and out, muffling your moans, then he pulled them out, holding your mouth open by your chin, he leaned in, his face hovering over yours. He gathered saliva in his mouth, then slightly parted his own lips, letting his spit fall from his mouth to yours, shutting it closed right after. “Swallow it.” He ordered, leaving no room for argument, his relentless thrusts still shaking you and the bed. You obeyed, swallowing it without looking away from his eyes. He opened your mouth again, doing the same thing he just did and spitting into your mouth once more, this time you shut your mouth by yourself and swallowed without him having to tell you. He smiled, caressing your face lovingly. “Good girl, that’s it, you’re so good for me, baby. So fucking perfect.”

You felt the twist of climax forming in your lower tummy, your moans mixing with whimpers. Andrew slightly changed the posture just enough so his pelvis would hit against your clit with every thrust. You felt the coil quickly tightening more and more until it snapped without a warning. You clenched around Andrew’s cock in your orgasmic bliss, your juices spilling out of your cunt around him, making a mess on the bed. “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.” You begged even as your climax washed over you.

“You want another one, baby?” He teased lightly, feeling like he was on cloud nine just from hearing you beg for another orgasm.

“Yeah… please?” You begged desperately. “Please, Andy, I’ll be good, please!”

“You know I can’t say no to you, my perfect angel.”

His hand moved to your clit, flicking it rapidly while his thrusts became irregular and twitchy because of his own oncoming orgasm. You felt your second climax creep up on you again, your legs shaking from the overstimulation and your moans turning completely into whines and whimpers.

“Almost there, baby, come with me, that’s it.” He cooed gently, guiding you towards your next orgasm. “Such a pretty sight, my darling girl, so pretty for me.”

You came at the sound of his voice, clenching around him once more as he buried himself deep in you, stopping his movement and spilling his seed into the condom. You both breathed deeply, trying to catch your respective breaths.

Andrew pulled out of you, letting you lay in bed while he took off his condom and tied a knot on it before throwing it in the trash. He put his boxers back on, sitting back on the bed and caressing your body with love and care. “How are you feeling, love?” He asked softly.

“Good,” you smiled, “better than I have in the past couple weeks.”

“I’m glad,” he kissed your cheek, “go to the bathroom, baby, you know you have to.” He reminded you. You nodded, standing up from the bed and making your way out of the bedroom, stopping at the door when Andrew called your name. “Can you make me some coffee, please? Only if you feel like it, I can make it myself if not.” He asked.

“I’ll make you some, don’t worry about it.” You smiled, leaving the bedroom, closing the door, and walking into the only bathroom in your apartment. You cleaned yourself up, put on new clothes that had been on the folding pile since the week before last, and went into the kitchen to make coffee for Andrew. You heard some noises coming from your room, which you assumed was Andrew trying to find his clothes between all the mess that had accumulated in there for the past two and a half weeks. You finished the coffee after a while, having made it in an Italian coffee press since you knew Andrew didn’t have one but liked how coffee tasted when made in one, poured it in a cup and made your way back to your bedroom. You opened the door to find most of the mess gone, the windows opened and lighting up the room once more.

“What the..?” You mumbled softly, seeing Andrew throw the last of your clothes that had been scattered across the floor into your hamper.

“I know you don’t have the energy to clean right now,” he said softly, taking the coffee from your hands and taking a sip, “so I thought I’d help a bit.”

“You didn’t have to.” You said, feeling tears prickling up in your eyes.

“I wanted to, though,” he assured you, leaving the coffee on your dresser and holding your face in his hands and wiping away the tears that had fallen from your eyes. “I love you, I want to help you. So let me.”

You hugged him tightly, “thank you,” you sobbed lightly, overwhelmed by the amount of love you were getting from him. “I love you too, I love you so much.”

“Don’t cry, angel,” he kissed your head. “Let’s cuddle for a bit, then we can go out somewhere if you want or we can stay here and watch a movie or something, okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded into his chest, letting yourself be guided into your bed once more and curling up in his embrace as you laid together, his fingers running along your hair and arms.

[nana-au]

not sure if your taking requests but if you are may I request nanami x freader who fakes being sick just so kento takes time off work to take care of her and have him all to herself. he catches onto it and makes his day off worth while by having her 🍆 drunk the whole day 😉

Absolutely! 🫶🫶

I love how sweet Bf! Kento is hehee... I hope this lived up to your expectations. Thank you so much for sending in a request! I’m a little nervous because I’m not sure I can write him right but I hope this is on par enough :cry: 

Feeling Sick? I'll take care of you...

Kento Nanami ♡

MDNI

₊˚ପ⊹ Summary: Your doting boyfriend Kento doesn’t want to call your bluff about being sick. He’d rather tease the truth out of you!

₊˚ପ⊹ Warnings: p in v, unprotected sex, nipple play, orgasm denial, light spanking, cumming in your mouth, somnophilia, fingering, f! receiving oral, creampie, slight breeding kink (who is surprised i’m obsessed), not proofread </3

₊˚ପ⊹ wc: 3.2k

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

BF! Kento who never answers personal calls at work unless it is your name on his phone. “Hey sweet girl, everything okay?” he answers, keeping his volume low causing his deep voice to go even deeper. You could get dizzy off of his voice alone, it only solidified what needed to be done. If you didn’t miss him so much you would feel guilty for the lie you were about to spin – but you hadn’t seen your boyfriend all week because of the overtime he was putting in at his job. It was a desperate move – but if hamming up a cold was what it took; You would do anything to spend time with him. “Kento.. I don’t feel so good. Could you come home…” you made sure your throat was dry to sound raspy and even threw in a pathetic cough at the end. 

BF! Kento who asks his boss for the rest of the day off without a second thought. You were his everything and he knew just how big of a baby you were when it came to getting sick. He would do anything to make sure you were taken care of – both physically and mentally. 

BF! Kento who comes home to find you in your shared bed under a mountain of covers. He pulls them back and plants a kiss to your exposed forehead, rubbing your hair soothingly. “What doesn’t feel good?” he coos at you. It almost hurts how concerned he looks. “My throat hurts,” you tell him, making sure to frown and scrunch your brows. “I’m sorry, baby. Let’s go take your temperature,” he begins to pull back the covers. “I-I already took it. It’s 101,” you tell him – a little too quickly. You can see his face go blank as he thinks over what you said. He knew you well… too well. You would never take your own temperature – always too scared to know the answer. It wasn’t hard for you to admit you feel sick but having it confirmed was another thing entirely. It would sour your mood. You always let Nanami take care of you. Always. He wordlessly touches your forehead with the back of his hand and you swallow thickly trying to read his face. You hoped trying to overheat yourself with all the blankets you brought into bed would work in making your forehead hot. All it did now was make you sweat as your boyfriend studies your figure over. If he has anything to say he keeps it to himself.

BF! Kento who diligently cuts up the carrots for your soup. The anxiety you felt over how silent he became was bad enough you really did think you needed Nanami – you hadn’t felt this sick in a while! You kept sneaking peeks from the couch as you watched him prepare your lunch. His face was expressionless except for the focus he put into sauteeing the vegetables and measuring out the seasonings. While you swallowed down your nerves you had to appreciate how delicious your boyfriend looked. He had a kitchen towel slung over his shoulder that he used to wipe his hands on while he cooked – his button down shirt missing his work tie and exposing his upper chest. “Feeling okay, sweet girl?” he asks you when he catches you looking. You meekly nod, trying to put on a show. 

BF! Kento who rubs your feet as you eat the lunch he made you. It was torture being under his diligent touch. He watched you intently – preferring to study you in silence as you ate. His strong thumbs massaged deeply into the arch of your right foot, releasing all the tension. “I know how sore you feel when you get sick,” his eyes lock onto yours, “Do your legs or arms hurt more, baby?” You choke out something that you hoped sounded like legs and he gets to work. It’s nothing short of professional the way his hands turn you into putty. You always tease him about how he must have been a masseuse in his past life – but it didn’t feel right to crack a joke at this moment. His gaze on you was intense as he studied the pleasure written on your face. The bowl of soup was abandoned on the end table as you embraced his powerful fingers. He slowly worked his way up your lower extremities, taking his time with the tight muscles in your calves. You felt yourself melt into the couch under his touch, too relaxed to open your eyes. He rubs the pit of your knee in slow circles before reaching up to your thighs, digging his thumbs in deep. You’re blissed out as you feel him shift closer, moving up even further. He turns your right leg out, tickling the inside of your thigh with a feather light touch before applying more pressure. You open your eyes and he’s still watching your face. “Feel good?” he asks you. Nodding, you bite your lip at the dangerous tingle in your tummy at the feeling of him touching your sensitive inner thigh. If he noticed you biting your bottom lip – and Kento is observant he definitely noticed – he pretends not to and continues on to the other side. He is almost at the point where your thighs and torso meet and you have to use all your strength not to wriggle around at the intense pleasure building. Kento loved watching you pretend like he wasn’t turning you on and he loved pretending he wasn’t aware of how sensitive your thighs were. He rubbed his thumb dangerously close to your pussy lips covered by your pajama shorts multiple times, humming to himself as he worked your ‘sore’ body. Trying to keep still was becoming impossible, jolting every time his digits almost went right where you needed them. “You okay?” he asks you, his knuckle ‘accidentally’ rubbing up against your heat as he squeezed the fat of your inner thigh. When you don’t respond because the only thing that would surely come out is a moan, he chirps up, “I think it’s time to run your bath.”

BF! Kento who never planned to have you soak alone. You were leaned up against him in the tub, keeping still as he ran his hands over your thighs – making sure the soaking salts made your body nice and smooth. They came up to your stomach, rubbing your skin lightly and he kissed the side of your head. “I know just how to take care of you... Hmm?” he questioned and you nodded. “Thank you,” you told him and he smiled into your hair. His good little girl always used her manners. His big hands came up to your chest, massaging your breast unexpectedly. “Something wrong?” he asks when you jump from his touch. “N-no,” you spit out. 

BF! Kento who knows your body so well. He rubs one hardened bud between his thumb and forefinger, the other hand still squeezing the fat of your other breast. He’s unabashedly groaning into your ear, “So plump. Fits just right in my hand,” his lips are smiling against your ear lobe. You’re really wiggling under his touch but he still doesn’t comment on it. 

BF! Kento who isn’t even hiding the fact that his massage has turned into groping. He’s pinching your nipple and running his hot tongue against your ear. The wet sounds of his mouth are overwhelmingly loud and incredibly sexy. His other hand is pulling apart your thighs so he can slip his knee in between yours – keeping your legs wide open. “Maybe if I play with your clit you’ll feel a little better,” he ponders out loud and you’re agreeing with him. “I don’t know though… might be a little too intense for my sick girl,” you were going to explode if he did not touch you. “No I’ll be okay,” you promise and he clicks his tongue. “I don’t know… I’m not convinced it won’t be too much,” your knuckles must be white from how hard you’re gripping the tub. “I’ll be fine,” you plead and it comes out desperate and needy and definitely from a girl who is feeling perfectly fine. 

BF! Kento who makes you admit you lied about being sick just to spend time with him. He’s not mad. He could never be mad at you. Not when you’re making those pretty noises for him. Your clit is so sensitive against the rough pad of his finger. Your moans are just whines and he goes just the right speed for you. “You’re gonna have to make my time off worthwhile,” he sternly informs you. 

BF! Kento who makes you take him for the rest of the day. If he was going to tend so diligently to you for your little lie, it was only fair you treated him just as well. That’s why after you came on his fingers in the bath, you had to ride him with no assistance. It was easy at first – you eased yourself onto his long cock while he laid back with his arms crossed behind his head. Your hands leaned against his toned stomach for support as you guided yourself up and down his length. It wasn’t long before you found a good pace, dragging him against your walls and reaching the spot in you that made you dizzy. You were getting so wet watching him watch you take him all by yourself, fucking yourself with his dick. “Lean back baby, wanna see it better,” he mumbled. If you weren’t already blissed out it would be shocking how composed he was. You did as he asked, using your hands to prop yourself against his thighs. You pulled slowly out before sinking back down onto him, feeling his tip hit the spot inside you that could make you cry. You shook as you continued, trying hard not to cum from how good the angle felt. “Nanami… feels…t’good like this,” you mewled. You were pouting, begging for him to be satisfied with what he saw. “Just a few more times,” he promised, “Just love to watch my cock disappear in you.” 

BF! Kento who scolds you when you cum again – but he’s not actually mad. He could never be mad at you. Your cunt fluttered around his cock as you came, still fucking yourself onto him to make sure you held up your end of the bargain. “K-kentooo,” you were breathless and feeling weak from your second orgasm. “I need help,” you plead. It was hard to keep up the pace he liked. “You’re doing just fine, sweet girl,” he assured you – still not tired of watching your slick coat his cock with each drag of your hips. You continued to take him shakily, building up the same pleasure as fast as it went. His long cock hit the perfect spot in your gummy walls, tip kissing it each time you sunk down onto him. You were slowing down, allowing him to watch you take every inch of him before pulling back up for his length to reappear all shiny with your juices. You didn’t want to come again but the slow pace was driving Nanami mad with want. 

BF! Kento who decides it's time for a new position. He’s got you trapped underneath him while you’re laid down on your stomach – back arched so he reaches right where you need him to. If he didn’t remind you with every squeeze of your cunt that you were meant to make him cum – you would have completely lost yourself again. You already came twice and you were supposed to be making it up to him! You needed to be a good girl and wait your turn. “Hold it,” he told you, almost like a warning. It was evil the way he pounded into you. Him and you both knew he could go for hours like this, too satisfied with the way you were squeezing him to ever want it to end. The pillow your face was in was wet with tears. “Na-Na-Mi” you said each syllable as his hips slapped into you, his body trapping yours underneath it. Your cute little cunt squeezed again at a particularly hard thrust and he pulled out to deliver a firm smack to your cheek. You cried an apology into the pillow. “I cum next,” he tells you and you’re promising him you understand. He pulls your hips off the bed and aligns himself back up with your empty pussy. “You’re doing this for me. You’re taking me so well because you lied,” he reminds you before easing back in. “You don’t cum again until I cum, okay? No matter how good it feels.” You hiccup, telling him you’ll hold it. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to be commanding in the bedroom but he was always so gentle with you – treating you like a princess. It was a little shocking (and incredibly hot) how dominant he was. His pace quickly matched his previous one and once again you were hyper aware of how difficult it was becoming to ignore the building pleasure. “You were so naughty – calling me out of work,” he scolds you, relentlessly pounding your poor pussy. “Gotta let your tight pussy make it up to me,” you’re apologizing into the pillow, getting drowned out by the vulgar sounds coming from your wet cunt as your bodies meet. “She’s such a good little girl,” he coos, referring to the way your pussy is hugging his cock like a perfect little cock sleeve. You’re sweating from the effort it’s taking you to focus on not coming undone. Especially with the way he’s talking to you. 

BF! Kento who decides he wants needs to cum in your mouth. You’re grinding your teeth trying to keep it inside while he’s fucking deliciously into you – and thankfully he’s starting to lose control. In between his moans he’s chastising your pretty lips for lying with such ease. “Gonna have to teach that lying mouth a lesson,” he warns you, “Gonna cum in your mouth.” He grabs at your face, squeezing your cheeks and turning you towards him. He pumps in your cunt a few more times before pulling out and releasing messily into your mouth and face. You don’t fight it, swallowing any part that reaches your mouth. 

BF! Kento who kisses you all over, thanking you for being so good. He checks that you’re okay and to make sure you know he’s not actually upset with you. “You can always tell me when you need me, baby. I’m sorry for taking so much overtime. This weekend you have me all to yourself. I promise.” You don’t get to cum again but you’re okay with it. You were extremely worn out and after he cleaned you up you didn’t stand a chance – falling right to sleep.

BF! Kento who knows you deserve one more orgasm. You didn’t think he’d forget, did you? This time he was going to be nice and sweet. Take his time playing with your pretty little pussy. A couple hours had passed and you were still sound asleep, laying all pliant and ready for him. You were still naked from earlier so all he had to do was pull the covers back to expose your puffy lips. You looked so peaceful while you slept, your beautiful figure perfectly on display for him. He slid his finger down your slit – unsurprisingly you were not wet. He went to work just ghosting your clit, not wanting to wake you yet. He rubbed slow circles, studying your sleeping face. Your eyebrows scrunched and your nose twitched – but you were still asleep. He tested his tongue on you, taking one small kitten lick on your clit. When you didn’t wake he continued his ministrations, slowly licking your nub. He was swirling his tongue, growing less hesitant as time passed. He teased his finger at your entrance, tracing along the sides before sucking lightly on your clit. You stirred a little, but you weren’t quite awake yet. He pushed his forefinger in only to the first joint, continuing to suck and kiss your clit. You were whimpering, still asleep but aware of the pleasure. Your hips moved a little and your hand came up to rub your face. By the time you woke up his finger was curled deep inside you and lips attached to your nub, sucking feverously. Your hands grabbed ahold of his blonde locks, pushing his face down into you. “Kento… f-fuck,” you cried out. He was slurping up all the arousal leaking out of you, flicking his tongue on your bud. You definitely got the orgasm you deserved. 

BF! Kento who needs to feel your pussy one more time – and you’re too drunk on his cock to ever deny him. He’s fucking you slowly in missionary, his eyes full of love as he watches you drool at the feeling of his long cock drag against your walls. You look so good, completely entranced and sickly in love with the way his dick stretches you perfectly. You wouldn’t need any convincing in this moment to stay like this for life, trapped in by his strong body and taking his cock in any way he gives it to you. “You’re so beautiful,” he reaches up to squeeze the fat of your rosy cheek. He’s telling the truth when he swears he has never seen a woman so stunning. “Taking my cock like you were made for it,” you can only nod at his words. “You were made for me? Hmm?” he asks you and you’re nodding again. He knows you’re barely all there but that only makes him more turned on. “Made to take my cum.. Fuck,” his pace is still awfully slow but you’re just happy he’s inside of you. He’s feeling so in love with you – and stupidly pussy whipped. “Can’t imagine anyone else as perfect as you,” he’s reaching down to slowly toy with your clit and you’re leaking onto the sheets. “‘This what you needed, sweet girl?” You’re nodding. It’s all you ever need. “Gonna need my cum too?” Again you’re nodding and he’s picking up the pace little by little. You’re arching your back, pressing your chest against his and grabbing his shoulders. Trying anything to feel close to him while he rocks back and forth into you. Your whimpers and moans only make him go faster and he’s grunting in your ear at each thrust that reaches deep inside you. “Gotta make sure I get as deep as I can, baby,” he says, taking your legs and hooking them over his shoulders. Now you’re begging him to fuck you harder, the new angle reaching dangerously deep inside you. “Think this will work? This deep ‘nuff? ‘This gonna give me a baby, hmm?” He reaches down to your clit and you’re coming at his confession. You can’t think of a man more worthy of you carrying his children than Kento. 

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

Six. Six calls. And he hadn't picked up any of them.

The straw that breaks your back.

Nanami comes home Friday night, around 10pm, trudging up to the apartment like a soldier deep in the forest. His coat is over his arm, briefcase in one hand and a convenience store bag in the other. He bought drinks, your favorite kind. A peace offering.

He places the bag down to unlock the apartment. He grabs the bag once the door is open, kicks the door closed once he's inside. The apartment is pitch black, save for a night-light in the kitchen, leaving a golden glow over the counter. Nanami places his bag on the counter, briefcase on the floor, and his coat over a bar stool. He turns on the kitchen light and glances around. Maybe you went to bed already.

He empties the convenience store bag and puts the drinks in the fridge. Afterwards, he makes his way down the hall, hand loosening his tie.

"Darling?"

No answer, but maybe you were asleep.

The bedroom door was closed. He opened it and stepped inside. The curtains were open, moonlight streaming through, hitting the sheets. The empty sheets.

"Hmm..."

Nanami pulls out his phone, bringing up your contact, hitting the call button. It rings once, then goes to your voicemail. He furrows his brow, hanging up and trying again. Same result.

He goes to your messages, sends you a text asking where you are, then goes back to the kitchen.

He downs a glass of scotch as he waits, glancing at his phone every five minutes. The TV is on some rerun of a cooking show, volume low. He needed just enough noise to distract him from the anxiety of you not being there.

An hour had gone by, and still nothing. Should he call the police? Your friend? Yeah, maybe your friend might know where you are. Maybe you went over for drinks and were too tired to come home, your phone dead. He should call her.

"The fuck do you want, Nanami?"

"Well, it's great to hear from you too."

"What do you want?"

"Have you heard from Y/N? I tried contacting her and she hasn't replied. I'm worried."

"Oh, so now you're worried-"

"Excuse me?"

"So Y/N calls you several times because you don't come home for days, and you don't answer once, but when you're worried about her, suddenly-"

"What are you going on about?"

She sighs loudly, mumbling to someone before he hears a shuffling on the other side of the phone.

"It's over, Ken. Don't contact me anymore."

The line goes dead. He sits there for a moment, blinking, before taking his phone away from his ear and looking at it. He presses the call button again, but it goes straight to voicemail. He tries your number again, and nothing.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

He bolts to the bedroom, turning on the light and going to the closet. Your clothes are gone. He tries the dresser. Nothing. He goes to the bathroom. Your shampoo, your toothbrush, it was all gone.

No. No. No no no no no.

Were you gone? Gone for good? What happened? What had he done to make you leave? Yes, he had been busy with work, gone overnight for several days, and yes, he had missed your calls, but he was busy, it was justified. He wouldn't have done it on purpose if he didn't have a good reason to.

He checked for your other belongings, just to be sure. Your books, your hobbies, all your personal items were gone. His apartment looked the way it did before the two of you met.

God, please, no. Don't do this to me. If you want to end it, I understand, but please, don't leave me like this.

His stomach hurt. Was he going to throw up? He shouldn't have drank before he knew what was going on.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. But nothing came. Just this heaving in his chest that left him feeling sick.

He found the couch again, plopping down. He stared blankly ahead, processing the last few weeks. Had there been signs? Did he not take notice of how you were truly feeling? This couldn't have happened overnight. Was this really all because of his work?

He hunched over, head finding his hands.

It's over.

[softshuji]

Track 3 ft izana Kurokawa (part of the campfire stories collection)

Izana is counting your breaths.

In. Out. In. Out.

You're turned away from him, holding the duvet up to your cheek and wrapped around your fist like you're going to punch through a window. And he's watching your chest rise and fall, fast and shallow breaths because you've not been asleep for long and he knows you're always quiet when you do. Often, when he's late, he finds you under the covers and his heart will stop, or miss a beat because your chest hardly seems to move and your breath is near silent and then you'll stir or twitch as you're prone to do and he sighs in relief.

But this time, he's watching you, with his chest to your back and winding a finger around your hair, playing with the end as he listens hypnotically to the rhythmic undulation of your breathing. He's tracing the marks on your back, small birthmarks and old scars with a long finger till he reaches your tailbone and then pulls away to grab his phone from the nightstand.

When he sits up, you twitch again and he holds his breath as he watches you turn onto your stomach, the crown of your head now glossy with the light that spills in through the gap in the curtain.

Izana calls his last contact, one hand still resting on your back, his voice low and apprehensive.

'Hey,' Kakucho whispers, his own voice gravelly and rough and undulated with dryness. 'What's up? It's late.'

Izana clears his throat and Casts a glance to the slat in the curtain where an orange flare of light comes and goes as a car rolls past.

'Were you sleeping?' izana asks, keeping his voice low and quiet, a bare whisper above the faint hum of the heating chugging through the pipes.

'Yeah, sorta, but it's fine. What's wrong?'

'I....I need to ask you something.'

Kakucho sits up on his own side, and turns to flick on the bedside lamp, the bed cold and empty save for the duvet and a haphazardly thrown cushions on the bare bedspread.

Izana falters here. Because it's never been easy. And it's not easy now. When you're next to him, and so real under his hands, and kakucho is both his closest confidante, and he's surrounded by the two he .... Cares about.

'Yeah?'

Izana lapses into silence, weighs it on his tongue, his teeth coated in anxiety, a thick film that tastes of fear and salt.

'I....' He starts, his hand moving from your back to the bedspread, twisted in his hands as he pulls at the loose threads. 'I mean...she....there's something wrong.'

Kakucho's nerves flare to attention, and he's half a mind to grab his jacket and come straight over, ever the hero, ever the sacrificial lamb for his king. 'What? Is she sick? Shall I call a doct-'

'no no, not like that,' izana says, an ear trained on you and your soft and even breaths. 'She's uhm- she's- I think she's upset.'

'Huh? Did you have a fight?'

'No, no we didn't. She's just...I think there's something else.' and then, a whisper like a caress, said under his breath, like a secret he's afraid to divulge. 'I don't know what to do.'

Kakucho releases the tight breath in his chest and leans back against the headboard, fishing for a cigarette in the bedside drawer. 'Oh I see. Tell me what it is, I'll see if I can help.'

Izana frowns, more in confusion at himself than anything else, in difficulty at it all. 'She's....she seems sad a lot, and quiet recently. I tried to ask her what was wrong, and I tried to spend time with her, but it doesn't seem to work.'

'Ah. You're worried?'

'A bit.' After a pause. 'A lot really.'

'You think it's you don't you? That it's something to do with you?'

'I didn't....I didn't say that.'

'But you were thinking it. You were thinking about why she hasn't told you, or whether she doesn't trust you.'

Izana shifts uncomfortably and makes a sound from the back of his throat.

'It's fine you know. I've known you both long enough. I think I understand.'

'You understand?' and izana almost ends the call then, when you twitch and your legs brush his under the duvet, your soft thighs now rubbing against his for warmth. He strokes your neck absently, soft and gentle, the way you'd touch a butterfly without hurting the wings, marvelling at the softness of it under your touch. Sometimes he thinks of you like that. A thing whose wings he might break on accident, some slip of his hand that'll hurt you even if he doesn't intend you, because that's just what he is. A monster through and through. And you are so delicate, so good and wholesome and kind and so easily breakable that it's almost bound to happen.

'I do. I don't think you need to do anything though.'

'Huh? What do you mean?'

Kakucho taps the cigarette against his lips and takes a long drag, exhaling into the air where the whir of air con blows the smoke through the vents. 'I mean, it's not you. I think you just need to give it time, let her tell you when she's ready.'

'But she's upset-'

'I know. But you have to trust her. She probably doesn't want to bother you.'

'But it's not bothering me,' izana says, adamant, a twitch of defiance in his voice- to which kakucho can only chuckle in his chest.

'I know, but I think she assumes it does. So maybe remind her, tomorrow- you know, that you'll be there if she needs to talk.'

Izana cramps here. His chest constricting at the thought- at the show of vulnerability that that might entail because he's never been very good at the whole receiving and giving affection thing. If you asked, and even if you didn't, he'd carve out the world for you, and more. But you never seem to ask for anything and he often wishes you would. Be a little demanding, a little less compliant because it aches inside when he thinks of you being unhappy and swallowing it down for his sake. Like you're afraid to show anything to him that you think he doesn't want to see, like you can make that kind of decision for him.

'izana?'

Izana bites his lip, and his eyes fall on the way the duvet curls around your body, how soft and inviting it looks even now, moonlight drawing a finger across your skin, the curve of your arm and shoulder half hidden under the covers.

'I'm here. Just thinking.' And he clears his throat, again. A little lighter, a little more like he can sleep.

'you good?'

He has what he needs now, and it makes more sense than it did before. 'Yeah.' and then. 'Get some sleep kakucho.'

And kakucho takes that as his cue, understand the subliminal message underneath because izana is not half as complicated as he believes himself to be and get some sleep means thank you, means he appreciates it even if he refuses to mention it.

'Yeah. You too. I'll see you tomorrow.' Kakucho puts the phone down and the air con whirs, as it does.

Izana traces a finger along the curve of your ribs, counts them individually, along with your breath, before he slides into bed next to you, arms held tight and close around you with his lips finding the dip in your neck.

And counts your breath as he falls asleep.

Reblogs appreciated

[issa-pheonyx]

Yandere!James Sunderland X GN!Reader [SH]🔪

𝗜'𝗺 𝘁𝗼𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗮𝗴𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗞𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗦𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗛𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝟮 𝗥𝗲𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗱𝗼 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗞𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗲𝘆𝗲 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗳𝘂𝗰𝗸𝗲𝗿. 𝗔𝗻𝘆𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀, 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝗲𝗽𝘆, 𝗹𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗿, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗺𝗮𝗻𝘄𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝗝𝗮𝗺𝗲𝘀 >:𝟯

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

-To make it easier you were one of Mary's close friends. You supported James when he was in aid and trying his best to make his wife happy until her last breathe. Your interactions with James was...not awkward it mainly, because of Mary. Though you can sense a tension coming off from him like avoiding eye contact from you, keeping his distance away from you when you are both alone and Mary was off doing something, etc. That kind of thing

-You assume he was just really shy around people Mary knows closely. So, you just keep conversations short and simple with him to not overwhelm him, but it seemed to work as he slowly builds up more communication between the two of you. However, Mary saw something else...she saw him to be more bright and happy when you came around to help her so that James can catch a break. That is when she became more snappy with James. He predicted that her snappiness was her sickness getting into her head, feeling useless and in chronic pain

-All of a sudden you received a phone call from James claiming he will be going to Silent Hill to visit for Mary's sanity. Stating she misses the town and has been calling to her for the weekend. You thought it was weird and decided to call right away. The phone picks up and it was Mary, questioning if it was true or not, and she said yes, enthusiastically. Some part of you still feel like something is going to happen, but you let it go and told her to stay safe

-The weekend has passed and they have not returned when you came over to talk about what went down in Silent Hill. Your heart rates increases with such anxiety that you decided to go to Silent Hill yourself to find James and Mary. When you did though it was rather eerie and ominous from the foggy town. You spotted James' car, but not no one inside. Investigating his car you saw nothing out of suspicion, so you're plan was to find James and Mary yourself

-Never did you think you would be dealing with monsters. There was these nurses and Pyramid Head figures every once in a while, but you managed to be sneaky and have them avoid you by throwing items to distract them. Slowly, you were getting clues from James and Mary's whereabouts. Yet, it seemed like it was intentional from finding a key to a hotel room #312. You heard crying on the other end and it sounded like James, so you quickly insert the key and turn the knob to get inside,"James!?" But, it was coming from the TV of James crying next to the bed where Mary was laying down, lifelessly, with a pillow on her face. That's when you realized James smothered her and did not return home due to his responsibility murdering his wife

-After that you were cautious with James if you find him or he finds you first. However, it seems like you end up running into each other. "James!?" His eyes were glum and dark, but changed to this twinge of hope and creepily happy to see you. He immediately holds you into a tight embrace that you couldn't escape. "You were looking for me. Thank god." His face was in the crook of your neck as his hot breathe warmed up your flesh

-You were nervous to ask him what happened with Mary. Thinking it could be just the haunted-weird town playing tricks on you. James was really REALLY protective and clingy with you. Following you like a damn lost puppy and would tell you to stand behind him when there are monsters, so he can beat/shoot them off. He would always ask you: "Did I do good?" "You think they're dead? I did it, right?" "You okay? I saw you were a little nervous."

-BEGS for praises (if the previous bullet doesn't say enough) like the way he questions you or gives you a look like ":D" just so you can tell him he did amazing and thanking him for saving your life. But, you attempt to imply anything in relations with Mary like saying: "You know I haven't found Mary yet...I hope she is okay." "I hope Mary finds us like we found each other." James would go back to his mopey-gloomy expression as he coldly replies to: "Yeah.." "She's fine on her own." "I'm sure she left the town before us."

-Eventually, you confronted James what you saw at the hotel room, because it has been eating you up worse and worse. James eyes widen, his mouth became dry, and throat hoarse as he tried to bring out words. Shit, just word vomit. "I-I...erm I didn't-" You showed him the room key #312 and his shoulders went slump as he confesses killing Mary. You were mad, disgusted, shocked, and sad-emotional turmoil all over. Yet, as much as you despised it the only way to get out of here is by sticking to his side since he knew his way around before. Plus, you don't want to end up being killed by him if he tried anything

-You can secretly plot your escape by tricking him that you won't be leaving him, but in the end of it all with James killing off Maria (that is for another time) he is heavily delusional and believes that you are leaving with him together from the town. Instead he wants to stay in Silent Hill with you. He doesn't mind the monsters he can kill them off. He can figure things out to maintain survival and necessities for you both (mainly you though). This is now your nightmare. You have to face your fears...which is escaping from James. Not from the town itself...

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴! 𝗜 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝘁. 𝗠𝘆 𝘂𝗽𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴. 𝗦𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹~🖤🫣

[slutforleeminho]

HI HI HI 😋

your work is so amazing, you're such a good writer! i have no idea if your taking requests, but if you could maybe find time... could you write part two of 'the other woman' please?

it was so well written, and i love some good angst with an even better plot 🫶🏽

also another 'no idea' but if you do anons... could i be 🍧 anon?

tyyy and ofc you can be 🍧 anon

The Other Woman • Hwang Hyunjin

ft. lee felix

THIS IS A PART TWO TO THIS - CANT BE READ AS A STAND ALONE

"Nice to meet you, Felix."

~

"Felix stop it!" Your chest was hurting from the force of your laughing. His fingers dug into your sides, causing your body to automatically jolt from the ticklish feeling. "Seriously lix I'm actually going to pee myself if you don't stop." you barely got the words out through your continuous giggling. only then did he cease his antics and let you breath.

"Eww don't do that. I don't want to have to wash the sheets again." he shifted his body until he was facing you, lying on his side with his arm supporting his head. "That would be the third time this week."

You could hear the smugness in his voice without even looking at him, but when you did, what did you see? a big toothy grin plasterd across his beautiful face. "Shut up." you playfully nudged his shoulder. But the drama queen in him came out as he gripped the place that you hit him with both of his hands in pain, as if you had just shot him.

"Ah, what the hell. are you trying to chop my arm off?"

"Oh, shut up you big baby." you wrapped your arms around his torso and pulled him closer until his nose was basically touching yours. His big brown eyes were staring deep into your soul, expectantly.

"Only if you kiss it better." He whispered against your lips, the warmth of his breath against your skin made you shiver. he had a way of making you feel so safe and protected from the world, like nothing could touch you as long as you had him. He leaned even closer in attempt to connect his lips with yours, but the harsh sound of your phone ringing startled you both out of the little bubble you created. You both huffed a breath of annoyance in unison. "It's him again, isn't it?" felix rolled over on his back. it was more of a statement than it was a question.

You grabbed your phone off of the nightstand just to see that there was no caller id so yes it indeed was him.

After Hyunjin walked out on you, you cried and cried and then cried some more, then after that you blocked his number, along with all his other social media accounts. You thought that would be the end.

You were wrong.

The phone calls from unknown numbers started a couple of days after you met Felix. Only once every few days, you never answered of course, you knew as soon as you heard his voice, you'd be right back in the place you're trying so hard to crawl out of. Then you started getting comments on all of your old Instagram posts:

"I miss you."

"Pick up the phone."

"Baby, please I love you."

"I can't stop thinking about you."

Seeing that made you both angry and hurt. How could he even say that? You gave that man everything you had while he was only giving you a few days a week. You made sure not to dwell on it for too long, deleting the comments and blocking those accounts.

Then the calls came more frequently, mostly late at night when he was probably alone and horny.

Once you and Felix made your relationship official, you came clean about everything. The affair, the phone calls, the comments, you wanted no secrets between you two, nothing to get in the middle of something that has the potential to grow and become something beautiful. He was shocked but he tried his best to understand and made sure to tell you how proud he was of you for being strong enough to be the one to end things.

"I'm going to kill that guy if I ever see him." Felix said before standing up from the bed.

"Where are you going?" You rushed to say, the worry in your voice was too thick to hide. The anxiety that he'd get sick of you constantly being interrupted by your ex haunted you, and he knew it.

He smiled and walked over to your side of the bed. "To make us some breakfast, I know how hungry you are in the mornings." he leaned down and pressed a kiss on the tip of your nose. "Don't worry, okay? Nothing can stop me from loving you."

~

The past six months have felt like a vivid dream, you started working for a very famous clothing designer - as an assistant but it was something - and you loved every second of it, you had basically ripped your apartment apart and replaced everything in it and made it your dream home. But the best part was the person who was by your side the entire time, Lee Felix. Of course, you started out as friends but you both knew it wouldn't stay that way for long.

You had a perfect schedule: date nights on Monday, sleepover at his place on Wednesdays, and movie night at your place on Saturdays, where he'd spend the night and leave Sunday morning after brunch. You both agreed not to spend every day together because you're still healing from your past relationships and Felix has never been in a serious relationship. But of course, if one or the other got a text saying they missed the other, it only took about ten minutes before there was a knock at their door.

But today is Saturday and you haven't seen him since Tuesday morning since he had to work late on Wednesday. To say you were excited was an understatement, you were practically pacing around the kitchen waiting for him to get here, until he finally appeared on the other side of the island. "That spare key you gave me comes in handy."

"Felix!" you squealed and quickly made your way around the bar and wrapped your arms around his neck. "You took way too long to get here."

"It's ten a.m., did you want me here before daylight?" he was teasing you, but his hands caressed down your back to pull you closer against him. He missed you too.

"I expected nothing less."

~

"Why did you pick a sad movie?" you sobbed behind your hands.

"Baby, it wasn't that sad." he tried to argue but you saw him wipe away that stray tear right before the movie ended. He thought he was sneaky.

"Tell that to the girl whose best friend just died." you gestured to the tv. Another cry coming from your lips.

"Aww baby stop before you make me cry." he grabbed your shoulders and pulled you down on his chest, and combing his fingers through your hair. "Hey," he tilted your head up until you were nose to nose with him, the tears immediately stopped. "it's okay, honey it's all fake."

ring. ring. ring.

"Ughh," you pushed yourself up and grabbed your phone. "It's like he fucking knows!" you put it on Do Not Disturb and shut it off completely. You were pissed now. "I don't know what to do Felix." You plopped back on the couch and he pulled you back to him once again.

"it's okay, love. We'll figure something out, I promise." there wasn't a trace of hurt or annoyance in his eyes, just genuine concern for you. This time when you leaned forward your lips met his and it felt like ages since you were this close to him. He pulled you closer to deepen the kiss, as one hand moved to cup the side of your face.

"Y/N?"

At first you thought you were hallucinating from all the stress, until Felix jerked away from you and stood, dragging you up with him and stepping in front of you to shield you from the intruder.

"Who the hell are you and how did you get in here?" Felix yelled.

Hyunjin looked between you and Felix, confusion all over his face. "Y/N, baby who is this?"

Oh, hell no. You grabbed Felixs hand and squeezed it reassuringly before stepping out from behind him. He was hesitant on letting you any closer to this random man until you said: "He's my boyfriend, Hyunjin." Oh.... Its Hyunjin. Your ex boyfriend.

"How did you get in here?"

He held up the spare key you had forgotten you'd given him while ya’ll were together. You snatched it from his hand before he could pull away. "Why the fuck are you in my apartment?"

"I-" his eyes started to water. "You're with someone else?"

You turned to look at Felix, his jaw was clenched as he watched Hyunjins very move. "Yes. Now leave."

"But I- I thought you loved me," his voice broke. "And I still love you. Y/N, I left her. I left her so we could be together." He said that with a smile as if that would change your mind. No, it made you want to vomit.

"Good, she deserves better. And so do I."

He nodded his head, processing what you just said. You could physically see his hurt turning into anger. "So," he looked straight into your eyes. "Did you tell your little boy toy over there what we did on that couch that you were kissing him on? Hmm? How much you loved it when I leaned you over it and I fucked you till you were begging for m-" He was cut off by you harshly slapping him across the face, the force making him stumble back a bit. In the corner of your eye you saw Felix launch forward just in case hyunjin decided to replicate your violent energy.

"How dare you come into my home and degrade me like this, let alone Infront of someone I care about! I did love you, Hyunjin, but not anymore. And you never loved me. You may know my favorite designer brand or what I like in bed but that's all you know. You don't know what my favorite color is or my dream job, so you definitely don't know who I want. So let me tell you. It's. Not. You. And it never will be. It'll always be me. I am who I want to be happy, and nobody else can make that happen." you stopped to take a deep breath to calm down and hyunjin took that as his que to speak.

"I should've never left her for you, all you are is a cheap slut." This time the smack you heard didn't come from you. It was Felix lunging forward and punching him in the face. A loud crack came from the impact, and you couldn't tell if it was Hyunjins nose or Felix's hand. But judging from the blood gushing from Hyunjins nose, it was definitely broken. Hyunjin stumbled to the floor while holding a hand over his bleeding nose.

"Felix stop!" you grabbed him by the arm and pulled him off of hyunjin. "You," you pointed at hyunjin and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and yanked him up and towards the door. "Out!" Opening it you pushed him out, slamming it in his face, but not before getting in the last word. "Nice going hyunjin, you just earned yourself a restraining order."

Once the door was closed the reality I what just happened came crashing down on you like a bag of bricks. you pressed your back against the door and slid down it and let all the emotions show themselves. “Felix, i’m so sorry.” you sobbed into you hand. you couldn’t even imagine how he felt right now, but still he came to you and took you in his arms as you cried.

“it’s okay, love, you did the right thing. Don’t worry, ok? i’m here, i’ve got you.”

I feel like every time i post I’m apologizing for not being active, but i had a good reason this time😭



@caitlyn98s @bangchansbae @fawnpeaks @yumiblogs @katsukiswife @seung-mine @sungprotector @soephiphanymain @minnieslover@kjr-army @gingerblade @ebbaskz @nqvgue @sl6gszn @erisuna @jenniferzipsblog @broken-glowsticks @superiorbrownskinn @skzstaykatsy @laexoticlunatic @vrslvts1

not all of y’all are on my taglist but were some of the people asking for a part two so i hope you don’t mind, just wanted to make sure you saw it☺️

[mystsee]

DRIFTED ✦ SIMON GHOST RILEY

PART 1 ✦ NEXT

✦ about: you and simon were lovers, but simon´s duty drifted apart your relationship. 2 years later simon comes back after a long mission and reunites with his friends again, what he didn´t expect was seeing you again.

✦ content: afab reader, anxiety, blood mentions, graphic descriptions of violence, stalker ex, protective simon, pining, reunited love, civilian life, no mask, panick attack, eventual smut, psycho, no mentions of y/n

✦ a.n: an idea of the outfit i had in mind :]

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

STANDING before your mirror, cold winter air strokes your hair, you keep trying your best to conceal your puffy eyes with all the possible makeup you have. you couldn’t keep your thoughts in control, spiraling to the worst case scenario.

ever since you broke up with the crazy man, paranoia is all over you, triple checking your locks, telling your best friend where you’re going, until today.

-

lily bursts inside your flat “what the actual fuck is wrong with him?” you thought the same, not believing what you heard on the call “i don’t know if i should call the police, will they believe me? i have no actual proof of him calling me, the number was blocked” you said frowning, surprised how the situation escalated so quickly.

when you broke up with him it was crazy to say the least, he was becoming this crazy jealous boyfriend every time you travelled because of work. working for the government as a translator caused you to travel a lot. but every time you came back, he started making arguments out of nowhere, making you confused as into why he was so mad everytime you came back, slowly realizing he didn’t trust you.

he was following you everywhere on his phone, always texting you, practically exploding with anger if you didn’t answer in less than 5 minutes. god forbid if you were at a meeting with your phone on silence, hell would come when you came back to your flat.

when the breakup came, he started throwing all these false accusations of you, cheater, you don’t care about me, blah blah blah and threats, it took you a call to the police to get the bastard out of your flat. but that didn’t calm your nerves. his words on the phone call today resonating on your head:

“don’t think i forgot about you, ill get you back again” his sick voice making you feel ill, but you won’t let a man control you.

-

you agreed coming to the pub because if he dares to come close to you and do something, you would be in public, and there would be proof. what you never expected was seeing him again.

as soon as you walked inside, the cozy ambient put you at ease, it was a small pub, lightly decorated of christmas. it was saturday, so of course it would be full today. you saw lily approaching you, with a big mischevious smile on his face, finding it odd

"hey you!" you said to lily hugging her close "you won’t believe it! chris brought someone new today! said he’s an old friend from the military” said lily raising her eyebrows at you, making you laugh, you weren’t really interested to seeing someone new right now.

simon saw the interaction at far, wondering who was behind lily, she was covering her entire frame “got eyes on someone?” chris asked suddenly “what? no, just curious who’s behind her” the moment he said that, lily moved, making simon’s heart freeze.

he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. you. all dolled up, beautiful as ever, a long black coat not hiding your curves under the skin tight black dress at all, the all black outfit complementing your absolutely beautiful face, those black tights making your legs look lovely in those high knee boots, to say he was in a trance was the least, he didn’t even realize you were in front on him, a very deep blush covering your cheeks, your scarf not helping you at all.

“simon?” he missed your voice, your soft angelic voice that brought him comfort after the hell he endured in a long mission, your voice that assured him everyday that he was loved.

you heard him say your name, making your heart stop for a second, it’s been a while 2 years since you heard his deep voice. you just kept staring at him, a bit wide eyed.

he felt his voice thick with emotion, aching to touch you again and feel your soft hands on him “so you are the old friend huh” you said after simon didn’t moved at all he was shocked

what a small world you thought “you know him?” asked lily to you in a small voice “uhm, yeah! long time ago though”

-

you just parted ways and never contacted each other again you were scared you would bother him if you called to see how he was simon went to a long mission, kept small contact with you, but he could see the distance that was growing between you both. he understood the breakup, quite healthy actually, but that didn’t mean you didn’t love each other anymore, it was hard dealing with the distance.

2 years passed, simon thinking of you practically 24/7, wondering where you were, thinking if he should call you to see how you were, and 2 years of you trying to move on, never forgetting him, matter of fact, you kept thinking of the breakup over and over again, thinking maybe you made a wrong choice.

after a while you thought maybe dating again would help, but you accidentally picked a very wrong guy a psycho to catch feelings for.

-

you could feel his stare on you as you moved to sit next to him, the only seat left, even though the table was big, simon chose to sit on the side where he had no chairs beside him on both sides, so he could spread comfortably.

but now he had your knees on his left side, you bumped into them a little, muttering a small sorry, simon feeling warm inside after finally feeling you again

he was checking you out, similar to what you were doing, you noticed his arms got bigger, bulging from his hoodie, making your mind go to another complete direction, you hoped your scarf covered your cheeks.

as the night passed, simon saw the way you slowly passed from tipsy, to funny drunk, your scarf long forgotten, making simon eyes wander to your chest, he remembered that of you, everytime you drank, you literally became the embodiment of a comedian.

right now you were way too deep in a debate about cats, the wine making your head go back to what you usually debate when your drunk, cats plotting against humanity.

“i swear everytime those fur balls purr they get inside our minds” you slurred, confidently laying back on the chair nodding your head, “as soon as suzy makes that cute as hell sound, i’m on my knees for her, which is weird you guys! they are contrlling us!" grabbing your glass of vodka again, until you felt a hand on top of you

"okay okay! you know what?" chris's laugh was way too contagious, making you laugh with him as well "i think its enough for today, why don't we move this to your flat?"

after many failed attempts of trying to open your door, and laughing manically, you finally made it, inviting all in, you knew this was a good idea, chris and lily helped you plan all this, the closer they are with you, the less he could come close to you.

as simon passed in front of you, you made eye contact with him, all the memories came flooding back to you. you felt simon touch briefly your hand, making you feel warm inside.

everyone accommodated to your 2 big sofas in your living room, you had your small desk behind the sofas where you worked, and the kitchen on the right side, it was an open kitchen.

you, not wanting the party over, went directly to the kitchen to grab some wine “anyone wants a glass of wine?” they all said yes. the only ones missing were 2 of chris’ friends, they went to buy some beer.

after serving the glasses of wine, you remembered a talk you had with simon a while ago

-

“doll, you really need to make this posters, i bet people would buy them, they are way too original” said simon looking to you, locking his arms around you, you were on his lap finishing a design, and simon kept distracting you with his small kisses here and there, on your neck mostly

“maybe in the future i will print them” you said with a small smile, nervous to show your works.

-

you nudged simon on his arms with a small smile and moved your head to your left side, where your room was “i want to show you something” simon was up in an instant.

as you opened the door to your room, you heard simon inhale deeply behind you, the alcohol making you forget what you two did inside this room simon literally rearranging your guts every night, you grabbed his big hand and moved him to sit on the bed, simon was very confused, because why on earth is he in your room.

you went behind your bookcase, and grabbed a big poster on your hand “look, i finally did it” simon was at loss of words, it was a design you both made one night, it had a special meaning for you both.

you went to sit next to him “i print it to remember us” you said slurring a little, the alcohol was sure as hell making you very open to him. as you slowly put your head on his shoulder, simon freezed to the spot.

“i remember when we made it” his gruff voice said, giving you shivers down your spine, you were so close to him, feeling his heartbeat on you, wondering if he felt how fast was yours beating.

you moved your head up to look at him, and he could feel your eyes on him, not daring to move his eyes because he would definitely kiss you right there. you just looked so beautiful tonight. “i still do them on my free time, but this is the one i love the most”

your hand moved to his thigh unconsciously, you used to put your hand on his thigh anytime, you liked it. but you forgot you are in the present right now, and simon with his thigh tense “oh! sorry sorry! i think i drank a bit too much” you said laughing, standing up with the poster on his hand. “i-i need to go to the bath-bathroom, wanna join?” you said laughing and slurring way too much. when you moved to the door, your eyes widened, slapping your hand on your forehead “wait n-no, that’s when i shower, hah, for-forget my invitashion” you said nervously speed walking to your bathroom, leaving simon alone in your room, he laughed, he really missed you.

you grabbed your glass of wine after going to the bathroom, sitting next to simon on the sofa, he was really close to you, you could move just an inch and be on his lap, you really miss sitting there, your favorite spot, but your mind still has a bit of self control, so you just kept nudging him with your knee laughing, making simon feel warm inside for the 500th time tonight.

chris was telling a joke when you heard the doorbell ring, remembering the friends of chris went to buy beer, so, you stood up to go to the door alone, big mistake, you opened the door with a big smile on your face, until you saw him, on your door, with a deathly smile to you. any trace of alcohol in your body vanished, as well as your smile. you felt your heart stop for a second, fear coming all the way up to your throat.

your door had a small hallway, so your friends couldn’t see who was on your door, you just closed the door with any force you could “go away!” you muttered with a small voice, anxiety was making you not breathe well constricting your voice. simon heard that, making his breath stop for a moment.

you tried closing the door on him but he opened with a lot of force, almost breaking it. he started walking towards you.

“go away!” you screamed, trying to push him out of your apartment, but he had way too much strength. simon heard the scream and immediately stood up. in less than a second he saw your small frame pushed to the plant behind you making you hit your head. he saw this psycho push you even harder to the wall, making you whimper, and he went mad.

chris got there faster than simon, the sofa he was in was closer to the hallway, and tried pushing him out of you, but the psycho had more force than him, he just pushed him away to the floor.

you were on the floor, your nose bleeding, making you worried, even though your eyes were spiraling all over the room. you had your back to him making it hard to see his next move, a big punch on your left hip, making you scream.

the bastard stomped on your hip, a small crack was heard. your screams made simon see red. the man almost got on top on you, until simon grabbed him with all his force and moved him away from you, chris grabbed him and punched him in the face repeatedly, dragging him out of the apartment.

by then, you were crying hard, you couldn’t feel your leg anymore, there was blood on the floor, when did this happen? you felt the panick attack creeping up on you “simon?” you said in between breaths, lily was calling 911 near you. “i’m here doll, hey look at me, i’m right here” you tried finding him but you were seeing small spots on your eyes making you dizzy “fucking hell, lily we need to take her to the hospital” simon was panicked, you were about to go unconscious. who the hell was that guy?

“hey, doll, come on, look at me, yes just like that” you tried your hardest looking at him, but your leg hurted too much “my leg hurts! i can’t move it” you said between whimpers. simon tried to stand you up, but you just couldn’t “baby, you’ll be okay, try not to think of your leg okay?” you felt simon arms slowly carry you to the door, you were staining his shirt with your nose bleed, but he didn’t care, he just needed to get you to the hospital.

he managed to get you out of the door, until you started to see black all around you, the last thing you heard was your name from simon’s panicked voice.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

hiiii, so! how was part 1? i just finished writing this, but i’ll start tomorrow writing part 2, there’ll be little to no angst in this story i get way too anxious with that xd im a sucker for fluff so there will be quite a lot of fluff in here hehe

as you can see, i like adding a pic of the outfit jiji, but! feel free to imagine it as your own! :P

i had this story in my mind for like 3 months i kept daydreaming about it and thought huh 🤔 why don’t i make it a story , i finally wrote it down! yay #proud! anyways idk how many parts this will be, i’ll write the plot as it goes, but it will be most likely centered between reader x simon so! hope you liked it!!!

[xmorguekittyx]

Chapter 1 : 𝘽𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠 & 𝘽𝙡𝙪𝙚

master list

Pattering, the sound of the rain pelting the windshield and the whooshing of wind kissing her windows had her heart feeling like it was in her throat. The pulsing of her heartbeat, she could almost taste it. "The National Weather Service has issued a tornado warning in these following counties-", shit. It never sees to fail that while she was the most nervous, things would continue to get worse and worse. Strikes of lightening lit up the soaked pavement, there was at least 30 more miles before she hit Raccoon City outskirts. She should've postponed heading out of town, but Desmond needed some Blood BeGone soap, which she had been sent to go deliver. The storm seemed to put everyone out of commission. It was a crying shame, honestly. "-IMPACTS... Flying debris will be dangerous to those caught without shelter. Mobile homes will be damaged or destroyed. Damage to roofs, windows, and vehicles will occur. Tree damage is likely.  You are in a life-threatening situation. Flying debris may be deadly to those caught without shelter. Mobile homes will be destroyed. Considerable damage to homes...businesses...and vehicles is likely and complete destruction is possible.", Jesus, could things get worse? 

    They could; the storm seemed to be a little bit before schedule, her headlights illuminating branches and twigs laid over the pavement. The rain blurring the image as she leaned forwards, praying that the branches would grant her mercy and not wreak havoc on her tires. Surely, one thing had to go right, right? Maybe the gods could pass on a little favoritism. The road had to be cleared, but she would have to make it across, her eyes squint to try and find some distinguishable marker for her calling the sheriff's office once she gets back to the morgue. They should be able to stop traffic at least for the night, hopefully nobody has had to come through- a small gasp part her lips. Between the trees sat a blue Honda, the car having the trunk popped and, absolutely, nobody around. A sick feeling of unease crept up her throat as she eyed the car, analyzing, again, anything she could remember to tell police. Part of her wanted to jump out and make sure everything was okay, but the lights were shut off, she could only see it as her head lights shinned past it. It was just unfortunate timing; she could feel the gusts of wind trying to sway her car. Hopefully they had been picked up and just forgot the trunk, as much as that would suck; that was the best outcome. Especially with how bodies had been piling up at her job. 

   The anxiety she felt from the storm and car hit an all-time high as she heard the beginning of Nobody by Avenged Sevenfold start to play from her cupholder, jarring her already frazzled mind. The photo of Leon Kennedy flickering in her screen, it was from when her father had still been alive, working at the same police station Leon did. He passed right when Leon joined, but that had been a few years ago. No matter how much it felt like it was yesterday, time was moving fast, but she felt like she was being left behind. Her eyes glanced up at the road before she slammed on the breaks, a doe running across the street as her tires locked up, squealing as her phone fell into the floorboards. Hands fighting the steering wheel as she tried to steady the car and her heart. "I'll have a damn heart attack before I even make it back.", she sighed, her chest expanding to take in all the air she could. Nobody playing once more, had her nearly jumping out of her skin as she scrambled with the phone, scooping it from the floor. "Hello?", she held the phone to her ear, sitting in the car, she couldn't bare driving right now. Afraid was an understatement, it appears the gods found no favor for her, this night. "Where are you?  Harvy has been blowing up my office phone demanding I start up a missing person's report.", his airy and slow voice drawled over the receiver. "Well...", her eyes went back through the droplet covered window. "The roads are getting worse, I've been having some trouble returning to the morgue.", she felt the air build up on her lungs before letting it out in a huff. "Hey- Leon?", she figured now was better than never to tell him all the shit that had gone on tonight. "There's a car up here on mile marker 37, trunk's open and lights are off. It's parked in the woods a little off the shoulder. You think you guys could come check it out and clear the road?", if they would tonight, would be the real question. "I'll head out first thing in the morning, it's unsafe to be out there right now. You said mile marker 37? There's a motel just a few roads south of you. If I were you, I'd stop in for the night, Kitty.", his voice sounded like honey poured on pancakes in the golden hour of sunrise. Hot coffee laying in the windowsill as the day started early on. Saying Katerina Visage had a crush on Leon Kennedy would've resulted in pink cheeks and embarrassed groans. Now, it left her wondering; what if? 

     "Yeah, I'll stop there for the night. I'll have to book it on foot, during this but-", her voice trailed off. "It's better than getting kidnapped or taken in a tornado in your car.", sometimes, he sounded like her dad. "It's... rough out here.", her voice was full of exhaustion. It felt like today had lasted the week, "You mind stopping by in the morning on your way to check things out? It would make me feel a little better just seeing you.", in all honesty, she was spooked. The storm, the car, the deer, the motel she'd never even heard of before. "Yeah, don't worry about that. First thing in the morning I'll be at that motel, waiting to take you back home. I'll get your car towed; Chief Iron's wouldn't want you paying for that.", he sounded like he was stretching, she was sure that it must've been a slow night for the men. The rain probably the only mischief Raccoon City had going on tonight. "Thank you, Leon. I don't know what I'd do without you.", her teeth sunk into the dead skin around her nails. "I guess I'm about to start walking, I'll message you once I get there, okay?", her voice was full of dread. The walk was not super familiar, especially in the dark with a nearly dead road. "Stay safe, Kit. Don't be afraid to call me if anything happens.", he had a soft tone with those words, Kitty remembered Leon being the rookie. She was 17 when she first saw the 21 year old, fresh from the academy walk into RPD. Her dad being one of the first to welcome him.

     "My daughter put up a banner for you, we've all been excited to have you join.", he waved to the circle banner that read. 'Welcome Leon', the 'e' in Leon was twisted but she was so proud of hanging it. Her smile wide as she also introduced herself to the man, starting a friendship that grew over a mutual shared space. 

     Her father's passing brought them closer together, her father was always close with Leon. He had been the one to train him on the job. "Just get there and pray there's a room.", she sighed, before grabbing her charger, her phone, wallet and keys. Her body had to tense as she placed her hand on the handle, taking a deep breath of warm air and dryness. She had to just hurry, it was just a coincidence the car was abandoned, right?

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

spare change for some teacher!jason? spare chaaaaaaaaaange? (i hope you are feeling better this week 🩷)

Jason glanced at his email and frowned. You weren't coming to class and wanted to give him a heads-up per his syllabus.

Fine. Perfectly normal.

Except for the jolt of anxiety that hit his chest. Were you okay? Was Lena sick? Had something happened? You never missed class. Never had late work. Never missed office hours when you said you would be there.

Your education was important to you and it showed. None of your work was "stock" there was time and effort. You'd grown and improved as a writer and he was damn proud of that fact.

He wanted to believe that that was all it was. Concert for a student.

But- he couldn't. He KNEW you. It was impossible to read anything you wrote and NOT know. You were real and raw and unapologetic about your life. The struggles and the pain. Everything you channeled into making a better life for your kid. Because more than anything, you wanted her to be able to look back and say her mother loved her enough to change. To give her a life with dignity and stability. Something you didn't get.

"Fuck," he groaned, pulling out his phone and hitting a number on the speed dial.

"Hey Jaybird what's-"

Second ring. Of course the golden boy would answer on the second ring. "Hey Dickhead, I need a favor."

"Hello to you too."

"Yeah yeah," he said, "Listen. Remember that waitress from a couple weeks ago?"

"Which- oh wait. The cutie that you were staring at all night?"

"I wasn't- you know what never mind. Listen. If I give you her address can you go check it out? Just make sure she and her kid are alright."

"Sure but you gotta do something for me."

"If you tell me to hug Bruce I swear I'll call Tim and have him-"

"Not that you fucking baby. Just come to dinner on Sunday. I pissed Bruce off last night and he's gonna wanna "talk" but he won't if you're there."

"Why would that-"

"Because you never show up and he'll be too thrilled to whine."

"Fine," Jason huffed. "Just-"

"Yeah yeah," Dick snorted. "Don't sweat it. I'll go check on your girl. And the kid."

[arcadian-litterateur]

sick of kissing you in my head (when can it be real instead?) | modern au!gally x fem!reader

𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

summary: your boyfriend, gally, is across the country, and despite the struggles a long distance relationship can bring, your love is strong enough to carry you through the long distance season of your relationship. but spending your birthday without him is different than spending normal days separated, and you know deep down that nothing will make you happy on your birthday when he’s all you need.

word count: 8k holy—i really didn’t even realize how long this was till i checked the wc omg

warnings: emotional meltdown, mention of anxiety and anxiety meds, brief mention of panic attacks

a/n: hey guys! i love love love the song this is based off of: all i need (the distance song) by avery lynch. it's such a good song. this was supposed to just be fluff about visiting your bf gally, and then it turned into a whole thing lol. so yeah, i hope you guys enjoy this long ass one shot. i really really enjoyed writing it.

“𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧 𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦. 𝘪𝘧 𝘪 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪’𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥. 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥.”

𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥 onto my side, legs brushing against my sheets, I smile at the FaceTime call on my phone, but it's bittersweet. On the other end of the video call sits my boyfriend, the soft smile on his face mirroring my own. From where he sits, I can see the San Francisco skyline out his hotel window, highlighted by the rising sun.

“I miss you,” I mumble, studying the lines and contours of his face and wondering if they've changed since the last time I saw him in person. If I've missed any change; any detail while we've been separated. If anything has changed or tipped the balance since we've been apart. 

I'm not insecure in my relationship with Gally, but be long distance for enough time and everyone gets in their head about it. Catches themselves wondering; doubting.

“I miss you more every time we have to part,” I add, watching the bitter take over the sweet in my boyfriend's eyes for a few seconds before he replies.

“I know, baby, I know.” His gaze wanders into the space between the atoms, his mind leaping forward into the future as he assures both me and himself, “Once my contract with WCKD Enterprises is up, I'll be able to move back to Denver. We'll be back in the same city.”

My smile is tired, only half there, and Gally knows it. It's been months since I've held him in my arms. This long distance routine is wearing us both out. We're both running out of steam—not for each other; not for our relationship, but for the complexity that being long distance has brought to our relationship. Conflicting schedules, spotty internet, the deprivation of physical contact with the person we crave it from the most…it's all beginning to pile up, and we both know it.

In an attempt to change the subject, I ask, “When is your flight back to Chicago again?” I already know, but I'm not sure what else to say, and besides, it's always good to check.

“Your birthday,” comes the cheeky reply, my eyes rolling of their own accord as I secretly admire the handsome grin on my boyfriend's face. But all too soon, his grin fades.

“I'm sorry I can't be there for your birthday,” he says gently. I wave him off, assuring him that I'll be just fine.

“Bren, Tes, and Sony are planning something. Won't tell me what, though.” I sigh before admitting, “It won't be the same without you. But your work's important.” Gally smiles gratefully, but there's cracks in the smile, and my stomach sinks. Guilt over my last comment settles in my digestive tract. “Sorry,” I mumble.

“No, no, don't apologize,’’ Gally says quickly. “You're allowed to be sad that I can't be there.” His amiable grin morphs into a scowl, “Tried to get Janson to give me the time off, I really did. But that rat wouldn't do it.” I give Gally what I hope is a reassuring smile.

“It's okay, babe.” We fall into silence, not necessarily comfortable, but not bad either, before Gally interjects,

“It'll be nice to be in my own apartment, though. I'm getting sick of all these Californian hotels. I'll be glad to be home, smog and noisy L-trains galore.” I chuckle, knowing that Gally loves Chicago because of its quirks, not in spite of them.

Still, Denver has always been home to me. But Gally and I've decided to cross that bridge when we get to it. We've got enough to think about as it is.

I'm trying to come up with another conversation topic, since I don't have work until later today, but unfortunately, Gally isn't so lucky. It’s the perks of working from home as a crisis hotline counselor, I guess. The hours aren’t as demanding, since the work itself is.

“Shoot, I have to go,” he hisses. “I'm sorry, princess. I'll call you tonight?” I nod, forcing myself to look forward to tonight's call, rather than be sad that this one is ending. “Alright, good that,” Gally grins. “I love you, babe!”

“I love you, Gal,” I smile and wave goodbye. The half-baked grin melts right off my face once he's hung up. Gosh, I miss him so much. 

There's only so much comfort a video call can give.

Teresa calls me soon after Gally hangs up, blabbering on and on about a date she'd had with some guy named Ben, but I can't focus on her stories like I normally would. Usually, I'm all in to hear my friend's tales, but my mind is still fixated on the miles separating Gally and I. Something in me wonders how much longer we'll be able to go without holding each other. How much longer we can stand to be separated.

When we first started dating, I could have gone months, as long as we were still interacting. But as my love for Gally increased, the length of time I could stand to be without him decreased. 

I'm fully, unashamedly in love with Gally now, and part of me wonders what I would do to be living in the same place as him. To be in his arms for good. The easy answer—the most raw answer—is anything. I'd do anything for him.

“(Y/N)?” Teresa's voice brings me out of my thoughts, her suspicious tone confirming that she's noticed my lack of focus today. “You weren't listening, were you?” To an outsider, her tone might sound harsh; reproachful, even, but I know her too well. She's not mad. Just annoyed she'll have to repeat her story if she wants me to hear it.

“I'm sorry,” I mumble, and it's sincere. I am sorry that I lost focus. But I don't apologize for pining after my faraway boyfriend. There's no reason to, for one, and two, I won't ever apologize for thinking of him. For missing him. 

Teresa is grinning at my distracted tone, I can tell. Even through the phone, I can tell. “You're good. Dreaming about your bae, aren't you?” 

I don't hesitate to admit, “Yes. I miss him more than I thought was even possible.” I hear Teresa's hum from the other end of the phone.

“You need to see him,” she declares. I scoff.

“Believe me, I know, and we're trying to figure out when he can next visit, but we're both just so busy.” Teresa clucks her tongue, the sound distorting oddly through the phone speaker. I imagine it running across the telephone poles, through the wires, twisting and bending and knotting out of shape as it flies all the way to me.

“I didn't mean like that, (Y/N). You need to go see him.” I chuckle, I wish I could.

“He's busy, Tes. Besides, he isn't even in Chicago right now,” I reason. This doesn't deter her.

“Well, when will he next be in Chicago?”

“His flight's on my birthday.” 

“That's perfect!” Teresa squeals. 

“How is that perfect?” I huff.

“You can fly out and spend your birthday with him! Surprise him!” 

I actually laugh at this. “Um, no, I can't. I don't have the kind of money to just throw down for plane tickets. Besides, weren't you, Brenda, and Sonya planning something?” 

“Well, yeah, but we could always change plans if we needed to,” Teresa says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. On any other day, I would entertain this kind of silly daydreaming, but today, I already felt lonely enough.

“Sorry, Tes. Those spontaneous decisions are not my cup of tea,” I sigh, and I think she can tell I'm shutting the conversation down. She lets it go, and I thank her silently, forcing the ache in my heart left by Gally's absence to venture to the back of my mind. If I waste the day away, it'll be evening again, and then he'll call, just like he said. 

And so despite the fact that I know wasting the days away is bad for me, I do it anyway. Just today, I tell myself. Just today.

Of course, I know I'll do it again tomorrow, and the next day, and all the hours in between my calls with Gally. It's ridiculous, how they all say having space helps one think clearer, when having space just distracts me by making me miss him that much more.

When he's gone, I'm reminded that much more that he's all I need.

_______________________________

𝗜𝗧’𝗦 𝗦𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡 p.m. by the time Gally calls, his eyes lighting up when he sees me despite the exhausted, burnt out look on his face. I'm equally as ecstatic as he is to revel in the gaze of my lover, both of us simply brushing every inch of each other's faces with our eyes, memorizing each other for the millionth time. It won't be the last time, either. I could never get tired of scanning my gaze across his skin, memorizing every inch of his beautiful face. 

In our current situation, it's the closest I can get to kissing every inch of his beautiful face.

Gally is the first to break the silence, and I'm okay with it. He's the one who's had a long day. He knows what he needs to talk or not talk about. I just love hearing his voice. 

“How was your day, baby?” he asks, a tired sort of happiness seeping into his voice. Like I'm giving him some kind of rest just by smiling at him.

“It was good. Uneventful.” I shrug, knowing that I'd barely moved from the chair I occupied now. “The real question is, how was your day, my love?” 

Gally grins at the pet name. He always does. It's the same reaction that I have whenever he uses terms of endearment on me. It's our own personal love language of sorts. How many different ways can I call you mine?

“My day was okay,” Gally says quietly, sighing when he sees the look on my face. The one that tells him to lay it on me; rant if it'll make him sleep better tonight. “Well, it was…mediocre,” he amends, running a hand through his short hair. “Tim was being an ass. As always.” I nod sympathetically, understanding the deep hatred he harbors for his coworker.

Why Gally doesn't like Tim, I'm not exactly sure, but I know it has something to do with taking credit for a project that Gally did all the work on. It resulted in a harsh lecture from their boss for Gally, who was presumed to have slacked off, and a promotion for Tim. 

Anyone who knows Gally knows that he would never slack off. He takes duty and work seriously; more seriously than anyone else I've met, in fact. I know my boy. He wouldn't hurt his company's productivity, even if his boss is an asshole like Janson.

“I'm sorry Tim was giving you trouble, baby,” I croon, watching the aches and tension of the day seeping out of his stiff shoulders at the sound of my voice. His smile weaves its way back onto his face. It's a soft, vulnerable smile, the one that makes me want to take him in my arms and just hold him like the precious treasure he is.

“I wish I could hug you,” Gally groans, rubbing his chin with his fingers before trying to regain his composure. “Sorry…I don't mean to bring everything up again. I just…I just miss you.” My comforting smile wobbles, knowing that those same thoughts are eating away at me inside, but I bring the happy thoughts back to the surface and my grin rights itself.

“Soon, love, soon,” I murmur, knowing I can't truly promise anything with how busy our lives have become. But soon doesn't have a time slot or expiration date. I can promise soon and define it later. All I know is that it brings a smile to my boy's face, and that's what I need right now. 

We spend the rest of the night talking, lifted by the promise of Soon, love, soon, knowing that it could very well mean a long, long time. 

_______________________________

𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗟𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗠𝗦 in my bedroom window, blinding me when my eyes flicker open. But once I blink away the black spots in my vision, I see that the sunlight isn't the only reason I was pulled from the comforting arms of sleep. 

Brenda, Teresa, and Sonya are standing at my bedside, my sheets in a bunched up ball in Sonya's hands. I groan, trying to roll away, but Bren, ever the fearless one, grabs my shoulder and pulls me back to face them.

“Get up, (Y/N). No spending the day moping,” she orders. I heave out an exaggerated sigh, making my body intentionally limp as Brenda and Teresa each grab one of my arms, pulling me upright until I have to support my own weight. 

“Sometimes I really regret giving you guys my apartment passcode,” I comment, leading Sonya to pinch my arm. I yelp, rubbing the red mark as I get manhandled out of my pajamas and into a new outfit by my best friends. “What—what are you crazies doing?” I splutter, quickly taking the pair of jeans from Teresa's hands before she can try to shove them on my legs, opting to put them on myself. 

“We aren't letting you mope around until Gally visits. Who knows how long that would be? It's not healthy,” Sonya explains, linking an arm through mine as the three girls drag me to the bathroom. Brenda shoves my toothpaste-loaded toothbrush into my hand as Tes starts pulling my hair brush through my hair.

“Ow,” I complain around a mouthful of toothpaste suds, pulling away from Teresa's assault on my tender scalp momentarily to spit. She and Sonya make quick work of my slightly frizzy hair, tag teaming it to create a fun yet elegant braid. 

“Beautiful,” Sonya sighs, leaning back to admire her handiwork. Brenda, on the other hand, seems to have some kind of mental checklist, full of all the tasks she must see me complete.

“Breakfast is next,” she commands, and I find myself being pulled into my kitchen, watching helplessly as my friends dive into making us a scrumptious, sugary feast.

I have to admit, the fluffy blueberry pancakes filling my stomach certainly make venturing out into the world much easier than I expected. I only feel the need to text Gally three times before leaving my apartment with my friends, rather than the usual five to ten. Whether these texts are to let him know I'm fine or to make sure he's fine, I've never been able to figure out. Maybe they're both. Either way, it's a good thing Brenda shoved my meds into my hand before breakfast. 

When I'm here alone, I don't take them. Sometimes I skip them on purpose, sometimes I just forget. But either way, I don't take my anxiety meds unless Brenda is there to shove them down my throat. Thinking about it, I'm grateful she's here to force me to take them today. With all of these mixed up feelings about being separated from Gally for so long, having more control over my anxiety will be good.

A day shopping with my best friends is a good distraction from the painful loneliness I've been feeling without Gally. It's not exactly a cure, but it's close. My friends know this; know their own limitations, and so they do the best they can.

And I'm so grateful that they've put in the time. Put in the effort. All for me.

“Thank you,” I whisper to them as we sit in our favorite coffee shop, sipping oat milk lattes. 

“Of course,” Brenda immediately responds.

“We love you,” Sonya adds.

“We know we aren't your boy,” Teresa chimes in, “but we're your best friends, and that means we stick by you. No matter what.” She leans over to rub my arm. “When you're down, I'm down. We wanted to help pick you back up.”

The smile on my face is genuine for the first time in a long time, knowing that my friends love me enough to support me despite having the knowledge that they can't give me everything I need. They give what they can, and accept me when it doesn't fix everything.

I haven't always had friends this good, and I look up at the sky, thanking the heavens that I've been blessed with such good friends now.

_______________________________

𝗧𝗪𝗢 𝗗𝗔𝗬𝗦 before my birthday, I can’t get Teresa’s half-joking, hare-brained idea out of my head. Realistically, I know that the likelihood that I could find a flight on my birthday to Chicago that isn’t full (or way too expensive) is slim. Realistically, I know that I don’t have the money for plane tickets right now. Realistically, I know that flying halfway across the country on a whim to see my boyfriend is ridiculous. 

But when Gally sends me his flight information, knowing I like to watch his progress and get confirmation when he lands safely, I find myself checking flights from Denver to Chicago, telling myself it’s just out of curiosity. Because what if there is a flight to Denver from Chicago on my birthday? What if there is a possibility that I could see Gally on my birthday? What if there is a chance that I could have this gift; the only one I truly want?

If there’s even a chance to see Gally on my birthday, I want to know. 

Gally’s flight information is pulled up on my phone, which is next to me on my desk as I scroll through flights on my laptop. My right thumbnail is between my teeth, bitten down to the quick and then some. It seems that flying is a popular travel option right now, as flights are filled even into places like Dawson County, Montana. Every flight I find from Denver to Chicago is either full or too expensive for someone just out of college, like me. The cheapest is $374, and I know rationally that blowing through that much money would be devastating for my finances. 

I swear under my breath, angry at myself for even getting my hopes up. It was a stupid idea to check the flights, and I find myself wishing I could go back in time to stop myself from looking. The disappointment grows even larger knowing that there would be a way to get to him if I wasn’t a broke post-college student making minimum wage in the Mile-High City. Then the disappointment and anger melt away, leaving me with a heart wrenching sadness that feels so empty and yet so all-consuming that I can’t help but break down into tears.

I don’t want to let myself cry about a silly daydream that was unlikely to happen anyway, but I’d let myself entertain the thought of seeing Gally soon; of holding him close and kissing him until we couldn’t breathe, and now everything else seemed pale in comparison. It wasn’t that my life had no purpose outside of him—I’d made it very clear when we started dating that the two of us needed to make sure we had lives outside of our relationship, too. But Gally had become a part of me; my favorite part of me, in fact. I was perfectly happy with the life I had, but Gally made it even sweeter. And knowing that sweetness was mine but was inaccessible made the absence of it even more palpable. Even more unbearable.

Crumpled into a heap on my floor with tears slowly leaking from my eyes is how Teresa finds me when she opens my door fifteen minutes later. “Hey, girl—” she calls before seeing me, rushing to my side with a worried, “Oh, my gosh, what’s wrong, (Y/N)?” I just shake my head, the waterworks turning back up to full blast.

“I miss him so much,” I sob as she gathers me in her arms, unable to care that I sound pathetic. 

“Oh, I know, darling, I know,” Teresa coos, rocking back and forth with my shaking body, whispering comforting words into my ears just like she always does when I get so worked up. My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath, hand flying up to wipe the snot from my nose, but of course, the minute it’s gone, more replaces it. I’m past the point of an easy calm-down, instead finding myself close to the edge of hyperventilating. Thankfully, Teresa isn’t a stranger to my emotional meltdowns, and she isn’t afraid of them, either. Instead, she’s the kind of friend who will take my hand and guide me through it.

“Did you take your meds this morning?” she asks cautiously, to which I shake my head in embarrassment. Tears are still pooling in the corners of my eyes as I manage to get out,

“I’m sorry.” 

Teresa just shushes me calmly. “Don’t apologize. It’s in the past now. I just wanted to know.” I nod shakily, the soothing pressure of her hand rubbing my arm helping me steady my breaths slightly. “What set you off?” she queries, squeezing me a bit tighter when the tears speed up again.

“I—I decided to check the flights for my birthday,” I answer, sniffling as my best friend strokes my hair lovingly. “It was stupid, because it just made me upset. They’re all too expensive, and I knew they would be, and it just made me miss him so much more.” Admitting it out loud makes me feel even dumber, the guilt creeping into my stomach. “I did this to myself,” I mumble. Subconsciously, my nails find their way to my arms, digging into the delicate skin and leaving pink crescents behind. Teresa pulls my hands away from my arms quickly.

“Stop blaming yourself. You did nothing wrong. I would’ve done the same, (Y/N).” I know she’s trying to comfort me, but I just squeeze my eyes shut.

“Yeah, and it wouldn’t have caused you to end up on the floor like a pathetic child.”

“(Y/N)! Stop!” Teresa scolds me. “Stop with the negative self-talk.” I try to protest, but she fixes me with that no-nonsense look that can get anyone to agree to anything, and I find myself nodding meekly. “None of this is your fault. You’re in a difficult situation, being separated from your boyfriend, and your heart isn’t sure how to handle it. That’s okay. You don’t have to know how to handle it perfectly yet.” I sigh, leaning into my best friend’s shoulder, feeling slightly calmer now. She always knows the right words to say when I’m in too deep to think straight. 

Teresa coaxes me into the kitchen to drink hot chocolate once my breathing has steadied somewhat. She’s looking at me with an odd look that I can’t quite place, as if she’s…proud of me?

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask warily over the top of my steaming mug. My best friend grins, staring at me for a couple more seconds before replying,

“You’re just, like, the strongest person I know.” My face turns what I assume is beet red at the compliment, not expecting such high praise from the woman who just held me in her arms as I sobbed like a baby. But then again, Teresa is special. She doesn’t judge based on outward appearances or impressions. She can see right into the heart of people, as if she can sense their goodness; their potential, and then she nudges them down that path. Helping them choose the sunshine. The good side. The light.

Knowing her compliment is slightly overwhelming, Teresa shrugs and changes the subject so fast I think I get whiplash. “You should call Gally,” she suggests. “Tell him that you were missing him and ask him for some love.” I cringe, turning away from her.

“I don’t want to make him feel bad that he isn’t here. I think I’ve already done that too much this week.” 

Teresa scoffs, “That’s nonsense. He’ll be happy that you reached out to him after your meltdown. He’ll be touched that you wanted to let him know how you’re doing. He’ll feel honored that you’re willing to be vulnerable with him.” I know deep down that she’s right; that the only thing he’d do is make me feel better. Never after calling Gally do I feel worse. I know I’m just scared to hurt him, but he always assures me that I don’t need to harbor that fear. I don’t need to hold onto that anxious voice in my head that whispers, You don’t deserve him.

I can even imagine him next to me if I try hard enough, murmuring, “You’re perfect, baby,” when I grow insecure. Whispering, “I’m so lucky to have you” in my ear when I doubt myself.

“Okay,” I agree, letting Teresa take my phone and FaceTime him. Despite the fact that it’s the middle of the work day, Gally picks up on the first ring, a concerned look decorating his handsome face.

“Teresa? Wha—” 

“She’s fine!” Teresa rushes to assure him, motioning for me to join her on the couch. I pop my head into the frame, wincing as I see how swollen and puffy my face is. Gally’s forehead immediately creases upon seeing me, obviously still worried when he sees the tear stains on my cheeks.

“Babe, are you okay?” he asks. Teresa silently asks if I want to take the phone, but I shake my head. My hands are still slightly shaky, and holding the phone is an added stressor. Teresa understands and angles the phone towards me.

“Yeah, I’m okay, don’t worry,” I whisper, my boyfriend’s shoulders relaxing only slightly. “I just had a bit of a meltdown. Teresa found me and helped me calm down.” Gally’s eyebrows soften, his mouth tilting down in a sympathetic frown.

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “What happened?”

“I just miss you,” I mumble sheepishly after a second’s pause. It seems kind of silly once I admit it out loud, and I start to duck my face away when Gally gets my attention.

“Hey, (Y/N), (Y/N),” he says, waiting until I’ve turned back to him before continuing, “You don’t need to feel embarrassed. I miss you, too, okay? I miss you so much. You don’t need to feel ashamed for struggling.” He waits for me to respond, and I nod slightly. Truth be told, just hearing his voice has made me feel better; stronger. There’s something about his comforting, strong tone that soothes me. Just his voice can make me truly believe in myself. I swear, this man could make me believe anything as long as he says it aloud. 

“Thank you for picking up,” I smile, finding my mood lightening as a grin finds its way back onto his face. “Seeing you helped.” Gally blushes slightly, rubbing a hand along his chin.

“I’m glad I could help, baby.” Offscreen, someone gruffly commands him to get back to work, and he mutters an apology before turning back to the screen. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. But call me if you need anything, okay?” I nod, trailing my eyes over his freckles one more time as he thanks Teresa for taking care of me and then hangs up.

“It helped?” she asks, as if double-checking to make sure I truly am feeling better.

“Yeah,” I grin sheepishly. “You know what you’re talking about.” With a roll of my eyes, I joke, “You should be a counselor for a living. At this rate, you’re better than me at my own job!” Teresa just laughs.

“Well, now that you’ve cracked a joke, I know you’re feeling better.” She pulls me into a hug, and I gladly return it, silently wondering how I got blessed with such an amazing best friend.

“Hey, I’m here for you,” she reminds me one more time as she leaves, her meticulous check-ins a promise for the next few days.

“I know,” I assure her. “I promise I’ll call if I need to.”

“Good,” she says, smiling as she waves. “I love you, babes!” 

“I love you, too, Tes!” Feeling a bit lighter, I wave back as I close my front door.

_______________________________

“𝗜 𝗖𝗔𝗡’𝗧—I can’t take this,” I stutter the next day, wide-eyed at the wad of cash Teresa is currently shoving into my hands. Brenda and Sonya are flanking her on either side with looks that imply they’re attempting to telepathically convince me to take the money. 

“Don’t be sorry!” Brenda sighs. “Just take the money! It’s our birthday present for you!” I look back and forth between my three best friends, realizing that there is no way they’re letting me reject the money. But it feels so weird having this many fifties weighing heavily in my grasp. 

“Yes, you can,” Teresa sighs exasperatedly. “Like I already told you, it’s the money we were going to spend on your celebration pooled together. But we all know you’d rather spend your birthday with Gally, and we want you to be able to, so we’re giving you the money for that plane ticket you couldn’t afford. It would be a waste to throw you a party you don’t want to be at. Helping you see your boyfriend is a much better use of that money. We all agreed.” Brenda and Sonya both nod, Teresa shoving the cash even further into my palms. I take it shakily, counting silently as I gape at them.

“But—but this is nine hundred bucks! I can’t—I can’t take this, I’m sorry!” 

“Please take it,” Sonya says softly, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “We want you to be able to go see Gally. We want you to enjoy this birthday. You’ll be giving a gift to us by making this impulsive choice to do what makes you happy.” My resistance gets melted away by her words, knowing that this was their tactic all along. Get (Y/N) all toughened up to the ‘just take it’ ruse and then let Sonya slip under her defenses when she least expects it. But I’m not annoyed by it. Instead, I let Teresa close my fist over the cash.

Immediately, the three start cheering, but before I can even blink, they’ve moved on from celebrating and are pushing me towards my laptop where, just as I’m sure Teresa suspected, the flights from Denver to Chicago are still pulled up. Teresa obviously asked Gally to share his flight information with her, because she seems to have it memorized as she scans the flights. 

“Alright, here’s the best one,” she announces after a few minutes of looking. “United, nonstop, leaving at 9:30 a.m. MT and arriving at 12:56 p.m. CT. It’s in the same terminal as Gally’s flight, and he lands at 2:23 p.m. CT, so that gives you a little over an hour to get to his gate and wait for him. Sounds good?” I nod wordlessly, still slightly in shock over the way my best friends have handled this so nonchalantly, as if their friend flying across the country on a day’s notice is just a normal part of their lives. 

Sonya pulls me towards my room as Brenda takes the stack of cash back from me, mumbling that Teresa insisted they have it for show but was just planning on Venmoing the cash to me. I laugh at our friend’s antics before following an impatient Sonya, who grabs my suitcase from my closet and starts making a list of what I should pack.

“We’re not buying you a return flight,” she explains, “because we didn’t know how long you’d want to stay, and we figured you didn’t know either. Just bring your work stuff and you can work from Gally’s apartment, and use the rest of the money to buy a return ticket when you decide to come back.” I shake my head in awe at the schemes of my friends, who have obviously thought of every single anxiety I could have because of this plan and have set out to refute them. 

With Sonya helping me pack, a task that would usually take me at least three hours, two cups of coffee, and a panic attack is done in under one hour, no coffee or panic attacks in sight. While I wouldn’t have minded the coffee, the no panic attack part is nice, and I decide I can live without those two cups of coffee if it means my peace of mind is intact. 

And the next morning when Teresa drops me off at the airport, my medicine taken and an ample breakfast eaten, the nervous butterflies in my stomach don’t feel scary. In fact, they feel almost…exciting. And I feel crazy for doing this; for flying halfway across the country to surprise my boyfriend so I can kiss him on my birthday, but I also feel so alive.

And today, the idea of living doesn’t seem as scary anymore.

_______________________________

𝗔𝗦 𝗜 wait at my gate and sip my Starbucks latte, I answer the countless birthday texts I have already received, smiling at the overflow of love from people I talk to everyday and people I barely even know. It’s funny, knowing that there are people out there who remember my birthday but don’t talk to me otherwise. Some might feel disheartened at the idea, but I just giggle quietly to myself, wondering if I’m going crazy for feeling so lighthearted. 

Maybe it’s the adrenaline, I think to myself. The adrenaline from doing something so stupid and yet so exciting. Shrugging to myself, I take another large gulp of coffee, finally getting to the text from Gally. I saved it for last, knowing it would be the best one. And sure enough, as I read the message, I feel happy tears pricking my eyes. As always, he’s sweet; sappy, even, but his message also holds the serious intensity that he always has around him. It’s like an aura, telling those around him that he does everything fully and completely, never giving only half of his effort. That intensity is probably why I love reading texts from him over and over. Even if it’s a simple good morning, his texts always seem to scream I love you from between the lines.

I text Gally back, thanking him for the love he’s sent zipping along telephone lines, across the country and all the way to me. I suck the last dregs of liquid from my Starbucks cup, finally accepting that the beverage is gone as the gate attendant calls for Boarding Group 1. I find myself bouncing from foot to foot, realizing once again that I’m really doing this. I can’t bring myself to sit down as I wait for my group to be called, instead standing by the gate’s charging station, fidgeting like I’m about to run the 100 meter dash. By the time I’m boarding, I’m breathing heavily like I just sprinted up Pikes Peak. Whether from nerves or excitement, I can’t really tell, but it’s enough that the flight attendant touches my arm as she checks the cabin. 

“Ma’am, are you okay?” I look up in surprise before giving her a quick grin. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just nervous.” 

She smiles empathetically. “Is it your first time flying?”

“No. I’m flying out to surprise my boyfriend, and I guess I’m just hoping it all works out like I planned,” I explain. 

At this, I receive an even bigger grin from the flight attendant, who thinks that is just—“the most adorable thing ever!” I nod along, unsure whether I’m actually smiling or just masking my anxiety. Either one is a plausible explanation, and I’m pumped so full of adrenaline that all of my emotions currently feel interchangeable. 

I spend the entirety of take-off nervously fiddling with the little screen in front of me, trying to distract myself. Once we’re at a constant altitude, the flight attendants offer drinks, and I ask for a ginger ale, my go-to drink on airplanes. It calms me down, the comforting security of it helping me stay rational. Unfortunately, the ginger ale combined with my anxious thoughts cause my bladder to reach its limit quite quickly. 

I hate the little bathrooms on airplanes. So loud, so claustrophobic, so turbulent. It’s like trying to pee while in the middle of an earthquake. But my bladder isn’t playing games today, and the last thing I want to do is ignore it and then pee myself. The intrusive thoughts fight to take over as I rush through the motions, washing my hands as quickly as possible, but I stave them off and make it back to my seat in one piece.

The remaining hour until landing is the longest hour of my life.

When we finally touch down and taxi to our gate, all of the tension that has built up inside me feels ready to explode, but I hold it in, knowing that I can let it all out once I see Gally. It’s barely even occurred to me that I’m a year older now—that it’s my birthday—because all I can think about is getting to hold my boy. 

I almost trip getting off the plane, too busy checking his flight’s progress and landing gate. His flight is still an hour and thirty minutes out, giving me more than enough time to go to the bathroom, get some food, and wait for him. I pull my suitcase behind me, so glad I decided to take everything in my carry-on, as I’m now realizing that baggage claim is outside the secure area of the airport. I break free from the flow of traffic heading in that direction, redirecting towards the bathroom.

One bathroom trip, makeup refresher, and food court scavenger hunt later, I’m standing against a column at Gally’s gate, drinking my second Starbucks latte of the day. Normally, I wouldn’t let myself indulge like this, but it’s my birthday, so I feel justified. I even treat myself to a slice of sweet bread, too. I’m too anxious to eat a full lunch. Besides, I’m sure Gally will be happy to get lunch on our way back to his apartment. He’s always willing to eat, no matter the time of day.

I’m trying my best not to look suspicious. There’s a flight leaving from this gate after Gally’s flight arrives, so I blend in, but my leg is bouncing nervously and my hands are shaking slightly. I’m a naturally energetic person, but the fidgeting increases exponentially when I’m either excited or nervous. Right now, I’m both.

Thankfully, no one seems to notice me or think I’m behaving weirdly. I’m simply overthinking, like I often do. At least it passes the time. I only have thirty minutes left to wait.

I run back to Starbucks and buy another latte. It’s gone within ten minutes, my anxious energy prompting me to gulp it down like I’m dying of thirst. Then I’m running to the bathroom again, bladder shouting angrily at me for the caffeine abuse I’ve been subjecting it to. It’s unpleasant, but it kills more time. 

Ten minutes to go. I’m staring at my phone, Gally’s flight details pulled up, reloading the page over and over in hopes that magically, they’ll teleport and be here instantly. With anyone else, I wouldn’t be this obsessive; impatient, but it’s Gally. I could obsess over Gally for days on end with all the love overflowing from my heart. So I pass three minutes refreshing the page persistently, watching the minutes countdown.

I let out a quiet, barely there gasp when my phone screen tells me he’s landed. I can barely contain my excitement, nervous energy causing me to wiggle my hips like a rhythmically challenged dancer. His plane is on the ground, taxiing over, right to where I’m waiting. He’s going to walk through that gate, and I’m going to see his beautiful face, and I’m going to run and jump into my boyfriend’s arms.

All of a sudden, doubt crashes into me like a fucking tidal wave. What if he doesn’t want to see me? What if this is weird, and he’s going to be all awkward about it? What if this was one huge fuck-up? I can feel myself starting to spiral, starting to lose touch with the confidence I’ve been channeling all day. The panic has started to grow, and it surges through my veins, reaching to the tip-top of the cliff that is followed by a plunge off the deep end. Thankfully, though, with only a few minutes to spare before my boyfriend gets off his plane, a little girl in a princess dress bumps into me, hard, causing my knees to buckle and my head to snap out of the spiral it’s in. 

I catch myself against the trusty column I’m leaning against, looking down to find a young girl, maybe six, wearing an Elena of Avalor dress-up costume with a stuffed animal that looks like some kind of leopard with bird wings. 

“Amity!” her mother scolds her, ordering her to apologize for bumping into me. Amity looks up at me with big, brown doe eyes and a huge, genuine grin.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am,” she chirps. I smile back, making eye contact with her mom, before crouching down to her level and holding out a hand to shake.

“I forgive you. I’m (Y/N). Want to know something?” Amity shakes my hand, grinning widely, before looking at her mom as if to make sure it’s okay to talk to me. Her mom gives a gentle nod, a kindness in her eyes as they meet mine. “Well, Amity, you actually helped me just now. I was feeling super duper nervous and it was making me get shaky and worried. But then you bumped into me, and I saw your smile, and it made me feel a lot better!” 

I can tell Amity’s mother is touched, and I make sure to assure her that I’m doing better. That Amity’s little scuffle with my legs was truly helpful. And then Amity and her mom are on their way, Amity’s tight hug and whisper of “You look like a princess” giving me the last boost of confidence I need.

Right as I finish waving goodbye to the adorable little girl, I hear the sounds of passengers starting to come down the jetway. I suck in a sharp breath, making sure my small suitcase and jacket are safe by the column before stepping closer to the junction between gate and jetway, watching passengers closely as they start to trickle into the airport. 

It’s no surprise that I can pick Gally out of the crowd immediately after he walks out of the jetway, his head easily peeking over every other passenger. He doesn’t see me at first, focused on trying not to trample the small toddler whose family is trying desperately to get him to behave as they walk in front of my boyfriend.

I wait until he’s right there, just the toddler’s family in front of him, to call his name. “Gally!” His head snaps up, eyes scanning the surrounding area before settling on me, his jaw going slack, falling open in surprise as the toddler’s family quickly moves out of the way. 

It’s like we’re living in slow motion, the way I watch Gally’s backpack slide out of his hand and hit the floor with a thump, his look of shock morphing into a state of joyous disbelief, as if he’s not sure he’s truly seeing me. He looks frozen in this state, unable to move towards me, but I don’t care. I’m already running up to him, happy tears gathering in my eyes as I jump into Gally’s arms, my head burying itself in his neck before I lean up to kiss him with all the pent-up love, tension, and nerves that have been coursing through my body all day.

His lips are warm just like they always are, soft and full and inviting as we kiss passionately; shamelessly, right in front of everyone waiting to board their flight. I can’t bring myself to care, anxiety nowhere to be found now that I’m here. In his arms. Held tightly, kept safe, flooded with warmth, just like I’m supposed to be. 

He pulls away first, still in shock as he scans my face, as if expecting to find some imperfection that reveals me as a doppelganger. “Baby—” he chokes out, tears brimming at the corners of his eyes, my own tears rolling down my cheeks. “Baby, you’re here.” He lets out a giddy, confused laugh, cupping my cheek with his hand as he wipes the remnant saltwater away with his thumb. 

“You’re—you’re here. In Chicago,” he repeats, putting my feet back on the floor so I can stand there with my arms around his neck, his other hand coming up to cup my other cheek. “You’re—it’s your birthday!” he says, and I can’t tell if it’s another reason he’s confused I’m here, or if it’s just an observation. Well, probably both, so I just giggle.

“Yes, Gally, it’s my birthday.” 

“But—did you—when did you get here?” he asked, bewildered, a lovestruck, excited smile lighting up his whole face. I run my hands through his hair, admiring his gentleness as he cradles my face in his palms.

“An hour and a half ago, I think. I’m not sure the exact timing,” I shrug. He gasps.

“You flew on your birthday?” I give him an odd look. 

“Yes…why? Is that illegal or something?” Gally chuckles through the joy-filled tears still drifting down his face every once in a while.

“No, baby. I just thought—most people wouldn’t be willing to fly or even be at an airport on their birthdays. Don’t you have cool stuff to do? Fun people to see?” I shake my head, pulling him as close as I can, our lips hovering inches apart. 

“You’re the only person I wanted to see. This is my birthday present.”

Gally’s eyes water even more as he presses his forehead to mine, running his hands through my hair. “Baby, I—” He pulls away to wipe a tear from his eye and then leans back down, pressing a gentle peck to my forehead, “I love you so much.” 

“I love you even more, Gally,” I whisper back, staring into his teary eyes with my watery own. He chuckles, shaking his head.

“Not possible.”

“It is, too,” I giggle, still whispering as I press a kiss to his lips, “and I’m the birthday girl, so you have to let me win the arguments today.” 

“Oh, that’s how that works,” Gally laughed, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Well, I suppose I can let you win this one, since you did fly all the way to Chicago on your birthday.”

“Oh, but that was selfish,” I smiled. “I wanted to see you. I needed to see you. It was purely selfish.” Gally just hugged me tighter, pressing kisses to the top of my hair as he admitted quietly,

“Well, I needed to see you, too. I needed to have you in my arms.” I relax into the warmth of my boyfriend’s chest, the material of his hoodie tickling my nose. I endure it because it smells like him, and that makes it the most calming aroma in the world. 

“Being in your arms is all I need. You are all I need,” I whisper. 

I kiss him again, a loving, sweet kiss, reveling in the presence and taste of my boyfriend, a sense of peace and safety wrapping its warm arms around me. 

Nothing else matters in this moment. Not my job, or my life in Denver, or my birthday. All that matters is that I am here, in my boyfriend’s arms. In Gally’s arms.

Right where I’m supposed to be.

the end

[venture4treasure]

“And if you leave me. Rest assured, it would kill me.”

Words: 1881

Premise: Yandere!Venture kills someone and you catch them. You respond in an atypical way. 

Warnings: Minor character death, Blood, Unhealthy relationship, Irresponsible use of prescription medication, Mental breakdown, Obsession 

“Venture~”, your voice sing-songs from outside your shared home. 

Venture freezes at the sound of your voice, you weren’t supposed to be back home tonight. They glance at the blood drying on the floor, mind racing on how to keep you from seeing it. 

You’re too quick to open the door, ecstatic about getting out of work early despite your scheduled overnight shift. The sight in front of you makes you freeze. Your kitchen floor has splatters of blood and streaks from where you can only assume a corpse was dragged. Your mind immediately jumps to the worst and you tighten your grip around the handle of the door.

“Venture?” You call out hesitantly, “if this is a joke, it’s sick and I mean that in a bad way”, you add when there’s no answer. 

After several beats of silence, you pull out your phone, prepare to leave and call the police. Your attempt is interrupted when the door is forcefully torn from your grip and slammed shut behind you. You feel yourself shoved against the door. You shut your eyes and duck your head from the impact. Your hands are pinned above you and your phone is pulled away. 

You anticipate something, anything to happen to you, but when nothing happens. You hesitantly open your eyes and look up. And you don’t know what feels worse, opening your door to a crime scene or seeing who the perpetrator is. 

“Sloan…” you manage to choke out. 

So many questions race in your mind – why did you, who did you… But the desperation and fright in their eyes sobers you. In your forced rationality, you observe that their hand is warm on your wrists, their grip means no harm. 

“I-”

You cut them off by pushing them away, they stumble a couple of steps back, looking at you with wide eyes. 

“Don’t say anything. We’re cleaning this up. Right now. Go get some hydrogen peroxide and gloves. And change into something you can throw away,” you force the words out, “do not say anything that makes me any more complicit”. 

Venture is stunned at your reaction. They’re slow to follow your instructions, prompting you to ask more, “no bleach, that’ll only make things messier. We’ll refloor all of this tomorrow anyway. Do you have animal blood?”  

They shake their head, and you shoo them off to get what you told them to as you step around the kitchen to assess what needs to be done. You’re careful to avoid making the mess worse by tracking any more blood around. The mess is bad, it is a lot of blood, and it makes you think someone must've bled out. Part of you wonders if any of it is Venture’s, you hope not. You shake yourself, you don’t want to dwell on the thoughts of why it’s so bad. Your only task at hand is to clean it up, you remind yourself. 

After double-checking you won’t trail any mess around the house, you take your own advice and go to get changed into some clothes you won’t miss. You also force yourself to take two extra pills for your anxiety – double your prescription – to keep yourself grounded. 

You meet Venture in the kitchen again and help set up several trash bags. You instruct them to help you soak up the bulk of the blood in towels and throw it away. When it’s done, you show them how to clean up the rest of the blood and explain to them how hydrogen peroxide will destroy the traceable genetic material. You try to explain everything you can if only to fill the silence and to keep your mind busy. When the reality sets in a little more, you feel sick talking – you were quite literally talking about how to get away with murder. You put on a playlist to help with the silence instead.

Venture doesn’t say anything when you talk. And definitely doesn’t say anything when you stop. They’ve never seen you act like this, they never would have thought this would be a possible outcome. They’re scared anything they say will make you react poorly, so they choose to maintain the current equilibrium you’ve set. 

Eventually, when everything looks clean and normal you finally give the okay to take a break. 

“You should shower and sleep,” you say, going through the motions of brewing some instant coffee. You wanted the caffeine and you probably weren’t going to sleep anyway. 

“I promise I’m not planning to do anything while you sleep. But you’re going to help me with moving flooring tomorrow and you’re going to need the rest,” you insist, tapping your hand on their shoulder. 

Your contact makes them startle. They want to hold you and tell you how much they love you. They want to explain how this was for you. They were only doing what was best for you. They wanted to tell you how they knew you’d never see it that way and that’s why you were never meant to see them do this. But instead, they swallow the bitter reality and do as you say. If you were willing to help them this much, then they should keep their complaints to themselves. 

You note that Venture is resting on the couch in the living room, and for a moment it does cross your mind that if you wanted to call for help, now would be the time. Any other time, Venture easily overpowers you. But it’s also the first time calling the authorities has crossed your mind since you came home. The idea makes you nervous and you turn your phone face down on the counter as if to reject the possibility of doing that. You finish your coffee and start another pot of water before heading up to shower and change. 

You spend the rest of the night until morning, re-scrubbing the floor and cleaning anything you can. You know that you don’t have to at this point, you’re fairly confident you got everything done the first time around, but you needed to do something to stave off the looming anxiety. Your body aches from being on the floor and cleaning so much, but you just take an ibuprofen and ignore it. 

Venture, thankfully, wakes by themselves and saves you the mental distress of figuring out how to approach them. They follow you around for a bit like a lost puppy and it makes it really hard for you to not embrace them – but you know if you do, you’ll break and you can’t afford that. 

The drive to and back from the store is relatively uneventful. You explained the plan, and Venture did as told. The whole time you could feel them look at you for some reaction, but you ignored it. 

The two of you spent the rest of the day tearing up the floor and replacing it. It was mostly Venture and you helped where you could, you didn’t have the strength to match theirs on a good day, much less when you’ve pulled an all-nighter and barely eaten anything. 

The project is done by late afternoon. You were hoping to finish by noon, but at least it’s over now – and you probably didn’t contribute too much anyway. 

You take a long shower and pick something comfortable to wear. When you are done, you call out for Venture to do the same. Who, like everything else you’ve said these past two days, follows.

You collapse on the couch, and the give of the cushions is a relief your aching body needs. The thought of taking some more ibuprofen crosses your mind, but the idea that you’d have to get up deters you greatly. 

Venture eventually finishes their shower and slowly creeps into the living room as if to not scare you. They settle on the carpeted floor some distance in front of you. They’re looking at you the whole time, there’s a desperate desire in their eyes. Both of you can feel how fragile the atmosphere is. If you had any energy left to spare, you’d notice how uncomfortable it was that your constantly chattering partner had been silent for almost a whole day, not a single joke shared. Instead, you take note of how their usually fluffy hair is soaking wet, and barely dry. 

To your body’s protest, you force yourself off the couch to close the distance. You pull your towel off your shoulders and drape it over Venture’s head. You use it to dry their hair, gently patting their hair and running your hand through clumps you’re afraid will tangle. Venture lets you do this, all but melting into your touch. Their breaths are slow and relaxed for the first time since you got home. You take more time and care than needed to dry their hair, but the action just felt so domestic and right. And you couldn’t let the feeling go.

When you’re done, you take your time folding the towel neatly, taking care to not maintain eye contact with Venture. They stare at you with a sadness that you know would break your heart if you acknowledged it. 

“Let me explain-”

“Sloan,” they flinch at their real name being used and the sternness of your voice, “I have done so much for you, please do not repay me by saddling me with information that makes me any more guilty than I already am”. 

Your head is still dipped in a way where you won’t meet their eyes, you wring your hands together anxiously, unsure what to say. 

Venture saves you from the silence, “okay,” they pause, “do you want anything? Tea or food… dessert?” And darkly, they consider their options of drugging you and getting you away from here. Maybe to some place where they could do everything best for you. 

You shake your head. 

“Do you hate me?” Venture’s voice cracks at the end, they’re not ready for the possibility of being rejected.

“No- never,” you exclaim in shock, looking up at them for the first time, “I trust your judgment. I trust you. Because I love you”. You confess, stomping down the part of your brain that tries to add ‘a little too much’.

Venture lets out a breath they were holding and almost collapses in relief. Thank god. You still love them. It’s okay, everything is fine as long as you are theirs. 

“Do you need some space,” Venture tentatively offers, they don’t really want to leave, but they want to do something right by you. 

“No,” you choke out, “no, please don’t leave”.

You reach out to wrap your arms around their neck and pull yourself against them, they hesitantly return the embrace, holding you tighter when you don't react negatively to their touch. 

“I think my meds are wearing off,” you’re breathing hard, “it’s all too much to think about. And everything hurts”.

Venture comfortingly traces shapes on your back, letting you cry into their neck as sobs wrack your form and you dig your nails into their back to anchor yourself.

“Don’t go, don’t go, please don’t leave me alone,” you beg.

Venture leans their head against you and pulls you into their lap to hold you closer. 

“I’ll never leave you, mi vida”. 

Author’s Note: I saw some yandere Venture art and fics here. It inspired me to write about Venture killing someone because of their significant other – be it out of jealousy, possessiveness, or defense. 

This probably doesn’t fall under the typical yandere type stories, but I still consider it yandere because I think in the end, Venture doesn’t regret killing for you, they regret getting caught by you. 

For it’s worth, Venture probably orders you your favourite takeout and drink when you start to wake up so you can have something nice to eat since you haven’t eaten in over a day. 

I don’t think I’ll mention this always, but it should be obvious that both the reader and Venture here are not sound of mind. 

Quote is from Oleander by Mother Mother. Oleander is a toxic plant, it is sometimes used to symbolize desire, destiny, everlasting love, and caution.